#he looks sooooooooo cute and happy in it 😍 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simp47koreancrackheads · 11 months ago

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“nothing says ‘I have huge, sappy feelings for you’ better than sloppy birthday head, just saying.” Jjajajajajajajaja I mean is he wrong??? He’s also very much fed up with them🤣🤣🤣🤣

“It’s only March-” “-This entire year!” 🤣🤣Yes. Kim Seokjin being as dramatic and extra as he can be!!! LOVE TO SEE HIM HERE!!!😍😍😍😍

“Namjoon is in a happy relationship” HE IS ISNT HE🥹💜🥹💜💜💘🥹✨💘🥹💜✨💘🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

“There was also the fear that you would like one of them better, that he would become a stepping stone to your future, eternal happiness with someone else.” UGH Once again im cursing that asshole ex of his for leaving him like this 😠 scarred and afraid🥺 my baby😭

The part where he imagines his bday with her???? My god he knows her SO well. She’d do all of that!!😭😭💜💜

“no one had ever been excited for him like that before and he would think about how grateful he was to have you, celebrating him.” ��💔my heart moni. Do you give a single fuck about it??😭😭😭😭😭

“See?” Jin asked. “You’re not even listening to us because you’re too busy being moony-eyed after her!” Oh my god he just loves being right!!!😂😂😂

“-God, sorry I didn’t-” “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”“Sorry.” Ajajjajajajaajajajajajjajaja

“I like him.” 😭😭😭💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 one 😭step😭closer😭💜💜💜💜💜

“You know someone has to go first, right? Someone has to take the leap. If you both stand still... Nothing will change.” Hoping for dear god here that Namjoon gets some sense into both of them to freaking confess already!!!!!!! Jesus fucking Christ

you should know that everything from the pergola scene made me giggle, kick my feet in the air, silent-scream. Anything they do when they’re together is so fucking sweet so cute so endearing 😭💘 I didn’t put it here bc otherwise I’d just copy the entire thing😭😭😭 god I love these two SO MUCH😭💜

“I want to be happier,” I AM CRYING, JUST SO YOU KNOW

“You’re so-” he waved a hand and squinted into the air, looking for the right word. “Sexy... Yeah, sexy.” Jjajajajajajajajajaajaja I LOVE HIMMMMM (I’m sorry I keep repeating that!!! But I really do!!! I don’t have words!! Just!!! Love!!!! And lots of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!)

The presents😭😭 the drunk messages 😭😭😭 he liked the ugly one😭😭😭😭 ughhhhhhh he’s so precious 💜😭

God this chapter!! Loved it (as usual!!) 🫶🏼 I’m a little frustrated that they can’t seem to take the first step (even when they already act like a fucking couple!!!!!) but I also understand them. I too would be and am scared of a new relationship after a shit one. Even more if I already love where I am with them, bc there’s the fear of “what if I ruin it” “what if it changes” “what if somehow everything goes to shit” and so on. I just really wanna see them happy yknow? They went trough so much, my babies🥺🥺🥺💜💜💜💜

I’m sooooooooo happy to be back here aka my fav fic, my world, my people lmao. It’s always a roller coaster, I laugh. I swoon. I get mad. I cry. The whole thing💜. I’ve missed it!! Thank you soooo much for this chapter!! You’re amazing!!💜

me after reading this chapter:

Kintsugi 10

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.3k

Content: drinking drinking and more drinking! a fun callback to ch2 and a fun visit from someone (or someoneS) that fans of my other work might recognise...👀

A/N:

Thank you to @quarter-life-crisis2 for the beta!

Chapter Nine | Masterlist | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Ten - Impasse

“You don’t have dinner with Yoongi this week, right? Want to hang out tomorrow night?”

You swivelled your chair towards Taehyung and gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s his birthday party tomorrow.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake... Yeah, I remember.”

You were touched by how put out he was that you were busy and there was more than a little guilt there, too. If it had been anyone else, if it had been anything less than Yoongi’s birthday—his 30th at that—you would have cancelled without question. Lord knew Taehyung had done the same for you.

“You can come, if you want?” you offered. “Yoongi will 100% not mind at all.”

“Ugh, and third wheel you guys all night? No fucking thank you.”

“He might have cute friends? I’ve only met one of them, once, but he was very handsome.”

Taehyung shook his head. For all his insistence, when you were the broken-hearted one, that you should get back on the horse, he had been a little slow to do the same. You didn’t push him on it—hadn't been pushing him on it, but you were starting to think maybe a little pushing was what he needed. It was, after all, what he did to you and whilst he might not have been entirely right, he had had a point. It wasn’t like Taehyung to be backward about coming forwards; on a different day, in different circumstances, he might well have leapt at the chance to ‘third wheel’ you and Yoongi and prey on his cute, gay friends (assuming Yoongi had them).

You were going to push the issue, just a little, but he turned his attention back towards his monitor, and you took it as a sign to switch tack.

“I can come over after?”

“YES.”

His answer was immediate, emphatic, and enthusiastic. He turned back to you with wide eyes.

“Yes, come over for a debrief. Please. But can you please make it interesting? You owe me.”

“Define ‘interesting’.”

“Oh, I don’t know! Tell me there was a fight or you found me a date or you finally fucking told Yoongi how you feel.”

