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daechwitatamicrecs · 23 days ago

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putting this under the correct blog so i can eventually retire mapofthecheol lol

sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb.

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing.

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly.

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted.

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free.

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort, when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find.

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner.

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa?

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.”

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him.

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you.

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.”

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of.

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have.

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to.

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and —

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why.

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question.

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?”

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but —

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say.

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#author: eoieopda #group: svt #member: ksy #type: one shot

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daechwitatamicrecs · 1 month ago

Note

wait the receipts are gonna make this so much funnier lol

it started like this:

(Thanks hali)

Then this less than 12 hours later...

hehehehehehehehehehe

ANYWAY THANK YOU USER SEOKGYUPURIN FOR LOVING ME AND HALI'S PACRIM UNIVERSE! more to come from both of us!!!

re: svt fic recs

there r two pacific rim au fics that are SOOOOo heart-wrenching but so good: cherry bomb by daechwitatamic (cheol x reader) and storm breaker by sailorrhansol (jihoon x reader)… idk if you know anything ab pacific rim (bc i def didn’t before reading) but the concept of drifting and all the emotional vulnerability of it makes for such good tension between the characters

o u already KNOWWW i ate up @daechwitatamic cherry bomb.... i too am unfamiliar w pacific rim but i credit myself for the existence of this fic as it was born out of my request 🥰 i am singlehandedly responsible for that entire fic thanks 🥰 (and i have yet to read @sailorrhansol 's but you know its on my list!!!!)

#sorry to hali for putting our convo on blast #now everyone knows the things you dm me at 1am while i am asleep

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daechwitatamicrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Did I forget to copy and paste my live reaction onto your actual fic from a blank text post........... maybe.

Anyway it was here lmfao

Interlude: Hyung Line

The one where the three oldest members of the group find themselves in deep shit

Summary: Namjoon returns to see everyone in a crisis. Seokjin has a conversation with his girlfriend, while Hoseok wonders if he's going to lose his best friend. Meanwhile, Yoongi ruminates on an impulsive decision.

Pairing: OT3 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.2 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: It's been forever since I posted and I bring you... *an aftermath fic*!! Takes place the morning after A Stormy Night.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @jihopesjoint @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "dope lovers" by dpr ian

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

When Hoseok wakes up the next morning, it’s to slivers of sunlight through a soft mesh sort of thing on his face. He blinks and shifts slightly; it’s Chaeyoung’s hair, where his face was buried, and he squints towards the window where an apologetic looking sun has reared its head in the sky after a night of torrential rain.

He relaxes slightly; next to him, Chaeyoung hasn’t moved, her shoulders rising and falling peacefully with every breath she takes. His phone buzzes and he turns to reach for it.

Taehyung [08:45] Anyone need a ride to HQ? I’m leaving in a bit Although no one apart from Jungkookie seems to be in the dorm right now

Namjoon [08:48] I’ll reach on my own. I just got off a flight so I came to my apartment to take a shower.

Seokjin [09:00] I’ll reach on my own too.

Taehyung [09:01] Okay. Where were you last night?

Seokjin [09:01] Never you mind. I have my car.

Yoongi [09:02] Me too.

Hoseok stares at the screen, slowly licking his lips.

Hoseok [09:03] Me too.

Taehyung [09:04] This is not suspicious at all.

Jimin [09:04] I’m at my place with Sooah :D:D:D I’ll be there soon - but everybody don’t forget to be at the restaurant for her birthday lunch! No latecomers!

Taehyung [09:05] I take it your night turned out well after all?

Jimin [09:05] Yessss it did, god bless. I have the best girlfriend in the world - but I’ll tell you about it later. I mean it though - don’t be late for the lunch. Hobi hyung - you can bring Chaeyoung.

Hoseok stomach jolts.

Hoseok [09:06] That’s super random. She’s totally capable of coming on her own, you know? She’s not a kid anymore and I’m not responsible for her anyway.

Jimin [09:08] Errrr I meant because the roads are still a bit flooded so she may not want to walk to the bus stop. But I guess she can come on her own too.

Jungkook [09:09] I can pick her up on my way to the restaurant if you want, hyung.

Taehyung [09:09] You’re alive??? I knocked on your door at least twice last night but I heard nothing. I thought you died in there or something.

Jungkook [09:10] Oh yeah. I was really tired.

Taehyung [09:10] Lol, I’m sure.

Jungkook [09:10] @Namjoon How was your trip hyung?

Namjoon [09:11] Amazing Didn’t want to come back tbh

Jimin [09:11] That feels great to hear But I have a girlfriend now so I get it

Jungkook [09:12] Gross

Jimin [09:12] Don’t be bitter just because you’re single

Yoongi [09:13] Yeah go get laid instead

Taehyung [09:13] I still don’t know where half of you are though. How was everyone out last night despite that horrendous storm?

Namjoon [09:14] Yoongi hyung corrupting the children since 2013

Yoongi [09:14] Me? I think Hobi is doing enough of that for all of us

Hoseok [19:15] What! Of course not. Why even would you say that? What are you talking about

Yoongi [09:16] Sorry, I meant Seokjin

Seokjin [09:16] Errrrrrrr

Taehyung [09:16] I mean, is it me? Am I the lame one for having stayed home last night?

Yoongi [09:17] You were on your way to HQ last night, weren’t you?

Taehyung [09:17] No?

Yoongi [09:17] Not you

Namjoon [09:18] Did I leave my charger at the dorm?

Taehyung [09:18] No idea Speaking of which, you owe me a lock for my door

Namjoon [09:19] Excuse me?

Jungkook [09:19] Taehyung

Yoongi [09:20] Yeah and you need to return my aux cable. It’s still in your car. I couldn’t charge my phone last night and had to fight Miso to borrow hers

Hoseok [09:20] Wait you were with Miso last night?

Seokjin [09:21] @Namjoon I called you to check about the company HQ sleeping quarters too but you didn’t answer

Jimin [09:21] Oh yeah, Namjoon hyung - you weren’t here to give me a pep talk when my night for Sooah was going up in flames either. I had to call Taehyungie and Jungkook instead and they were no help at all!

Jungkook [09:22] Hey!

Taehyung [09:22] Hey!

Namjoon [09:22] One ridiculous problem at a time, please!

Hoseok frowns, already losing interest. He navigates away from the chat and scrolls through his messages, answering some and ignoring others, his eyes now somewhat getting used to the light of the screen. Just as he’s about to close the app, another message pops up.

Chanyeol [09:15] Up?

Hoseok [09:15] Just about

Chanyeol [09:16] Kk. Listen, are you going home anytime soon?

Hoseok [09:17] To Gwangju? Not part of the plan right now, no. Maybe Christmas? Why?

Chanyeol [09:17] We were planning when to go next. Hayoung’s parents are probably travelling end of the year so we’re trying to plan a trip when everyone we want to meet will be there at the same time.

Hoseok [09:18] And I’m part of that list? Chan, you honour me

Chanyeol [09:18] You’d think you wouldn’t be after 20 years of being friends but hey

Hoseok [09:18] You know Seoul is like a train ride away right? Why do you want to wait to hang out in Gwangju?

Chanyeol [09:19] Home and stuff

Hoseok [09:19] Hella senti, I have to say

Chanyeol [09:19] There’s the added bonus of Hayoung and I having to stay with our respective parents when we go home though

Hoseok [09:20] That’s what I’m saying! Come to Seoul

Chanyeol [09:21] I will… I just have to do a Gwangju trip soon. Hopefully when you’re there too

Hoseok [09:21] Why?

Chanyeol [09:22] Okay don’t say a word to ANYONE But I kinda want to ask Hayoung to move in

Chanyeol [09:23] Hoseok?

Chanyeol [09:24] Dude you’re freaking me out. Is that a terrible idea?

Hoseok [09:25] Nope Just recovering from MY MIND BEING BLOWN My boy’s growing up!!!

Chanyeol [09:25] Jesus You scared the shit out of me for a couple minutes there

Hoseok [09:26] I’m gonna dance my ass off at your wedding

Chanyeol [09:26] Whoaaa. Slow down there pop star

Chanyeol [09:27] Anyway, that’s why I want to go back. I want to do this thing where she’s at her parents’ house and I’m at mine and then I bring up all these rules that we used to have at home when we were kids and then just casually wonder what it would be like if we could make our own rules - in our own home.

Hoseok [09:28] Adorable Just adorable Still waiting for how my Gwangju plans fit into this though

Chanyeol [09:29] Are you kidding? I need you there for moral support!

Hoseok [09:29] So, like… hiding outside in the bushes while you’re talking to Hayoung?

Chanyeol [09:30] No, that would be creepy. But this might be the second most important question I ever ask in my life so I need you there. In town. In the vicinity. So I can plan and maybe make some kind of a grand gesture? Unless it’s stupid

Hoseok [09:30] No! Of course I’ll be there. Just let me know when

Chanyeol [09:31] I will. In any case, it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to go back until at least January so that gives me some time to prep.

Chanyeol [09:32] Thanks though. You’re a good friend. The best actually.

Hoseok stares at the screen, the smile on his face fading. The faint flowery perfume and the scent of skin on skin suddenly seems stronger. Something shifts next to him and he turns on his back with dread, faced with the sleeping form of his best friend’s half-naked younger sister.

—

“Everything okay?”

Seokjin looks up, instinctively locking his phone as Nari walks into the living room, stopping just shy of the edge of the carpet.

“Yeah. Just… the usual.” He shrugs, placing his phone next to him. He bites his lip, suddenly at a loss for words. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mhm.” She nods, running her fingers through the top of her hair and letting it fall down one shoulder. “You? Was the sofa comfortable?”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.” He tries to suppress the urge to stretch his back. “How about you? Oh -“ He clears his throat when she frowns slightly. “Right. We just did you.”

Nari nods again, this time slower. “Listen, Seokjin, about last night -“

“Nari, about what happened -“

They pause at the same time and Seokjin feels his ears turn red, the same time as she chuckles awkwardly and looks away.

“You go,” offers Seokjin, regretting it almost immediately.

“No, no, please, you can go first.”

“No, I insist -“

Nari stares for a few seconds, looking hesitant. “I just wanted to say… don’t worry about it. We can just forget it.”

Seokjin processes this, his pulse slightly uneven. “Okay,” he says lightly. “Thanks for, uh… letting me sleep over.”

“I think I kind of forced you,” she reminds him. “I couldn’t quite have your hypothermia on my hands. They’d take away my medical license if I let you go back out in that rain. Oh, and take your time returning the clothes,” she adds suddenly. “Although I think that sweatshirt is yours, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Um -“ He looks down at the faded blue sweatshirt and grey joggers she’d lent him last night. “Oh, yeah. I stopped looking for this, like, three years ago. I thought I left it in some hotel in America.”

“Well, it would’ve been on eBay selling for a million dollars if that were the case,” she says teasingly.

Seokjin cracks a smile. Unlike last night when, for a glorious portion of an hour, things had felt almost normal, he feels more uncomfortable than ever. Part of him feels like screaming into a pillow, for it’s occurring to him now what a terrible position he’s put himself and Nari in, not to mention Seulgi, stranded in Big Hit.

“Oh.” The word escapes his lips before he realises. He scrambles off the sofa, running a hand through his messy hair. “I have to go… I need to pick up -“ He looks up at Nari.

“Yeah, no. That’s fine.” She nods. “I hope you don’t feel weird about last night, though.”

“I don’t.” He pauses. “I don’t feel weird about it,” he says clearly, but this isn’t the time to have this discussion. Not while his girlfriend is elsewhere, not until he’s done the right thing by her.

Nari looks like she’s about to say something but shakes her head at the last moment. “That’s good. I guess I’ll see you around?”

Seokjin observes her, bare face and slightly puffy eyes. She's biting her lip - he’d kissed those lips last night, he remembers and waits for his face to get hot again.

But it doesn’t. He nods. “Yeah. See you around, Nari.” He trudges out, squinting slightly at the sun and needing a coffee so, so badly.

“Seokjin.” She’s standing at the door when he turns and her eyes twinkle slightly in a way that makes his stomach leap hopefully. “Thanks for coming last night, though.”

It takes him a moment. “Of course. Happy half-birthday, Nari.”

The roads are unforgiving. Despite a lot of the water having been drained, the streets are still flowing with ankle deep water, leaves and debris strewn around everywhere, and entire roads blocked for repairs.

Seokjin reaches Big Hit almost thirty minutes later than he’d intended. Just as he’s about to drive into the basement parking, he spots Seulgi walking out of the front doors, one hand on the strap of her bag and the other holding her phone.

He immediately pulls into the front of the building and skids to a stop, accidentally splashing water from a puddle on her ankles.

“What the -“

“Sorry!” he exclaims apologetically, turning off the car and stepping out.

“Seokjin?” Her shoulders relax when she notices him - but she doesn’t smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, the roads are crap. Figured you might need a ride home?” he ventures.

“Oh.” She seems hesitant. Even after spending a whole night at the company sleeping quarters, she looks like she’s stepped out a shower and spent thirty minutes getting ready; there isn’t a hair out of place or a single crease in her clothing. Dressed in an ancient sweatshirt - and what he suddenly remembers with a shock are Nari’s joggers - he feels like a complete slob.

“Unless… you don’t want one.”

Seulgi stares at him. For a second, he thinks she might throw her phone at his face. But a moment later she shrugs.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

It’s formal and slightly awkward, but Seokjin takes it as a good sign when she opens the passenger door and gets in. He drives mostly in silence; he isn’t sure what to say to her and figures he at least owes her a ride to her doorstep before they have this discussion.

This route is shorter, fortunately, and fifteen minutes later when he pulls up in front of her building, he takes a deep breath. Before he can get a word out, though, she speaks.

“We’re done, Seokjin.”

His heart jolts harder than he expected it would. “What?”

She continues looking out of the windshield, but her voice is calm yet steely. “I spent more time yesterday worrying about our relationship than on my presentation. And that’s not me. Neither is getting in the middle of a situation as messy as yours and Nari’s, but -“ She scoffs without humour.

Seokjin isn’t sure what hurts more: the fact that he wasn’t expecting this right now, or the fact that he can’t help but agree with her.

“Seulgi… I know I haven’t been a good partner lately. I know that and you deserve -“

“Don’t tell me what I deserve. Please,” she says, still calm, but this time he thinks he can hear her voice tremble slightly. “I think you tried. Trying to call me the last few weeks, checking up on me last night, picking me up right now… you’ve been raised to be a decent guy.” She shakes her head and looks out her window. “But it really loses its charm when there’s another woman in the picture.”

Shame trickles down Seokjin’s spine but he forces himself to listen to her and absorb every single word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I felt for Nari - and I still don’t, but I never meant to -“

“Really? Is that why you’re wearing a pair of pants with her name printed on them?”

His heart stops.

“What?”

Seulgi scoffs again, but it’s followed by the smallest of sniffs. “God, I was such an idiot.”

Seokjin looks down at the joggers, frowning deeply and scanning his leg to see what Seulgi might have until he spots it: right by the edge of the pocket, in faded Hangul… Choi Nari.

“No. No, no, this - no. No.” Seokjin shakes his head vigorously, for she's got it all wrong. But for some reason, his mouth seems incapable of saying anything other than no, no, no.

“Spare me. You're literally in her pants,” she says icily. “God - I'm that girl. The one who started dating a guy with a girl best friend that stopped being just a friend somewhere along the way. Talk about a B-grade k-drama.” She begins gathering her bag and unstrapping her seatbelt.

“Seulgi,” he says hurriedly, “I did not - I swear to you, it's nothing like you're imagining.”

She turns to him and tilts her head, but her eyes are shuttered - apart from being wet. “Really? You weren't with her last night?”

“No! I mean, I was at her house but I wasn't with -”

“Goodbye, Seokjin,” she interrupts him, opening the car door and climbing out. “Thanks for the ride,” she mutters, just before slamming the door shut and walking away.

Seokjin watches her leave in shock. His heart is beating uncomfortably and he feels sick in his stomach, for as much of a right Seulgi had to do this and as much as he even expected her to, hurting her this way was not something he had ever intended.

He isn’t sure how long he sits out there; it isn’t until his phone rings that he’s jerked out of his trance.

“Hello?” He clears his throat and presses his fingers into his eyes, feeling them get wet as he lowers them.

“Seokjin hyung?” There’s a minor commotion in the back. “The meeting has been pushed back by half an hour.”

It’s Jungkook. Seokjin nods, the meeting seeming like a distant problem right now. “Okay.”

“Yeah, meaning we can probably grab breakfast before it. Do you want the staff to order something for you?”

As if on cue, his stomach churns at the thought of food. “Uh, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah. I’m not hungry.” Before Jungkook can argue further, Seokjin continues. “I have to go. I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up, he finally pulls out from in front of Seulgi’s building, beginning his drive back home.

—

Sooah’s birthday lunch has been organised in a fancy, chic restaurant in central Seoul, on the top floor with added security and an exclusive invitation list. The sun is mild and there’s a gentle breeze in the air, making the balcony area a popular spot for many of the guests to enjoy the newly improved weather with cocktails and appetizers being served by well-dressed waiters.

Hoseok provides his name at the entrance and enters the party, hoping furtively that the group of girls just outside the building haven't spotted his face. He looks around; evidently, the birthday girl hasn't arrived yet. He declines a passing waiter's offer of a prawn tempura and makes a beeline for the first member he sees.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, slightly breathless as he reaches Yoongi. The older member had ended up bringing Jungkook, Namjoon and Taehyung from the company HQ, especially after the latter two had decided they wanted to drink freely at the party and not drive after that, leaving their cars still parked in the company basement.

Now, Yoongi, who’s been quiet all morning and is holding a glass of what looks like gin, nods in acknowledgement even though his gaze is fixed somewhere on the ground.

However, Hoseok can't begin to wonder what his problem is right now. “Okay, look,” he begins, looking around to make sure there's no one around. “I did something horrible. Well, no, not horrible,” he amends quickly. “It wasn't at all - okay, here's what it is, alright?” He swallows and takes a deep breath. “I hooked up with Chaeyoung,” he confesses in a single breath.

Yoongi, who'd been listening with his gaze still burning into the ground, finally looks at him. “Wow,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Really? Isn't she, like, fifteen or something?”

“What? No!” Hoseok cries. “She's twenty-three! She's an adult - she’s as old as Jungkook! Well, slightly younger,” he admits.

“How much younger?”

“… eighteen months.”

Yoongi nods, then frowns. “Okay, well… it’s not that bad then. She’s old enough.”

“Yeah, but she’s -“ My childhood neighbour, a family friend, and Chanyeol’s baby sister. “… Chaeyoung,” he finishes uneasily. “Her brother is going to kill me,” he groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Really? Why?” Yoongi shrugs. “It’s her life, right?”

“I mean, sure. But Chan is really protective of her, especially after their mother passed.” Hoseok doesn’t know how exactly to word it to someone who hasn't been there through it all, watching Chanyeol constantly keep an eye on the most important person in his life. Until she moved to Seoul and he asked me to take over.

“So?” Yoongi shrugs, then takes a sip of his drink. “It's her life,” she repeats. “He can't look out for her forever.”

Hoseok exhales, sensing that Yoongi isn't quite getting the point. “Okay, just imagine that I hooked up with your younger sister.”

Yoongi grimaces slightly. “Okay?”

“And imagine that I was your best friend, that we grew up together and I saw her grow up and I was… kind of a douche to her back then,” he mutters. “But then everyone grows up and suddenly I’m in the same city as her, you trusted me to look out for her - and instead I ended up in bed with her,” he finishes with a flourish. “What would you do?”

Yoongi squints, clearly trying to process this. “I… I don’t know, that’s a lot to keep track of. And you know what, I don’t have sisters so I really - I mean, I’m not the best person to ask. But you know who is?” he adds quickly, gesturing with his chin at something behind Hoseok.

Hoseok turns to see Namjoon finishing up a conversation with someone, clinking his glass with theirs cheerfully before they part ways.

“He’s your best friend, you kind of grew up together and he has a younger sister.” Yoongi counts them off one by one. “One he’s fairly protective of.”

“Is he?” Hoseok frowns. “Protective of his sister? Like he is with Kaya?”

“Well, it’s not the same situation but he’s protective by nature. And you’re just getting an opinion, not recreating it to the T,” Yoongi reminds him, nudging his shoulder. “He’s your guy.”

Hoseok considers this and nods, making his way over to Namjoon. Namjoon notices him approaching and smiles, which Hoseok returns with a slightly confused one of his own.

“Hoba!” Namjoon exclaims, clapping him on the back and almost knocking the wind out of him. “How’ve you been? Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, uh… no, thanks.” Hoseok shakes his head but agrees to a wonton on the spread in front of them. Chewing, he observes Namjoon, who looks far happier than he can remember seeing him in recent times. It’s not unexpected, given how long he and Kaya spent apart.

Suddenly deciding he doesn’t want to think about why Namjoon looks so happy, he hurries to speak.

“So, uh… say I hooked up with your sister,” he begins quickly, only for Namjoon’s smile to disappear in an instant.

“You… what?” he exclaims, and his height suddenly seems looming.

Hoseok frowns before rolling his eyes. “Say,” he repeats, “that I hooked up with your sister.”

“Oh. Why?” When Hoseok doesn’t answer immediately, Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “Dude, did you sleep with someone’s sister?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hoseok takes a step back and raises his hands. “I did not sleep with her. We didn’t have sex - like, it was so not like that. Because sex is… we didn’t… I mean, no sex was had,” he finishes, his throat feeling dry.

“So I take it you didn’t have sex?”

“No, we didn’t.” But I may as well have, he thinks, flashes of last night surfacing in his mind. Her hair, her skin, her voice like he’d never heard it before… Hoseok sighs. “I went over to Chaeyoung’s last night and we… fooled around,” he confesses, hoping he won’t be asked to elaborate.

Namjoon is far too sensible to do that, fortunately. “Right. And… that’s a bad thing,” he states, as though waiting for Hoseok to confirm it.

He opens his mouth, knowing what he should say. “No,” he admits after a moment. “That’s the worst part, that nothing about it was bad at all.” He shakes his head even as his chest feels lighter for the first time all day. “It was incredible. And not just the - the hooking up, but being with her, laughing and talking… God, we talked all night,” he remembers, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows again, this time looking somewhat impressed. “Sounds like the dream,” he remarks deliberately.

“Yeah?”

“Totally. And clearly you know that because you’re getting that same little smile the thought of it,” he points out. “The one you guys used to tease me about?”

Hoseok immediately straightens his face, not even realising he’d been smiling. “Shut up.”

Namjoon shrugs serenely, finishing his drink and helping himself to a second. “You’re worried about her brother, though,” he guesses.

“More than worried.” He shakes his head and drops his face into his hands. “He’s going to think I totally betrayed him.”

“Did you, though?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” he says urgently. “If I hooked up with your sister - your younger sister - while I’m your friend… what would you do?”

Namjoon frowns uncertainly, apparently thinking about it, then exhales. “I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he admits. “It would feel a little like you were going behind my back? Especially since… well, it’s my sister.” He winces, apparently realising he’s not doing a very good job at explaining this. “No guy ever wants to think about his little sister doing that, least of all with one of his friends.”

“That’s perfect,” mutters Hoseok.

“No, but you know - it’s a little different in Chanyeol’s case,” muses Namjoon, now leaning backwards against the table and pointing at the air, as though it’s an interesting problem he’s solving on an invisible whiteboard. “You actually grew up with him.”

“Isn’t that worse? Because not only did I grow up with him, I grew up with her. And Chan is…” He exhales tiredly. “She won’t believe me, but he’s always been extremely protective of her. Especially since their mom died. Emotionally, physically… I know him - there’s nothing in this world he would prioritise over his sister.”

Namjoon is quiet for a moment. “Is it because their mom died?”

“I don’t know. Probably,” he admits. “He was kind of like the golden child when they were young and she was always a little left out and overlooked… he never admitted it but I know he felt guilty about it. He always tried to make up for it and look after her more - even now, when she moved to Seoul.”

“Well, I can see that,” says Namjoon reasonably. “It’s difficult to see your younger sibling as anything other than a kid, especially when they’re that much younger. You thought of her as a kid, too, if I remember correctly,” he reminds him, irritatingly logical.

“But she’s not a kid anymore,” argues Hoseok. “I did think that at first but… she’s really not. She’s smart and insightful and - and she’s focused on her career. And she’s pragmatic - you know last night during the storm, she had hot water and instant ramen stocked up in case the power went out?” His eyes widen and he shrugs hugely. “Six of us in the dorm and not one of us thought to stock up on food. If I’m not wrong, Jungkook ate a bowl of cold kimchi for dinner while Taehyung ate half a block of cheese. And that was with the power on!”

Namjoon grimaces. “What was happening while I was gone?”

“And she made brownies!” Hoseok exclaims, ignoring his friend. “And they were good. And she was crocheting - she…” He takes a deep breath. “She gave me a crocheted bear,” he tells Namjoon in a low voice. “And I don’t know if she put some kind of spell on it, but for some reason, it won’t leave my pocket.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows but Hoseok can’t seem to stop talking - not now that he’s finally saying out loud things that have been swimming in his brain for months.

“She’s cute and she’s funny - and she’s got this killer confidence. Where did that even come from?” he demands. “She used to be all shy and awkward before but now she’s… oh, and she’s started giving advice now? Good advice, incidentally, and I just want to… I just want to talk to her all the time because sometimes it really feels like she can solve every single one of my problems. And honestly, after last night…” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, glancing at Namjoon’s expression and hating it, “Namjoon, believe me… she’s a grown woman.”

There’s a few seconds of silence where Hoseok fights the urge to yell incomprehensibly into the abyss.

“So… I know you guys don’t really like it when I do this,” begins Namjoon slowly, “but if I understand it correctly, your problem isn’t so much that you slept with Chaeyoung -“

“I didn’t sleep with -“

“- it’s that you’re falling in love with Chaeyoung,” he finishes, nodding as though explaining a rather simple maths problem without wanting to hurt his feelings.

“I’m - I’m not,” murmurs Hoseok, even as his heart sinks for more often than not, Namjoon is right.

“But that changes things,” says Namjoon. “If you actually had feelings for my sister - real feelings, and I was convinced that you weren’t just messing around with her… I would actually be kind of okay with it. It would be weird,” he admits, shuddering a little, “but it wouldn’t be the worst thing. I’m sure it would be the same with Chanyeol. No?”

Hoseok shakes his head. It isn’t as if the thought hasn’t occurred to him, but if there’s one person who knows Chanyeol, it’s him.

“You know, it might? Except, when we were growing up, I was a dick to Chaeyoung,” he admits in a low voice, the shame and guilt bubbling deep in his stomach. “He was protecting her from his parents and his step-mom and other kids… but he was also protecting her from me.”

He doesn’t say it out loud - he can’t, because it’s too shameful, that the one and only time that Chanyeol ever snapped at him, the only time Hoseok ever felt that he could lose his best friend was when he’d warned him to stop making fun of his little sister.

It had been when they were in high school. Hoseok had taken it way down after that, choosing only to tease her in a more playful way or ignore her altogether, usually when Chanyeol wasn’t around. But it was undeniable that even though they’d moved past it, Hoseok had crossed a line.

Until now.

“I’m the last person Chanyeol will be okay with, being with his sister,” he states, knowing it’s true.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Look, Hobi… that was years ago. You were a kid.” He seems to spot something behind Hoseok’s shoulder. “What’s more important is how she feels about your past.”

Hoseok is about to open his mouth when his phone pings at the same time as Namjoon’s. Similar pings are heard throughout the room and when he checks his phone, it’s to see a message on a group chat.

Jimin [13:04] We’re on our way up. Everyone get ready!

As promised, less than a minute later, they hear the lift open and Jimin’s voice sing-song as he speaks. A moment later, he appears at the doorway with Sooah, his face breaking into a cherubic smile as he gestures to the room with a flourish.

“Surprise!”

All the guests chorus together and Sooah, after gasping and seemingly suffering a mild heart attack, begins greeting people who come forward to hug her. Hoseok and Namjoon hang back, allowing her school friends to greet her first, including Taehyung, while Jimin stands beside her proudly, evidently satisfied with her reaction. It’s then that Hoseok sees her.

“Oh, my God, she’s here,” he breathes, instantly turning away but unable to do so for long. He chances a glance at her as he half-hides behind Namjoon’s broad frame; in an oversized striped pink sweater, a short denim skirt, sheer pink stockings and black combat boots, she looks like an ice cream - a cute, pink, irresistible ice cream with slightly flushed cheeks and long wavy hair. Bubblegum punk, he’d said to her once and here she is, clearly embracing it.

“Okay, the worst thing you can do is be dramatic about this,” warns Namjoon. “Just go and talk to her like everything’s - wait,” he says suddenly. “What did you say to her this morning?”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t want to wake her up, so -”

Namjoon turns around with his eyebrows high on his forehead. “You snuck out?” he whispers loudly.

“No! I mean, technically - but I needed to leave for that meeting and my phone was dead so I couldn’t text her. And I didn’t want to wake her up,” he adds defensively, anticipating the question. “Don’t worry, I left her a note.”

“A note?”

“Yeah, and it was a nice note,” he says shortly. “Whatever I do, I’m not going to screw her over like that.”

They go over to greet the birthday girl after that, once the crowd thins out. Hoseok catches Chaeyoung’s eye for the briefest of moments, feeling his heart skip an enormous beat. But she moves away and he follows her slender figure going to place her present on the gift table.

“... thought it was going to be just a small lunch, you and me. You didn’t have to go through all this…”

“I wanted to give you a surprise… don’t you like it?”

“Oh, of course I do, Chim…”

Sooah leans up to press a kiss to Jimin’s cheek, who looks mollified when he spots them, followed by Sooah. “Hey, guys,” she says, leaning up to hug them in turn as they chorus their own happy birthdays to her. “Thank you for coming, I know how busy you all are.”

“Where’s Seokjin hyung?” Jimin asks, scanning the room.

“He said he wasn’t feeling up to it. He says sorry,” adds Hoseok apologetically, while Sooah waves a hand. “He did look quite off even during the meeting this morning.”

Jimin murmurs something noncommittal but shrugs, evidently deciding to let it go when Taehyung and Jungkook join them as well, deep in discussion that abruptly stops when they come into earshot.

“Namjoon oppa, Jimin told me you just got back from New Zealand,” says Sooah. “How was it?”

“Oh, yeah, you never told us,” adds Jungkook. “Did you do the ziplining thing this time?” he asks excitedly

Namjoon takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “No, no, we didn’t,” he answers, chuckling.

“Oh. Well, you must have gone to Milford Sound - he was obsessed with that place the last time we were there,” remembers Hoseok. “Remember? You wanted to stay there longer but the staff made us leave. That’s the kind of place Kaya would like, too.”

“Oh, yeah. It was really nice - but I don’t know, we never really got around to doing that,” he admits.

“Okay.” Jungkook frowns. “What about that Lord of the Rings hike? That’s right up your alley.”

“Er… no. Didn’t end up doing that either.”

Hoseok frowns. “So what did you do for three weeks?”

There’s a few moments where no one speaks and Namjoon doesn’t answer, opting instead to take a long, slow sip of wine and ending it with a soft smack of his lips, all the while when Hoseok finds himself slowly regretting his question.

“Oh. Oh, God.” He swallows before groaning. Jungkook’s ears go red while Sooah and Jimin snort, and Taehyung claps him on the shoulder as they all disperse, clicking his tongue and winking at him.

“Don’t prolong it,” murmurs Namjoon to Hoseok before he leaves, his eyes clearly on Chaeyoung. “Just be normal with her.”

“Right. Normal.” It’s easier said than done, for Hoseok discovers that he’s barely able to look at Chaeyoung without thinking about last night. His feelings for her were tending towards a problematic region long before this, but something had changed irreversibly last night. There was no scope for denial anymore, he realises, not about his attraction to her or deeper emotions that make his stomach flip.

Worst of all, it’s the looming thought of Chanyeol following him every time she enters his mind. He would lose Chanyeol over this, he knows it. Hoseok didn’t think losing Chanyeol would ever even be worthy of consideration in his mind - until Chaeyoung, looking like a cute, pretty, sensitive ice cream.

He drifts towards the table of hors d'oeuvres, trying to force an appetite. Nothing looks appealing, though, not now, but he scans it anyway hopefully. Someone else arrives at the table, and he smells her before he sees her.

“Hi,” says Chaeyoung, giving him a small smile and picking up a small chocolate at the edge of the table.

It’s too much: her summery perfume, her shiny hair, the memory of her naked rib cage underneath his palms while she sighed his name in a way that would make Chanyeol punch him in the face if he knew. He exhales shakily as she takes a step closer to him; even though they aren’t even slightly touching, the proximity makes his heart race and to his horror, he can feel his jeans tighten.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice, dropping all pretense and turning to her.

She raises her eyebrows. “I’m saying hi,” she answers, not sounding even a fraction as frazzled as he feels. She does look… happy to see him, though. The thought makes his heart leap and hurt at the same time.

“Listen, Chae,” he begins, because he just can’t do this. She nods, looking casual and breezy, her cheeks with a hint of pink still on them.

“Yeah?”

“Look, last night was… amazing,” he admits, noting how, despite the casual demeanour she’s displaying, a smile begins creeping up on her face as well. Her lips are pink, too, and glossy… “It was amazing and - and you’re amazing.” Her smile widens slightly and her cheeks flush a little brighter and Hoseok feels his strength start to leave him bit by bit. “But it can’t happen again. No matter how I feel… Chanyeol is still my best friend and you’re still his sister and… you are so off limits.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t seem fazed. Her smile fades slightly but not completely and she licks her lips, as though able to see right through him. “It’s a little late for that, I think,” she says lightly, brushing a lock of hair off her neck.

Be still, my heart. “No, it’s not. I mean, it… yeah. Maybe.” He looks at the floor and exhales deliberately, trying to gather his thoughts. “But it can’t go further. I - I really hope you understand, Chae,” he implores, meeting her eyes, wide and doe-like. “You’re amazing,” he repeats, meaning it, “but…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, then nods. “Okay.” Giving him that same small, nonchalant smile, she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth and walks away.

—

Seokjin wakes up from the worst sleep he’s encountered in a while - and that includes the tour they’ve just wrapped up.

It had taken him a long time to fall asleep. Once he’d finally managed to somewhat numb himself to the fact that he’d just been dumped because his girlfriend thought he’d cheated on her, he’d tried to close his eyes and get just a little while of nothingness. But he felt wrung out; he was emotionally so exhausted that it was hard to even sleep, especially because he knew, he knew, that while his break-up with Seulgi was affecting him, it was the fact that he didn't even know how Nari fit into all this.

Well, he knew. He had an idea and he was aware of the general area in which Nari was involved, but all his strength was going into not thinking about that right now because it was a Pandora’s box he didn't want to rifle through at the moment.

Then, of course, the moment he’d tried to catch a few winks, his phone had started buzzing with updates from Sooah's birthday lunch. Jimin hadn't taken it too well when Seokjin had told him after the meeting that he wouldn't be able to make it and while he hadn't been able to bring himself to explain why, something in his expression must have done it for him, for Jimin had abruptly stopped pestering him and told him to stop by if he felt better.

He checks his phone now, realising he's slept through lunch. The late afternoon sun is already dimming, as though warning the city of an early sunset. He sits up on the couch, his back hurting and head pounding and heart racing from the vague dream he'd had of Seulgi imprisoning him in an underground jail while Namjoon appeared as a hologram and read a list of his crimes.

You're a decent guy, but it loses its charm when there's another woman in the picture.

It was like a sick twist of fate, the momentary relief that Seulgi was breaking up with him until it turned to dread when he realised why she was breaking up with him. And the other woman in the picture… Seokjin runs a hand across his face, knowing that it wouldn't have made anything better if he'd try to explain why he was wearing Nari's joggers in the first place.

No, I wasn't sleeping with her - not at all. I went to her place in the storm to wish her a happy half-birthday in line with a decades-old tradition, we splashed around in the rain for a while where an accidental kiss took place, and then she offered me dry clothes and her couch for the night because she's a doctor and she was worried about hypothermia.

It sounds ridiculous - not to mention like a rather trite story. He'd taken off the joggers the moment he'd entered the dorm, throwing on the first pair of trousers he'd found in his room before driving away for his meeting. He'd chucked it in the washing machine after getting back and then the dryer, and in the absence of anything else to do except overthink his ended relationship, Seokjin stalks over to the dryer and retrieves the washed joggers. Without sitting back down, he collects his keys and prepares to drive over to Nari's.

It will be therapeutic, he supposes, to get rid of the immediate cause of his break-up. Plus, he would get the opportunity to apologise to Nari again - for staying over last night, for accidentally kissing her, maybe for showing up at all.

As he nears her building, he slows down. The street is still empty, although the water guns are no longer where they were last night. It’s almost as though the evidence of what transpired has been wiped away clean; Seokjin can’t decide whether that’s supposed to be a good thing.

There’s a good chance she won’t be home right now, he realises. But he still parks the car where he had last night and steps out, folded joggers in hand, looking up at the corridor window that had blown away her notes last night. It’s open and gives him a direct view of her front door.

Just then, as if on cue, the door opens. Seokjin’s stomach leaps without warning - for she’s home - and despite the bad day he’s had so far, a ghost of a smile graces his face.

Nari appears at the door, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Seokjin takes a step forward but halts immediately in his tracks when she breaks into a relieved sort of smile and she opens the door wider - and someone else appears into view.

It’s a man. It’s him - Jason or whoever - who she’d brought to dinner at his place. She’d maintained that they were simply colleagues but either she’d been lying or the situation had changed since then, but Seokjin is motionless as he watches Jason kiss her casually on the cheek as she moves aside to let him in.

Maybe it’s the culmination of an already dismal day or it’s the unexpected nature of this discovery, but nothing that’s happened so far has crushed his chest quite so viscerally. Seokjin almost hopes he’s mistaking someone else for Nari or it’s a friendly, platonic, even brotherly situation - he’s grasping at straws mentally, even as Jason steps inside and the door closes behind him.

—

Near the late afternoon, when the sunlight starts to become sparse, the party starts to wrap up. Guests begin saying goodbye, passing by the table piled high with gifts on their way to the lift, many people happily day drunk and stumbling out.

“Did you know Sooah had this many friends?” Yoongi mutters, sidling up to Hoseok. He looks longingly at the drinks table next to them, now with far more empty bottles than when they'd first arrived.

“I didn't know someone could have this many friends,” he admits, somewhat admiringly. Across the hall, she looks appropriately engaged, swaying to the Justin Bieber track playing on the speaker and talking to two people as she sipped on a cocktail with a straw. A little way away, Jimin, Taehyung and two other guys he'd never seen before were aggressively popping to the song while simultaneously filming each other and guffawing.

“Sounds like a lot of work.” Yoongi sighs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “When do you want to head out? Because I could use a drink.”

“Oh, is that why you've been sober all day?” Hoseok chuckles. “That’s adorable, hyung. You're like the mother hen trying to get her chickens to walk in a straight line before doing anything else.”

“That's me. Do you see the other chickens around? Namjoon and Jungkook are sharing a cigarette on the balcony,” he notes.

“Jimin and Taehyung are over there, although I’m guessing Jimin will be with Sooah. I don't think they're all Sooah's friends,” he says after a moment. “They aren't close friends at least. I think they're mostly old classmates and stuff that she's kind of in touch with. Jimin just goes all out.”

“He told you that?”

“Not exactly,” he mutters, his gaze moving to the one figure he's been glancing at continuously. Chaeyoung is by the appetiser station again, a clear drink in her hand as she fingers the edge of one of the food cards. Her bottom lip is between her teeth and she's frowning.

As he watches, a friend of Sooah's joins her and says something, to which she nods and laughs politely. He responds and she shrugs, a bit uncertainly, before picking up a single French fry and popping it in her mouth.

“Did you talk to her?”

Hoseok doesn't bother beating around the bush and inquiring who Yoongi is referring to. “Kind of. Went better than I anticipated, actually.”

“Really?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “What did you say to her?”

“Told her last night was fun and all but it can't happen again.” Hoseok turns away from her. “She seemed fine with it.”

“You don't sound fine with it.”

“What do you mean? I'm the one who suggested it.”

“You don't sound fine with the fact that she was fine with it.”

Hoseok glares at Yoongi but doesn’t argue. He turns to Chaeyoung again, this time a bit more alert when he notices her grabbing her sling bag, clearly ready to leave. He follows her pink, wavy-haired figure as she floats over to Sooah and presumably wishes her again before giving her a hug.

He frowns as their interaction continues: Chaeyoung asks her something and Sooah responds easily, tilting her head and giggling as she points to Jimin. Chaeyoung’s face falls for a fraction of a second before it’s replaced with a smile and a nod. They hug again and this time, Chaeyoung starts to leave.

As she does, she meets Hoseok’s eyes. His heart stops briefly but she simply gives him a casual wave and a small smile, before stepping into the lift and waiting for the doors to close.

Hoseok swallows, his mind going a mile a minute for the next few seconds. “Hyung,” he says, “you’re taking the rest of the chickens back to HQ?”

“You know it.” Yoongi follows Hoseok’s gaze. “You have your car?”

Hoseok nods before clapping him on the back and dashing off in the same direction as Chaeyoung. He takes the stairs two at a time and spills out into the lobby of the building, head darting around and spotting a telltale pair of pink stockinged legs disappearing around the corner outside the glass doors.

He follows her, jogging a bit until he’s within earshot. He calls her name and she turns, looking surprised but not altogether disappointed at his presence.

“Hey,” she says, as though they’ve coincidentally run into each other on a normal day. Behind her, the sun is far away at the horizon, a bright spot peeking through the clouds as it prepares to set. Right now, though, it’s difficult to pay attention to it.

“Leaving already?” he asks, a little uselessly, but it’s just occurred to him that he has no idea why he followed her out.

“Yeah, I guess. Most people are gone,” she says. “Plus… I don’t really know anybody there apart from Sooah herself. And you,” she adds with a smile when he raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything else but Hoseok suddenly feels guilty, for three hours at a party not knowing anyone can’t be easy.

“You know the other guys, though,” he says after a moment. “Jimin and, uh…”

“Yeah, I was hanging out with Jungkook for a while.” She nods, fingering the strap of her bag. “It’s getting late, though.”

The decent thing to do would be to offer her a ride. He’s on the verge of doing it; now that he’s here in front of her, everything he’d told her earlier today seems vague and blurry and, frankly, unimportant.

“I’m sorry, Chae.”

She frowns. “Oh, don’t be. It wasn’t that bad - like, the food was good and I got a few nice pictures -“

“No, not about that.”

“Oh.” She licks her lips and nods once. “About that… don’t be sorry about that either. I get it - it’s weird. We’re practically family and you and my brother especially are -“

“Nope. Not that either.”

She stares at him blankly. “I’m out of guesses.”

“I'm sorry for…” What’s more important is how she feels about your past. Namjoon, ever the wise one, had touched upon the only element in this mess that could bring Hoseok out of his pit of guilt about Chanyeol: Chaeyoung.

“Yeah?”

He takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for everything. Everything I did when we were kids, everything I said…” He bites his lip as she processes this, her eyes flickering slightly before they fall to the ground. “I was a huge jerk to you. And I know I was a kid, too, and so were you… but that doesn't mean that it all just disappears when we grow up. I know over the last year we've… gotten closer -”

Her lips twitch and his cheeks grow warm. He hurries his next words.

“- but I still want to say, explicitly, that I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Chae.”

Something massive seems to have been lifted off his chest but a dull pressure still lingers, pulsating in rhythm with his heart beat. Chaeyoung nods again, slowly, and meets his eyes.]]

“Apology accepted,” she says softly.

The pressure recedes; she feels more within reach than ever. It seems unbelievable that not twenty-four hours ago, she'd been on his lap in a state of undress, kissing him while it poured outside, making every other thought in his mind disappear.

“And I'm sorry, too,” she says after a moment, jerking him out of his dangerous train of thought. “I wasn't mean but I was… pretty clingy. Kids get teased mercilessly at that age over a haircut so I'm sure a kid who acted like… well, like me wouldn't have been easy,” she admits, two pink spots appearing on her pale cheeks.

Hoseok wants to kiss her, so desperately. It takes everything in him to stay rooted to the spot, even though there isn't a single part of him that wants to stay away from her. He should, but for the life of him, he can't quite remember why right now.

Chaeyoung exhales, looking slightly awkward but somewhat relieved - or maybe Hoseok is and he's projecting. Either way, she rocks backwards on the heels of her shoes and shrugs. “Well, I'm going to head,” she says abruptly, the pink tinge on her cheeks still visible. “And… thanks.”

“You're walking?”

“Yeah. After the rain last night it's actually kind of nice. And not totally dark yet,” she adds, looking up at the sky.

He should offer her a ride.

“Can I walk you home?” he blurts, pausing internally as he thinks about his car in the parking lot.

She looks surprised, too. “Um, are you sure? Don't you have to get back to the party?”

“Oh, no, the party is almost dead, anyway,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Even Sooah and Jimin seem to be almost done. I'm sure they'll leave in a bit.”

“And to no one's surprise, she's going back to his place.” Chaeyoung shakes her head. “Wow, I've clearly had one too many mojitos.”

Hoseok snickers. “Don't worry about it. With what I think their plans are tonight, you don't want them in the room next to you.”

She wrinkles her nose and then laughs. “True. But you don't have to walk me home. I'm fine.”

“I don't mind. Really.”

“It's, like, a thirty minute walk.”

“Fortunately, I’m kind of good when it comes to stamina.”

Chaeyoung narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest. Ice cream, he thinks instantly, and begins to smile without meaning to.

“Why did you apologise?”

“What do you mean?” He shrugs. “It's the right thing to do.”

“Sure, but why today?”

His heart starts to race - or skip, and he simply shrugs. “Seemed like as good a day as any.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t change her stance. “Are you sure?”

The way she asks it, she seems to have caught onto something. It’s too knowing and Hoseok feels his smile getting wider.

“You’re a pain in my ass, caterpillar.”

That makes her laugh - an open, confident laugh and Hoseok’s heart soars.

“Have been, since two thousand four,” she agrees. “Except, obviously, you apologised for all that.”

“You’re going to be a handful.” The words are out of his mouth before he can control them but he finds he doesn’t mind. Chaeyoung’s smile fades slightly and she bites her lip, the sun starting to set behind her.

“You can walk me home,” she says after a moment, turning around but not moving. Hoseok hesitates for the briefest of moments but joins her as she starts walking, their fingers only inches apart.

—

Yoongi drives in silence, while Namjoon, Jungkook and Taehyung sing along to an old song from a TV show. For members of a world famous band, they all sound terrible - but he supposes that is a talent in itself. In the shotgun seat, Jungkook bounces to the song in the passenger seat while Taehyung adds his own ad-libs throughout, but Yoongi has no energy to tell them to stop.

They near the building and he drives into the basement parking, somewhat dreading going up to his studio. He parks and everybody climbs out; Jungkook mumbles something about the gym while Taehyung makes a phone call and they drift away. Namjoon hangs back, waiting for the younger members to leave their earshot before turning to Yoongi.

“Are you alright, hyung?”

“Bitchin’.” He catches Namjoon’s eye and sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had a rough night, that’s all.”

“Because of the rain?”

That, too. “Yeah. The good news is, I get to go edit debut tracks for a rookie group for the next eight hours.” He clicks his tongue.

Namjoon nods. “You want some company?”

“Maybe later. Once you sober up,” he adds, cracking a smile. Namjoon chuckles good-naturedly before clearing his throat.

“I, uh, didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but… I found this in the back seat.” He fishes something out of his pocket and hands it to Yoongi. Yoongi opens his hand automatically, his stomach turning weakly when a small, bright green earring falls into his palm.

The hook of the earring digs into his palm when he enters the top floor of the building. Yoongi takes a seat at an empty table in the open floor pantry and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his emails. The floor is busier than usual; some team seems to be celebrating a colleague’s birthday at another table, a cake with white icing and a couple of slices messily cut out sitting in the centre of the circle; one producer sits alone at a table with noise cancelling headphones on and typing aggressively on his laptop.

Yoongi looks around absently when his eyes land on the coffee station where - something pounds into his chest - he locks eyes with Miso. She holds his gaze for a couple of seconds before turning her back on him and dealing with her coffee.

The earring feels heavy in his hand and all of a sudden, he feels the urge to hurl it out of the window. There is next to no way it’s making it back to its owner in any case. After Miso had icily got into her car outside the motel this morning and Seungwan had driven her away, Yoongi had walked out of the room and watched her leave, proceeding to smoke two full cigarettes in the chilly morning.

The receptionist from last night had also appeared and he’d offered her a cigarette voluntarily, for she looked rather drained as well. Something about how quiet and isolated the place was, not a sound anywhere or even a breath except for the person next to him, made Yoongi feel so disconnected from everything that he felt numb. It was too early, too cold and too unfair. Next to him, the receptionist had chucked her half-smoked cigarette on the ground.

“You didn’t finish that,” stated Yoongi, not really caring.

She’d glanced at him before turning to look ahead, and Yoongi noticed for the first time the carnage from the storm in front of the motel: tree trucks, piles of scattered branches and leaves, water accumulated and overflowing from a ridge in the ground.

“Fuck it,” she’d said.

Maybe it was the aftermath of a terrible night or some sort of shared dissatisfaction with the world but fifteen minutes later, they were in the backseat of Yoongi’s car. It was quick, casual and ended almost as abruptly as it began, with both of them adjusting their clothes and going their separate ways with a brief, formal goodbye.

It seems like ages ago now, with Miso across the room from him, getting coffee outside her studio. Yoongi lowers his head and stares at his phone screen, not reading anything. From the corner of his eye, he sees her turn around and walk in his direction; she would have to pass him to return to her studio.

He can’t think about their argument last night any longer. It’s been rattling around in his mind all day: the rage, the guilt, the desperate desire to sit her down in front of him and read her damn mind. Most of all, there’s an inkling of shame somewhere, deep down, in knowing that his reaction last night had been exactly what she’d expected.

That’s what it had looked like, at least; her eyes had shuttered over at some point and she’d reverted to the old Miso, the one who seemed to live to annoy him and gave nothing, no indication of who she was or what she was thinking. Her walls that he’d worked so hard to make a crack in had gone up instantly, except this time there was a disappointment there he’d never encountered before.

A flash in front of him jerks him away from the table: a hand appears momentarily, placing a cup of iced coffee in front of him with a small thud, before disappearing. Heart racing in mild shock, he turns to see Miso walking away without a second glance, her fingers wrapped around another cup as she turns the corner of the corridor.

He stares at the cup. Sip it first, he’d say ordinarily, straight-faced with only a hint of irony. You’re just going to have to trust me, Min Suga, she’d say, shrugging and settling into her chair, giving him a challenging raise of the eyebrows.

Yoongi takes a sip of the cold liquid, feeling it coat his throat and savouring the hit of caffeine. After a moment, he gets up and heads down the corridor, stopping at Donghyuk’s studio and pausing before he knocks.

“Come in,” comes Miso’s voice, dry and uninterested.

Yoongi pushes open the door slowly to see her alone at the console, a laptop open in front of her and a singular lamp at the other end of the room being the only source of light. She looks at him very briefly before going back to her work. It almost seems as though she expected him to follow her; he can’t tell if she’s happy about it, though.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says.

She simply nods in response, scrolling through something on the laptop.

“Listen,” he says again, placing the coffee on a table next to him and running a hand tiredly through his hair. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“Last night…” He trails off for a moment, wishing he’d rehearsed this a bit before coming in here. “Well, firstly, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have… anyway. Sorry.”

Miso finally turns to him, looks him up and down, and then turns back around. “‘Kay. Is that it?”

“No.” He exhales. “I hooked up with someone this morning. After you left, the receptionist and I… we had sex.” He cringes inwardly at his own words but he can’t fathom how else to say it without mincing words. She’s still looking at her laptop; he isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but her shoulders stiffen slightly. “Anyway. I just wanted to let you know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then -

“So?”

“Why are you telling me?” she asks, shrugging and turning around briefly. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“I know you’re not. But…” He frowns, trying to suppress the annoyance in his stomach that’s already threatening to bubble up. “I’m just letting you know. Transparency and all that.”

“But it’s none of my business.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, counts to three and slowly exhales. “Right. Well. It’s just something normal people do, I guess. Talk to each other and communicate when they’re…”

She turns around properly this time, her legs folded and her elbows resting on her thighs. “When they’re…” She raises her eyebrows. “When they’re hooking up? We made out a few times… are you telling me because of that?”

He doesn’t respond; he can barely look at her right now, anger and embarrassment creeping into his chest now.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of, Yoongi,” she says knowingly, as though she’s pointing out an unsatisfactory edit to a track. “I told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You stayed, you got attached, and you’re telling me about a one-night stand you had. And now you have some kind of… expectation of me when what you really should have done was stay away right from the start.”

“You know what? I’m starting to think the same thing,” he snaps, shaking his head and going to grab his coffee. “I guess forming an attachment with an ice queen is my lesson.”

“You got me attached, too.” It’s the only thing that makes him stop in his tracks. “And that’s the problem with getting attached - you start to care. And then when you find out something that you can’t help, something that’s out of your control and doesn’t fit the image of me you have in your mind - the damsel that needs saving because, admit it, that’s what I am to you right now - it shatters everything.”

Yoongi grits his teeth, but somewhere his throat starts to hurt. He grips the cup and turns around slowly to see her still sitting in the same position, face and voice unnaturally calm.

He needs to choose his words carefully, he knows, but she makes it impossible to think. “I do care,” he begins slowly in a low voice, staring at the floor. “You can make it out to be whatever saviour complex you want but I do care and I do want to help you and be there for you. What is wrong with you that you won’t let me?” he demands tightly, clenching his fist at his side.

“Because it won’t work,” she continues in that same state of forced calm. “This - this challenge? You can spend weeks and months and do all-nighters and collaborate with whoever you want but it’s not going to work. It’s beyond you now. And once you realise that, it’s just going to be an abandoned project. A file somewhere in your computer you just couldn’t crack. I don’t need to be saved,” she says after a moment. “So it’s better for you that you stop trying. And maybe you won’t be so disappointed anymore.”

Yoongi stares at her, her impassive eyes and slouched figure. It’s exhausting; he’s tired and drained and helpless and she simply moves farther and farther away each time.

“You got it, Kang Chanel,” he mutters. “I’ll stay away.” Not wanting to spend a second longer in here, he turns around and walks out of the studio.

Miso watches him leave, using every bit of strength in her to keep her mind blank, to push every single thought and emotion out and, for just a few hours, focus on something that isn’t her clusterfuck of a life. She spends the next few hours alone in the studio, eating take-out from a box and going on a Zoom meeting with Donghyuk.

When it’s nearly midnight, hours longer than she’d thought she’d stay (but wishing she could for longer), she begins to wrap up, saving and closing demo files and packing up her notebook, when her inbox pings.

“Damn it, Donghyuk,” she sighs, bending over to squint at the screen in the dark. Her heart skips a beat when she sees an instant message from Min, Yoongi. Index finger hovering over the mouse, she takes a deep breath and opens it. It’s a screenshot of what looks like a folder on a Mac laptop, but empty. She frowns when her laptop pings again.

[Prod Suga] [00:02] [screenshot] This is all the abandoned projects I’ve had in ten years. Happy to stay away, but don’t you dare call yourself a project ever again.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

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daechwitatamicrecs · 1 month ago

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it's my first time being here for a live update!!!! so exciting!!!!

taehyung's "this is not suspicious at all" made my face crack into this huge ass smile i JUST LOVE HIM!!!!!! HE IS SOOOOOOO HIMMMMMM ALL THE TIME AND I JUST. CANNOT HANDLE. HOW MUCH LOVE I HAVE INSIDE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND SO DID "Yoongi hyung corrupting the children since 2013" GODDDDDDD I JUST LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS WHOLE. TEXT CONVO. IS GIVING ME LIFE.

THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i am happy to see seokjin and seulgi end because it potentially clears the road for him and nari but... i have a feeling... you will continue to make problems anyway!!!

chaos, buddy. just... chaos. i also cackled over taekook's version of girl dinner.

RAHHHHHHHHH can't wait for the next oneeeeeeeeeeee

edit: i am an IDIOT this was in response to cath's interlude: hyung line

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

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daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

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broooooooooooooooooooooo jungkook did NOT need to get scooted closer to the ledge, he was doing just FINE on his own lmfao

hahahahaha i was RIGHT the "crossed a boundary" was jaykayyyyyyyy

WHT DO YOU MEAN I AM CAUGHT UP? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN NO LONGER BINGE ALL DAY??? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MYSELF NOW???????

Part 2: A Stormy Night

Summary: Namjoon is on holiday with his girlfriend - and without Namjoon, all hell breaks loose.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, smut, chaos

Word count: 20 fkn K (idk how I did it)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, making out, oral sex, sex, dirty talk, masturbation

A/N: I have no words because way too much happens in this fic and I am exhausted. Starts right from the end of A Rainy Day. Highly, highly recommend reading Part 1 first - this story will make almost zero sense without it.

Tagging: @bbl32@quarter-life-crisis2@dreaming-with-happiness@faearchives@margopinkerton@purpleseoul7@confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “bittersweet symphony" by the verve

teaser | part 1 | main masterlist

On a warm summer afternoon, a young girl walked home alone. The pavement under her feet was rough, poking the soles of her feet through the thin flip flops. She brushed her fingers absently against the picket fences on her way, unaware - or simply uncaring - of the beautiful day it was; the green gardens; the picturesque street of her childhood; the bees hovering lazily over colourful flowers.

Perhaps she wasn’t at the age where she understood the beauty in the simple things. Or perhaps she was distracted, and somewhat sad, that she was walking home alone on such a beautiful day. It was, after all, her birthday.

When she reached home, her mother was sifting through mail at the dining table. The birthday cake she knew she would cut later this evening sat on the kitchen counter in a pink cardboard box, and she could see her name through the transparent top, written in chocolate icing.

Her mother noticed. “You’ll just have to wait till this evening,” she sang, wiggling her eyebrows in exaggeration.

She responded with half a smile; maybe her mother hadn’t realised, but she was fourteen today, much past the age where her birthday cake was the highlight of the day. Still, she was grateful her mother was trying, that she was here - unlike everyone else.

“Anything for me?” she asked hopefully.

“As a matter of fact,” said her mother, pushing a small pile of differently coloured envelopes towards her, “there is.”

For the first time this afternoon, she felt excited. Reaching for the pile, she scooped them into one hand and hopped off her chair, immediately running upstairs to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

If her friends were not in town for her birthday, at least they might have wished her from afar. She had received a couple of e-cards: brightly coloured animations that opened in another window of Internet Explorer, slowing down the internet connection in her entire house.

But this whole year, all the cool kids in school had gotten into the fad of writing letters. It probably had something to do with the new drama that had come out last year, set in the nineties where the characters made it through the entire plot mostly through letters across the country.

Naturally, everybody had become inspired, finding emails and text messages too bourgeois, and opting to write letters to each other even if they lived in the same block.

She understood it. There was something extremely satisfying about folding the sheet of paper, placing it in a crisp white envelope, sticking a stamp on it and depositing it in a mailbox, watching it disappear into the abyss and waiting for the day your friend’s response arrived in the mail.

Now, she fell onto her stomach on the bed and picked the first one to read. Everybody wished her a happy birthday, talked about their spring vacation, missed home and gushed about meeting once the semester resumed. Each letter was like a little wave from a different part of the country; subconsciously, one letter kept getting set aside until it was the only letter left, the last pastel blue envelope with her name in a familiar scrawl.

Hey birthday girl,

I hope you’re not too lonely without me (and all your other friends, but mostly me). You know I wish I could’ve been there to smear your face with cake and watch you get all dramatic about it but since I can’t, I’m just going to picture it and laugh my ass off (LMAO).

Busan is nice but it’s so hot! My favourite cousin didn’t come this time so I’m stuck with her two little brothers who spend all their time playing with sticks they found in the garden and pretending they’re swords. I wish I could join them but it’s honestly been way too long since something like that sounded fun.

Speaking of which, did you like your birthday present?? I totally wanted to see your face when you opened it! But when my parents told me I wouldn’t be there, I gave it to your mom that morning you got late for school and asked her to give it to you.

(And here I hope you’re reading this AFTER she gave you the present, otherwise the surprise is ruined LOL)

Anyway, I know we were supposed to go out on your birthday so I promise we will when I’m back… but it won’t be your actual birthday so I’ll DEFINITELY make it up to you next year. Or if that seems too far away, we can celebrate your half-birthday - whichever sounds better. Maybe all three (although I hope not because I’ll probably run out of pocket money by then).

Hope you have a great day and you BETTER write back. Splotch some icing on your face from me.

- Your favourite person on Earth (you KNOW I am)

She read it three times, giggling quietly and wishing he were here so she could flick his forehead every time he cracked a lame joke. Her cake and future present forgotten, she clambered off the bed with the letter and sat at her desk. Reaching for the light pink stationery set her aunt had gifted her this morning, she tucked her hair behind her ear and began writing her reply.

—

The rain is pouring with a vengeance now, and Jimin blinks it out of his eyes as he hurries into the hotel manager’s office. His hair is wet and the AC blows a gust of freezing air through it, making him shiver.

“Sir,” he begins, then stops. The manager turns around and Jimin blinks. “Um… Mr Moon?”

