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littlelovelyspiderling · 4 months ago

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Meeting The Real You (Chapter 11)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12

AO3 story link

word count: 19,900

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“Still no luck figuring out what’s been eating at the kid, huh?”

Tony Stark stood in front of the mirror in the lavish master bathroom on the 96th floor, staring at his reflection while drowsily brushing his teeth. It was barely 6:30 in the morning, and Pepper had already gotten up, dressed, and left for work that day, whispering something about an early meeting with the recipients of a university grant they were sponsoring before kissing him on the cheek and hurrying out the door. He loved how committed she was to their company and her job; no one did more for the new mission of Stark Industries than she did. He just wished it didn’t mean waking up in an empty bed more monings than not.

FRIDAY took an unusually long time to respond to his question. “Actually…” she said, a strange hesitancy in her Irish-accented voice. “I’m fairly certain I have figured out what’s been increasing his stress levels as of late. I’ve had a theory about its origin for about three days now.”

Stark spat into the sink and wiped his face with a scowl. “Three days? FRIDAY—did I or did I not ask you to report back to me as soon as you found out what was going on with him?”

“You did,” FRIDAY confirmed reluctantly. “However, I concluded that the information I discovered was, to my understanding…uniquely sensitive. It’s not the kind of thing I feel comfortable just telling you outright.”

Tony scoffed, towel-drying his hair. “What has gotten into you lately? Has Pete been messing with your programming or something? I know I designed you to be as opinionated and bullheaded as myself, but this is getting a little out of hand—borderline mutinous.”

Stark’s creations had a lot of things in common with their creator: such as liking Peter more than Tony and frequently letting the kid’s desires outweigh their better judgment. The Avenger stole a glob of Pepper’s wildly expensive under eye cream and dabbed a little on the planes of his face where the lines were the most prominent; where they were beginning to look a tad deeper and darker than he remembered. “You do know I could just search through your logs and find out the truth for myself.”

“You could,” FRIDAY agreed. “But I believe you have more class than that. This is something you should ask Peter about in person, and only know if he feels comfortable enough to disclose it to you.”

Tony paused, considering the possibility that maybe he didn’t want to know what FRIDAY knew about the kid with the way she was being so cryptic about it. “Is he…in danger in any way?” he asked uneasily.

“No. I wouldn’t say so.”

“Does he have, like—a weird health thing he needs to go to a professional about?”

“No.”

“Does his aunt know about whatever this is?”

The A.I. was silent for a moment. “No. Not entirely, anyway.”

“Does she need to know about it entirely?”

“Not right now. But eventually, yes.”

Stark puffed out his cheeks in frustration. “Could you at least give me a hint about what I’m dealing with here? Teenage superhero babysitting is an art I’m still learning to navigate, and not something I ever imagined myself being implicated in prior to that pantyhose-wearing spider-baby web-swinging his way into my life.” He smoothed some gel into his salt and pepper locks. “Just tell me as much as May knows. I need some context to understand what the hell I should even be asking him about.”

FRIDAY considered this. “Very well,” she conceded. “The thing I believe is worrying him so much is that he’s developed a crush on someone.”

Immediately, the billionaire perked up. “Really?” he said. “A crush? That’s what all this angst and drama has been about? The way you were talking about it, I thought he might be purchasing strippers with my credit card, or—I don’t know. Shooting heroin?”

“He’s sixteen, boss. Having a crush is one of the most angsty and dramatic things sixteen-year-olds go through.” She paused. “Well. Normal sixteen-year-olds, anyway.”

“Right.” Which Peter was anything but. Still, it was nice to know Pete wasn’t so far removed from kids his age that he wasn’t going through the same formative experiences teenagers were supposed to have. Stark studied himself in the mirror, teasing his facial hair into a more stylish shape. “Well then. This is certainly an exciting development. Who’s the kiddo crushing on? Anybody I know?”

“I’m afraid that’s all the information I can give you,” the A.I. stated firmly. Tony let out a long sigh.

“Very well.” He slipped on a sports coat over his T-shirt and dabbed his wrists with a splash of Cairon Poivre. “Where’s the little lovebird now? Is it a good time for me to approach him about this? Should I even approach him about this? What do I say to him? Chill the fuck out? Make a move? Back off? What’s the end goal here? Am I even qualified to be giving him advice on this sort of thing?”

