#i did not internalize the same things as my white peers bc my reality was determined by me not looking white

[aito-mation]

i just think we should b governed by care for other people. but that would require acknowledging that there is a finite amt that any one person can know n that there will always b smth that contradicts ur worldview (and subsequently that You Will, at times, Be Wrong) which is an impossibility for white ppl under white supremacy. they refuse to acknowledge reality bc exposing the system makes it not run as well :/ what abt their ill gotten gains. what abt their brown baby killing factories :-(

[bangtaninink]

Hi Ary! This is going to be a long text but if you ever get inspired to write about barista!yoongi, do you think you could write one about him working in a hospital cafe, and always seeing med student/intern!OC with her team after ward rounds (because everyone in the hospital gets coffee after ward rounds), and he thinks she's really pretty but she always looks so serious when she's with her team?? but basically if you write this it will end me (no pressure love u) - whitecoat anon

Bit of background to my request - i’m a med student, just started working in the hospital and i always see the same baristas every morning after we finish ward rounds and head down to grab coffee! just thought it’d be really really cute (not that i have a crush on the baristas or anything but it’s just nice b/c they know everyone’s orders even if you’ve been on the team for like 2 days??) ok soz i will leave now, as always your writing is amazing and you are talented as FFF - whitecoat anon

Doctor, doctor (gimme the news)

a/n: this is super late, i’m sorry. but also, i loved this idea??? bc it’s kinda relatable (but not, bc i’m not a med student -- god do i wish though). all the best with your studies though, whitecoat anon!! (that’s the cutest sign off name ever though. bless.) ♡

“Incoming.”

Yoongi glances up from the magazine in his hands to watch a stream of people walk in, chattering amongst themselves as they all take their seats at the biggest table in the cafe.

“Must be the new interns Seokjin hyung was telling me about,” Namjoon says, smiling politely to the few that look in his direction.

“Interns?” Jeongguk asks.

“They’re like… doctors in training.”

“Ooh.”

“There’re so many of them,” Yoongi mumbles, looking on with awe. “Didn’t realise we had so many nerds in the country.”

“Careful,” Namjoon chuckles. “These people could save your life one day. Alright. Let’s look alive. Looks like they’ll be ordering in a bit.”

Jeongguk finishes arranging the display cabinet with the fresh batch of cakes and baked goods while Yoongi puts away his magazine, taking over from Namjoon who’s busy trying to rip open a new bag of coffee beans to refill the machine with. Namjoon smiles sheepishly, giving Yoongi a gentle pat on the shoulder before walking to the storeroom to grab a box of new paper cups and lids.

It’s an unspoken arrangement, the way Jeongguk automatically mans the register while Yoongi stays behind the espresso machine, grinding and pouring as needed, Namjoon staying clear away from any kind of service, lest his hands accidentally spill or drop anything ordered. It’s the way Yoongi likes it though, preferring Jeongguk to engage in the small talk with that boyish charm and charismatic smile of his, the younger being the best candidate to pull the staff away from the gruelling reality of hospital life, even for just a minute. Yoongi wholeheartedly believes that Jeongguk is the best kind of distraction that this cafe can offer this hospital, and has caught the younger venturing off to the paediatric ward on his lunch breaks to play with the children on multiple occasions already.

“_____?” Yoongi calls out, sliding the next coffee forward. You look up from the folder in your hand when your name is called, walking up to the counter. “Flat white with… two sugars…”

You tilt your head a little when the barista’s voice seems to trail off, but smile anyway and thank him, grabbing your coffee and walking back to the table to join the rest of your group.

Yoongi doesn’t even realise he’s staring because no one’s there to bring his attention back to coffee. He can hear a distant no, I’m not here for coffee. I just wanted to come and talk to you because you looked cute in your apron somewhere off to the side, but pays no mind to it, and misses the way a slight flush of pink colours Jeongguk’s cheeks at some intern’s persistent flirting.

(He later hears said intern’s name is Kim Taehyung, and Jeongguk is already head over heels for the aspiring paediatrician.)

But it’s the sound of toppling boxes that drags him back to reality and forces his attention to the back where Namjoon emerges from the storeroom, clipboard in hand as he shakes sugar out of his hair.

Four coffees and a hot chocolate later, Yoongi still can’t take his eyes away from you, sitting quietly at the end of the table, writing and sipping while the rest of the interns are deep in discussion. He wipes the steam nozzle with a damp cloth with barely a second thought, peering in between two stacks of coffee cups to watch you turn to the intern beside you, pointing down at the paperwork in front of you.

“Hyung, can I have a coffee?” Jeongguk asks, wiping his hands on his apron. Yoongi doesn’t respond, and just keeps on wiping the steam nozzle distractedly. “Hyung. Hyung.”

“What, Jeongguk?” Yoongi asks, clicking his tongue when the younger shakes his arm.

“I said, can I have a coffee?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Jeongguk watches Yoongi get back into his usual routine of tampering down ground coffee beans and frothing up milk with his usual expressionless face, but working long enough at the cafe has meant Jeongguk is a little better at reading the elder’s behaviour.

“What’s up, hyung?” he asks. “Something wrong?” Yoongi shakes his head, shrugging. “You seem… distracted.”

“Do I?” Yoongi returns, nonchalant as he hands Jeongguk his coffee. “Maybe I need a coffee too.” Jeongguk shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe.” Yoongi’s back to wiping the steam nozzle when the younger leans against the counter, drinking. “So, hey. The new interns seem pretty cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re a lot nicer than all the other staff that come in.”

“That’s because they’re still clueless to the horrors of a hospital, Guk-ah,” Yoongi chuckles, putting the cloth down and following suit, resting his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“No, I don’t mean like that. I mean they’re just… nicer.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes, suspicious, and looks over his shoulder at the table of interns before turning his attention back to Jeongguk.

“Don’t tell me you like one of them already.” Jeongguk sputters and puts his coffee down, straightening up as Yoongi watches with amusement.

“What’re you— I— I don’t like like him!”

“Yet,” Yoongi adds with another chuckle.

“I was just intrigued because he works in the paediatric ward, okay?” Yoongi nods slowly, looking smug.