“Noooo,” you whined and tipped your head forward into your hands. You pretended to cry a little. Then you sighed. “Sometimes I think I can tell him; sometimes I want to tell him, but then I think about actually doing it and change my mind. It’s just-… It’s like you said; having a crush is fun! Do you know how weird and giddy I feel like, every time he texts me? I feel like I’m on drugs! It’s so cute and he’s so cute and I just want to eat him up whole, y’know? And it’s like that, it’s just like that until I think about us being together, or telling him how I feel, or trying to put these feelings into any kind of action. Then it’s like a fucking door slamming in my face. I want to tell him but I... I don’t know what comes next.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? What comes next is the relationship, being together, all that stuff you want.”

You squirmed. As fun and enjoyable as your crush on Yoongi was, that was how dreadful and anxiety-inducing the thought of being with him was. The same thing, in a way, and yet they produced such opposing reactions in you. You didn’t want to deal with that fear, with that uncertainty. You just wanted to stay in this sweet, little crush space forever and you told Taehyung as much.

“Do you, though? Forever? You think you can bear seeing him and not being with him forever?”

“No! Of course I can’t! But I... I’m not ready.”

It was the first time you had said it��out loud and to yourself. You weren’t ready. You didn’t know when you would be ready or what you needed to do to get there but you nodded to yourself, knowing you were right. You weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t cross that line.

“Are you sure? Because this party really would be a great opportunity for it. It’s his birthday, and nothing says ‘I have huge, sappy feelings for you’ better than sloppy birthday head, just saying.”

“Teddy!”

You gave him a sharp slap on the arm for that one.

“What? I’m right.”

“I am not going to do that,” you said through gritted teeth.

He merely shrugged and rolled his eyes, turning back to his monitor having lost interest.

“Suit yourself.”

“Happy birthday, bro!” Jin cried as he sat next to Yoongi and gave his back a slap.

“Thanks,” was Yoongi’s quiet reply as he picked up his chopsticks.

“Excited for your party?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Come on, it’s your birthday! It’ll be fun!”

He grunted noncommittally.

“You-know-who will be there,” Jin was cajoling in a sing-song voice.

“I know and I don’t know why you refer to her like that; she has a name and you know what it is.”

“Yes, but she remains a mystery to us all since none of us has ever met her, which is why we had to make you throw this party!”

“I don’t know why it matters.” Yoongi was mumbling because he’d had this conversation with them before. Too many times. So many times, in fact, that they had worn him down and he had agreed to throw this party, just so they could meet you.

“Because-” Jin slammed his hand down on the table for emphasis “-you have been moping around this entire year-”

“It’s only March-”

“-This entire year! Pining after her and we are sick of it. We’re going to judge her and see if she’s right for you and then we’re going to push you together and make you kiss like you’re Barbie and Ken.”

Yoongi scowled. This was exactly what he didn’t want. This was why he had, not entirely consciously but nevertheless had, been keeping you separate. He liked keeping you like a secret, just his, where no one could get you and no one could see him. His friends were bad enough as it was; he knew if they met you, they would become insufferable in their ‘encouragement’. There was also the fear that you would like one of them better, that he would become a stepping stone to your future, eternal happiness with someone else.

Not that he didn’t want you to be happy. He did. And you could definitely do worse than his friends, but the thought of having to see you around, with him (whichever him it was), and having to be happy about it made him feel sick.

“Who’s Barbie and Ken?” Yijeong asked, taking a seat opposite Yoongi and apologising for being late.

“Yoongi and his mystery woman,” Jin answered whilst Yoongi continued scowling.

“Oh shit yeah, she’s coming to the party, right?”

Yoongi nodded.

“You’ve got to tell her, dude,” Yijeong demanded with a mouthful of sashimi. “It’s the perfect opportunity! It’s your fucking birthday, bro!”

“I’m not telling her anything. There’s nothing to tell.”

Both of his friends scoffed and rolled their eyes.

“We’re not stupid, Yoongi. You’ve been a miserable cunt this year and we all thought it was because your granddad died and you had to go back to Daegu but thank god for Namjoon, because he told us everything.”

“Can’t believe you trust Namjoon over me.”

“Namjoon is in a happy relationship,” Yoongi reasoned.

“First of all, ow, rude. Second of all, I’m married,” Jin argued back.

“You’re getting divorced.”

“NO, she wants to divorce me and I have not agreed to it. Besides-” he said with a huge sweep of his hand, “-this is not about me. This is about you. And what has Namjoon told you to do?”

Namjoon had told Yoongi to do pretty much the exact same thing that Jin and Yijeong had told him to do: be honest. Confess. He wasn’t prepared to do that.

He had gone to Namjoon because Namjoon had somehow dug an incredibly fulfilling, loving relationship out of a disaster and he had been hoping there was some sort of secret to it, something that he could do that would get him over the hump without actually having to get over it.

He should have known better. Not only was Namjoon’s advice to be honest about his feelings, but the conversation had involved him saying things like ‘it got a lot worse before it got better’ and ‘it was kind of painful’ and ‘I really don’t think I’ve ever put myself out there more, to be honest’. Yoongi wasn’t up to that. As much as he felt like it was killing him to have you so close and yet so far, he couldn’t bring it home, couldn’t drag it across the line. There was too much at stake.