“Oh - he is busy with another client,” says the manager. “I’m Mr Jang - Jang Jiyeong - at your service. The deputy manager.” He reaches forward to offer a hand that Jimin takes, confused.

“But I just spoke to Mr Moon on the phone - I’m his client,” he says, a bit hassled now. “I called him an hour ago about booking the gazebo for the night and he assured me it was free - and dry. And now I can’t get ahold of him.”

“I’m sorry - let me see what I can do,” mutters Mr Jang, dialing a number and looking up at the ceiling as the phone rings. Jimin stares at him for a minute until he puts the phone down. “Apologies, Mr…”

“Park. Park Jimin.”

“Mr Park Jimin, yes - you see, I can’t -” He stops abruptly and his eyes go wide. “Park Jimin, the idol? My daughter loves you! Would you sign an autograph for her?” he asks, eyes shining excitedly.

“I will come to her in person and thank her for being a fan,” says Jimin deliberately, hearing his own voice shake, “If you can please help me get in touch with Mr Moon.”

“Ah, yes, Mr Moon. I apologise,” he says quickly, apparently remembering himself. “I’m sorry, sir, I couldn’t reach him. But I’m sure it’s just because of signal issues. In fact, if you wait right here, I’m sure he’ll -”

He’s interrupted by the door slamming open and Mr Moon stumbling in with a wet umbrella. “Oh, Mr Park, you’re here,” he says, sounding relieved. “Sir, I’m sorry to tell you but we’ve run into a slight problem. You see -”

A loud clap of thunder makes them all jump and is on cue, the lights fizzle out and the office is plunged into darkness.

“- we seem to have lost power.”

—

“Okay - what? Wait, slow down.” Taehyung winces at Jimin’s incensed shouts on the phone. He looks up to see Jungkook approaching, pushing his sweaty bangs back with a headband and taking a seat at the lateral pulldown machine. He raises his eyebrows and Taehyung puts the call on the speaker. “So - okay, so where are you now?”

“I’m driving down from that stupid hotel back down to Gangnam!” he answers, sounding livid. “Apparently half the city has lost power including a damn five star hotel - so I thought I could try the astronomy museum across from the office,” he adds sullenly.

Jungkook frowns, wrinkling his nose. “The one we all went to after we debuted?”

“Yes, well, I don’t have a lot of options,” sniffs Jimin, followed by the sound of water splashing. “But it had that auditorium where you lie on the ground and they display the history of the universe or whatever. I figured fake stars are the best I can do tonight,” he grumbles.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, sensing that telling his friend that Sooah will like whatever he does would be unhelpful at this time. “There’s that Japanese place next door to it, too, if you want to pick up food from there.”

“Yeah, that’s probably what I’ll do because the caterer that I booked today has gotten stuck in the rain because their car broke down. All I have is a single bottle of champagne that wasn’t even my first choice, my hair is wet and not in a sexy way, and now the gourmet meal I’d planned is going to be replaced by takeout sushi! This is the worst birthday ever!”

“Doesn’t Namjoon hyung have a liquor cabinet in his studio? He might have a bottle of champagne you can borrow.”

“Yes, he does, and I called him to ask for the password to his studio but he didn’t answer.” There’s the sound of a screeching horn, followed by Jimin swearing under his breath.

Taehyung and Jungkook look at each other, both lost for words. “Hey, uh, Jimin hyung,” says Jungkook slowly, looking up at Taehyung for approval, who nods at him to go on. “Listen… we won’t keep you, but let us know if you need any help, okay?”

“My socks are drenched!” With that, Jimin hangs up.

“Wow.” Taehyung places his phone on his hand towel, folded neatly by his water bottle. “This is the most stressed he’s ever been in… like, years?”

“Since that outdoor taping of Filter, where the wind kept blowing the hat off his head mid-routine,” remembers Jungkook, and they snicker. “I’m glad I’m not out there right now. Although the rain does look kind of nice from here,” he comments, pointing to the window by the treadmills.

“I take it you did cancel your date finally?” Taehyung asks, stretching his triceps over his head. He hadn’t intended on doing much at the gym except for giving Jungkook some company, but Jungkook had been so excited about teaching him this new exercise his trainer had taught him that Taehyung had gone along with it and surprisingly enjoyed the endorphin rush.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too keen on it,” he replies dismissively, reaching up for the bar and pulling it down in a smooth motion, face screwing up slightly with the weight.

“Really? Because the first time you saw her - wait, what’s her name again? Haneul?”

“Hana.”

“Right - the first time you saw her when you went to get your first tattoo, you couldn’t stop talking about how hot she was,” he recalls. “Remember? You called me when I was at my parents’ and kept saying you’d just met the woman you were going to marry? And then you corrected yourself and said you probably wouldn’t marry her but you could see yourself proposing at least once?”

“Oh, man.” Jungkook grimaces, the tip of his ears reddening. “I was a stupid kid.”

“Nah, you were cute.”

“Stupid,” repeats Jungkook, grunting as he finishes his last rep of the set and lets go of the bar. Taehyung offers him a sip of water, grinning at his embarrassment. “But she’s still hot. And she’s pretty chill, too, but… I dunno. Not feeling it today. But I’ll probably catch up with her after Sooah’s birthday lunch tomorrow,” he adds, straightening up and beginning his second set.

“Sure, if Jimin hasn’t had a nervous breakdown and cancelled the lunch in a fit,” says Taehyung, rolling his eyes. “God, my arms are going to kill me tomorrow,” he mutters, turning to the wall mirror and stretching his biceps again.

Jungkook flashes him a toothy smile in the mirror. “No pain, no gain, hyung,” he says wisely.

Taehyung gives him a playful smack on the shoulder and moves towards the mirror, observing his biceps from different angles in the light, wondering if today’s workout is actually making a difference.

“Looking sexy, hyung,” remarks Jungkook, finishing his second set and standing up.

“I know, right? C’mon, we have to take a picture,” he instructs, waving him over and reaching for his phone. “Let’s commemorate my last gym session for the rest of the month.”

Jungkook chuckles, pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up to reveal his own biceps. “The fans will get a kick out of this.”

Taehyung flexes his own and points the phone at the mirror and clicks, then groans. “No way, your muscles are way too big,” he complains, reaching over and shoving Jungkook’s arm out of the way. “They make mine look so silly.”

“Nuh-uh, your face looks better in the picture -” Jungkook starts to say, trying to force his arms further in focus as Taehyugn tries to push them away. They grapple jokingly until Jungkook pulls him back in a pretend headlock and faces the mirror, his biceps firmly in the centre of attention.

Taehyung snorts but has to admit that the pose looks hilarious, so he flexes his own bicep and holds his phone up with the other hand, and both of them grin at the mirror. “Perfect.”

Jungkook laughs and lets go of Taehyung as the latter starts typing a caption. “Is ‘gym bros’ too predictable?” he asks.

“Nah, it’s fine. Wait, are you posting it on Instagram or Weverse?”

“Neither. I’m sending it to Dilara.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, long enough for Taehyung to look up at him. “Do you… I mean, you think she’ll be okay with that? Us hanging out?” he adds when Taehyung raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung blinks, then sighs heavily. “Alright, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, properly. Look - let it go.”

When he doesn’t continue, Jungkook frowns. “Let, uh… let what go?”

Taehyung tilts his head and gives him a look, not fooled. “Look, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I get why you did it, alright? She’s your friend,” he says simply. “And that’s separate from our relationship. You were a good friend to her when I couldn’t be there for her and it’s not fair to assume that that won’t continue just because we’re back together now.”

Jungkook’s eyes, huge and doe-like, seemingly process this information. “She’s my friend,” he murmurs in agreement, almost as though he’s saying it to himself.

“Yes. She’s your friend. And as we’ve established over the many, many years we’ve known each other, that you get protective of your friends,” explains Taehyung. “Like the time that interviewer made fun of Jin hyung, or when that fan was taking pictures under Nayeon’s skirt when she was at the edge of the stage? You stood behind her and accidently kicked the phone out of his hand?” Both of them shudder at the memory.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to Taehyung and he slowly nods. “She’s my friend,” he repeats, “and I get protective of my friends. She’s my friend,” he says, half-chuckling, sounding almost relieved that Taehyung apparently seems to understand this now.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at this effusive response but goes along with it. “Yeah, she is. So… you know. I get it.”

“Right. So… so we’re really cool?” Jungkook asks.

His eyes shine hopefully, enough to make Taehyung’s heart break just a little. He places his hands on either side of Jungkook’s face. “Yes, you ridiculously muscled kid,” he says seriously, squeezing his face. “Now will you please chill the fuck out about this?”

“You got it,” says Jungkook immediately. “And, uh… Dilara, too?”

“Even more so, if it’s possible. In fact, she, uh -” He takes a step back, moving to leave. “She asked me to ask you if you’ve got the sequel to the last Resident Evil… Hazardous Waste installment or something on your Playstation. And since I couldn’t care less, maybe you could text her yourself and let her know?”

“Definitely.” Jungkook nods, sounding relieved. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, this is more than enough exercise for me. It’s kind of getting in the way of my lying around time,” he points out, grabbing his things and waving.

“Alright. Oh, send me the picture!” Jungkook calls, seeing Taehyung’s thumbs up before he disappears out the glass doors.

—

The auditorium in the astronomy museum is less than ideal but Jimin knows he is fast running out of options. While the museum is almost shutting down for the night, he manages to keep it open for a sum, for a private tour with whom the manager refers to as his “lady friend”.

He’s at the gift shop, ruminating over a blanket and some fake champagne flutes, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Expecting the manager again, he fishes it out and tucks it in between his ear and shoulder.

“Hello?” “Jimin?”

Jimin drops the items he’s holding and picks up the phone. “Sooah? Hey, I was just going to -”

“Jimin, where the hell are you?” she yells, her voice barely audible over the rain. “It’s so dark - how do I even find you?”

“What do you -” And suddenly, Jimin’s heart stops, for he does know what she means. This can’t have possibly happened, he reasons, his heart pounding and stomach dropping at the same time. Somewhere, in the midst of securing one venue after another, coordinating with various sellers and bitching to his friends while driving in a storm, he has forgotten to inform the birthday girl of the change in plans.

“I’m at the park! Chim!” The sound of the rain is even louder now. “I’m holding the yellow umbrella at the front gate but, babe, it’s pitch black,” she tells him, sounding uncertain. “Are you sure this is even a good idea tonight?”

Jimin falls to the ground, resting on his heels, and presses the ball of his palm to his eyes. This night was already starting to seem unsalvageable, but now it suddenly feels like an all-time disaster.

“Sooah,” he starts, feeling exhausted and defeated all at once, “listen, I’m… fuck, I am so sorry.”

“What? Chim, I can barely hear you,” comes her voice, slightly muffled through the rain. “Listen, the night guard here just told me the park is closed? Can you please come here? Or - or can you come to the Caffetta across the street? The rain is just way too strong here.”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Yes, yes - I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and abandons the shopping, heading straight to the parking lot and going to Sooah. This drive feels like a blur; Jimin tries to ignore the disappointment, knowing that if he doesn’t rein it in now, he’s bound to start crying and that’s the absolute last thing Sooah needs after the hideousness that’s been this night.

He spots the logo of the Caffetta coffee shop as he’s nearing the park, the place where it all began today, and slows down the car. A brand new coffee chain borne out of a coffee brand, with branches all over Seoul, the place looks incredibly cozy and warm from where Jimin is, in the cold and the rain surrounded by dim streetlights and nothing else. He hurries inside, no longer caring if he gets wet in the process.

Sooah is in a cushy armchair, finger combing her hair when she looks up and spots him and, in what is probably the only highlight of Jimin’s day so far, she beams at him.

“Hey, I was starting to get worried,” she says as she walks up to him, immediately moving to hug him. He hugs her back, feeling his face start to morph as the urge to cry in anger starts to take over, until he takes a deep breath to force it away.

She squeezes his shoulders before stepping away. “What happened? You sounded really stressed over the phone,” she says, taking him by the hand to the table she was sitting at.

Jimin sinks into the chair next to her and sighs, wondering where to begin. He looks around briefly; it’s a pretty café, full of warm brown and yellow toned furniture, beanbag chairs and a corner booth - but it’s also almost empty. Aside from one table with a man and woman who look to be in their forties, and one younger man with headphones around his neck and a laptop in front of him, Sooah is the only other patron.

He turns back to look at her, eyes roaming over her damp hair. Her sweater had clearly gotten wet; she’s taken it off and draped it across the back of her chair, left only in a thin full-sleeved shirt and jeans.

“I tried to…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I tried. I really did. I wanted to give you an amazing birthday, booking out the park and getting gourmet catering and falling asleep under the stars, but…” He rubs his eyes. “Everything got so fucked up.”

Sooah frowns slightly but it disappears, being replaced by a growing smile. “That actually sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, I knew you would love it!” he exclaims, feeling even worse now. “And then it started raining so I tried to move it and then I tried to book a hotel - but then the stupid power went out everywhere and the food never arrived,” he lists, “and all I had left was the champagne… which I now realise I left at the museum.” He swears and drops his head into his hands.

“Oh, my God.” Sooah is silent for a moment before moving, and he feels her soft hands on his. “Jimin. All I want for my birthday is to be with you. Anything you do will be lovely - I’ll love it no matter what.”

“It’s your first birthday since we got back together,” he says in a small voice, sniffing and looking up. “We’re always on-and-off and I don’t want this time to be like all the other times. Starting with this.”

She bites her lip, and Jimin is somewhat glad to see how affectionate she looks. “God, you really still are the sweetest guy I’ve ever known,” she murmurs, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “And you look cold. It means everything that you tried, baby, but I promise - I don’t care about that stuff.”

Jimin gives her a look. “That’s just not true. You… you’re - ” He struggles for the words, then gives up. “You’re Kim Sooah!”

She frowns, bewildered. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You love grand gestures! All the way from that chocolate-based treasure hunt in high school. And you just said the park thing sounded amazing.”

“Okay, yes, I would’ve loved that,” she admits, a little sheepishly. “I would’ve been blown away. But not at the expense of your evening. Chim, no grand gesture is worth you taking this much stress over it. And that part is true.”

Despite how much of a bust this evening has been, Jimin finally cracks a smile. “I promise lunch tomorrow will be better.”

“A simple restaurant, as long as it’s just you and me.”

“Yup,” he confirms, straight faced. “Totally.”

She pokes his forehead teasingly before kissing him. “Oh, wait. What was your original plan at the park, anyway? Like a picnic?”

Jimin shakes his head. “It was going to be a movie screening, just for us. Delicious food, champagne, a couch, the night sky above us… It would’ve been pretty spectacular. But honestly, I’m just tired now. Not to mention freezing.”

“I’m glad you said that because you know what? So am I.” Sooah stands up and heads towards the front of the shop and begins to order something.

Jimin jumps to his feet. “Absolutely not,” he says firmly, hurrying over and sliding in between her and the counter, before turning around to face her. “You are not going to pick up the tab on your birthday, too. Not unless you want me to kill myself.”

“Dramatic much?” she asks, making a face but moving away anyway. “Fine, a hot chocolate for me and…” She cranes her neck to read the menu. “And a hotdog. I’ll get us a better table,” she adds as he waves her away, brandishing his wallet in the air.

When Jimin returns with the food, it’s to see Sooah at a table in the back of the cafe, this time on a plush couch right by the window. She reaches eagerly for the hot chocolate, even before he’s set the tray down. He doesn’t go for the food, though; instead, he sits back on the couch next to her and sighs. The streets outside are dark, with the rain blurring every shape in the city and only the glow of streetlights piercing through the storm, like little charms. Now that his hair is drying, the view actually looks pretty.

“You okay?”

“You know, in a really twisted way, I’m glad the whole thing got ruined to the point where I just can’t salvage it, no matter what.” He gives her an apologetic look. “I mean, I wish it had worked out, but… God, this is the first time all day that I’ve finally relaxed.”

Sooah snickers, reaching over and kissing him on the cheek. “I was just thinking, though - maybe it’s not a total bust,” she points out, unlocking her phone and getting ready to type. “What was the movie?”

“Guess.”

“I dunno. Star Wars?”

“You -“ He gasps, affronted. “You think my romantic evening was going to be with Star Wars? Damn, Sooah, I thought you got me. It was going to be Grease.”

“Best movie of all time,” she agrees excitedly, typing it in. “And my favourite. And what do you know?” She turns the phone screen towards him. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Convenient,” he says, nodding. “But this wasn’t really how I’d pictured -”

“Things very rarely happen the way we picture it, Chim,” she says wisely. “But, as Chaeyoung told me that one day my face broke out right before a work event and I was out of concealer, we just have to make the best of it,” she says, placing her phone against the cute little tissue dispenser on the table so it faces them. “And I didn’t believe it would work either,” she adds, handing him one of her Airpods, “until she helped me discover the beauty of simply being who you are.”

“Wow.” Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes. That and BB cream.”

He nods, feeling so lucky in this moment that he feels sorry for every other individual out there who doesn’t have someone like Sooah. Taking the Airpod and tucking it into his ear, he picks up his own hot chocolate as she starts the movie. Maybe a movie on a big screen under the stars with gourmet food and champagne simply wasn’t in the cards tonight. Maybe this, shared earbuds and cuddling on a couch with hotdogs and hot chocolate, while the rain poured outside, was their BB cream.

“Oh, hang on.” He stands up and places his hot chocolate on the table. “I forgot something; I’ll be right back.” He jogs out of the cafe and runs to the car, wincing at the rain again. Determined to make at least one thing go according to plan tonight, he throws open the passenger door and retrieves the Gucci hoodie.

—

When their car almost hits a pothole, the jerk from swerving out of its way makes Yoongi feel like his stomach is falling out his back.

“Oh, my God, will you please drive in a straight line?”

Yoongi grits his teeth and exhales sharply out of his nose, barely hanging on to his last shred of patience. “Hey, you know what? If you think you can do a better job, you drive next time.”

“Oh, really? Do you think you’ll actually let me in the drivers’ seat of your precious Range Rover next time?” Miso snaps, but it lacks its usual bite.

Yoongi chances a glance at Miso, looking away from the chaotic windshield for a moment. Her back is pressed to the passenger seat and her hands grip the edges, knuckles white. Her pale face looks a bit green but when another flash of lightning occurs, her entire face comes into view for a fraction of a second.

“Eyes on the road, Min Suga!”

“I can’t see anything!” Yoongi exclaims, turning back to the road and clicking his tongue in frustration. “There are too many trees and the damn leaves are flying everywhere! Fuck!” He swears, hitting the steering wheel. “One thing can’t go right today!”

“Oh, God,” mutters Miso. “Not this again.”

“Why the fuck not?” Yoongi demands. “I had been preparing for this meeting for weeks! Do you have any idea how many presentations and budgeting meetings I sat through with the management? Preparing demo after demo, just for you to get all prissy in there and ruin it?”

“Prissy? I was defending you, you prick!” she retorts. He can see her shift slightly to orient herself towards him, probably so she can yell at him more easily. “That guy was treating you like dirt, acting like you were some silly singer who didn’t know jack shit about business!”

“So what? He’s an arsehole - everybody knows it!” he argues, maneuvering through a blind turn on the highway. “But we need his money! We needed this investment because my - a lot of things depend on this! And now -” He huffs and breaks off, shaking his head and trying to focus on the treacherous road.

“You were really okay being spoken to like that? I don’t believe it,” she states. “You have way too much pride for that - and I can’t believe you’re getting mad at me for standing up for you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you didn’t just stand up for me - you insulted him to his face!” Yoongi scoffs, more out of frustration than anything. “It’s not about pride, Miso. Nothing comes for free, so if him making his little digs was going to ensure he gives us what we want, it’s fine!”

“What we want - you mean his money? He insulted your whole career - aren’t you the one who always says that music is the soul of this company?” She reminds him. “That that’s why you feel so protective over it, because you built it or whatever?”

“I - that’s still true,” he admits, reeling a bit at the realisation that she remembers a conversation from ages ago. “Music may be the soul of the company but it still needs cash to run. You probably don’t value it as much because you’ve always got it so easy, but some of us have to take shit -”

“Oh, here we go,” she interrupts loudly, and he can hear her rolling her eyes. “Obviously I can’t make it through one investor meeting because I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Because I eat gold and burn money for fun. Is that it?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Jesus. You talk big about taking shit to make a company run - is that why you’re still agonising over a fucking collaboration because you’re afraid it will hurt Namjoon’s feelings? Even though it’s sure to top the sales of any solo this company has ever put out?”

Yoongi grips the steering wheel so hard it makes his forearms hurt. “That is a completely different thing. I’m not okay with betraying someone I’ve worked with for so long - someone I lived with for over a decade for a project.”

“Why not?” she argues. “How is it different? He’s in the business, too, isn’t he? He’s a smart guy - he probably knows it’s okay to take a couple of digs if it means getting what you want.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, finally approaching the end of the highway, Seoul now almost within view. “Fucking hell, the road is flooded.”

“Shit.” Miso sighs. “Are you sure your car has enough ground clearance?”

“Only one way to find out.” He pushes on, the wiper blades working over time. “Damn it, how did it get so late?”

“Maybe you took one too many digs on a rainy day.”

“God, will you shut up for two seconds?”

“Sure, probably around the same time you grow a spine. You know, you can give me a little credit,” she continues, cutting Yoongi off just as he turns to her furiously. “I was sent here with you for a reason. You may know a lot more than me about music but this is more than just artistry - it’s a business. And as the only person in this car with a business degree, I think I can -”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You think you were sent for this meeting because of your degree?” he retorts. “You were sent because you're Kang’s Jaesung’s daughter, another billionaire who invested in the company! They hoped that guy would see you, find out who your father is, and see him as a viable example to invest! That’s why you were sent here - you’re a proof of concept!”

There’s silence in the car, the rain sounding loud and like a hundred gunshots on the roof of the car. Yoongi breathes heavily, grimly satisfied at finally having shut her up - not least because the road ahead looks chaotic as hell.

“What the -”

There’s the faint sound of honking in the distance, followed by two cars driving by them in the opposite direction and spraying a wall of water on his car as they do. Yoongi wants to wonder out loud but he stops himself, deciding there’s no way to go but forward.

At that moment, his phone rings and he answers out of habit, ignoring Miso’s quiet scoff. “Hello?”

Seokjin’s voice emanates out of the speaker. “Yoongi!” he exclaims, voice sounding urgent. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

Yoongi swerves a bit, trying to avoid branches and leaves on the ground that have turned to mulch. Next to him, Miso straightens up, her eyes up ahead on the road. “Shit,” she mutters.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” says Seokjin, apparently thinking Yoongi’s question was intended for him. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh… that. The ones for the idols?” Yoongi asks absently, starting to spot some kind of commotion up ahead - but the rain is making it too blurry. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?”

But Yoongi hardly hears him, for his headlights don’t shine on the tree trunk blocking the road until he’s only a few feet away from it.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!”

“Fuck!”

Miso’s hands appear out of nowhere and turn the wheel with surprising strength, just edging the car out of the trunk’s way. Yoongi’s foot hits the brake automatically and the car screeches to a painful stop.

Yoongi turns the car off, his heart thumping madly. Miso’s hands disappear just as quickly as they appeared and he turns to see her just as shaken as he feels, brushing her bangs off her face. She meets his eyes, glares and looks away.

“Uh, hyung?” Yoongi says, realising suddenly that they aren’t alone. “I’m going to have to call you back.” Without waiting for Seokjin to answer, he hangs up.

Once again, there’s silence inside the car. The tree trunk is blocking almost the entire road and now that they’ve stopped, Yoongi can see barricades up ahead, along with traffic police carrying flashlights.

“Are you okay?” he asks Miso, giving her a sideways glance.

“Spectacular.” She doesn’t turn away from the window. “Let’s go,” she adds in a smaller voice.

Yoongi obliges, turning the car back on and driving around the trunk up to where the barricades are. “The road looks blocked,” he says, but she doesn’t respond. It isn’t until one of the policemen, shrouded in a thick plastic raincoat, tells them the same thing and informs them that this is only the first of many tree trunks blocking the highway and that it will take all night to clear the road to Seoul, that Miso speaks.

“What do we do now?” she asks, almost to herself.

“Well, we’re not getting out of here tonight.” Yoongi sighs and moves the car to the side of the road, before turning off the engine. He runs a hand through his hair; this is not how he saw this evening going. “I’m guessing we can’t call a car from Seoul either.”

“No, we can’t,” she confirms in a mutter, looking at her phone. “If there was any way into Incheon, Seungkwan would’ve found it. I’m telling him I’m checking into a hotel for the night,” she adds, shaking her head.

Yoongi nods, glad he doesn’t need to create a fake plan so people don’t come looking for him. He knew her father was out of the country, which meant her neglectful mother might be the only one capable of realising she’s missing.

Miso catches his eye, almost as though she knows what he’s thinking. “My mother is on a spa weekend.”

“Okay. Well, now that you’ve covered your bases…” He trails off, asking the obvious question with a shrug.

“I guess we find some place to kill the night,” she finishes.

A combination of Google Maps and dubious road signs later, Yoongi and Miso find themselves checking into a motel by the highway. It doesn’t look too secure in terms of safety but Yoongi reasons that they just need to make it to daybreak, once the rain has stopped and at least one road is cleared out.

The receptionist looks tired herself, looking to be in her early thirties at best, with her hair in a ponytail and faded sweatshirt, circles under her eyes and a complete disinterest in the guests she’s checking in. The only thing that strikes him about her appearance is a pair of thin gold earrings with a brilliant green stone in the middle.

“ID?” she asks listlessly, barely looking up at them.

Yoongi and Miso exchange a wary look; without speaking, they hesitantly place their drivers’ licenses on the counter. If the receptionist sees anything familiar in either name, she doesn’t show it. She simply checks them in, the green earrings catching the light of the table lamp next to her.

“Room 104, straight down. Follow me,” she says in a monotone, taking a big yellow key off a board on the wall and starting to walk down the hall. It’s a small, unassuming establishment, with the ground floor opening up into the open, a patch of grass separating it from being right on the sidewalk.

Frowning, Yoongi follows her after making sure Miso is, too. The receptionist stops in front of a room and unlocks it, jiggling the key a couple of times before the door creaks open.

“Water is complimentary, snacks are chargeable. Check-out is at ten am. Have a lovely stay with us.” Her face unchanging, she turns to leave.

“Wait a second,” says Miso, stopping her. “We’re two people. And we’re not together,” she adds pointedly, ignoring Yoongi’s sigh as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

The receptionist seems to not register the implied statement for a few moments. “We only have one room left,” she states. “If you wish, you can look for something else up the highway.”

Miso bites her lip, her jaw hardening. All of them turn to look at the street, the rain coming down in waves of fury as gusts of wind change its direction. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at Miso, who rolls her eyes and looks away, but doesn’t argue. Nodding, Yoongi holds out his hand for the key.

“Thank you. We’ll let you know if we need anything.” He waits until the receptionist is out of earshot before turning to Miso. “It’s just for a few hours.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She stalks in, dropping her bag by the door and shrugging off her jacket.

Yoongi shuts the door behind them and takes off his as well, shaking out his damp hair. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” he says, walking inside. “It’s not like we have…” He trails off as he walks further inside the small room and stops. “Okay, there’s only one bed.”

Miso stops next to him and folds her arms across her chest. “Oh, my God, there’s only one bed.”

—

The sprint from his car to Chaeyoung’s apartment drenches Hoseok to the bone and by the time she opens the door, his teeth are chattering.

“Hoseok? What are you doing here?” Chaeyoung steps aside and ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. It’s dark with minimal light, just as he’d expected. “Jesus, did you drive? That’s so dangerous, oppa - there’s a storm outside!”

“I know,” he replies, still shivering as he tries to drink in the warm and dry interior of the apartment. Compared to his woolen hoodie and thick jeans - all of which are wet now - she’s dressed far more freely in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her feet tucked in a pair of furry blue house slippers. “I heard the power was out in this area. I called you - but you didn’t answer,” he points out, trying to keep his limbs from shaking. “And I got worried. Why the damn hell didn’t you answer?”

“My phone is out of charge.”

“Then why didn’t you charge it?”

“Because there’s no power!” Chaeyoung frowns and tilts her head. “Seriously, is that why you came all the way here? Because I didn’t answer my phone?” When Hoseok opts not to answer, partly feeling silly and partly because he doesn’t want her to hear his teeth chatter, she sighs. “You’re crazy, oppa.”

“Yeah, you know what? You seem totally fine so this was just - like, a false alarm. I’ll head out now,” he says quickly, turning to leave when she grabs his arm.

“Whoa, no way. I’m going to get you a towel. Hang on.”

She disappears inside and Hoseok steps further into the small apartment, now allowing himself to shiver a bit more visibly. He takes off the wet hoodie and that’s when he notices her living room, lit up with a dozen suns. Just beyond the couch and television area, between the closed balcony and the dining space, is a mattress on the floor and at least ten to fifteen candles in various spots around the room, the flames small but bright. There’s music at a low volume playing from somewhere, sounding like Taylor Swift.

“Okay, here.” Chaeyoung steps out of the tiny laundry room with a stack of clothes in one hand and a towel in the other. “You can dry off and take a shower if you want. And these I presume are Jimin’s,” she explains, handing him the clothes. “It’s just a t-shirt and tracks because unfortunately, I couldn’t find boxers. Not that I looked,” she adds quickly.

“Not that I would wear another guy’s boxers,” he mutters. “Er, thanks. Should I…” He waits for her to point to the bathroom before ducking inside. Like most things Chaeyoung suggests, she’s right about the shower. After peeling off his cold, wet clothes and feeling the hot water against his skin, he feels reborn as he throws on Jimin’s borrowed stuff and traipses back out into the living room.

“Tea?” Chaeyoung asks as soon as Hoseok steps out and because he is taken by surprise, he nods and gratefully accepts a cup of steaming green tea. He notices her outfit a little more closely this time. Unlike her usual outfits which seem carefully styled and perfectly coordinated, all the way down to her shoes and accessories, she seems almost bare without it all. He reminds himself that this is likely what is underneath all that - this is simply the first time he’s seeing it.

“How come your phone’s out of charge?” he asks, taking a sip and feeling the heat start to return to his bloodstream. “Where’s your power bank?”

“I lost it,” she admits sheepishly, sitting on the edge of the mattress and tucking her knees under her chin. “I think I left it on the bus a couple weeks ago.”

Hoseok half-chuckles and takes another sip of the tea, looking around the room again. He realises now that some of the candles must be scented; he catches a whiff of lavender and inhales it, the storm outside becoming a distant memory.

“Feeling better? The tea,” she says, pointing to his cup when he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh. Yeah, actually. Thanks.” He gestures to the room. “You’ve got a hell of a set up here, huh?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “I guess. I figured it would be a good night to stay in but then the power went out and… well, my room got pretty dark and there’s this branch outside that looks like a hand which just freaked me out.” She shudders. “So I got my stuff out here. The apartment feels less empty this way.”

Hoseok nods, spotting the pillows neatly set up at one end by the balcony, a soft purple blanket folded at the other. There is another half-finished cup of tea on the floor next to the blanket, along with her tablet which is open on Spotify, a flashlight, a book and what looks like a knitting project next to it.

“Oh, that’s a new hobby,” says Chaeyoung, following his gaze while he takes a seat next to her. “I didn’t think crocheting would be fun but I have to say, it kind of grows on you. Check it out,” she adds excitedly, leaning over him across the mattress to pick up a little figurine he hadn’t noticed. “My first finished project,” she declares, holding up what looks like a crocheted bear, a little smaller than the palm of his hand.

“You made this? Caterpillar, this isn’t half-bad,” he says, impressed. “I like the tail. Except… oh, I think its eye is a little loose…” He holds it out so she can look at it, amused when she groans. “It’s okay, he looks kind of cool. Like a pirate bear.”

She grins. “Yeah? Is that a thing?”

“Sure. Anything or anyone can be a pirate. Doesn’t even have to be about the eye, although that’s a bonus.”

“Pirate vibes,” she offers.

“There you go.” He goes to hand it back to her but she shakes her head.

“Keep it. I mean, if you want.” She gestures to the half-made crochet project still on the needles. “I have a lot more where that came from and the last thing I want to do is become a crazy lady surrounded by her creepy crochet animals.”

“This isn’t creepy,” he argues, tucking it into the pocket of Jimin’s tracks.

“Yeah, because it’s just one and not an army.” Chaeyoung exhales and stretches her legs out in front of her, her long hair falling down one of her shoulders. She looks warm and dry and cozy, especially surrounded by the clean cotton and soft candlelight, but he thinks he catches a bite in her tone.

“How’s Sooah? Was she excited about tonight?”

“Not sure. The last time I spoke to Sooah was…” She checks an imaginary watch on her wrist. “Six days ago.”

Hoseok frowns. “What?”

“Well, unless you count a cursory hi or a good night or do we have any milk left? Otherwise, it’s pretty much a lot of texts from her telling me she’s staying over at Jimin’s so not to wait up.” She bites her lip. “Sorry. I probably sound really bitter.”

“Not bitter,” he says reassuringly. “Maybe a little resentful. It’s understandable, though.”

“I’m happy for her,” she admits in a low voice. “And Jimin. They’re cute and - and she’s in love. It’s great. But… it’s kind of come to my attention that Sooah is my only friend in this city. And when she’s away…” Chaeyoung sighs heavily, looking slightly embarrassed. “It gets kind of… lonely. Which is my fault, not hers, I guess.”

Hoseok stares at her, waiting for her to look at him and raising his eyebrows when she does.

“What?”

“Well, not to be dramatic or anything, but I would say that a person who drove across the city in a storm because you didn’t answer his calls could be counted as a friend, too.”

Chaeyoung’s cheeks go slightly pink and her eyes widen slightly, before she laughs. “You’re definitely my friend, too, oppa,” she says, leaning over and hugging him. “I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hoseok rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling, too. She smells of lilies and he shifts slightly closer to her. “I get it, though. Namjoon was that way a little bit in the beginning, when he started dating his girlfriend. She didn’t live here, though, so it wasn’t as bad, but… it’s a tough change.”

“I guess. You know, I’m trying really hard to shut up that tiny paranoid voice in my brain that’s insisting that Sooah was just pretending to be my friend until she found a more worthwhile person to be with. I know it’s ridiculous,” she says quickly, rolling her eyes. “I don’t actually believe it.”

“Good. Don’t. It’s just the honeymoon period,” he says, setting his cup down and leaning back on his hands. “And if you think she’s slipping away, you’re allowed to ask her for one on one time, you know? Friends have a right to ask that of each other, within reason.”

Chaeyoung looks doubtful, but also hopeful. Her eyes are wide and doe-like and Hoseok has to repress the urge to brush his thumb against her cheekbone.

“Maybe I will.” She nods and holds his gaze for a few seconds. “So, uh…” She clears her throat. “Did you really drive across the city in the storm just to check up on me?”

Hoseok doesn’t look away. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, but the pink tinge returns to her cheeks. “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, if I’d known you’d prepared this well for it, I probably wouldn’t have.” He pauses. “But I’m kind of glad I didn’t.”

This time there’s no mistaking it; she’s definitely blushing.

“In fact, uh… I was a little unsure,” he admits after a moment, looking at his feet. “I mean… maybe I’ve been imagining it, but…” He looks up at her again, searching. “Have you been avoiding me lately?”

Chaeyoung blinks. “I - of course not. Why would you think I was?”

Hoseok’s mind flits through the abrupt texts and strange excuses he’s heard over the last few weeks. “I don’t know. Just felt like maybe you were.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Okay.” He nods, sensing a slightly defensive tone but unable to be sure. “But… hypothetically if you were,” he ventures, “and hypothetically if it was because of something I did… I’m sorry. For whatever I did, hypothetically.”

Chaeyoung bites her lip, not quite meeting his eyes. “You didn’t do anything. Hypothetically, if I were avoiding you,” she adds. “Which I wasn’t, so…”

“Mhm.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made a sound! You don’t believe me,” she accuses him, scowling dramatically.

“Yeah, because you’re a terrible liar. You always have been.”

She swats him on the shoulder and he mock-gasps, grinning when she huffs and stands up. “To think I gave you my debut crocheted stuffed toy. I’m going to make the next one so much cooler, believe me,” she declares, picking up the needles on the ground.

“If it has two intact eyes, at the very least. Oh, come on, that was a joke,” he implores, laughing and lightly grabbing her ankle as she starts to walk away and sits a few inches away in the centre of the mattress. “I love the bear. I am sorry I barged in on your night, though,” he adds honestly.

“Oh, don’t be. I’m happy you did,” she admits, and the pink tinge returns to her cheeks as she looks down at her lap. Hoseok’s heart skips a beat, trying to think of anything and everything else he can say that can keep those faint pink spots from disappearing.

He turns properly to face her and is about to say something, when he spots a writing pad he hadn’t noticed next to her tablet. “What’s this?”

“Oh -“ Chaeyoung reaches over and snatches it out of his grasp, hiding it behind her back.

Hoseok, still reeling, looks up in confusion. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -“

“No, it’s fine,” she mutters, shaking her head and waving him off, apparently a little embarrassed at her reaction. “It’s just… notes. Work stuff.”

“You got that defensive over work stuff?”

She gives him a look and he thinks she’s about to respond smartly, but instead she sighs. “Okay, I’ve been dying to tell someone, I guess… I kind of want to ask my boss if I can transfer to the creative team. You know, the one that actually works on the themes and end-to-end campaigns? Well, there’s a spot open there and all those teams are under my boss…”

“But?”

“But it’s a higher designation. So I’m essentially asking for a promotion,” she finishes. Her shoulders deflate slightly. “It’s a long shot, but… God, I really think I can do well there, you know? I have the ideas, I’ve worked on a couple of projects with the creative team, too. My entire internship during college was with a team like that.”

Hoseok leans forward. “So what’s stopping you?”

She looks at him like it’s obvious. “I mean… I have to actually ask for it. It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it’s not easy,” he agrees, his voice gentler now. “But you’ll never get it if you don’t ask. Are those notes for that conversation?”

Chaeyoung nods. She visibly hesitates, but then passes the writing pad to him.

Hoseok shakes his head, though. “I don’t need to see it. But if you want, you can practice with me. I’ve had my share of experience asking for things. And getting rejected a fair few times, too.”

She looks doubtful, but she sits a little straighter. “Really?” Her brows furrow slightly. “You won’t make fun of me?”

“Never.” He gives her knee an encouraging squeeze. “Go on.”

Chaeyoung nods and sits up on her knees, resting her hips down on her heels. She holds the pad up and begins a clearly rehearsed speech, occasionally looking up at Hoseok for his reaction. He nods as she goes along, giving her his feedback only when she stops and asks for it.

It’s probably the longest conversation they’ve had in months and it’s only towards the end, as Chaeyoung gets more confident and has added another half a page worth of notes to her original set, that he realises how terribly he’s missed her.

“You’re a lot more talented than you think you are,” he remarks when she sets the writing pad to the side, looking far more at ease than before. “Any team would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” she says gratefully. “I was just spiralling a bit, I guess. Especially because I was going crazy just keeping it to myself. Are you hungry?” she asks suddenly. “I managed to store just enough hot water in my thermos when the power outage warnings started.”

Marvelling at her ability to plan, far better than he or any of his friends did, he nods wordlessly. They devour a cup of instant ramen each while they chat, and then split a brownie she’d baked earlier in the day.

“Damn it, this is really good.” Hoseok takes another bite, the chocolatey goodness melting in his mouth. “You really baked this this morning?”

“I told you, I’m pretty bored these days. And my fingers started cramping after the first hour of crocheting, so I thought I needed a change,” she jokes, popping a piece into her mouth.

Hoseok chuckles and helps himself to some more, watching as she does the same. The candlelight makes her skin look like silk, throwing the softest shadows around the contours of her face. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her eyes widen and he immediately yanks his hand back. “Sorry, there was, uh… cake. On your… yeah.”

“Oh.” She brushes her face a couple of times. “Did I get it?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. Wanting to avoid catching her eye, he looks at the balcony doors behind her. The rain is still pouring heavily, streaks of lightning appearing in the sky, trees blowing in the wind and making it seem like a horror movie out there. Inside, it’s warm and lit and dry, just their voices and soft music in the background.

Hoseok doesn’t want to leave. He hopes she won’t ask him to; even if she denied avoiding him, he wasn’t fooled. But whatever it was that made her avoid him, she seems to have let it go for now - or she’s just too nice to ask him to go back home in the storm. Whatever it is, he’s glad. It’s never been like this before; she’s never opened up to him this much, this easily, this… readily. He feels like he’s seeing someone else - or it’s the same girl he’s always known, but it’s a side of her that hasn’t come out around him.

“Are you planning to sleep out here tonight?” he asks, patting the mattress and leaning back against the side of the sofa.

“Yeah, I was. I figured Sooah would sleep over at Jimin’s again so I’d have to literally weather the storm myself.”

She tries to play it off as a joke, but Hoseok spots the corners of her mouth turning down. “Dude, I know she’s got a boyfriend but trust me, okay? Just ask her to lunch or say it’s a girls’ night or something. She’s not going to turn you down.”

“Oh, she won’t turn me down,” agrees Chaeyoung. “But a girls’ night will just turn into a girls’ night, plus Jimin.”

“Call me the next time that happens. I’ll kick his arse.”

That makes her laugh. “I’m sorry, oppa, I can’t picture you kicking anyone’s arse. And I like Jimin,” she adds with a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s sweet, always comes with booze and his facemask application technique is out of this world. I just… don’t like being left behind,” she confesses.

Her eyes flicker towards Hoseok, lingering before looking away, and it makes him wonder if there’s more to this than she’s letting on. He’s not sure if he wants to ask, though. Her vulnerability feels too delicate to disturb; the last thing he wants to do is cause her to clam up.

“Well…” He searches for something to say. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back working sixteen hours a day again before you know it.”

Chaeyoung frowns. “Why? Didn’t you just finish touring? And I thought you said it’s the first time the company's given you a break after a tour.”

Hoseok’s heart stops for a moment. “Wow, you really do remember a lot of our conversations,” he mutters, mentally slapping himself.

“I do. So why will Jimin be back at work?”

He bites his lip. Chaeyoung looks genuinely curious; compared to the company or his members or anyone else, she seems like the only other person in the world right now.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asks, holding her gaze and waiting until she affirms it out loud. “We… the group… we’re going on a hiatus soon.”

Chaeyoung��s eyes widen. “What?” she asks in a hushed voice. “How - I mean, when? Why?”

“Soon,” he repeats, “and… it just seems like the right time. But listen, Chae - you can’t tell anyone. Okay? This is top secret stuff - even most people in the company don’t know it. Once the Hybe takeover happens and they release some more content under the new label, we’ll probably announce it. But until then, you have to keep it to yourself. No one at work, not Sooah - nobody finds out.”

“I - of course I promise,” she says quickly, looping her little finger around his when he holds it out. “But what do you mean it’s the right time?”

“I mean… we don’t want to do it exactly,” he admits. “We kind of have to, if we want to grow as artists at all. We’re getting pushed into a mould and it’s just not working anymore. Plus we’ll have to start enlisting soon…” His stomach jolts weakly. “We all have so much we want to do. Yoongi wants to tour, Namjoon wants a series of collaborations with artists half of us haven’t heard of, Taehyung wants to have fun, whatever that means,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jungkook -”

“And what do you want?” Chaeyoung asks, interrupting him.

Hoseok doesn’t answer immediately. The answer has been noodling around in his mind for years now; first as a pipedream, then as a personal goal, and more recently, as a scary but real possibility if things worked out right. Now, it’s at the tip of his tongue, ready to be said out loud for the first time ever.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “Just… don’t laugh, okay?”

“What?” She scoffs. “Hobi, I just roleplayed a scenario with you where I asked for a promotion at work. Of course I won’t laugh.”

He nods. “I want to headline a music festival,” he says. “Like Coachella or something. I fucking love concerts,” he confesses, feeling his chest expand at the realisation that he’s finally saying it. “I love the preparation, the rehearsals, the costumes, the high on stage, the audience singing along. I’ve done tons of them with the group but I want to do one myself. Just to see what it would be like.” Just to see if I can.

Chaeyoung is starting to smile, and it makes Hoseok nervous. “Maybe it’s stupid,” he says hurriedly. “It’s stupid - just forget I said anything at all. It’s just a -”

“Oppa.” She interrupts him again, this time accompanied by a light slap on the shoulder. “If you score me a ticket to this festival, I’ll scrounge up enough cash to fly out there myself and watch you,” she says. “It’s not stupid.”

Hoseok regards her suspiciously. “It’s not stupid?” he asks, uncertain.

“It’s not,” she confirms. “In fact,” she continues, getting on her knees and leaning across from him to reach for her glass of water, “it sounds pretty on brand for you.”

“That’s - no, come on,” he stutters, feeling his face turn hot - and suddenly aware that he isn’t wearing anything under his joggers.

“I’m serious. I know you probably didn’t think you’d actually find success with BTS at first, but believe me - where you are now is exactly how I pictured you’d end up when you left Gwangju.”

He considers this. It had been a big decision, especially for his parents to balance their anxiety and desire to support him. His sister had given him some rare, sisterly advice at a time when she’d started building her own life, Chanyeol had called their classmates over for a farewell party, while young Chaeyoung had been a extra in his life - part of the extended family circle, but only by her association to the Kang family.

Confessing his secret lifelong dream to her hadn’t been on Hoseok’s bingo card. But there’s no one he trusts more at the moment, and possibly very few others he would drive through a storm for.

“Just let me know which festival and when,” she says after a moment, tone slightly teasing. “I’ll crochet a new, two-eyed bear for you.”

He nods. “That’s a long time to be crocheting. How did you get into it, anyway?”

Chaeyoung shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “It was a gift from… from my stepmom.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond immediately. She looks up at him, and he leans forward and kisses her. The rain is just in the background now, like the candles, the music - everything except Chaeyoung.

Her hair smells sweet and her lips are soft; it’s exactly how he’d imagined it would be. The last time they had kissed had been over in a flash, too quick for him to appreciate every single physical aspect of it. He had been too consumed by the fact that it had happened at all, but it’s so fitting right now, as though every single thing that happened today was leading to this moment right here.

Chaeyoung kisses him back; if his hunch is correct, if the racing in his stomach is indicative of anything, it’s that she probably wants this as much as he does. He feels her fingers in his hair and her nails light against his scalp; he moves his hand from her face down her arm and reaches for her hand. He feels her move; a moment later, she’s climbing onto his lap.

Hoseok is afraid for a moment that she will feel just how much he’s wanted this and how long he’s wanted this but before he can think it through, he has her in his arms and the thought leaves his mind instantly, along with every other thought. His hands are at her hips and he’s so aware that it’s Chaeyoung, young and lifelong family friend Chaeyoung, that he stops them from moving any lower. It’s difficult, though; he tugs at the ends of her t-shirt and it’s harder to resist it this time. He moves his hands under the cloth, feeling the waistband of her shorts, her slender waist and the light indents of her ribs.

“Chae,” he murmurs against her lips, somewhere hearing her name sound on his tongue like it never has before. She hums in response but doesn’t move away. “Are you… are you a virgin?”

There’s a pause and Hoseok freezes, terrified he’s ruined the mood. Then she snorts and shakes her head. “No, Hoseok, I’m not.” She pulls away slightly and slips off her t-shirt, revealing a faded grey sports bra with thin straps disappearing over her shoulders in an X. “Don’t worry,” she assures him, tilting her head and kissing him again.

He doesn’t stop her; he can’t imagine ever wanting to. There’s a lot more skin now, soft and smooth; his lips glide over sections of it, the side of her neck, her collarbones, the base of her throat. Somewhere during it he gets his t-shirt out of the way and feels himself pulsate in his tracks and knows there’s no ignoring it longer, especially now that he thinks he knows where this is going.

“Chae.” Reluctantly, he pulls away again. At the sight of her swollen lips, flushed face and particularly her somewhat exasperated expression, he almost forgets what he was going to say. “Listen, I… this is…”

“Do you want to stop?” Her voice is even, but there’s a hint of disappointment he doesn’t miss.

“No,” he says immediately. “The… opposite. I just think I need to tell you…” He swallows, finding it hard to think straight amidst her raised eyebrows and her hand absently resting on his chest. “Um, so when this happens, when I - when I do… something like this… I tend to get kind of… carried away.” He swallows and waits for her to react, painfully conscious of her warm crotch against his, the hem of her shorts having ridden up all the way.

It seems to take Chaeyoung a few seconds to work out what he means. “Carried away?” she repeats. When he nods, she bites her lip and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he spots a hint of shyness. She bites her lip and her cheeks redden slightly, but she nods, tossing her tousled hair back and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Gotcha,” she mutters, and this time he kisses her.

The last time Hoseok had hooked up with a girl was almost a year ago. He’d been recording a song in Los Angeles and met her at a party and despite the fact that they didn’t have much to talk about, they’d carried on a casual fling for the three days that he’d been there, during which time she had remarked with some admiration that he had “the stamina and determination of an athlete”.

She hadn’t been the only girl to say this to him in his life, and Hoseok had gathered that this was just something he brought to the bedroom and probably didn’t need to apologise for it. He wouldn’t have actively warned anyone else, but Chaeyoung didn’t feel like just anyone. She knows now, though, and despite the fact that he would’ve thought she’d be the last person to ever know this about him, finally telling her, seeing her blush at his admission and her clear desire to keep going, lets loose what he’s been suppressing around her for a while now.

Deciding that Jimin would probably not want these track pants back, Hoseok pulls her closer to him before leaning forward and easing her onto her back. Her head hits the pillow and she looks momentarily surprised at the impact but Hoseok kisses her again and she responds instantly. She sighs against his mouth and he hardens, feeling it against the inside of her thigh, where she bends her leg at the knee and pushes her hips up to meet his.

One hand stays on the mattress to support him and the other runs down her body, past her waist and around her hips to stop between her legs. She’s warm through her shorts; the thought of what’s in there makes his cock throb and he palms her and squeezes. Her surprised moan fills the room and he pulls away from her mouth abruptly, reaching up to take off her shorts. The mismatched black panties make his erection even more apparent and he drops down to her body, kissing her sternum, her willowy ribcage, the smooth skin of her abdomen down to the elastic of her underwear where, without hesitation, he slips it down her legs.

Hoseok glances up at her from between her legs, just in case he’s misreading anything, but the sight of her arched back, her closed eyes and long hair splayed on the white pillow wipe any and all doubts from his mind.

Chaeyoung tastes incredible. Hoseok takes his time going down on her, starting with his lips on her thighs, exploring every single fold with his tongue before reaching her clit. It dulls his senses and heightens his desire at the same time, reeling him in as he holds her legs open, devouring her and welcoming the taste, the only other sensations being her fingers in his hair and her sweet, sweet voice moaning his name.

He knows when she’s about to cum; he pulls his hips to her face, hearing her gasp in between the sounds that are reaching higher and higher in pitch and frequency. She clutches at his hair just as she climaxes, her warm wetness filling his mouth and her legs trembling slightly as he sets them down. He sits up slowly, wiping his mouth with one hand while the other absently strokes her thigh, watching as her chest rises and falls in the aftermath of her orgasm, the orgasm he just gave her, and feels his heart jolt.

Hoseok crawls to her side to lie beside her, using his elbow for support and resting his head on his palm as he waits, patiently, for her to open her eyes. When she finally does, they’re slightly unfocused as they find him. He says nothing, but simply brushes her bangs out of her eyes.

“Wow,” she says softly. “I’m really glad I left my power bank on the bus.”

Hoseok chuckles and a moment later, both of them laugh.

—

It’s very nearly dawn - probably.

The sky is dark outside and the sound of the rain outside is calming. The city is sprawled underneath them and the moon is the only source of light in their hotel room, the massive windows illuminating the bed, the rumpled sheets and Kaya’s naked body straddling his.

In the three years or so they’ve been together, their intimacy has never been a source of conflict or stress. It’s only ever been the opposite; whether it was distance or work or disagreements, the thought of her skin on his and her mouth on his body reduced triggered the most primal form of attraction, despite the cerebral aspect of their relationship he prided himself on so much.

Sometimes she is under him: he loves the sight of her underneath his body, encased and safe, for his view only as he thrusts into her. Sometimes her back is to him and he pulls her in, feeling sensations and strength as their hips meet with force; sometimes it is against a wall or a table and she wraps her legs around his waist as they struggle to stay quiet, only their silent gasps mingling as he fucks her into a wall.

But nothing - nothing - compares to when she rides him.

He doesn’t know what it is - maybe it’s the visual of her entire body up there on display for him, her long hair falling down one shoulder as she rolls her hips into his, eyes closed and neck tilted up. Maybe it’s the way her back arches when she hits a sweet spot, and her head falls back as she moans, or maybe it’s the sight of her taking charge, speeding up and slowing down as she wishes, edging him until he’s compelled to grab her hips and take matters into his own hands.

They shouldn’t have maintained any hopes of getting any sleep tonight, not in the last precious hours of their trip before the morning arrives and after three amazing weeks, they have to part again. Even though they’d fallen asleep for a bit, it hadn’t been long before he’d been awoken by her tugging at his arm, waking him up to make love on their last night together, just as they’d done throughout the holiday.

Namjoon had lost count of the number of times they’d had sex by the third day of their trip. It had been impossible to stay away, to keep his hands off her, to resist her advances even if they appeared in semi-public. Throughout the trip - and possibly their entire relationship - those urgent sex sessions that began with filthy words and roaming hands in public and culminated in desperate and earth-shattering sex in private, dominated.

She’s so beautiful. His eyes roam her naked body, committing it to memory until the next time they see each other, knowing it’s what will keep him going until they do. He moves one of his hands up her waist and to her chest, stopping underneath her breast before lightly brushing her nipple with his thumb. She bites her lip and moans softly, when a buzzing sound interrupts them.

Her frown deepens and the erotic sounds change as she groans in annoyance. Namjoon clicks his tongue and turns to look at his phone on the bedside table; the screen lights up and Hoseok’s name flashes on the incoming call. He reaches over and declines the call, just as he’d done the last time Hoseok had called five minutes ago.

The call ends and Namjoon catches a glimpse of a trail of messages left by his friend, none of them particularly coherent, but Namjoon can’t begin to decipher them right now. In the last six hours, every single one of his members had called him at least once, all coincidentally during moments when he couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. They’d tried to leave him alone for most of the trip but apparently, they couldn’t keep it going for long.

A movement distracts him and he looks up to see Kaya sweeping her hair off her neck, her skin sweaty and glowing. All thoughts of his members clean out of his mind, he sits up and wraps his arm around her waist to flip them over.

—

The rain is deafening as Nari stares at him in silence. Seokjin’s eyes fall again to the papers in her hand and the thick socks on her feet, hoping she will respond soon.

“Seokjin,” she says slowly, “it’s not my birthday. My birthday is in -”

“May, I know.” His heart stutters slightly as he realises for the first time that coming here might have been somewhat stupid. “But we weren’t exactly on the best terms in May and I was on tour anyway… so today is kind of the next best thing.”

Nari frowns for a moment before it dawns on her. Her forehead clears and she starts to smile, pursing her lips in amusement. “Of course it is,” she agrees, nodding.

Massively relieved, Seokjin smiles back. “I’ll rephrase: happy half-birthday, Nari.”

She laughs. “Thanks. You did wish me over text, so it’s not like you forgot.”

“No, but an in-person wish is the bare minimum. I tried my best to make it here before midnight but the streets are fairly empty. I thought they’d be jammed all the way to Hongdae.”

“Yeah. Wait - you drove in this?” Her eyes widen and she glances at the window behind him. “Are you kidding? Is that why you’re wet?”

“Kinda - I had to run from my car to your building because there’s a pothole open right… there,” he answers, opening the window wider and pointing to where he’d left his car. Nari comes up next to him to look at it, resting her hand with the papers on the wall.

Unfortunately at that exact moment, a strong gust of wind blows through the street, making them flinch away and cover their faces, and a few of the sheets in her hand fly out of the window.

“No!” Nari shouts in panic, reaching for them as though hoping they will fly back to her.

“Shit, that was - wait, what the hell are you doing?” Seokjin watches in confusion as she darts back into her apartment and out of it in a second, her feet in slippers, and dashes down the corridor. “Nari!” He hurries after her as she runs down the stairs and out into the street, splashing in the direction of the papers.

“No, no, no…” She shakes her head and looks around wildly, wiping her wet hair off her face. She whips around to face him, blinking through the rain. “Help me look for them!” she yells.

“What are you talking about? Nari, they’re gone!” Seokjin yells back, still at the doorway of the building. When she doesn’t respond, however, stepping further into the puddles, he runs out after her. “Nari, you’re going to fall sick!” he says loudly over the rain as he reaches her, grabbing her arm and trying to tug her back.

“I can’t! Those were my notes from a medical seminar about a groundbreaking clinical trial!” she cries, still looking around. “I need them for my application to be a part of the research - and now they’re gone!” To his surprise, she turns around and hits him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Just print out another copy!” he yells back, rubbing his shoulder.

“They’re handwritten, you idiot!”

“What? You wrote notes in this day and age?” He asks incredulously. “What happened to the Macbook I got you for Christmas two years ago?”

“You know that typing distracts me while I take notes,” she reminds him, glaring as her wet hair sticks to her face. “What am I going to do?”

“What about your friends? Can’t you borrow their notes?”

“I - mine were colour coded with different highlighters!” she argues, but she takes a step back. “But… yeah, I guess I could. Damn it, Kimbap!” She slaps him on the arm again, but it’s lighter this time.

“Hey!” He reaches over and shoves her shoulder. “It’s not my fault!”

“Of course it is!” she retorts, shoving him back.

“I came here to wish you a happy half-birthday because I missed your real one,” he points out, the rain starting to blur his vision. “And you gave me a lot of grief for it in middle school, in case you don’t remember.”

“I - that was - that was so different,” she stutters, before her shoulders fall. “But kind of accurate,” she mutters.

Seokjin scoffs, placing his hands on his hips. “You really thought you were going to find your notes floating around in the sky? The ink must be smudged beyond comprehension!”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans. “I worked really hard on that. And now we’re probably going to get hypothermia!”

He shrugs uncertainly, looking around the deserted street, the branches of the trees swaying and rivulets of water flowing down the street. Clearly there were kids playing on the street before the real downpour began, for a football, a couple of tennis balls, and a pair of what look like water guns have been abandoned on the pavement in front of the building.

“Didn’t you have one of those?” he asks, pointing to the guns.

Nari turns and her annoyed expression instantly fades. “Oh, yeah,” she says, chuckling. “I got it right after Eunbi’s birthday party where her parents took us all out to that water park. And, no, I didn’t forget,” she adds quickly, holding her hand up to him, “that you’re the one who got it for me.”

Seokjin nods in satisfaction. “I did - I had to save up for, like, four months for that. Was it your fifteenth?”

“Fourteenth.” She eyes the guns before looking back up at him. “We’re both thinking the same thing, right?”

“If we aren’t, then one of us is an imposter.”

She laughs and they sprint for the guns at the same time, grabbing one each and immediately filling it with water from the puddles on the road. Seokjin reaches them first but waits for Nari to shoot him first, feeling it hit his shoulder as she cackles, and proceeding to return the favour. It’s a complete one-eighty from when they’d run out of the building five minutes ago, in a state of confusion and disarray, only to be using water guns for the first time in over a decade while the city of Seoul drowns in the rain.

“Ugh - that one was right in the face, Nari!” He shouts after a bit, wiping his eyes as she hoots in the background. “That’s not fair!”

“I have better aim than you - just accept it, Kimbap,” she crows, coming over and peering at him from a distance. “You’re fine. Now come on!”

“I think you just blinded me, you ghoul,” he accuses her, blinking rapidly. When she comes closer, frowning slightly, he raises his gun and shoots her right on the college logo in the middle of her sweatshirt.

Nari gasps. “That’s - I’m going to get you for that, I swear to God!” They resume play, splashing through the puddles and laughing whenever they get in a good shot, until she aims at him and pulls the trigger, only for nothing to come out.

“Oh, shit - okay, hold it! I’ve been compromised!” she declares, checking her gun frantically as Seokjin narrows his eyes, wondering if it’s a tactic.

She looks up, panting slightly. “Okay, I think I may have broken some kid’s water gun.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” She nods, jogging over to the pavement and dropping the gun where they found it. “Shit! I’m going to have to buy this kid another one, aren’t I?”

“I - probably!” Seokjin joins her and places his gun neatly next to it. “I don’t know. Do you even know whose it is?”

“Not really.” She swallows and looks up at him, wiping her hair out of her eyes again. “Or… I don’t know - who leaves their shit outside like this instead of taking it home? Anything could have happened to it!”

“You’re right,” he says. “Anything could have happened to it!”

She raises her eyebrows at his tone, which he returns with an incorrect shrug. A smile spreads across her face and she shakes her head. “I guess that’s true!”

Seokjin winks at her conspiratorially and she laughs, raising her hand. She presumably intends it to be a high-five and he obliges, but somewhere along the way, in the rain and wet sweatshirts and water ricocheting off every surface, they reach for each other and meet in a kiss.

Something explodes in Seokjin’s stomach and the aftershocks continue even after it’s gone. It’s a new sensation, with the water and the cold and the entirely unexpected nature of how it occurred, but before he can wrap his head around it, she pulls away.