“Which one?”

“The one next to the girl at the end. The one with the pinky-red hair.”

The both of them glance over the espresso machine at the interns, eyes drawn to the head of hair almost immediately. Yoongi lets out an unassuming hum, resisting the urge to shift his eyes to the intern beside him — you.

“The kids must love that hair,” Yoongi comments.

“Yeah. He said a couple of the girls braided his hair the other day and it took him and his friend _____ an hour to untangle it all,” Jeongguk replies, chuckling. Yoongi tries not to perk up too obviously at the sound of your name.

“_____?”

“Yeah, the girl next to him. They’re, like, childhood best friends or something. I think Taehyung — that’s the guy with the hair — said they met in the church choir or whatever.”

“What, she sings?”

“No, she’s their pianist. Like, a lowkey prodigy.” (Yoongi tries to keep his face as straight as possible after hearing this.)

“You got all this information in a two-minute conversation?” Yoongi asks, arching an eyebrow; Jeongguk shrugs, picking up his coffee again.

“He’s pretty much an open book.”

“The barista keeps looking at you.”

You’re halfway through your paperwork when Taehyung leans over to whisper in your ear, chuckling lowly when you look at him with confusion.

“The barista,” he repeats, nodding his head towards the front of the cafe. “He’s been sneaking glances through those paper cups for the last ten minutes.”

You lift your head and look forward, past the shoulder of the intern in front of you to where the barista is standing, talking to the cashier and who you’re assuming is the manager. You watch the barista ruffle his hair; it’s just a few shades lighter than Taehyung’s, and definitely not as bright.

“Why would he be looking at me?” you ask.

“Well, I dunno, hot stuff,” Taehyung laughs. “Maybe he was surprised by your weird coffee order.”

“Pfft. What’s weird about a flat white? If anyone has a weird coffee order, it’s you, Mr. Mocha-With-Caramel-Syrup-And-One-Sugar. How can you even drink that and not be a diabetic?”

��Great genetics, I guess,” he replies, shrugging. “But seriously. He keeps looking at you.”

“Maybe he’s looking at you and your hair.”

“No, he’s definitely looking at you. Jeongguk’s the one looking at me.”

“Who’s Jeongguk?”

“The cutie at the register.” You watch as Taehyung sighs wistfully, leaning forward and cradling his chin in his hand. “I’d love to tap that.”

(You consider it small miracle that you hadn’t decided to take a sip then. You would’ve definitely spat it out all over your work.)

“Taehyung, please,” you groan.

“Just telling the truth. I’m under Hippocratic Oath, you know.”

“How the hell are those two things related?” you say, trying desperately not to burst out laughing.

“No idea, but I know that I’m gonna get a piece of that cute-ass cashier. Mark my words.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn your attention back to the paperwork in front of you. Taehyung, however, seems to have other plans.

“_____. Let me borrow some money.”

“What now?” you groan.

“Well I need a reason to go back to the counter now, don’t I?”

“Hello again,” Jeongguk says, smiling amusedly. “Did you change your mind about the coffee?”

“Nope. I just missed you,” Taehyung replies, leaning against the counter. Jeongguk chuckles quietly, while Yoongi rolls his eyes from the other end.

“Can I get you something, Taehyung-sshi?”

“I’ll take a slice of the chocolate brownie and your phone number, thank you.” As he passes by, Namjoon whistles and laughs.

“Smooth,” he comments, walking back around the counter to disappear, once again, in the storeroom. Shaking his head and smiling, Jeongguk reaches for a pair of tongs and opens up the display cabinet.

“Hey, Jeongguk. What’s the barista’s name?” Taehyung asks.

“Hmm? Oh. That’s Yoongi hyung.”

Hearing his name, Yoongi looks up and turns to where Taehyung stands, pen still poised over his clipboard.

“Kim Taehyung, aspiring paediatrician,” Taehyung says, holding out his hand with a smile. Yoongi tucks his pen behind his ear and reaches out to shake his hand.

“Uh, Min Yoongi, barista and, uh… aspiring musician?” he replies.

“Ooh. Musician. How ‘bout you, Jeongguk? What’re you aspiring to be?”

“I…” Jeongguk straightens up, holding a brownie slice in between the tongs. “Have absolutely no goddamn clue.”

Yoongi snorts. Taehyung laughs.

“So. Min Yoongi. You taken?” Both Jeongguk and Yoongi freeze at Taehyung’s abruptness. “I’m asking for a friend. Don’t worry.”

“Um… no?” Yoongi replies.

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Yoongi clears his throat.

“Uh, no,” he repeats, careful not to inflect the end of his sentence. “No, I’m… not taken.”

“Interesting.” He’s not really sure why, but Yoongi feels nervous watching Taehyung’s eyes narrow a little as he nods his head. “Good to know. Anyway. What do I owe you, Jeongguk?”

“On the house,” Jeongguk declares. “Just… don’t tell Namjoon hyung.”

“You sure?” Jeongguk nods. “Well, thanks. _____’ll be glad to know she just saved some money.” Yoongi resists the urge to ask more at the mention of you, and just goes back to conducting inventory. Taehyung turns on his heels to leave.

“Wait!”

“Hmm?”

Frantic, Jeongguk looks around, grabbing a napkin and plucking the pen from Yoongi’s hand without warning.

“Here,” he says, holding the napkin out to Taehyung. Taehyung takes it, looks down at the black ink starting to bleed through, and grins.

As Taehyung walks back to the table, Yoongi pulls the pen out of Jeongguk’s hand, annoyed at the giddy look on the younger’s face.

“That brownie’s coming out of your pay, you brat.”

(“Good news,” Taehyung announces, dropping himself into the chair next to you. “The barista is single.”

It takes you a moment to register his words, but when it sinks it, you drop your pen, mortified.

“Taehyung. You didn’t.”

“His name is Min Yoongi and he’s a barista-slash-aspiring-musician. Brownie?”)

“Hey.” You put your folders down onto the counter, reaching into your pocket in search of money.

“Morning, _____,” Yoongi says, flashing you a little smile. “Uh, on your own today?”