He let himself think about it, just once. On the eve of his birthday, lying in his bed, looking at the clock slowly edging towards midnight, he thought about what he wanted. No presents. He didn’t care about presents; he could buy what he wanted or needed. He wanted you. He wanted a relationship with you, a future with you. He wanted you, lying next to him in bed, counting down the minutes with him. He imagined you would be more excited than he was; you would make him wear a party hat and be ready with a party blower for the second the minute ticked over. He would pretend to be annoyed by it, because you found that just as much fun, but no one had ever been excited for him like that before and he would think about how grateful he was to have you, celebrating him.

He couldn’t imagine you sweeter or kinder than you were now. He couldn’t imagine having more fun than he did with you now. He imagined being happy, content, at peace: waking with you and going to sleep with you; cooking with you and curling up on the sofa; just being with you and being happy. He knew that you would make him happy because you already did. You made him feel a little softer, a little mellower, a little warmer. You made him want to be closer than he had been to anyone. He already was closer to you, really, than he had been with anyone; you had seen more sides of him, more honest parts of him, than anyone else. And you were still here.

But he knew that was as far as it went, as far as he would take it. You meant more to him than he dared to admit to anyone, than he could stand to admit to himself, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Not for a fantasy.

For one night, though, he did let himself imagine it. He indulged himself a little, let him think about what he might, in some parallel universe, be able to have.

“Earth to Yoongi.”

Yijeong waved his chopsticks in front of Yoongi’s face.

“See?” Jin asked. “You’re not even listening to us because you’re too busy being moony-eyed after her!”

“You’ve got to do something, bro. It’s your birthday. Get yourself a present and get yourself a girlfriend.”

“I’m not sure that’s really how it works,” Yoongi replied. “She’s not a present.”

“You know what I mean! Tell her how you feel and get it over with! It’ll be like a weight’s been lifted-”

“And then a heavier one slammed back down when she rejects me.”

“She’s not going to reject you, you fucking moron!” Jin leant across and stole the final piece of Yoongi’s dragon roll. “I’m taking this as payment for having to listen to you say something so stupid.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi had finished his food and was more than finished with this conversation. He didn’t want to think about this on his birthday. He just wanted to get through the day and make it to dinner (slightly unfortunate that Jin and Yijeong were coming to that, too, but maybe this way they’d have got this conversation out of their systems). “I’m not telling her anything and neither is anyone else.”

He was being unreasonable; he knew they were trying to be helpful, encouraging; he knew they were on his side. But he was anxious about the party, anxious about his feelings for you, anxious about trying not to anxious. He reminded himself of things he’d been learning lately, repeating little mantras to himself while Jin and Yijeong continued to speculate wildly on what would happen; he tuned them out and reminded himself that he could be happy, that he would be happy, regardless of what happened.

You shoved Yoongi’s present rather unceremoniously into your bag, took a deep breath and another shot for good luck before putting on your coat, opening your door, and braving the night.

It was foggy and cold enough for your breath to still cloud in front of you, making it feel far more wintery than you felt it had any right to. It gave the night an air of mystery, everything cloaked in silver, the approaching corner appearing as if from nowhere.

You’d have preferred a clear night, one with spring nipping at its heels, promising warmth and light and the end of winter. It would have given you your own spring in your step. As it was, you were wrapping your thin coat (you had thought it would be warm enough to leave your puffy coat at home) around you tightly, walking quicker, and blowing at your red, numbing fingers.

You were excited. It had been some time since you’d been to a party and you were looking forward to meeting Yoongi’s friends. There was an edge of apprehension to your excitement but you shook it off (the shots helped with that); you liked parties and you liked meeting new people and you were good at it and it was Yoongi’s birthday and he’d asked you to be there. It was all coming up Millhouse.

You just hoped what you were wearing was appropriate. It wasn’t until you were dressing that you realised you hadn’t asked about a dress code. You had heard of the bar where the party was being held and assumed the rest, but as you slipped on your little black dress (a classic, a failsafe), it occurred to you that you might be getting it very wrong.

Some panicked texts to Taehyung, some impatient replies back, a lot of selfies and wardrobe changes later, you had ended up back in the black dress. It was a nice dress, one that you felt confident in, one that San used to joke about not letting you wear because it was too sexy and he wouldn’t be able to fight off his competition. You wanted to look sexy tonight. You hadn’t dressed like this for Yoongi before, or around Yoongi. He hadn’t seen you like this, not really. You were, somewhere deep down there, hoping for a positive reaction.

You were stopped short at the entrance to the bar.

“Sorry, ma’am, there’s a private function tonight.”

“Uh, I, yeah, I know. I was invited.”

“Oh, can I have your name please?”

You gave the security guard your name and they checked a list and let you through. You left your bag and coat in a cloakroom to the left and entered the main space.

It was far busier than you had expected. How many friends did Yoongi have?! The room was full, all the sofas at the back and the booths along the side, too. You walked through the crowd, scanning for Yoongi, wondering how you would spot him through the sea of white shirts and black suit jackets. A familiar face appeared—not Yoongi, but Namjoon. You waved and he frowned, taking a second or two to recognise you. His face softened as he did and he waved you over.

“Hi!” you said, brighter than you probably should have been but so relieved to have found someone you knew.

“Hey, nice to see you again. You look very nice.”

“Thank you. I was worried it would be too much? Kind of didn’t really get a dress code from Yoongi.”

“That does not surprise me, but you look beautiful, don’t worry.”