The rain pours around them, a ridiculous secret about water guns in the middle, but now that the guns are gone and so are her notes and it’s just them remaining, the cracks start to form.

“Shit,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her head.

Seokjin doesn’t saything, the bursts in his stomach now dwindling away to form a knot that feels uncomfortably like guilt. “I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely, taking a step back but she shakes her head.

“It’s not right,” she states, her voice trembling slightly. “You have a girlfriend and I have… it’s not right,” she repeats, swallowing and looking up at him, seemingly with some effort.

There’s nothing more to say. Seokjin feels a dangerous lump in his throat, the impending complications looming before him. “I’m going to go,” he says, turning around and feeling defeated.

“Seokjin.” Nari tugs at his sleeve. “Just… hypothermia.”

“Come again?”

“You’ll get hypothermia.” Nari opens her mouth to say something else but then closes it. A moment later, she gestures to the building. “You need to towel dry your hair, and drink something warm. And… at least put on a dry hoodie before you leave.”

He’s about to decline; he wants to get out of here, suddenly be as far away from here as possible before his mind goes into overdrive. But his fingers are frozen - he may not even be able to grip the steering wheel properly. Plus… Nari is asking. She’s really asking, meaning what she says and after a moment, Seokjin nods.

Apparently convinced that he’s listening to her, she beckons to him and they walk back into the building together.

—

Yoongi can’t believe how this night is turning out. He’d pictured it so differently: prepping for the meeting in the morning, calming his nerves during the drive from Seoul to Incheon, finishing the meeting and hopefully securing the investment he needed, having the rest of the evening to himself.

Most of all, for once, he and Miso would get a few hours outside of the office and away from the Seoul elite. Her father is abroad for work and it shows; she’s far less on edge and the fact that Seungkwan hasn’t paraglided onto the doorstep of their motel room to whisk her back to her prison is proof of that.

Taking her on a date seemed like an alien concept, in those words, at least. He didn’t know if that was actually something he wanted and he definitely couldn’t imagine her ever agreeing to one either. But he reckoned that even just a day away, seeing her with her guard down, actually spending time with her, hooking up in his car before he dropped her seemed like something to look forward to.

That’s what he reckoned.

“What is wrong with you that you can’t see how fucked up it is that you don’t care what the outcome of your behavior is?” he demands, standing by the edge of the bed, next to the bathroom door.

“My behaviour? You know what - I’m sorry, Yoongi,” she snaps. She’s at the other end of the tiny room by the window, the curtains blow in the wind entering through the cracks, brushing her arm. “I’m so sorry that I ruined your precious meeting that no one senior from the company couldn’t even be bothered to make it.”

“It’s for my tour!” he bursts, livid now - and frustrated, because while he’s admitted why it matters so much to him, it’s a coin toss to see whether she will care. “I’m going on tour next year so yeah, I’m the one that needs to secure the investment!”

“If you’re going on tour, you’re still doing it for the company!” Miso points out with irritating condescension. “You’ll be making them money and losing sleep and working yourself to death - and they couldn’t be bothered to have someone from management come with you?”

“I chose you,” he says bitterly, shaking his head and turning away. “The board suggested it and I pushed for it. And now I’m starting to regret it.”

“Why wouldn’t you? Just a proof of concept, right?” she sneers, although it lacks its usual bite. She folds her arms. “All I had to do was sit there and shut up and let my last name do all the work. No wonder you chose me.”

Yoongi sinks onto the chair next to him and drops his head into his hands, tired. There’s no explaining this to her; it’s too complicated. He would have to reveal things he’s barely acknowledged himself, only for her to get defensive and throw it back at him.

He struggles but forces himself to recall how she’d switched teams and taken her name off a record for him, ages ago. Where is she, though? Her disdain for the company and its dependence on her father’s money is expected, but he can’t fathom why she wouldn’t care that she’s sabotaged his future, too.

“You’re not a proof of concept,” he says hoarsely, trying again. “I shouldn’t have said you were.” He looks up at her hopefully, only to see her face still and stony. “And I get it - I get that you thought you were trying to defend me, but -“ He shakes his head. “God, Miso, all he did was act aloof and say that rap doesn’t sound like real music to him - which a lot of people think,” he adds quickly. “I don’t agree but who cares what he thinks? You insulted him and his business to his face and just be honest, alright? You did that because you knew he couldn’t touch you, because he knows who your father is.”

A dark shadow passes across her face. “I promise you, my father is not who I was thinking of at that moment,” she says coldly.

“No, but you were able to say all that because you knew you’d get away with it,” he presses. “You’ve never had to face a single consequence in your life so you just -“

“Fuck me - you don’t think I’ve face consequences?” she interrupts furiously. “You wouldn’t last one fucking week in my life, Min Yoongi,” she spits, pointing a finger at him. “You and your self-righteous bullshit would be crushed under my father’s shoe, believe me.”

“But you’re still there, aren’t you?” Yoongi retorts, standing up and shrugging. “If you’re facing all these consequences then why aren’t you - God, Miso, why don’t you just leave?” he asks, and his voice cracks on the last word.

He knows she’s heard it, too, because she doesn’t respond immediately. He retreats; it’s a thought he’s managed not to say out loud to her so far, despite wondering about it constantly, because there’s no telling how much he would be prying. Going to find out now, I suppose, he thinks grimly.

“That’s - it’s complicated,” she mutters, turning away from him.

“What is complicated?”

“It’s not as easy as just packing up and leaving,” she snaps. “There’s a lot more in the picture.”

“What are you talking about? You’re twenty-nine - most people your age are living alone,” he points out, frowning incredulously. “You must have savings, don’t you? Just - just find an apartment and leave. Or - or you can stay with me until you find something, but at least try -”

Yoongi breaks off when she takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, suddenly feeling like a child explaining things to an adult. It makes him fume.

“You know,” he starts again, then pauses. “You keep talking about how terrible your life is. Your shiny, perfect life on the outside but behind that, with your narcissistic parents and stalker of a driver who follows you everywhere. But you have to get out of it yourself, Miso. You can take help where you need it but you’re the one who’s going to have to take the first step.”

She scoffs. “Why? Because there are no handouts in the real world?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “You’re clearly unhappy but… why are you still there? In your father’s house, under his thumb? Is it because you’re scared? Because… I don’t know, you think the heir to the Kang empire can’t leave or something?”

Miso’s stance doesn’t change but there’s a flicker in her eyes. Her face relaxes minutely and she exhales again, but this time it isn’t impatience. Yoongi can’t be completely sure, but he thinks it might be relief.

“Oh, my God.” The words come out without thinking. “I’m right? You’re not leaving because you’re the heir to his fortune?” As he says it, Yoongi knows he is right. Her father’s words from the dinner come back to his mind, as does her evasiveness when he’d questioned her about it in his studio.

Something contracts in his ribcage; the air isn’t reaching his lungs fast enough or his lungs aren’t accepting it or… he closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath, feeling his stomach slowly start to loosen, just enough to keep him standing up.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asks, watching how she doesn’t seem caught or surprised. “You’re the heir to his… what did he call it? His legacy? His fortune?”

Miso doesn’t answer immediately, but her eyes shutter over a bit. “I deserve it, don’t you think?” she asks quietly. “After everything he’s put me through?”

“Really? So you’ve been taking his bullshit all these years because you know you’ll get Kang Industries at the end of it? That’s what your freedom is worth?”

“Two hundred billion dollars?” She shrugs, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll take it.”

Yoongi sighs shakily; somewhere, he knows he hasn’t processed this fully, that it will hit him in full force later, what it really means. But for now, he just wants to know.

“Are you serious? After everything you’ve told me about him, every time you’ve looked so scared of him - all of that is worth it because he’s going to give you his company when he retires in twenty years?” He’s bewildered, angry, disappointed. “And you’re just going to keep taking it?”

“He doesn’t have any other children,” she says. “He has no choice. One day, he’s going to have to look me in the eye, sign over his company to me and know that his life’s work is in my hands.”

“Two hundred billion dollars,” he repeats.

“Sounds like a fair deal.” She scoffs again, but there’s no force behind it. “But I’m sure you think it’s money-hungry or egotistical for me to think that.”

“No,” he says. “I think it’s sad.”

She licks her lips and swallows. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she whispers, but her voice trembles. “I’m making the best of my situation, something you will never understand.”

And Yoongi explodes.

“You think I don’t know what making the best of a situation feels like? Are you serious?” he shouts. “I delivered food to people to pay rent! I couldn’t afford the bus, or dinner! I made music using a second hand laptop and knocked on the doors of producers before getting the Big hit audition - an audition!” He glares, panting slightly. “I had to audition for the opportunity to make something of myself - not be born into two hundred million!”

“Are we back to this again? I grew up with money and you didn’t so that makes you a more morally superior person somehow?” she demands.

“No, but it makes you a hypocrite!” he retorts. “All this time, I thought you were different but you’re just like them! You’re a regular old chaebol who’s selling out for the money - except you’re selling away your entire life for it! Can’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“For two hundred billion? You’re right - I am a chaebol,” she states, her cheeks flushing now. “I was born into it and I can’t do anything about it. But that’s how it is, okay? Every single time my father has treated me or my mother or anybody else like crap, it’s been for his company. For his money. And one day, I’m going to be in charge of it.”

“But what about your life? Fucking hell!” Yoongi kicks the edge of the bed in frustration, noting how she flinches very slightly. “Your father’s money, your money - there’s a world outside money, Miso! There’s family, there’s friends and loyalty and - and passion and love - and so much else!”

Miso frowns incredulously, then gives a harsh, derisive laugh. “Family? Friends, love… what - what the hell are you talking about? You sound like a children’s book, Yoongi,” she accuses, scoffing. “My father added a bonus to my trust fund every time I got a good grade - that’s the extent to which we’ve been a family.” She shakes her head but a flash of lightning lights up her face for a moment and even through her glasses, Yoongi is startled to see her eyes wet.

“I get it, but -”

“No, you don’t! Where the hell do you get off acting so high and mighty, huh?” she argues. “You’ve spent this whole evening bitching at me because you didn’t get an investment for your little tour! Isn’t that about money, too?”

“That’s different! That’s for my job, that’s for - it - “ He struggles to articulate it, realising he never thought he would have to. “It’s not a fucking coping mechanism, Miso! Because that’s what you’re doing - you’re using this heir thing to cope with your family’s bullshit!” he points out. “You’ve never even mentioned this to me in two years!”

“Yeah, telling you I’m the heir to my father’s company would’ve worked out great for our relationship,” she snarls, rolling her eyes. “You could’ve added chaebol to the nepo kid crap you kept giving me.”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he says dismissively. “The only time I’ve ever seen you care about anything has been music, when you’re stuck in the studio for hours and hours, eating cold takeout and Diet Coke! You don’t care about the company - that’s just what you’re telling yourself. What - do you go to sleep screaming two hundred billion two hundred billion into your pillow every night?”

“Watch yourself, Min Suga,” she snarls, her eyes flashing.

But Yoongi is too far gone right now. Everything seems unfamiliar and his only defense is offense. “You’re putting up with all this crap - you’re giving up your whole life just so you can inherit your father’s billions! At this rate, you’re probably going to turn out just like him!”

In a flash of a movement, the cordless phone hits the wall next to him and crashes to the ground at his feet.

“Get out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He turns around and wrenches the door open, stepping out and slamming it shut behind him. He needs air - fresh, rainy air and space to breathe. It’s still raining, albeit not as heavily as before, so Yoongi makes his way under the roofed area to the end of the corridor and lights a cigarette, wondering if he should just drive back to Incheon.

The thought disappears as soon as it enters his mind. He smokes in silence, his heart heavy and disappointed, but most of all angry at how he’d never considered this possibility at all.

Or had he? Yoongi struggles to remember. Hadn’t he always had some amount of contempt for her and what she represented? Where had it changed? Was it when he’d started seeing her as a victim of her situation, too - and if had, had he been completely wrong about all of it?

Not all of it, a voice reasons in his mind. Yoongi remembers the bruises on her wrist, her agitation the entire day leading up to the dinner at her house. She hadn’t been faking that. She’d seemed like a cornered animal just now but the brand new realisation he’d made made her seem like a completely different person. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about why that hurts so much that he can’t breathe.

“Uh… sir?”

Yoongi turns tiredly to see the receptionist back at her desk, a dim lamp lighting the small area up. The brilliant green of her earrings match the lone fake plant at the end of the desk.

“You’re not allowed to smoke here.” She points to a sign on the wall.

He pauses but doesn’t get rid of the cigarette immediately. “Why not?” he asks, hearing the defeated, almost-whine in his own voice. “There’s no one here and we’re outdoors…” He doesn’t have the energy to argue further, simply waving his hands to indicate the rest.

The receptionist evidently doesn’t have an answer to this; if anything, she looks just as tired to care. Her eyes fall to the cigarette in his hand, her right hand twitches, and she looks away.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and fishes the pack out of his pocket. “Would you like one?”

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to answer, before abruptly looking around, presumably to see if anyone else is there. She steps out from behind her desk and hesitantly picks out a cigarette, lowering her head in thanks, and taking the lighter he offers.

“Do you live around here?” he asks after a minute, since she continues smoking next to him. He looks around as well at the rain, wondering how anyone is supposed to get the hell out of here.

“I live in Seoul,” she answers. “But I’m working the night shift tonight and also it’s raining…” She trails off.

“You come here every day from Seoul?”

“Yes, there’s a bus.” She pauses. “I like Incheon more but my siblings go to school in Seoul and… well, I heard there are better schools in Seoul.”

He nods, not actually knowing whether that’s true. “Are you from Incheon? Because you don’t sound like it,” he adds, having recognised an accent in some of her words.

“Oh… no. I’m from Daegu, actually.”

She sounds almost ashamed of it, until Yoongi says, “Yeah? So am I.”

Something changes in her face and she smiles a bit, still looking exhausted. “Good to know,” she says, her accent suddenly changing completely to a Daegu one. “My parents still live there. Do you go back home often?” she asks.

“Not as often as I’d like.” He looks up when she tosses the butt of her cigarette on the ground and kicks it off the elevated corridor. When he offers her another, she shakes her head.

“No, thank you.” She gives him a small smile again, the green of her earrings catching a flash of lightning. “Thank you for the smoke. Good night.” As abruptly as she’d appeared, she turns around and disappears into a small room behind the desk labelled “Staff”.

Yoongi lights another one and takes a long drag. It occurs to him suddenly that he should’ve asked for the receptionist’s name, the one from Daegu who’s working a night shift before returning to Seoul in the morning, to the younger siblings she’s clearly the guardian for.

There’s more than a little that’s familiar there. It makes no sense, he reflects with some chagrin, how he’s now found himself so deep in the water with the most unfamiliar of people, a chaebol he met at his work because of a nepotistic hire. His people were like the receptionist, hard workers from the provinces who came to the capital and worked to the bone, doing what they could to take care of their families.

Miso wasn’t his people. He hadn’t ever assumed she was, but this chasm between them, vast and of unfathomable depth, had never seemed this large.

He eventually finishes his cigarette, followed by a third, before he deems it time to go back to the room. He doesn’t want to argue with Miso anymore - he truthfully doesn’t think he can. But it’s late and he’s tired and the small burning hope of a temporary reconciliation fuels his legs to move.

He opens the door quietly. “Miso?” he murmurs, stepping in to see the room dark. The only light is a dim one by the door, just enough for him to see Miso on the bed, right at the edge, curled up and asleep. He doesn’t move for a few moments, wondering how long she’s been asleep or if she even really is.

But she doesn’t move either and finally, Yoongi slips out of his shoes and steps into the room, turning off the light on his way. Only a sliver of moonlight giving him any visual aid at all, he reaches the bed. It’s small, but she’s taken only about a quarter of it.

He reaches over and gently slips off her glasses, folding them and placing them over her body on her bedside table. Then he slips under the covers on his side and closes his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

—

Dilara wakes up to a blue sky and an empty hotel room, in a bed that’s too big for her, and extremely, extremely frustrated.

She has to be out on the track in a few hours, in the cold winds of Austin, Texas in November. But for now she’s in a warm bed under cozy covers, keenly aware that she isn’t wearing pajamas.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why during this weekend in particular it’s so hard to ignore the fact that she’s alone, without Taehyung. It is, technically, around the time of their anniversary and this very hotel is where they’d officially become a couple two years ago.

She’d started feeling sentimental about it a few days ago and she knew he had, too. It was generally a romantic time and had they been in the same city, they would’ve made the best of it. Unfortunately, she has a race and he has some meeting at the company headquarters tomorrow that he can’t miss, and their anniversary weekend is pushed by another week.

There is something exciting about the distance and longing, too. A couple of days ago, she’d been texting Taehyung while he’d been at lunch with his friends, the messages getting progressively more explicit. He’d told her to cut it out but had also accompanied it with a subtle picture of his denim-covered crotch and his hand in the frame, clearly taken under a table.

The entire experience, including when he’d abruptly stopped responding for about ten minutes, had been so hot and so incredibly arousing, that Dilara had been waiting for another opportunity for another remote quickie.

She rolls over and picks up her phone, scrolling to their chat.

Dilara [08:10] Hey you

Tae [08:10] Hey beautifulJust woke up?

Dilara [08:11] Mhm. Had a really nice dream.

Tae [08:11] Oh yeah? Was I in it?

Dilara [08:11]Oh you definitely came in it

Tae [08:13] What are you wearing?

Dilara [08:13] Just underwearBut I’ll probably take it off soonI woke up with it really wet

Tae [08:14] Come on Zoom right now

Feeling her heart toss and her abdomen clench, she reaches over for her tablet on the side table and flips it open. Scrambling out of the blanket, she piles a couple of cushy pillows in front of her and places the tablet on it, balancing it neatly on the cover. She opens the Zoom app and checks the view on the preview screen, to see herself leaning against the remaining pillow, her face and entire body visible at the perfect angle.

Satisfied, she enters the meeting. Taehyung is already on the screen, his long black hair falling casually into his eyes, looking freshly washed and on their way to drying. He looks up and there’s a momentary smile that flickers across his face, interrupting the tension-filled atmosphere. It disappears quickly, though, and she sees him lean back and tilt his chin up.

He’s in his bedroom on the floor, sitting against his closet door with his laptop presumably on the bed, also positioned perfectly so she can see him perched nonchalantly, relaxed and in the forefront, only his bedroom door and a corner of his bedside table in the frame.

“You told me you were just wearing your underwear,” he notes.

Dilara nods, silently taking off her t-shirt, leaving almost all of herself completely exposed. It’s working already; she rubs her legs together in anticipation, wishing he were here in person to put her out of her misery.

“Good.” Taehyung is silent for a few moments, his gaze burning into her even through the screen. He palms his crotch, almost absently, and then flicks his head once. “Show me where it’s wet.”

Licking her lips, she bends her legs at the knees and spreads them, moving her hand down between them and pressing her fingers to her core. “Right there,” she confirms softly, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“Does that feel good?” His voice is low, deep and raspy. When she nods, he leans forward. “Do it again. And don’t stop.”

Dilara obliges, resting her head back on the pillow and rubbing herself through her underwear, her back arching slightly and her other hand twitching. Fortunately, he takes his cue.

“Squeeze your boobs for me,” he murmurs, sighing quietly when she obeys. “Flick your tits - like that, exactly. Play with your nipples.”

This was exactly what she needed; feeling his eyes on her, his voice commanding her and every single nerve ending alert and awake. “I’m really fucking wet, Tae,” she groans, opening her eyes to glance briefly at him.

“Take it off, then. Show me that beautiful pussy.” She can hear his sharp intake of breath when she slips her underwear down her legs and spreads them again. “Wider,” he says hoarsely. “I want you to rub that clit till you cum all over your fingers.”

She hums in pleasure, her moans growing in volume as she holds onto his voice, thick with arousal, and pictures his fingers inside her, his lean naked body against hers, her nipples in his mouth and his thick, hard cock pulsating against her thigh…

“Like what you see, baby?” Dilara opens her eyes again to see his bottom lip between his teeth and a deep frown on his forehead. “God, I wish I had your cock in my mouth right now…”

This time, he takes the cue. Swearing gruffly under his breath, he slips his tracks down his hips and frees his erection, the drops of pre cum glistening on his tip. His breathing gets choppier as he strokes himself and Dilara feels a familiar clench in her stomach once again.

She squeezes her eyes shut, able to focus on nothing but her fingers, her wetness starting to coat them and the knowledge that across the world, Kim Taehyung is coming undone just watching her pleasure herself.

“Oh, God,” she whispers. “Tae, I’m - I’m close…”

Taehyung says something, louder than before and her heart skips a beat: has she made him cum already? Just as she starts to reach the base of her orgasm and she hears him say something else, her eyes snap open - because that is not Taehyung’s voice.

“Lara!” Taehyung’s voice rings loud this time and she straightens up to see, unmistakably, another person in the room.

Dilara gasps and rolls out of the frame, her leg getting caught in the covers and causing her to tumble down onto the soft carpet. Her heart races, partly due to the mortification at being caught and partly due to the orgasm that was so rudely cut short. She yanks the throw from the chair next to the bed and wraps it haphazardly around herself, even though no one can see her anymore.

From the tablet, she can hear Taehyung go, in an annoyed voice, “What? Do you want to watch or something?”, followed by the other person - it’s Jungkook’s voice - going “Sorry, sorry, oh, my God -” and the sound of the door closing.

Dilara still doesn’t move, not until she hears Taehyung’s voice call her name.

“Is he gone?” she asks, gingerly climbing back onto the bed and keeping herself covered.

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s pants are hitched back up around his hips and he looks just as exasperated and disappointed as she feels, though seemingly minus the embarrassment. “Sorry… Namjoon broke the lock to my room and Jungkook just - what’s the word? Like, came in suddenly -”

“Barged in,” she mutters, settling back up in front of the camera. “You guys really need to learn how to knock.”

“We really do,” he agrees. He tilts his head apologetically, as though trying to gauge her exact mood. “Are you okay?”

“I am. I think JK was more traumatised than either of us, though,” she adds, cracking a small smile. Taehyung’s eyes twinkle, and they both burst out laughing.

—

One, two, three and four! Five and six, seven and -

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as the next step slips his mind. He forces himself to focus, humming Dionysus under his breath to keep his mind trained solely on the choreography, recalling every step and every movement and every muscle and every expression -

Oh, God… I’m - I’m close…

He grunts in annoyance as he turns on the shower in his bathroom, starting the routine from the beginning in his mind. He needs to focus - on Dionysus, on the Kyla Hanagami video he’d encountered on Instagram this morning, his gym routine today - on anything except his best friend’s girlfriend, naked and pleasuring herself.

His she’s my friend, she’s my friend mantra had been working ever since Taehyung had said it, and Jungkook had managed to convince himself that that’s all it was. He loves his friends, all his friends, and she was just that, a friend, a close friend, a close naked friend whose ribs jutted out just the tiniest bit as her back arched, whose tanned legs and small feet involuntarily pointed and dug into the covers as her voice got higher…

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

But the damage is done. He covers his face with his hands as the hot water falls from the shower; the choreography to Dionysus or whatever the hell he’d been trying to recall is clean out of the window by now. The image of Dilara, so naked and so hot and so insanely beautiful is burned into his mind and he doesn’t imagine it can ever leave.

It’s so wrong. It was so wrong of him to even catch a glimpse of it, accidental as it had been; it was so wrong to be unable to forget it, and it’s so wrong of his cock to be so hard in his hand right now.

She’s my friend. She’s my friend. She’s my…

The mantra continues, but it settles somewhere far behind in his mind, a different sort of instinct taking over. His hand moves of its own accord and he exhales softly, knowing he can’t stop now. She’s my friend that I accidentally saw naked, his mind tries to amend weakly, even as he sees only one thing behind his closed eyes.

Her high-pitched whines, ones he can hear ringing in his ears, mix with his lower, quicker, more frustrated grunts. His hand goes up to the wall for support as he reaches his climax, spilling over his fingers until he’s spent. He opens his eyes slowly, watching the evidence of his slip wash away into the drain.

His heart starts to slow down as he realises what he’s just done, and his stomach sinks low into his body.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

64 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

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broooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo i was making predictions about who would be which little blip at the beginning and i was SURE jk was "crossed a line" but now i'm wondering if he'll be one of the two kisses!!! ohhhh shitttt!!!!

jk: no you can't learn boxing that's MY thing with dilara WHAT A MESSY BITCH!!! JAYKAYYY YOU ARE A MESSY BIIIIIIITCH!!!!!!!!!!!

the way jungkook is over apologizing because he's ALSO apologizing for WANTING TAEHYUNG'S GIRL. ahem. anyway.

MY VMIN HEART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! listen like. the fact that taehyung notices and follows through on little unsaid things is one of my favorite things about him. it's like in BV3 when jimin mentioned needing to sew his pants and four hours later taehyung pushes a little sewing kit into his hands that he grabbed at the grovery store and NO ONE knew that mfer was even listening four hours ago. the fact that he saw how important this was and made a contingency plan for no other reason than that's his friend and he loves him...... GAWD. is it any mystery why i'm down so bad?

DID YOONGI JUST CRASH THE CAR AISFHUIASHFJAFH

OMG OMG OMG HE WENT TO NARI, NOT SEULGI I'M DYING I'M DYING I'M DYING I'M DYING I'M DYING I'M DYING THAT JUST MADE ME SO HAPPYYYYYYY

omg AND. okay. i was thinking during the parts where he was driving that he watched hoseok get up and go to check on chae and decide "oh that's what i should be doing", and thinking that he was mirroring that behavior and going to check on seulgi, i was thinking he was seeing the behavior he thought he should be presenting to his girlfriend and trying to "act the part" but in fact he actually went to the person he knew he cared that much about!!!

omg if she's in there with jason!!! i will!!! RIOT!!!!!

Part 1: A Rainy Day

Summary: Namjoon is on holiday with his girlfriend - and without Namjoon, all hell breaks loose.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, chaos

Word count: 6.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: I can't believe we're finally here! This fic has been in mind for so long, slowly evolving from a concept with a soundtrack to a whole outline and now to a complete half of a fic! Everything from the song to the situation to the leap that most of the characters will take feel like a milestone, so here's hoping it's a good one *insert gatsby meme*

The teaser to this fic got a lot of reactions :D so to make it worth the anticipation, this will be split into two parts. It is set a week or so after Dinner at the Kangs'. Enjoy!

Tagging: @bbl32@quarter-life-crisis2@dreaming-with-happiness@faearchives@margopinkerton@purpleseoul7@confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “bittersweet symphony" by the verve

teaser | main masterlist

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely.

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings.

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit.

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin’s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him.

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how - I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I��m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on.

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?”

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore.

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home.

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside.

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day.

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!”

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

72 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

oh what i would give to have min yoongi step between me and the thing i'm scared of!!!!!!

I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW CLOSE I AM TO THE END I DONT WANT TO BE CAUGHT UP I WANT IT TO KEEP GOING!!!!

Dinner at the Kangs’ (Yoongi x OC)

Summary: Yoongi is invited to a dinner he regrets attending, but couldn’t refuse. Every waking moment after that is spent worrying about you.

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Suspense, angst, mild fluff (but it’s angsty)

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Literally zero editing has taken place. Set a few weeks after A Lack of Colour.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: “hold me” by hojean

yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

Tap tap tap.

Yoongi glances briefly at Miso to his side, to see her gazing out of the window. Her side profile seems calm enough, although her arms are crossed tightly across her chest. It’s a moment before he realises the tapping sounds aren’t coming from her.

She looks at him the same time he turns to face the road.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

The question seems incongruously directed; Yoongi frowns slightly and presses his fingers against the steering wheel to stop them from tapping.

“I am,” he says deliberately. “Are you?”

She shrugs in response. It’s a long way from her demeanour earlier today, including the investors’ meeting she hadn’t been invited to but had to attend anyway, including the nepo baby whispers he’s sure she’d heard but couldn’t respond to, and the surprise dinner invitation to him from her father she clearly hadn’t expected but needed to echo while in his presence.

Any friend of Miso’s is welcome in our home.

Kang Jaesung’s lips had curled very slightly around his words but his face had stayed unreadable. A couple of years ago, Yoongi would’ve automatically accepted it to be polite. A year ago, he would’ve found it mildly smug but still would’ve said yes, just to keep an investor happy.

Today, he’d hesitated, his mind immediately trying to work out why he, of all people, had been personally invited to dinner at Miso’s father’s house, while Miso stood right next to him, her eyes going momentarily wide but her face staying still with an effort. Yoongi had met her eyes but she’d looked away instantly, almost as though her father went around inviting a stranger to dinner every day.

Except he wasn’t a stranger, and Kang Jaesung knew that. The lead producer who had forced Miso into this meeting, someone who probably didn’t even know the names of the other assistant producers, had been open about why she was included. He had probably meant well, too, when he’d gushed breathlessly during his presentation, that Kang Miso has been a pillar for this project, working so hard and burning the midnight oil with her co-producer, never knowing how Yoongi’s stomach had jolted at those words and he’d faced forward - only to see Miso’s father staring right at him.

“Is it about the album?”

Yoongi is about to deny it, but he figures he may as well engage - anything but think about what’s to come.

“Er - kind of.”

Miso waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she blinks. “Yes, you’ve really painted a picture for me,” she says dryly.

Fighting the urge to sigh, he shakes his head. “The way I’ve written it… it’s perfect. If I may say so myself,” he adds hastily, glancing away from the road momentarily. “That includes a collaboration… with this absolute jackass.”

Miso makes a sound of mild surprise. He pictures her raising her eyebrows in the way she does, which could indicate anything from sympathy to mockery.

“Why’s he a jackass?”

“He said some stuff about us - BTS - back in the day.” Yoongi takes a turn into a wide street, now officially entering the suburbs of Gangnam, home to the rich and famous. Not idol rich. Businessman rich. Chaebol rich.

“What kind of stuff?” Miso prompts him.

“Just… basically implied that some of us were sell-outs for doing the idol thing instead of sticking to hip-hop.” He winces at the memory. “I mean, he apologised publicly for it later, but…” He clicks his tongue.

“You called the guy who dissed you to work on a collab?” She lets out a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound like you, Min Suga.”

He half-chuckles. “It doesn’t?”

“No. Although, I’ve dissed you a bunch of times and it hasn’t kept you from working with me.”

“Not for lack of trying, too.” He hears her snicker at that and his smile widens a bit. “I didn’t call him. He reached out to me - or, his people reached out to mine.” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know.”

Miso is quiet for a moment. “You said he apologised, though.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“And it’s good for your album?”

“It would be great - he’s an incredible rapper. But -”

“Then what’s the problem? It’s just work.”

Yoongi is about to argue but stops himself, sensing that he isn’t going to make much headway here. Things like baggage, band loyalty, camaraderie - while she understands them on an intellectual level, she seems too detached to actually spot them in reality.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

“About tonight?” Miso hesitates, then shakes her head. “There’s no point thinking about it. You never know what’s going to happen and…” She turns to him, leaning back against her side of the car. “It’s better to just be prepared for anything.”

Yoongi blinks, for this does not help him at all. But there’s a note of resignation in her tone that prevents him from pointing it out and he half-wonders if he himself is overthinking it, or if Miso has just transcended past the mad anxiety into a state of unhinged calm or something.

They don’t speak again until they reach Miso’s house - or, rather, her father’s estate. Like the last time he was here, Yoongi can’t fathom this kind of wealth - the kind that changes people, or the kind that influences things like business and politics beyond what you read in the papers.

He parks the car and they step out together, walking beside each other but with a careful distance between them all the way from the car park to the lawns sprawled in front of the house. It’s dark by now and the perfectly mown grass is damp with dew. Yoongi’s stomach churns unexpectedly; a few more steps and they will be fully visible in the glow of the lights along the garden.

“Miso.”

She takes a couple of more steps before stopping, turning around when she realises he isn’t next to her. “What?”

He stares at her and holds up his hands. “You have to give me something before we go inside. What to expect, what to say - I mean, I have no idea what’s going to happen in there,” he adds, pointing towards the house.

Miso frowns, her arms crossed. “Neither do I. This is quite literally the first time this has ever happened.”

But something in his expression must have told her he’s serious, for a moment later, she sighs and her face softens a bit. She clears her throat and takes a small step towards him.

“Fine. Don’t tell my mother her house looks nice,” she says. “Tell her the decor is better than every celebrity’s house you’ve ever been to.” She waits for a few seconds, presumably to let this digest. “Don’t… compliment me. But also don’t insult me,” she adds, frowning. “And don’t make it seem like we’ve worked together all that much… but also kind of let it be known that I’m probably the most valuable team member you’ve ever had.”

“How -”

“And try to act intimidated by my father,” she continues, “but not in a… like a simpering way, or he’ll lose respect for you.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’m not trying to earn his respect.”

Miso purses her lips lightly. “Maybe. But trust me - you don’t want to lose it.”

He bites his lip, his head swimming. He wishes he could enter her mind to try and understand what the hell she’s talking about. But he never has and he doubts tonight is when it will change.

“Let’s go back to your earlier suggestion of not thinking about it,” he mutters. Miso pokes her tongue into her cheek, looking almost as though she’s suppressing a smile.

“If I were a cliche, I’d tell you to just be yourself,” she tells him as they resume walking. “But that hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past, so…”

“Worked fine on me. Well, not during the first couple of years of knowing you but, you know. After that.”

Miso snorts again, covering her hand with her mouth. “New rule: do not try to make me laugh in there.”

Inexplicably, Yoongi feels his mouth twist. They are almost at her front door now, only a few steps remaining before them. “I’ll do my best, Kang Chanel.”

“Do not call me Kang Chanel in there,” she hisses, her eyes still betraying mirth. “Min Suga,” she tacks on at the end.

Yoongi wants to joke back but at that moment, she reaches forward to push open the door. Just like the first time he’d seen it, it’s enormous, creaking cleanly on hinges. When they step inside and the door closes behind them, it’s like being enclosed in a dungeon again.

The living room is expansive - but it’s also different. He frowns, trying to recall the last time he’d been here, so long ago. Had it always been green?

“Mother took on an interior decorating project earlier this year,” mutters Miso, almost as if she can hear his thoughts. “She thought cream and green were more regal.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately. Once the initial surprise dies down, the olive green and cream combination is actually not too bad, if a bit unexpected. He remembers Miso’s advice and makes a mental note to mention it to her mother.

“Where is -”

“In here.” Miso walks ahead of him, the distance between them already increasing. Yoongi follows her out of the hall and into the dining area, the entire space as big as the apartment he grew up in. The fireplace is immaculate, with electric flames dancing mildly on the base. The floors are shiny enough for him to see his reflection in, and the decor (black, white and light gold) makes him feel like he’s in a hotel. He exhales and turns to look for Miso, only to face the bar - and the bartender.

“Welcome,” says the man behind the bar. He places four glasses before him - three tumblers and one wine glass - with smooth precision. He doesn’t look up until he’s poured a whiskey into the first two glasses. “Do you drink, Yoongi?”

Yoongi starts; he realises he expected the house to be crawling with staff. A cook here, a butler there, a housekeeper, a gardener, possibly a shoe-shiner - definitely not Kang Jaesung himself standing at the bar, making his own drink.

A sound breaks through this revelation; it’s Miso clearing her throat and Yoongi realises he was asked a question.

“Uh, yes… sir.”

Kang Jaesung nods mildly but doesn’t look up, pouring a third whiskey, followed by a few drops of water in each. Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s imagining the sudden aroma of expensive whiskey. A few ice cubes clink with the bottom of each glass; Miso steps forward to pick one up and her father does the same. Just before taking a sip, he pushes the third glass an inch.

“Drink,” he says, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. There’s no please, no hint of a question or an offer, but something about his tone takes Yoongi off guard. It’s not a challenge, or even an order - but he doesn’t know what it is either.

After hesitating for a moment, Yoongi picks up the drink. He takes a sip to discover the smoothest whiskey he has ever tasted, and his stomach twists painfully at the thought of how much this bottle would’ve cost.

“Delicious whiskey, Father,” says Miso, standing by the dining table.

“It’s Scottish,” he replies in answer, now retrieving a bottle of Cabernet from the shelf behind him and pouring it into the remaining wine glass. He finally steps out from behind the bar just as, as if on cue, Miso’s mother appears in a spotless white sleeveless pantsuit.

“For my lady,” he murmurs, reaching her and offering her the wine. They exchange a momentary hint of a smile and clink their glasses together before drinking together.

Yoongi frowns but immediately straightens his face, instead turning to look at Miso and hoping to see his own confusion reflected in her face. But she isn’t looking confused; in fact, she isn’t even looking at him. She’s walking towards the expansive kitchen and scanning the food neatly laid out - trays of sushi, the choicest cuts of lamb, devilled eggs and salmon. It seems like an awful lot for only four people, but before he can dwell on it, he hears his name.

“Yoongi.” It’s Miso’s mother this time. “How lovely to see you again.”

For some reason, my mother’s got it in her head that I’m her competition. Yoongi’s mind immediately goes back to the hotel, to the restaurant opening, to the coat closet. To his horror, he can feel his cheeks heat up and he hopes to the heavens that they aren’t changing colour.

“You, too, Mrs Kang.”

He bows, a little belatedly, but finds she has simply brushed past him and into the dining area. “Your - your house is beautiful. Much more than some of the other houses I’ve been to in Gangnam,” he adds quickly.

Kang Sera says nothing but a moment later she raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, looking somewhat satisfied. “Thank you. It’s changed a lot since you were last here.”

Yoongi is sure he spots Miso’s eyes widening for a fraction of a second but before he can react, she’s smoothly changed the subject.

“The new drapes are lovely, too, Mother. They are imported, you know?” she says. “From Italy.”

It takes him a moment to realise he’s expected to respond. Meeting her eyes briefly, he nods. “They’re… wonderful.”

There’s a brief silence during which Kang Sera, looking almost bored, takes a seat at one end of the table. Her husband follows suit and sits at the other end after which, finally, Miso pulls out a chair along one of the sides.

“You should offer a seat to our guest first, Miso.” Kang Jaesung speaks, sounding like he’s chiding her for not doing her homework on time. “Yoongi. I apologise for my daughter.”

“Oh, no, that’s - that’s quite alright,” he replies hastily, not quite sure why he’s stuttering. He pulls up a chair as well, directly opposite Miso, who’s pursing her lips with her eyes on her glass.

Kang Jaesung makes a motion and as if out of nowhere, two men appear from somewhere near the kitchen and pick up the trays of food, beginning to silently serve them.

“So, Yoongi. I hear you’ve been working for Big Hit for a few years now.”

It’s not a question. Yoongi isn’t immediately sure how to respond, especially since no one has ever referred to him as “working” for Big Hit before.

“I - yes. Eight years. Eleven, if you count training.”

“Training?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised, sounding barely interested.

“Yes. All idols need to train before they can debut. Before they can begin releasing music,” he adds, as if to clarify. But then the next second he cringes inwardly, wondering if that comes across as patronising.

“Idol? So… do you dance and sing and all that?” There’s a hint of a smile on his face, teetering between confusion and amusement.

He instinctively bristles, becoming instantly defensive. But Yoongi gets a distinct feeling that the question is meant to unsettle him, and he nods.

“That’s right. Sir. I also work as a producer for the company, though.”

Kang Jaesung observes him for a moment, then raises his eyebrows and nods, sitting back in his chair, spine straight. “That’s quite impressive. Two jobs, two roles. Two ways to make the company dependent on you,” he adds, his smile widening slightly, as though sharing a private joke. “Impressive.”

It occurs to Yoongi only now that as such a big stakeholder of Big Hit, it seems unlikely that he would not know about Yoongi’s participation in the group. But the thought seems benign; instinctively, Yoongi smiles back, albeit a little uncomfortably.

“Do you think it’s impressive, Miso?”

Yoongi’s heart jerks a little, but Miso doesn’t even flinch. “It is,” she answers, before looking at Yoongi briefly. “Congratulations.”

Their kiss in the coat closet might as well have been a figment of Yoongi’s imagination for all the distance she’s displaying right now. He tells himself it’s a part she’s playing (too well, possibly) but for now, he finds himself wishing she would at least meet his eyes for longer than a second.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you and Miso are working together,” he continues, as the last of the food is finally served and the waiters shuffle away just as quietly as they’d appeared. “I didn’t think much of it in the beginning but it might be worth it for the experience. And the role models.”

Yoongi can’t tell if he’s being made fun of. There’s that twinkle in Kang Jaesung’s eye again, like he’s bringing Yoongi in on a joke, but a bigger part of his brain is focused on Miso. Surely - surely - this must be making Kang Miso’s blood boil?

Miso takes a sip of her whiskey and looks at her father, tilting her head slightly. “I told you there was an upside, Father,” she says, almost teasingly.

Kang Jaesung nods and smiles, raising his glass slightly. “I concede to you there.”

From across the table, Miso’s mother chuckles. “You may have done the impossible, Miso. Your father doesn’t admit defeat so easily.”

They all laugh lightly and begin tucking into their plates, while Yoongi watches in horrid fascination. It’s as though he’s watching a play - a terribly written play with rubbish storytelling, with actors simply reading off a script.

As the dinner progresses, the same line of delicate conversation continues. Kang Jaesung asks a question whose answer seems elusive as ever, Yoongi uneasily provides one anyway, he responds with a statement that could be taken in ten different ways, while his wife and daughter interject occasionally.

Try as he might, Yoongi can’t understand Kang Jaesung. Until today, he had pigeonholed the business magnate as a narcissistic, sociopathic capitalist who struck a mysterious fear in Miso. Yoongi hated his very existence on principle - which is why he cannot fathom how he is not only sitting next to Kang Jaesung and eating his food and drinking his booze, but he is actually trying.

It’s hard to admit but somewhere through dinner, Yoongi realises he’s genuinely intimidated by Kang Jaesung. It’s not hostile in nature, but the mild smiles and the sparing, passive aggressive compliments make Yoongi want to correct him - to actively appear better in front of him.

The Kangs continue to put on this charade of a well-natured, riffing family which would be amusing if it weren’t so obviously untrue. He wonders how and why Miso is participating, until it occurs to him that this little production isn’t being put on for his benefit. No, it seems far too rehearsed, almost as if it’s been going on for years.

He also realises a little while later, when there’s a momentary pause after a joke that he’s suddenly sure has broken this facade (but results in a borderline haunting chuckle from Kang Jaesung), that the only reason it seems so fake to him is because he knows it’s fake. Everything Miso has told him, however grudgingly, about her family has been with disdain and resignation and he is suddenly sure he is the first and only person she has ever confided in.

Yoongi tries to meet Miso’s eyes, but it seems hopeless now. She’s acting like he’s just a colleague. Even worse, she’s channelling the Miso he met and resented instantly over a year ago, ignoring the waiters who serve her and seeming more in tune with her horrible wealthy parents than ever.

It isn’t until the dinner is coming to an end, the last course of smoked lamb and caviar (Caviar? On a Wednesday night?) being cleared away that Yoongi gets any indication at all that he isn’t stuck in the most mediocre nightmare he’s ever had.

Miso has just nonchalantly laughed off a rather backhanded comment by her mother regarding her relationship status. Yoongi, for a plethora of reasons, grits his teeth at this but holds his tongue, biting his lip until his phone buzzes in on the seat of the chair next to him. He’s about to ignore it until he sees Miso’s name flash across the screen.

His chest jolts; looking around and deciding that the minor transition movement of the plates being cleared away, Kang Jaesung checking his phone and Kang Sera motioning for another drink, is safe for him to swipe up the screen.

Kang Chanel [20:35] Fix your face, Min Suga.

Yoongi grits his teeth harder - but, he realises a moment later, only to keep from accidentally smiling. His eyes snap up to look at her but she’s finishing her drink, looking rather haughty and bored in her own dining room, as though she can’t wait for this night to be over.

Yoongi can relate. He is supposed to meet Jungkook to record a demo tonight, he remembers suddenly. Eleven pm was what they had agreed upon which seems doable, but also seems too far away.

“So, Yoongi,” says Kang Jaesung, as dessert starts being served. “What do you think of my daughter?”

There’s a moment where no one speaks, and Yoongi simply blinks. “Sir?”

He raises his eyebrows. “As her superior,” he clarifies slowly, “what do you think of her? Do you think she has a future in music?”

For the first time all night, Yoongi deliberately does not look in Miso’s direction. “She does,” he replies honestly. “She has shown a good understanding of the different elements of making music and… well, she’s worked on quite a few collaborations that have gone on to release.”

Kang Jaesung smiles; the same small, mild, perfunctory smile. “That’s good to hear, I suppose. Although, it’s tough,” he muses. “You see, for a man in my position, I have to be… discerning, when I hear about my own family. Miso is my heir and I have to be sure that my life’s work, my fortune… it’s in the right hands. I have no doubt she works hard but she will never truly know the desperation to make it,” he says casually, as though his heir and legacy isn’t sitting five feet away from him. “Not like you and me.”

Yoongi’s stomach twists; he feels nauseous. He doesn’t know if it’s Miso being called her father’s “heir”, or Kang Jaesung’s familiarity in lumping himself and Yoongi together, or the fact that a part deep down inside him, the part that once thought very less of Kang Chanel for the exact same reasons, almost agrees.

He doesn’t want to dwell on how much Kang Jaesung might know of his own struggles; whether he is simply guessing or he’s had a PI tailing him. But it’s dawning on him that accepting this invitation was a huge mistake, on every level. He can’t imagine looking Miso in the eye right now. Does she assume he agrees with her father?

“I suppose one can’t be held responsible for their childhood… sir,” he says finally, feeling both defensive yet drained. “But you can be proud of Miso’s work ethic. She is an asset to - to the team.”

Kang Jaesung nods, then frowns. “I wish I could take your word for it, Yoongi. But you are just one person in the company.”

“Yes, but I have worked with Miso the longest, on multiple songs,” he replies, trying not to sound too argumentative. “It’s been over a year and I can - I can tell you, sir… she has grown a lot. I can vouch for that.”

There’s silence again. Kang Jaesung licks his lips slowly, the hint of a smile still present, observing Yoongi as though he’s just noticed him for the first time. For a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s convinced him, but a movement in his periphery distracts him.

He turns to look at Kang Sera, who’s just placed a hand under her chin with one slender finger over her mouth, a grim sort of satisfaction on her face. Next to her, Miso is finally looking directly at him, her eyes wary.

And Yoongi realises he might have made a terrible mistake.

—

The Kangs’ living room, now that he’s actually in it, is enormous. It’s like a hotel ballroom, like an extremely luxurious prison cell where a billionaire might be forced to stay in solitary for the crime of not wasting money.

A waiter appears at Yoongi’s elbow where he’s by the floor-to-ceiling glass case, holding a silver tray with a small white coffee cup.

“It’s Arabic,” says Miso’s mother, the only person sitting, legs folded elegantly underneath her on the plush white sofa. “Handpicked coffee beans that are dried and shipped in airtight containers to our doorstep. Costs a fortune.”

Shocker. Yoongi takes a sip; it’s good, but not worthy of a soliloquy.

“It’s delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”

She nods in satisfaction and goes back to her phone, manicured talons swiping up the screen while she sips her coffee.

“Did you drive here, Yoongi?” Kang Jaesung asks, standing at the other end of the glass case, one hand holding a cup and the other in his pocket, observing a plaque displayed inside.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you find the house alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the guards outside? Did they give you any trouble?” He tilts his head towards Yoongi, almost jovially. “They are instructed to protect the house from outsiders after all.”

Yoongi grits his teeth again, frustrated. It’s a double-edged sword, one that cannot keep those guards from getting in trouble either way unless he gives Kang Jaesung the exact response he wants.

“They recognised Miso, sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course. You drove her here,” he feigns remembering. “I almost forgot.”

Bullshit.

“How nice of you, Yoongi.” Kang Sera looks up from across the room, her gaze flickering towards Miso by the corner of one of the armchairs, shoulders hunched and silently staring into her coffee. “You and Miso must really go far back for you to offer her a ride. Or you’re just a very good boss.” She titters.

No, you witch. Your husband took the car and the driver, and outright asked me to drive your daughter home - apparently just so he can fuck with us.

Kang Jaesung chuckles in agreement, and Yoongi wants to throw the steaming contents of his cup in the older man’s face.

“You’re a lucky girl, Miso,” her father says, glancing back at her. “But she’s always been lucky. She graduated from a university in New Zealand - a year early,” he adds. “Did you know that, Yoongi?”

“Australia,” mutters Miso, but no one save for Yoongi seems to hear her.

“Come. Take a look.” Kang Jaesung motions to Yoongi to join him and waits until he does. He points to a plaque inside, with the name of a university, followed by Class of 2012 embossed in bronze. On the left side is a space for a photo frame, with a picture of a much younger Miso in a red and white graduation gown, holding a diploma.

“Wow,” murmurs Yoongi, only for a lack of anything else to say.

Her father hums. “Two years after this, she got her business degree from Columbia - Columbia University, that’s in America - but she wanted to move back to Australia straight after.” He shakes his head. “I tried to talk her out of it but she’s really quite stubborn that way.”

Something about this anecdote just does not sound correct at all, but Yoongi knows it’s not his place to ask - not here, anyway. He makes a mental note to bring it up with Miso later, but for now, he just wants this dinner to end.

“I’m sure we have the plaque for that, too - Miso, come here and help me look.”

For a moment, it looks as though Miso might decline but then she walks over, moving straight past Yoongi who takes this opportunity to step away from Kang Jaesung’s immediate radius so he’s standing a few feet away from both father and daughter who are by the glass case.

“Over there,” she mutters, pointing to right behind the first plaque.

“Oh, of course. It’s getting blocked by this.” He opens the case and shifts a framed magazine cover with his own face on it - looking blazing and stony and worldly all at once - and brings Miso’s Columbia plaque forward.

“There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?”

Miso sips her coffee noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi gets the feeling she was expected to, however, and finds himself responding.

“Congratulations on the Time cover. Sir.”

“Thank you. I suppose achievement is genetic as well.” He smiles and looks from his daughter to his wife - the latter of whom has now put down her phone. Any remnant of phone humour has left her face as she stares at her husband, who’s looked away by now.

“They are both quite impressive, Yoongi,” she says after a moment. “In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t see it the last time you were here.”

It’s the second time she’s brought up his last visit to this house, during a time when the only feelings Yoongi could muster towards Miso were resentment, annoyance and some amount of pity. There’s no avoiding it this time, though; Kang Jaesung picks up on it immediately.

“What’s that?” He frowns, his tone sharper than it has been all evening. His eyes snap up to Yoongi. “I didn’t realise you’d been here before.”

He’s telling the truth, Yoongi realises. All evening, Kang Jaesung has been one, maybe several steps ahead of them. This time, though, he’s been caught off guard.

“Of course he has. It was at the family gathering last summer. Don’t you remember, darling? Miso brought Yoongi as her date - I was so excited until Miso told me they were simply colleagues.” She titters again, but there’s no humour there whatsoever.

Yoongi can’t accurately judge the severity of the situation, but even though she’s a few feet away, he can’t almost feel Miso stiffen.

“I see,” says Kang Jaesung, softly. “How amusing.”

“He wasn’t a date, Father,” says Miso, eyes flickering upwards but not meeting her fathers’. “I invited him as a guest, because he was my boss at the time. You had met him, too, in the studio.”

“Is that right? Well, now. It might be my mistake,” he says suddenly. “I wasn’t made aware that I was… setting something else in motion.” His lips curl around the words. “I suppose girls never grow out of keeping things from their fathers.”

There’s the same pretence of good-natured family humour, but Yoongi is not fooled this time. It’s the most tense, uncomfortable situation he can remember being in. He looks up to see Kang Jaesung watching his daughter, while Miso’s fingers tighten around her cup.

Maybe it’s completely innocuous, but something about the motion makes Yoongi’s gaze move to her hands and an image flashes in his mind, of a bluish purple mark on her wrist.

It all happens in an instant. Kang Jaesung raises his hand very slightly - he may have simply been reaching for his phone for all Yoongi knows - to his right, Miso inhales shakily, and Yoongi instinctively steps in between them. At the last second he places his empty coffee cup on the table under the glass case, attempting to be nonchalant.

But the damage is done. Kang Jaesung’s gaze bores into Yoongi, a few seconds which feel like they last several hours, until finally he takes a step back.

“I think we might call it a night here,” he suggests, taking a sip of his coffee and placing his cup right next to Yoongi’s. He picks up his phone and moves away, as though already having forgotten. “Yoongi… forgive me. I’m a busy man.”

Yoongi nods jerkily. “Of course. Thank you for the invite. The dinner was wonderful. Thank you, Mrs Kang,” he adds after a moment. He moves to leave, careful not to acknowledge Miso at all. Just as he’s almost out of the living room, his heart uncomfortably and irregularly beating, Kang Jaesung speaks again.

“Miso, please escort our guest to his car.”

“Of course.”

There’s no time for Yoongi to react. Miso walks towards him and motions for him to continue, and they exit the house together, down the stairs and across the lawn in complete silence. Yoongi is too on edge to speak, not even sure where to begin. But the mansion looms behind him, opulent and intimidating and it isn’t until they cross beyond the lights bordering the lawn and reach his car in the dark parking lot that Yoongi is finally confident enough to openly face her.

“Miso,” he says, and he is shocked to hear the worry in his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened but I - I swear I didn’t mean to say -”

He’s cut off almost instantly, however. Her face is shrouded in the dark of the night underneath a moonless sky, but he can still see the smile flicker across her face before she reaches forward and kisses him.

It takes Yoongi a few bewildered seconds to respond but by the time he can register it, it’s already over.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She doesn’t look or sound happy, but the smile is still there, almost resigned. She looks like she wants to say more but gives up quickly. On some level, Yoongi is glad. He doesn’t know if either of them wants it out there, in the universe: the implications of his instincts, the reason for their being. But they can’t deny that it happened and that for a moment, someone stood between her and her father.

“I’ll see you around, Yoongi,” she says. Before he can say anything, she turns around and walks back to her house.

—

Miso doesn’t come into work the next day. Yoongi does an all-nighter at the studio, but even when he returns in the late afternoon, after a nap and scarfing down some instant ramen, she still isn’t there. He waits, fidgeting throughout the day, but she never comes. She doesn’t come the next day either, or the day after that.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to feel. Paranoid is a safe word, especially because it implies a fear of nothing in specific, which is exactly what it seems like right now. He calls her, half-heartedly, only to get her voicemail. Disappointed but not quite surprised, he asks Donghyuk.

“She called in sick a couple of days ago,” he supplies, which sounds like bullshit to Yoongi but is none of Donghyuk’s business.

Finally, after four days during which Yoongi tries hard to suppress his helplessness so he can work, Miso returns.

Yoongi is in his studio, working with a young solo artist on a track for her second studio album. They are debating a lyric in the second verse, stuck on the inflection of a particular word, when the door to his studio opens.

“Yoongi,” says Miso, in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “Donghyuk is asking if you will be available any time today to prep for the marketing meeting tomorrow.”

It’s a full ten seconds before Yoongi is able to answer. It isn’t until she raises her eyebrows and gives him a look that he snaps out of it.

“I - yes. I will be. Uh… when?”

“I don’t know. He’s not here right now, but I can ask him when he gets back.” With that, she nods and retreats, the door swinging shut behind her.

Yoongi stays still, glued to his seat, and takes a deep breath. “Where were we?” he asks the artist next to him, barely noticing when she points out the line they were discussing. He nods and they stay on the topic, tone neutral, while Yoongi counts to a hundred and twenty in his head.

“You know what? Just give me a minute,” he says apologetically, already standing up. “I forgot something - but keep at it. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.” He gives her an encouraging thumbs up before calmly walking out of his studio. The moment the door closes behind him, he rushes to Donghyuk’s studio.

Without knocking, he throws open the door to see Miso standing at the opposite end of the studio, leaning back against the wall and typing something into her phone. She looks up the moment he enters and a smile starts to form on her face.

Yoongi exhales and strides in, and they meet halfway in a hug.

“Fucking hell, Kang Miso,” he murmurs, realising at this very moment that not only had he been worried this whole time, but he’d also missed her. “Could’ve dropped me a text or something, you know?”

She chuckles dryly, and her arms tighten around his neck for a moment before she relaxes and steps away. She looks the same as always, but a bit more subdued somehow. He can’t put his finger on it exactly; it’s something in the eyes-face-hair area but the smile she cracks is the same as always.

“Nothing nearly interesting enough to text you about,” she replies, shrugging. “I’m sure me being gone was a net positive - you probably got a lot more work done without me snarking about it.”

“Shut up, that’s not funny,” he mutters, but feels his lips twitch anyway. “Jesus, Miso, where… I mean, how…” He trails away, suddenly with no idea what to ask. A sudden memory flashes through his mind and he grabs her hand, pushing her sleeve up to reveal her pale, slender wrist.

Yoongi blinks at it for a few seconds before slowly meeting her eyes, part relieved and part embarrassed. Miso’s head is tilted slightly, as though she knows where his mind is. He’s saved from trying to speak when the studio door opens and it’s Hyeongseo, the artist he’s been working with all day.

“Hey - oh, sorry,” she says vaguely. Yoongi realises he’s still holding Miso’s hand and drops it immediately, turning away from her. “It’s just… I need to head out for a shoot soon, so…”

“Of course.” He nods and follows Hyeongseo out of the studio but stops just short of the exit to look at Miso. “We’ll, uh…”

She crosses her arms across her chest and nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” There’s a moment of awkward silence during which Yoongi’s feet won’t move. “Don’t leave,” he blurts out, managing to add a warning tone to it at the end to cover up the mortification.

Thankfully she chuckles and waves him away. “Go do some work, Min Suga.”

And Yoongi does just that. For the next hour, he pores over the rest of the song with Hyeongseo and even manages to record a rough demo for their next meeting. His mind is catching the most minute beats and sounds and pronunciations with ease and by the time they listen to the final version of the demo, he’s surprised even himself.

He doesn’t go back to Donghyuk’s studio, though, even after Hyeongseo leaves. He spends a while longer on other work, returns some emails, goes on a smoke break - anything to not be the one to try and accost Miso again, especially after that overeager Don’t leave!

At some point during the night, she drops him a text.

Kang Chanel [21:50] Donghyuk has managed to pick the absolute worst pizza place in the damn city.

It takes Yoongi a few minutes to decode the message, after which he simply decides she wants him to come over on the pretext of helping finish some sub-standard pizza. He turns out to be correct on all accounts and while he’s initially mildly disappointed to see Donghyuk there as well, it ends up being for the best, for it’s the first time since he’s ever known Miso that they have both hung out as friends, with friends, eating pizza and joking around without any sort of awkwardness or discomfort.

Despite Donghyuk’s reputation for crassness and abrasive attitude, he and Miso genuinely seem to be friends. Yoongi is uncertain how much he knows or what he thinks he’s deduced; it becomes somewhat clear when Donghyuk finally decides to head out for the night and tells them very cryptically to not to do anything he wouldn’t do. It elicits a chuckle from Miso, and Yoongi finds himself grateful on two counts as the other producer bids them goodbye.

“The pizza wasn’t nearly as bad as you made it out to be,” says Yoongi after a moment, when it’s just the two of them. They’re on a revolving chair each, about five feet away from each other.

“Clearly, since you polished off four slices,” she points out, stretching her arms and gathering her hair into a ponytail. She hitches one of her legs up on the chair, the soles of her Converse shoes slightly muddy, and sighs tiredly.

Yoongi glances down at his hands. They’re finally alone but it hits him that despite a lot of worrying, he’s had no way of preparing for this moment.

“So what have I missed?” Miso asks, as though she’s been on vacation. “Aside from that weird new security scanner they have on the floor.”

He doesn’t look up. “A sasaeng managed to break into the building. Twelve hours later, it was there.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Wow, some people have a lot of time on their hands. Who was she here for? Wait - is it offensive to assume it was a girl?”

“Miso,” he says.

“Hm?”

Yoongi meets her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” he asks softly.

“Home,” she answers, without missing a beat.

“Home?”

“Home,” she confirms. “You were there a few days ago.”

He ignores the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I remember your house,” he mutters. “So you were just… in your house, the last four days?” When she shrugs, he blinks. “Why?”

“I mean…” Miso shifts in her chair and sighs, as though the answer should be obvious. “As you could probably tell, that dinner did not go all that well. My father said he needed to decide if he could - quote unquote - trust me.” She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue nonchalantly. “So I couldn’t go to work until he was sure.” She shrugs again.

The questions in Yoongi’s mind are endless. “So… what? He trusts you now?”

“Apparently.”

“Like, he gave you permission to come to work today?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

Yoongi sighs deeply. “Miso, come on. I’ve been worried sick about you - I thought I got you in trouble. You’ve got to give me something more here.”

For a moment, she looks like she’s about to argue, but then her eyes soften slightly. “Yoongi, there’s really nothing more to tell. I’m serious - I know what you’re thinking,” she adds when he opens his mouth to retort. “Okay? The sleeve thing was pretty obvious. But I promise you, I was mostly just in my room, getting bored, getting my meals delivered to my doorstep, and trying to read War and Peace.”

“What -”

“It’s a book.”

He stares, feeling a very familiar annoyance surfacing. “I was going to ask, What about your phone?” he clarifies slowly. “Or could you not just drop me a text to let me know you were okay?”

For the first time, Miso hesitates. “My phone… may have been taken away. It was brought to me this morning along with my breakfast, which is how I figured I was good to come in today.”