“The rest of the group’re on their way. I think all my time in A&E has made me a little too quick on my feet. Taehyung had, like, three kids clinging to his legs when I passed by Paediatric too.”

Yoongi chuckles softly.

“You’re A&E?”

“Yup.”

“So you’ve probably got some crazy shifts, huh,” he says.

“Yeah. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for willingly choosing that department, when you’ve got wards like Maternity and Paediatric, but… I dunno. I guess I just live for a shit ton of work and adrenaline being piled onto me.” You smile when Yoongi snorts and shakes his head.

“You probably don’t get much time off then, huh. Compared to the other interns, I mean,” he says. “A&E’s probably a lot more demanding than, like, Palliative Care and stuff.”

“Yeah, me and the couple of guys wanting to get into surgery probably have it the worst,” you reply. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. We’re all suffering. Hospital internships are no joke. But I think I’m allowed to say I suffer just that little bit more.”

“I guess that’s why you always look so serious all the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time you come in here with the other interns, you’re nose is always, like, buried in paperwork, while… what’s his name… Taehyung? Taehyung seems to be having the time of his life flirting with our cashier, Jeongguk.”

With a hint of a grin on your lips, you lean forward and prop your elbow up on the counter, chin resting on your fist.

“Oh, so Taehyung was right. You have been sneaking glances over at me.” You watch Yoongi’s expression drop, mortified as he struggles to find a reply.

“Wh— n-no, I— that’s not—” he stammers, looking left and right and in every direction that isn’t right at you. Your shoulders begin to shake as you desperately try to hold back your laughter and fail, fist pressed to your lips in an attempt to muffle the sound. Yoongi’s cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. “Wait. T-that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine,” you say, reassuring him with a dismissive wave of your hand. “It’s good to know you’re not repelled by Resting Bitch Face.”

Dragging a hand down his face, Yoongi groans quietly.

“So fucking embarrassing. I’ve been hanging around Jeongguk and Namjoon too long.”

The last of your laughter trails off when your pocket starts to beep, and you pull your pager out just as a stream of interns begins to pour into the cafe, Taehyung and his disheveled hair included.

“You’d think, in this day and age, that pagers would be relics by now,” you say, studying the message on the little display before dropping it back into your pocket. “I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls.”

“Right,” Yoongi says, trying not to sound disappointed.

“I’ll just take my coffee to go, if that’s okay. Flat white, two sugars?”

“No problem.”

You leave your money on the counter as Yoongi walks to the end of the counter to the espresso machine, quick to make your coffee, knowing you need to leave. It’s as if you’ve just managed to pick your folders back up again when he’s back in front of you, holding your cup of coffee out towards you. You thank him and turn to walk out.

“_____, wait!” Yoongi calls out. You turn to look over your shoulder, mid-sip. “Your change.”

“Keep it,” you say, chuckling. “Consider it an incentive.” His eyebrows furrow with confusion.

“Incentive… for what?”

“To continue being unaffected by my RBF. Catch you later.”

“Aha. Busted.”

Yoongi swivels around, almost spitting out a mouthful of coffee as he looks at you, leaning against the front counter with a cheeky smile. He chuckles airily through his nose, putting his mug down as he swallows, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Jesus. I nearly choked just now,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs a paper cup — the largest size — ready to start on your coffee.

“That’s alright. I’m trained, remember?” you reply.

“Lucky me. The usual? Flat white, two sugars, right?”

“You remembered.” The abrasive hum of the grinder fills the air, the scent of freshly ground coffee pleasantly filling your nose. You sigh with contentment. “Maybe I should just hang out here for the rest of my internship. Coffee smells a lot better than disinfectant and hand sanitiser.” Yoongi chuckles, not looking up from the jug of milk in his hand, the whistle and hiss of the steam nozzle almost drowning out any other sound in the cafe.

“So. How were your rounds this morning?” he asks. “Any gruesome stories to tell me today?”

“No, unfortunately,” you reply with an exaggerated sigh. “An earlier shift means that more than half of the guys in my ward were still dead asleep when I got to their beds.”

“Not sure ‘dead’ is the best word to use when describing hospital patients, _____.” Yoongi glances up at you briefly, milk ready and poised to be poured into your cup; you look back at him, mortified.

“Shit.” You drag a hand down your face with a groan as he puts everything down, too busy laughing to concentrate on pouring properly. Behind you, the rest of the interns at your table look in your direction, interest piqued by the sudden raucous and the sight of you leaning over the counter to punch Yoongi in the arm. “Shut up. It was a figure of speech.”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping away the tears starting to form in his eyes with the pad of his thumb before getting back to work. “Probably the worst figure of speech someone in your position could use.”

“Shut up.”

The back storeroom door opens, and Jeongguk steps out, a giant cardboard box in his hands.

“Oh. Hey. I thought I heard you,” he says, smiling as he drops the box onto the back counter.

“Morning, Jeongguk. Feel free to not divulge any details about your date with Taehyung last night. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it all already. Twice.” Jeongguk laughs.

“Seokjin hyung told me about that emergency tracheotomy you did the other night. Nice work.”

“Oh yeah. That was a real adrenaline rush. I’ve never been more terrified of screwing up in my life. But he got moved from the ICU to general recovery a couple days ago so that’s a plus.”

Yoongi whistles appreciatively as he finishes securing the plastic lid over your coffee cup, saying, “impressive shit there, almost-doc.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, sliding over your money. “See you guys around.”

It’s just the sound of the register opening and shutting as Yoongi counts your money out (more out of habit than distrust at this point) and slides it into the till for a while, until Jeongguk decides to stop unpacking the new box of coffee cups to lean over and whisper in the elder’s ear.

“Asked her out yet, hyung?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Surprised, Yoongi turns his head towards the younger.

“What are you, nuts? I’m not gonna ask _____ out, you brat,” Yoongi hisses.

“Why not? You obviously like her.”

“I do not.”

“You so do,” Jeongguk argues, throwing his head back with hearty laughter. “It’s written all over your face, hyung. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you always say yes to Namjoon hyung every time he asks if you can do the morning shift these days.”