You didn’t miss the kick at the ankle the woman next to Namjoon gave him. He apologised and introduced you both; it was his girlfriend, Suri. Of course.

“We met once when I was looking after Cherry,” he explained to her before turning back to you. “Do you want a drink? It’s a free bar so go crazy.”

“A free bar?! Fucking hell, how much money does one guy have?”

“Oh, they’re all fucking loaded,” Suri replied, “it’s kind of sickening. But also, the manager here definitely has a thing for Yoongi so I expect he got a very good deal.”

“Oh?”

You tried not to be interested, but a spark of jealousy ignited in you. Did Yoongi like the manager, too? Is that why he chose this place? Namjoon responded quickly and dispelled (most of) your worry.

“Oh, you say that about everyone,” he said, addressing his girlfriend.

“Yeah, because everyone has a thing for Yoongi! Don’t tell me that’s not true. People like him.”

‘And why shouldn’t they?’ you thought. Everyone should. Obviously. It was Yoongi—why wouldn’t they?

“I’m sure he only likes Yoongi as much as he likes anyone else, but even if he did have a crush, he has a business to run; he’s not going to make a loss because of it.”

‘I would,’ you couldn’t help thinking and were glad and extremely proud of yourself for managing not to say it.

“Says Mr Take-All-My-Money! You know you would, if it were me.”

Namjoon didn’t have a comeback to that and you were glad; you didn’t want to talk about other people having crushes on Yoongi. Your own crush was more than enough to deal with.

At the bar, Namjoon left you and you ordered a gin and tonic for yourself and one for Suri.

“Namjoon has told me I’m supposed to look after you,” she told you, matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if you actually need looking after because you seem more comfortable here than I am but, y’know, I’m here for you or something.”

You laughed.

“Namjoon seems like a really good guy.”

You could see her try to fight a smile, but she gave up quickly and it lit her face like a spotlight.

“Yeah, he’s pretty nice.”

You laughed again.

“Have you met Yoongi? I feel like you and he might get on quite well.”

She laughed this time and nodded.

“Yeah, he was actually the first one of Namjoon’s friends to give me a chance, so I’ve kind of got a soft spot for him. And I meant it when I said people like him; I don’t know, there’s something about him. He’s likable, right?”

You nodded and hummed your agreement. You didn’t prod, though your curiosity had been piqued about her history with Namjoon, because you knew if she was anything like Yoongi, you had to let her come to you; any pressure and she would clam up like an oyster.

“Do you know where Yoongi is? I’ve only just arrived but I haven’t seen him yet.”

She shrugged.

“Namjoon said my job is to look out for you and his job is to stop Yoongi hiding from everyone, so I expect he is hiding from everyone.”

That sounded like the Yoongi you knew.

“Yeah, I have to say, this is not really what I expected. To be honest, I didn’t really imagine he would be into parties at all, let alone throwing one for his birthday, and this is way more than I expected.”

“I don’t think he was given much choice. Even Namjoon was pestering him to do something; I think they wore him down and this ended up being the path of least resistance.”

“They made him have a party?”

“I only know what Namjoon tells me and he told me a while ago to keep this night free because they were trying to get Yoongi to throw a party. I said I didn’t think Yoongi liked parties and Namjoon said he doesn’t but that’s not the point.” She threw her hands in the air as if to say ‘hell if I know’ and shrugged.

“But these really are all Yoongi’s friends?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t expect him to have friends; you knew he had friends, you just hadn’t expected so many of them. He wasn’t exactly a people-person, not really, yet he had managed to get an entire bar-full of people to show for his birthday. Maybe she was right-- well, she was right; Yoongi was likable. It was just that he didn’t usually like that many people back.

She shrugged.

“I have no idea. I know a couple of them, because they’re friends with Namjoon, too, but most of them? I got nothing. I think Yoongi’s more popular than he thinks he is, though; people like him. I know I keep saying that. I don‘t mean it in a weird way; it’s just true. Wouldn’t surprise me if they all think they’re friends with Yoongi. Meanwhile, he probably doesn’t even realise they know his name.”

That sounded like Yoongi, too.

“You’re right. Yoongi’s great.”

It was you who couldn’t keep the grin off your face, now. You had to find him.

“I’m going to go and look for him, is that ok?”

“Yeah, do what you want! Do you want me to come, too?”

You were sure she did not want you to take her up on that offer and you didn’t need a hand-holder, so you declined and let her off-duty to go and find Namjoon. She was almost offensively relieved.

“Are you the mystery woman?”

A tall, broad man stopped you and peered closely at you.

“Uh, I don’t know?”

He asked your name and when you gave it, he cheered and called loudly for his friends.

“It’s you!” he cried, shaking you by the shoulder. “The guest of honour!”

“I’m... The guest of honour?”

“Do you know how long we’ve been waiting to meet you?” Another asked.

“I, um... Uh, no?”

Yoongi pushed between the two of them and looked at you, slightly panicked, a little apologetic. You were relieved to see him and to know that they were his friends and he was coming to rescue you from them... You assumed he was here to rescue anyway.

“Please ignore everything they’ve said to you.”

“Ah, Yoongi, we haven’t said anything!” the taller of the two exclaimed.

“Not yet!” chimed the other, with a performative wink.

“Should I know what is going on here?” you asked, feeling a little lost.