It occurs to Yoongi that he isn’t about to get any further details about her disappearance. From where he’s standing, it sounds as though she was locked in her room for four days with no means of communication until her villain of a father deemed it okay for her to be released. But Miso’s tone seems extremely incongruous to the situation, sounding almost unbothered, and it’s frustrating on multiple levels.

“You know…” He begins, then stops. This could backfire. “I hope you know that you can trust me,” he tries again. “You can tell me if… well, anything.” He waits.

She observes him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll say it,” she states abruptly. “No, I wasn’t hurt. My father doesn’t really have a taste for violence.”

Yoongi scoffs without meaning to; despite having no evidence to the contrary, he finds that hard to believe.

“I’m not saying he’s not capable of it,” she amends, “but it’s not his style.”

“Yeah? What is his style?”

“This,” she answers, surprising him. “Power. And control. Something that night made him feel like he wasn’t fully in control of the situation,” she says, and her pause indicates to Yoongi that they both know what that probably was. “So this was his way of making sure I know who’s really in charge. He’s done it before,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

What the fuck? “So…” Yoongi struggles to form a coherent sentence for a few seconds. “So what changed? What did he do in those four days that changed everything?”

“I don’t know!” Miso exclaims, half-chuckling. “Who the hell knows what goes in my father’s head? It’s pointless to try and figure it out after a point. But you shook him in a way that I haven’t seen in a while,” she admits after a moment.

He can’t deduce if this is meant to be a compliment. “I really thought I got you in trouble,” he murmurs. “I tried to keep my distance but I think I might have…” He trails off.

“Yoongi.” She shifts in her chair so she’s facing him completely. “This wasn’t your fault,” she tells him, as though it just occurred to her that this might be a possibility to him.

“But you told me, even back at that restaurant opening, that your mother would get all crazy and even before the dinner, you said -”

“Yeah, but that’s not what happened here,” she interrupts him. “Yoongi, my father knows I’ve had relationships with men. I mean, I’m almost thirty - it’s not that shocking. That is not why I asked you to keep your distance. I mean, it is, but…” She shakes her head. “Not in the way that you think.”

Yoongi runs his hand down his face. He can’t imagine growing up like this, living, constantly, in a cold war with your parents.

“Look, somehow, all the guys I’ve ever been with - and there haven’t been that many of them - have always been related to my father in a way. They were either in the same social circle or their fathers worked for my father, or they worked for my father.”

“I don’t work for your father,” he says immediately.

She frowns. “Don’t you?”

The minute detail of Kang Jaesung being a Hybe stakeholder had slipped Yoongi’s mind, and the fact suddenly makes him want to vomit.

“The only guy that had nothing to do with my father was this guy I was seeing when I lived in Australia,” she continues. “The moment they got wind of the fact that it was getting slightly serious, I was made to return to Seoul.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. Perhaps Miso realises why, for her tone is suddenly gentler.

“But you may be the first one of them to ever make him feel threatened. And I’m not just talking about the thing at the end,” she clarifies, a hint of a smile on her lips.

It takes him a moment, but he returns it. Her kiss had lingered for hours after the fact - days, even - and Yoongi had remembered it with guilt and longing in equal measure. He wishes this were easier.

“Why don’t you leave, Miso?” he asks, noting how she stiffens. “Haven’t you even thought about it?”

It’s clear from the way she turns away from him ever so slightly that this isn’t where she expected the conversation to go.

“It’s not that easy,” she says flatly.

“Not at first, sure. But you’re twenty-nine - I mean, it’s pretty common to move out by this age,” he points out. “I’m sure you have savings. You can get an apartment - or I can help you out. But… why are you still here?”

She presses her tongue into her cheek. “It’s complicated.”

He’s about to argue, when something else stirs in his memory of that dinner. “By the way… can I ask you something?” He takes her begrudging raise of the eyebrows as a yes. “What did your father mean when he said… that you’re his heir?”

She’s silent for so long that he thinks she may not answer at all. “He meant exactly what you think he meant,” she says eventually.

“So you’re going to inherit… what? His whole company?”

“I’m a chaebol. You know what that means, right?”

He does, it’s true. Not only does he know it in theory, he knows she is one. He’s called her that, multiple times; in the early days of their tense dynamic, it felt harsher than nepo baby.

“What did you do about your collab?” she asks before he can continue on his train of thought.

“Oh -” Yoongi pauses. “Um - nothing. Yet. Still debating what to do next.”

“Still? Either this artist is epic or you’re just overthinking this, Min Suga.”

“Genius Dragon is unfortunately that good, but I’m not overthinking for no good reason. It’s -”

“Hold on - his name is Genius Dragon?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a mouthful.”

“Not to mention original.” She rolls her eyes and winces. “God, I remember this guy. I think I attended a workshop he took a million years ago.”

“Yeah?” This is surprising. “What did you think of him?”

“Kind of full of himself,” she mutters. From this, Yoongi gathers that she agrees with his assessment about the rapper’s talent. “But if he’s that good… come on, don’t tell me this is still about something he said to you a decade ago.”

“It’s not about me,” he retorts, a little defensively. “This album is personal, and this particular song is even more so. Aside from the fact that he’s from Daegu also… he struggled, too. He gets it - and I think that’s why he was harder on Namjoon and the rest of the group, because he thought they made me soft. That’s also why he’s the best choice for this song, though,” he mutters, dropping his head against the back of the chair.

“Isn’t Namjoon an artist, too? Won’t he understand that?” she points out.

“He -” Yoongi sighs. “He might. He’ll never stop me from doing this, if that’s what I want. None of them will.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

It should be obvious, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to say anything other than, “It’s complicated.”

There’s a pause during which he looks up and sees her still looking away, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, almost in satisfaction. Her words from a little while ago ring, and he concludes that she’s still miffed with his persistence.

“Hey.” Yoongi reaches forward towards her; hooking his hand under the seat of her chair, he pulls it towards him. It works; despite the fact that she turns to look at him like it’s a massive effort, there’s a softness that’s returned. The arms of their chairs are touching, and they’re closer than they’ve been all night.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” he admits. Miso nods before leaning forward and kissing him.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed without either of them being taken by surprise, or in secret with the fear of being found out. Yoongi hasn’t cut his hair since the last leg of his tour; a pleasant shiver runs down his spine when her fingers brush against the ends at the nape of his neck.

The last thing he wants is to rush this. In the absence of anything else in their way, the kiss is slow and exploratory, with an air of relief that Yoongi knows is not one-sided. He squeezes her knee and she gets up off her chair; without breaking the kiss, slides onto his lap, straddling him with a comfortable weight.

Yoongi wraps an arm around her waist, holding her face to his as gently as he can as her shoulder-length locks brush against his cheek. She sighs into his mouth and his heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t pull away. He can’t imagine it. She smells of something that vaguely reminds him of jasmine but still feels expensive, and he pulls her even closer.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs against his lips, “is that your phone in your front pocket?”

Yoongi freezes, realising a second later that his phone is indeed vibrating in his front pocket. “Among other things,” he mutters, regretfully pulling away slightly and fishing it out of his pocket. His heart sinks when he sees Bang PD’s name flashing on the screen.

“You need to take that,” she tells him, reading the screen upside-down. She moves her torso back and shakes her hair out of her face and off her neck. “And I… I need to get home.”

His phone is still ringing. “Do you want me to drop you home?” he asks as she climbs off his lap.

She gives him a small smile. “Thanks. But Seungkwan is here, so he can…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

Fifth ring. Yoongi closes his eyes - he needs to take this call. He stands up and reaches the door, hesitating before opening it. There’s a lot that needs to be said and done, but nothing comes to mind. A moment later, Yoongi realises only one of them really matters.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks, his hand on the door handle.

“Yes, you will,” she confirms, already starting to pack up the electronics. Her nonchalance is betrayed by the small smile widening a bit. “Now take that damn call, Min Suga.”

He chuckles and nods. “See you tomorrow, Kang Miso,” he says, before stepping out of the studio and answering his phone.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: myg #type: series

67 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

"i'm picturing a polaroid" lmao in taehyung's rooooooooooooooooooooooom or maybe even his lockscreen teehee

jungkook.... jungkook.... im afraid that what you heard is "you should get a lip piercing" and that is..... not in fact what she said

did she move their seats lfaisjfioajfusahf i love her

ehhhhhhhhhhhhh i do NOT LIKE THE VIBES!!! THE VIBES!!! ARE BAD!!!

ohhhhhhhhh jeon jungkook i am sooooooo sorry but i am going to have to politely ask you to fuck off because your motivations - perhaps subconsciously!!! - are not fucking great!!!

UGHHHHHH that was some game-playing bullshit but i love them :(

wellllllllllllllllllll. i hope they talk about this :( can't have a minute of peace, huh

Fever Dream (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dressed in vintage Chanel, your and Taehyung's messy past comes back to haunt you.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (feat. Jungkook)

Genre: Some fluff, angst

Word count: 9.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a little over a month after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "free fallin'" by john mayer

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara [11:40] Hey babe. Reached?

Tae [11:40] Just about. Wow, it’s been really long since I’ve been to one of these. Forgot how chaotic it is.

Dilara [11:41] Tell me about it. Everyone’s impossibly good-looking.

Tae [11:42] Really? Did you just walk by a mirror or something?

Dilara [11:42] Save some of that charm for tonight, pretty boy.

Tae [11:43] See you in a few, pretty girl.

Dilara slips into the ladies’ room facing the mirror over the basins and exhaling. The flight and drive were long enough, but she seems to be the only person showing signs of it. It helps to have Taehyung nearby, though, even if actual time together seems limited.

She needs to be back out there, though, letting the crew know and get started on whatever PR they have planned. Fluffing out her curly hair and noting how the curls seem to have set nicely for once, she rummages in her bag for a last minute spritz of perfume and swipe of lipstick.

As she searches, one of the stalls behind her opens and she hears the sound of another sigh. It’s gratifying, she reflects, to not be the only one feeling overwhelmed.

“It’s quite a crowd outside.”

Dilara chuckles, finally locating the tiny travel-size bottle of Zara’s Nude Bouquet and taking off the cap. “Tell me about it,” she mutters, straightening up and spraying it on her neck and the inside of her wrists. “Felt like I needed to escape.”

The other girl laughs lightly, and Dilara glances at her in the mirror. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders but she looks familiar - Dilara immediately thinks of Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend and the image sticks.

“I get that,” she agrees, and her voice is soft, almost musical. “Wow, that’s a nice scent. Where is it from?”

“Oh, it’s Zara.” Without thinking anything of it, Dilara offers it to her. “Want to try?”

The girl straightens up as well and turns to her - it’s not Charles’s girlfriend - and gasps mildly. “It’s such a coincidence - I think I packed my cosmetics in the wrong bag and they all reached my hotel. You really don’t mind?”

Dilara shakes her head wordlessly. Impossibly good-looking. But she can’t look away.

Jennie smiles gratefully and takes the slim bottle, spraying it in the same spots Dilara did and returning it. “Thank you. It’s been a long flight.”

“And a long drive from the airport.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You look kind of familiar, by the way. I’m picturing a Polaroid… I feel like we’ve met?”

“Oh, uh…” Dilara shakes her head, turning back to this basin to wash her hands, barely able to feel the cool water. “No. We haven’t.”

“Oh. I’m Jennie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dilara.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where is it -” A phone ringing interrupts her and she winces, apologetically checking her phone. “Sorry, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight.”

Dilara forces half a smile. “Maybe.”

Jennie gives her a small wave and leaves. For a moment, nothing happens. Dilara fluffs out her hair and checks her phone out of habit before frowning, realising she can’t remember if she washed her hands. The water feels cooler now and she squeezes out some of the floral-smelling lotion next to soap, rubbing it over her hands.

It’s time to head out. The impossibly good-looking people aren’t going anywhere and Dilara is technically working. As she reaches the door, her phone buzzes.

Tae [11:50] Can you tell me where you are? I need to talk to you.

—

It seems likely to be a huge event. The marquee spans what looks like half an acre at least, under which two dozen tables with designer chairs and sparkly, minimalist place settings are spread out. Flex boards are strategically placed with who are probably the most famous Korean celebrities in attendance, the low stage is a shiny black and the few non-Korean guests stick out, although not in an unpleasant way. The guest list and event decor is no surprise - it is a Samsung event after all.

Dilara spots Taehyung walking past a camera with Jimin, only the latter waving. He looks… distracted, despite the smooth and impassive expression. They stop under the shade where he takes off his sunglasses, frowning slightly in the afternoon sun. Her gaze falls lower, to the band of his trousers to his hand in his pockets, and the shape tells her they are balled into fists.

Dodging one of the impossibly good-looking people, this one a vaguely familiar person - probably an actress - Dilara stops some ways away from Taehyung and Jimin, directly opposite them. It won’t take long now, for his eyes are darting around anyway, until they find hers and his forehead clears.

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment before turning around and beginning to walk. She isn’t exactly sure where to; most of the signs are written in Korean with the English translations in smaller font.

But she continues without stopping, her pace mild and stance casual, her arms folded across her chest. Somewhere along the way, her peripheral vision catches Taehyung on the opposite side of the path, one hand still in his pocket as he saunters with grace.

They turn together, coincidentally, down a path to a huge trailer. The gigantic Big Hit logo, combined with the confidence with which Taehyung strides in, tells her exactly whose it is. Few staff members scatter as he pushes open the door and stands aside to let her in, not speaking until it’s closed and they’re alone.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but pauses, as though changing tacks at the last second. “Hi,” he says, a hint of a smile spreading across his features.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, she recalls only now. “Hey,” she replies, although it comes across as a bit of a sigh.

He steps towards her, a bit hesitant, before placing one arm around her waist and gently bringing her to him and hugging her. He kisses her on the cheek. “Missed you,” he whispers, his lips on her hair.

Dilara’s hands go around him automatically, but it’s hard to focus. Or there’s too much focus - she can’t tell. It takes her a moment, but she nods into his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the first whiffs of his Sauvage, always the best ones.

“Missed you, too,” she murmurs. Her hands tighten around his t-shirt, momentarily clutching them tight before she forces herself to step away.

Taehyung touches her cheek, allowing himself another fond gesture before dropping his hand to his side. He glances at the floor and for a brief fraction of a second, a pit of fury takes form in her stomach.

It disappears almost instantly, though. Taehyung swallows and looks up. “Look, I have to tell you something. When we reached and got out of the car, there was a short briefing and one of the producers mentioned that -“

“Jennie is here.”

Taehyung’s face goes slack. “Wait, you knew? How? Did Calvin Klein tell you or was it like a - how do you say it? A memo?”

“Calvin Klein is not going to send anyone a memo of Jennie’s travel plans. No, I - I ran into her in the ladies’ room,” she answers. He doesn’t respond immediately and Dilara bites her lip; she feels like she should say more.

“You… ran into her?” Taehyung’s voice is almost hushed. “Like, you saw her or -“

“I stood next to her. We talked about how long our flights were and then she borrowed my perfume.”

Dilara can’t blame Taehyung for looking slightly incredulous. It sounds like a fever dream when she says it out loud. Wildly, it occurs to her that for the next few hours at least, she and Jennie Kim will smell the same.

Evidently, he decides not to probe. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

“Because… I swear, I had no idea she would be here.”

“I know.”

“If I did, I would’ve told you as soon as I -“

“I know. I believe you.”

His eyes flicker and the relief is unmissable. “Good,” he murmurs.

Dilara looks away, anywhere; the look in his eyes, of anxiety, worry, guilt - it’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to go down right now. There’s no place in her mind right now, or in her heart, for anything more than the effort to not make this a big deal.

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I need to meet my team and then they have me selecting a dress or something for tonight.” She moves to leave.

His response is immediate. “Lara, are you -”

“I am,” she interrupts, not turning around but stopping in her tracks. “Look, it’s…” It’s weird. It feels like the understatement of the year, or it should be, but she truthfully can’t think of what else it is. “It’s fine,” she says finally, looking back at him briefly. He looks concerned and it’s not what she wants to see. “You’re… all in the same industry. And we’ve moved on.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Okay. Will, uh… will we see each other before the event?”

Dilara shrugs. “Depends. You’ll probably have to get ready here,” she guesses, and his shoulders falling tell her she’s correct. “Tonight. Later.” Before he can respond, she leaves.

—

Jungkook [13:30] Okay wait. What about these? [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture]

Dilara [13:31] Um I dunno. The second looks fine.

Jungkook [13:31] Really? It’s not too extra?

Dilara [13:32] Facial piercings are the definition of extra.

Jungkook [13:32] Well that’s why I want a subtle eyebrow piercing. It can’t just be about the tattoos all the time.

Dilara [13:33] Fine, so second.

Jungkook [13:34] Reallyyyyy? I kinda liked the third.

Dilara [13:34] Then go with the third. It’s your face, not mine. Well, yours and Big Hit’s. Are they really okay with their chocolate boy going emo punk right after tour?

Jungkook [13:35] Fuck them. It’s my choice. So third? Actually what do you think about the fourth? With the sapphire stud?

Dilara sighs and lowers her phone. Jungkook’s indecisiveness, while sometimes endearing, is not something she can appreciate right now. It had taken all her will and ability to compartmentalise to get through her video segment a little while ago: Off Track: Get Ready with Dilara Komyshan!

She still has hours to get ready; the filming made no sense. Neither does the layout of the ground, in her opinion, for there are people arriving from three different entry points. It seems stupid and not very well thought out at all, and Dilara just knows it will cause confusion once the event actually begins.

Taking a sip of the canned grapefruit drink she’d picked up from one of the tables, she winces. It’s sugary sweet and, she suspects, not even real fruit. But there were no other options and she was thirsty. Looking around to check if the coast is clear, she tosses it into a nearby bin. Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes.

Damn it, Jungkook. Just get the damn piercing.

Jungkook [13:38] Still there? I was thinking, maybe you were right about the second. Oxidised silver is kind of classic and really makes the whole thing stand out. What do you think?

Dilara [13:40] You know, I really don’t think I’m the best person to advise you here. When I was in school, I had a thing for guys with lip piercings, so what do I know?

Just as she navigates away from WhatsApp, she hears a rustle and whips around.

“Sorry!” A young man, carrying a laptop, two clipboards and a cup of coffee stumbles into her little alcove away from the main event. He says something else in Korean before looking up and noticing her, and his eyes flash in recognition. “Dilara Komyshan!” he blurts out, his face slightly red.

“Uh, yes -” She darts forward to catch his cup as it slips out of his hand, no doubt saving it from spilling all over his clean white trousers.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes, panting slightly. “It’s been a crazy day and I’ve fucked up - oh, God, I think I’m going to get fired today!” He dumps his belongings onto a table between them and shakes his head, apparently inviting himself to her solitary rendezvous.

If Dilara had to guess, he sounds Canadian. Not knowing if she’s meant to respond, she nods in what she hopes is a sympathetic way, hoping he’s busy enough to leave soon. To her surprise, he leans back against a tree on the other side of the table and fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dilara’s fingers twitch unexpectedly. “Mind if I bump one?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You smoke?”

Shit. “It’s been a crazy day for me, too,” she confesses. “Maybe we can keep each other’s fuck-ups between us?”

He half-chuckles and offers the pack to her. “Dan,” he says, handing her a lighter as well.

“Dilara.” She lights her cig and takes a drag, returning the lighter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The nicotine feels a bit stifling on a sunny afternoon, but there’s something mildly comforting about it, too. The only downside of it, she realises, is that it’s opened the door for this Dan individual to take her quip to heart and begin baring his soul to her.

“It’s ridiculous, honestly,” he vents passionately, “because they really shouldn’t give access to things to one person, you know? Not when that person doesn’t understand responsibility or - or commitment to a team, and quits a week before an event. Who does that? Right? I mean - you of all people would understand,” he declares, pointing to her suddenly. “You’re in Red Bull - wouldn’t you commit to your team until the very end?”

Dilara stares, unsure how she’s expected to answer, for Christian Horner would probably tear up her contract and eat the pieces if Max Verstappen demanded it.

“I - sure. Yeah.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head, his face still red. “It’s just really overwhelming. There’s a lot to do and we’re one guy short and… God, I don’t even want to get into what happened earlier today.”

He pauses, as though waiting for her to ask. Dilara, looking straight ahead, doesn’t take the bait, silently taking another drag. Next to her, Dan is almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming more flustered than ever.

“Someone accidentally wiped out the version history of our seating chart after making changes to it - bam, it’s out there.” He says the whole thing very quickly and exhales shakily. “And it could… technically be considered my fault - and only technically - because I was the last one to use it but if you really think about it, it’s - it’s really poor planning because - I mean, Google Sheets? In this day and age? And the only person who knew it by heart and - and who was in charge of it - quit last week. With no warning. And now we’re having to wing it, which brings me back to the whole teamwork thing, so you tell me, you know. Who is really at fault…”

Dilara presses her fingers to her temple, wishing he would leave, for this isn’t worth the clandestine cigarette. He continues venting and she tries to tune him out.

“You’re table six, though, right?” His somewhat frantic voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I wasn’t told what table I’d be at,” she mutters, glancing at him to see him peering into his laptop screen. The brightness is at full blast and she can see a Google Sheet open, the first two cells labelled “이름/Name” and “테이블/Table” with numerous names written similarly in Korean and English, and all the table numbers in Arabic numerals. She recognises some names: Kim Namjoon stands out, as does Jang Wonyoung, Sydney Sweeney, Jennie Kim…

“Oh, God - it’s frozen!”

Dan hammers at the refresh button but the cursor turns into a blue circle and he makes a choking sound between a cry and a groan. At that moment, his phone rings and he visibly gulps at the screen. “I have to - I have to take this,” he stutters to no one in particular, answering it and backing away, raising a hand to Dilara in apology before disappearing.

Dilara raises her eyebrows and mimics his movement, privately glad for a moment of peace. She can’t listen to his complaints about the event any longer. It seemed like an excruciatingly boring event from the beginning and she’s already rather preoccupied, thinking of all the practice on the SIM she could have squeezed in this weekend if it weren’t for this stupid event.

The laptop screen is unrelentingly bright; blinking a bit, she taps the key to lower it. Frowning, she moves the mouse to see it working perfectly. Rolling her eyes, she leans to the side to look for Dan.

“Mate, your screen is responding again,” she says, but there’s no answer. In fact, she can’t even hear him anymore.

Maybe he jumped, Taehyung would say, seriously and without expression, maintaining it even when others would chuckle.

She scrolls absently to search for his name. Cha Eunwoo, Alia Bhatt, Jeon Jungkook… she spots her own name, a brief moment of relief to see she will have at least one familiar face at her table. Then, a little while later, Kim Taehyung.

He had looked so… concerned for her today. Anxious. All the casual confidence he’d retained for the rest of the world had fallen away to reveal the moments of vulnerability he reserved for her. She can’t recall at this moment how it usually makes her feel, for today, she couldn’t turn away fast enough.

Dan returns a minute later, just as Dilara is leaving.

“Thanks for the cig,” she says, giving him a small wave.

“You’re welcome. Oh - it’s working again!” He lets out a low whistle, running his finger across the mousepad. “Thank God. Well - it was really nice to meet you. Big fan.”

“You, too. Good luck with your seating chart.”

—

It’s late afternoon when the guests begin assembling by the grounds, everyone poised to make an entrance on the “pink carpet”, a peach-coloured path curving towards the marquee. The sky is a melange of grey and pink and orange, a very light breeze giving the event the vibe of an upscale wine-tasting.

Taehyung, dressed in an off-white linen suit with his hair left loose and freshly washed so it may “go where the wind pleases” (his stylist’s words, not his), speaks into a mic as he answers the interviewer’s questions, glancing occasionally into the camera as he does.

“And will you be hoping to meet any friends here tonight?” the interviewer asks chirpily.

“Of course - I’ve already seen many people I know here, so I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tonight.” He smiles after this perfunctory, scripted answer, before giving her a nod of acknowledgement and making way for the next celebrity behind him.

It had been the company’s idea to have them make separate entrances, given Seokjin and Yoongi were not attending, so as to not make the group look smaller. As he heads inside, waving at some of the cameras and some lucky fans who’ve managed to get access to the outer areas of the grounds, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the crowd and the guests, hoping to spot Dilara.

They haven’t seen each other since their fleeting moment earlier today. He had managed to maneuver a way out of one of their filmings to head back to the hotel, hoping they would cross paths before she had to get ready. While she had left him a short message saying she would try, evidently the timings hadn’t worked out and they’d missed each other.

At least, Taehyung hopes it was the timings. He can’t exactly blame Dilara for being a little on edge today, possibly a little distant, but the only solution he can come up with is to be with her, be there for her, maybe show her however he can that she doesn’t need to be on edge at all.

She hasn’t arrived yet, though; a little disappointed, Taehyung turns his attention to the artfully adorned tables, realising he has no idea which one to sit at.

“Check the name cards.” Jimin sidles up next to him and points at the thick cards in little tents at every seat, anywhere between six and ten at each table.

“Found mine,” says Namjoon, who’d entered a minute before Taehyung, holding up a card at a table right in the front. “Hobi’s is here, too.”

“Hang on, are we all not together?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular, frowning.

From behind him, another idol shakes his head, overhearing the question. “Nah, doesn’t look like it,” says Chan, peering at the name cards as well. “They probably don’t want to draw attention to idol groups, I guess?”

People are starting to take their seat, having to check name cards everywhere. A few people who look like they are event management have scurried over, helping guests, the whole thing becoming slightly chaotic.

Taehyung finds himself hoping that he and Dilara might be at the same table, if it’s indeed at random. He begins searching for both their names, but Jimin gets there first.

“Found Dilara,” he mouths, catching Taehyung’s eye meaningfully. “Oh, and Jungkook is at this table, too,” he adds in a regular volume.

“Anyone else?” Taehyung asks hopefully, trying not to be too disappointed when Jimin shakes his head. He counts it lucky that Dilara still has Jungkook, at least one familiar face at an event that’s mostly strangers to her.

Jungkook isn’t here yet either; he’d be recording a demo with Yoongi in the hotel room despite the latter not attending the event, and would probably reach just in time for it to start.

“Oh, wait - Jimin!” Taehyung calls, holding up a card. “Here’s yours.”

“Oh, great. Who else is here… dude, so are you!” Almost diametrically opposite the circular table, Jimin holds up a card with Taehyung’s name. “Awesome!”

Taehyung grins and they high-five at waist-level before taking their seats, Jimin continuing to scan the other cards. “I don’t know who this is… oh, this is the actress from Snowdrop, right? I think it is… and - oh.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung, and it’s an expression Taehyung immediately takes note of.

“What?”

“Do you know who else is at this table?” he asks in a hushed voice, leaning over and glancing at the entrance surreptitiously.

Taehyung knows before Jimin subtly turns the card towards him, with the name of a guest to be seated directly between both of them. Jennie Kim, the card reads, equally calligraphic in Hangul and English.

There’s an announcement of some kind, a muffled voice asking guests to take their seats quickly. Taehyung turns towards the entrance, his heart somewhere near his stomach and jerking uncomfortably, hoping to see Dilara and wondering if he can signal to her to meet him… his eyes dart around, a bit frantic. It takes him a moment to realise another familiar face is making its way… in his direction.

“Taehyung hyung.” Jungkook strides over and taps his shoulder, motioning for him to get up, stepping away from the table. Taehyung meets Jimin’s eyes briefly, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook presses his tongue to his teeth. “Do you know -” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, “- that your ex-girlfriend is here?”

“Yes,” he answers instantly. “And I can do you one better. Do you know where she’s -”

Jungkook interrupts him. “Does Dilara know?”

Taehyung stops abruptly. “Uh, yeah. I told her this morning. Or - I guess she already knew….” He trails off when he finally sees Dilara enter along with the last few guests, finding her table almost instantly. His shoulders relax when she catches his eye; he gives her the most subtle smile he can, knowing there are cameras around that could be capturing his any and every move. To his surprise and relief, she returns his look with a small smile. “Listen -”

“Holy shit,” whispers Jungkook, looking at something over Taehyung’s shoulder. He smiles briefly and gives a small wave before turning back to him. “She’s at your table?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Apparently. Look, it’s a coincidence from hell, but can you do me a favour? You and Lara are the same table - can you just tell her -”

“How?”

“How - what?” Taehyung frowns, realising by now that they are one of the few people still standing. “What do you think coincidence means? I didn’t have any part in this - but can you just please tell her that I’m sorry anyway? I’ll still text her, but… please.”

Jungkook, who seems to be regretting his momentary outburst, nods wordlessly before turning around and heading over to his table, sitting only one seat away from Dilara, both of them giving each other extremely perfunctory, polite camera-ready smiles of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tries, once more, to turn around and catch Dilara’s eye but when Jimin hisses his name under his breath, he’s forced to look ahead as the host arrives on stage. There’s some applause and introductory jokes being made; it’s not a lot he can do to avoid it, not when there are cameras around or when the seating arrangement is so awesomely fucked that the moment he turns his head even slightly to his right, he meets Jennie’s eyes.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giving him a formal sort of smile. “How are you?”

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he can pretend to have not heard her. But even the thought is absurd. “I’m good,” he replies, nodding. “And you?”

She nods in response and the small talk comes to a natural end, at least for now. The event may as well be happening in French for all the focus that Taheyung devotes to it; choosing his moments, he tries to subtly turn his head to look back at Dilara’s table again. At one point, he sees her chatting with the person next to her, the captain of South Korea’s football team. It makes him feel slightly better that she has company; next to the footballer, Jungkook cranes his neck slightly towards them, as though trying to keep up with the conversation.

Somewhere during one of the musical performances, Taehyung feels his phone buzz. He opens it to see the group chat.

Namjoon [18:17] Taehyung. Cut it out.

Taehyung [18:18] What?

Namjoon [18:18] Turning around to look at Dilara. It’s very noticeable.

Taehyung [18:19] Shit. Sorry. How can you tell, though? Your table is in front of mine.

Hoseok [18:20] Because only Namjoon has figured out a way to turn around and look at something behind him without being obvious about it.

Taehyung [18:20] Sorry. A bit on edge.

Jimin [18:20] Lol. No surprise there.

Taehyung [18:20] Shut up. Can you tell if Dilara is looking?

Jimin [18:21] She isn’t. Jungkook is, though. Probably hasn’t checked his phone yet.

Seokjin [18:22] What is up with all the texts? I’m trying to take a nap.

Jimin [18:22] Taehyung is sitting next to Jennie while Dilara is at a different table.

Seokjin [18:22] What!

Taehyung [18:23] Not what it sounds like. Jesus. Our assigned seats are next to each other.

Hoseok [18:23] Dilara is going to kill you.

Taehyung [18:24] No, she isn’t. She’s not crazy - she knows this is out of my control.

Yoongi [18:25] Hell of a coincidence to be out of your control.

Seokjin [18:26] No kidding. This is k-drama level coincidental. Next thing you know, the camera pans to your mortal enemy slipping a wad of cash into a waiter’s hand.

Namjoon [18:27] We may be going off topic here. Taehyung - be careful, though. If anyone gets a single shot of you and Jennie sitting together, it’ll start rumours without a doubt again. And you know YG won’t deny them.

Taehyung pauses, for this hasn’t occurred to him. Not that it’s some kind of epiphany - rumours are a daily battle, almost - but today, Dilara has been his sole focus throughout.

He meant what he said: his girlfriend is a reasonable person who, despite some expected discomfort with the situation, is not the kind of filmy exaggeration they were hinting at. But the fact that this might make its way back to social media again, a year and a half after the world has lost interest, following Dilara wherever in the world she goes… he recalls the lowest points of their relationship, looks of heartbreak and betrayal that still haunt him to this day, and his throat feels momentarily tight.

Taehyung [18:28] I will deny them. You can be sure of that.

“Camera!”

Jennie’s voice hisses next to him, almost making him jump out of his skin. He slips his phone under his thigh in a swift movement, eyes ahead and immediately bopping his head to the music to avoid whatever rubbish headline the wrong picture could lead to: BTS V insults rookie girl group by checking phone during performance!

“Thanks,” he mutters, seeing her nod from the corner of his eye.

As the night progresses, Taehyung makes his attempts to look back at Dilara more subtle but no less frequent. He succeeds a couple of times, too, once even managing to make eye contact with her. Her expression is unreadable, though, and he begins wondering if this is truly bothering her, how much it is, and how there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

It’s a break in the program, during which a few people are going back and forth to the rest rooms, getting their hair and make-up retouched and doing impromptu spot interviews. Taehyung and the rest of the group have been advised by the staff via text to not leave their seats; as he looks around, it seems as though most people are in a similar boat.

He turns around to look at Dilara, only to see her seat vacant and - to his surprise - Jungkook staring back at him, brows furrowed. He frowns curiously but the younger member looks away in an instant. Taehyung wonders briefly if he imagined it; raising his eyebrows and shrugging it off, he unlocks his phone.

Taehyung [19:00] Hey, love. I know this night probably isn’t what you had in mind after three weeks apart. It definitely isn’t mine. I promise I’ll make this trip worth it, though. I really missed you.

Biting his lip, he sends the message. He waits for a few seconds for a reply, turning around to check the door. She eventually returns, catching his eye and giving him the same small smile she’d given him at the beginning of the event, as though they were lounging around in his apartment instead. She says something to Jungkook when the anchor begins speaking again, signalling the end of the break.

Lara [19:02] Missed you too

Taehyung stares at the message, not sure what to make out of it. He’s sensing some distance from her; it’s not unexpected and he wishes more than anything that he’d been able to talk to her, just once, before everyone had taken their seats. He turns around briefly again, hoping Jungkook relayed his message to her.

“Shit,” Jennie mutters next to him. Catching his eye momentarily, she tilts her phone under the table towards him. Taehyung’s heart sinks at the picture, taken from a distance, of the two of them watching the stage, their heads tilted in the same angle.

It’s a normal picture, with at least ten other people in the same frame including Jimin; but the incriminating red circle drawn into the picture makes it clear what the focus is. The fact that it’s already on Instagram makes his stomach roll with worry and guilt, and he hopes, desperately hopes, that it won’t affect Dilara after all this time.

“Tabloids will start their thing,” she adds, shaking her head. “The company will be so annoyed. What about Big Hit?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, after a moment. He hasn’t thought about it; Namjoon mentioned it in caution and here he was, correct as usual. Big Hit would be annoyed; a recycled rumour, micro-expressions getting dissected and heartbroken fans spamming their social media - none of these were desired during an ongoing tour.

Taehyung knows it’s a headache and if not handled properly, could escalate. It could impact concert attendance, merchandise sales, fan-meets… but these are just words right now, swimming in his head in a faint voice that sounds like their manager’s. Bigger than all that, in the forefront of his mind is only Dilara, once again forced to remember the worst period of their relationship.

“I can’t believe this seating,” he mutters. “I thought the bigger the event, the more tuned in they would be to… stuff like this.” He gives her a sideways glance.

But Jennie gives him a small shake of the head. “I doubt it’s on purpose. I heard there was some confusion with the tables anyway… their system was down or something.”

“Feels irresponsible.” Then he sighs. “No offence.”

She half-chuckles under her breath and locks her phone. “None taken. It’s been over a year, anyway. I don’t think there’s a single person who remembers or cares about our fling anymore.”

It’s almost compulsive now; he turns around again. Dilara’s eyes are fixed on the stage, though, but he takes a moment to watch her anyway, feeling every variation of guilt and anxiety and adoration when he thinks of how her evening might be going.

“Is that Jungkook?” Jennie whispers next to him. “I should say hi later. Oh, I met the girl sitting next to - oh, shit.” She clicks her tongue softly in apparent recognition. “That’s where I know her from - she did the sportswear campaign for Calvin Klein last month. Dilara Komyshan, the race car driver,” she states. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise her before - I must really need some sleep…”

There is something inexplicably strange about hearing Dilara’s name come out of Jennie’s mouth. He expects Dilara would find it even stranger; he bites his lip and faces the front again.

“… do you know her?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but evidently his silence and laser focus on the glass in front of him is enough explanation.

“Oh,” says Jennie softly, and Taehyung’s heart crumbles a little, suddenly horribly, terribly afraid that everything would be ruined again.

The performance on the stage ends and there’s applause. Taehyung claps automatically, without feeling. Next to him, Jennie turns her head slightly towards him.

“I only met her for a minute… but she seems really sweet. And very pretty.” She gives him a small smile. “Lucky guy.”

—

When the event ends and the anchor announces the dinner being hosted in the hotel restaurant, everyone begins heading out of the marquee and back down the carpet. There are some quick interviews and pictures, mostly of celebrities ducking into cars and leaving. Taehyung hopes he can skip the dinner - or at least make an appearance, have half a drink and be done with it.

Namjoon [19:50]

Group vlive in 20. Yoongi’s room.

He closes his eyes; the last thing he feels like doing is pretending to be chipper for a camera, while staff members stand behind it and cue reactions out of them. But the message is in the group chat, meaning the set-up is probably already done, and any interaction with Dilara will unfortunately have to wait.

Taehyung could yell; it’s bad enough that this weekend threw this unnecessary curveball at them but the constant interruptions are getting on his nerves. The impending rumours, the company’s reaction (fuck the company, he thinks irritably), the faraway tables - anything and everything under the sun to try and distract him from the only thing he cares about.

He doesn’t want to drop her another text to tell her about his plans; he has to meet Dilara now, actually be face to face, see her, hold her hand and talk to her before he does anything else, even if it’s only for a few seconds.

Taehyung [19:53] Hey. Where are you?

He waits a minute but she doesn’t respond. Unwilling to wait, he starts to call her when he finally spots her across the room, standing with three other people, all of them listening to a tall Caucasian and vaguely familiar man in a suit. Dilara has a glass of champagne in her hand and is a complete knockout; elegant in a short cream dress, she reduces him to staring for a good few seconds before he remembers where he is.

Almost as though she’s heard him, her eyes flicker a bit and meet his. His heart skips a beat; as he steps forward, she gives him that same small smile and shakes her head infinitesimally. She slips her phone out of her small clutch and turns away to type, a few seconds before his phone buzzes.

Lara [19:55] Have to stay for dinner. Meet you upstairs later. xo

The disappointment starts to settle into his stomach but he steels himself; they’re both working and if she says she’ll see him upstairs, then there’s nothing much else he can do except hope that her nonchalant demeanour isn’t a facade she’s putting up for him.

The vlive is a chaotic one for which Taehyung is glad; he’s preoccupied but there’s enough happening without the focus landing on him. Seokjin and Yoongi, both of whom managed to worm their way out of attending the event, are still at the hotel, the only two in t-shirts and joggers. Taehyung checks his phone constantly, wondering when Dilara will be back, only occasionally smiling and throwing in a comment here and there so he can’t be accused of slacking off.

“Alright, have a good one.” Namjoon waves and heads towards his room on the other side of Yoongi’s. Waving back, Jungkook and Taehyung head towards theirs, a two bedroom suite they’re sharing with Jimin, conveniently to allow for Dilara to stay over.

“What a fuckall night,” mutters Taehyung, kicking off his shoes by the front door and shrugging off his linen jacket. He checks his phone again: no new messages.

“What were you thinking?”

Taehyung opens the mini fridge and takes out a small bottle of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. “About what?” he asks without looking up, mixing himself a drink.

“You know what.” Jungkook says no more until Taehyung finally turns to look at him, frowning. “You were sitting with - with Jennie. All night.” He shakes his head. “Come on - you have to know what that looked like.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care what social media thinks. They overanalyse everything to death, anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not them. I’m talking about Dilara.”

His heart jerks momentarily. “Did she say something?”

“She - she didn’t have to,” he stutters. He looks quite nervous. “I could see her face - she was sitting right next to me.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. “And what did her face look like?” he asks deliberately, for the accusatory note in Jungkook’s voice is now unmistakeable.

“I - well, she looked… not happy,” he answers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. While Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on him, Jungkook’s keeps flickering away. “She kept looking over at you two and… I mean, it’s obvious, right? Of course she wouldn’t like it.”

“She would also know, though, that it was a coincidence,” he retorts, calm yet unable to keep the bite out of his words. “And that I definitely didn’t know about it - which, by the way, I asked you to tell her. Did you?”

Jungkook hesitates. “Of course, I did. I’m just saying… you could’ve done something. You were talking to Jennie. Out, in the open with, like, no problem.”

“We were in public. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her when she spoke to me? Create a scene and ask to be moved to a different table?” Taehyung scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that would’ve turned out great.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not fair to -”

“How is it not the point? This situation was out of my control. I was texting Dilara the whole time - and she was responding. And she didn’t sound half as pissed off as you do,” he points out. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I made her a promise!” Jungkook blurts out, his ears turning red, eyes big and troubled.

“You made her a promise? What - today?”

“No, last year. Before you two got back together,” he says in a smaller voice, and Taehyung’s stomach drops. “I promised her I’d tell her if you ever did anything like that again.”

Taehyung is silent. The drink feels heavy in his hand but he doesn’t move. It feels strange, like a shift in the paradigm of his relationships, as though a glass wall has been lifted and they’re all further away than he thought.

Jungkook seems to have realised the implication of his words. “Not that… I thought you would ever do that again.” He sounds like he’s about to say more but stops abruptly.

It stings. The long days and nights spent atoning for what he’d done, the hopelessness at the end of every day in Europe that he’d probably lost her for good, all stacked against the voices of his friends telling him, convincing him he wasn’t a bad person and that if he tried, if he truly tried and stayed and loved, he would be worthy of a second chance.

As it turns out, they weren’t sure either. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He wonders if Dilara still thinks that, and feels his vision blur momentarily.

He clears his throat, slowly meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “Anything else?” he asks. “Since you made her a promise?”

“Taehyung hyung…”

But Taehyung continues staring him down, unmoving until Jungkook sighs.

“No,” he says quietly.

Taehyung nods and finishes the remainder of his drink. Without another word, he places the glass on the table and heads into his room, leaving Jungkook outside.

—

The dinner goes on longer than Dilara would have liked, but the CEO of Tag Heuer, Red Bull’s biggest sponsor, is not a guest she could have avoided face time with. Christian had even taken the trouble to drop her a message (Try to get a picture with Frederic for the PR team), so her options were fairly limited.

Using the spare room key Taehyung had sneaked her during a brief, five second long interaction this afternoon, she enters the suite and goes straight into the room with the door closed. It’s empty at first glance, but the faint scent of nicotine directs her to the balcony.

Taehyung is sitting on the cushioned bench, still in the shirt and trousers he was wearing for the event, looking slightly ruffled and smoking a cigarette. Dilara stops at the doorway and leans against it, stepping out of her heels and closing her eyes against the breeze.

“How was the dinner?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Boring,” she answers. She opens her eyes to see him still looking out of the balcony. “How was your night?”

He simply shrugs. “I’m sorry about the… the tables and the seating,” he says after a moment, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Dilara bites her lip. There’s a choice she can make now, and the second option can probably lead to salvaging the remainder of the night. But something about how he’s sitting, some distance away and instantly apologising, makes her go with the first.

“Well… if you can believe it…” She sighs and looks at the ground, suddenly a bit embarrassed to be saying it out loud, “it may not have been… a total coincidence.”

Taehyung frowns slightly at her and when she raises her eyebrows, silently asking him to understand without her having to say it, he scoffs lightly.

“Really?” His voice is soft, but the surprise is clear. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “You’d be surprised how lax the organisers were with information like this. Leaving open laptops around and venting to strangers…” She rolls her eyes.

He chuckles again softly. He takes a drag and flicks some ash from the cigarette, looking down, his smile fading before he speaks again. “Why?” he asks.

Dilara hesitates, her heart clenching slightly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I guess I just wanted to see…” She pictures the earlier hours of the evening, seeing her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend sitting next to each other, but doesn’t feel the familiar anger or betrayal anymore. In fact, she struggles to feel anything at all. “I don’t know,” she finishes.

Taehyung nods slowly but says nothing. He finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath.

“Are you angry?” she asks.

Still looking out, he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I don’t think I can be,” he says carefully.

Dilara swallows. “I suppose that’s true,” she agrees, a little defensively.

“How did I do, though?”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung turns to her, finally. “I mean… I’m guessing it was some kind of a test.” He shrugs. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

Dilara holds his gaze, realising with a slightly pang that it’s the first time they’ve spoken this long since this morning. “With flying colours,” she says softly.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. There’s a flicker in his eyes, probably of relief, before he looks away. Dilara knows with certainty, though, in this moment, that he really did pass whatever subconscious evaluation she had been putting him through.

Every single interaction she had spotted between him and Jennie, every quiet bit of small talk, artfully ignoring cameras, looking beautifully bored at an event that was far too long for everyone - it all came to a head in her mind. Dilara remembers exes she cares about, those she hates and those she is indifferent to. Today, despite Jennie being sat next to him and remaining truly and impossibly good-looking, Taehyung treated her like he would have anyone else in her place.

“Maybe I should’ve told you,” she muses, only half-intending to say it out loud.

“Wouldn’t have been much of a test if you had.” He tilts his head at her and tries to force a small smile, and she wonders if he seems sad.

“It wasn’t meant to be… a test like that. You don’t know what it’s like,” she adds in a smaller voice, feeling defensive again. “I was caught off guard and… it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He nods. “I understand.”

Dilara bites her lip. “I trust you,” she murmurs.

Taehyung says nothing at first; she knows how her words probably sound. “Thanks,” he says finally, very quietly, before looking back ahead. “You may want to let Jungkook know that, though.”

Dilara frowns at this unexpected segue. She wonders briefly if it’s a joke she isn’t getting. “Why would I let Jungkook know?” she starts to ask, but Taehyung beats her to it.

“I know I’m not really in a position to ask you anything, but can I anyway?” He waits for Dilara, still confused, to nod. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he says, “but if you are… can you please talk to me about it?”

She frowns; somewhere, her heart begins to race as she senses her control on the situation slipping. “I didn’t say anything to Jungkook,” she clarifies. “Not about this.”

Taehyung stares at her and her heart slows a bit as he registers her words, internalising them. He finally looks away and Dilara takes it to mean he believes her.

“Why would you even think that?” she asks. “Wait - did he say something to you?”

But Taehyung simply shakes his head and stands up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stops next to her on his way inside and touches her elbow. “I really am sorry.”

Dilara gazes up at him, even the slightest touch making her skin tingle. But something about the way he’s standing before her, apologetic almost by default, makes her heart ache.

“For what?” she asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Just… everything. I’m sorry.”

Dilara is sure she’s lost count of the number of times he’s said this to her, and it hits her now, during the one time he probably doesn’t need to.

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, okay?” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he kisses her cheek and brushes past her, going straight into the bathroom.

Dilara stays rooted in the same spot for a few minutes, feeling confused and awful. This hadn’t turned out at all the way she had hoped. She had been on her way here, feeling unexpectedly light and almost proud that she’d found a way to get a nagging question out of her head. But something has gone wrong, or fallen out of place, and she’s searching for it blind.

Opting to give him some space, she trudges out to the living room. Curling up on the sofa, still in her dress and make-up, she closes her eyes and wishes the night would end. She’s polishing off a bottle of water from the mini fridge a few minutes later to avoid a hangover when the other bedroom opens.

“Hey.” Jungkook, in track pants and nothing else, looks surprised to see her. “Just came to get my charger.”

Dilara, with her mouth full of water, gives him a tilt of her chin in response, barely looking up. The tiredness of the day has caught up with her, along with the emotional toll, and she rests her head against the side of the sofa and exhales. Taehyung is out of the shower by now, for the sound of the water running stopped nearly ten minutes ago, but Dilara isn’t sure she should go inside yet. There’s a bit of misplaced guilt in her, anger at the guilt, annoyance at the anger, and a craving for a cigarette she hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps slightly, having almost forgotten Jungkook was here. She hums listlessly in response, seeing him shuffle towards his room from the corner of her eye.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you say something to Taehyung?”

Jungkook pauses, but doesn’t look altogether surprised at her question. He glances at the floor and bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to… be so harsh, I guess. But I thought someone should say something.”

“About what?” she asks immediately, sitting up. “And what do you mean by someone? You mean someone other than me?”

“No! I just… I thought you looked kind of pissed off - which would make sense,” he adds quickly.

“Jungkook -” Dilara starts, then sighs and shakes her head, not sure where to begin. She can’t fathom what he might have said to Taehyung, but it’s becoming clear now that it’s most likely the cause for his distant demeanour.

“Look, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I felt like I had to,” explains Junkook, his voice low. “I promised you I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Dilara frowns, bewildered. He doesn’t answer, his shoulders falling slightly. A moment later, it comes back to her: a hotel room, a video game, and Jungkook learning the word insurance. “Right.” She sighs. “Jungkook… this is not what I meant. You don’t have to get involved in our - in our stuff. Okay? And you definitely don’t have to speak for me.”

He bites his lip and nods. “I was going to talk to him tomorrow anyway,” he mutters.

It does little to make Dilara feel better. He’s still not meeting her eyes, but Dilara wishes he would, because he needs to understand this. She waits until he looks up at her, hesitant and abashed.

“He’s your friend,” she reminds him. “He’s your friend.”

Jungkook’s eyes shutter over. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly reminiscent of Taehyung, and looks away.

Dilara sighs, regretting her choice of words immediately. “That’s not what I -” But she can’t get into this right now. Shaking her head, she goes back into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is dark but the moonlight from the closed balcony is light enough. Taehyung is in bed; Dilara scrutinises his face from where she’s standing, unable to tell if he’s really asleep or simply pretending. She heads into the bathroom and unzips her dress, stepping out of the pool of fabric and leaving it there on the ground. She picks up a faded t-shirt hanging on one of the hooks in the bathroom and slips it on, wrapping the comforting cotton around herself for a moment and inhaling it, before taking off her make-up and brushing her teeth.

Once she’s done, Dilara goes over to the empty side of the bed, pausing at the edge. If he’s angry, he’s forgiven her. She knows he has, just as she knows he will concede to her every single time when it comes to this issue, no matter his own feelings. It disappoints her a bit, although she doesn’t know what or who exactly she’s disappointed in.

She climbs onto the bed and inside the covers lightly, moving to lie beside him. He’s on his side, facing her, with a hand tucked under his cheek; she shifts to mirror him. Even in his sleep, he is so handsome that it takes her breath away. The moonlight softens his features slightly; Dilara touches his cheek with the tips of her fingers, somewhat glad he’s asleep, for she doesn’t know what she would say if he was awake.

It’s too tiring to think about it, though; the long flight she took to get here to Incheon feels like ages ago. She tilts her head up slightly and kisses his nose softly, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. When he doesn’t, she lowers her hand and turns around, closing her eyes and hoping for sleep to end this night.

A few moments later, his arm comes around her waist and pulls her close.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: kth #type: series

88 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

how i sleep at night knowing kaya and namjoon are together in the "future" fics:

“that if Jungkook has a shrine to his ex in his house, you can always move back in here.” - WHAT IF HE HAS A DILARA SHRINE ASOIJFIUASHFAUIHFUAIHFUIAWHFUIWEQHFUIWQHFIUB

WHO ARE THE TWO SINGLE MEMBERS WHO ARE THEYYYYYYYYYY WHO IS ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Words Unsaid (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: Jungkook has something he wants to ask you, but the timing just never seems to sit right.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.3 K

Warnings: none

A/N: This took longer than expected to post (but a surprisingly short amount of time to write). Savour it, for the angst will be back in full force next fic :D Takes place a couple of weeks after Unfinished Business and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @sumzysworld @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "thinking out loud" by ed sheeran

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

The sun is near setting when lunch comes to a natural end. Namjoon places his credit card on the bill out of habit and, somewhat conscious that it’s not just the two of them here, Jungkook drops his on top of it.

“All good, kid.” Namjoon good-naturedly flicks Jungkook’s credit card off the bill just before the waiter picks it up.

Feeling Lia’s eyes on him, vaguely amused, Jungkook feels his ears heat up and quickly pockets his credit card. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” he asks, desperate to change the topic.

“Not much.” He shrugs. “Probably pick up some stuff at this store we saw earlier today, then maybe a walk down the Han if it gets cooler…” He turns slightly as Kaya returns to her seat, fluffing out her hair a bit.

“Seoul has never been this warm, has it?” she remarks. “I’m glad I cut my hair before I came here.”

“It should rain soon,” answers Lia, in her accented English. While her grasp on the language hadn’t necessarily been a surprise to Jungkook, the way it sounded - and how much he liked it - definitely was. She hadn’t ever spoken much English around him, for there was never much of a need, but when Kaya visited and they’d finally met, Jungkook discovered he was obsessed with her English accent. It made her sound older, unattainable and - ironically – more Korean.

“Maybe it will,” says Namjoon, nodding and looking out the glass windows at the sunlight.

“Maybe it will while you’re walking down the Han river,” points out Jungkook.

“Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, that reminds me - can we make a detour home before we head to the market?” Kaya asks him. “I need to pick up my power bank. My phone’s almost dead.”

Namjoon nods. “Sure. You guys need a ride?” he asks Jungkook and Lia.

“Oh -” They exchange a look, for they were dropped by a company car after Jungkook finished filming a promo. “Actually, yeah,” says Lia, nodding. “We also need to stop by, uh, Jungkook’s house for a minute. You’ll want to change, I guess?”

Jungkook nods mutely, his neck getting hot again. He avoids Namjoon’s eyes; the older member’s subtle questioning a couple of days ago, about how serious is this getting, had been one thing. That, coupled with the abrupt way he and Lia had stopped talking when Jungkook had returned from the men’s room earlier during lunch, made him uneasily conscious that something was still unsaid.

They head out of the restaurant, waiting until Namjoon’s car is brought out by the valet before ducking inside quickly, Kaya in the driver’s seat and Namjoon in the passenger seat next to her. Jungkook notices a few phones out in the open and pointed towards them as they drive away.

“See you tomorrow!” Lia waves at them as they drive away from the porch of Jungkook’s building in Hannam-dong, where his new penthouse sits tucked into the top floor. As the car disappears around a corner, both of them turn around and head inside together.

In the lift, Jungkook watches the numbers increase, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip between his teeth. The words are there, somewhere, in moments at the tip of his tongue and in others, so far away that they may as well be someone else’s.

“Hey.”

He’s jerked out of his reverie. “Yeah.”

Lia is looking at him, frowning slightly. “Everything okay? You’ve barely said two words since we left.”

“I’m fine,” he answers as the lift stops and they step out, the doors opening right in front of his apartment. “I just, uh…” He pats his pockets and pauses. “... forgot my keys. I think. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters easily, reaching into her small sling bag for her own keyring and selecting the shiniest one. “This is when it helps to have a spare set with someone else,” she points out.

Jungkook nods sheepishly and steps aside so she can unlock the door to his home. “Actually, Lia…” He takes a deep breath as Namjoon’s face swims to the forefront of his mind, the familiar raised eyebrow and chin tilted upward that, irritatingly knowing but unwilling to give him the answer. No, he would want Jungkook to come up with the answer himself.

He clears his throat as Lia pauses. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering -” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Just say it. Say it. He makes the mistake of glancing at her again, her raised eyebrows and - to his slight anxiety - hopeful expression.

Shit.

“Would you, um… do you think you would you like to…”

Come on now, Jungkook, Namjoon would say sternly. Say it already.

“... try a beef bulgogi tonight? I know we usually do pizza on Sunday nights but I saw this recipe online and I really wanted to try it. Plus, we won’t even have to shop - we have that fillet in the freezer so part of the work is really already done, if you think about it…”

He’s rambling, he knows, but it’s only to try and distract himself from the annoyance at himself as well as the brief but clear disappointment in her expression. Her shoulders fall slightly and she bites her lip, turning back to the door and pushing it open halfway.

“Beef bulgogi sounds great,” she says finally, looking up at him after a moment’s hesitation, and giving him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He follows her inside, still deflated. Lia goes straight to the fridge for a bottle of cold water while he heads into his room, shedding his t-shirt on the way. Turning on the bathroom light, he grabs his facewash from the wall-mounted shelf, half-stocked with haircare products, face scrubs, masks, serums and a tub of scrunchies and claw clips. A Dior perfume he’d gifted her earlier this year was also there next to his own Calvin Klein cologne.

Realising he’s been staring at her belongings for over a minute with emulsified facewash on his face, he quickly scrubs it off and hurries out, passing by her chest of drawers next to the closets.

Jungkook wishes he wasn’t such a coward. He wishes he had the exact right words and that his mouth moved on its own to deliver the message to her. She’d helped him set up the apartment when he’d moved in last month; most of her belongings are here, she returns here more often than not after work, half the groceries in the pantry are stocked by her. She has a set of keys, she uses his extra parking space - but none of it matters as long as it’s still Jungkook’s house.

In the kitchen, Lia is standing by the counter with a bowl of watermelon in front of her, scrolling on her phone. She looks up when he enters.

“I cut the other half that was in the fridge,” she informs him. “Rest of it is inside.”

He swallows. “Thanks.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he would do without her. The house feels far too big and empty when she isn’t around and he wishes there were some way for her to get that message without him having to spell it out.

But if you do spell it out, comes Namjoon’s voice again, what’s the worst that could happen.

She could say no and then I could die, he thinks, shuddering.

He stands on the opposite side of the counter and leans over to examine the pink fruit. Lia raises an eyebrow and pops a piece into his mouth.

“Wow. Sweet,” he comments, voice slightly muffled.

She half-chuckles and nods, going back to her phone and taking a piece as well.

Say it. But is this really the moment? Does there need to be a moment? What would that moment even look like? What would she want that moment to -

“Kook,” says Lia, slowly placing her phone down. “I was thinking… I’ve been coming over here after work the last few days. And I’ll probably be here tomorrow as well, so…” She bites her lip.

“Yes,” whispers Jungkook breathlessly. If Lia were to ask the question - nothing like it. No chance of rejection, no scope for awkwardness. Of course, if any of the guys got wind of the fact that she had been the one to ask, they wouldn’t let him live it down, especially Jimin. Suddenly, he half-hopes she isn’t asking.

“Do you think it would be weird if, you know…”

Holy shit. Screw Jimin and his opinions. Despite a crappy first date a year ago, if this is really how far they’ve come since then, he should consider himself the luckiest man in the world. Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s heart begins to race.

“… if I went home on Monday evening? It’s been a while and I have an important meeting on Tuesday and all my blazers are at home so in a way, I have to…”

Jungkook nods mutely, barely hearing her, for his heart is hammering so loudly he can hear it in his teeth. It occurs to him that Lia might have been anticipating the same question and subsequently felt the same disappointment, and it only serves to make him feel worse.

“… take my car, too. Jungkook?”

He looks up warily, irrationally worried his shame might be written on his forehead for her to see, possibly triggering her to pull the plug on this entire thing, this whole relationship, to save herself the embarrassment of dating a silly pop star who can’t string six words together -

“Hm?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he chokes. “Thanks for the, uh, the fruit.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but there’s a flash of knowing in her eyes. Not wanting to decipher it, for there’s no telling where his mind will take him, he shakes his head slightly and leans forward, kissing her on the cheek.

It doesn’t end there. Later that evening, Jungkook is still reeling from his horrendous inability to pluck up the courage to ask his girlfriend a simple question. The general mood between them seems to have gone back to normal, somewhat, but it nags at the corner of his mind.

They are heading to the executive floor gym in his building, accessible only to the handful of residents on the top floor, when another opportunity seemingly presents itself.

It’s a glorious workout in one of the best gyms in the country; in fact, Jungkook is rather upfront about it being one of the main reasons he chose to buy a property in this particular building in Hannam-dong. Towards the end of a particularly difficult set of reps on the bench press station, Jungkook looks up to see a face, upside down and hovering above him.

“Shit!” he gasps, gripping the barbell tightly so it doesn’t fall on him.

Eunwoo grins. “What’s up? Wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“I could’ve died,” points out Jungkook, sitting up and giving him a friendly dap. “No, Lia wanted to work out, too, and it’s been a, uh… somewhat stressful day.”

“Yeah?” Eunwoo, also sweating and glowing, looks around the gym with his hands on his hips. “Lia is here? Oh, there she is…” He nods at the treadmills where she’s jogging fast, AirPods in and the rest of the world shut out.

They chat for a bit about nothing in particular, catching their breath. Somewhere during the conversation, while they’re at the water station and filling up tiny glasses with fruit-infused ice water, Jungkook wonders if the time has truly come to pick another’s brain. Eunwoo is a good friend and they’ve known each other a while, but it would be the first time he’s actively confided in someone else about his love life. From his experience, it could go either way.

While he’s pondering this, Eunwoo nods and flashes a smile at something over his shoulder.

“Hey, guys.” Lia walks over and pours herself a glass. Her skin pale and glowing, her cheeks flushed lusciously. The ends of her high ponytail stick to her damp collarbones and Jungkook bites his lip without thinking, ridiculously attracted to her at the moment.

“Noona, do you agree with JK’s plan of building a home gym?” Eunwoo asks, seamlessly continuing their discussion. “It’s going to be so much maintenance of equipment,” he tells him, shaking his head.

“Really?” Lia turns to Jungkook, frowning. “When did that happen? I thought you were happy with this gym.”

“I am - and I’m not planning on building a home gym,” he clarifies, suddenly anxious with both sets of eyes on him. “I was just discussing the merits of possibly having one.”

“Such as?”

“Well… privacy, for one. I know the building has good security but they're also fairly lax with allowances,” he points out, not wanting to specify the incident last week that had prompted this train of thought, when he was half-certain he’d spotted someone pointing their phone at him and Lia.