“Taking the morning shift means I have the rest of the day to do shit.”

Jeongguk hums, unconvinced.

“Not because _____ noona just happens to work the overnight and morning shifts.”

“No. And since when have you gotten close enough to _____ that you can start calling her noona?”

“Taehyung hyung said I could. But, fine. Whatever you say, hyung. Where do you want these to go?”

It’s routine by this point, the way you head straight to the cafe as soon as your rounds are done, not caring if you’re joined by the rest of the interns or not.

“Morni— woah.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, watching as you tiredly drop the pile of paperwork in your arms down onto the counter, sighing and running your fingers through your hair.

“Hey,” you mumble.

“You okay?” he asks, slowly reaching for a paper cup, making sure not to take his eyes away from you. You shrug in reply, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the front counter, hanging your head down as he gets to work on making your coffee.

Behind the espresso machine, Yoongi casts you worried glances, not used to seeing you so sullen and quiet. He can hear rattling and chaos behind him in the storeroom, a prompt I’m okay! called out by Jeongguk after the distinct sound of something shattering, but Yoongi barely notices, too distracted by the sight of you so distraught.

“Flat white with two su—”

“I lost a patient.”

He freezes completely, stops pushing the fresh cup of coffee across the counter to you, watching as you gnaw on your bottom lip, looking off to the side.

“I lost a patient,” you repeat, sounding so much more broken than you’d hoped, your voice unsteady and shaky. “I watched his blood pressure drop to almost nothing in a matter of minutes. H-he was only twelve, Yoongi. I watched a twelve year old boy die right in front of me, and I couldn’t do jack shit.” You let out a stuttered exhale, straightening up and scratching your temple. “That’s the first time that’s happened to me. I’m the first intern in the group to lose a patient.”

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that, _____,” Yoongi says.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Hey.” He reaches over to lay his hand over yours where it still rests on the counter. “You’ll be okay. Patients pass all the time, even after you’ve done everything you can.”

“I just… I didn’t think it’d happen three weeks into my internship.” You stare down at Yoongi’s hand on top of yours to distract yourself, trying hard not to become an emotional wreck in the middle of the cafe so early in the morning. “Like, I can’t help but think now if there was something I could’ve done, if I should’ve done something differently to have prevented it.”

“It’s just the way life is,” Yoongi replies, giving your fingers a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. “I’ve seen a lot of the staff come in here after they’ve lost patients too. It doesn’t get any easier. You just learn to accept fate. You know what always helps though?”

“What?”

“Coffee.”

Despite yourself, you find yourself letting out an airy chuckle, shaking your head as you rub the inner corner of your eye.

“Right,” you mumble, the smallest hints of a smile on your lips as you reach into your pocket to grab your money. Before you can find anything, Yoongi squeezes your hand and stops you.

“Don’t worry about it. Just take it easy, _____,” he says. You look up at him, eyes flicking down to the soft smile he flashes you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You nod in reply with no words left to say, picking up your paperwork and coffee and walking over to your usual table.

It isn’t long before the rest of the interns join you, their raucous chatter quieting down to almost silence when they all spot you, slouched in your seat, paperwork and drink untouched while you stare down at the chipped lacquer on the edges of the table. While everyone walks over to the counter to order their drinks, Taehyung detours and walks over to stand behind your chair and wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“How you holding up, squirt?” he says, rocking you gently from side to side. You smile a little, not taking your eyes off of the table as you reach up to pat the back of his hands.

“I’m alright, toots,” you reply. “Just gonna zone out for a little while.”

“You want anything else from the front?” You shake your head, your cheek squished up against the side of Taehyung’s head. He nods, and straightens up, giving your shoulders a squeeze before walking up to the counter.

“Hey, hyung,” Jeongguk says, greeting Taehyung with a small wave.

“Hey-a, Guk.”

“Hey, um… is _____ noona okay? Did something happen?”

“I think she will be,” Taehyung replies, looking over his shoulder. “She lost a patient this morning.”

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk gasps.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, I guess, what with her working in A&E and all. But she probably wasn’t expecting it to happen to her so early in the game, y’know?”

“What happened?”

“_____’s ward rounds are a bit different to the rest of ours. You know how, in the movies, it’s like a group of students following around the main doctor around to different patients and just observing how they interact with the patient and stuff? That’s how it is for me and the rest of the guys at the table. But with _____ being in A&E, she doesn’t really have that because Emergency doesn’t really have a structure like all the other wards do. And since she’s the only intern in A&E, she kinda just shadows the senior doctor over there. So it’s not really ‘ward rounds’ for her per se, but like, actual on-your-feet experience. Anyway. I think they said it was, like, seven-ish? Seven-thirty? A&E got a call about an incoming patient, a kid who was hit by a car on his way to school. A hit and run somewhere near Incheon. The kid came in and… God, he was just a mess, but she tried, she really tried to keep him here. They all did. But it wasn’t even ten minutes after his admission that he flatlined.”

Yoongi, who’d been standing off to the side, walks closer to where Jeongguk and Taehyung stand to listen, to get the answer to the question he didn’t dare ask you earlier when you’d been standing just a few feet away from him.

“Christ,” he mutters, looking over Taehyung’s shoulder where you sit, sipping at your coffee, which by now must be closer to cold than lukewarm. “That’s intense.” Jeongguk nods silently in agreement.

“Thank fuck she’s got the day off tomorrow,” Taehyung says, sighing quietly. Without instruction, Jeongguk reaches into the fridge beside the display cabinet, pulling out a bottle of orange juice to slide over to Taehyung. Taehyung, in return, slides over his money.

“Should we give her something to eat?” Jeongguk asks, looking first at Yoongi, then at Taehyung. “One of the brownies, or the custard tart, or a cooki—”

“Nah, I asked her already. She said she doesn’t want anything.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A distant beeping catches everyone’s attention, and they all turn and watch you pull your pager out, looking down at the display before picking up your paperwork and coffee and standing. There are looks of surprise and confusion from the interns, Jeongguk and Yoongi alike as they watch you head towards the doors.

Looking over your shoulder, you glance at Taehyung, Jeongguk, and Yoongi, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” you ask.