“We’ve heard so much about you, but Yoongi has been gatekeeping you from us.”

“Can you believe you’ve never met any of Yoongi’s friends before-”

“-Oh, well, I know Namjoon.”

They both turned to Yoongi and you couldn’t tell if the outrage on their faces was real or acted.

“What?!”

“Yoongi, what the fuck, man? You let Namjoon meet her? And not us?”

Yoongi looked pained.

“It was when I was in Daegu. It’s not like I planned it.”

He looked a little put out, a little pouty, his brows pulling together just slightly over his eyes. It was cute, seeing him be teased by people other than you, by people who knew him, by people who liked him. You decided you liked them already. You thrust your hand out to them and introduced yourself properly.

“Jin,” the taller of the two replied.

“Yijeong.”

“And you both... work with Yoongi?”

“Ah, I used to,” Jin answered. “Then I left the dark side.”

“I’m still on the dark side,” said Yijeong.

You made small talk, the four of you, for a little longer but there were knowing glances between Jin and Yijeong that made you feel self-conscious, like something else was happening, like you might unknowingly be the butt of a joke. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

You turned back at the door and could only see their backs, your view of Yoongi completely obscured and when you returned, Yoongi had disappeared again.

You made a few more trips to the bar in between trying to insert yourself into conversations. Most people were nice and welcoming and it was fine, but you weren’t at the party for them and Yoongi was still nowhere to be seen.

Deciding to give your feet a break, you perched at the end of a booth and finished your drink. It wasn’t long before Namjoon found you.

He almost walked right past you, but he did a double-take and turned.

“Are you ok?”

You nodded.

“Why are you on your own? Wher-”

“Suri’s just gone to the bar,” you lied, not wanting to get his girlfriend into trouble. You couldn’t really imagine Namjoon causing trouble, but you erred on the side of caution.

“Oh, ok, good. Are you ok, though? Are you having a good time? Have you seen Yoongi yet?”

“Yes, yes, and yes, though only briefly. I met Jin and Yijeong and he showed up. Then when I came back from the toilets, he had gone somewhere else.”

Namjoon sighed and gestured for you to shove up a little on the bench so he could sit next to you.

“I found him earlier on the roof,” he said, “so if you want to find him, I’d go there first.”

“Oh, thanks!”

You wanted then to go and find him immediately, but Namjoon had blocked you in. He was looking thoughtfully into his own glass and all you could do was wait for him to speak up.

“You and Yoongi are close, huh?” he asked eventually.

“Yep.”

“We didn’t really get a chance to talk much when we met before. I felt a little weird, to be honest; it felt strange meeting you in his apartment when he wasn’t there.”

“Yes! I felt the same.”

You laughed a little nervously and the nerves didn’t stop when Namjoon turned to look directly at you, his face serious.

“You’re important to him, you know that?”

You swallowed.

“Yes.”

He nodded and turned back to his glass, obviously still thinking.

“I feel like you want to say something,” you told him.

“I do, but I don’t think I should.”

“I say a lot of stuff I shouldn’t, if I’m honest,” you began, hoping you could just steamroll right over this conversation because you didn’t know where it was heading, but you wouldn’t stand up to an interrogation – you'd had too much to drink and lord knew Taehyung had heard enough about Yoongi, so you were dying for another outlet to talk about him. “It’s probably my number one skill, if you can call it a skill. The real trick is getting me to shut up, but no one’s figured that one out yet.” You let out yet more nervous laughter and ploughed on. “I don’t really know how to not say what’s in my head, y’know? I’ve been working on it, trying to keep my trap shut, trying to maintain an air of mystery if you will. I don’t think it’s going very well, to be honest. Not really in my nature...”

You began to peter out when you noticed Namjoon’s face change. He was frowning at first, not sure where you were going with your rambling, then he was listening, and now he was patiently, indulgently smiling at you.

“You are very sweet,” he said, interrupting you.

“Oh, uh, I, uh... ok?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You had been so busy working out how to keep on talking that you hadn’t expected him to say anything at all. Definitely not something like that.

“Uh, you have a girlfriend, right?”

Namjoon looked briefly horrified and immediately held his hands up in surrender.

“No, no! Oh no, I did not mean- I wasn’t-”

“Oh ok, n-”

“-No, no, no, I wasn’t trying to come on to you-”

“Yeah, of course, I-”

“-oh god, no, no. Yes! Yes, I have a girlfriend-”

“No, I know, I j-”

“-God, sorry I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You smiled at each other sheepishly, both embarrassed. Namjoon cleared his throat.

“I meant for Yoongi. You are sweet. I’m glad.”

He paused but you knew he hadn’t finished, so you just waited. All your practice with Yoongi paying off.

“I think you have been very good for him,” he said, slowly, evenly, still thinking out the sentence as he was saying it. “I don’t think anyone thought taking those baking classes was a good idea at the time, but we’re pretty unanimous now that we’re happy he did.”

Embarrassment burnt on your cheeks and you were grateful for the dim lighting. You bit the inside of your lip, not trusting yourself to speak. Namjoon was still considering you carefully and his gaze was watchful, penetrating; you felt as if he could see right through you. Maybe he could. Or maybe he didn’t need to; your feelings had always been bright and loud—you'd said it yourself. You usually wore your heart on your sleeve; perhaps you weren’t doing as good a job of hiding it as you thought.