“Allowances? You mean guests?” Eunwoo wrinkles his nose. “They don’t allow guests in here.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t. They don’t allow anybody but residents in the gym.”

There’s a brief but painful pause following his words.

“They do, actually,” says Lia.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, they do,” adds Jungkook tightly, glaring at Eunwoo and moving his eyes deliberately in Lia’s direction, hoping to God he’ll drop it.

Eunwoo frowns slowly, apparently working this out. “What?” he mutters, shaking his head at Jungkook. “No, I’m just saying… wait, how are you so sure?”

“Because I’m technically a guest,” says Lia lightly.

“You are?” Eunwoo raises his eyebrows. “But I thought you were - oh.” To Jungkook’s horror, a blush creeps up his friend’s face. Lia goes still next to him and it takes every ounce of Jungkook’s strength to not turn in her direction.

For the next few seconds or so, the three of them stand there in silence, scarcely making a movement.

“Excuse me? May I?”

“Yes! Of course, of course -” Jungkook immediately blurts out while Eunwoo practically trips over himself to take a step back and make way for another patron.

“I’m going to stretch and cool down for a bit,” says Lia, touching Jungkook’s shoulder. “How far along are you?”

“Oh, I still have a bit to finish,” he answers, a bit apologetically. “I was going to box for a bit before ending with cardio.”

“That’s fine, I'll just head back h- uh, to your place and shower… if that’s okay?”

Not least because she hasn’t needed to ask such a question in months, Jungkook nods wordlessly. She gives him a small smile and moves away, and Jungkook watches her leave before turning back around to see Eunwoo giving him a look.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

Eunwoo chuckles as they head over to the boxing bag. “Man, I am so sorry about that. I really thought you’d asked her to move in with you - I thought part of the reason you bought a new house was because you wanted her to move in. You were asking about bathrooms with his-and-her sinks, man. What happened?”

“Okay, first of all, I only asked if you’ve ever seen one in real life - not that I wanted one,” he corrects immediately, strapping on his gloves while Eunwoo gets behind the bag, ready to hold it.

“And the other thing?”

“I’m working on it,” mutters Jungkook, going into stance and holding his hands up. “I just want to do it right. Make sure it’s a good time, that I’m not hurrying anything - that kind of thing.”

Eunwoo hums and nods. “Well, if it helps, she didn’t seem freaked out. If anything, she looked a little annoyed.”

Jungkook freezes. “She did? She looked annoyed - wait, really? Are you serious?”

His eyes widen. “Wh- no. Not - not annoyed like that. Not like a pissed off annoyed, more like a… like a chill annoyed.” When Jungkook says nothing, he shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Maybe it is too soon. Or maybe it isn’t,” he amends quickly. “What do I know? You know my last three relationships lasted, like, four months each - so I’m probably not the best person to be giving you any kind of advice.”

“That’s the most airtight thing you’ve said so far,” mutters Jungkook. “Alright, I’m coming in.” Waiting a moment for Eunwoo to grip the bag, he cocks his elbow back and punches it.

—

Despite his deadly faux pas, Eunwoo had inadvertently provided Jungkook with a rather helpful bit of direction. Perhaps it is time for him to lean on a friend for advice, but Eunwoo was also right that he is not one of them, not with his flighty flings and lack of depth in them. The advice matters and so does the friend, prompting Jungkook to ask himself: which of his friends is the expert on the opposite of short-term flings?

“Namjoon hyung!”

Namjoon stops in his tracks at the sound of his name and turns, waiting for Jungkook to catch up with him.

“Oh, thanks,” says Jungkook, taking a cigarette from the pack Namjoon offers him and leaning forward so he can light it. “Thanks for getting us the evening off, by the way.”

“Kaya is leaving this weekend,” is all Namjoon says in response, shrugging.

“Right.” Jungkook nods, taking a drag and blowing it out, wondering briefly if he should care that they might be seen smoking right outside the Hybe building. “Won’t this make you a couple minutes late, though? If you want to make the best of the next few days?”

Namjoon chuckles. “I don’t want to smoke inside the house.”

“Uh-huh. Speaking of which…” He exhales, suddenly nervous. “I was hoping for some advice.” He clears his throat. “Regarding… relationships.”

Namjoons raises his eyebrows but says nothing else. “M-hm.”

“I have reason to believe,” he begins slowly, “that Lia might want me to ask her to move in with me.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook pauses, searching his leader’s face for a hint. Finding none, he continues. “Well… I want to ask her. But I also don’t want her to feel like I’m asking her just because she wants me to ask her. And I also don’t want to mess it up.”

“How would you mess it up?”

“I don’t know… maybe I’m completely off track and she doesn’t want to move in with me at all? Maybe she thinks it’s too soon?”

Namjoon nods, hearing him out. Then he shakes his head. “Well, personally, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“What isn’t? You think she wants to move in?” Jungkook’s momentarily relief is interrupted by a horrifying thought. “Oh, my God - did she say something to you? Yesterday, at brunch, when I went to the men’s room?”

“Jungkook, you were gone for two minutes.”

He’s about to argue but stops himself. He knows Lia and she is hardly the type to secretly vent her feelings to his friends behind his back, hoping it will get back to him. No, she’s more straightforward than that.

Somewhat satisfied, he takes a different turn. “Okay, let’s get down to it, then. How did you ask Kaya to move in?”

“Well…” Namjoon frowns thoughtfully. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“You… what?” Jungkook squints. “Wait, so… you didn’t ask? You both just knew, telepathically, when to start living together?” he asks incredulously, thinking privately that it could just be believable.

“No,” says Namjoon patiently, chuckling again and flicking some ash off his cigarette. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t have to. Where else is she supposed to live when she comes to Seoul? Where am I supposed to live when I go to see her?”

“Yeah… okay, but… well, would you say you live together?” he presses. “Or do you just, like, crash at each other’s place when you visit?”

“Well, we definitely don’t crash at each other’s place,” he mutters. “Maybe we did right in the beginning? I guess I’d say we live apart, but it’s only because we have to. I don’t know - when she came to Seoul for work last year while I was in service, she stayed at Hannam even though her aunt lives in the city, too.” He shrugs. “If that helps.”

“Huh.” Jungkook considers this. “So, like, do you guys ‘go home’ or do you go back to ‘your place’?”

“Home,” he answers casually, not skipping a beat. “Even her apartment is home. ‘Home’ is what you make it, to a large extent. It’s a place of comfort - an apartment is only part of that,” he says wisely. “I feel more at home in her studio apartment in London with her than at Hannam by myself. The people make the home - and that’s for you to decide.”

Jungkook stares, feeling his cigarette burn away in his hand. “That’s really not the kind of thing I’m looking for, hyung,” he states, before dropping his face in his hand.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and stubs his cigarette on the tray atop the trash can next to him. “Don’t overthink it,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go about it logically: she’s been your girlfriend for six or seven months now, you bought a new place which is significantly bigger than your old one and she’s in her thirties, meaning she’s most likely thinking long-term.”

Jungkook gazes at Namjoon’s raised eyebrows, quite certain he’s meant to pick up some meaning out of this. “So…”

“So… if you’re worried she might say no…”

“Chances are… she probably won’t?”

Namjoon grins and nods. “Exactly. Just be yourself, be genuine, be honest - and remember you’re both together for a reason. And I think - I think - she has a thing for you, too,” he adds seriously.

“One can only hope,” he mutters, albeit slightly mollified. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Namjoon observes him - for too long. For a moment, it seems as though he’s about to say something that makes Jungkook’s stomach jolt unpleasantly, but at the last second, he shakes his head.

“Impossible to mess it up. Honestly,” he says reassuringly, and Jungkook almost believes him. “It’s a part of the journey and if you think she’s expecting it, just take the plunge. Don’t add unnecessary pressure by trying to make it perfect.”

While the last bit simply isn’t in Jungkook’s DNA, he nods anyway.

—

“Damn it.”

Lia doesn’t look up from the email she’s writing, despite Dal’s repeated exclamations from the kitchen. Finally, he sticks his head out around the door.

“Did you know the faucet is leaking?”

“Yes,” she mutters, still not looking away from her screen.

“And did you know it’s dripping out of the sink zone and onto the floor?”

“Yeah?”

“And did you know it’s fucking disgusting?”

Lia sighs and finally turns her head to glance at him. “Yes, I know. I mopped it up this morning.”

Dal steps out, frowning. “So this much water leaked in the last six hours?” When Lia nods, he sighs heavily and trudges into the living room, falling onto the sofa. “I suppose we can text the landlord but I don’t know what good that will do.”

“Probably as much as it did when we told him about the seepage in the bathroom ceiling.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realise the kind of shoulder strength you need to baste upwards.” A moment later, he chuckles. “Helped that there were three of us there, though. Jungkook was really looking for any excuse to be around you back then, wasn’t he?”

Without meaning to, Lia feels a smile creep up her face at the memory. “It was cute,” she says, slightly defensive. “And we really needed the extra hands, especially to clean up.”

“Oh, sure.” There’s a comfortable silence, the only sound being the clicking of Lia’s keyboard. “Speaking of,” he speaks, and his tone is slightly different, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lia doesn’t look up, but she’s certain she knows where he’s going with this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been around much.”

“You think so?”

“M-hm. In fact, I was starting to wonder if you’d moved out or something and I missed the memo.”

“You were still paying only half the rent, though, weren’t you?”

“Lia.”

“‘Sup.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees a movement and ducks out of habit.

“Lee-lee,” he says again, and she finally meets his gaze.

“I know what you’re getting at, and no,” she says dryly, “no updates on that front. I’m still your roommate for the foreseeable future.”

Dal raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

Lia turns back to her laptop but doesn’t resume her typing. “What?”

“What what?”

“You’re still looking at me.”

“No. I’m just looking in your general direction.”

She gives him a look. “Just say it.”

“I thought you were moving in with Jungkook.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he told me last time he came over that he wanted you to move in with him.”

Lia scoffs. “No way did he say that. Liar.”

“Fine, he didn’t use those exact words,” he admits, rolling his eyes. “But he just happened to mention that his new place is bigger, that the gym is fantastic, that it has a really good running trail or something…”

“Maybe he was just making conversation?”

“... and how much closer it is to the Hybe office.”

He works at Hybe, too, technically. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t deflect anymore; Dal will see right through it. She sighs and puts her laptop away.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks steadily. “We aren’t living together. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m not saying it is, at all.” He holds up his hands. “Do you want to, though?”

Lia is silent for a moment. “He needs to ask first. But… yeah, I guess. Could be fun. We’ll save on a lot of fuel.”

“Ooh, stop, I’m swooning.”

She flashes him an embarrassed sort of smile. “You know what I mean. We basically do live together already - but this is a big deal for Jungkook. He’s never done the long-term relationship, adult couple milestone thing before. The last thing I want to do is scare him off.”

Dal nods thoughtfully. “Well, hopefully it’ll go better than your last adult couple milestone thing.”

She snorts, covering her face. “Hey, to be fair, I did move in with him,” she points out. “Kind of.”

“You lasted less than a month before you were back here.”

“Yeah. God, he was such a manchild. Can’t believe I was ever attracted to him.”

“I told you he had an asshat kind of face. But you didn’t listen. Didn’t he have a shrine to his ex-girlfriend in the bathroom or something?”

“It was a couple of bottles of her shampoo and lotion, not a shrine,” she corrects him, “but, sort of. He was so blown away when I asked him to get rid of it - like, sue me, I don’t want to live with my boyfriend and sentimental haircare products belonging to his ex. It just goes to show, you never know enough about your partner until you actually share a living space together.”

“You think there’s more to Jungkook? Because I like him for you, honestly. But he seems to be a more…” Dal grimaces, trying to find the word, “... what you see is what you get… kind of person.”

“That’s a good thing,” she remarks. “Means there’s no lying, no games. None of that shit.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, it’s good you know what you want. How long are we planning to wait for him to pop the question?”

“We are not waiting for anything. I, on the other hand…”

It’s a good question, unfortunately, one that Lia has deliberately tried not to think about because there’s simply no correct answer.

“... will take things as they come.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She narrows her eyes at her oldest friend, recognising both teasing masking genuine concern. “I’m not going to pressure Jungkook. And I’m not going to get my hopes up either,” she states, trying to ignore the quiet tugging at her heart and standing up, stretching.

“Hey, just say the word and I will -“ Dal makes a flailing kind of gesture and flexes his triceps, “- whip him into shape.”

“Oh, really? Not only will it probably be evenly matched, but who’s going to help you both carry cartons of beer into each other’s houses if you’re both maimed?” She taps her temple sarcastically.

“Well, you’ll be a resident in one of our houses at any given time so I guess we’ll be looking at you.” Dal shrugs in satisfaction as Lia chuckles and starts heading inside her bedroom, considering a shower before bed.

“Oi, Lia.”

Lia turns in her doorway, recognising the subtle change in tone once again. It wasn’t surprising that Dal and Jungkook got along easily enough; despite her boyfriend’s initial reservations, most of which were based on Dal’s gender and inopportune timing, he had eventually moved past it to begin actually enjoying his company. Oh, he would never admit it, but Lia had woken up more than once in her own bed, alone, while hearing two male voices laughing in the living room with the television on.

As for Dal, the only thing he had needed to say was “Lee-lee, for once, you’ve found a good boy.”

Therefore, while Lia prefers to handle her relationships herself, she recognises the value of her oldest friend’s opinion.

“I just want to let you know,” he begins seriously, and she feels the muscles in her face go slack. He bites his lip. “I just wanted to let you know,” he repeats, “that if Jungkook has a shrine to his ex in his house, you can always move back in here.”

There’s relief, and Lia doesn’t want to admit there’s relief. “Shut up,” she mutters, turning back around as Dal laughs at his own joke behind her.

It’s not the greatest comfort, but Lia uses it as such after that. Worst case, I move back in with Dal, she thinks. We stay roommates until we’re eighty, when either I die first from stress about work or he does driving his car like a maniac. Jungkook brings a carton of beer to the funeral and shares it with whichever one of us is still alive.

It’s a mildly depressing train of thought, especially when she imagines her eighty year old self heading back to her apartment while seventy-seven year old Jungkook, in his infinite wisdom, still hasn’t asked her to move in with him.

Nearly a week later, Lia has successfully kept her desires to herself, while Jungkook has continued trying to pretend he isn’t thinking about it just as much.

“Remind me again why we’re going to this club?” she asks him as they walk to his car in the basement parking. “It doesn’t really sound like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” he admits. “But the DJ tonight is a friend of a friend… of an acquaintance, who’s also kind of an ex-colleague.” He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t normally go but he helped me out during the production of my debut album and I accidentally told him I owed him.”

“Ah. Mistake number one.”

“It might be. You look quite club-ready for someone who doesn’t really enjoy clubs either,” he remarks, playfully smacking her backside. “Leather pants and everything.”

“Faux leather,” she corrects, leaning over and bumping his hip with hers. “I figured I may as well look the part of a popstar’s girlfriend. Plus,” she adds after a moment, as they climb into the car and begin strapping in, “it’s the only party outfit I have at your place.”

Predictably, Jungkook freezes for a moment before clumsily buckling himself in. He doesn’t meet her eyes and swallows as he looks ahead.

“By the way, I hear the gin martinis at this club are to die for,” he declares, completely transparent. “Did you know, the martini is one of the top five drinks people order on a first date?”

Abrupt subject change coupled with a random fact that doesn’t sound completely true; Jungkook is nervous. It’s exasperating and endearing all at once.

“That’s… interesting. Maybe you should’ve invited your single friends tonight. Or if this DJ is an ex-colleague, at least the ones in your group.”

“What, all two of them?”

“Isn’t it three?”

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook shrugs as they pull out of Hannam Hill. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know. Yoongi hyung isn’t very forthcoming about his dating life and I’m too afraid to ask.”

Lia chortles as they turn into the main road, reaching for her party clutch for her phone, when she realises…

“Oh, no,” she mutters under breath.

“What?”

“I, uh…” She bites her lip, internally swearing at herself. “I was moving stuff from my regular bag to the clutch and I forgot… you know what, can we make a quick detour to my apartment? It’s on the way.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. If you take a right after the signal then you can take the parallel road to the church at the end of my street.”

“That’s not the same road - and come on,” he whines, his shoulders falling. “I don’t want to take a detour. What did you even forget? Power bank? Because my phone is fully charged.”

“It’s not a power bank - look, it’s kind of important, Jungkook. It’ll take, like, five extra minutes.”

“But -”

“Kook!”

“What? What did you even forget that’s so important? Is it make-up or something? Because you look -”

“It’s tampons, Jungkook.”

“It’s -”

“Tampons,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to stop at a drugstore because they may not have the exact brand that I use and most of the others chafe… down there.”

There’s a few seconds of silence while Jungkook stares out of the windshield as the car zooms down the road, his ears turning red.

“Which signal was it again?”

True to her word, they reach her three-storey apartment building a few minutes later and jog up the stairs together.

“I swear, I just need to pick up a couple of extras,” she promises him. “The last time I was caught without any on me and then I had to borrow one and it was just the worst time I - oh, my God!”

Lia gasps as she stops in her tracks in the doorway of her apartment, Jungkook right next to her.

“Is that -”

“Water,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Shit, it came into the living room? I thought we fixed that damn leak,” she mutters. She places her hands on her hips and looks up at Jungkook.

“Well?”

Jungkook looks blank. “Well… what?”

“Well… I’m going to have to wade in there,” she says slowly, already dreading it. “Do you want to come?”

“Ordinarily, I would love to because that sounds so fun, but these are Balenciaga.” He raises his right leg to show her his shoes, mimicking her position until Lia looks away.

“Alright. Wait here then,” she tells him, before gingerly placing one heeled foot into the water and cringing in anticipation. It reaches ankle deep, missing the hem of her pants only due to the height of her heels. With no specific attachment to her shoes, she takes a couple of more hesitant steps.

“Ugh, I can hear the faucet dripping from here,” she grumbles. “Sure you want to just wait out there?”

“Totally. You’re doing great, though, baby.” He grimaces as she walks further in. “Is it cold? It looks cold.”

“No, it’s room temperature. I’m just glad it hasn’t reached the sofa or the cushions or anything in the - whoa!” Lia grabs the arm of the chair beside her as she slips, thankfully saving her ankles as her knee breaks the fall.

There’s a sound of splashing before Jungkook is right next to her a second too late. “Shit, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. No injuries, I think.” She twists to see him kneeling next to her. “What happened to your Balenciagas?”

It seems to have occurred to him only now. “Oh…” He looks down at his shoes, now submerged. “I can try blow drying them, probably?”

“Probably.” She tries to hide a smile before giving up. “Take them off before they get any more damaged, though.”

He takes her advice this time and they both rid themselves of their shoes, tossing them on the chair before splashing their way into the kitchen.

Jungkook whistles. “Wow, that’s some leak,” he remarks, following her as she falls to her knees to get a good look at the thin but steady stream of water spilling from a crack in the pipe. “Is this the only leak?” he wonders out loud before pressing his hand against the crack so the water suddenly stops.

“No, there’s a small one here, too,” she answers, squinting at something on the other side of the pipe, a little higher up. “It’s only a few drops out of this one but it’s still bad enough.”

“Maybe we can -” Jungkook grunts and tugs at the pipe, “- wrench it into place? To block this crack?”

“Doubtful. It’s a really old pipe, too, so I’m afraid it might break.”

“It’s metal - can metal break?”

“I mean… yeah? I guess? Look, it’s all rusted up here.”

“Oh, yeah…”

In his effort to look, Jungkook’s hand slips off the crack and the flow of the water resumes.

“Okay, this can’t go on - we need to block this for now so we can get rid of this fucking flood,” she decides, noting in worry how the water level is slowly rising. “And I’m calling the landlord tomorrow and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Um -” Jungkook looks around from his position by the pipe. “We have a towel, some flour and stuff… maybe we stick some dough onto it?”

“Worth a shot but I don’t know if it’ll hold till tomorrow. Maybe we should try moving the pipe,” she admits, holding the top of it and wondering if it’ll work.

“Okay, let’s do that. Worst case, we find a plastic or metal box, cut it in just the right dimensions to cover the crack and fix it around the pipe.”

“Worst case.”

Jungkook waves her over and they grip the pipe together. “If this goes south, just remember that I love you.”

Despite the chaos and the fact that her faux leather pants are damp and disgusting, Lia snorts. “Shut up, you dork. Come on, let’s do this.” Both of them pull the top part towards the lower one to try and close the gap.

“A little to the left, come on…”

“It’s - not - moving -” Lia bites her lip and jerks the pipe back, accidentally slipping again and falling back onto her boyfriend. The jolt makes Jungkook tip over and the pipe twists on the rust, bursting.

“Oh, my - “ Jungkook’s words are cut off when a jet of water hits him square in the face. Lia gasps and reaches for the pipe as he fumbles, sputtering, and lunges towards the pipe to turn it away.

“Jungkook, no! It’ll break if you -”

But Lia is cut off as well and almost knocked backwards by the force of the water. It’s everywhere now; her clothes, her hair - she’s fully drenched. Next to her, Jungkook looks like he’s been dunked into a lake, his long thick hair sticking to his forehead.

“Take cover!” he yells, pulling open a cabinet behind him with one hand and yanking something out, while the other hand covers the jet of water uselessly. He replaces it with the lid of a cooking pan and tosses her another one which splashes into the water next to her.

“Thanks! I - Jungkook!” She brandishes the utensil while trying to dodge the water. “It’s a sieve!”

“What?”

“It has holes!”

“I can’t see! Wait -” He crawls towards the cabinet but slips midway, swearing loudly.

“Careful!” She ducks and tries to get to the pipe but feels him grip her forearm and pull her back.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” he yells, handing her another pan. “Jesus - how did you guys let this stupid faucet get this bad?”

“I told you - our landlord is a jackass who ghosts us if we bring up fixtures!”

“Well -” Jungkook pauses, wincing a little as the water continues to ricochet off the pan he’s holding up. “In that case, this is probably as good a time as any to ask you this, but do you want to move in with me?”

Lia almost swallows a mouthful of tap water. “What?”

“Just - I mean, this apartment is unlivable!” he says loudly. “And I’m a much better landlord! And also -” He gags and spits out some water, “- I love you and all!” He shrugs awkwardly, drenched to the bone with his oversized t-shirt sticking to his shoulders and chest.

Lia tries - she really tries - to keep a straight face, to attempt to understand what goes on in Jungkook’s head. But it’s a lost cause, for at the end of the day, whatever it is, it just works. Through the irritation at her landlord and the general shock of being waterboarded by a broken pipe, she sees it. A shine in his doe eyes, a hint of nervousness.

She doesn’t realise immediately why the water hits her suddenly with force or why Jungkook’s eyes widen belatedly.

“What are you doing? The water is - oh.” The anticipation turns into the beginnings of a smile when he works out why she has knee walked all the way towards him and he stands on his knees as well, just as she reaches him and places her arms around his neck, and kisses him.

When she pulls away, he’s grinning. “That’s a yes?”

“That’s a thank God you finally asked.”

Jungkook nods sheepishly. “I wanted it to be perfect, honestly. I was just waiting for the right time and -” He sighs, shaking his head so droplets of water fall from his hair.

“You know what? I think this, unexpected as it was, is pretty perfect,” she says honestly. “So… I guess that’s a yes,” she clarifies, meeting him in a kiss once again.

There’s a muffled sound and then a splash, followed by a gasp.

“Oh, my God! What the fuck?”

Jungkook jerks away, pursing his lips. “As long as he is never allowed in our house,” he declares, glaring and pointing in the direction of the living room.

She gives him a look. “Pretty sure you’ll crack before I do on that front,” she guesses, just as Dal appears in the doorway of the kitchen, looking incredulous.

“What the fuck happened in here?”

“What do you think? That damn faucet,” she snaps, pointing at it. “This is the landlord’s problem now - he and his insurance can handle it.”

“I agree, but - God, are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we were using lids…” Jungkook picks his up and places it in front of the stream of water, much more unfazed about it now than he was before.

“Lids? Why didn’t you guys just turn off the water?” Taking a long step across the flooded kitchen floor, he reaches for a panel behind the left-most cabinet and twists a lever - and the water stops.

Speechless, Lia turns to look at Jungkook who is looking back at her with equal dismay. “We thought of dough before we thought of turning off the water,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And we’re taking it to the grave,” she replies, squeezing his hand.

He’s wet, his designer clothes ruined - but Jeon Jungkook is glowing. A moment later, he squeezes her hand back.

“Deal.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: jjk #type: series

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daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

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OH THE JIKOOK OF IT ALL!!! MY HEART!!! THE CHAOS TWINS!!!

i never would have thought we'd get the part of the story where tae and dilara are the comedic relief duo

LOL good thing i came back to read this one!!! extra thank you to that anon!!!

Drowning pt. 2 (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You and Namjoon find out you still have some kinks to iron out.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: sexual innuendos? if that - idk

A/N: I have, to this day, not been able to get over purple-haired Namjoon, so this fic is dedicated to whichever stylist decided to bring this into our lives. Takes place the morning after Drowning.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “full time lover” by prateek kuhad

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

It’s a sunny day in the London heat, but according to Dilara, it will rain this evening.

Kaya stares at the clouds in the distance, wondering if they are rainclouds and if they are even near enough the city to provide a respite from this heat. She will be back in Amsterdam by then, though, where the weather is more bearable.

She can hear voices from close by, of Dilara and Taehyung, of her friends, of Namjoon and Chris speaking their language in similarly deep voices. It’s somewhat comforting, but Kaya can’t seem to find it in herself to join them. In fact, she hasn’t all day, and she can’t quite figure out why.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to retrace her steps from this morning, all the way from when she had woken up in Dilara’s guest room, cold and alone.

Her heart had jerked to such a stop that it physically hurt. The first sound out of her mouth had been something between a dry sob and a gasp. She’d sat up in an instant, realising a moment later that the cold was because the air conditioner had clearly been turned up - or that it felt that way because the warm body next to her that always ran a little too hot in the summers was no longer there.

She’d had to blink and rub her eyes before the grogginess disappeared and she was able to focus on the Rolex lying on the bedside table, followed by the Converse shoes by the closets that were definitely too big to be hers. She’d felt mildly ridiculous but given her heart was still beating rapidly and unevenly, she’d gotten off the bed and slipped on her shorts, now able to hear faint voices from outside as well.

Namjoon had been in the kitchen with Chris and Dilara, scarfing down a bowl of cereal while the three of them chatted. His face had broken out into a dimpled smile at the sight of her, easy and familiar, and he’d sort of held out one hand. For some reason, including the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach that hadn’t yet subsided, Kaya pretended as though she hadn’t seen it.

It didn’t end there. Dilara and her friends had a plan to go ice-skating and somehow, Kaya found herself and Namjoon being roped into it. To his credit, Namjoon seemed equally enthused at the prospect - but she had a feeling he could be convinced into anything at the moment. His happiness and relaxed demeanor was transparent, but it didn’t do a lot to help her discomfort disappear.

The cold interior was a welcome respite from the heat and their group of six meant that Kaya was able to distance herself from Namjoon without making it obvious. She wished she wasn’t, but it simply felt too overwhelming to be around him, as though it was opening the door to a room stuffed with feelings she had to begin making sense of.

Dilara and her friend Lexie, her trainer and a professional dancer, had taken off on the ice together, gliding like swans and seeming strangely coordinated, like they knew each other’s movements. Chris and Taehyung were far less graceful about it; the latter was dreadful, half-stomping and yelling in fear, and had to be coaxed by his girlfriend who was laughing but stayed patient, holding his hands and guiding him, while Chris outright refused to participate.

It left Kaya and Namjoon to be the average, normal skaters and when he had come over and asked if she wanted to skate together, holding out his hand, she’d found it impossible to be able to refuse.

The uncertainty didn’t go anywhere, though, not while skating, not after, when they grabbed fish and chips from a nearby vendor, and not now when they hung around by the Thames on a rare day off, eating and sipping on cold drinks.

The breeze by the river is slightly cooler; sitting on a ledge overlooking the water, Kaya tries to clear her mind.

She smells him before she hears him, the familiar cologne making her heart involuntarily skip a beat. “Hey. Is this seat taken?”

Kaya opens her eyes but doesn’t look at him; turning in his general direction, she forces a small smile and shakes her head, looking back at the water as he sits beside her.

“Are you okay?” he asks. When she simply nods, he speaks again, and his tone is slightly different. “Something on your mind?”

Too much. Now that he’s sitting beside her, she’s finding it harder than ever to look at him, afraid he’ll see everything on her face.

“Is everything -“

“Can you -“ She interrupts him and stops abruptly. “Can you… not get up in the morning and just leave like that? Maybe wake me up or - or drop a text or something?”

By his silence, she can tell that isn’t what he was expecting. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Sure. Sorry.”

She nods, slightly regretting her brusque tone. Her eyes look around without really seeing anything, vaguely registering people walking around on a Tuesday afternoon. For once, Namjoon doesn’t seem about them being together in public. She wonders if that’s on purpose.

“Is there anything else?” he asks gently. “Kaya… did I do something wrong? Last night?”

Kaya shakes her head. Nothing had really happened last night for anything to go wrong. They had clambered into bed, fully-clothed minus denims - she guessed he didn’t want to presume anything and was waiting for her cue.

Somewhere in the darkness, the proximity and familiar touch and pure longing had led to her tilting her head up and finding his lips, and they’d engaged in a passionate snog session that could’ve gone all the way, had it not been for her stopping it abruptly.

“Sorry,” she’d murmured, rolling off him and feeling his hand slide off her thigh. “I just don’t think tonight is… you know, the right…”

Namjoon had saved her from stuttering and nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No problem,” he’d replied softly, and waited for her to settle back down before doing so himself, eventually wrapping his arms loosely around her body - comforting but not suffocating. She’d felt his semi against the small of her back and a primal part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind, but she’d restrained herself.

Now, sitting right next to him, it occurs to her how foreign the distance is between them, even if it’s barely a foot.

“Are you sure you want this?” she blurts out.

“This, meaning… you? Like, a relationship?” He hardly waits for her to nod. “Yes. Very much. Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s just occurring to me that the only reason we’re here is because Seokjin tricked me into going to your hotel yesterday,” she says, the words suddenly flowing. “Without that… would all this have actually happened?” she asks, finally looking at him. Would you still be here?

Namjoon frowns. “I mean… honestly? Maybe not,” he admits. “But you can say that about a hundred different things. We’re here right now because everything up till this moment fell into place a certain way.”

“But would you be here?” she asks finally. “Or do you think you’d even want to, a week or a month from now? Because… Namjoon, I can’t help but feel like I - like I ambushed you,” she confesses. “I just showed up and I said a bunch of things and I caught you off guard… emotions were running very high. But once everything calms down, in a few days or a few weeks… will this still be something you want?”

His frown deepens and Kaya can tell he’s struggling not to let his incredulity show. “Is it something I want? Kaya… I can assure you, that is not something that has ever been in question.”

“Then why didn’t you come to me sooner? Why did it take me coming there and a fight to happen and - and for you to find out about the note for us to be here?”

“Because -“ He sighs. “Look, I can’t pretend I know what might have happened if you hadn’t come over yesterday. I think I was questioning my decision enough that I would’ve eventually called you, probably to apologise or definitely at least to talk. But… no, it probably wouldn’t have been last night,” he admits. “But that’s how these things work sometimes. Would we be here if you weren’t in London for work?”

Kaya turns away as he tilts his head, his logic not escaping her.

“You did not ambush me,” he clarifies firmly. “You told me a bunch of things I needed to hear and as hard as some of those things were… you were right to say them to me.”

That’s not what I’m talking about. Not exactly. But she doesn’t know how else to put it. Next to her, Namjoon takes a deep breath.

“You know, when I was on the way to the airport after you told me about the break-in,” he begins, a little hesitantly, “before I decided to write to management about the press release, I was… I was going to tell them I was terminating my contract. I didn’t,” he adds quickly, when she snaps around to look at him in shock, “but that was the initial plan.”

“Jesus, Namjoon,” she breathes, shaking her head. “When did you get such a flair for the dramatic?”

“I wasn’t trying to be dramatic,” he disagrees. “And it’s not like I would’ve stopped being a member of BTS that second. There would’ve been a discussion and meetings about it - and I was ready to have those. But I didn’t go through with it because as I was typing out the email…” He sighs. “I got a message from Jungkook asking if I knew where his socks were. And then one from Jimin asking me not to tell him. And I had no idea what they were talking about… but I knew I couldn’t do that to them.”

“Tell me about it. Please do not end your career for me,” she states, still reeling from this new information. “Christ. Those were really your only two options?”

“The point is, is that I didn’t break up with you on a whim,” he says patiently. “Obviously, I shouldn’t have done it at all, but… Kaya, it really, genuinely felt like my last resort then. So if you’re asking me if I still want to be with you? Honey, I never stopped. Okay?”

Kaya feels chest loosen slightly - but only slightly. The casual term of affection doesn’t escape her notice either; he’d only started calling her that when she’d started calling him that. Until then, it had been a lot of jagiya and sweetheart and baby - but this extremely American endearment had been new to his vocabulary then.

When she’d mentioned to him once, when they were thousands of miles apart, that it always made her think of how her immigrant parents called each other honey, deliberately using an American term to make each other laugh, he’d suddenly started using it much more often.

“Namjoon, I…” She exhales deeply, wishing the answer would come to her - wishing the question would come to her, perfectly structured so she could get her point across but still avoid hurting him. “I get that you think that,” she says slowly, noting how his shoulders fall but powering through, “and I believe that you think that. But it’s been six months.”

“That’s really not a lot.”

“I’m not saying your feelings have disappeared. I’m saying…” She tries but gives up almost immediately. “I’m saying that things can change in six months. And I don’t want us making such a huge decision - again - based solely on what happened last night. We’ve missed each other and we said a lot of things, but I really think we need to take a beat and think about it. Because… I can’t go through a break-up again. I just can’t. So, if you’re not one hundred percent sure… well, then this is your out.”

There’s a few seconds of silence where the sound of the river seems louder. Then, Namjoon speaks.

“I don’t need an out. I don’t want one and I don’t think it’s -”

Just then, both of them are called and they turn to see everyone starting to pile into Dilara’s Aston Martin DBX.

“Look, just - just think about it, okay?” Kaya says, standing up and dusting herself off. When Namjoon doesn’t answer, his tongue in his cheek, she hesitantly offers her hand. Despite his visible discomfort, he takes it and even though he doesn’t apply any pressure, he keeps holding her hand until they’re at the car.

—

Namjoon follows Kaya into the guest room, slowing down a few feet behind her, and watches her gather her belongings from around the room.

“Good thing I didn’t unpack a lot,” she says lightly. “The cab should be here any minute. Thank God the college is paying for it or I’d be taking the train. Do you think you’ll still come?” she asks after a moment, sounding doubtful.

“Yeah. I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Need to book the hotel and everything,” he explains, suddenly remembering he needs to inform the team and taking out his phone.

“Joon?”

“Yeah?”

She sighs. “Are you mad?”

“What? No,” he says honestly, lowering his phone. “Of course not. I’m just trying to understand…” He takes off the beanie he’s been wearing all day and runs a hand through his hair, letting breathe in the AC. “I know you may need time. And I’m fine with that, really. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

Kaya purses her lips, a small smile flickering on her face. “But?”

“No but,” he says immediately. “Yet,” he begins after a moment, “I really want to understand why you think my feelings might have changed. It’s not like I moved on with my life after we broke up. I didn’t even try,” he admits. “Why is that the doubt in your mind?”

She shrugs slowly. “I don’t know. I know that you… love me, but I just need… I don’t know, some kind of reassurance. Something to show me that it’s more than the relief of getting back together.”

Namjoon frowns, something just occurring to him. “Is this the only thing that’s holding you back?” he asks curiously. “From…”

“From getting back together?” She pauses, evidently thinking. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Really? You’re not mad at me anymore?”

She takes a deep breath. “No. I was, yesterday. Very. But it’s getting too hard to stay mad at you,” she admits. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Something blooms in Namjoon’s chest at that, hopeful and happy, but he reins it in.

“I love you,” he says.

He’s not imagining it; an automatic smile threatens to creep up on her face but she suppresses it. “I love you, too. But I don’t want to move forward with this - this thing in my brain, constantly questioning me. I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not making any sense,” she mutters, shaking her head and moving around the bed with her packed suitcase.

“No, come on, don’t be sorry,” he says immediately, coming to stand before her. “I really want to understand, baby - okay, let me see if I’m getting this -“ He touches her shoulders to stop her in place and clasps his hands together.

Kaya sighs but doesn’t protest, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head, clearly humouring him.

“You want to get back together - which, by the way, is music to my ears -“ he adds, his heart skipping a beat when she purses her lips in amusement, “and it’s not that you’re angry… you just aren’t sure if I’m serious about this?”

Her shoulders fall and she looks away, now seeming visibly frustrated at her inability to word it.

“I think you believe you are,” she says slowly. “But I think you think you’re supposed to. I don’t think you’ve thought this through beyond just getting back together. About what happens after getting back together.”

Something settles in Namjoon’s stomach; it’s like the feeling of hearing a bunch of demos and arrangements and knowing that a particular combination of them is the correct sound - but the challenge is to recreate in reality what is in his head.

“Okay.” He swallows, nodding. “Firstly, I hope you know that as much as I want this, I in no way want to pressure you. You can take all the time you need - I just don’t want this to be something that’s a factor in it.”

She shrugs helplessly. “How does that happen? I can’t tell my brain to stop thinking about it. There has to be a rationale behind it.”

“So… you want me to prove that I’m in this for the long haul?”

“I mean, it’s not a test. But… yeah, an indication wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

They stare at each other, both their points having been made, with the looming feeling of an impasse. Namjoon fiddles absently with the rings on his fingers, something he realises only now that he should have returned to the stylists yesterday.

“Alright.” He pokes his tongue in his cheek and takes a deep breath. “I think I get it. I just want you to know that… this is not the way I was planning to do this. Or even imagining it - like, Dilara’s guest room was nowhere in the picture. But I love you,” he repeats, “and if we do get back together, it’s my job to make sure that this isn’t something you ever doubt again, so…” He takes a step backwards and, with his heart suddenly starting to race almost as though it’s trying to catch up with his brain, he goes to kneel.

It takes almost his knee to touch the ground before Kaya seemingly catches on, her frown deepening one second and her eyes widening the next. An incoherent gasp escapes her mouth for which Namjoon is glad, for he doesn’t think he can get through this if he’s interrupted.

“Kaya Madaan, love of my life,” he says, slipping a silver ring off his middle finger, “I can try and convince you of this every single day for the rest of our lives - and I will - if you make me the happiest man on -“

“Oi, Kaya, your taxi is here - whoa, what’s wrong - oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

Dilara gasps in the doorway, while Kaya is still frozen in shock before him. Namjoon feels like he’s been hit in the chest with the sudden interruption and he swallows, staring wordlessly as the door opens wider and Taehyung appears next to his girlfriend.

“What happened? What’s - oh.” Taehyung’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs and he swears in part-shock and part-awe - and in Korean, Namjoon notes somewhere in his mind.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” Dilara exclaims, wincing in guilt and looking at Kaya.

“Damn,” muses Taehyung, back to English, “I always thought I was going to go first.”

“What?” Dilara smacks his shoulder in horror, making him gasp and wince as he clutches his arm.

Namjoon’s brain finally snaps out of its shocked silence and he gets to his feet. “Alright, get out,” he snaps, walking over and slamming the door, hesitating for a moment before turning around to face Kaya.

“That was definitely not part of the plan,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Okay, where, uh, where were we? Oh, right -“ He moves to go back to his original spot, but Kaya stops him.

“Namjoon.” Her voice is still a little shaky but her grip on his shoulders is firm. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t - you shouldn’t. Not now.”

From her expression, he knows she isn’t referring to the location. He reaches up to brush his thumb against her cheek. “I really do want you to know that I - Kaya, I’m not afraid to do this. Granted, it should be more romantic, more planned - and definitely far, far away from those two. But I mean it just as much right now.”

Kaya bites her lip and even though he knows all the things wrong with this situation, she shakes her head slowly. His heart sinks unexpectedly but he hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

“Not like this,” she says softly. “We’re not there yet - on multiple fronts. But, someday… maybe.”

His chest loosens slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I still don’t think we should get back together this minute,” she says after a moment, waiting for Namjoon to nod. “But… come to Amsterdam tomorrow. Help me move in… maybe christen my new apartment?”

He half-chuckles. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to -“

“I know. And… you did.” She gives him a small smile when he meets her eyes. “This was not what I had in mind when you said prove,” she says, giving him a look, “but I think it did the job. But… God, Joon, what would you have done if I’d said yes?”

He takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Well, for starters, I would get you an actual ring.” He slips the ring back onto his finger, the metal feeling cold in the AC. “And told Big Hit that as my legal spouse, they fly you back and forth to wherever I am.” He pauses. “You know, I think I’m going to do that anyway.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows. “You can do that?”

“Yeah. I think so. If you’re my significant other on paper - and, yeah, there will be a paper,” he adds, slightly apologetically. “But they can afford it.”

“Well, you are a shareholder,” she points out. “But you know what? If you manage to swing that, I’ll take it.”

He squints. “You have never let me pay for a ticket in three years. I had to convert it into a birthday gift for the Rome trip.”

“Take the win, honey,” she murmurs, reaching up and kissing him. Namjoon almost sighs when he feels his chest relax and his stomach unclench with worry. Pulling her closer by the waist, he kisses her back, every cell in his body cherishing the moment.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he mumbles into her shoulder when they pull away into a hug.

“I may have an idea,” she replies, equally softly, tightening her arms around his shoulders.

There’s a knock on the door. “Er… I don’t mean to interrupt,” comes Dilara’s voice, sounding extremely hesitant, “but the security guard just called me to say your taxi is still waiting.”

“Shit, I’m going to miss my flight,” mutters Kaya, immediately stepping away and fumbling for her suitcase and bag. Namjoon tries not to be disappointed as he takes her suitcase from her and wheels it to the front door, waiting while she pulls on her shoes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises when she stands up again. “Call me when you land?”

“I will.” She reaches up to give him another quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading out, tucking her long hair behind her ear and calling the lift. Namjoon watches until the lift arrives and she steps in, blowing him a kiss as the doors close.

Missing her already, he trudges inside and shuts the front door behind him to see Taehyung and Dilara surreptitiously staring from where they are on the sofa.

“I’m going to kill you two.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: knj #type: series

69 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

esufhhaiufhasuifhuiha YOONGI HAHAHAHAHAHAH god i love his ass

HEY SEOKJIN MAYBE INSTEAD OF PUTTING YOUR NOSE IN NAMJOON AND KAYA'S BUSINESS AND WORRY ABOUT THEM TALKING TO EACH OTHER, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE A FUCKING FRANK CONVERSATION WITH NARI, LIKE, EIGHT MONTHS AGO???????/ JUST A THOUGHT'??????????

he WOULD use a word like onus in an argument i actually think i hate him!!

i fucking LOVE dilara for making sure to say that to kaya, after how she felt so ganged up on during the breakup

omggggggggggggg gurl. she needs to MOVE. namjoon needs to beg her back and put her in a place with fucking security with all that money he fucking makes. jesus.

yesssssssssssss i love every single thing she just said to him!!!! let him know!!!!!!!!!

oh she DIDN'T sleep with chris. that was fucking tricky cath!!!! i thought what chris told dilara was that they had sex but it was in fact about that nasty note. TRICKY. you're good at letting readers make their assumptions.

I KNEW SHE DIDNT SLEEP WITH ADAM haha i feel so vindicated

jesus christ there is nothing i want less than a kid right now but i swear if kim taehyung called me jagi i'd pop out a whole football team for him

them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Drowning (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You give Namjoon a piece of your mind and you both discover your feelings have gone nowhere.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, hint of fluff

Word count: 9.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, insinuations of sex

A/N: As requested, including appearances by Taehyung and Dilara. Takes place two weeks after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "cold/mess" by prateek kuhad

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

All it takes is a fifteen second phone call from the concierge to the penthouse suites for Kaya to be escorted upstairs.

She tries not to let her impatience show; the concierge is walking at a normal pace, all straight-backed and poised, and Kaya simply wants to tell him to hurry up.

“I can take it from here,” she says abruptly when they reach the door of the suite. “Thank you.” The concierge looks vaguely surprised at being ushered away, but nods and leaves.

Swallowing, she stares at the door. Now that she’s actually here, she doesn’t know what to do next, besides the obvious. She doesn’t know what to expect or even whom to expect - all she has is Seokjin’s text telling her to hurry over because -

Buzz.

Kaya rings the bell and waits for less than five seconds before the door swings open.

“You came!” Seokjin sounds more surprised than relieved, stepping aside to let her in.

“Where is he?” Kaya asks, striding into the suite to see only Yoongi sitting on the sofa with a laptop on his knees. She looks around the living room, possibly bigger than her entire apartment, and towards the bedrooms - but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. She turns to Seokjin. “Well?”

“You actually called her?” Yoongi asks, sounding just the slightest bit wary.

Kaya frowns. “Wait, you didn’t know?” she asks, but Seokjin interrupts her to answer Yoongi.

“Yeah, I - I had to. I didn’t tell him, though.” He turns to Kaya. “He’s in the other suite. His suite.”

“Well -” Something is off. “Then… let’s go. Why are we - wait, what did you mean you didn’t tell him? Is he… awake?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “He’s on a conference call with management so I hope he is,” he answers dryly.

“Okay, hold on.” Kaya bites her lip, a small part of her brain telling her she’s been tricked somehow. She fixes Seokjin with a look and is somewhat glad to see him look nervous. “You told me he collapsed. You said I should hurry and when I asked to talk to him, you said he wasn’t in a position to talk.”

Seokjin nods slowly. “Um, okay, so… he did collapse during the group interview we were doing because we’ve been travelling and he hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep - and is London going through some kind of heat wave? Because I don’t remember it being this bad -”

“No. Focus.” Kaya is sure now she’s been lied to, or at the very least manipulated. “You said he couldn’t talk. I thought he was unconscious or - or on a drip -”

“No, he couldn’t talk because he was on the phone with his mum - but, wait, Kaya -” Seokjin says hurriedly. “I didn’t lie. I just - I couldn’t think of any other way to get you here unless I… shit, what’s the word?”

“Exaggerated? Embellished? Aggrandized?”

“Lied,” supplies Yoongi, barely looking up from his laptop.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” mutters Seokjin through his teeth. “Look, Kaya… I’m sorry. But he honestly hasn’t been doing great, okay? He hasn’t been eating all that well and the travel back and forth is crazy and he’s constantly up at all hours writing, so it’s not even a surprise that he finally cracked under the pressure -”

“But he’s fine!” she exclaims. “If he’s taking work calls and bossing people around then all he probably needed was some Gatorade and a cookie! God, I can’t believe you lied to me,” she mutters, shaking her head and pulling out her phone. “You just cost me eighteen pounds to get here, Seokjin.”

“Look, he’s not a good place right now -”

“That’s not my problem anymore! He doesn’t need a babysitter and he definitely doesn’t need me hovering over him because he got light-headed for a second. This was really low of you, you know,” she snaps, turning around and heading towards the door but he stops her at the last second, sliding in front of her and blocking the door.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I did not want to lie to you and I understand why you’re angry, but…” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “You actually came here,” he blurts out. “You thought he was sick and you dropped everything and you came to him, even though you two aren’t on good terms right now. Kaya -“ He makes a motion as though about to grab her shoulders, but stops himself at the last moment.

“Seokjin -“

“Timing is everything,” he interrupts her, and his eyes look completely serious, almost manic. “You don’t know when you’re going to run out of it or - or when all of a sudden, you’re strangers.”

“What?” Kaya frowns incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s a mess,” he repeats, and his voice cracks a bit. “And I know you are, too, so while it’s not really any of my business, just please… please talk to him.”

Kaya has the distinct impression that this topic has run away from him entirely, but his audacity makes her hands shake. She turns briefly to look at Yoongi, who’s staring at Seokjin with his eyebrows raised, clearly as much in the dark as her.

She turns back around. “Seokjin,” she says in a low voice, “with all due respect, you don’t know the half of what happened between Namjoon and I. Okay? He ended our relationship. He did that. And we have nothing between us anymore. Now - please move so I can leave.”

Seokjin swallows and he looks hurt - but Kaya neither knows nor cares what that’s about. He lowers his head and shuffles to the side; Kaya opens the door and storms out, feeling sad and cheated and relieved all at once - only to be faced with Namjoon exiting the room on the opposite side of the corridor.

Kaya’s heart stops for a moment. Namjoon looks more surprised than ever, almost as if he’s seen a ghost.

“What - what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding a bit breathless.

She doesn’t know where to start. It’s just occurred to her how long it’s been since she last saw him, but she doesn’t want to stare. Her eyes fall slightly to his hands by his side, one of them holding a brand new phone.

“Ask Seokjin,” she says shortly, turning to leave.

“What? Wait -“

Kaya shakes her head to herself as she continues walking away, even as she hears his footsteps on the carpet behind her. She’s so annoyed at Seokjin - it’s hard to be outright angry at him, especially when he looks so pitiful - but whatever he’s working through is not her problem.

Without realising it, her feet slow down. Sighing, she turns around.

“Are you really not eating? Seriously?” she asks, not meaning to sound so exasperated. But now that she actually looks at him, plain white t-shirt and faded blue jeans, his hair a silvery-purple and brushing the collar of his t-shirt, she can see it. He’s getting thinner and his face is pale and while his frame is still broad, there’s no muscle left near his shoulders and chest.

Namjoon’s eyes shutter over slightly. “I’m eating just fine,” he mutters, looking away. Even the veins in his neck look more prominent. “Is that why you came here?”

“I heard you fainted. Or something.”

“I didn’t faint,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I got a little dizzy and fell, kind of. I’m fine. Wait, is that why you’re here?” He frowns, but there’s a flash of hope in his eyes.

Kaya feels her cheeks grow warm. He’s looking at her like he’s just registered she’s here in the flesh and he looks relieved. Or disbelieving - either way, she feels the need to look away.

“Seokjin made it sound a lot worse. And I was already in London, so…”

“Work?”

“Kind of. Class off-site.”

Namjoon nods and takes a step forward. “It’s really good to see you,” he says, voice softer than before.

An old, familiar flutter passes through her stomach. Hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans, she hunches her shoulders slightly. “The purple suits you,” she replies, feeling the corner of her mouth lift up slightly. Namjoon smiles, too: a small half-smile but enough to make his dimple pop.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments before Kaya feels her smile fade. Heart hurting, she turns around and resumes walking away.

“You’re still mad at me,” he says from behind her. “Even now?”

She doesn’t stop, but slows down. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.” His answer is instant. His voice is closer now and even after all this time, Kaya’s entire body tingles when she thinks about their proximity.

“Why? It’s not going to change anything, right?” she asks, shrugging and finally turning.

Namjoon bites his lip. “I -” He stares at her, as though really studying her, before dropping his gaze to the floor. “It’s been six months,” he murmurs. “It might be too late to change anything, anyway.”

“What does that mean? Wait, no - you know what?” she adds quickly, her heart jerking. “I need you to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Reeling me back in. Constantly. Saying these things and - and coming over and -” She sniffs without meaning to. “Your friends luring me to your hotel to - what? Talk? You’re just making it worse. This is what you wanted.”

He scoffs. “No, I didn’t. Believe me, this -” He gestures to the space between them “- is definitely not what I wanted. I made one decision which was -”

“And it was a dumb decision!” she exclaims. “And I wasn’t even a part of it. But you made that call - so live with it. You don’t get to keep acting like you care about whether I’m angry -”

“Act? What the hell, Kaya? I’m miserable,” he argues, “and I hate myself for how this turned out but I had to do something. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me and I can’t go back in time but I can try not to make it worse! Being miserable is worth that.”

Kaya scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. “So that’s what this is about. You’re punishing yourself,” she states. “And it doesn’t matter that you hurt me in the process, too.”

Namjoon shakes his head, looking drained. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, it is.” Something about how defeated he looks is only making her angrier. “It’s about your self-inflicted sense of responsibility where everything is your problem, anything that goes wrong is your fault, and the only person that can fix it is you.”

“Fucking hell - do you think I like being wired this way?” he demands and his mouth trembles a bit. “Do you think I like not being able to sleep because I have people depending on me, or - or constantly worrying if I’m doing the right thing for everyone? The onus is on me and so is the blame. I hate it but I don’t… I don’t know how else to function,” he finishes, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry you’re mad and I’ll let you hate me for however long you -”

“I don’t hate you. Jesus Christ,” she mutters, but she can feel her throat beginning to hurt. “And I never blamed you. Not once. What would I blame you for? I didn’t even get hurt last time - I was just freaked out. And then you bailed on me - some might call that cowardice.”

He flinches, like she’s slapped him. “Call it what you want, Kaya. And, yeah, maybe that wasn’t bad enough for you to blame me,” he admits. “But what about when it gets bad enough that you do blame me? Because you’ll be right. And I’ll have nothing - I’ll have no way to fight for us because you will be right to blame me and I will lose you, knowing that I did nothing to try and stop it. At least this way, I know I tried to do the right thing by letting you go.”

Kaya stares as he turns away, looking up at the ceiling and sniffing. It’s been three years but it’s still shocking to see him break down in front of her, her tall, strong boyfriend with the world on his shoulders. It takes her another moment to remember he’s not her boyfriend anymore.

“Okay,” she murmurs, hearing her own voice shake. “I’m going to say this for the last time, because… I’m so tired, Namjoon.” Walking towards him until she’s right in front of him, she hesitates before reaching for his face. Up close, the bags under his eyes are more prominent but she forces herself to meet his eyes, which look both confused and longing at the same time.

“I love you,” she says, waiting for the words to sink in. “I love you… and I want to be with you. And I want to marry you and I want to have your children and I want to grow old with you and die together, eighty years from now. But I’m so tired, Joon,” she repeats in a small voice, searching his eyes for something familiar. “If you ask me to leave right now, then… I’ll go. I’ll go and we’ll lead our separate lives and everything we were can just stay a nice memory. But -” She swallows, feeling her voice break again. “But if you ask me to stay… I promise, I will never leave you. It’s okay to be the one taken care of, Joonie,” she whispers.

Namjoon closes his eyes and touches his forehead to hers before opening them again. His hands are big and warm on her shoulders, long fingers curling around her arms like he’s still convincing himself, even now that she’s really here.

“I love you,” he whispers, but his eyes fall to the floor. “And I will always love you, but… Kaya, can we -”

Kaya shakes her head, not wanting to hear anymore. Ignoring the tear that escapes her eye and clenching her jaw to stop herself from sobbing, she lowers her hands, her heart breaking because now they’re really done.

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” she murmurs, reaching up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

It’s closure, or maybe it isn’t. Either way, it feels like the end.

—

It’s too warm for London; Kaya doesn’t remember ever feeling this hot in her two years living in this city while she was getting her Masters, but maybe global warming really is catching up with them. The air conditioner in Dilara’s apartment is extremely effective, though, so despite the fact that she’s been in shorts and a thin off-shoulder all day, she cradles a cup of steaming green tea in her hands, barely feeling the heat.

A knock sounds on her door and jerks her out of her numbness.

“Hey,” says Dilara softly, poking her head in. When Kaya nods in acknowledgement, she steps inside. “You alright?”

Kaya considers this. “No,” she answers honestly. “But I wasn’t really expecting anything different.”

While Dilara doesn’t know the details of what transpired earlier this evening, it seems as though she’s guessed the general gist of it. “Well… we’re going to get drinks in a bit. Do you want to join? Get your mind off it?”

We, meaning Taehyung and her friends Lexie and Chris. “I’m good, thanks,” mutters Kaya, privately thinking it’s the last thing she wants to do right now. “I think I need to just be alone and… process. Or forget.” She takes a sip of the tea but it’s tasteless. “I want to get it over with before I leave tomorrow. By the way,” she adds, setting the tea on the bedside table, “thank you for letting me stay while I’m here.”

“Of course,” says Dilara, like it’s obvious. “Whenever you’re in London, just give me a ring. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, though?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She nods, looking slightly doubtful but thankfully not pushing. “Well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Liquor is in the cabinet by the dining table. Food… not much of it. Booze - a lot of it.”

Kaya nods, giving her a small smile as she moves to leave.

“Oh, um.” Dilara stops. “By the way, I just want to let you know that while I really like Namjoon… if it comes down to choosing sides, I’m on yours.” She shrugs sort of sheepishly as she says it.

“Oh.” Kaya pauses, not expecting this. “That’s… not necessary.”

“Maybe,” she admits.”It’s just… I know that Tae and I are disgustingly into each other right now, but not too long ago, we were broken up, too. And as much as I love the guys…” She sighs and purses her lips. “They’re one team and they will stick up for each other, no matter what. And it can be a little intimidating,” she adds. “So, just to clarify, I’m on your team.”

Kaya doesn’t quite know how to respond to this. “That’s really nice,” she says at last. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She sighs and runs her hands over her face. “In any case, I don’t think it’ll ever go there. We’re pretty over. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is be the cause of any conflict between you and Taehyung.”

Dilara shakes her head. “Are you kidding? We fight over everything. It’s kind of become a thing now. Besides,” she continues, “being on opposite sides, opposing teams… can you imagine how much hotter the sex would be?”

“Okay,” mutters Kaya quickly, chuckling despite herself. “Glad to help.” But she’s grateful for the momentary lightness.

Dilara grins. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Disney princess eyes. “Thanks, Komyshan.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies in a sing-songy voice, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. Not a moment passes before it opens again. “Oh, also?”

Kaya tries not to sigh; she’s very fond of Dilara, but she really needs to be alone right now. “Yeah?”

“Um…” Dilara cranes her neck to look at something outside the room before stepping inside and closing the door again. “Don’t be angry, but… Chris let me in on a little secret.”

Kaya freezes. “He did?”

“Yeah…” she says slowly. “Don’t be angry with him. I’m one of his closest friends and… this is the kind of thing he’d need to tell someone.”

“Jesus.” Her heart is still racing from this unexpected turn in conversation, but she’s too tired to care much about it now. “You know what, it’s fine. Just… don’t tell Namjoon.”

Dilara shrugs. “Of course. It’s none of my business.” She pauses. “I just hope you’re being careful. And like I said, I’m on your side, so if you need anything -”

“I know.”

She nods and opens her mouth to respond when the doorbell rings. “Hang on,” she mutters, disappearing out of the room.

Kaya closes her eyes and drops her face into her hands, sad and exhausted and empty. She appreciates Dilara’s concern but right now, she just needs to be alone. She hears the door open and Dilara’s voice say something, before she calls out her name.

“Kaya?” Dilara appears in the doorway again and the delicate look on her face is telling enough. “It’s for you.”

It’s almost an out of body experience, hearing her own footsteps on the hardwood floors and stepping out of the guest bedroom to see Namjoon at the end of the hallway. Part of her gets it now, why when she’d arrived at the hotel, he’d looked like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. It seems surreal that he’s here now, and her chest feels like it’s being crushed with sadness and fury.

She barely registers Dilara muttering something and leaving them alone, disappearing into her bedroom, no doubt to give Taehyung an update. For a few moments, there is silence. Kaya doesn’t want to look at him anymore; the rejection is fresh and cuts like a knife, and no part of how broken he looks means anything to her anymore.

When a few more seconds pass and nothing happens, Kaya folds her arms across her chest and scoffs, looking away. “Are you here to break up with me some more? Because believe me, I get the message, alright?”

Namjoon seemingly ignores this. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t get hurt last time?” He takes a step forward. “The break-in - that was the only time, right?”

Kaya frowns, momentarily unsure of what he’s talking about. But his gaze is unwavering and even when she remembers her own words, she doesn’t answer. “You are unbelievable,” she mutters.

“Kaya, I’m serious.”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I don’t owe you any answers, about anything. Not after you expressly asked me to leave.”

“I didn’t, actually,” he points out. “I couldn’t. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but -” He breaks off and looks around, presumably for the words, but eventually just hangs his head. “Please. Did something else happen?”

“How is it - why do you - what are you even going to do with this information?” she asks incredulously. “How does it matter? And why did you come all the way here -”

“Why did you come all the way to my hotel when you thought something happened to me?” he interrupts.

Kaya falls silent. Her heart hammers; she thinks of his words an hour ago, of the last time he’d come to Amsterdam, of Chris Park and feels moments away from crumbling.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispers. “I don’t know what you want anymore.”

“I want you to be safe,” he answers immediately. “And I don’t know if this is the way to go about it but I had to do something. How inadequate of a boyfriend would I be if I did nothing?”

Kaya shakes her head. There are too many things she can say in response to that but it’s hurting too much to argue. “You bought a new phone?” she asks instead.

“What? Yeah.”

“What happened to your old one?”

“It broke.”

She raises her eyebrows, albeit not very surprised. “How?”

Namjoon hesitates. “I threw it at a wall.”

It’s enough to give pause. She wants to ask if it was on purpose; something in his expression tells her it was and if it was out of anger, she can’t think what would have set him off that badly.

She decides she doesn’t want to know. Fishing her own three year old iPhone out of her back pocket, she taps on the screen. “If I toss my phone to you, will you catch it? Because a new phone is not something I can afford right now.”