“Another emergency?” Taehyung asks. You can’t help but laugh.

“It’s the A&E, Tae. It’s always an emergency.”

Jeongguk is busy packing away everything in the cake cabinet while Yoongi is sweeping the floor when you walk back into the cafe, fatigue very clear in your body language.

“Sorry, we’re clo— oh.” Yoongi looks up, the broom still in his hand, watching as you pull out a chair and drop yourself into the seat, fortunately sans paperwork. With a sigh, you hang your head back and stare up at the ceiling.

“I’ll just be a sec,” you say. “I just need to sit down for a little bit.”

“Don’t be stupid. Stay as long as you want,” Jeongguk says, smiling over at you.

Resting the broom against the wall, Yoongi dusts off his hands on his apron, grabbing a bottle of water before Jeongguk can lock the fridge and walking over to you, setting the bottle down on the table in front of you.

“Oh. Thanks, Yoongi,” you say, sitting up properly and reaching for it.

“No problem. Figured this’d be better than a coffee.”

“Yeah. I considered cutting out coffee altogether, but I’m not sure I could survive this without it.”

“Taehyung says you’ve got the day off tomorrow,” Yoongi says, pulling out the chair next to you and taking a seat.

“Mmm. Thank god for that. But…” Taking a deep breath, you pause to take a sip of water, resting the bottle on your knee, leaving a ring of condensation on your pants. “I don’t really sleep that much so I don’t know what I’ll do the whole day.”

“Something as far away from hospital work as possible, please,” Yoongi chuckles; you smile in agreement.

“Hey, hyung. Isn’t it your day off tomorrow as well?” Jeongguk calls out from behind the counter, holding bags of coffee beans in each arm. He flashes a knowing look to Yoongi, discreetly nodding his head in your direction.

“It is, Jeongguk. Thanks for reminding me,” Yoongi replies, trying not to clench his teeth and strain his voice.

“Which hyung is coming in tomorrow to make the coffees then?”

“Well, I dunno, Jeongguk. Maybe you should check the roster in the back.”

“Right, yeah.” Yoongi all but glares in the younger’s direction when Jeongguk sends him a wink and a grin before disappearing into the storeroom.

“You have the day off too?” you ask, oblivious to the silent conversation that’d just taken place between them both, distractedly picking at the label on the water bottle. “Nice. What’re you gonna do with twenty-four hours of freedom?”

“Dunno. Might sleep for about half that time, eat something, and probably spend the rest of the day chillin’ with my bae.”

You arch an eyebrow, the lip of the bottle inches away from your lips.

“Your bae?” you repeat.

“My piano,” Yoongi chuckles. “That’s the closest I’m gonna get to a relationship anytime soon, I think.”

“Oh.” You find yourself chuckling, and somewhat confused by the relief that’s washing over you. “Cute.”

“It’s not, really.” He reaches up and ruffles his hair, locks of faded pink moving in all directions. “I mean, how many grown men do you know call a musical instrument their first love?”

“Well, I dunno about instruments, but Taehyung has this elephant plush toy that he swears convinced him that love at first sight exists back when he was six.” Yoongi snorts and shakes his head.

The both of you watch silently as Jeongguk rounds the counter and makes his way around the floor, wiping down the tables before stacking the chairs on top of them. As he makes his way closer to your table, it dawns on you that you’ll need to stand and, eventually, leave the cafe to let them finish cleaning up.

“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn away from Jeongguk to look at him. “Um, are you done for today?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “I finished kinda early actually. I’m just killing the next five minutes so I can clock off.” You pick at the label on the bottle again, biting the inside of your cheek, mustering up the courage to ask, “why?”

“I, uh… I was wondering if… you wanted to grab some dinner. Tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just… I figured, since we both have the day off tomorrow, we could have dinner tonight and not have to worry about going home early because of work the next day or… whatever.” Realising what he’d said, Yoongi turns to you, eyes wide. “Oh God. That came out wrong. I-I don’t mean—”

You throw your head back and laugh, drawing Jeongguk’s attention to the both of you; Jeongguk laughs quietly to himself, watching Yoongi drag his hand down his face and ruffle his hair again.

“No, yeah, I…” You drag your knuckle against the corner of your eye. “I’d like that. Taehyung’s going out on another date with Jeongguk tonight, so… yeah. It beats another night in the apartment on my own eating instant noodles and crying over some lame anime that I never really wanted to watch in the first place.”

“Taehyung?”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing. Jeongguk is the exact same.”

“Well. If you’re ever in the mood to switch roommates… you know who to call first.”

You and Yoongi laugh quietly, letting it trail off naturally as Jeongguk approaches the table, hands planted on the remaining free chair.

“I hate to interrupt,” he says, grinning. “But we’re closing now, miss. I’m afraid you’ll have to vacate the premises.” Snorting and rolling your eyes, you stand, fingers wrapped around your bottle of water.

“Right. Oh, uh, before I forget, Taehyung said something about meeting up at some dog cafe instead of the apartment for you guys’ date tonight. I think he’s gonna text you the address later.” Jeongguk sighs wistfully.

“A dog cafe. A man after my own heart.”

“Eww,” you and Yoongi say simultaneously.

“Shut up.”

“I’m gonna go clock off,” you say, shaking your head at Jeongguk before looking at Yoongi. “I’ll, uh, meet you outside?”

“Sounds good. Give me, like, twenty minutes to finish up here and I’ll catch up with you,” Yoongi replies, nodding his head.

True to his word, Yoongi steps out of the hospital twenty minutes later — eighteen, to be exact; but who’s counting? — stained black apron replaced with an olive green bomber jacket, one strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. In a similar fashion, you’ve forgone your white coat for a sweater and scarf, tucking your phone into the pocket of your jeans as you wave your hand to catch his attention.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Yoongi says. “Did you have a ride, or…”

“Oh. Oh. Crap, no I don’t,” you say, expression falling. “Me and Tae usually come together, but he’s taking the car for his date with Jeongguk tonight. Shit. I didn’t think of that.”