“I know he is very happy you came tonight,” he continued, still slow, still thoughtful.

“I am happy to have come.”

In the beat that passed, before Namjoon could take his turn, you bit the bullet. It was on the tip of your tongue anyway; Namjoon would have got it out of you sooner or later (likely very much sooner).

“I like him.”

You wished Namjoon would stop looking at you like that.

“I mean, like... Like him,” you attempted to clarify, to prompt Namjoon into a useful response. “I have feelings for him.”

Namjoon didn’t attempt to hide his smile. He nodded, mostly to himself, and took a sip of his drink.

“That’s good,” was all he said.

“What does that mean? ‘That’s good’?”

“You know someone has to go first, right? Someone has to take the leap. If you both stand still... Nothing will change.”

You already wished you could eat back your words. Namjoon wasn’t Taehyung; he didn’t know everything. You couldn’t tell him everything, not here, not now. It was too much. You shouldn’t have said anything; it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that easy. You weren’t ready.

“I know,” he said, responding to you as if he had read your mind. “Taking the leap is scary. Horrible. Sometimes it goes horribly wrong.” He turned to scan the crowd (you assumed he was looking for Suri) then he looked back at you. “Sometimes it goes horribly wrong for a while before being incredibly right. Sometimes it takes a bit longer to get to where you want, but you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t start.”

“Did it go horribly with Suri?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“And now?”

“I’ve never been happier.”

You groaned. Much as you wanted them to be happy, that was not what you wanted to hear.

“It’s not really my place to get involved; I’m trying to not get involved... I didn’t say anything, ok? I haven’t said anything, but I’m just saying...”

He gestured to encourage you to complete his sentence. You didn’t want to.

“Please don’t tell Yoongi what I said,” you asked, pleading with your eyes, praying you could trust Namjoon.

“I’m not going to tell anyone anything,” he confirmed, “but I think you should tell him.”

You just shook your head. You were beginning to feel a little claustrophobic trapped in by him; you wanted some space, some air, a little time to clear your head, to maybe text Taehyung about what stupid thing you’d done now.

Suri saved you, popping up across the room and waving him over. He gave you a meaningful look and a pat on the shoulder as he stood to leave. As soon as he had gone, you stood, too, aiming for outside somewhere.

You headed immediately for the roof and stopped by the door, remembering that Namjoon had said this was probably where Yoongi was hiding. You had wanted air and five minutes’ peace, true, but five minutes with Yoongi would do better than that. You had you palm pressed against the door when an idea struck you. You fought your way back to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

You wondered if this was the manager or if he was even working that night. You looked at him closely; he had a nice enough face. Yoongi could do worse.

“Can I have two of your most expensive drink, please?”

“Cocktail or mixed drink? Or most expensive spirit? Or...?”

“Uh, spirit?”

“Sure... Do you want to know what that is?”

You shrugged.

“Whatever is fine, as long as it’s the most expensive.”

“... Ok then.”

You took the glasses back to the roof. You pushed open the door with your back and let out a little whistle as the cold, wet fog settled on your shoulders. You wished you had thought to bring your coat.

It was a cute little rooftop. They had a pergola in one corner; you imagined it festooned with fairy lights and crowded with summer drinkers; in the barren winter, it seemed a little lonesome, bare and standing naked like a lost tree. The view, you knew, would have been spectacular if the night had been clear but you could still make out some of the brightest lights from the tallest buildings dimly through the gloam. The building next door and its upper floor intruded into the roof space and you wandered around it, coming upon Yoongi, sitting in a folding chair, as far from the rooftop door as he could get.

“Hello, birthday boy. Found you.”

The look of resignation on his face melted into a smile when he saw it was you.

“Want some company?” you asked.

“Yours? Sure.”

Then he pulled out another folding chair and set it next to him.

“Are you just magicking these out of thin air or something?”

He grinned.

“Nah, Doyoung left the store cupboard open for me.”

“The manager? Apparently he has a thing for you.”

You said it without really meaning to; it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. Yoongi looked surprised.

“Really?”

You tried to shrug casually.

“Well, that’s what I heard. Supposedly you got a great rate on the free bar.”

He laughed.

“Well that’s the first I’ve heard of it. I’ll have to let him know.”

“You’re going to need it,” you said, handing him a glass. “This is the most expensive drink they have.”

Yoongi looked at you, searching, making sure, then he took the glass and shook his head with a tut.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it; don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And on my birthday and everything.”

You sat in the chair, clinked your glass against his and, against all your better judgement, took a sip of the drink. It burnt, much like the very first drink Yoongi had ever given you had burnt, and you gagged then shuddered. Yoongi interpreted this as a shiver (you were also cold) and was immediately shrugging his jacket off.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“You’re cold.”

“And so will you be if you take that off!”

“I’ve got more on than you; I’ll be fine.”

“No, I won’t have it.”

You allowed the alcohol to speak for you, tugging his jacket from his right arm, shuffling yourself in impossibly close to him and pulling the right half of his jacket around you. You were practically in his lap, but he was warm and he smelt like fresh powder and spice, and you had had exactly the right amount to drink to allow this but not so much that you couldn’t appreciate that it was happening. Yoongi was stiff beside you for a moment or two, but you felt him slowly relax, the tension leaving him as he settled in.

“Are you having fun at your party?” you asked, somewhat accusatory.