Amidst everything, a shadow of doubt passes across his face. “I mean, I can - I can try.” He bends his knees slightly and holds his hands in front of him, like a wicketkeeper, looking tense. For a brief moment, Kaya almost smiles.

“Okay.” She glances at her phone screen and bites her lip. If she shows him this, there’s no going back. Then she shakes her head. “Here goes,” she mutters, carefully tossing her phone in a clean arc and aiming as closely as she can for his hands.

Namjoon winces and still fumbles it, but thankfully manages to avoid it hitting the ground. Sighing in relief, he straightens up and turns the screen towards him, and she can see him type her security code with his thumb. Kaya watches him carefully, her heart sinking when she sees his expression drop and all the colour leave his face.

“What - what the hell is this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, and looking nauseous.

“Read it,” she says quietly. The characters on the piece of paper are foreign to her but aren’t to him, and the moment she’d seen it, even through the shock, the first thing she’d done was snap a picture of it. “Out loud.”

“No, I’m not going to read it out loud.” He shakes his head, looking paler than ever. “Kaya, what is -” His voice cracks.

“It was taped to my front door a couple of weeks ago,” she says listlessly. “I tried translating it on Google but nothing made sense, so I asked Dilara’s friend Chris to help me out.” She recalls Chris’s confusion at her pointed question, followed by horror and embarrassment. She’d had to urge him to be honest with her and he’d finally, after a long time and profuse apologies, typed back in English: you’re dead namjoon’s whore.

Namjoon is staring at her phone screen, motionless except for his hands shaking. “I just don’t understand,” he whispers, closing his eyes and lowering the phone, “why you still want to be with me. After all this, after being stalked and now this? After getting actual threats?”

She rolls her eyes even as her stomach twists with the memory of that day. “Who says I still want to be with you?”

He ignores this, exhaling shakily. “Are you okay? Did you - wait, how did this even happen? I put out a statement that I was single.”

“Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t care - I don’t give a shit. But it happened.”

Namjoon swallows. “Fuck. What - what do we do? Tell me what I can -“

“You don’t have to do anything. The person who did it got caught on the building’s security camera. I called the cops and they charged her with harassment and I got a restraining order, too. But I guess my apartment is truly a loose cannon now, so…” She sighs. “I’m moving. I found a new place that’s closer to campus. It’s a little more expensive so I probably won’t be able to afford food for a while,” she adds with a roll of her eyes. “But, yeah. I’ve been staying on campus since then. I officially move in this weekend.”

Her explanation is followed by almost a minute of silence. “You’re staying on campus?” he asks softly.

Kaya notes the change in his voice and knows exactly what he’s referring to. “I don’t have a choice. But… it’s not so bad. I don’t stay out too late unless I’m with someone.” She bites her lip. “It’s only for a couple of more days.”

“Fuck. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah. Hard as it is for you to believe, I can actually take care of myself.”

“I’ve never doubted you or your ability to take care of yourself, Kaya. I only -“

“No, you just doubted me enough to make a decision to end our relationship all on your own.” Kaya scoffs quietly, even as her chest feels lighter. She’d asked Dilara not to tell him but now that he knows… it feels right somehow.

“It took every bit of strength I had in me to leave you, Kaya,” he confessed. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” she bursts, her frustration exploding. “You were on tour! You were working but you dropped it in a second for me when I called you! You missed a fan meeting, you took an eight hour flight from a different continent - you did everything! Every single thing I could’ve asked of you! Until you left,” she finishes abruptly, feeling her eyes start to well up again.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker. “But… I didn’t - that’s not what I -“

“I was terrified after the break-in, Namjoon,” she reminds him, “and the only thing that was keeping me going was that you were still there. But after this, I -“ She shakes her head, the debilitating fear reappearing in flashes. “I was terrified all over again but this time I couldn’t call you.”

He steps forward. “Kaya, you can always call me -“

“No, I can’t,” she interrupts him, snapping incredulously. “You’re my ex - I can’t run to you if I’m in trouble anymore. That’s what it means to break up. God, Joon, I didn’t need you to fix it for me - I just needed you to be there. You think you were an inadequate boyfriend because of the break-in?” She scoffs. “You were the perfect boyfriend for the first eighteen hours after that. This was when you let me down, because you weren’t there for me when I needed you!”

Namjoon shakes his head slowly, his lower lip trembling. Through everything, his devastation at her words is clear as day. Placing her phone on the side table in the hallway, he takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and doesn’t stop until he reaches her. Their eyes meet briefly before he wraps his arms around her and for a moment, he takes her breath away.

She can feel his heart pounding through his chest, just under her palm. It’s fast and irregular, but it’s still familiar and for the first time in two weeks, Kaya closes her eyes and feels some of the heaviness in her chest disappear.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling against her hair. “Fuck, I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Kaya. I’m so, so sorry…”

She nods silently, not wanting to cry out loud because the relief - even a momentary relief - is so overwhelming that she just wants it to last a little longer. From living on a college campus after years to having to leave her small, cosy haven of an apartment, she exhales shakily into his shoulder and finally relaxes because this… this is safe.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “and I wish I could keep you safe from everything, baby, but I just don’t know how.” His voice cracks on the last word.

“You can’t,” she answers thickly but firmly. “And I don’t expect you to. But… Joon, you broke my heart,” she confesses, sniffling.

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…” He takes a deep breath, lips pressed to the side of her head. “Did you really mean what you said at the hotel? Even after all this? Because if you did… I’m yours, baby, if you’ll still have me.”

Kaya’s heart skips a beat. “You’re really fucking skinny,” she murmurs into his neck. “What the hell happened?”

Namjoon scoffs quietly but doesn’t answer. Slowly, as though it’s the biggest struggle in the world, his arms loosen. “Kaya,” he says.

She sighs and steps out of his arms, hating every moment of it. “I did mean it,” she admits. “But I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone who won’t let me be a part of it.”

He shakes his head. “That was never my intention. I just wanted to help - I know I went about it the wrong way but that’s all I wanted. I swear.”

“No, Joon, I’m not doubting your intentions, okay? But it’s not fair. It can’t just be your decision every time. You’re the leader, the point of contact, the eldest son, big brother - whatever. I don’t care,” she says flatly. “But you are not in charge of this. Of us. You don’t have to be,” she adds after a moment, softer.

Namjoon lowers his head, his gaze on the floor, and nods. “I understand what you’re saying,” he says slowly, “but it’s really hard to see a piece of paper calling you… that -“ he says through his teeth, jaw clenching “and not feel angry about it.”

“You’re just going to have to try.”

“Yeah? Do you remember at your friend Alex’s birthday when you “accidentally” -“ He puts quotation marks around the word “- spilled that guy’s drink onto his phone? The one who thought I didn’t understand English and called me an Asian wannabe who should stick to math instead of playing at rap?”

Kaya feels her face go slack. “That - that was an accident. Not to mention completely different,” she tacks on when he gives her a look indicating he doesn’t believe her. “I was pissed but I didn’t take it out on you.”

“I - I know. You’re right, Kaya. I’m sorry,” he repeats, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “I get it. My guilt, my problem.”

“No,” she disagrees, seeing him look up in surprise. “No guilt at all. Namjoon, if I choose to be with you, knowing what I know, then it’s my decision. And if there is guilt… God, just talk to me about it. Because this whole suffering in silence thing? I’m over it.”

Namjoon nods. “You and Yoongi both,” he mutters dryly. When she simply sighs and looks away, he speaks again. “So, are you? Choosing to be with me?”

Kaya takes a deep breath, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. “I don’t know. God, I am so mad at you,” she mutters, dropping her face in her hands.

He doesn’t argue. She can feel his eyes on her but doesn’t want to get swayed, not by how horrified he looked when she showed him the note, how disappointed he seemed in himself when she unleashed her frustration at him, or now, with so much doubt and vulnerability in his voice.

A sound startles her out of her silence and she turns to see Dilara poke her head out from behind the wall in the direction of the master bedroom.

“Heeeey,” she says slowly, as Taehyung’s head appears similarly above hers. “Didn’t, uh, mean to interrupt… but we kind of have to…” She points to the front door sheepishly.

Kaya nods jerkily, having sort of forgotten that they are in Dilara’s house. Her face heats up when she thinks about how much they might have heard; she takes care not to meet either of their eyes as they traipse out, fully dressed for a night out.

“So… are you sure you guys don’t want to come?” Dilara asks doubtfully. “It might be fun?”

“We’re meeting Chris and Lexie at a bar,” adds Taehyung helpfully, ignoring Dilara when she corrects him with “pub” and tosses his long bangs out of his eyes, “… in case you need a drink.” He raises his eyebrows.

Kaya can’t think of anything she wants less than to be in a crowded pub, but she turns to Namjoon anyway who’s looking back at her with his hands in his pockets.

“I think we’ll sit this one out,” she answers after a moment, watching him for his reaction. “We… kind of need to talk.”

“Okay, then.” Dilara pulls out her phone. “I’ll text Chris that we only need a table for four, then.”

“The same Chris?” Namjoon mutters to Kaya, who nods.

“Yeah. Buy him a drink on me?” She suggests to Dilara. “Kind of owe him.”

Namjoon half-chuckles without humour and Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you told him?” When Kaya nods, she sighs. “That’s a relief. I was feeling sick keeping it to myself.”

“Wait, you knew?” Namjoon frowns, his jaw sharp.

“Well, yeah - Chris is my friend and he is terrible at keeping secrets so I had -“

“Hang on - how could you not tell me?” he interrupts her, and she falls silent. “Dilara, seriously?”

“I didn’t -“

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” Taehyung steps in front of her, frowning handsomely. “Hyung,” he tacks on after a moment.

“Namjoon, come on,” says Kaya, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back a step. “I asked her and Chris not to.”

He opens his mouth to say something but then simply sighs and shakes his head, hands on his hips. Behind Taehyung, Dilara glares at him.

“Now I really need a drink,” she mutters, starting to head towards the door. Taehyung gives Namjoon a knowing look as he follows her out and the front door closes behind them.

Namjoon sighs. “What is wrong with me?” he mutters, running his hands tiredly down his face.

Kaya bites her lip. Under different circumstances, she would be pulling him into a hug right now, ignoring his half-hearted protests until he gave up and hugged her back, his hold getting tighter with every passing second.

But things are different now.

“I have a theory,” she says finally. “Come with me.”

—

Namjoon watches as Kaya examines Dilara’s kitchen cabinets, frowning and humming to herself. She stands on her tiptoes and rummages inside a box and he hesitates before looking away, distinctly feeling as though he hasn’t yet earned the right to check her out without her knowledge.

“Insanely understocked,” she declares, retrieving a box of Pop Tarts and heading towards the toaster. “But we’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

“Sure.”

She glances back at him briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want a beer?” she asks him, gesturing to her newly opened can, the condensation still only just forming. “It’s terribly hot.”

It is and he would love a beer right now. But he shakes his head. “I don’t think I should be drinking Dilara’s booze right now,” he mutters, wincing inwardly.

Kaya’s eyes linger on him for a moment before she turns around and starts placing the Pop Tarts into the toaster. “You can have a sip from mine,” she offers.

Namjoon shakes his head. “That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stand there in the kitchen, the six feet of distance between them feeling like a chasm. But it’s the closest he’s been to her in months and he can’t help but take in her presence, drinking it in for as long as he can.

Kaya casually picks up her can and takes a long sip, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Oh, that feels good.”

Namjoon suppresses a chuckle. “Alright, then. I’ll have a sip.” His heart skips a beat almost painfully when a smile flashes across her face and she silently hands him the can.

“Oh, God,” he mumbles, swallowing a sip and pressing the cold tin to his cheek. “Oh, man, this is everything.”

Kaya raises an eyebrow but says nothing, moving to pick up the toasted Pop Tarts. Piling them onto a plate, she pushes it towards him. “Eat.”

“What?”

“Eat,” she repeats, dropping another batch into the toaster. “It’s good.”

Namjoon’s gaze falls on the packet, the huge animated chocolate staring back at him. “I - I’m on tour,” he murmurs, a little apologetic.

Kaya looks as though she’s about to insist but then simply shrugs. “Okay, then.” Picking up a Pop Tart, she takes a small bite.

Sighing, Namjoon takes one, finishing it in three bites. It’s better than he’d anticipated; he takes another, and another after that and before he knows it, he’s eaten six.

“Wow,” he says, staring at the crumbs on the plate.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll burn that before the next concert, right?” he asks hopefully.

“I doubt it. I can already see it hitting your thighs.”

He gives her a look that she returns, still finishing her second Pop Tart. She heads to the fridge and retrieves another can of beer, sliding it to him.

“Just drink it,” she tells him before he can decline again. “Dilara has a whole carton in here. And I have her express permission.”

Pausing for a moment, he cracks open the can and holds it up. She clinks hers with it and they drink together in silence. They don’t speak again until they’re out of the kitchen and in the softly lit dining room.

Kaya takes a seat at the head of the table, lifting her feet up on the edge of the chair and hugging her knees. Namjoon sits on the adjacent chair, wishing he could pull her chair closer to him.

“How’s tour going?” she asks softly.

Small talk. She’s trying, and Namjoon’s heart fills with cautious hope. “Tiring,” he answers. “I can barely keep track of which city we’re in. But I’m writing a lot,” he adds.

She tilts her head. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Jetlag?”

“Sure.”

He waits to see a flicker of knowing on her face before smiling back at her. Before the break-in, they had discussed Kaya joining him on tour for some of their European concerts. He wonders if she still remembers, and how different the tour would be right now.

“I heard you got published,” he says, adoring how she smiles involuntarily at it, part shy and part proud. “I can’t believe it. Or, I can. Just - congratulations,” he says sheepishly. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks. It was a lot of work and a lot of iterations -” She shakes her head and takes a drink. “But career-wise, it’s a pretty decent step. And I get royalties on it, so that makes two of us now.” She raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. “It was worth the late nights.”

Late nights. Namjoon wants to ask and he has a feeling she wants to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to presume. Hesitating, he places his arm on the table towards her, his palm facing up. Kaya doesn’t move, though, and for a moment he can feel his throat close up.

But then she gingerly lifts her hand, pauses, and eventually places it in his. It’s unsure and guarded, but it’s more than he could hope for. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soft and delicate, and he’s more grateful than ever that she doesn’t move away.

“Do you still stay late in the library?” he asks.

Kaya’s eyes stay on their hands as she shakes her head. “I prefer working out of the dorm room. It faces the river so the breeze is much cooler. And my roommate plays a lot of old school rock so that’s nice, too.” She nods to herself, her gaze unmoving. “I don’t like being there,” she whispers.

Namjoon says nothing and simply squeezes her hand. Ordinarily, this would again be one of those moments when he would have stood up and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms and silently letting her vent.

“I can’t sleep either,” she confesses after a moment. “So I guess that makes two of us, too.”

He tilts his head, hoping she’ll look up at him. “I get why you couldn’t call me before. But you can now. You know that, right?” he asks gently. “For the next few weeks, we’ll actually be in similar timezones for once.”

She cracks a smile but still doesn’t look up. “I might just take you up on that. I’ll start moving my stuff into the apartment the moment I get back, anyway, so when I actually get possession, I’m done.”

“That’s a good idea. Actually, if you want,” he ventures hopefully, “I could help.”

“Help me move in?”

“Yeah. If you want,” he repeats, trying not to sound nonchalant. “Our concert isn’t till Saturday and we’re supposed to have a radio show on Friday but I can take a couple of days off to -”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” she starts to say, but Namjoon shakes his head.

“I don’t think the company will mind,” he offers, thinking privately that even if he does have to argue with them a bit, how completely worth it it would be.

Kaya bites her fingernail, observing him. Then she shrugs. “Alright. If you want.”

He nods slowly, continuing his attempt at the nonchalance. “And, uh… I’ll book a hotel. If you want,” he says again, “you can - you can… stay. Over.” He bites his lip. “If you don’t want to stay on campus.”

Some of her casual facade breaks. “Really?”

“Yeah. And - and don’t worry, it’ll be big enough so you don’t - I mean, we don’t -” He breaks off and cringes inwardly.

Kaya raises her eyebrows. “Separate beds?”

A half-chuckle passes his lips, for it sounds ridiculous. “Yeah. Separate beds.”

“You don’t think we can control ourselves in the same bed?”

“I think it’ll take everything we have in us to do it,” he admits boldly. “But I think we can.”

She doesn’t answer but tries to suppress a smile. On the table, her hand feels looser in his. He’s just about to say something when her phone buzzes next to her and she automatically reaches for it, letting go of his hand.

“Everything okay?” he asks when she clicks her tongue.

“Yeah,” she sighs, scrolling through a message presumably. “Got a quiz to grade by the weekend. And it’s a finance elective so I’m going to need the prep material from - from the professor.” She sets the phone down but doesn’t look up at him again.

Namjoon lowers his hand as well, something like a dark cloud feeling like it’s just appeared above them. “Are you sure you’ll be okay staying with me?” he asks in a low voice, looking at his knees as the incongruity of the question creeps into his chest. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t feel any pressure.”

He nods. “It’s just… I know we were - are technically apart for a while. It wouldn’t be strange if you… you know.”

Kaya takes a few moments before answering. “Well, I’m not,” she clarifies. “And also… Namjoon, I didn’t have sex with Adam.”

Namjoon feels his gaze freeze on the leg of her chair. “What?”

She sighs hugely, turning away when he slowly looks up to face her. “I didn’t sleep with him. I just said that to piss you off,” she confesses. “It was stupid and petty and childish, but… yeah. I lied.”

There’s a roaring in Namjoon’s ears, like a sugar rush in his veins after months of dieting. He feels like he could sing, and the restraint to not jump to his feet and yell in relief almost causes him to have a hernia. Clenching his fists in gratitude at his sides, he nods with difficulty.

“Oh. That’s - that’s… interesting.”

Kaya narrows her eyes and gives him a look, clearly not fooled by his forced nonchalance. But Namjoon doesn’t care. The sleepless nights and never-finding flights where his own brain continued to punish him by generating the most traumatic images feel like nightmares from a different lifetime.

“We did kiss,” she admits after a moment, and Namjoon’s heart sinks a little. “After a few drinks. But we agreed it was a mistake. And I’m not saying you were right,” she adds quickly, as when he rests his chin on his palm and places his fingers over his mouth, “because he didn’t push or get weird about it, but there’s a chance you may have been… kind of… on the right track.”

Namjoon could kick him - but then again, by her own admission, it sounds like the least troubling thing to happen to Kaya over the last few months.

“Okay,” he manages.

She pauses, then looks at her hands. “What about you? Have you…”

“No.”

“Not even…”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” She takes another sip of her beer, a big one, and doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “Are you hungry?” she asks suddenly. “There’s, like, a crazy amount of ramen in this house.”

Namjoon doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t been around ramen in a long while, or if it’s because it’s Kaya who’s asking, but for the first time in a long time, his stomach rumbles.

—

It’s nearing one am when Dilara returns home.

Namjoon is jerked out of the small, comfortable, familiar bubble with Kaya on the sofa where they moved after consuming two steaming bowls of soupy ramen. A glass of rosé each, they’re sitting face to face with their sides against the back of the sofa, only their knees touching ever so slightly to maintain the distance.

“Wait, no… it’s this part -” Kaya pauses and concentrates on the song playing at a low volume from the neighbouring apartment. “... can’t help… falling in love with you… and that’s the trumpet,” she finishes, the UB40 cover coming to a peppy end. “This was dad’s favourite song - I know it inside out.”

“Fine, you were right,” he admits. “Whoever this is probably has the most varied music taste I’ve ever seen, though. Eminem, Guns N Roses, Camilla Cabello and then Elvis?”

“And Nsync before that,” she adds. “Maybe it’s multiple people. Oh, wait - I know this song.” She wrinkles her nose as the guitar picks up, apparently having mistaken it for something else, when the front door opens. “Shit,” she mutters, startled.

“Hey, we’re back,” calls Dilara, sounding slightly wary. Multiple footsteps follow her in, followed by a mixture of conversing and laughing.

“Komyshan, is yesterday’s pizza still in the fridge?” Chris Park asks, shuffling in and taking off his jacket.

“Check for yourself, Park,” mutters Lexie, kicking off her shoes. “Hey, guys,” she says to Kaya and Namjoon, who wave back. “Wow, the neighbours aren’t even trying to keep it quiet, are they?”

“Oh, wait, I know this song!” Taehyung exclaims, and he and Dilara look at each other in excitement before breaking out into grins.

“I haven’t heard Tous les garçons et les filles since… wow, since that day?” She beams when he winks at her and starts swaying by himself to the music, shoulders and all.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows as the renewed chatter and chaos in the apartment continues, and he can’t help but feel a little sorry that the rare time he was having with Kaya has been cut short.

“I’d hang out but I’m exhausted,” groans Lexie, downing an entire tall glass of water. “And drunk,” she adds after a moment. “So I’m going to bed but I’ll see you all in the morning. Goodnight.” She glances deliberately at Chris before departing in the direction of her room.

Namjoon frowns as Chris nibbles on the last of a pizza crust, while Dilara raises an eyebrow at him. “Goodnight, everyone,” he mutters abruptly, following Lexie. A moment later, they hear the sound of the door closing.

Dilara rolls her eyes and gently pushes Taehyung in the direction of the kitchen. “You should drink some water, too, babe…”

Taehyung faintly says something in response and floats towards Dilara’s room instead but Namjoon glances at Kaya, who silently cocks her head towards the dining room. Nodding and feeling vaguely anxious, he gets up and goes over to where they were sitting earlier and talking. Dilara is bringing out a bowl of fruit, piled high with apples, bananas and grapes when she catches sight of him and quickly looks away.

“Hey,” he says gingerly, stopping at the dining table where she continues bustling around, twisting her long curly hair into a loose knot. “How was your night?” When all he gets is a shrug in response, he places his drink on the table and rallies. “Thanks for… hosting, I guess. Your apartment’s really nice.”

“Mhm.”

With renewed respect for Taehyung, Namjoon continues. “And, uh… oh, Kaya talked me into a glass of this wine. It’s delicious. Where did you get it from?”

“Harrods.”

“Great. I think we drank about a fourth of it tonight. Can I buy you another one to replace it?”

Without warning, Dilara turns around on her heel and places one hand on her hip. Despite being a foot shorter than him, she startles him into taking an automatic step back.

“Are you bribing me?”

Namjoon swallows and frowns, pressing his tongue to his upper lip. “Is it working?” When she narrows her eyes at him, he sighs. “I’m sorry I snapped. That wasn’t right of me.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know? Why do you think I invited her to stay here?”

“I know. You’re right. It’s just…” He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s been an emotional night.”

Her features soften slightly. “Been apologising a lot tonight, have you?” But she doesn’t sound sarcastic - more curious.

He glances at Kaya who’s still in the living room, leaning against the arm of the sofa and watching them, her glass of wine now empty and resting on her thighs.

“Kind of.” He lowers his head. “Guess I had it coming, though. But it’s been a lot better than I expected,” he adds, realising as he says it that it’s true, that even the distant, cautious dynamic was miles ahead of what he could have hoped for.

Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Are you back together?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“Not yet,” he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But soon, maybe. I hope.”

She purses her lips. “Well, she’s angry, I suppose. But she’s missed you, too,” she adds after a moment. “And she knows why you did what you did… even if it was a shit idea.” She smiles innocently when he gives her a look. “Her words, not mine.”

“Alright.” He exhales, reaching over and affectionately grabbing her head. “Are we cool, though?”

“I guess.” She pauses, then rolls her eyes dramatically and accepts his hug, the top of her head just about reaching his shoulder. “But only if you do the robot at least once on stage at your next concert,” she decides as they separate.

“What’s that now?”

“You heard me. Oh, and it has to be during a sad song, not a dancey one.”

“I - fine,” he agrees, rolling his eyes and privately dreading the next performance already, grateful for Kaya as she joins them.

“Everything okay over here?” she asks delicately. “Because it kind of looked like you were going to get your ass kicked for a second there,” she tells Namjoon.

“Oh, no,” says Namjoon. “It’s much worse. I have to do the robot on stage on Saturday and possibly go viral for looking like an idiot,” he guesses, fixing Dilara with a pleading look, who simply shakes her head.

“Forgiveness has its price,” she says wisely.

“It’s like placating a kid,” points out Kaya. “Which kind of adds up, probably - you used to say you were kind of like a babysitter to these guys.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes again and, without thinking, places an arm around Kaya’s shoulder. There’s a moment of awkwardness when he remembers where they are and he’s about to drop it, but then she seemingly leans into it out of habit, and he lets it stay.

“Hey, what are we talking about?” Taehyung appears from behind them and accidentally brushes Namjoon’s arm. As he makes way for his group member, Namjoon has no choice but to drop his arm to his side. “We’re out of toothpaste, by the way,” he says, nudging Dilara’s shoulder.

“We’re talking about what it’s like to have kids,” offers Kaya. “And the lengths you have to go to for them.”

“Kids?” Taehyung frowns slightly as he pops a grape into his mouth before looking straight at his girlfriend. “I’d like to have kids with you.”

All traces of the smirk on Dilara’s face drop at his words. “That - that isn’t even close to what we were talking about.”

“I always used to think three, but I think four is a nice, round number.”

“Taehyung,” she interrupts him, while Namjoon snorts and Kaya watches in amusement, “shut up. We were only saying that -”

“We’ll need a minivan to fit four, though. With three we still have a chance to have at least one boy and one girl, no?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course. Three, minimum,” he decides seriously. “And I think we should name the oldest one Princess. Even if it’s a boy.”

Dilara glares at him before rolling her eyes. “That’s my cue to leave. Goodnight,” she states.

She turns around and leaves, Taehyung casually following her. As they disappear around the corner, Namjoon can hear him go, “But, jagiya, think how gorgeous you’ll be pregnant…”

“Shut up, Tae, I’m serious…”

There’s a fading sound of rustling and groaning and giggling before the sound of a door closing shut. Finally alone again after a fifteen minute fever dream of some truly unexpected chaos, Namjoon glances at Kaya.

“You must be tired,” he murmurs.

She shrugs. “I guess.” She starts to walk towards the guest room, the only one in the main area of the apartment, and stops a few feet away from the door. “My flight’s tomorrow evening,” she says.

He nods, reasonably sure of why she’s telling him this. “I’ll be there on Wednesday morning. If, you know, you’re still okay with…”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Cool. I’ll have to be back Friday for rehearsal, though,” he says, slightly apologetic.

“That’s okay. I appreciate the help.”

There’s a silence, an expectant one. They spent hours talking today, with topics ranging from their relationship to the most minor, unimportant things. But there’s no avoiding it now - whatever happens next feels foundational.

Namjoon’s brain is working in overdrive, trying to decide the right thing to say, when the sounds begin. Kaya’s jaw drops and she turns her head halfway before shaking it, her eyes wide.

“Is that -”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters tightly. “In a happy coincidence, Taehyung’s room is right next to mine at the dorm, so this is… not the first time,” he informs her, squeezing his eyes shut.

When the muffled sounds only get louder, Kaya covers her mouth in shock. “Okay, I’m going to bed,” she says quickly. “Um, goodnight.”

Namjoon’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Kaya.” There’s a painful pause after which he takes a hesitant step forward, raising his arms slightly.

Kaya exhales and meets him halfway, reaching up and hugging him. It’s comforting and hopeful and Namjoon holds her tight, trying to block out the sounds but instead becoming more aware than ever of the shape of her body against him, the coconut and vanilla scent of her hair and her bare legs under her shorts.

They separate slowly, and she takes a step back. Giving him a small, silent wave, she backs up and opens her bedroom door. Namjoon watches as she steps inside and moves to close the door when she pauses, and a moment later, leaves it open.

He frowns. It takes him a beat. Then two. The sounds from Dilara’s room seem to be in no position to stop anytime soon and in a split second, Namjoon makes the decision to follow Kaya inside, closing the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

84 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

chae needs to change her bios on every social to bubblegum punk actually!

omg she did NOT bounce on their plans! chae!!!! uuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhh

Past Lives (Hoseok x OC)

Summary: Faced with an ambiguous relationship from your past, you start to doubt your blossoming relationship with Hoseok.

Pairing: Hoseok x OC

Genre: I wish I could tell you what genre this is but let's go with contemplative flangst (fluff + angst)

Word count: 4.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of parental death

A/N: A lot of OC focus in this one. Takes place about a month after Caterpillar, the same weekend as A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld @xjoonchildx @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids

Listen to: "it's hard to get around the wind" by alex turner

hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Chaeyoung spots the restaurant across the street and checks the map on her phone to make sure it’s the right one. A notification pops up on the top of her screen at the same time.

Hoseok [12:40] This interview is taking a bit longer than expected. I’ll keep you posted.

Her heart leaps lightly, unexpectedly. It’s not that she’s looking forward to hanging out with him exactly, but amidst the chaos of his tour, it’s the friendly thing to do to catch up with him during the few days he is in town.

Right below Hoseok’s message, though, is the one she’d gotten earlier today - unexpected, but unavoidable.

Hi, Chaeyoung! How are you, darling? I’m in Seoul for the weekend and I was hoping we could grab lunch if you’re free? I would love to see you. Let me know!

Hesitating for a fraction of a second outside the restaurant, she wonders if she can still fake an excuse and make a break for it. But then she sighs, knowing she won’t do that. Once, she might have - and she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But the years have passed and Chaeyoung has grown, and while the past may not have escaped her mind entirely, her reaction to it certainly has.

Stepping in, she’s about to ask the hostess about a possible reservation but then spots a table for two at the far end next to a large window, already half-occupied. Taking a deep breath, she walks over, waving when her companion looks up and spots her.

“Chaeyoung!” Soyeon’s face lights up, the faint smile lines creasing around her eyes. She stands up and moves towards Chaeyoung as if about to give her a hug but hesitates at the last moment. Chaeyoung pauses as well, before leaning forward a bit and meeting her stepmother in a slightly awkward hug.

“This is a really nice restaurant,” remarks Soyeon as they sit down. “Especially these little menus on every table,” she adds, touching the framed cocktail menu with white waves around the edges, a little trinket hanging on the side with a string. “Good choice.”

“A friend told me about it,” says Chaeyoung, glancing out of the corner of her eye at her stepmother. In her late forties, she looks fresh out of a lifestyle magazine, her long summer dress modern but with a subtle bohemian print along the edges. Years ago, that kind of clothing used to make Chaeyoung fume, for it wasn’t what the rest of the mothers wore and Soyeon stood out like a sore thumb. Today, she can’t help but appreciate the originality, wondering if trends really had changed so much over the years.

“Oh, before I forget -” Seoyeon rummages through her white tote bag and retrieves a clear box with gold tape around it. “Tim Tams. They restocked it at the Foodhall in the mall after ages.”

It takes all of Chaeyoung’s willpower to not lunge for the box. Hands trembling slightly, she takes it at a normal pace, exhaling at the sight of her favourite dessert in the whole wide world. “I - oh, my God. I haven’t had these in so long. I’d given up on ever having these again.” She bites her lip. “Thank you.”

Soyeon beams. “I haven’t seen them in a long time either but I had to go to the mall yesterday to buy a couple of things for the trip, so I thought I’d stop and check.” She shrugs, clearly relieved at Chaeyoung’s reaction. “Guess I got lucky.”

“I mean, I’m dieting right now but Tim Tams I can make an exception for.”

“Why -” Soyeon frowns but stops abruptly. “Well, as long as you enjoy them.” She smiles as Chaeyoung sets the box to the side. There’s a few seconds of silence; now that the initial bit of this lunch has gone without any major hiccups, the pressure to keep the delicate cordiality going is surfacing. A waiter appears and a couple of minutes are occupied while they order drinks (margarita for Soyeon, mojito for Chaeyoung), and then the silence returns.

Soyeon speaks first. “So… how’s work going?” She leans forward with her hands clasped under her chin. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Um, I guess.” Chaeyoung shrugs. “It was a bit daunting at first but I think I’m getting the hang of it.” Not sure how to elaborate further, she lets her eyes wander to the rest of the room. She was right: it is a nice restaurant, breezy and floral, with tons of natural light.

“Your brother mentioned you might have to start travelling a bit,” she says, as their drinks arrive. At that moment, Chaeyoung’s phone lights up on the table.

Hoseok [12:55] The blooper reel for this interview is going to be so embarrassing. Who serves drinks and then tells jokes?

“Cheers?”

“Oh -” Chaeyoung, who had been about to absently take a sip, sheepishly clinks her glass with Soeyon’s. “I don’t know. No one’s said anything yet. I did have to go to Busan last year to cover the arts festival but -” She shrugs. “Nothing since then.”

“You covered the arts festival? That’s amazing!”

“Well, not really covered,” she clarifies, not really wanting to get into something she’d been bemoaning for a while last year. But then she catches sight of Soyeon’s full attention on her and something loosens in her stomach. “I’m still just doing research. It’s not bad, but… you know what, it’s fine. Not everyone in Conde Nast who wants to become a columnist actually becomes one,” she mutters, taking another sip of her drink.

Soyeon nods sympathetically. “I understand. Everyone starts at the bottom but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get frustrating now and then. But don’t give up,” she adds after a moment. “You have the talent.”

Chaeyoung frowns. “For research?”

“For writing.” She gives her a look. “You used to always do so well in your Korean language class - oh, and you won that essay competition, too.”

Her memories stir. “That was… eighth grade,” she murmurs, touching the edge of her fork. “I think the quality of writing at Conde Nast is probably higher than that.” She glances up to see Soyeon nod and look away. “But… you’re right. I didn’t even remember that competition,” she admits.

Soyeon raises her eyebrows. “It was a beautiful essay. The one about the mother searching for her children after the tsunami? Drove me and your father to tears when we read it.”

“Really?” Chaeyoung frowns, a faint smile appearing on her face. “My dad?”

“Oh, yes. He pretended he didn’t but I saw him tear up.” She grins. “Everyone was very proud of you that day.”

Chaeyoung says nothing. It’s coming back to her now, the fact that her father couldn’t make it to the middle school award ceremony because he worked long hours back then. Soyeon had offered to come but Chaeyoung had immediately rebuffed that by claiming only babies brought their parents along to things like this. The only person who had been cheering for her in the audience was Chanyeol - and his best friend who had been begrudgingly dragged along.

As the waiter stops by again to take their food order, Chaeyoung sneaks a glance at her phone, hoping to see another message from Hoseok. But there isn’t one; pursing her lips, she locks the screen and places it next to her plate.

“So what else is going on with you?”

“Oh, um -“ Chaeyoung tears her eyes away from her phone. “Nothing, really. How’s my dad?” she asks after a moment.

“He’s okay. Getting a little restless after retirement, but he’s adjusting.” Soyeon gives her a small smile. “He really misses you two.”

Chaeyoung tries not to scoff. “Chanyeol, maybe.”

But Soyeon shakes her head. “You, too. He tells everyone that his daughter works for a big magazine in Seoul.”

“But his son works for a tech company in Busan. The saddest day of his life was the day my brother moved out,” she points out. She looks up to see Soyeon’s expression shift to resemble something like sympathy, and immediately changes the subject. “Do you talk to him often?”

“Chanyeol? Sometimes. I travel to Busan every few months so we catch up if he has the time.”

Chaeyoung frowns slightly, unsure of what kind of answer she was expecting. It was no secret that as kids, he got along with their stepmother much better than she did, making an effort to be polite to a grown-up.

The food arrives then and Chaeyoung clings to a couple of minutes of silence as they dig into their plates of pasta. She wonders briefly why her brother hasn’t brought up Soyeon in their conversations if they indeed talk that often.

“He told me about his new girlfriend,” says Soyeon, sprinkling some oregano on her plate. “She sounds great.”

“Hayoung? Yeah, they were in the same class in school. She, Chan, Hoseok - all of them. She’s nice.”

“What about you?” She raises her eyebrows with a smile. “Any special boys in your life?”

Ignoring the weak jolt of her heart, Chaeyoung shakes her head. “From high school? Not a single one. I don’t think boys started liking me like that until college.”

“Well, Chanyeol was quite protective of you,” says Soyeon in a matter-of-fact way. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the boys in school thought twice about messing with you.”

It’s not that it’s a surprise, really, but she feels a sudden rush of affection for her brother. She remembers the ice creams and the free use of all his toys and his generosity with pocket money, but maybe it extended further than that. Maybe, just maybe, her childhood idea of she and her brother being a team against the world wasn’t entirely in her head.

“He can get annoying sometimes, too,” she says nonchalantly, recolving to call him later tonight, just to chat. “He pesters me endlessly to download this app that’s supposed to track my spending and savings for me.”

Soyeon doesn’t say anything but the look in her eyes makes it clear she isn’t fooled by the blasé tone. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.” She scoops up her phone and slides out of the chair, walking away as her dress flows behind her.

Chaeyoung picks up her phone. There isn’t a message from Hoseok yet, but she sends him one anyway.

Chaeyoung [13:30] Having one of the stranger afternoons of my life. I’ll tell you about it later. If you’re ever done with your interview, that is.

She sends both messages, hoping a second later that she isn’t coming across as desperate. She begins to panic but then a reply appears.

Hoseok [13:32] Can’t wait to hear all about it.

Her heart leaps as Soyeon returns, a faint citrus scent following her. “Sorry about that. What is it?” she asks.

“What is what?”

“You were smiling just now.”

“Oh.” This isn’t a topic she wants to get into with anyone, least of all her stepmother. There’s the latent fear that whoever she talks to will automatically think she’s regressed into her obsessive teenage self, while the much more real fear is that it might just be true.

It’s not just you. He kissed you, too. He’s texting you, too. He wants to hang out with you, too.

The mantra repeats itself in her head, objective truths that make all the difference between their old dynamic and their new one.

“It’s nothing.”

Soyeon pauses but evidently lets it go. “Okay. Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s not really the kind of thing I wanted to say over the phone.” She licks her lips, looking slightly nervous.

“Okay,” says Chaeyoung slowly, setting down her phone and sitting back in her chair.

“Um… so, your father and I… well, we’re doing our estate planning. You know, working on our wills.”

“Why?” Chaeyoung asks sharply, hearing the sudden anxiety in her own voice. “What’s - what’s wrong with -”

“No, nothing!” Soyeon shakes her head immediately, holding up her hands. “Your father is fine. It’s just run of the mill stuff, you know. Just so we have all our affairs in order. Nothing is wrong,” she clarifies, waiting for Chaeyoung to nod before continuing. “So… he is, of course, dividing his assets between you and your brother, but since I don’t have children of my own…” She clears her throat, eyes flickering downward.

Chaeyoung says nothing. This conversation is taking an unexpected route and this is the last topic she wants to deal with today.

“Well… there are some things I own that I would’ve probably left to my daughter, if I had one. Jewellery and the like, things I got for my wedding - and I’m not saying you’re my daughter or that I’m your -” She clarifies quickly, and Chaeyoung nods again, wordlessly. “But… I would like to leave that to you, if you’re alright with it.”

Her phone lights up again, another message from Hoseok.

Hoseok [13:45] Fucking hell. There’s a road blocked on the way to the airport so I’ll have to leave earlier than planned. Filming might get pushed up but I’ll still try to make it. Letting you know just in case.

The disappointment in her stomach feels faint, like she’s imagining it - or hoping for it. Chaeyoung forces herself to respond in a steady voice.

“Um, I think you can leave your things to whoever you want. I don’t think you need to ask.”

Soyeon nods, and her eyes fall slightly. “I know,” she says softly. “But I want to ask. We aren’t very close and… I don’t want to presume anything.”

Chaeyoung bites her lip. Her chest feels uncomfortable, and she tries to work out which road on the way to the airport might be blocked. Why it would, today of all days, how much earlier Hoseok would have to leave to catch his flight, and what the odds might be of him actually meeting her at Sephora later today.

“Chaeyoung?”

“I -” Chaeyoung clears her throat. “Of course, you can. Thank you.”

Soyeon raises her eyebrows for a moment, as though surprised at this quick response. “Oh. Okay. Wonderful. That’s - that’s really… thank you.” She smiles and reaches for her drink, taking a quick sip. “I should ask for some more ice. What about you? More ice?”

“Sure. And… I know we aren’t very close.” Chaeyoung looks down at her plate before forcing herself to meet her stepmother’s eyes. Her stepmother, who made sure that not a single birthday went by without wishes and a gift. “But that’s on me,” she mutters. “You did your best.”

The waiter stops by and it seems to take Soyeon a moment to remember why she had called him. As she requests him for more ice and to clear their plates, Chaeyoung glances at her phone out of the corner of her eye and feels the knot in her chest loosen. Maybe the road will get unblocked by the evening. Maybe filming will end early, or maybe there won’t be traffic between Big Hit and Sephora.

“You know, you can leave jewellery to Chanyeol, too,” she half-jokes when they get their dessert menus. “He’s not bad at accessorising.”

Soyeon chuckles. “You might be right. I am planning to give him something, though.” She hesitates. “In a year or two, if everything looks like it’s going well… I was thinking of giving him my engagement ring. I’m hoping he’ll propose to Hayoung with it, if he wants.”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s… wow, an engagement ring. Oppa’s growing old,” she remarks in wonder, making Soyeon laugh. “He and Hayoung make a good couple, though. I could see her as my sister-in-law.”

“Yes, but I want to ask him when the time is right.” She leans forward slightly. “Can it stay between you and me till then?”

Chaeyoung nods, somewhat endeared by the prospect. They order a tiramisu to share and return the menus, when another message pops up on her phone.

Hoseok [13:55] Interview just got done. Do you think you can meet me at Sephora in about an hour?

Chaeyoung grabs her phone and immediately types out a reply. “Sorry,” she mutters to Soyeon, hastily sending a Yeah, I’ll be there to him.

“No problem. Everything okay?”

“What?” She sets her phone down. “Yes, everything is… okay. It’s good.” But she can feel the smile starting to spread across her face, suddenly glad she had the foresight to bring the gift card with her to lunch.

“Yeah? Someone interesting been texting you all afternoon?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” she answers automatically. “I mean, not interesting, just… it’s Hoseok,” she admits lamely.

“Our Hoseok?” Soyeon looks both surprised yet somewhat knowing. “Chanyeol mentioned you two were friendly now, but are you…”

“Friends?” Chaeyoung guesses. “Yeah, I guess. We both live here and I guess we started hanging out last year…” She shrugs, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. “It’s not a big deal. But, yeah… we’re friends.”

“That’s nice,” she says. But there’s that knowing look in her eye again, and Chaeyoung isn’t sure if it’s a guess or if she’s being that obvious. “You two kind of… clashed growing up.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, grudgingly appreciating Soyeon’s attempt at being diplomatic. “That would be an understatement. But, yeah, I guess once I stopped being a creepy stalker and he got his head out of his ass… we actually get along pretty well.”

Soyeon waves her hand as the tiramisu arrives and they each grab a small silver spoon. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she says as they attack the dessert together. “You were a kid - and everybody that age wants validation from someone they look up to. You had a crush,” she tells her. “We’ve all been there.”

Chaeyoung knows it’s meant to be comforting, but it struggles to get through. What if I’m still there?

“Can I tell you a secret?” she blurts out. It suddenly occurs to her that there are two people at this table who lost their mothers when they were children. “You can’t tell anyone - especially not my brother.”

“Of course,” says Soyeon instantly. “Is everything okay?”

At this pivotal moment, Chaeyoung’s voice seems to give up on her. It’s happened before, the couple of times she’d been about to confide in Sooah before chickening out, for there was no guarantee anymore that she wouldn’t tell Jimin. Sunmi would be no help in general, her work friends weren’t close enough and had zero context, and Chanyeol was simply out of the question.

She clears her throat. “Hoseok and I… kissed,” she confesses before she can lose her nerve. She sees Soyeon’s face start to relax and hurriedly continues. “It was the night of my birthday. He came over, brought me a Sephora gift card and cupcakes… and we hung out. He offered to go skincare shopping with me and told me about his tour. And then right before he left… he kissed me. Or we - we kissed,” she finishes awkwardly, wishing she was less incoherent about this.

“Oh. So, are you two dating?”

“No,” she answers immediately, realising now that she was also possibly dreading an over-the-top reaction by Sooah, one that would make her want to crawl under her bed covers and never reappear. “No, we’re still friends. We haven’t really talked about it. He’s been abroad ever since. It’s… kind of confusing, that’s all.” When Soyeon doesn’t respond, Chaeyoung worries she may have overshared. “What?”

“Nothing…” Soyeon bites her lip. “I’m trying to decide between the advice I should give and the advice I actually want to.”

“The second one.”

“Okay, then.” She sets her spoon down, their half-eaten tiramisu abandoned between them. “I watched Hoseok grow up and while I love him like family… I would tell you to protect yourself.”

Chaeyoung pauses, not expecting this. “What’s the advice you should be giving?”

“You know…” Soyeon shrugs. “Follow your heart, tell him how you feel, don’t be ashamed of your feelings.” She purses her lips. “I’m not saying you should be ashamed of your feelings or that you shouldn’t follow your heart, but… maybe you want to see where this goes before confessing anything? He’s doing so well for himself and we’re all very proud, but I can’t imagine that that life would be a walk in the park to put up with. Just… don’t be in a hurry, especially if you’re not sure how he feels.” She pauses. “Or how you feel.”

There are too many grudging truths in this piece of advice. For the first time all day, she doesn’t immediately glance at her phone when it lights up with a message.

“Did I spoil your mood?” Soyeon asks as they’re heading out. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to -”

“No, I know.” Chaeyoung interrupts her. It’s raining now; the sunniness of the day has disappeared as though it never existed and they stand under the roof right outside the door of the restaurant. “You didn’t spoil anything. Maybe… maybe we’re just meant to be friends and nothing more.”

“Maybe. I’m not pretending like I know everything about your relationship with him. I know that he’s a good kid with a good heart, and so are you. And teenage reactions don’t mean much when you’re grown up.” Soyeon tilts her head and places a hand on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. “I’m not at all surprised that you two get along. And he would be incredibly lucky to be with you. But maybe I’m biased.”

They exchange a small smile. It feels a bit more real now: the kiss, the feelings, the fact that Jung Hoseok isn’t just a teenage fantasy anymore.

“Thanks. That’s good advice. I could’ve used more of it over the years,” she adds.

Soyeon averts her gaze for a moment before looking up again and smiling. “We have time,” she says. “I’m just a phone call away.”

Chaeyoung nods. One of the stranger afternoons of my life. “And thank you for the Tim Tams.”

Soyeon laughs. “Don’t worry. I bought a second box just for myself.” Chaeyoung grins as Soyeon’s phone pings and a cab pulls up in front of the restaurant. “How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m going to Sephora - er, the mall. I’ll take the bus,” she says, pointing at the bus stop across the street. “It’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Soyeon raises her eyebrows. “Alright. Text me when you reach. And… say hi to Hoseok for me.” Her eyes twinkle and without thinking, Chaeyoung steps forward and hugs her stepmother. Soyeon seems to freeze for a fraction of a second before hugging her back. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she murmurs, stroking her hair. “And have fun at Sephora.” Stepping away and tucking a strand of hair behind Chaeyoung’s ear, Soyeon hurries out into the rain and into the waiting cab.

Chaeyoung waves to her as she leaves, too many mixed feelings churning through her. But it’s lighter somehow and as she crosses the street in the rain, cringing slightly as her hair gets wet, she suddenly feels older and more capable.

There’s too much to unpack from this afternoon so she decides to keep it aside until she gets home. As she nears the mall, the city caught in an unseasonal shower, the only part of her lunch with Soyeon that seems impossible compartmentalise is the bit about Hoseok.

He would be incredibly lucky to be with you. Part of her knows she’s jumping the gun; apart from the one kiss they shared and the innocent flirting at best, there has been nothing to indicate that they’re anything more than just good friends.

But there’s the other part, the part where he’s been texting her whenever he can, joking around with her, moving his schedule around just to shop with her. She isn’t imagining it, but the more she has to convince herself of it, the less special is feels.

It’s still raining when she reaches the mall. Splashing through the small puddles in the pavilion, she hurries into the mall, the AC making her shiver.

“Shit,” she mutters, tugging her thin cotton shrug around her. She catches her reflection in a mirror by the door of a clothing store and groans inwardly; her long hair, painstakingly shampooed, conditioned and straightened this morning, is damp and wavy down her shoulders, strands sticking to her forehead. Her eyeliner seems to have smudged as well, making her look like a drowning raccoon.

Hoseok [14:30] Just reached. Where are you?

Chaeyoung sighs and glances back up at her reflection. Taking a selfie of herself scowling, she superimposes it on a dramatic graphic of a stormy sky and sends it to him.

Chaeyoung [14:32] [photo] Got caught in the rain. I look like a crack addict.

Hoseok [14:33] OMG You still look cute, haha. Very punk. Like, bubblegum punk.

Chaeyoung feels a smile spread across her face at the response. Looking back up at her reflection, she shakes out her damp hair so it falls tousled down her shoulder. A lot more confident than she was a few moments ago, she makes her way to the escalator.

Sephora is on the second floor of the mall, with all the other cosmetics and skincare stores. It’s the biggest one, though, looking shiny and expensive.

As she approaches the store, she spots Hoseok inside. He’s wearing a hoodie, a baseball cap and a mask, but Chaeyoung recognises him instantly. He’s standing a bit to the inside of the store, in a corner by the eye creams, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

At the exact same time that Chaeyoung’s heart flutters at the sight of him, a different part of her conversation with Soyeon resurfaces out of nowhere. She takes a step back so she’s behind a pillar; she’s sure he can’t spot her now. Opening the camera of her phone, she holds it up to her face to look at her reflection again.

It can’t be. A simple text from Hoseok can’t change her opinion in an instant, not this much. Is it true, though? Is she, after all these years, still looking for validation from him?

It’s a more humiliating thought than any memory of her childhood crush. Liking Hoseok all over again is something she can handle; wanting his validation, his approval - it’s a path she can’t go down again.

Chaeyoung lowers her phone to sneak a look at Hoseok again. He’s taken off his mask now. A few people seem to have recognised him, but his attention is on his phone, face pensive.

She realises she hasn’t replied to his last message. Her thumbs hover over the screen; it’s not her finest moment, but she knows she can’t do this until she’s had some time to reflect, alone.

Chaeyoung [14:38] I might need to take a raincheck, literally. It’s pouring and I can’t get a single cab. I’m sorry.

With a heavy heart and hoping she doesn’t regret this, she sends the text. Peering from behind the pillar, she watches as Hoseok gets the message. He stares at his phone for a few seconds, his shoulders falling, before visibly sighing and taking off his cap. He runs a hand through his dark hair and puts the cap back on.

Hoseok [14:39] Oh. That’s cool. Let me know when you get back home safe, okay?

Chaeyoung almost gives it up right then but when she sees Hoseok exiting the store, she immediately flattens herself behind the pillar. Taking great care to not be seen, she watches Hoseok go down the escalator and disappear into the crowd.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: jhs #type: series

56 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

aisfhasufhiuasfh namjoon is sooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!! finding little crab friends in the sand, dropping the sunscreen, head-counting his little ducks to make sure he has them all.... i'm dying

"for the kids" IOEAJFOIASFJUAH SHUT UP MOM AND DAD GODDDDDDDDD

oh noooo, kaya :(

UGHHHHHHHH I'M SO EMOTIONAL OVER THEM GOD MAKE IT BETTER

"i have a rebounding problem" haha WAIT. did she ACTUALLY sleep with adam because i called bullshit on that. i will be. so mad lol

the "namjoon is going to kill you" got me kjashfiuasghfiuagufgy

god bless yoongi for removing an absolutely oblivious jungkook from the room lmao i know exactly who also had a calvin campaign and i'm not talking about jk or mingyu!!!

LMAOOOO NAMJOOON GET IT TOGETHER DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Day in the Life

Summary: Namjoon and Kaya deal with the aftermath of their break-up. Dilara makes an uneasy realisation about her own relationship.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC, Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 9.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, sex, oral sex, jealousy

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a couple of months after Moving On.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "meet me in amsterdam" by RINI

taehyung masterlist | namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

It is sunny and hot; Yoongi can almost hear his skin sizzle.

“Put this on before you get sunburnt,” he says to Jimin, tossing him a bottle of sunscreen as he arrives at the spot where the rest of the group is. Jimin catches it and examines the label while providing an opinion of the brand that Yoongi elects to ignore. Jungkook responds instead and they proceed to bicker half-heartedly, while Taehyung lies on a deck chair next to them, jumping in only to contribute singular comments that add fuel to the fire.

Yoongi takes a seat next to them and takes off his t-shirt, glad for the shade under the umbrella. Ibiza is as warm as they say - but it’s also as busy as they say. He turns to check on Namjoon, who had been a few steps behind him, now crouched by the end of the steps that lead from their hotel to the private beach and peering interestedly at something in the sand.

He squints but before he can get a clearer picture of what it is, he feels a tap on his shoulder to see Jungkook returning the sunscreen to him. Yoongi squeezes a bit more onto his palm and turns to Seokjin on his other side.

“Hyung? Sunscreen?”

Seokjin, lying on his own chair with a pair of Raybans on his face and a streak of white sunscreen along the bridge of his nose, sighs without turning. “What’s the point, Yoongi?” he asks wryly. “We’re all just going to die one day anyway.”

Yoongi stares at him. “What?”

“Sunscreen isn’t the answer. It’s opportunity. Serendipity. It’s…” He takes a deep breath and exhales, still not turning, “... destiny.”

For a moment, Yoongi wonders if he’s being pranked, but then Jimin and Jungkook snort at Seokjin’s response and he decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Oi, Namjoon,” he says to the leader, who joins them then. “Sunscreen,” he states, tossing the bottle to Namjoon, who fumbles it and drops it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, sheepishly picking it up and shaking it before squeezing a dollop onto his palm. “Where’s… four, five, six - where’s Dilara?”

“Went to buy some drinks,” supplies Taehyung, golden-brown in a pair of red swimming trunks, sitting up gracefully and shaking out his shaggy black hair. “She should be back by now, though.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Spoken to Hobi yet?”

Namjoon nods, taking a seat under the second umbrella and rubbing the lotion along his arms. “He landed a little while ago. I asked him to meet Bang PD if he could, since he’s in Seoul anyway. Some investors at the building this week,” he adds, answering Yoongi’s raise of the eyebrows.

“He’s missing out on a beach weekend, though,” says Jimin earnestly. He turns to face the expanse of the brilliant blue ocean and the vast white sand of their private beach. “He would love this,” he adds forlornly.

“He’ll be here later this week. We can make the trip back up here if we have the time,” offers Namjoon, before taking off his tank top.

“Ooooh!”

The three other boys jeer at his naked torso and Yoongi joins in as well, glad to see Namjoon’s abashed smile, the dimple popping faintly on his left cheek. Next to him, even Seokjin cracks a smile.

“Shut up,” he replies dismissively, looking a bit ruffled but the dimple stays on his cheek. “Why aren’t you guys in the water?”

“Waiting for Dilara,” mutters Taehyung, reaching for his phone.

“There she is!” Jungkook exclaims, and they turn to see where he’s pointing at. Across the private beach, near the edge of where the general public is lounging on the sand, Yoongi spots Dilara, in a red bikini top and light blue denim shorts, carrying a plastic bag and wading through the sand.

Jungkook waves to her but she doesn’t notice; as they watch, she gets stopped by a tall, tan man in swimming trunks. A brief exchange of words occurs, full of smiles and animated gestures from him and a few seconds later, three more men join him and they stand together, keeping her in the middle.

“A very different looking fanbase than ours, I have to say,” observes Namjoon, as the first one hands his phone to a stranger and they all pose for a picture.

“You don’t think they’ll follow her here and see us, do you?” Jungkook asks, sounding slightly anxious.

Yoongi chuckles, agreeing with Namjoon. “I think we’re okay. They don’t look like anyone who’s going to recognise us,” he adds, glancing at Taehyung. He can only see a sliver of the younger member’s face as he watches his girlfriend, his body very still.

Dilara’s hands are occupied with the bag and a peace sign she makes while the guys stand around her, arms around each other and grinning into the camera. Yoongi can’t be sure because she’s wearing sunglasses, but it seems as though she’s looking over in their direction. A couple of snaps later, Dilara waves to the fans and continues in her initial direction.

“Okay, I have cokes and lemonades,” she begins when she reaches them, tossing a yellow can so it lands neatly next to Seokjin on the towel, “beers,” she adds, handing one to Namjoon and Yoongi each, “and diet coke,” she finishes, handing one each to Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, the latter of whom pauses for a fraction of a second before he takes it.

“Coke?” Jimin wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly behind his Dior sunglasses. “Toss me a beer, woman,” he says, switching to English.

Without missing a beat, Dilara chucks a cold can at his lap which he catches right as it lands on his crotch; she gives him a wide smile when he winces and mutters a tight “Thanks”. She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and clicks open her own can of beer.

“Cheers, everyone,” she says, and all of them respond with garbled Cheers, clinking cans here and there. She takes a sip of her beer and nudges Taehyung’s knee. “Hey,” she says lightly.

A moment passes before he replies. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting slightly so she can sit next to him and accepting a peck on the cheek.

“Your fans follow you here?” Jimin asks teasingly.

“Doubt it,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just mid-season excitement. We’re in the western Europe - it’s the heartland of F1. Oh, and by the way - huge number of crabs all along the border,” she warns them, shuddering. “Popping out of the sand with zero warning.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Is that what you were doing back there?” he asks, pointing towards the steps to the hotel.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly. “They were really cute,” he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

“You’re possibly the only person on earth who thinks that, Namjoon,” says Seokjin from behind them.

Namjoon considers this, then shrugs. “They’re an acquired taste. Kaya hated them, too. Always found them creepy.”

There’s a pause where a few of them exchange looks, all of them surely thinking the same thing. Yoongi can’t remember the last time Namjoon brought up Kaya in casual conversation, but he can only presume it’s progress.

Fortunately, Dilara speaks before it gets fishy. “I agree. I think it’s the way they scuttle?”

The conversation continues under the shade of the umbrellas, the drinks feeling nice and cold. Yoongi is glad for the weekend break; it’s rare during tour and despite the fact that the coming week is going to be packed with events and appearances until the weekend concert (and race), it’s nice to have a couple of days of rest.

“Namjoon hyung, do you think the company will let me fly Sooah out to Japan for the encore concert?” Jimin asks after a while.

“I think so. We can ask the travel team,” he assures him. “You may have to fill out a form and everything, but it should be okay. Do you need tickets, too, or will she join us backstage?”

“She prefers watching it from the audience,” replies Jimin, pouting slightly. “Says it’s a better experience.”

“Oh, I agree,” pipes up Dilara, with Taehyung’s arm loose around her shoulders. “Can I get a ticket, too, for the next one?”

“Wait, you don’t like being backstage?” Jungkook asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“Of course I like it, but it’s not the same,” she argues, while a hint of a smile flickers on Taehyung’s face. “The energy outside is something else. Especially during your love you so bad moments,” she adds, winking and Jungkook. “Hearing the screams backstage isn’t quite the same, JK.”

Jungkook’s ears go a brilliant shade of red while Jimin guffaws. Taehyung nudges her. “Come into the water with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” She nods and they both stand up, Taehyung taking off his sunglasses and setting his drink on the plastic table between the chairs. Dilara nonchalantly drops her shorts, revealing plain red bikini bottoms; Yoongi looks away out of respect and notices Namjoon do the same, while Jungkook begins fidgeting with something on the edge of his chair. Taehyung and Dilara step out into the sun and begin walking towards the ocean, holding hands, while her long hair curls down her back.

“They look happy.”

Yoongi turns to see Seokjin sitting up finally and reaching for his drink. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

He shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi glances at the happy couple again, now jogging towards the water, Taehyung’s hands on her waist and faint laughter carrying over to them as they splash into the shallow waves.

“The water looks amazing,” remarks Jungkook, his eyes on the waves. “Jimin, come on.”

“My beer isn’t -”

But Jungkook steers him to stand up and Jimin tries to down as much of his beer as he can. “Jesus, slow down,” says Namjoon, frowning.

“You should join, too, hyung,” says Jimin, sputtering slightly. “Show off that body,” he teases, poking his shoulder before he and Jungkook race towards the water where Taehyung and Dilara are already drenched, splashing water at each other and laughing.

“I need to work after this.” Namjoon muses, almost to himself. “Can’t spend too long here.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, now back on his back. “Give yourself a break, Namjoon. The company isn’t going to come crashing down if you take an hour off.”

“But -”

“Everything isn’t your responsibility,” he interrupts. Namjoon sighs but says nothing, turning to Yoongi instead.

“Coming?”

“In a bit.” Yoongi gives him a wave as he stands up and begins walking towards the water. His shoulders look wider in the sun, despite the weight he’s clearly lost lately. The others are midway through a game of chicken, with Dilara and Jimin on Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders respectively. Yoongi smiles involuntarily as he watches them; it’s nice to see them letting loose, especially Namjoon.

He leans back and reaches for his phone, snapping a picture of all five of them in the water, candid and happy. He turns to Seokjin.

“You’re not going, hyung?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I’ll go if you go.”

Yoongi considers this, then grins. “I’ll wait you out, old man. You know you can’t resist the water,” he quips, laughing when Seokjin chuckles.

“Someone’s got to watch our stuff,” he reasons, gesturing to their phones and discarded clothes.