“That’s fine. You can catch a ride with me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just, uh…” Yoongi’s eyes shift left and right warily as he scratches the top of his head and clears his throat.

“What?” you ask, a little confused.

“Just… here. I’ll show you.”

Following behind him, he leads you to the carpark, weaving through the different lanes to eventually stop at the back of the lot.

“This okay?”

For a moment, you stand there, speechless, looking with wide eyes at the slightly scuffed black leather seat, and worn tires of Yoongi’s…

“Motorbike,” you say, eloquent as ever.

“Yeah. Uh, I just remembered what I came to work in when I was grabbing my stuff out of my locker.” He clears his throat again, reaching into his bag to pull out his helmet. “If you don’t wanna ride, it’s totally chill, _____. I can call Jeongguk, get him to ride this home, and we can catch a taxi or something.”

“No, this… this is fine,” you say with a soft exasperated chuckle to your words.

“Have you ever been on a bike before?” You shake your head. “Oh. Well. Um.”

“There’s a first for everything though, right? I can handle some early morning trauma in A&E. How bad could a bike ride be?”

Yoongi chuckles quietly, and nods in agreement, lifting the seat of his motorbike to pull out a spare helmet to hand to you, shoving his bag in roughly before shutting the seat.

“You’re, uh… gonna have to keep your bag on. The seat’s not big enough for all our stuff, unfortunately.”

“That’s alright.”

“Sorry. I didn’t really think things through before asking you out to dinner tonight,” Yoongi says, biting on his lip nervously.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I prefer spontaneity anyways.”

“Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he mutters.

“Next time?”

Yoongi clears his throat yet again, looking away from you to pat down his jacket and jeans in search of his keys and preoccupying himself with anything that isn’t related to looking you right in the face. You grin and busy yourself with undoing the buckle of the spare helmet in your hands.

“W-what do you feel like eating?” Yoongi asks you, sliding his helmet on and hoisting his leg over the bike to straddle it, inserting the key into the ignition without turning the bike on just yet. You shrug in reply, resting the spare helmet on the back of the bike to free up your hands and tie your hair back.

“Whatever you feel like. I’m not a fussy eater like Tae,” you say, words mumbled around your hairtie held between your teeth. Yoongi leans a little towards you, pointing to the side of his helmet to indicate that he can’t hear you properly. You reply with a, “anywhere’s fine,” raising your voice a little more. He nods in acknowledgement and turns the key.

The motorbike roars to life and you flinch a little at the sound. You don’t hear Yoongi’s chuckle, but you see the way his shoulders shake slightly in amusement before you’re sliding the helmet onto your head. Holding his shoulder, you swing your leg over the bike to sit down behind him, his hand coming up to hold onto your wrist when he feels you wobble slightly.

“_____!” he calls out.

“Yeah?”

“You, uh, you need to hold on.”

“What?” you ask, leaning forward to hear him better, the front of your helmet knocking against the back of his. Instead of raising his voice and repeating himself, however, he reaches behind to find your arms, guiding them until they’re wrapped around his waist. He gives your wrists a gentle squeeze, and you take the cue to hold on — tight. Yoongi throws you a thumbs up over his shoulder; you reply with a nod.

You gasp, barely audible, when Yoongi revs the engine, grasp instantly tightening when he kicks off the ground and starts to move, fingers holding onto his jacket.

Behind his helmet, Yoongi smiles at the warmth of your chest against his back, and the almost-death grip around his waist.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks as he helps you off the motorbike, trying not to grin at the way you let out a sigh of relief when your feet touch the ground. You hum and nod your head in reply, undoing the buckle beneath your chin and pulling the helmet off, yanking out your hairtie to fix your hair.

“That was… new,” you say, pausing when Yoongi reaches up to fix a lock of your hair. “But I could get used to that. Maybe. Hopefully.”

He laughs a little, taking the helmet from your hands to put it back under the seat after pulling his bag out, shoving his own helmet into it.

“I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

You stop fixing your hair for a moment to turn and look up at the neon lights of the restaurant signage, taking a deep breath in and exhaling with a happy hum as the smell of grilling meat hits you immediately.

“I am most definitely not a vegetarian,” you reply, grinning.

“This is my brother’s restaurant,” he explains, leading you inside, the scent of cooked meats and vegetables increasing tenfold as soon as you’ve stepped through the doors. “As if it isn’t bad enough that I’m on my feet all day, every time he sees me walk in, he gets me to work in exchange for free food. I’m hoping with you here that doesn’t happen.”

“No family benefits?”

“Well, you’d think I’d get some, right?”

“Well, well. Good evening, young master. Come to pay your debts?”

The both of you turn to come face to face with a man wiping his hands on a towel, hair a dull shade of blue, multiple piercings on both ears, and a cheeky grin painted on his lips.

“Nope. I have a ‘get out of jail free’ card tonight, hyung,” Yoongi answers, wiggling his eyebrows. “This is _____.” The man’s eyes shifts to you before shifting back to Yoongi, slightly narrowed.

“You win this time, you brat. But you’ll be on dishes next time. Your usual table’s free.”

Yoongi groans, but you can see him holding back a smile as he leads you over to the back corner of the restaurant after you bow your head politely.

“That… was your brother?” you ask, taking a seat and dropping your bag down beside you.

“Yeah, that was Yoonjae hyung,” Yoongi replies, following suit. “I’m actually surprised he’s only gonna put me on dishes.”

“Is that bad?”

“Nah. Bad is toilet duties. Have you ever cleaned a toilet after midnight after a busy day in a barbecue restaurant? The things I’ve seen in there could probably rival the things you see in A&E.” You snort.

“That’s a stretch.”

“Okay, yeah. True. But you know what I mean.”

Shaking your head, you laugh as you reach for the menu beside you, eyes scanning the various cuts of meat and side dishes on offer. Everything looks amazing and enticing, and you’re salivating before the grill’s even been ignited.

“So. What’ll it be, kids?” Yoonjae asks, approaching the table with a small notepad in his hand, grabbing his pen from where it’s tucked behind his ear.

“I’ll have the usual,” Yoongi answers. “I dunno what _____ wants.”

“What’s ‘the usual’?” you ask.