“I am now.”

“Yeah, didn’t really have you down as a big partier. You had me thinking I didn’t know you at all.”

Yoongi shook his head.

“I had my arm twisted.”

There was a Yoongi pause, as familiar to you now as your own rhythms of speech.

“When it came down to it,” he continued, “I knew that if I didn’t do something, they would take it upon themselves to do something and I knew I didn’t want to have to deal with whatever that would be. It was easier for me to do this in the end.”

“And are they all your friends? Because you know I’m a loser, right? I have literally two friends and there are like, two hundred people in there.”

He laughed again.

“No. Some of them are. A lot of them are people from work who overheard or got wind of the plans somehow; some of them are people I don’t even know—friends of friends or whatever. I don’t know.” He turned to you suddenly, concerned. “No one’s given you any kind of trouble, have they?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Good. I might not be a coke-snorting meathead but... the same cannot be said for everyone I work with and, unfortunately, plenty of them have made it tonight.”

“Ah of course, your finance bros.”

“They are not my bros. I don’t have ‘bros’.”

“I’ll tell Jin and Yijeong you said that. They’ll be devastated.”

Yoongi groaned but he was grinning, too, rolling his eyes with great affection.

“Please tell me you haven’t been talking to them.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Worried they’ll give out your state secrets?”

“I think you’ve got all of my state secrets by now. They would just love every chance to embarrass me in front of you.”

“That makes me feel truly honoured. I would love for you to be embarrassed in front of me. God knows I embarrass myself enough.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, his voice gone soft. “You’re never embarrassing.”

“I love you for saying that, but I hate you for lying to me.”

“I’m in a pretty sticky situation then.”

There was a pause. You continued to sip at your horrible drink and Yoongi continued to enjoy his.

“How are your thirties treating you so far? Feel any different?”

He shrugged and it made his jacket fall off your shoulder. You put it back and held it tight, leaning into the heat of Yoongi’s body next to you even further. You put your head on his shoulder and he just barely grazed your leg with the tips of his fingers.

“Yeah, I do actually,” he answered eventually.

“Good or bad?”

“Good. I think my thirties are going to be good. Or I hope they will be. I think I’m going to try.”

You felt like more was coming, so you let the silence fall again, luxuriating in your proximity to him and letting the high ABV of your awful drink continue to knock off all your edges, make you smooth and round and pliable.

“I started therapy,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost.

“Oh my god!”

You reared back so you could hug him fully, enveloping him completely and not letting go until he was tapping out.

“Babe! I’m so fucking proud of you! That’s amazing!”

He nodded, shy now, and took a sip of his drink.

“That’s fucking huge, Yoongi. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to! I’m so excited! How is it?”

He nodded again.

“Good, I think?”

“Do you like your therapist?”

This answer came quickly.

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “They ask too many questions.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, they do that.”

“But I...”

He was hesitating, unsure, and you were emboldened with booze so you slipped your hand into his and gave it a squeeze. He looked at you, face falling open to you, eyes wide, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I want to be happier,” he said and your heart could have burst.

You rested your head back on his shoulder.

“I’ll do my best.”

He squeezed your hand back.

“You can change therapists, by the way. If you really don’t like them. Or if something changes or you need something different. You can change. They don’t tell you that so I’m telling you. I’ve had like, five different ones at this point.”

“Do you like your current one?”

“Yeah.”

“She helps?”

“She really does.”

You felt him nod.

“Yeah, you said therapy helps and I thought maybe-… Maybe I can be helped.”

If you’d had even one more drink, you would probably have cried. Because you had been there. You knew how scary it was to take a step to help yourself—no matter how good you knew it would be, how healthy, how helpful, how grateful you would be for it in the future—and you knew that Yoongi needed it; there are some things only a stranger can help you see. It made you so happy to think of him, Bad Day Yoongi, stuck on the sofa Yoongi, tired, sad, Daegu Yoongi looking towards the future, a future he wanted to be around for. All of the worry you’d been carrying around for him, that you hadn’t been fully aware of until this moment, was dissipating, leaving you giddy and excited and a little drunker than you had been before.

You pulled back again and gave him another hug.

“I'm so fucking happy for you.”

“It’s hard.”

“Oh yeah, it’s fucking shit sometimes, but it’ll be worth it.”

You let him go and he tipped the last of his drink into his mouth—without grimacing, how? He leant over, readjusting his jacket on your shoulder and his face was so close to yours, you could smell the drink on his breath. Your eyes met and he didn’t move back and you didn’t want him to. You wanted him to close the gap, press forward just an inch or two and kiss you. You wondered what he would do if you kissed him. He wasn’t moving either. All he had to do was sit back, but he didn’t. Did he want it? Could you kiss him? Would h-

“Yoongi!”

You leapt apart as if electrified as Namjoon rounded the corner. He stopped when he saw you, mouth open, about to chastise Yoongi, no doubt, but no sound came out of him. You thought for a second that he would turn around and leave the two of you in peace.

No such luck.

“It’s cake time,” he said once his brain had caught up with his eyes. “Gotta come out of hiding.”

Yoongi looked at you. You looked at Yoongi. Then he looked at Namjoon.

“Alright, then,” he said with a sigh. “I’m coming.”

You all sang happy birthday and Yoongi blew out his candles and then was taken off somewhere by a group, led by Jin, crying something about ‘30 shots for 30 years’.