“Good thing we’ve got security.” Yoongi cocks his head towards the two casually dressed bodyguards lounging a little ways away, sipping on a pearly white drink each. “Come on, take a break, hyung. You deserve it.”

Seokjin is silent for a bit, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Looks like a lot of splashing,” he mutters, before sighing.

Yoongi gives him a sympathetic look. He’s not sure, but there’s only one thing lately that’s capable of ruining his mood this much. “For the kids,” he urges gently, glancing at the ocean again.

“Fine.” Seokjin exhales in annoyance and places his can on the table before standing up.

“That’s it,” says Yoongi encouragingly, standing up as well. The sun is hot and the water looks magnificent. “For the kids,” he repeats.

Seokjin huffs as they step out from under the umbrellas and pad their way down the sand. “Sometimes I hate the kids,” he mutters, squinting in the sun.

“I know. Me, too.”

—

Dilara makes her way up the steps to the poolside, the ends of her hair dripping water down her side. The villa booked for them is away from the main hotel, as private as possible, for which she’s more than glad. There’s the private beach and the private pool and she and Taehyung were always guaranteed a private room.

She glances at her phone, still not seeing the email she’s been waiting for since yesterday. Clicking her tongue softly, she walks around the side of the house to see Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook sitting on two deck chairs, huddled around something. Drenched hair and drops of water still on their shoulders; they’ve just finished a swim. Resisting the urge to bite down on Taehyung’s shoulder to surprise him, she veers instead for the member closest to her with his back to her.

“What’s up, guys?” she says loudly, suddenly placing her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and leaning over him to see them peering into someone’s phone.

Taehyung and Jimin start, but Jungkook jumps. “Mweoya!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he stutters, his face flushing.

Dilara immediately raises her hands. “Whoa. Sorry.” She frowns as he nods jerkily. “So… what are you guys doing?” she asks again, this time in a normal volume, sitting next to Jimin.

All three of them exchange looks before Taehyung shrugs. “Come on, we can tell her.”

She raises her eyebrows as Jungkook, who’s holding the phone, brings it closer to her. “I found this on Twitter,” he confesses in a low voice and plays a video. It’s barely ten seconds long; it takes Dilara about half the video to realise who the subject is.

“Is - is that Kaya?” she exclaims, wincing when they all shush her in unison. “Sorry - but… what is that? Is that her at uni? Getting mobbed?”

“It’s not that many people,” points out Jimin, but even he sounds doubtful. “And they’re not, like… crowding her. They’re just…”

“Following her,” finishes Dilara. “So her identity is kind of confirmed, then,” she murmurs, already feeling bad for Kaya. She can see Jimin’s point: it’s not that bad. It’s about five or six people turning as she passes by them, dressed casually with a coffee in her hand, and calling out her name in different tones of surprise and excitement. Kaya turns and faces the camera only for a moment, but it’s unmistakably her.

“Good thing Namjoon hyung doesn’t go on Twitter,” says Taehyung, nibbling on a fingernail.

Dilara’s head snaps up. “Wait… you’re not going to keep this from him.” When none of them answer, she tilts her head, shoulders falling. “Guys. You can’t be serious.”

“But he’s been in such a good mood these days,” reasons Jungkook, eyes wide. “Okay, not good, but better. I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I get that, but this is important. And he’ll find out anyway,” she points out. “Come on, you can’t not tell Namjoon.”

“Tell me what?”

In the most fortuitous of moments, all four of them turn to see Namjoon approaching them, in fresh clothes and wet silvery hair. He looks only mildly suspicious at seeing them huddled together, almost as if expecting to catch them in some act of mischief.

“Um…”

The three boys look at each other, and then at Dilara. She gives them a look, knowing that regardless of Namjoon’s mood, he has a right to know. He should know.

Jungkook sighs and hands the phone to Namjoon. “We found this today.”

Dilara almost regrets her decision when she sees Namjoon’s face fall a bit more with each passing second. Next to her, Jimin scowls. “Knew we shouldn’t have told her,” he mutters softly, wincing when she slaps his shoulder lightly.

“This…” Namjoon clears his throat. “This was today?”

“Probably,” answers Jungkook slowly.

“So not too long ago,” finishes Taehyung, biting his lip. “Sorry, hyung.”

Namjoon seems to snap out of it and hands the phone back to Jungkook. “Thanks. For letting me know.” Without waiting for a response, he heads back into the house.

“Think he’ll talk to her?” Taehyung asks after a while, once they’ve finished another swim and are going into the kitchen.

“I think he already is,” replies Dilara, cocking her head towards the garden where Namjoon is sitting at a small wicker table, phone on the table and ear pods in his ear as he runs his hands over his face.

Namjoon exhales as the phone rings, his heart beating rapidly in a mixture of fear and anticipation. The video was short - too short. It told him nothing - nothing about who the people were, why it was suddenly a frenzy, whether she was officially recognised now, and how she is taking it. Does she hate him? Is she even angrier with him than she had been two months ago? Or is she finally coming around to understand why he did what he did?

Except… why isn’t it working? It’s the part that’s nagging at him uncomfortably, small but sharp in his brain: why is it still happening? Why hasn’t the world left her alone, even after he has?

“Hello?”

His heart jolts; she sounds wary. “Hey,” he says softly. God, he’s missed her voice. Recorded videos on his phone don’t do it justice.

There’s a pause. “Hey.”

He needs to speak, but it’s too hard. Defeat, anger and longing - it’s an unholy mess.

“I’m, uh… I saw the video.”

“What video?”

Namoon frowns. “The… video on Twitter. Outside your college? You, a bunch of strangers calling out your name? Mobbing you on your way to class?” he adds, running a hand through his hair and remembering the feeling of beng crowded at airports.

“Oh. That. Wait, there’s a video?” She sounds more exasperated than anything.

“Yeah. Didn’t show a whole lot, though.”

Kaya sighs; she’s probably in her cabin in the college, or she’s hopefully returned to her apartment. A moment later, the thought of that comforts him less.

“Well. Nothing really happened. I wasn’t mobbed,” she clarifies, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of his mouth without warning because this, more than anything, is what he needs to know.

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “Nothing happened,” she repeats. “I told them I had to get to class and they left me alone. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s nothing like that.”

The picture in his mind of her frightened face, of her getting pulled, harassed and crowded in her personal space comes to an immediate pause.

“I’m glad.” He bites his lip, feeling his throat hurt as a lump forms slowly. He doesn’t want the conversation to end and since she hasn’t hung up yet, he can only presume she doesn’t either. “How are you?”

“Namjoon,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

“I’m just asking you how you are,” he says quickly. “Is that so bad?”

She takes a deep breath and it sounds like she’s about to argue, but then she simply sighs again. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m…” He can’t lie. He’s been doing it constantly, putting on a smile, performing his heart out, joking on television. But he can’t lie to her. I’m a fucking mess, and I love you.

Kaya waits, and it’s clear she’s picked up on the pause. “You looked thin the last time I saw you.”

He remembers the last time. “It’s tour,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a shuffling sound at her end, like she’s standing up. “I have to go. I have a meeting and I have to drop off a draft to Adam’s office before that.”

She says it absently, and it seems to take her a few moments to register the dead silence on the line. Namjoon says nothing; there’s the white hot anger in his stomach he’s tried to ignore that’s returning, and the last thing he wants is to say something he might regret.

“Namjoon -”

“Okay,” he says tightly. “Bye, Kaya.” He hangs up before either of them can say anything else.

—

“So… he hung up?”

“Why is that so shocking?”

Dilara rolls onto her stomach and frowns, flipping her hair to the side so her phone is against her ear. “I don’t know. He’s the one who called you. Because he was worried?”

“Isn’t he always?” Kaya says wryly. “But this time, he actually had nothing to be worried about.”

. “Are you sure? I’m not going to overreact; you can tell me the truth.”

“I am, though. I saw the video - it looks worse than it was,” she explains. “I don’t think he believes me, though. I don’t think he wants to, because then all of this will have been for nothing.”

Dilara hums sympathetically, somewhat glad that despite her break-up with Namjoon, Kaya hasn’t stopped speaking with her out of association. She turns to glance at the bathroom, the sliding door of which is wide open, with only a blurry glass door blocking her view of her boyfriend showering inside. She bites her lip, shamelessly admiring his slender naked figure as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

“... in any case. I thought he’d be moving on by now.”

She winces, realising she’s missed part of Kaya’s sentence. “Um… well, he’s definitely not moving on. Honestly, he just seems really sad.”

“I know he is,” says Kaya, to Dilara’s surprise. “He was trying to act so calm and collected when he came to my apartment with his stupid goodbye, but…” She sighs, a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I saw that concert clip you sent me.”

“The Rome one?”

Kaya confirms it. The clip in question had been Dilara’s attempt at making Kaya feel better, except now she has no idea if it’s had the opposite impact. It was a short one, of Namjoon on stage during a concert, breaking down unexpectedly. He’d done it in the most Namjoon way possible, with silent tears slipping out of his eyes, a stoic posture and forced smile, until one by one, all the boys had hugged him, starting with Jungkook.

The comments, of course, attributed it to anything and everything, from missing his parents to appreciating his Italian fans to his impending military service. But Dilara, who had actually been backstage at that concert, knew which pictures he’d been scrolling through earlier that day, of which Roman holiday and with whom.

She hasn’t mentioned any of this to Kaya, but something tells her she may have guessed anyway.

“Yeah, well. I think part of him is mad at me, too.”

“What does he have to be mad about?”

“I don’t do well with break–ups,” she mutters. “I say things and I get defensive. Sometimes I have a rebound problem.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I just don’t know what to say anymore, when he calls me like this. I mean, I know he’s sad,” she says emphatically. “I can hear it in his voice, but -” She scoffs and she sounds sad, too, and helpless. “What do I do about it? He’s doing it to himself, you know?”

“Yeah…” Dilara hears the water stop in the bathroom. “If it helps, I think he’s channelling a lot of it into music and stuff. Like a true artist,” she adds wryly. “He performed an unreleased song at last night’s concert and the audience went nuts. I mean, it was a really good song,” she admits.

“Yeah? What’s it called?” she asks, sounding only mildly interested.

“He didn’t say. I don’t think it has a title, but the internet is calling it Aphrodite based on the lyrics. You know someone is in deep when they’ve gone down the Greek mythology route,” she remarks.

Kaya sighs but doesn’t respond, changing the subject instead. “Can we talk about something else? How was Montreal?”

“Shit race,” answers Dilara, rolling her eyes. “I know wet races are a hoot to watch or whatever, but the track in Montreal becomes like fucking ice. I have to make up for my P7 in Barcelona and Silverstone next month, that’s all,” she mutters, turning back on her back and adjusting her red bikini top, feeling her mood sour.

Kaya seems to realise this, for she quickly responds. “It looked like you had fun at Ricciardo’s birthday party this week, though. The pictures are all over Instagram.”

Dilara chuckles. “Yeah, it was fun. Honestly, it’s a good thing he always celebrates it in Ibiza so I was already in Spain this weekend. And Lexie and Chris and Fred were invited, too, so all in all it was quite fun.”

“Oh, are those the people in this picture? The one you posted yesterday?” Kaya asks, and it’s clear she’s pulled up the picture on her phone.

“Yeah. You should meet them when you’re in London in July.”

“Sure. Which one is Chris?”

“Chris Park? The one that’s not the blond German,” she quips.

“Ha ha,” replies Kaya sarcastically, before pausing. “He’s cute.” She scoffs when Dilara makes an exaggerated gagging sound. “Oh, come on, you have to be blind to not admit he’s hot.”

“Objectively speaking, I accept that he’s good looking in an obvious way,” she admits.

“Yeah, obvious hotness is the worst.”

Dilara laughs. “Fair enough. He’s not really my type, though. My type is more… classic,” she says, smirking as Taehyung exits the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist. “High cheekbones, artsy,” she lists, maintaining eye contact with him and nodding when he silently points at himself questioningly.

“Types can be fluid,” argues Kaya, but Dilara barely hears her. Stopping at her feet, Taehyung places a knee on the bed and crawls up towards her.

Biting her lip in excitement, she starts to interrupt Kaya but Taehyung, face smooth and more handsome than ever, gives her a small shake of the head, indicating to her to continue her call.

“Oh - uh… what do you mean?” Dilara asks into the phone, peering at him as he presses a soft kiss to her bare sternum and moves lower before tugging at the strings of her red bikini bottom so the knots open with ease. Nudging her legs apart, he pushes her knees up and kisses the skin just above her slit.

“Fuck,” she mutters, realising a moment later that she’s still on the phone. “I mean… fuck, yeah. You’re right. Of course.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That weird interruption. Is there a low signal where you are?”

“No. Or probably.” Dilara swallows, only half-aware of what she’s saying, the rest of her mind preoccupied with Taehyung’s head between her legs, his tongue finding its way along her wetness, down to her clit. “I’m just - oh - just… agreeing with you.” Her toes curl on the sheets as shivers start forming from her feet up her legs.

“Yeah? About what?”

“About the - about… what we were talking about. About Chris, and the - oh, God!” She squeezes her eyes shut as Taehyung sucks suddenly at her clit, without warning.

Kaya gasps. “Oh, my God. Is - is Taehyung with you?”

Dilara is starting to unravel. “I - in a sense,” she admits, snaking her other hand down to run it through his thick hair and lifting her hips up slightly.

“Oh, God!” she exclaims, sounding horrified. “You know what? Call me when you’re… done,” she says quickly, before hanging up.

Dilara nods absently, eyes fluttering shut and letting the phone fall from her hand as Taehyung devours her, one hand firm around her thigh and the other coming up to slide into her folds, brushing over her clit while his tongue stays inside her. She’s in danger of being overstimulated but it’s so sweet, so electric that the sharp sensation only flows through the rest of her body.

“Yes, yes, right there…”

The orgasm is right there, within reach. A few more seconds of relentless tongue action while she cries out for him not to stop and it crashes over her like a wave of the ocean, her back arched and head thrown back on the pillow as he licks her through it, not letting her go even for a moment until she stutters his name.

“Come - come here,” she murmurs, head spinning and stars in her eyes as he emerges, hair dry but the bottom of his face slick with her juices. Wiping his mouth conspicuously on the back of his hand, he towers over her, eyes dark as he watches her catch her breath.

She raises her arms and he lowers himself to kiss her. The aftershocks of her orgasm are still fading away; she lets him pull her close, loving the feel of his naked body against hers, knowing for certain now that he’d seen her earlier today when she’d clicked a picture with that group of fans. Those many men, that much exposed skin and the close proximity in which they’d all surrounded her - it was just enough for a reaction.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling away but staying close. He props his head up on his palm and smiles down at her, a little satisfied.

“Hey,” she says, her breathing slowly returning back to normal. “I think you just rocked my world.”

Taehyung’s smile gets wider but he visibly tries to suppress it, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “My pleasure. Must be because I’m your type, no?”

It takes Dilara a moment to realise what he’s referring to. “Oh. That.” She chuckles. “Totally my type,” she agrees.

“And what’s that?”

“My type? I dunno. Sexy. Romantic. Smart but not arrogant. Just a little pretentious,” she adds, grinning when he rolls his eyes. “Able to take control when he’s a little jealous,” she adds in a murmur, running a finger down his chest and reaching up to brush her lips against his. “Knowing every inch of my body better than anyone,” she finishes, kissing him again.

He kisses her back, slow and affectionate, and rolls on top of her. “So Chris isn’t your type?”

“God, no.” Dilara wrinkles her nose and Taehyung rolls off her, resuming his position on his side. “Kaya saw his picture on my Instagram and said she thought he was hot. I told her she could see for herself when she comes to London next month.”

“Chris? Wait, you told Kaya about him?” Taehyung frowns.

“Yeah… why?”

“Because he may not be your type, but he seems pretty close to Kaya’s type,” he points out.

“What?” Dilara squints. “No way.”

“Really? Tall, buff, straight hair? Korean?” He raises his eyebrows. “That doesn’t remind you of anyone we know?”

Dilara rolls her eyes. “That’s a little reductive. She can’t just go out and find another Kim Namjoon on the street, you know?”

“He doesn’t have to be Namjoon, he just has to look like him.” Shaking his head, Taehyung pulls up the picture on his phone. “You really don’t see the resemblance?”

“No. Just - okay, maybe the body structure. And the hair,” she admits uneasily. “And the voice, kind of. Okay, but that’s crazy. She’s not going to just suddenly be attracted to someone that looks like her ex to get over her break-up.” But her voice trails off slightly at the end and she looks up at Taehyung hopefully. “Right?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Namjoon is going to kill you,” he states.

“If you let him, then we’ve got bigger problems than Kaya’s dating life,” she snaps. “Besides, you might be overthinking this, okay? They’ve never even met. All she did was see a picture and compliment him. As someone who’s on fifty thousand lockscreens at this moment, you should know that.”

Taehyung gives her an unimpressed look as her phone pings. She reaches over to see a message from Kaya.

Kaya [14:12]

Hey, whenever you’re free, can you send me your friend Chris’s number if he’s okay with it? Thanks.

Dilara stares at the screen as Taehyung reads the message out loud from over her head. “Fuck,” she mutters, dropping her head into her hands. “Namjoon is going to kill me.”

Taehyung, his lips pressed against her shoulder from where he’s peering into her phone, nods and pats her arm. “I won’t let him. I promise.”

She turns around to face him. “Really? Because I may just have driven his ex-girlfriend into the arms of - oh, my God, Lexie is going to kill me, too.” She groans and covers her face, ignoring Taehyung’s low chuckle as he pulls her to him.

“Don’t overthink,” he instructs her kindly. “Come on, go take a shower. Yoongi hyung wants us to go pick up stuff for dinner - he texted me a whole list but I got the car keys, too. I’ll take you out on a nice drive.” He slaps her backside affectionately.

Dilara sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the bed and heading for the bathroom, untying and dropping her red bikini top on the way. Once she’s out, sand washed away and hair smelling nice, she walks back into the bedroom to see Taehyung in the exact same position she left him in, comfortably naked on his back and scrolling through his phone.

“Babe, can you charge my phone?” she asks him as she rummages through her suitcase for clothes. “I’m waiting on an email.”

“The same one?” Taehyung purses his lips sympathetically when she nods, reaching over to plug her phone into the bedside charger. “Didn’t they say they’d get back by now?”

“They said yesterday,” she complains, “although I’m hoping it’s a timezone thing and it’ll come today.” Pulling on a tank top over cotton shorts, she turns towards the mirror, finger-combing her wet curls. “Ugh, forget it,” she mutters. “They’re just going to curl by themselves anyway.”

“You look beautiful,” he says from behind her. “Always do.” He returns her smile in the mirror. “Do you want to go out now? It might help get your mind off this.”

“Yeah, it might. It’s not a big deal either way,” she adds, shrugging. “I mean, would it be good if I got it? Sure. But it’s not like it’s - wait, I think that’s it,” she breaks off quickly, spotting the notification on her phone as it lights up. She hurries across the room to the bedside table and unplugs her phone, swiping up on the screen.

“Okay…” Dilara opens it and scans through the initial text, while Taehyung sits up and pulls on his boxers, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. “Yes!” she yells in excitement. “I got it!”

“You did?”

“Yes! Calvin Klein fall campaign, in the fucking flesh,” she exclaims, her heart hammering in excitement. “Congratulations on becoming a part of the Calvin Klein family, blah blah blah… oh, here it is - the fall/winter campaign which will be launched in the month of September, celebrating a milestone of the brand… joining global ambassadors including Justin Bieber, Hailey Bieber - holy shit - Kendall Jenner, Jungkook of BTS -“ They exchange a knowing look, “Bella Hadid…” She trails off as she scans the rest of the list, something in her heart coming to a standstill.

“Lara?”

Dilara locks her phone and tucks it into her back pocket. “Nothing. It’s great.” She turns away before she can start to dissect Taehyung’s expression, the understanding settling in of the one detail neither of them had mentioned out loud since her conversation with Calvin Klein had begun.

“I’m really happy for you,” he says from behind her, voice soft and - she doesn’t want to dwell on it - slightly guilty. At that moment, there’s a knock on the door and Dilara immediately opens it to see Jungkook of BTS.

“Hey,” he says, looking a bit surprised. “Sorry to, er… interrupt. Yoongi hyung wants to marinate the meat before dinner and Namjoon hyung asked if we could also pick up some wine…” He raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. “I don’t want to go alone so do one of you want to come along?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” answers Dilara, bustling around to find a pair of slippers and grabbing her bag.

“What about Jimin?” Taehyung asks, pulling on a tank top.

“Yoongi gave him a giant watermelon to cut,” snickers Jungkook. “I thought about helping him but it’s more fun this way.”

“Sounds like he needs your help more than I do,” says Dilara, glancing at Taehyung. “I can go pick up the dinner stuff. Where are the keys?”

“Um, in my shorts. But -“

Dilara picks up his tan shorts from the pile of clothes next to the bed and shakes them out to catch the set of car keys that fall out. “Text me Yoongi’s list?” she asks. “Let me know if any of you want anything else. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Without waiting for him to nod, she exits the bedroom, shutting the door and leaving with Jungkook.

—

An hour or so later, Dilara slips into the tiny study, a glass of white wine in her hand. Namjoon glances away from his laptop and gives her a small smile, waving her inside.

“I heard you’re in the mood for wine?” she says, placing the glass next to his laptop.

“Wow, thanks.” He takes a whiff of it and nods. “I don’t know if I should be drinking while I’m working, though,” he adds, looking uneasy.

“You’re on vacation. You can have a drink. Come on, just one,” she persuades him, sliding the glass slowly towards him.

Namjoon gives her a look. “You’re a terrible influence,” he informs her, picking up the glass. “Cheers,” he says, and clinks his glass with the can of beer she’s holding. He takes a sip of the wine and sighs. “Fuck, that’s good. Are the mojito mixes in the fridge?”

Dilara pauses. “We didn’t buy mojito mixers. Shit, I knew we were forgetting something. But I can go out and get some, no problem,” she says quickly, nodding.

“Oh, hey, no. Don’t be silly,” says Namjoon, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal. I can go out myself. Don’t worry about it.”

She nods slowly, hesitating. “Um… you okay?”

Her tone seems to indicate exactly what she’s talking about. Namjoon lowers his gaze before nodding. “Fine. I think. Just worried,” he murmurs after a moment.

Dilara stares inside her can, seeing nothing but dark. “If it makes you feel any better, I really think it wasn’t a big deal. The video made it seem a lot worse than it was.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. That’s what she said, too.”

She nods, not really knowing what else to say. She considers leaving but then Namjoon speaks again.

“Do you talk to her?”

“M-hm.”

Namjoon’s shoulders relax a bit. “How is she?”

Dilara shrugs. “About the same as you, I think.” When all he does is scoff softly and look away, she abandons her plan to leave him alone. “Can I just ask…” She waits until he looks back up at her, giving her permission, “... is it worth it? Leaving, for her sake?”

To her surprise, Namjoon doesn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “She’s been hurt before. And there’s a reason idols don’t talk about dating. Ever. It used to be out of obligation but now… it just makes more sense to keep that part of your life private. We don’t do it for fun; we do it because it’s just better that way. I can’t let her get hurt again,” he says quietly, lowering his head.

“But she didn’t get hurt,” points out Dilara. “They didn’t do anything to her.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then thinks the better of it. “It’s not a chance I want to take.”

As much as she thinks he’s trying to convince himself more than her regarding his break-up, a different part of his spiel occurs to Dilara. Absently, she reaches for the white-gold ring around her neck, the metal warm from the sun outside.

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she ventures carefully, “but I just hope you don’t regret it. Either of you.”

“You think I might?”

I think you are. But Dilara knows she would never say that out loud to Namjoon. “I think… that when Taehyung and I broke up, the most difficult part of it was going back to normal.”

He tilts his head. “How long did it take?”

“Not long at all. That was what was difficult about it. We lived in different countries, had completely different circles, so going back to normal… it took a surprisingly short amount of time,” she says, observing the point dawning on him. “Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t happy, but… honestly, if it weren’t for the Red Bull and BTS partnership and living with him and having him in my space every single day for two months, begging me to take him back… I don’t know if we’d be together right now.”

“No offence, but I think you and Taehyung are a little more dramatic than most,” he points out.

She shrugs sheepishly. “Fair enough. If you recall, I did date an arsehole mechanic just to get back at Tae.”

The silence that follows is still. Dilara suddenly remembers Kaya asking for Chris’s number and her heart jolts in anxiety, but then she puts that out of her mind; there is no way Namjoon can possibly know about that.

“You know what,” she says after a moment, more to break the silence than anything, “I’m going to go get those mojito mixes right now, so we can put them in the fridge.”

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” he starts to say, but she shakes her head and walks backwards out of the room.

“It’s no problem. Really. I like driving,” she adds, holding up the keys and smiling. “It’s my fault we forgot them, anyway. I was distracting Jungkook with a really bad impression of Batman. But it’s okay, I got it.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s really hot outside.”

“Good thing the car and the store are air conditioned.” She steps out the door and peeks in one last time. “No mistake is so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

—

Taehyung enters the open kitchen, hands in his pockets, to see Dilara, Jungkook and Yoongi putting away groceries. Yoongi is holding up a packet of meat and muttering something to Jungkook in Korean, while Dilara is pouring out glasses of something light pink.

She notices him first. “Hey,” she says, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, not paying attention to the other two. He’s about to stand beside her but thinks better of it, opting to stand opposite her instead with the counter between them. “You were gone for a while.”

“I had to run back and get mojito mixers. Forgot them the first time.” She finishes pouring a glass and slides it in front of him. “We got pink lemonade,” she says, sucking a bit off her thumb and turning around to place the carton back in the fridge.

Taehyung leans forward on the counter and observes her in silence, knowing he can’t say anything to her while Yoongi and Jungkook are here.

As if on cue, Jungkook seems to notice him just then. “Hyung! Did Dilara tell you the good news? About Calvin Klein?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately; he notices Dilara stiffen momentarily but continuing to move things around in the fridge. “Yep, I was there when she got the email,” he says. “It’s fantastic.”

He doesn’t think Jungkook would’ve put two and two together, and neither does he think Dilara would’ve even mentioned the elephant in the room that had existed since she’d first told Taehyung about Calvin Klein considering her.

“Jungkook,” says Yoongi after a moment. “Come help me with something.”

“What?”

“Just come.” Tugging him by the t-shirt, he leads Jungkook out of the kitchen.

Left alone, Taehyung keeps watching his girlfriend. As though feeling his eyes on her, she closes the fridge and turns around.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going out again.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. He takes a sip of the lemonade and almost gags; it’s almost sickly sweet. Looking up to see her raising her eyebrows, he clears his throat. “It’s nice. Syrupy.”

She frowns, seeming partly amused. “I, uh… I talked to Namjoon,” she says.

“Really?” Taehyung is surprised; he didn’t think Dilara was the type to confront Namjoon about his personal life. Much as she admired him, he was sure the leader also intimidated her a little.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to but he seemed really down and, I don’t know…” She shrugs, going back to unpack the two remaining brown bags of groceries. “You know, I was going through a break-up last year, too,” she says innocently, “and he gave me a lot of advice about how to deal with my ex-boyfriend at the time.”

“Interesting,” says Taehyung seriously, moving around the counter to help her with the groceries. “Tell me more.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see half a smile creep up on her face.

“No way,” she says instead. “That was a private conversation, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“What?” he exclaims in mock-outrage. “No, you know what? Whatever he said, it seems like it worked for me. Or… this mysterious… sexy, romantic ex of yours that’s your type apparently,” he quips, his stomach flipping when she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“I don’t know if I agree with him,” she says after a moment. “She told me he broke up with her because he thought she wasn’t safe with him. And he said that that’s why celebrities - specifically, idols -,” she points out, “- don’t talk about their relationships and flat-out lie to the press when asked. But how is that even a relationship then? If you’re just hiding your partner and not willing to actually deal with all that crap?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Taehyung says it in a matter-of-fact way, watching as she stops a few feet away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t hide you,” he clarifies. She’s giving him a look he’s seen before, one he knows always appears when he says something she calls “declarations”. Her eyes go soft and a hint of a smile flickers across her cheeks, as if to say that even though she knows it can’t be true, she wishes it would. He simultaneously loves it and becomes a bit self-conscious over it.

“Aren’t we hiding right now?”

“We’re keeping our personal life private,” he corrects her. “That’s not the same thing. I wouldn’t hide you.”

“Huh. You really wouldn’t?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He shakes his head, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. “Never,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rests her forehead on her shoulder; the fact that she hasn’t shrugged him off or moved away is a good sign, but she isn’t quite leaning back into him either.

Did Dilara tell you the good news? Taehyung wonders if Jungkook thinks that he and Dilara would be actually working together, if any of the ambassadors or celebrities in the shoot would be. He doesn’t care about any of them, but he can’t imagine taking away from Dilara’s excitement about getting the campaign. Squeezing her waist tighter, he pulls her close.

“Prove it.”

He raises his head slightly. “Come again?”

“Prove it,” she repeats, turning around in his arms and stepping away slightly so she’s leaning back against the counter.

“You want to go public?” he asks sceptically. “Are you sure?”

“Well… not public,” she amends, “but maybe your fans should know, right?”

“Your fans don’t know about me,” he points out.

“No, but they know I’m not single.” Dilara tilts her head, a glint of a challenge in her eyes. “No pressure… but you did bring it up.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek before patting his shoulder and leaving, giving him a wave before disappearing around the corner.

—

It’s almost dinner time when Namjoon wakes up from in front of the laptop where he’d dozed off while working.

“Damn it,” he mutters, checking the time. He trudges straight into the bathroom and into the shower, the cool water helping him wake up at this unusual hour. He’s looking forward to dinner; he feels weak and low on energy and despite being on tour, he intends to eat well tonight.

He doesn’t check his phone again, not until he’s dressed and downstairs where everyone else is gathering and helping themselves to drinks. He gratefully accepts a mojito from a smiling Dilara and clinks his glass with hers.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s doing a live upstairs,” she answers. “Something about switching with Hoseok while he’s in Seoul.”

Namjoon nods, noting the change in schedule no one thought to tell him about. If Taehyung is online today, then Hoseok would have to do a live at least once before the next concert, meaning he and Yoongi could take a break for at least another week or two…

“Holy shit!”

Everyone turns to where Jimin is staring into his phone, mouth open and half-laughing. “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Taehyung just -” Apparently unable to finish his sentence, he shakes his head and passes the phone to Seokjin next to him, laughing in disbelief. He points to something and Seokjin raises his eyebrows.

“Idiot,” he mutters, passing the phone over to Yoongi and Jungkook. Namjoon walks over with a frown and peers into the phone over their shoulders, apparently immediately seeing whatever it is - and looking straight up at Dilara, the frown deepening.

“What is it?” she asks doubtfully, for she’d presumed it was something to do with their work. “Is everything okay?”

Namjoon bites his lip and opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then shakes his head. “You tell me,” he mutters, reaching over to hand her the phone.

A bit hesitant, Dilara takes it and immediately scans the screen. It’s a tweet with a video embedded; it’s Taehyung on a live - this live, wearing the same open-collared white linen shirt he’d been wearing half an hour ago - staring into the camera and speaking softly in Korean, looking more handsome than ever. There’s a SZA song playing in the background and a moment later, he turns up the volume and slides his chair back, bopping his head slightly to the music and running his hands through his thick hair.

He looks magnificent; it takes Dilara a moment to remember that his good looks can’t be the reason the rest of the guys displayed such a reaction. She frowns as he gives a faint smile to the camera, gaze boring into the lens, and leans to the side to pick up something from the ground, giving a clear view of one half of their room including - Dilara squints - a pain red bikini top on the bed.

“What did you do?”

Namjoon’s deep voice of exasperation jerks her out of her train of thought, which is just beginning to make sense of this. She looks up to see Taehyung jogging down the steps in the same white linen shirt and matching shorts, his hands casually in his pockets.

“What?” He looks around, frowning slightly at everyone’s gaze on him. “What’s happening?”

“No way you didn’t know.” Jimin shakes his head, looking terribly amused, and gestures for Dilara to give him the phone. She does silently, her eyes not leaving Taehyung’s face.

He watches the video expressionlessly, only raising his eyebrows at the very end. He hands the phone back to Dilara, catching her eye for a moment.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” says Jimin, looking borderline thrilled at the prospect of it.

“It’s about time,” remarks Yoongi dryly, refilling his glass with wine. “Taehyung hasn’t caused a scandal in a while.”

“When have I ever caused a scandal?”

“No one’s going to get in trouble,” says Namjoon loudly, cutting through the chatter. “But… yeah, the company’s not going to approve of it.”

“Huh.” Taehyung bites his lip and nods. “Well, nothing we can do about it now, I guess.”

“We can get the video taken down,” suggests Jungkook. “It’s on Weverse, right?”

“Won’t everyone have taken screenshots and recordings by now, though?” Dilara asks, continuing to look at Taehyung.

“Yeah, probably,” sighs Namjoon, scrolling through his own phone.

“Top ten most irresponsible moments,” pipes up Seokjin, shaking his head exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, Taehyung, this was a careless move,” adds Jimin instantly, jumping on the train.

“You should be thankful Dilara didn’t show up anywhere in the video,” Namjoon tells him. At that, everyone turns to look at her, as though waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, uh - yeah, it’s - it’s so irresponsible,” she states, biting her lip to keep from smiling when Taehyung turns to her, eyebrows raised, hands on his hips. “But… I don’t really mind.”

Taehyung nods with narrowed eyes, still giving no indication as to the turn of events that led to this. Everyone else seems to be vaguely disappointed with her reaction; she supposes they were expecting some sort of dramatic fight.

Everyone drifts off after that, once it’s clear that the matter is more or less closed. There’s some chatter in different languages, largely debating between pre-gaming and going out, or staying in and watching a movie. Dilara finds she doesn’t really care; she stays out of the conversation, silently accepting a casual kiss on the head from Taehyung as he saunters away to the living room with the others.

“Mojito?” Namjoon offers her. “I tried my best,” he adds apologetically when she takes a sip and winces.

“No, it’s just really strong,” she sputters, eyes watering a bit. “Is this how strong you take it?”

“Sometimes,” he answers simply, but offers no more on the subject. “Are you okay? With this?”

From his partly curious tone, she takes it “this” is referring to Taehyung’s possibly accidental-on-purpose mishap with the live and the red bikini top.

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, pouring some more mixer into her glass and stirring it. “Not like we got caught snogging or something. It’s pretty circumstantial. Do you really think he’ll get in trouble with the company?”

“Not trouble, really. Like you said, it’s circumstantial. Doesn’t prove anything.”

Dilara chooses to ignore that. “That’s good.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But you never know. Things can escalate.”

Dilara glances at him as he picks out the mint leaf from his drink. It suddenly occurs to her that this may be hitting a little close to home.

“It’s… precarious,” she admits after a moment. “But it doesn’t really change anything. Not with us, I mean.”

Namjoon nods, eyes still on his drink. “Well,” he says at last, “that’s good for you, I guess.” He meets her eyes briefly before giving her a small nod and starting to move away.

“Kaya,” blurts out Dilara, watching as he slowly turns around, “is getting published. An excerpt from her thesis - I forgot what it was called -”

“Behavioural Economics in Decision-making,” says Namjoon, nodding and smiling. His dimple appears out of nowhere and catches Dilara by surprise. “That’s amazing. Tell her… tell her congratulations from me, the next time you talk to her?”

He’s actually asking, Dilara realises. She’s about to agree, but at the last second, she looks up at him knowingly. “I’m not telling her anything,” she says, somewhat regretting it when Namjoon nods in acceptance. “You can. You should. She’s happy about it. She and her friends went out to celebrate and everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you that?”

“Not everything,” she admits. “I saw it on Instagram. Which means it’s probably a big deal.”

“Point taken.” Namjoon raises his free hand as Dilara waves at him before walking back into the living room to join the others. He swallows, not sure why the lump is appearing in his throat again. She’s happy about it, apparently. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he wants.

He should congratulate her. Slipping out of the kitchen, he heads to the room he’s sharing with Yoongi and shuts the door behind him, scrolling through his contacts. A notification appears on the top of his screen and he clicks it out of habit. Ignoring the actual subject of the message, he navigates to Kaya’s Instagram, second in his Search results.

Namjoon finds the pictures immediately; it’s the latest album she’s uploaded, consisting of three pictures of a group of people at a nicely-lit restaurant. He absently leans against the desk, missing her so immensely that he feels like his heart could crumble.

Kaya looks beautiful - and tired. But a happy tired, as though she’s worked for months burning the midnight oil and finally given herself a night off. He scans the rest of the people in the first picture; mostly peers from her program, some of whom he’s met before. He swipes right to see a solo picture of her with her glasses on and shifting her hair, followed by a third picture with the entire group around the table, all holding their drinks up towards the camera.

It’s obviously taken by someone else, perhaps a waiter or a passerby. Kaya is a couple of chairs away from the centre, in between her friend Alex - and Adam.

For a moment, his brain doesn’t know how to react. She’s sitting next to him, and smiling - but there are six other people at the table, too. Her thesis advisor went to her celebration dinner. Her thesis advisor that hit on her, slept with her and sees her every day, went to her celebration dinner.

Namjoon bites his lip, feeling his mind about to turn a corner it shouldn’t, for it wouldn’t help anyone. But it’s too close by, just within reach. With the minor buzz of the two mojitos he’s had, his intrusive thoughts take over. He swallows and grits his teeth, regretting it instantly - but it’s too late, for he can see it now: Kaya, Kaya with him, naked and glorious, eyes closed, kissing him, being pleasured by him -

His bedroom door opens loudly, making a couple of people in the living room jerk in surprise.

“Jungkook,” he says gruffly, “you’re carrying your old phone with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” answers Jungkook, standing up slowly. “You need it?”

When Namjoon nods wordlessly, Jungkook gets to his feet and jogs to his room to retrieve his old Samsung, the one he’d brought on tour before buying a new one in London, Namjoon following him.

As Jungkook leads him to his room, he peers surreptitiously into his leader’s room, frowning slightly when he sees his phone on the ground by the wall in three pieces, the screen shattered.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

53 notes · View notes

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

not seokjin relying on the rumor mill to get nari's attention at the hospital aojfaiuhfiuhfuih

both of them being SO happy to see each other and BOTH of them being omg they might not want to see me :( GOD THAT HURTS MEEEE

oh my GOD IF THESE TWO DONT JUST TALK FUCKING HONESTLY I WILL FLIP A TABLE!!!! NARI!!! STOP COMING UP WITH REASONS NOT TO!!!!!

im gonna fucking scream over their opposite reactions to being "okay" again....... seokjin deciding to chase it and nari deciding it's a sign to close the door...... that damn door ALWAYS in their way..... i'm gonna shake them i swear i am!!!!!

meanwhile yoongi is finally FINALLY learning to translate Miso and it is everything!!!!!!

oh jesus christ nari i swear to god i'm locking them in a room until they figure this out, you let them out on their own and they do THIS!!!!!!

A Lack of Colour

Summary: Seokjin realises he needs to have a talk with his girlfriend. Yoongi makes a promise. "i should have given you a reason to stay" - death cab for cutie, a lack of color

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Angst, sort of

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: Please don’t hate me. Takes place a week after Helping Hands. If you want to yell at me with other readers after you're done , you can do so on the Discord channel.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "a lack of color“ by death cab for cutie

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

The ER is quiet today - too quiet.

Nari tries to ignore the giggles and whispers that are permeating the sanitizer whiteness of the room, and concentrates on the breath sounds of the patient on the bed before her. She’s come in complaining vaguely of “chest pains” but it’s mildly frustrating; Nari can’t hear anything except absolutely normal breath sounds and heartbeats.

“Show me where you’re feeling the pain again?” she asks kindly, watching closely as the girl - a kid probably in her early twenties - frowns and gestures largely at the front of her torso.

“Just… everywhere,” she answers unhelpfully.

Nari frowns slightly, not wanting to alarm her patient while a variety of scenarios start flipping through her mind as to why her chest sounds perfectly normal, not dismissing the possibility that her stethoscope is damaged.

She glances up at the girl’s friends, two similar looking girls who seem least bothered about their friend’s situation. Instead, they’re on their phones, exchanging grins and excitedly whispering, nudging the girl on the bed to look at something on their screens.

“Just - give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” Nari walks away calmly and doesn’t stop until she reaches the front desk of the ER. She leans over to the first year resident who’s manning the desk for the day.

“Hey, have you seen Dr Kang or… Cheon or… anyone else?” she asks. “I need a consult.”

“Oh, um, I think they’re all in surgery…” The resident checks a large board behind her. “Yeah, won’t be out for a while. Anything I can help with?” she asks quickly.

Nari nods, empathising with the annoyance of having to answer phones in the ER in place of practising medicine. “I have a case of chest pain - female, early twenties, otherwise seemingly healthy. Her breath sounds, heart beat and EKG are completely normal and she can’t seem to pinpoint any singular area of pain. Can you do some research to understand what this could be?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, of course -“ She retrieves a notebook from her pocket and flips through it vigorously. “I’m sure I can find something -“

They’re interrupted momentarily by another sound of furious whispering - a group of medical student interns pass by them, giggling in hushed tones.

“Not to sound old or anything, but I swear we were more professional at that age,” mutters Nari, shaking her head.

“I kind of get it, though,” says the resident, shrugging apologetically. “It’s not every day there’s an idol somewhere in the hospital.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Like a k-pop idol? Here?”

“Uh-huh. It’s all super secret and high profile, though. He’s in the VIP section and has bodyguards everywhere.”

“Wow. That explains a lot. Anyway, let me know if you find something on the chest -“ Nari pauses abruptly, something clicking. She turns around slowly to look at the girl with the mysterious chest pains, sitting up straight on her bed and whispering with her friends.

“You know what,” she says instead, turning to the resident. “It’s a slow day. Why don’t you take over my patient instead?” she offers.

The resident’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Make sure to really ask her a lot of questions,” adds Nari. As the resident hurries away, pulling on her lab coat, Nari stops her. “By the way… who’s the idol?”

“Oh. Nobody knows.” The resident shrugs. “Rumour is that it’s someone from BTS.”

—

Nari waits outside the entrance of the VIP section, watching as one of the bulky bodyguards slips inside the private hospital room, presumably to ask the said BTS member if he knows and would be okay to see a Dr Choi Nari.

It’s a fifteen percent chance it’s Seokjin. If it’s any of the others, it will be a pleasant run-in. If it’s him… it occurs to Nari for the first time that he might not actually want to see her.

Just as she begins processing this possibility, the bodyguard pokes the upper half of his body outside the room and waves at her to enter.

Her heart leaping slightly, she saunters down the corridor silently, ignoring the two surely-vetted nurses giving her bewildered looks as she pushes open the door.

“Hey.” Seokjin, in a hospital gown, looks tired yet relieved. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Yeah?” Nari takes a few steps towards the bed, hands in the pocket of her lab coat, noting that he seems okay, except for an IV in his forearm and one of his feet elevated on a cushion. “You know where I work. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

He purses his lips hesitantly. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says lightly. “I thought… this might one of those times where lack of privacy would actually come in handy.”

She nods, waiting for the heaviness in her chest to reappear, but it doesn’t. “It did. What happened to you?”

“Oh.” He seems to remember why he’s here. “Um… twisted my ankle. And our regular doctor is out sick today. Irony,” he adds in a soft sing-song voice, grinning when he realises they've done it in unison.

“M-hm. Who’s your doctor here?”

“Uh… Park something. Park Naeun.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Head of the department?” She taps his foot with her pen, ignoring his dramatic gasp of pain. “Must be some twisted ankle.”

“That hurt!”

“No, it didn’t,” she says, giving him a look when his face immediately drops to normal. She points at his chart hooked at the bottom of his bed. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. You don’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, I do. Patient information is confidential and I’m not your doctor.”

Seokjin nods slowly but his expression is clear. Nari waits for him to say what she thinks he’s about to but then decides she doesn’t want him to.

She flips through the chart. “Your vitals seem fine. BP is a bit low…” Automatically, she pulls her stethoscope from the pockets of her lab coat and puts it on. “Sit up?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow but obeys. Keeping the chart down, Nari places a hand on his shoulder and gently presses the chest piece to his chest. “Take a deep breath,” she murmurs, listening closely, frowning when his heart speeds up slightly. She moves to his back. “Lean forward a bit?”

He does so, and the hospital gown falls from his chest to his waist. His skin feels warm where Nari places the chest piece on his back. “Slightly tachycardic. You’re dehydrated, Kimbap.”

“Bingo,” he says, sounding tired again. Up close, he looks paler. But his eyes look more full of life than Nari has seen them in a while. She frowns curiously for a moment before realising it’s the first time she’s called him Kimbap in months.

In order to break the silence, heavy with meaning, she places the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. And you look thinner,” she adds, stepping away. “Have you been eating properly?”

He chuckles pointedly. “Hello, pot. I’m kettle.”

A smile flits across her face. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Airplane food is shit.”

“Even business class?”

“Absolutely. And touring is tiring.”

Nari nods, placing the chart back. There’s nothing much for her to do; rest and fluids are all he needs and both are taken care of for now. She hesitates, wondering if she should leave. A moment later, she takes a seat on the chair next to his bed.

Seokjin doesn’t try to hide his smile. “Don’t have surgery to get to?”

“It’s a slow day.” She nudges his bed lightly with her foot. “How have you been?”

Seokjin’s smile fades slightly, and his eyes fall. Nari bites her lip; it’s only been a week, but it feels like forever ago. Standing inches away from each other, his cheekbones under her fingers, his palpable desperation followed by clear, transparent realisation.

Despite that, it’s the first time in months that she’s been around him without wanting to cry. Talking with him is easier. Being around him feels like it used to. The truth is out there, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest.

“Okay. Been thinking a lot,” he says, glancing up at her.

She nods. She wants to ask more, but looking at his pale face and clammy forehead, she decides not to. Not while there’s a chance of delirious answers.

“Where’s Seulgi?”

His face falls. “Oh, crap. I should call her.” He reaches over to his bedside table and picks up his phone, only to see a black screen. “Damn it.”

“You should let your people know to let her in,” says Nari, taking his phone from him and plugging it in to charge behind the bedside table. “They’re fairly intimidating.”

He half-chuckles. “And yet here you are.”

“The whole hospital’s talking about a famous idol here somewhere. Had to check out the rumour for myself.”

“Good to know.” He turns to check that his phone is charging and sits back. “She’s gone to see her parents in Busan,” he says after a moment. “So I don’t think I’ll see her. I fly out the day after tomorrow,” he adds, answering her silent question.

“Oh. You may not be in a state to,” she tells him, pointing to the IV in his forearm.

“Don’t have a choice.” He sighs and closes his eyes, placing his other arm over them. His chest looks white, not a single bit of loose flesh anywhere. But she knows better than to argue with his schedule.

“Keep a water bottle on you at all times. One with a carabiner that you can hook onto your bag.” She clicks her tongue. “There is no way that this is the first time I’m telling you this.”

“Okay, Dr Choi,” he mutters, not moving.

She slaps his shoulder lightly. “I’m not kidding. You’re making yourself sick. You look like a ghost, Kimbap.”

“On the plus side, my hair game has never been stronger.”

She reaches over and ruffles his hair until he slaps her hand away, laughing.

“Don’t be jealous, Nari,” he says loftily, delicately straightening his bangs along his forehead.

“I’m not,” she says honestly.

He gives her a small smile but says nothing. “Thanks for coming,” he says after a moment. “Truth be told… I don’t feel that great.”

Nari wonders if she’s imagining the double meaning, or if she simply wants to. The look on his face at the restaurant opening when she’d finally told him, in as many words as she could, how she felt; it had simultaneously broken her heart and renewed hope because now he knew.

Part of her had expected their lingering desperation at maintaining a friendship to die a feeble death right then, but Seokjin seems to be genuinely glad she’s here right now. She searches, again, for the heaviness - but it has disappeared.

“‘Course I did,” she says softly, squeezing his hand. He squeezes it back, warm and dry, and Nari feels like crying. Not out of sadness, or heartbreak - but out of relief. There was a lack of colour in her life but it’s back now, clear, beautiful and messy.

“Nari, look… about -”

The door flies open and Dr Park Naeun stands at the doorway, youthful as ever in her late forties, with a sharp frown on her forehead.

“Dr Choi,” she states sternly. “I don’t remember assigning you on this case. Are you cleared to be here?” Without waiting for Nari’s response, she turns to Seokjin and her face softens. “I’m sorry, I was told you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m not,” he says instantly, letting go of Nari’s hand. “Nari - er, Dr Choi,” he amends, glancing at her sheepishly, “is my oldest friend. No disturbance at all.”

Dr Park nods, still seeming a little unconvinced. “Alright. You should rest, though. Dr Choi - the ER isn’t going to run itself.”

Sensing her cue, Nari stands up, her hand brushing Seokjin’s. “Of course. Take care,” she says softly to him before walking past her boss and out of the hospital room.

—

Nari doesn’t stop by again except later that night to inform him she’s going home and checking his vitals once more. Seokjin stays motionless while she presses the chest piece of her stethoscope once more to his torso, soft and familiar fingers brushing against his skin. The medication makes his heart race but he tries not to show it, and he doesn’t exhale until she leaves the room.

He is discharged the next day; a shiny black SUV takes him back to the dorm, where all the members have elected to stay until the tour ends. It’s both convenient yet mildly chaotic; the only time any of them go back to their own apartments is when Dilara is in town, or if Jimin is to meet Sooah, or if Jungkook is entertaining one of his casual lady friends.

As it so happens, the only person in the house when Seokjin returns is Min Yoongi, eating a bowl of cereal at four pm in front of the television.

“Hey, you’re back,” he says unnecessarily. “When did - wait, why didn’t you tell any of us when you were coming back? We could’ve picked you up.”

Seokjin waves his hand dismissively. “Not necessary. Everyone has enough going on.” He takes a seat next to Yoongi on the sofa and sighs, gratefully accepting the bowl of cereal and taking a large bite of choco flakes and cold milk. “Oh, God, that’s good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I can get you a bowl,” offers Yoongi, heading to the kitchen when Seokjin nods. He brings back a plate with a bowl of cereal on it, along with toast and blueberry jam. “I know it’s carbs but you were sick - you need your energy.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about carbs right now,” agrees Seokjin, eagerly taking the plate and going straight for the toast, not emerging until he finishes an entire slice. “Jesus. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Yoongi nods, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Yesterday was a bit shit but I woke up feeling pretty okay. Nari’s convinced it was the rest and fluids but I think it was the super comfortable hospital bed and jelly cups that did the trick.”

“You met Nari?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “How, uh, how is she?” he asks, sounding a bit guilty.

Seokjin is sure he’s recalling the disastrous not-date that occurred at the restaurant opening a week ago, but says nothing. Nari’s transparent embarrassment from that night doesn’t need to become public knowledge.

“She’s okay. It was kind of weird seeing her in work mode, but - but it was good,” he replies, realising as he says it, that for the first time in a long time, it actually was good. Maybe it was the fact that he was sick or that he hadn’t actually seen her smile at him in forever, but it was the closest he’d felt to her in months.

Kimbap. And maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t alone in it.

“Why are you smiling?”

“What?” Seokjin stares at his remaining cereal. “I’m -” About to deny it, he stops. “Okay, I need to get something off my chest.”

“Okay.” Yoongi mutes the television.

“I -” He takes a deep breath, not really sure where to begin. “Um… after the restaurant opening, when Nari was leaving…” He swallows, feeling his stomach squirm the same it has the entirety of the last week, every single time he thought about her and that night. “I think… Nari might have feelings for me.”

There’s a few moments of silence. When Yoongi doesn’t answer, Seokjin turns to him to see him looking back expectantly. “And?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Well…” Seokjin frowns.

Yoongi squints. “Please don’t tell me that’s news to you.”

Seokjin opens his mouth then closes it, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s not… news,” he admits. “But it’s confirmation. I didn’t think it was likely, not after the pregnancy scare and with that Jason guy… but I did wonder. Maybe,” he finishes, shrugging tiredly. “Kind of felt wrong to speculate once I got together with Seulgi,” he mutters.

“Does Seulgi know? Wait - what actually happened?” Yoongi asks instead.

“Nothing happened,” he clarifies immediately. “Not like that.” But it could have. Another second and I might have. “But… I mean, I would be deliberately obtuse if I didn’t see it now, right?”

Although it doesn’t answer his question, Yoongi tactfully doesn’t repeat it. “But you said everything was good with her yesterday?”

“That’s just it.” Seokjin pounces on what’s been going through his head for the last twenty-four hours. “It’s been a nightmare for almost a year and then suddenly it’s… we’re back to normal. Kind of.” He shakes his head. “I kept thinking it might have made it worse, having it out in the open. But it isn’t. It’s like a switch flipped.” I got my best friend back, he thinks, and a part of his heart soars.

“What does Seulgi think?” When Seokjin doesn’t answer, Yoongi sits back on the couch, still observing his friend. “Does she know about this new development at all?”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters. “I don’t even know what this development is.” He catches Yoongi’s knowing look. “I’m serious. It was, like, fifteen minutes in total and it was… normal. If anything, the last few months were a development. This is the default.”

Seokjin is mildly aware he’s rambling now, especially when Yoongi conspicuously utters nothing. It’s just as well; he’s run out of ways to explain the situation. There are no appropriate words to describe the wave of emotions he’d experienced since last week, beginning with shock and solace that Nari was finally communicating with him, stress and fear that this may just have pushed her away for good, and a numbing relief when she’d shown up yesterday.

He wishes he’d hugged her. He wishes she’d stayed longer, or that stupid Dr Park hadn’t told her to leave. He wishes he knew what she was going through last week, if she was truly as relaxed as she seemed, if her confession really had been as cathartic for her to make as it had been for him to hear.

“Do you think you can travel tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, breaking the silence.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Seokjin shifts on the sofa, running a hand over his face. “It should be fine.”

Tomorrow. It seems too soon now, now that there’s so much to leave behind in Seoul. She was happy. It was, at the crux of it, the detail that sticks in his mind. He imagines the weight off her chest, imagines her expecting something from him, imagines telling her what she wants to hear. It could get complicated, for certain, but the thought of it doesn’t tire him the way it used to.

“Hey, you know what?” Seokjin asks, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “That night, when Nari was leaving the party, she said you were… kissing someone?”

Yoongi goes very still. “She told you about that?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his tone.

“Well… she was upset,” he says hastily. “I don’t think she knew it was a secret… is it a secret?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

Yoongi is silent for a moment longer. “There’s nothing to tell, honestly,” he mutters, and that’s enough to indicate that the topic is closed.

Later that evening, as he drives to the Big Hit building, Yoongi finds himself regretting being so abrupt with Seokjin.

But there is nothing to tell. He didn’t lie. There has been virtually no contact with Miso since that night, and he hasn’t been able to come up with a single appropriate way to begin conversation. Hey, I just want to skirt around the awkwardness of kissing you in a coat closet right after you admitted your psychotic mother has a habit of stealing men from you, so how’s it going? I miss you.

It was variations of this until Yoongi gave up, choosing to give her space and time to process everything and let the ball be in her court for once.

Even when he reaches the floor, he makes sure to only wave at her while she’s standing with Donghyuk and a couple of other people before ducking into his own studio. He stays there for a while, distractedly flipping through his files and trying to remember why exactly he’d come in today at all.

After a few minutes, he decides he needs a cigarette, taking the elevator to the terrace and stepping out into the pleasant evening air.

He lights his first cigarette and takes a deep drag, closing his eyes when the door creaks open behind him.

“They don’t let you smoke on tour?”

Yoongi doesn’t move. “They’d probably have a heart attack if I did. Although my make-up artist joins me for a secret one once in a while.”

“Clandestine smoke breaks feel different,” she agrees, slipping out her own pack and placing a cigarette between her lips. Yoongi reaches forward and lights it for her, and her eyes look brown in the brightness of the flame.

Miso breathes it in and lets the smoke out without flinching. “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yeah… weren’t you in Europe or something this week?” She frowns. “The flying must be playing havoc with your system.”

She means the tour. Yoongi nods a little belatedly. “I guess. I’m used to it. I sleep when I can. How are you?” he ask after a moment.

“Same as always.” Miso takes another drag before giving him a side glance. “Also… I just want to move on from the whole… weirdness of our - of us, you know, kissing in the aftermath of my whole word vomit about my demented mother going after men far too young for her.” She exhales, having said everything in one breath.

Yoongi stares at her, blinking wordlessly before he realises she’s expecting a response from him. “Oh, hey… don’t worry. No weirdness whatsoever.”

She gives him a small smile and leans back against the railing he’s looking over, the city of Seoul lit up under them. Their shoulders brush and Yoongi tries to grasp at anything to keep the conversation going. “Um, so… how are things with - with you and your mom?”

Miso frowns slightly, as though she hadn’t expected this question. “As good as they’ll ever be? We’ve successfully ignored each other all week,” she explains, half-chuckling.

Yoongi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe; it’s not a common cue to take, so he simply nods. She seems a bit jittery; the last time he’d seen her like this, it was almost a year ago at her house, the first glimpse he’d gotten a peek into her life. He’s about to reach for her hand which is holding the cigarette and tapping absently at the railing, but at that moment she raises her hand to take another drag.

“Anyway, I, uh…” She clears her throat and taps the cigarette, ash falling on the ground, “I’m just glad we didn’t… I mean, you don’t have to feel like… God, it was a weird night,” she sighs awkwardly. “But it doesn’t have to… go anywhere. We can just go back to normal.”

Unlike her, Yoongi doesn’t look away. “Truth be told, I’m not really sure what normal is with us.”

Looking at the ground, Miso half-chuckles again, without humour. She’s wearing full sleeves again, despite a mostly warm day. Beige sleeves and a dark t-shirt on top; her skin looked white against it, like porcelain.

“I know,” she admits, flicking ash again. “But I’m just saying, it doesn’t have to be… anything different. Whatever normal is.” She shrugs and when Yoongi doesn’t respond, she looks up. “I’m just saying… it was a long night. I was on edge, surrounded by my mother and her friends and you… and everyone was hungry because they took forever to serve dinner…” She exhales, and grey smoke comes out of her nostrils. “Nothing… really happened.”

Yoongi stares at her, his face making no movement whatsoever for he finally feels as though she’s reaching the point. “What?”

Miso gazes at him, pursing her lips. It feels as though she’s reading him, trying to gauge what his question is referring to. She takes a last, deep drag and finishes her cigarette. “This is a good thing, Yoongi,” she says at last, stamping out the butt. “You got a look into the shitshow and… you’re getting out ahead.” She gives him a small, forced smile. “You’re off the hook,” she says in English, the unfamiliar accent jarring.

She moves to leave while Yoongi stays frozen to the spot, his stomach sinking slowly. Then, as though jerked out of a trance, he extinguishes his cigarette against a metal pipe on the side and drops the butt, turning around and catching up to her in a few steps.

“I’m off the hook?” he repeats, voice low and sticking to Korean.

She doesn’t look too surprised that he’s stopped her, but her forced nonchalance wobbles slightly. “Well, the proverbial hook.”

“Yeah? What hook is that?”

“The hook that pegged you to kiss me in a coat closet after I… dumped my mommy-trauma on you.” She shakes her head. “There was a lot going on and I don’t… I’m not expecting anything from you. Not for that.”

Yoongi bites his lip. “So… I’m off the hook for the spur-of-the-moment kiss we shared after I assured you that you can trust me.”

Miso’s eyes flicker momentarily but she reverts to her blasé expression instantly. “The words sound like you get me, but your tone is throwing me off,” she says wryly.

He takes a step closer to her. “You are,” he mutters tightly, his hand clenching into a fist, “the single most uniquely frustrating person I have ever met.”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting annoyed with me,” she replies, but Yoongi doesn’t believe her, scoffing and turning away. “You want this, believe me.” When he doesn’t answer, she folds her arms across her chest. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to get involved. I don’t know why you’re still trying to.”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder the same thing myself,” he snaps, walking past her and out of the terrace. He catches a glimpse of her just as the elevator doors close and he bristles; there’s no doubt, guilt or anger on her face. It’s an expression he’s seen numerous times before, annoying him more each time: the one of being proven right.

—

Donghyuk [21:15] Going out with some of the prods in a bit. Drinks on BH. You in?

Yoongi [21:16] Don’t think so. Too much to get done.

Donghyuk [21:16] Sure? Kim Namjoon’s coming too. Probably.

Yoongi [21:17] You asked him?

Donghyuk [21:17] Not yet.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, although Namjoon might just agree to go. Anything to get his mind off his girl.

Yoongi [21:18] Raincheck. In the zone right now.

Donghyuk replies with an irrelevant emoji but doesn’t push. Yoongi locks his phone and stares at the wide screens in front of him. A part of him had planned to return to the dorm tonight to give Seokjin some company; something about how deep in thought the older member had been earlier today was throwing Yoongi off. Seokjin didn’t divulge much, but Yoongi had a feeling he might want to just this once.

There’s also the added bonus of a hot meal most likely awaiting him at the dorm, for when Seokjin was stressed, he tended to cook.

Yoongi [21:25] Hyung. Need me to pick up anything for dinner?

Seokjin [21:27] Not for me. I’m probably going out.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at this unexpected response, his stomach rumbling sadly. But he ignores it, reaching for his half empty pack of cigarettes and debating another smoke break, when his studio door opens without permission and he turns, his heart skipping an automatic beat.