“A serve of dumplings, some steak, pork belly, kimchi hot pot, and rice.”

“That’s all for one person?”

“It’s supposed to be for two, but I mean, I don’t know when I’m gonna be eating next, so… while I’m here…”

“Interesting. I’ll get the same.”

Yoonjae stops writing to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You know what?” he says, tucking his pen back behind his ear. “I like you already.”

“I hope that means I get to avoid doing the dishes with Yoongi,” you laugh.

“We’ll see.”

“Wait. What?”

“Hold up. Wait. Jimin, come back.”

“What’s up, hyung?” the waiter asks, his tray tucked under his arm.

“We didn’t order this,” Yoongi says, pointing to the basket of fried chicken.

“Oh, I know. But Yoonjae hyung said to bring it over to you guys. He said something about wanting to see if you and your new girlfriend can finish everything.” You feel your mouthful of soup start to trickle down the wrong pipe, and you drop your spoon and cover your mouth, trying not to cough too loud, because girlfriend? The waiter, however, seems to be unphased. “I’m Jimin by the way! Family friend of the Mins.”

“I’m…” You pause to clear your throat a few times, hand pressed to your chest. “I’m _____.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“Jimin? Can you leave so we can eat?” Yoongi says, jaw clenched as he glares in the waiter’s direction.

“Right! Yeah, sure. Just yell out if you guys need anything.”

You watch as Jimin walks off to tend to another table with a friendly smile, seemingly completely unaware of how confused you are, and of how mortified Yoongi is.

“Sorry about him,” Yoongi says quietly, quick to shove a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“He’s very… cheery,” you say, chuckling a little as you turn your attention back to the food. “Like, very cheery.”

“I know. I swear nothing gets that brat down.” He reaches for the tongs, flipping the meat on the grill. “I mean, he’s a cool kid, but damn.”

“Yoongi. Eat that last one.”

“I would if I could, but, _____, I can’t. You have it.”

With a groan, you sit up again, elbows resting on the table as you stare down the last chicken wing in the basket. You pick it up, but hesitate to bring it to your mouth. Across the table, Yoongi lifts his hand and curls his fingers into a loose fist, pumping it in the air weakly in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you curse quietly before taking a bite.

It takes you a ridiculously long time to finish off the last chicken wing, and when you drop the bones onto your plate, you are well and truly done.

“Well. Consider me impressed,” Yoonjae says, taking a chair from a nearby table to sit with you both. “You have officially avoided dish duty.”

“What about me, hyung?” Yoongi asks.

“I haven’t decided about you yet.” Yoongi sighs and leans back in his seat. “So. _____, right? What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, I’m a med student. I’m interning at the hospital at the moment,” you reply, reaching for your glass of water.

“Holy shit. You’re a doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Yet,” Yoonjae repeats, laughing. “Which part of the hospital do you work in?”

“Accident and emergency.”

“Damn. That must be full on.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

“How’d you score an almost-doctor, you brat?” Yoonjae asks, grinning as he reaches over to punch Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi flinches and groans, rubbing his bicep.

“We work at the same hospital, hyung,” he mumbles, frowning.

“Oh, right! Yeah. Barista. How’s that gig going, by the way?”

“Same as always I guess. I have yet to hear any juicy stories from _____ over here.” You snort, reaching for your glass of water to take a sip. “You’d think working in A&E she’d have a million and one stories to tell me while I make her morning coffee. But, nope. Not a damn one, hyung.”

“What a fucking shame,” Yoonjae sighs, shaking his head. “I’m so disappointed in you, _____.”

“Disappointed enough to put her on dishes with me, hyung?”

“Hey!” you cry out, chuckling a little.

“Nah, I can’t put her on dishes, man. She might have to save your ass one day after you fall off that   goddamn bike of yours. Seriously, Yoongi. When’re you gonna get rid of that thing? I swear to God, mom has a heart attack every time you roll up for lunch on Sunday.”

“That’s like asking me to give away my own child. How dare you, hyung?”

Yoonjae rolls his eyes and stands, putting the chair back to its original table before resting his hand on your shoulder consolingly.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, _____.”

After dinner, Yoongi decides to leave his bike parked at his brother’s restaurant for a little while in favour of walking around the area with you aimlessly, walking down streets and alleyways as conversation bounces from favourite classical composers all the way down to basketball dream teams. Yoongi laughs as you tell him about the time Taehyung broke his arm after falling off his bicycle when he was distracted by your neighbour’s new puppy, and you almost trip over your own foot when you’re busy wiping your eyes after Yoongi tells you about the day he’d almost walked in on his parents have sex, only saved by his brother who’d pulled him away from the door and forced him back into his room.

The both of you eventually end up at a small cafe, wedged in between a karaoke bar and another barbecue restaurant. It’s warm inside, and you’re instantly hit with the smell of freshly ground coffee as soon as you step in, unwrapping the scarf around your neck.

The cashier greets you both as you step up to the counter, giving you both a moment to decide on your orders.

“I’ll have a latte, thank you,” you say, reaching into your bag for your wallet. Yoongi grabs your wrist and stops you, pulling out his money instead, saying, “and I’ll take an Americano.”

“Would you like something to eat? We have a coffee and cake special tonight,” the cashier says. Yoongi lets go of your wrist, and nods his head towards the display cabinet.

“Pick something.”

“Wh— not if you’re paying for me,” you reply, frowning.

“_____, pick something,” he chuckles. You furrow your eyebrows, but you turn eventually, realising there’s no way you’re winning tonight.

“Fine. I’ll have a slice of the strawberry cheesecake then.”

Yoongi nods towards the tables, telling you to take a seat as he finishes ordering everything. You obey, albeit a little reluctantly, taking a seat at a table in the far corner of the cafe, putting your bag down by your feet just as Yoongi joins you.

“You didn’t have to pay for me,” you say, trying not to whine (but probably failing miserably).

“I wanted to though,” he replies, just chuckling. “I was the one that dragged you out tonight.”

“It’s not like you forced me out though. I wanted to come. Better than cup noodles and anime any day.”