You also drank. Copiously. The adrenaline of almost kissing Yoongi and then not kissing Yoongi had made you shake and you needed something to take those edges off. You returned to the cloakroom for your phone, because you had to tell someone and you didn’t want it to be Namjoon. When you unlocked it, you had four missed calls from Teddy and a series of increasingly impatient texts.

[02:14] Teddy 🐻: bitch, I am coming to get you whether you’re ready or not. I'm fucking tired and I want to hear everything before I go to sleep

That was almost half an hour ago which meant he’d probably be showing up any minute now. You took your phone, and Yoongi’s presents (somewhat squished and not neatly wrapped), and went in search of him.

You had to fight your way through a ring of merry makers and peel Yoongi off the bar. You hoped he hadn’t really had 30 shots because you were pretty sure that could kill a man. You couldn’t quite tell if he was actually seeing you; he squinted and winked and blinked and looked even more ready for bed than you felt.

“Yoongi, I have to go!”

“Huh?”

“Teddy’s coming to pick me up. I’m leaving!”

“Oh no!”

He fell off his chair and was uprighted by a friend behind him.

“I’ll walk you out,” he mumbled, placing a tight grip on your arm as you staggered together towards the door.

“Happy birthday, baby,” you said, pulling him in for another hug.

You swayed and Yoongi’s weight was heavy on you and your stomach swooped (in a way that didn‘t not make you feel a little bit sick). You didn‘t want to let him go.

“I love you the most,” you said, as quietly as you could manage in the clamour of the bar.

He chuckled.

“I love you the most.”

The urge struck you, again, at that moment, to kiss him, just do it, get it over with, make something happen but as soon as it appeared, it was gone. You stepped back and remembered the present in your hands.

“Oh! Here.” You shoved it into his hands. “I got you something.”

“A present?”

“Yeah! A present.”

“I said to not to to get me something,” he mumbled, trying to stand still and trying to focus on the gift in front of him, trying not to spew when he flicked his gaze back to you.

“Did it anyway.” You shrugged. “Don’t open it here, though. When you get home.”

He saluted you and you snorted with laughter. Your phone was vibrating in your hand, no doubt a chivvying call from Taehyung, so you turned and walked to the door with a final wave.

“Wait!”

Yoongi stumbled closer to you.

“By the way,” he began and then he paused for so long, you weren’t sure he even remembered he had been speaking. “You are...” He was looking at you searchingly and you imagined it was the concentration it was taking to keep you in focus. “You’re the most beautiful person I've ever seen right now.”

A bubble rose to the surface of your heart and popped with a quiet ‘oh’. You had been hoping he would notice the dress. He liked the dress. That was good.

“Really?”

“You’re so-” he waved a hand and squinted into the air, looking for the right word. “Sexy... Yeah, sexy.”

He pointed at you and nodded once, firmly. You felt your whole body heat and a shy giggle trip off your lips. You wiggled your hips, sublimating your shyness and embarrassment with silliness. He wiggled back at you.

The door, which you had one hand on and were slightly leaning against, was pulled open and you fell with your full, drunken weight backwards on the person who’d opened it.

“Teddy!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said under his breath as he heaved you back to your feet. “Happy birthday,” he called to Yoongi as he dragged you, finally, through the door and out into the street. Yoongi waved.

“How fucking drunk are you? I thought Yoongi didn’t like parties; how are you this drunk?”

“We almost kissed!” you told him in a stage-whisper while he folded you into a taxi.

“Almost?”

“Yeah, only almost.”

“This is very disappointing.”

“I know.”

You yawned widely and threw your legs over his lap, cuddling into him.

“No sleeping, pretty girl. Not until we’re home.”

“Yeah, ok,” you replied, eyes already closed.

When you woke late the next morning, you had a selection of texts from Yoongi. The first was a photo of your presents.

You had intended to crochet him a mini-Cherry. You had done a little crochet when you were at university; a friend had taught you and you briefly caught the bug for it but that was years ago and you had had to go out and buy absolutely everything new and then waste hours of time watching youtube tutorials on how to do it.

They didn’t help and it hadn't gone well. To say the least. She was definitely a something, but a cat? You weren’t convinced. You had been so desperate in the end for something to present to him that you had asked your director, whom you knew was very crafty, to do one for you. Her version had been perfect.

You gave him both. You wanted him to have the ‘thought that counts’ one, the one you had put the effort into, but you also wanted him to have one that did not look like total shit.

In the photo, they lay side by side.

[05:07] Yoongi: Cherrrry?

[05:07] Yoongi: d you make then?

[05:08] Yoongi: this s my favutrite

It was a photo of your shit cat.

[05:09] Yoongi: I lvoe then

You had hoped that he would have opened them and laughed at your attempt, laughed but done it kindly, teasingly, with a fondness that made you heart glow. You had wanted him to open them in front of you so that he could have smiled at you and you could have kidded yourself that he understood all the things you were trying to tell him but couldn’t yet say. There was no way he could have, though, not in the state he had been in.

“Yeah,” Taehyung had said when you repeated this to him later. “Which is why, instead of giving him cryptic crocheted messages, you should actually just tell him.”

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads , @xyahrinx , @olyd , @diorh0seokie , @thelilbutifulthings

Chapter Nine | Masterlist | Chapter Eleven

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