Miso pokes her head in, expressionless. “Donghyuk’s leaving. He asked me to check if you want to schedule the demo with that rookie girl group tomorrow at noon.”

Yoongi turns back around. “Sure. Anything else?”

She hesitates. “That Chinese place you recommended sucks, by the way. Their portion sizes are deceptively huge and now I’m stuck with enough Kung Pao chicken to feed a small army,” she states in mild exasperation before leaving.

The door swings shut behind her. Yoongi scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. Uniquely frustrating. Everything had to be an argument, and every argument had to be won by her, even if it was about an excess of Kung Pao chicken.

He checks his pack to see about half a dozen cigarettes left, when something clicks. He pauses and, on cue, his stomach rumbles again.

Grabbing his phone and the smokes, Yoongi stands up and heads out of his studio, making a beeline down the corridor for Donghyuk's. He can smell the food even before he pushes the door open.

Miso looks up when he enters, not looking entirely surprised, but - he notes with caution - her shoulders relax as though in relief. Four boxes of food are on the console table in front of her while she unpacks the chopsticks. As he takes a seat next to her mutely, she unpacks the last items in the bag: two cans of lemonade. She slides one over to him and he catches it.

“Thanks.”

She nods, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “I’ve heard the food’s not bad.”

“So have I. I didn’t know about the lemonade on their menu, though.” He takes a sip and swallows it slowly, wincing slightly at the tartness. “Not bad.”

Miso, her can unopened in front of her, observes him thoughtfully before bending over the other side of her chair and retrieving two cans of Budweiser Premium. She offers one to him, eyebrows raised.

“Are we allowed alcohol in here?” he asks mildly, taking the can anyway.

“No idea.”

“Not afraid of getting caught?”

She hitches one leg on the edge of her chair and pops her can open, taking a long sip. “What are they going to do? Fire me?”

Nope. Not daddy’s nepo princess.

A year ago, Yoongi would’ve said it out loud. The arrogance of her statement would have struck him in his very core, except now he can only detect apathy in it. What’s the worst they can do? Fire me?

He opens his own can and takes a sip, the cold beer feeling incredible in his chest. “God, I feel healed.”

The corner of her mouth lifts and she reaches over, and they clink their cans together. “Cheers.”

As they eat, Yoongi finds himself more confused than ever. Not only did Miso, in her own twisted way, offer an olive branch and buy him dinner, but for the first time since he’s known her, she is initiating conversation.

“Are you allowed to drink on tour?” she asks him, curiously scooping some noodles into her paper bowl.

“Only as long as we’re not seen. And as long as it doesn’t make us put on weight or bloat or break out…” He shrugs. “So… no. Not really.”

“Is the company afraid your fans will get scandalized if they see you, an adult man, consuming alcohol?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that.”

“Damn. How do you smoke?”

“I don’t, as much. I wait to come home and do it in peace.”

She grins and his heart catches. “Yeah? Dreaming about the Big Hit terrace while sailing around the world?”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I wake up smelling instant coffee and cornflakes.”

“A man so loyal to his work,” she says dryly, chuckling when he waves a hand in mock-embarrassment. “Big Hit is so lucky to have you.”

“They make me do a lot more dancing than I ever signed up for, so… you know what? They kind of are,” he agrees, smiling when she laughs. “Damn, this is good beer.”

Without being asked, she hands him another one, and their fingers brush on the cold can. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Miso lets go and leans back, busying herself with something else. Yoongi glances at her as he absently bites down on a mushroom, wanting to bring up their earlier encounter today, last week and all the preceding weeks - but it’s not a good idea. Not during this precarious time of… he isn’t even sure what to call it.

“How come you didn’t go out with Donghyuk and the guys?”

“Work,” he answers simply. “How come you didn’t?”

“Work, I guess. And I had all this food to finish,” she reminds him, gesturing to the half a dozen boxes on the table. “You’re only back for a couple days, though. How come you don’t want to, you know…” She does an awkward wave with her shoulders. “... party?”

Yoongi stifles a chuckle. “Someone had to help you finish all this food. Apparently it’s my fault there’s so much of it.”

“It is. But the food is actually quite… not bad,” she adds generously. “How’d you know about this place?”

“Oh, I, uh… I used to deliver for them,” he confesses, nodding when she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “It’s been a few years, but… there was this one apartment over in Hongdae that ordered in from there almost every single day. A couple of roommates, fresh out of college, I think,” he recalls. “I asked them once about it and they said they worked long hours and ordering in from here was what kept them going.”

“Wow.” Miso is quiet for a moment. “So you started eating from here, too?”

“Once I could afford it, yeah.” He catches her eye but she lowers her eyes, almost as if ashamed. “The shrimp fried rice is the best thing on the menu, though.”

She nods, glancing up at him. “Noted. For next time.”

Yoongi’s heart soars unexpectedly before his mind forces their disagreement on the terrace to the forefront of his mind.

“I didn’t know you delivered food,” she says after a moment.

“Mhm. It’s also when I learned to pick a lock, because these kids in one of the Gangnam neighbourhoods would lock people’s bicycles for fun,” he tells her, rolling his eyes.

“What? Why?”

“Who knows.” He tosses his empty bowl on the table and stretches back in his chair. “Dumb, rich kids with nothing better to do,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling. When he glances back down at her, it’s to see her quietly cleaning up, her hair covering the side of her face.

Yoongi starts to say something but thinks the better of it, instead helping her clear the table.

“Tell me something about you,” he says a little while later, as they share a single serving of chocolate mousse. “Not your parents or your… driver or whoever. You.”

Miso raises her eyebrows, looking a little startled at the question; it’s clear that it’s not something she gets asked too often.

“I don’t know. I’m really not that interesting.”

He gives her a look. “I told you about being a delivery boy. Interesting isn’t the criteria here.”

“Fine.” She purses her lips and frowns, apparently thinking. “Okay, I have one. Ready?”

“On the edge of my seat.”

A smile flits across her face. “Okay… I’m red-green colourblind.” She shrugs hugely, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Huh. Really?” Yoongi wasn’t expecting that. “So, can you…”

“I can,” she confirms. “I wear contact lenses so I can pretty much see everything normally. But, yeah. That’s something about me.”

“Have you - sorry, this might be a stupid question -“ He raises a hand and she waves her own, permitting him to ask. “Have you always had it?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s genetic,” she adds. “My mother used to take me to the optometrist in secret, as if she was afraid that my father would explode at a reminder of a weakness,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Actually, that seems pretty on brand for him.”

Yoongi frowns. “But if it’s genetic…”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have it,” she confirms. “Neither does my mother, which means she’s a carrier.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not something we talk about. Ever.”

She says it in a matter-of-fact way, as though it’s the most understandable thing in the world for her own issues to take a backseat to her egocentric father’s insecurities.

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “So it’s your little secret?”

“Kind of. Strange to think about,” she agrees. She is quiet for a moment. “She really did seem to care that I had the best possible doctors and specialists and whatnot.” She shudders. “It’s like a fever dream.”

He doesn’t know how to react to this so he follows her cue and returns her wry smile. “I saw a picture of you as a kid at your house. You were a cute kid.”

Miso narrows her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Where are you going with this?”

“Nothing. Just picturing you holding your mother’s hand, going to the optometrist.” He grins when she rolls her eyes. “You did say she took you in secret.”

“Well, she and Seungkwan,” she amends. “Not that we ever discussed it with him but I’m pretty sure he guessed.”

This is news. Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? And he never told your father?”

A faint smile appears on Miso’s face. “It’s a dangerous thing to be that loyal to my father. Some things are better left ignored.”

He senses something else in her words, but doesn’t ask. He remembers her driver vaguely; somehow, he appears everywhere she is, whenever she needs him.

“Well, I can keep your secret,” he promises her, leaving the last bite of the mousse and handing it to her.

Her smile widens as she takes it from him. “I know,” she says. “I trust you.”

Yoongi holds her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Miso’s smile fades. “Yoongi…” She trails off when he drops his head, suddenly tired. She begins again. “You know, you’re the only person in the world who’s ever apologised to me,” she tells him.

She waits until he meets her eyes again, and he’s slightly startled at how sorry she looks. He struggles for a moment to recall what she’s talking about, the memories of the aftermath of the launch party crawling to the forefront of his mind.

“That isn’t -“

“I’m just saying… It seems okay now. Now,” she repeats. “But you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m not talking about my parents,” she says quickly when he opens his mouth. “I’m saying…” She sighs. “Yoongi, I don’t think I can give you what you want. I don’t know how.”

Yoongi says nothing; his throat feels stuck and he worries that if he speaks, his voice might break. It doesn’t feel like a rejection, but he also can’t find a way to respond. Once again, she’s won the argument.

They leave soon after that, once they clean up in silence and Yoongi takes out the trash while Miso closes down Donghyuk’s studio. He walks her to the elevator, both of them walking beside each other with just enough distance between them to not touch.

I don’t know how. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit, and he can’t tell if it’s because of her fucked up parents or her general tendency to keep a distance that she believes she’s incapable of genuine human connection.

When they reach the elevator and she reaches up to press the button, his eyes fall on her wrist and he wants, once again, to grab it and push her sleeve up her forearm. The bruise he’d seen all those months ago feels like a siren he’d ignored; it makes him sick to think about another potential one on her wrist right now.

The doors open, Miso glances at him hesitantly. “I don’t know about you… but I actually had a good time tonight.” She nods once. “Thanks, Yoongi.”

He slips his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Thanks for what?”

“You know…” She steps in between the doors to stop them from closing and turns to face him. “Helping me out… with the Kung Pao chicken and everything,” she finishes, her mouth lifting up at the corners. By the way she bites her lip, he knows his own face is betraying at least a hint of humour. Or maybe it’s exasperation, or annoyance, or infatuation, or everything at once.

“Your driver… Seungkwan?” He waits for her to nod. “He’s here?”

“Downstairs,” she confirms.

Take care. Call me if you need anything. Call me if you don’t need anything, too.

“See you around, Miso.” He waves mechanically and it immediately feels ridiculous.

She frowns curiously but mimics his awkward wave. “Bye.” She takes a step back into the elevator and presses the button, and he takes a similar step further back. She gives him a small smile as the doors start to close.

Yoongi starts to walk back towards his studio, noting the elevator only in his peripheral vision. As he leaves, the image of her on the terrace comes back to him; through another set of closing elevator doors, her look of mild satisfaction, almost expectant.

It only takes a fraction of a second; Yoongi turns on the spot and hurries back to the elevator, slipping through just before the doors close fully.

“Whoa.” Miso jerks back slightly, but doesn’t look annoyed “What are you doing?” she asks as he steps towards her.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,” he assures her dryly, ignoring the look she gives him and reaching over to wrap her in a hug. He waits a moment, and then two, and then relaxes when he feels her arms go stiffly around his waist.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She smells of lilies and cigarette smoke. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her, closing his eyes and meaning every word of it.

It takes another moment but she tightens her arms around him. Her fingertips brush his shoulders and - he hopes he’s not imagining this - he feels her smile against his collarbone.

They step away from each other a few seconds later when the doors start to open. There’s a tinge of pink on her cheeks he’s never seen before. She hitches her bag on her shoulders as she exits.

“Don’t be such a sap, Min Suga.” But the blush says differently, as does the small smile she visibly struggles and fails to hide.

Yoongi grins at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter and taller all at once. He’s made a decision, and now she’s in on it, too.

—

It’s almost close to dinner time, but for once Seokjin isn’t hungry.

His phone stares at him from where he’d tossed it on the futon a few minutes ago, the screen painfully dark. He was trying to spare himself the temptation of checking it every second, but this isn’t any better.

After staring at it for a few more seconds, he reaches for it and replays the voicemail he’d sent to Nari over an hour ago.

“Hey. It’s me. Seokjin. Er, Kim Seokjin. I got discharged and I’m home. I hydrated, too, like you said. Still am, in fact. You may have been onto something, Dr Choi. Anyway… thanks for coming yesterday. It really meant a lot and I’m… God, I can’t tell you how good it was to hang out with you again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. And… I do want to talk about last week. I know things have been really weird with us for a while but I don’t want them to be anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot this last week - I can’t help it, I’ve tried to stop, believe me. I’ve been way too afraid to lose you as a friend. I’d be lost without you, Nari. But… I may have been overcompensating on that front. I don’t know where this leaves us, but I want to figure it out. With you. Not in my own head, the way I’ve been doing it this whole time. I’m flying out tomorrow, but do you think we could talk tonight? Coincidentally, I have everything needed to whip up jajjangmyeon, too. Just throwing that in there. Let me know. Oh, this Seokjin.”

There’s a click to signal the end of the message, but Seokjin’s stomach churns more than ever, though not necessarily in a bad way. He’s officially entered the ring, albeit to do what, he isn’t completely sure. All he knows is that there’s no ignoring this anymore, the uncomfortable distance with Nari, the subtle hostility between her and Seulgi, the distaste with which he thinks of Kang Jason at the oddest times.

Nari hasn’t replied or called him back yet, but he tries not to stress about it. Most likely, she’s in surgery, or the ER, or even catching up on sleep in an on-call room. He’s determined to stay up all night, though; he can sleep on the flight tomorrow.

Automatically, his eyes fall to the last message he’d sent to Seulgi. Hey. I was hoping we could talk. Call me when you’re free?

She had replied a little while ago. Sure. Everything okay?

Seokjin didn’t have a response to that, so he’d sent her a skull emoji instead, hoping that would do the trick.

He wishes he wasn’t touring right now. There’s a better way to do this: with Seulgi, in person, thorough and rational - and then with Nari, slow and gentle, giving her space and control.

But he has one day - no, one night - before he leaves once more for weeks, with all three of them left to stew in their own thoughts for that time. Sure, he can call - but calls can be ignored. So can messages, and voicemails, and then before he knows it, he’s back in Seoul, tired and jet lagged only to find out that the situation has progressed, leaving him completely out of the loop.

After considering it for a minute, he picks up the phone and calls Seulgi. Fortunately, she picks it up on the second ring.

“Hey,” she says, panting slightly. “I went out for a run; I was just about to call you. What’s up?”

“Um -“ He bites his lip. “Not - not much. How are you? How are your folks?”

“They’re good. Mum’s asking when she can meet you but I deflected that,” she adds, but there’s a knowing lilt to her voice. “You have enough going on right now.”

Do I ever. “I appreciate that. I just wanted to talk before I fly out tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could’ve been there. You barely get any time off as it is and even when you do, I’m not in town.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He picks at a loose thread on the corner of the sofa. “You don’t have to accommodate your family plans around my crazy schedule. And I’ll be back again soon.”

“Can’t wait.” She pauses. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks, apparently done with small talk. “You seemed serious.”

It’s not serious, he’s about to say, but stops himself. “It’s… it’s about Nari. We kind of… ran into each other.”

There’s another pause, a longer one this time. “Okay. When?”

“Yesterday, when she visited me at the hospital. I wasn’t expecting -“

“You were in the hospital?” She interrupts him, tone suddenly anxious.

He freezes. “Yeah, but it - it wasn’t serious. I was dehydrated, that’s all. I don’t even know why they took me to the hospital, honestly. I’m back home now.”

Her next response is instant. “But Nari knew?”

“I - only because it was her hospital. And I didn’t tell her - she found out.” He waits for her to respond. “Seulgi, it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t here - I didn’t want to worry you. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

There’s another pause and then she sighs deeply. “Okay. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Oh, boy. “Kind of. Well, no. I…” He sighs. “God, I really wish we were doing this in person,” he mutters.

“Wait. Are you -“ She scoffs, but it breaks slightly. “Are you breaking up with me? Over the phone?”

“No! No, I’m not. Look, I think I need to talk to Nari,” he says quickly before he loses his nerve. “It’s been a long time and I… I really need to know what’s going on. But I want you to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Where do I start? “I mean, you know what it’s been like. But it’s just been too long - and I think she might be ready to talk to me, too. I have to try and fix it with her… I hope you understand why, Seulgi,” he adds, meaning it and already feeling horrendous.

“But I thought she was mad at you.” Seulgi is calm - too calm, and it’s worrying. “Or something. What’s changed?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” It’s not a complete lie. I think she might have feelings for me based on a moment we shared a week ago, where neither of us actually spoke. Not only did it sound insane, it didn’t actually clarify anything. There was no point bringing it up when he wasn’t sure of it either.

“So…” She takes a deep breath on the other end. “Let me get this straight. She’s been evasive and distant and - let’s face it - sort of pissed at you. And then something changed… and suddenly she’s nursing you back to health during a hospital visit that I’m finding out about now.”

Seokjin closes his eyes. “I know it sounds bad,” he murmurs. “And I know it’s my fault it’s so messed up. I don’t… If I think back, I don’t know where I went wrong, but I’m sure I did something. You know?” He bites his lip, suddenly glad he’s flying out tomorrow, far away from his girlfriend and his best friend where he can’t hurt them anymore. “I don’t want to be unfair to you,” he admits.

“Why do you think you are?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know…” He runs a hand down his face tiredly. “There’s a lot of history there and baggage and stuff…” There's no telling what we’ll find.

“You know what I think, Seokjin?” she says after a few moments. “I think you’re not fully sure of what you want. Or you are,” she guesses, “and you just don’t want to admit it because if you do and you don’t get it, you’re afraid it’ll devastate you.”

Seokjin swallows. His vision blurs without warning and he blinks rapidly, a distinct memory threatening to surface, of hope being crushed in his chest, a life he’d dared to imagine disappearing before he’d even fully wrapped his head around it. He’d repressed it as best as he could, figuring there was no one to blame but himself for this lapse in judgement, but it had inadvertently set actions in motion that he will regret for a long time.

He’s taking too long to respond, he realises, but he’s afraid to speak. It might all boil down to that one night and the thought of what it meant - of what it might still mean - is too overwhelming to think about.

“I’m glad you don’t want to be unfair to me,” she states, and there’s finally a bite to her tone. “So call me when you figure it out.” She hangs up.

Seokjin stays frozen for a minute before he sighs, tossing his phone back on the sofa and dropping his head in his hands. Suddenly, everything about his relationship with Seulgi feels tainted, now that his mind is involuntarily tracing the timeline of events back to the day he met her, and then ran into her again. She was lovely and calm and straightforward and put together - and he was so tired.

He needs to talk to Nari. He needs to. His mind is blocked and so is his heart, and it’s occurring to him now that it all comes to Nari. Everything comes down to Nari.

He’d been vague but he can’t imagine she would simply ignore his message, not unless she absolutely hated him. She didn’t, though, his brain reasoned.

She’d visited him, actually talked with him, and she’d called him Kimbap. She would call. Even if she couldn’t meet him, she would call, or text. All he has to do is wait.

—

Nari takes off her lab coat and shakes her hair out, glad to be done with the day.

“See you tomorrow, Nari,” says one of her friends, a perky first year resident with the kind of confidence Nari could only dream of. “Say hi to your famous friend for me.” She winks and leaves.

Nari rolls her eyes but scoffs in humour. Somehow, the other residents in the surgical wing had caught wind of the fact that she knew the elusive celebrity idol that was admitted to the hospital yesterday and while she’d neither confirmed nor denied it, the story spread anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” comments Hyeri, her friend, changing out of her scrubs at the locker next door. “What did you take and can I have some?”

Nari frowns curiously and laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That. The laughing and the smiling and the… being nice to first years and interns.” Hyeri raises her eyebrows. “We haven’t had the mental capacity for that shit in years.” She raises her eyebrows. “Is it actually because of your famous friend? I mean -” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “We’re talking about Seokjin, right?”

“I - yeah. He was here,” admits Nari. “Nothing serious, though. He got discharged today.”

“Oh.” Hyeri sounds surprised at the admission. “That makes sense. You’re relieved.”

Yes… and no. She’s certainly glad Seokjin’s okay, but despite how selfish it makes her feel, she’s even gladder that for the first time in a long time, she was able to be herself around her best friend. It’s definitely relief - Hyeri isn’t wrong about that.

“I can’t believe we’re actually out early enough to have dinner,” remarks Hyeri as they head out of the locker room, out of scrubs and in normal clothes again. “I’m going to get in the tub with a glass of wine and fall asleep in there. Obviously I’m not serious,” she adds quickly, catching Nari’s eye.

“Hey, no judgement. Add some candles while you’re at it and it’ll look like a Madonna video.”

Hyeri chortles. “I’m out of wine, though. Can you send me the number to that liquor store? The one that delivers?”

Nari nods, fishing her phone out of her bag. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Daeun has it, though - she’s the one who sent it to me.”

“Okay, let me - oh, there she is!” Waving hurriedly, Hyeri jogs towards the entrance to catch up with Daeun, another of their resident class who’s leaving for the night as well.

Nari smiles as she watches her friend dash away, and catches herself. The laughing and the smiling and the being nice to interns. It’s not a mystery, the origin of this brand new version of herself. It took a long time and a lot of frustration and courage, but a week after the fact, she knows she’s at a place with Seokjin that she was only hoping she would eventually reach.

It’s a start, she tells herself. It’s a start and irrespective of what happens next, at least it’s a start. She’s lighter and she’s calmer - sometimes, there are moments where she feels freer, as though the invisible chain that kept her tethered to her suppressed feelings has been cut through with a chainsaw.

She stops by the pharmacy in the lobby of the surgical wing to pick up some antiseptic for her first aid box. While the cashier rings up her purchase, she turns absently and spots Jason at the reception, still in scrubs and handing in a couple of patient charts. As he clicks his pen closed and tucks it in his pocket, he grins at something the nurse says and responds, making her laugh.

Grabbing her antiseptic, Nari walks over to him, smiling when he spots her.

“Hey.” He takes in her clothing? “Leaving already? I thought you were helping Dr Park with her trial research.”

Nari shrugs. “She gave me the night off.”

“Wow. Is she okay?”

“I’m not going to ask; I’m just taking the night,” she tells him. It’s a start. “What about you? Are you, uh, free tonight?”

Jason raises his eyebrows casually. “Uh, yeah. I have a couple of things to close out, but I can head out in a bit. Or I can meet you back at my apartment, too, if you want.”

“No, um…” She shakes her head and bites her lip. She hasn’t done this in… ever. “I meant, are you free… for a drink.”

He clearly notices the change in her tone. “A drink,” he repeats. “Just you and me. Like a…”

“M-hm.” Nari nods, but she doesn’t think he’ll say no. Familiarity builds over time, and Nari is suddenly seeing the world - and the people in it - in a newer light.

After a moment, Jason nods. “Absolutely. Just give me fifteen minutes?” He waits for her to nod as well and smiles, touching her elbow as he leaves.

She watches him go and her heart beats pleasantly fast with a small risk that’s paid off. She’s definitely lighter, brighter, calmer - and she can only route it back to the night of her confession to Seokjin. It felt like a start but maybe - just maybe - it was closure.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

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daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

THE PAIRINGS LISTING HAS ME SHAKING IN MY BOOOOOOOOOOTS WHAT'S ABOUT TO HAPPENNNNNNNN

opening line has me NARROWING ME EYES.

noooooooooooooooooo the gaminnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggg with herrrrrrrrr (just know that when i'm complaining i'm usually smiling because i will eat this drama UP)

RAHHHHHHH I HATE THIS (i dont i love it this is so much fun lol)

would love to know what taehyung's up to for, *checks notes*, four hours at a time while these two game....

OH SHIT

OH SHIT HE SAID THE THIN

OH MY GOD

OH MY ODF WHE SAID IT

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

kim taehyung secret genius :)

brooooooooooooooo oh my god he is in suuuuuuuch a bad space someone get this guy a muffin or something he needs some emotional carbs

(me when cath makes taehyung sad: FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT me when cath makes jungkook sad: cackle cackle cackle sorry jungkook it's not personal)

okay here are my final thoughts bc i read this earlier in the week and had a few days to marinate:

I feel like what you're setting up is a situation where jungkook does not actually have real romantic feelings for dilara, but he thinks he does. he may even, at some point, think he loves her. but i think what you've created here is a dynamic that shows his immaturity at this stage and how he likes the parts of himself that he sees in her, he likes the nice feeling of being kindred with someone, and he likes the nice feeling of "winning" her attention and time. i don't think it's on purpose, but she's something for him to win at. but he certainly doesn't see her complexity, and he certainly doesn't love her. the reactions after her crash did an incredible job of showcasing that.

Another World

Summary: Jungkook finds himself going down a path he never intended - and his best friend might just be collateral damage.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC, Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.7 K

Warnings: none

A/N: Whew. This required some research. A disclaimer for any gaming fans out there: the kind of liberties I have taken with the video games described in this fic cannot be overstated. Think Troy butchering The Illiad source material (but with good plot anyway). Set over a period of a couple of months, starting a month after Los Angeles pt. 2)

Listen to: "layla" by eric clapton

taehyung masterlist | jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

Jungkook liked gaming. He liked how immersive it was, how fast it was, how much it required him to get into character and beat the bad guys. Most of all, Jungkook liked to win. Video games were winnable, for the most part. Whether it was rules, strategy or just plain speed, gaming was about beating the bad guys and winning the game.

It may have been due to this reason that all the games he owned and played broadly followed this narrative: hero, quests, bad guys, save the world, win. When he and Dilara moved away from FIFA and Real Racing (both extremely winnable games), this was how Jungkook had introduced her to his collection and invited her to play Mortal Kombat.

Dilara hadn’t been super impressed, although she’d played without fuss. She was in London and he was in Seoul, the night beginning for her and for him, the dawn nearing. They played together, shooting, jumping, killing, running. Winning. She’d played with supreme focus (he could see her on the video at the bottom of the screen). Her eyes were trained on the screen, slight frown on her forehead that remind him ostensibly of Taehyung, her fingers moving rapidly on the console, not uttering a single word except at the beginning of the game: save the cheerleader, save the world.

Jungkook hadn’t got the reference, but she’d said it wryly, as though it was a joke only some people were meant to get. Still, she played with him and four hours later, when they were less than halfway done, she’d sat back in her chair and raised her arms over her head, stretching.

“Don’t get lazy,” he’d commanded, still in the zone. He’d tapped his headset. “We still have so many levels to complete.”

“JK,” she’d sighed. It must have been hot in London; her neck and chest were shining in the fluorescent light from the screen. She swept her long hair up into a bun and her tank top rode up slightly, suddenly revealing how tight it was.

Jungkook had looked away out of habit. It never did well to check out your friends’ girlfriends.

“Don’t you need to sleep? Isn’t it morning for you?”

It was - but Jungkook had the day off. He told her as much but she told him she had to sleep.

“In the middle of the game?” He was aghast. “How can you do that?”

She’d wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a cliffhanger. We can just pick it back up tomorrow. The next levels will be the same. Just shoot ‘em all.” She made a finger gun and pointed it at him before dropping her hand. “There’s no story. All the characters are just… graphic. There’s no emotion, no empathy, no… passion to save the world.”

He’d stared. “It’s saving the world. You need passion to do that?”

Dilara had chuckled tiredly. “Even guns and explosions can have a compelling story. Have you ever played Yakuza?”

Of course Jungkook had played Yakuza. It wasn’t bad, but it had been a lot of information to keep track of. Too many characters, too many plots. He’d played until he’d won, but only because it would’ve killed him not to.

“I have to be at the factory at eight am. I’m going to bed.” She’d pushed back her chair and stood up, and the screen filled for a moment with her chiselled torso, hips, and tan thighs from under her shorts. This time, it took Jungkook a moment longer to look away.

He’d bid her goodnight with a bit of half-hearted whining until she promised to resume play the next day. Once she’d logged off, Jungkook switched back to his screen and took a sip of his Americano, debating continuing without her anyway.

A moment later, he’d sighed and switched off the game, heading to bed.

—

The day Jungkook realised he wasn’t cut out for elaborate, story-telling games was the day he played A Way Out with Dilara.

She had told him about it in passing, mentioning that she’d also only played it once, years ago, before life had got in the way. Jungkook had been about to shut it down with glee right then but she’d seemed so mournful about never playing it again that he’d relented and bought the game, sending her an invite to login as well.

“It’s like I’m sixteen again,” she sniffed dramatically, making herself comfortable on her chair. The Red Bull logo on her oversized t-shirt came into full focus for a moment while she adjusted her camera, and Jungkook grinned in satisfaction.

“Well, you wouldn’t shut up about it so you basically forced me to buy it.”

“You know what? Even if that’s true, it’s going to be so worth it. This is the best game, JK,” she added, her face shining. “Emotional connections, moral conundrums, deep friendships…” She sighed and shook her head in wonder. “Just the best,” she repeated.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows at this display but said nothing. “Shall we start?” he asked.

“Yes. Okay, now, don’t worry about not getting the game initially,” she informed him. “I haven’t played it in forever either and I’m sure with the updates and everything, it’ll practically be a different game.

This, Jungkook supposed, was in response to a rather childish moment he’d had a couple of weeks prior where, amidst his inability to grasp the concept of the game, he’d sort of shrieked, yanked off his headphones and proceeded throw himself on the bed in the gaming room, face down for several minutes while Dilara called his name in irritation.

He scowled. “I’ll be fine. Will you?”

Dilara grinned sheepishly; she didn’t take well to losing either. “I’ll be okay. I’m Vince and you’re Leo?”

They commenced the game then. The story read more like a movie than a video game; Jungkook watched in awe as their characters, both in prison and holding a grudge against the same mobster, formed a begrudging alliance and escaped.

It was a gorgeous game; the screen, the special effects, the dialogue - he and Dilara read them out as quickly as possible, eager to move through the game.

“Oh, my God,” muttered Jungkook after a while, shaking his head slowly as Leo and Vincent, on the run from the law, made a campfire in the dead of night. “That’s why Vincent hates Harvey, too?”

“Harvey was an arsehole,” said Dilara with feeling. “There’s a reason Vincent wanted to partner with Leo, even if it meant he risked getting caught. There’s nothing like common hatred of a person to bring two people together.”

Jungkook stole a glance at her, which she caught.

“What?” she asked, chuckling and looking a bit embarrassed. “That’s the fun of these games. You have to really get into it.”

He smiled without meaning to. “I get it. He killed Vincent’s brother. Vincent gets to hate him.”

“Shut up. Ooh, look, it’s Leo’s story now.” They started reading the dialogue boxes together, Jungkook reading them out in slightly accented English, when a sound cut through the soft soundtrack.

“Helicopter!” Dilara yells. “It’s the cops! Okay, go left!”

“No, I think it’s right!” The screen changed as both characters ran through the wilderness, the animated figures running faster than Jungkook could ever hope to. “Okay, we have to get into that house, I think.”

Their characters took shelter in a hut, evading the police, and looting the place for clothes, weapons and a truck.

“It’s a car chase!” Jungkook exclaimed. “You should drive!”

“You know it’s not a real truck, right?” she called out, but still manoeuvring Vincent into the driver’s seat. “Okay, let’s go! Seatbelt on!”

“I thought you said it wasn’t real!”

“I didn’t stutter, JK!”

Jungkook snorted before getting back into character, his heart racing; if the cops caught them, they were back in prison, meaning the game was over.

“Cliff!”

“Get out of the car! There’s a rowboat! And go from behind the trees!” she added as the sounds of the police’s gunshots got louder. They hopped into a conveniently placed rowboat by the banks of a thrashing river and began steering with their controllers.

“Is that a - is that a waterfall?”

“Jump!”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes widened in a panic. “We don’t have life jackets!”

“It’s not a real river, JK!” Dilara yelled as she threw her character into the water, escaping a gunshot by a nanosecond. “Leo knows how to swim!”

Feeling his ears get hot, Jungkook obeyed and Leo jumped. The two characters somehow made it through the river and landed on the other side, the police finally no longer in sight.

“Whew.” Jungkook exhaled and takes off his headphones for a moment, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He put them back on to see Dilara grinning in the pop out screen.

“Great game, huh?”

“Holy shit. This is what you meant by emotional connection?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “Crazy. Oh, wait - Leo’s story.” He read the dialogue again, his own tone sounding more and more surprised. “Harvey betrayed Leo, too? What a jerk!”

“Villians,” was all Dilara said by way of explanation. “Oh, look! Aww…”

Jungkook followed an instruction to call home with a nearby telephone. “Leo has a wife and kid? What is this game?” he exclaimed. “This is like - like something that should be in the Oscars! Where are the machine guns and the aliens?”

“I can see your eyes tearing up, Jeon, so don’t give me that.”

He didn’t even bother defending himself; he was more engrossed in this fully human story than he ever had been in a video game before. He glanced at Dilara again, his stomach settling comfortably when he realised he wasn’t alone.

It was a flurry of activity after that: purchasing arms, being betrayed by the arms dealer, getting in touch with a mysterious pilot from Vincent’s past who offered to fly them to Mexico to escape. The pilot also dropped another bombshell.

“Vincent has a kid?”

“Vincent is having a kid,” she corrected him. “Okay, we have an option to go to the hospital. We’re going, right? No way is Vincent abandoning his daughter before she’s even born.”

“He’s not abandoning - okay, sure,” he said quickly, catching Dilara’s surprisingly troubled expression. “It could be a trap, though.”

But Dilara ignored him, and both characters headed to the hospital. Warning bells instantly went on in Jungkook;s head, for he’d played enough video games to know what a calm spell looked like before they got attacked. But he followed Dilara until Vincent met his newborn baby girl, Julie.

“I’ve never made it this far in this game,” murmured Dilara, her voice wobbling slightly. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like this was a slight overreaction over an animated baby, but something stopped him from commenting on it.

“Gwaenchanha?” he ventured, but at that moment, a pop-up appeared on the screen, informing them that the police had surrounded the hospital.

“Told you!” Jungkook exclaimed, but his heart raced with excitement. What a game.

“I’m not sorry!” she replied as they rushed out of the hospital. “I swear to God, JK, if you and Tae are ever running from the police and I’m in the hospital giving birth to his kid, you better make sure he’s there!”

“Er, sure thing,” he assured her, before changing the subject. “Okay, we have to split up.” With no indication either way, he went right while Vincent went left. He avoided the police as best he could while continuously keeping an eye on the split screen to see Dilara’s progress as well.

She escaped; Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief and took his eyes off his own screen for a moment too long to see Dilara pump her fist in the air - long enough to get captured.

“Shit!” He’d lost the game - swallowing his disappointment, for Dilara hadn’t yet, he urged her to continue. “Go! Keep going!”

“I can’t,” she muttered determinedly, turning Vincent around and going back into the hospital with his gun loaded. “We’re in this together, mate - if you lose, we both lose.”

Despite the tension, Jungkook felt his stomach flip in excitement: he loved playing with Dilara. She was competitive, she took risks and she was good at gaming. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who matched this well with him online; it was no surprise that he constantly looked forward to their next session.

“Okay, hold still -” Dilara frowned in concentration, aiming her gun - only two bullets left - at the cop who had Leo in a headlock. Her thumb swiped over the controller ever so slightly and shot the cop straight in the head.

“You saved me!” Jungkook gasped, immediately spurring his character on and out of that damn hospital.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” she muttered, although she looked relieved as well, a grin flashing across her face.

They escaped after that, taking up the pilot’s offer to take them to Mexico, where they were ambushed by the mobster Harvey and his men. There was the old school gaming face-off: guns, fire, jumping off buildings and eliminating NPCs left and right.

“Oh, my God,” said Jungkook in surprise. “We did it. We killed Harvey.” He looked up hopefully at Dilara. “Is that it? Does that mean we win?”

“I don’t know…” The game told them that now that Harvey was dead, they could return to the US but the moment they did, they were surrounded by the police again. “Oh, no…”

“No! Come on!” Jungkook whined, frustrated now, but something was wrong. He frowned as one of the policemen, took the gem they had stolen from Harvey from Leo’s hand and handed it to Vincent… along with his gun.

“Oh, no…”

“Wait…” Jungkook frowned. “Why did the cop just -” He squinted at the screen to read the dialogue box, even though Dilara was reading it out loud. “Is - is Vincent a cop?” His eyes darted to Dilara’s picture in the pop-out. “Are you undercover?”

“Shit, I had no idea,” she murmured. “I told you I’d never reached this far in the game before.”

His stomach churned. We’re in this together, she’d said. “I’m supposed to take you hostage now,” he stated, reading the instructions. Before she could shrug in acceptance, he subdued her and ran. It ensued in a chase again, but this time between Leo and Vincent, with Leo trying to run and Vincent trying to catch him.

It’s not real. Jungkook knew, he knew Dilara knew, and he knew the game was set up to be a certain way for the story. But it still stung, being betrayed, and before he knew it, he was being chased into a warehouse by Dilara, both of them injured and losing energy.

“Some game, Komyshan,” he muttered, sighing. He didn’t know how long they’d been playing; bonding over their shared hatred of Harvey felt like hours ago, as did each of them discovering they had kids. He chanced another look at Dilara on the pop–out and paused.

Her eyes were wet, tear tracks down her cheeks. He started, suddenly wondering if her sixteen-year-old self knew that she would have to betray her ally like this.

They climbed up the warehouse and onto the roof, both their energy packs beeping to indicate they were running out. There were their guns, bright and clear. This, Jungkook knew, was the end. One of them got the gun and shot the other, and the other died at the hands of a one-time ally.

She was still crying, even as her fingers flew over the buttons on the controller. Jungkook watched, as though in slow motion, as Vincent on screen dove for the gun and pointed it at Leo, shooting him, ending the game.

“What - what did you do?” Dilara frowned, looking taken aback. “You didn’t even go for your gun. Did - did you let me win?” she demanded, sounding horrified.

“No!” But didn’t he, though? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I - I didn’t see the gun,” he explained weakly. He fell silent as the epilogue appeared on screen.

“Vincent tells Linda about Leo’s death…” she read out, swallowing, “... and goes back to his wife and newborn daughter.” Dilara blinked rapidly.

“That’s a happy ending, right?” Jungkook murmured. “He didn’t have to abandon his daughter.”

Dilara was quiet for a moment. Then she chuckled softly, without humour, not looking away from the screen. “Jesus Christ, JK,” she sighed. “It’s not real. It's just a game.”

Jungkook nodded but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t seen Dilara ever break down in front of him like that, even though she’d held it together reasonably well. It stayed in his mind even as he went to bed at dawn, the image of her biting her lip while her eyes swam with tears at a fictional character leaving his wife and newborn at the hospital, and he privately came to a conclusion: he was not cut out for story-telling games.

—

The worst loss Jungkook had ever faced in a video game was the night he invited Taehyung to play.

He didn’t truthfully know what he’d been expecting when he’d invited the older member to join. All he remembered was that years before Dilara entered their lives, Taehyung had been the person who stayed up with him into the wee hours of the night when they were crippled with jet lag and played video games all night.

But it didn’t feel the same. Even the way the plan came to life felt… off. They were in a supermarket in Seoul, during a serendipitous week where their tour schedule and Dilara’s F1 calendar had somehow coincided to have all of them in the same location. A get-together had been planned which Hoseok had volunteered to host, with all seven members, Seokjin’s girlfriend Seulgi, Sooah, Chaeyoung and Dilara in attendance. All the members had been delegated by Namjoon, who seemed to be making a huge effort to gather everyone together, to bring different accompaniments for the night; in the gigantic mall, five out of seven members roamed around trying to fulfil their duties.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Dilara had been dispatched to purchase liquor and mixers. On their way to the store, Taehyung bumped into a friend and, after fondly introducing Dilara as his girlfriend, encouraged her and Jungkook to go on without him.

“How are you balancing this thing?” Jungkook asked tightly, as he tried to keep the cart he was standing from bumping into any of the aisles.

“It’s called steering,” she said knowledgeably, her much smaller frame somehow managing to manoeuvre the cart with ease, almost as if she were riding a manual scooter.

“Race you to the end?”

She grinned as they positioned their carts next to each other. “Remember, we buy what we break.”

“Good thing we can both afford it.” Jungkook winked at her, half-heartedly dodging her playful kick to his shin. “Ready?”

“Go!”

They were careful to keep quiet and not attract attention, staying at the back of the store where they were the only customers. They stifled their giggles while trying to maintain their balance and simultaneously sabotage the other.

“Careful, Lara,” he called to her as her cart wobbled slightly.

“Oi, you don’t get to call me that,” she admonished him, wincing and straightening her cart. “Something’s wrong with this cart, ugh…”

“Oh, yeah? Brake failure?” he taunted her. “You can’t blame everything on your engineers, you know?”

Dilara gasped as she turned her cart at the last minute to avoid hitting a standalone shelf of bottles. “How dare you, Jeon Jungkook. I’m going to kill -” She gasped again, out of his sight this time, followed by a soft oof! from someone else. Just as Jungkook spurred his cart on to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself, he heard the giggles - both of them.

“You’re not allowed to do that in here,” he heard Taehyung’s deep voice, and his heart sank unexpectedly. “You could be arrested for that, you know?”

Jungkook appeared just in time to see Taehyung tugging Dilara backwards to him, gripping both her wrists loosely in one hand. His head was tilted towards the side of her face while she smiled in a way that made Jungkook feel as though he’d walked in on something extremely private.

Fortunately, she caught sight of him and stepped away from Taehyung, albeit still staying close. “Alright, don’t we have stuff to buy?” she asked, changing the subject. “Who has the list?”

Jungkook and Taehyung both opened the group chat to check the list compiled in it, naming different liquors out of order. “Why don’t we split up?” Dilara suggested. “I’ll go to the wine section,” she volunteered, waving at both of them and disappearing behind the aisle, leaving both boys to scan the hard liquors.

“Whiskey, obviously,” stated Taehyung, picking up a bottle of Glen Fiddich and checking the price. “Probably the first bottle Hobi hyung will ever have in his house.”

Jungkook forced a chuckle. “True. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay long enough to see him at that stage of the night, though.”

“Oh, yeah? Got plans?” He raised his eyebrows mock-seriously. “Hot date tonight?”

Yeah, but it’s with your girlfriend. It was only a moment later when he looked up to see Taehyung frowning slightly at him that he realised he’d said the words out loud. “No, I just meant -” He let out another choked laugh, his heart jolting in panic. “We - well, she wanted to game tonight. We don’t have a schedule tomorrow, so…” He cleared his throat.

Taehyung paused for a moment, but then simply nodded. “I meant to ask you, Jungkook,” he said after a moment, now examining another bottle. “Is everything okay?”

“I - how do you mean?”

“I mean, like with you and me. Are you mad at me or something?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “N-no. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

Taehyung shrugged. “You’ve been a little short with me the last couple of days,” he remarked casually. “Did I do something?”

He shook his head, lost for words, for this was getting seriously out of hand. What was wrong with him? The tiredness from the tour was bound to catch up sometime but were his moods that erratic, that Taehyung could have misinterpreted them for hostility?

“No, you didn’t,” he answered honestly. “I’m just tired, I swear,” he added, throwing an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders and squeezing them. “Sorry, hyung.”

Taehyung nodded, seemingly a little surprised at this reaction. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Get some sleep tonight, maybe.”

“We’re gaming tonight, though,” he answered apologetically. “You know, you should join us,” he suggested, still reeling in the mild panic that Taehyung might think he was angry with him. “We used to game all the time, before. It’s been ages since we’ve done that.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure? Wait, do I still need to let you win?”

Jungkook scoffed, hugely relieved. “Don’t worry, Dilara has beaten me more than once so losing isn’t as shocking as it was before.”

Taehyung grinned and was about to respond when Hoseok appeared out of nowhere, looking distinctly unamused.

“Wasting time, are we?” Before either of them could respond, he slapped Jungkook lightly on the shoulder. “You - go get the beer. And you - wine. Now. Now,” he repeated when Taehyung opened his mouth to argue.

They exchanged a meaningful look and went their separate ways, Jungkook straight towards the fridges with the beer. After filling an entire cart with multiple six packs of different brands, he looked around for the others, finally spotting Namjoon in the middle of the store, typing on his phone.

“Hey. Got what we need?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook joined him and peered into the cart. “This is just beer. What about the rest?”

“Hoseok hyung was with Taehyung and Dilara getting that stuff…”

Hoseok joined them then. “Take me with you,” he stated to Namjoon, looking mildly traumatised.

Namjoon frowned. “What are you talking about? Have you guys got everything?” All three of them turned to see Taehyung and Dilara by the wines, seemingly in a serious conversation. “What’s going on over there?”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he began, “Taehyung is pretending to be a wine connoisseur giving a tour of his private winery to Dilara, a socialite who is trapped in a loveless marriage.”

Namjoon stared at him, evidently able to make neither head nor tail of this statement. “What?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. Like I said, please take me with you.”

Namjoon responded, but Jungkook barely heard him; he watched Taehyung and Dilara, standing apart but still close together, their hands brushing and their gazes fixed on each other, apparently having forgotten that they were not alone.

The party was supposed to start in three hours; they simply did not have time for this right now. “I’ll get them,” he volunteered, abandoning the older members with the cart of beer and striding over to the happy couple.

“Sorry, guys,” he muttered, stepping in between them, for that’s where the Pinot coincidentally was. “Namjoon hyung sent me - he’s getting really impatient.” He pretended not to notice Taehyung’s annoyed sigh or Dilara self-consciously fluffing out her hair.

Later that night, after a pleasant evening at Hoseok’s apartment, Jungkook settled into the gaming chair in his own, ready to play Trine. In light of Taehyung joining them, Jungkook put forward the one three-person game they had in their backlog, a medieval fantasy game with Zoya the Thief, Amadeus the Wizard, and Pontius the Knight, played by Dilara, Taehyung and Jungkook respectively.

Jungkook was determined to have this session go well. He wasn’t exactly sure why or what it was, but he felt as though he had something to prove to Taehyung, probably because he was the guest during their regular two-person gaming sessions.

Trine was different from A Way Out, mostly in the sense that while the latter was a human story of moral conflict and emotional connections, Trine was, in every sense of the word, a game. Three misfits having to free themselves of a magical curse, each with their own weapons and abilities - it was straightforward and promised to be fun.

Dilara, in Jungkook’s opinion, was made to play Zoya the Thief. Zoya’s skill was archery and with her excellent hand-eye coordination, Dilara shot every single arrow exactly where she was aiming, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Jungkook and his character, Pontius the Knight, watched in awe, his sword dangling uselessly at his side - until something appeared out of nowhere and hit him in the head.

“What was that?” he demanded, his eyes darting across the screen and groaning when he saw that Pontius’s energy level had dipped. Without thinking, he slashed his sword through the air, the animated flame at the end of it rising but causing no damage.

“Pay attention!” Taehyung - or Amadeus - had evidently thrown some kind of object at Pontius. As Jungkook watched, Amadeus conjured up another similar looking object, while Taehyung grinned in the pop-out screen. Begrudgingly, Jungkook had to admit that even Taehyung was made to play Amadeus the Wizard - quick, witty and wearing ridiculous robes.

“Oi!” Dilara’s voice rang through his headphones. “You both know we’re all on the same side, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes as they continued through the game, entering a ruined castle.

“Okay, here goes.” Taehyung cleared his throat as a dialogue by Amadeus appeared on the screen, and proceeded to read the entire thing in a gruff, grandiose sort of voice that Jungkook supposed he considered a wizard’s. Through the dramatics, he could hear Dilara laughing at the voice and when he glanced at the pop-up screen, saw her looking at something to her side, and it occurred to him for the first time that Taehyung and Dilara were sitting in the same room.

The thought annoyed him more than he expected. This wasn’t how gaming was supposed to be done. Gaming was different timezones, dead of night, coffee runs and straining eyes - not sitting ten feet apart in the same bedroom and giggling at inside jokes.

It didn’t get better as the night went on. The game went well; in fact, they were progressing at an alarming rate, finding objects, overcoming obstacles, gaining points and keeping their energy levels at an all-time high. All three of their characters seemingly worked well together, their powers in perfect tandem.

However, Jungkook was slowly starting to regret inviting Taehyung to play - not because he wasn’t good, but because it wasn’t right. There was a disturbance; he didn’t seem to understand Jungkook and Dilara’s normal trash talk, had a habit of making rather asinine observations in the graphics of the game that more often than not, ended up leading to a clue the other two had missed, and seemed to be more interested in the personality of all three characters than the actual quest.

Most frustratingly, Taehyung was beating the game - and the other players. He seemed to be able to come up with the most absurd solutions to problems - and all of them worked. During a play where they had to get at a clue that was sneakily tucked into the ceiling, Jungkook and Dilara were looking for ways to unlock a ladder that the game was offering them for a certain number of points.

“Do you have enough energy to break through the wall with your arrows?” Jungkook urged her.

“I can try…” Dilara aimed and Zoya shot an arrow which simply bounced against the wall. “I don’t think that’s the way. And I’m running out of arrows. There has to be another way to break down that wall.”

“Okay, well, the ladder is behind it. Maybe we can blow it up?”

“You’re the one with the flaming sword.”

“Maybe I can throw it at the wall or something… burn it down…” Jungkook searched the screen frantically, passing by Amadeus, who was using his power of conjuring to simply create cube-shaped objects. “Taehyung hyung? Some help?”

“Yeah, hang on just a sec…” Taehyung, seemingly ignoring their conundrum entirely, was now stacking the objects one above the other with a slight gap between the edges, levitating the ones at the top. “There,” he said, once they almost reached the ceiling. “Use those as steps and get to the top.”

Dilara gasped and Zoya immediately sprinted up the slanting tower of blocks, easily retrieving the clue from the ceiling. “It worked!” she exclaimed in wonder, the character jumping down gracefully. “My hero,” she said dramatically, looking out the side of her screen again, which Taehyung returned with a grin and a wink at her.

Jungkook poked his tongue into his cheek. “We have, like, seven more clues left,” he said stonily, but his words were drowned in the midst of their joking and laughing. This, right here, was the problem, he reflected: he, Jungkook, had the obvious goal, which was to collect the most points and win the damn game, whereas Taehyung’s primary objective seemed to be to make Dilara laugh, the game a mere secondary.

He wondered why Dilara wasn’t more annoyed, for she enjoyed winning just as much as he did. But she seemed equally excited at the prospect of a fellow player reading out the dialogues as though they were a script, inventing a voice for Zoya and changing her accent, getting immersed in the characters and the story along with Taehyung, with Jungkook having to remind them that time was running out.

“We’re going to lose,” he stated sullenly after a while, when it seemed unlikely that they would finish before their energy packs died.

“Not necessarily,” pointed out Dilara, moving Zoya through an empty corridor to look for the last clue - the Trine.

“Found it,” said Taehyung casually, as though he had just found his sock and not the Trine that would allow them to win the entire game. “Let’s go?”

“Yes - oh, my God!” Jungkook ran down the castle, making sure Zoya and Amadeus were both following Pontius, his heart racing with the familiar anticipation of possibly winning the game.

“Ah, my controller is stuck.” Taehyung clicked his tongue as the animated Amadeus slowed down without Taehyung speeding him along.

“What? Don’t you dare make us lose this, Tae!” Dilara threatened him, when they’d almost reached the final destination, where they could see the other two artifacts they must combine with the Trine.

“Wh - I can’t help this! Lara - catch!” Amadeus flung the Trine - the Trine - to Zoya, who lunged for it at the last moment, fumbled it and dropped it just as the timer ran out.

“No!” Jungkook dropped his controller and covered his mouth in horror. “No, no no!” He glared at the pop-out screen, vindicated to see Dilara glaring out the side of her screen before she stood up and disappeared from view, reappearing in Taehyung’s video.

“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered to Taehyung, who grabbed her hands to stop her from doing any damage. It was a few more seconds before Jungkook realised they had moved on from the momentary seriousness to mock-anger, until Taehyung tugged at their clasped hands playfully and she fell into his lap, giggling.

Jungkook watched, dumbfounded, until Taehyung, laughing, said into the speaker, “This was so much fun, really. I think I’ll head to bed now, though,” he added, as Dilara got off his lap and went to her own laptop, pulling on her headphones.

“Yeah?” Jungkook muttered. “No rematch?”

“We’ve been playing for three hours,” he remarked. “You want to play more?”

“I want to win. Dilara?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, I -” She bit her lip, apparently mulling. On the pop-out screen, Taehyung had already logged off. Jungkook stared at her, his stomach churning in premature disappointment as she looked at something off screen and visibly tried to hide a smile.

“Dilara?”

“Uh… I think I’m done for tonight, too. But let’s play Person 5 tomorrow, JK. Without Taehyung,” she added deliberately, Taehyung’s muffled protests audible in her background. “Had fun, though, love. Good night!”

Jungkook swallowed as the screen went dark. Had fun? Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever hear Dilara say that about a game she had lost, even though he had never seen her laugh this much while gaming before.

Still reeling from the loss, he went straight to his gaming menu and clicked on Real Racing. No characters, no story - just cars and speed. It was weird playing this game alone, but he needed this win right now.

Anything to not feel like a loser.

—

Sometime in the summer of that year when the group was in New York, wrapping up the America leg of the tour before starting in Europe, Dilara Komyshan DNF-ed a race.

Partly due to jetlag and partly due to the fact that it was pouring outside, almost all the members were in the suite where the race was being aired. Only Yoongi and Jimin weren’t there, the former because he was working and the latter because he was in the gym.

Jungkook had declined Jimin’s offer to work out together; he was tired, and there was the race. He would work out later, for sure. The rest of the members lounged about, doing various activities while the race played at low volume. It was beyond exciting, real-life cars going at a speed of three hundred kilometres an hour between the gorgeous mountains of Mugello, Italy.

Jungkook wished he were there; Italy had been one of his favourite countries to visit during the Red Bull collaboration last year. The views were incredible, the weather was summery, the air was pristine and the house they’d lived in had been so beautiful and rustic, with enough space outside for him and Dilara to work out together while she went through her extended break-up with Taehyung.

Jungkook sneaked a glance at the aforementioned member. Taehyung didn’t look like he was thinking about Italy last year at all; his gaze was fixed on the screen, biting his lip and tensing up every time Dilara’s car was shown on screen, as though he expected her to crash any second.

Therefore, when her car did touch another car and they both spun out, Jungkook flinched and Taehyung was on his feet instantly, eyes wide at the screen. It didn’t seem like a violent crash, but he stayed standing, the veins in his neck popping as he stared until Dilara climbed out of the car and took off her helmet.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, sighing hugely in relief and sitting back down, dropping his head in hands.

Jungkook frowned; of course he was glad Dilara was okay, but she was also disappointed, for sure. She had effectively lost the race - didn’t Taehyung care about that?

The rest of the race went by with far less interest from anyone in the suite, Dilara appearing briefly in the garage, having changed into jeans and a team t-shirt. From the sounds of it, the commentators seemed to agree that it was a “racing incident”, though caused by Dilara who had apparently attempted a very ambitious overtake that had gotten away from her.

Taehyung’s face was unreadable; he was flitting between looking at the screen and constantly checking his phone, most likely waiting for a text from Dilara. The race ended and the winners were celebrated, followed by post-race interviews where Dilara was asked about nothing but the crash.

“I did speak to Carlos as soon as we were out of the car,,” she said, nodding. looking a bit cornered with several mics being shoved at her. “We’ve sorted that out. It’s definitely really unfortunate about both our races; it wasn’t the intention and I wish we’d been able to continue, but at the same time…” She shrugged. “It was a gap, you know? What kind of a driver would I be if I didn’t take the opportunity?”

“Even if it was at the cost of a fellow driver?” asked a faceless journalist off screen.

“No - of course not.” Dilara frowned and shook her head. “Like I said, Carlos and I talked about it and I’m - I’m very sorry, obviously. But I tried to go for the gap and he tried to block it - we would’ve both done the same thing if the roles were reversed, I’m sure.” But she looked visibly rattled. The interview ended then and Lewis Hamilton appeared on screen for his interview.

Jungkook reached for his phone and typed out a text.

Jungkook [11:15] I saw the race. I’m sorry. Let me know if you want to get your mind off it. We can play anything you want :)

It didn’t take long for her response to arrive. Jungkook waited, recalling how this had genuinely helped her get over a bad race earlier in the year.

Dilara [11:20] Thanks, JK. Just don’t feel like it today though. Sorry.

As Jungkook read her message, once, twice, thrice, trying to process this and not feel disappointed, Taehyung’s phone buzzed on his lap.

He answered it immediately, jumping to his feet. “Hey,” he said softly, as he walked away towards the rooms. Jungkook stared after him as he nodded at the conversation, his voice growing quieter as he left the group, eventually going into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

A couple of hours later, after Jungkook had dragged himself to the gym and worked out harder than his body was technically allowing him, he sat at his laptop with a coffee, knowing he had only a little while before it was night in Austria.

Jungkook [14:40] Last chance? We can play Life Is Strange. Seeing me play a teenage girl might make you feel better. I’ll do the voice too.

Dilara [14:44] Haha. That might. Will have to take a raincheck though. Sorry.

Jungkook [14:45] No problem. Let me know if you want to talk or anything.

Dilara [14:46] I will. Thanks, JK. You’re a good friend. The best actually.

The message stayed in Jungkook’s mind the rest of the day, through rehearsal, soundcheck and the concert. The best. The best. He was her best friend. He’d cheered her up on a bad day, even if it was only on text, even if it was only for a moment.

Later that night, once everyone else was asleep but for some reason, he was still awake, Jungkook checked his phone. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find; it was the crack of dawn in Italy and almost the next night in Korea. The only people he knew were in remotely the same timezone as him were on this very floor of the hotel.

He turned to Jimin with whom he was sharing a room. After a long and borderline nauseating conversation with Sooah that Jungkook had accidentally walked in on, Jimin had finally gone to sleep and was now dead to the world. Jungkook reached for his laptop and opened it to Life Is Strange, connecting his headphones before the sound could disturb Jimin.

As it turned out, it was a good thing Dilara had declined taking part in this game for it didn’t seem to have a multi-player option at all. The single player was to assume the character of Max, a photography student in Arcadia Bay with the power to turn back time. It was the most cerebral game Jungkook had ever played; it was difficult, required concentration that was in short supply for Jungkook right now, and he found himself missing having a partner to solve the puzzles and quests with.

But Jungkook was a solo player, as was Max. He started feeling a kind of kinship with Max, who also seemed to be surrounded by people in her hometown and yet, played alone. The game began with Max experiencing a vision of a tornado during class that destroyed the town, following which, while stepping out to calm down, she witnessed a fellow student shoot another in the head and kill her.

Jungkook flinched at the gunshot, the sudden sound startling him, when he discovered Max’s new ability to rewind time. Upon going back in time to before the student - Nathan - shot the girl, Max saved her, a girl who was apparently Max’s childhood friend Chloe, now her partner in solving a series of mysterious deaths in the town of Arcadia Bay.

Jungkook imagined Dilara reading Chloe’s dialogue, even though Chloe wasn’t a player. Chloe had a very similar vibe to Dilara, he felt; they looked nothing alike, but there was a determination of a kind that Dilara had. Chloe was sensitive, asking for Max’s help to find out what happened to her missing friend Rachel, brave in her desire to fight the bad guys not afraid to cry when they discovered that Rachel was dead.

Jungkook sniffed but powered through; this was exactly the kind of game Dilara liked, with characters and story and human relationships and connections on screen. He got it now, now that it was Max and Chloe against the world. Best friends. He watched, played, went through every motion to keep them together, including going back in time to save Chloe’s father from dying in a car crash. When that alternate reality meant that Chloe was instead injured in the crash and paralyzed from the waist down, Jungkook didn’t hesitate: he went back in time once again, letting her father die and saving Chloe once again.

It was almost dawn when the game was coming to an end. Jungkook could tell the end was nearing because the timeline was meant to span less than a week, but he couldn’t tell where it was going. He frowned as the game took him, Max, to San Francisco for the opportunity to display her photo at an art gallery. It almost felt as though the game was getting away from him, for why had the story moved so far away from Arcadia Bay and from Chloe?

Max calls Chloe.

Jungkook read the dialogue, his heart skipping a beat, for here it was: the tornado, the one that Max had had a vision of hours ago at the beginning of the game, was here in Arcadia Bay, threatening to destroy everything and everyone.

The game took Max back to the moment she took the gallery photo and Jungkook swallowed, the lump in his throat painful as he and Max descended into a pit of alternate realities that existed as a result of them messing with time, only to come to the heartbreaking conclusion that it all began because Max had saved Chloe from being shot.

“No,” whispered Jungkook out loud, his voice breaking. This was why he hated story-telling games, he thought angrily, biting his lip and feeling his eyes fill up anyway. What was the point? You got attached to a character, to her best friend, to her family, and just when you thought you were making it, it imploded and forced you to choose between two equally important things, between freedom and the ally you made in prison, or between your best friend and your integrity.

What was he supposed to do now? Let the town be destroyed to save Chloe, a character who wasn’t even a player? That definitely wasn’t how the game was designed; he couldn’t imagine the programmers would consider that a win. No, if he had to win the game, he had to save the world. Save the cheerleader, save the world, Dilara had said, months ago. It always came down to saving the world.

Jungkook followed the instructions, his vision blurring as Max went back to Arcadia Bay while the storm approached, reuniting with Chloe when the moment of truth arrived. Jungkook’s finger hovered over the button on the controller, his face screwed up as he clicked on the option in the dialogue box.

He watched motionlessly as the animation exploded, the storm rolling in and destroying Arcadia Bay, the entire town razed to the ground. As the camera panned around the devastation, Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat and let the tears stream silently down his face as Chloe appeared amidst the ruins, alive and relieved. She and Max clasped hands and left Arcadia Bay together, leaving the wreckage behind them.

—

Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #type: series

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