“_____. Seriously. It’s fine.” You frown, but lean back in your seat comfortably. “I’ll just pick up an extra shift during the week to make up for what I’ve lost tonight.”

“Yoongi!” you whine; he laughs, clapping his hands once at the expression on your face.

“I’m kidding!” He grins, watching as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I’ll only need to pick up half a shift, I think.”

“What made you decide to study medicine?” Yoongi asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“My grandpa, actually,” you say, eating a bite of cheesecake. “I was pretty much raised by my grandparents because my parents were always working. He always dreamed of becoming a doctor.”

“He didn’t get to be one?” You shake your head.

“I’m from a family of lawyers. I think everyone all the way back to my great-great grandparents has been a lawyer. My grandpa used to be a judge before he retired, but he always talked about how much he wished he’d become a doctor instead. My bedtime stories were medical discoveries and all these tales of doctors doing the impossible. He’s so excited that there’s finally gonna be a doctor in the family that he’s paying for my tuition completely.”

“Wow. A family of rich super nerds. I shouldn’t be surprised.” You snort quietly. “And Taehyung? Is he from a family of rich super nerds too?”

“Nah. But Tae’s always known he’s gonna either work with kids or animals. His little brother had his tonsils out when we were in our sophomore year, and he was so inspired by the whole ordeal that he decided to try out for med school with me. And, uh, I guess, here we are.”

“Interesting.”

“How about you?” you ask, bringing your cup closer to your lips. “Have you always dreamed of being a barista?”

“Oh, hell yeah. I’m working my dream job, for sure. I couldn’t have asked for more,” Yoongi replies, grinning, voice dripping with sarcasm that you have to put your coffee back down before you spill it everywhere as you laugh. “Nah, this is just a temporary thing — hopefully.”

“What do you want to be, Yoongi?” you ask, leaning forward, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your chin in your hand.

“I wanna be a producer. Or songwriter. Or both. Any of those options is fine by me. I do a few gigs down at Club Cream in Hongdae here and there with a few of my friends.”

“You sing?!”

“Rap. Like hell you’ll ever catch me singing.”

“Wow. I mean, thinking about it, it actually kinda suits you. But I would’ve never guessed that about you,” you reply, leaning back in your seat.

“Why?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow arched in amusement. “What do I look like I’d be into?”

You narrow your eyes, looking at him with exaggerated curiosity.

“I dunno. Carpentry?” Yoongi snorts — loudly. “You look like you’ve got a carpenter’s hands.”

“That’s a first. Never gotten that one before.”

“Why? What do you usually get?”

“I’ve gotten computer nerd, professional gamer, Seven-Eleven dude… fortune cookie writer…”

“Fortune cookie writer?” you repeat, laughing loudly.

“Yeah, that was Jeongguk,” Yoongi says, shaking his head. “Apparently I seem like the kind of guy that would be good at writing fortunes.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s hear some bomb-ass fortunes then, O Wise One.”

“Hold on.” You watch over your cup of coffee as Yoongi presses his fingers to his temples, shutting his eyes tightly in concentration. “Oh, here’s one. Don’t eat the paper. Also, your lucky numbers are: one, five, sixteen, twenty seven, and thirty. Pretty good, huh?”

“So. Where to now?” Yoongi asks, tugging his jacket back on.

“I dunno,” you say, shrugging. “But I’m down for whatever, because I’m not looking to go home to see Taehyung and Jeongguk doing something I could’ve gone my entire life without seeing.”

“To be fair, they could be doing that at my place too.”

“Well. We’re screwed, I guess.”

“Hold on,” he chuckles, pulling his phone out. You watch as Yoongi taps away, pauses, then taps again, until eventually, he concludes, “they’re at yours, and Jeongguk has no idea when they’ll be ‘finished’. God. Does he have to say it like that?”

“I’d rather work a double shift at A&E than go there,” you say, wincing.

“We can go back to mine if you want. Wait, that… that wasn’t me trying to get you to do, um, something, by the way.” You throw your head back and laugh.

“Sounds good, Yoongi. Surely being a med intern means that if I can revive a man, I also know how to kill him.”

“Sounds fair. Let’s go.”

“Ooh. Okay. Now I see why you call this your first love,” you say, fingers skirting along ivory keys and polished wood. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, wistful. “It took an arm and a leg to get it in here, but I’m never getting rid of it. They can take all my furniture away and force me to sleep on the floor for all I care.” You chuckle quietly. “Jeongguk… Jeongguk told me that Taehyung said you play.”

“I do,” you answer. “Not as often these days though, now that I’m an intern. Mostly at church now, or if we’re having a family lunch at grandpa’s and I need to entertain the younger cousins, you know?”

“Play something.” You look at Yoongi, hesitant; he smiles back in reply.

“Al… alright.” You put your bag down by the sofa, slipping off your scarf, before walking back to the piano, the leather of the chair groaning quietly as you sit down. “Any requests?” Yoongi shrugs.

“Something you like playing,” he suggests.

Poised fingers rest on the ivory keys of the piano as you think for a moment before you start to play anything, the small apartment eventually filling with quiet music, the smooth crooning of Chopin taking over the sounds of the traffic outside. Behind you, Yoongi sits down on the edge of the sofa, watching you play with awe, marvelling at the way you seem so at ease and carefree as you play the piece flawlessly.

The music ends too soon for his liking.

“Wow,” he whispers, lips parted.

“Just a little something,” you reply, shrugging, trying not to blush. “You play something.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know anything classical,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s okay. Anything’ll do, Yoongi.”

You shuffle down aside to make room for him on the other side of the seat, patting the space next to you. He takes up the offer, though he walks over with cautious steps, clearing his throat.

Yoongi starts to play, filling the room with something a little heavier than Chopin, and you’re taken aback for a moment, just watching the way his fingers move along the keys like water. You don’t know what compels you to bring your hands back up from your lap to start playing with him, making the tune up along as you go, but it’s amazing, beautiful even, that you both find yourselves smiling.

You withdraw your hands, and let Yoongi finish off the song on his own, letting the apartment fall into a comfortable silence.

“Shit,” he eventually says, sighing before he chuckles. “I wish I recorded that.”