Whether either of them liked it or not, Tony Stark was, at present, the closest thing Peter had to a father figure. That didn’t mean he was any good at it—especially when it came to situations and subjects the two of them had yet to broach. Tony had jokingly questioned Peter about his romantic life in the past, shooting the breeze while the pair tinkered away the hours in his lab, but the kid had always brushed him off, timidly insisting he had zero time for that sort of thing.

Stark wondered what had changed since then. Who was it the kid found so darn dreamy, his shy little heart had no choice but to break its hiatus and worry itself sick with incessant teenage pining?

“It’s not even seven yet, boss,” FRIDAY said amusedly. “Peter is still asleep.”

Tony deflated with a slow breath out. “Oh. Right.”

“But I’ll let you know when he’s awake and ready for company,” she continued. “If you do decide to talk to him, I wouldn’t press him too hard for details or inundate him with advice. What I think Peter needs most right now is just…” the A.I. hummed thoughtfully. “A little encouragement. You know—support and reassurance from someone he admires and trusts.”

Stark cracked a smile. “So we’re in favor of Pete’s mystery crush, then? We want them to end up together? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” FRIDAY admitted. “I already know for certain that the person he likes likes him back.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “FRIDAY! You conniving little fiend! Just how much of your compute power are you funneling towards playing matchmaker with my intern?”

The A.I. ran a few rapid calculations in silence. “No comment,” she answered shrewdly.

Chuckling, Stark strode out of the bathroom into he and Pepper’s bedroom. “Well, ping me when the kid’s conscious and available. I’m eager to play my part in your Machiavellian plot to win Pete a hot date.” After lacing up his shoes, Tony stood and scratched his beard. “Speaking of, is May up yet? I’d be interested in getting her perspective on all of this.”

“How should I know? I don’t monitor the sleep schedules of people outside this tower. That’d be creepy.”

The Avenger rolled his eyes. “I didn’t—whatever. I’ll just call her.” Stark pulled out his phone and tapped Mrs. Parker’s contact photo, which was 3rd from the top on his speed dial list. Only Pepper and Happy eclipsed her in priority. He was pleasantly surprised when she picked up.

“Good morning, May. Sorry for calling you so early. Yes, Pete’s fine. I took his stitches out yesterday. With the speed his body heals, he’ll probably come out the other side of this without so much as a scar.”

Tony stepped out of the bedroom into the rotunda with a monstrous yawn, his sights set on the 98th story’s commercial grade espresso machine.

“So, quick question. Has Peter mentioned anything to you about having a crush on someone…?”

_______________________________

Sleep took its time prying its claws from Peter’s mind. He woke slowly, hazily, vision shifting in and out of focus, thoughts struggling to take shape. Something heavy and warm was laying on top of him. It felt like some kind of weighted blanket with a built-in heater. He was so cozy and comfortable, it was hard to convince his brain to come to.

What finally dragged his stubborn body to consciousness was the sour taste in his mouth. He must’ve fallen asleep without brushing his teeth. Now that he mentioned it, Peter couldn’t remember putting himself to bed last night. As he ran his tacky tongue over his incisors, realizing the room around him was not, in fact, his bedroom, Peter reached up to rub his eyes but hit hard glass instead. Still wearing my mask, his brain recognized sluggishly. Great. His worst breakouts always happened after falling asleep with it on. He must’ve passed out on the couch by accident while binging Love Island with Johnny Storm.

Peter stiffened. His attention returned to that warm weight lying on top of him from his chest all the way down to his feet (which also had his left arm pinned against the sofa cushions). He craned his neck to find a head-full of strawberry blonde hair resting against his sternum and two muscular arms wrapped snugly around his waist, hugging his midsection like a giant teddy bear.

The vigilante’s blood went red-hot beneath his skin. Suddenly, he was wide awake. Johnny had his whole self draped across Peter’s narrow frame and was spooning him like a Spidey-sized body pillow. Peter had no idea how the two of them had wound up in this position—or whether this was something Johnny had done on purpose, or by accident. Did he intentionally cuddle up to him like this sometime in the night? Or was it normal for him to wake up with all his limbs coiled unknowingly around the closest object in his proximity? The sleeping celebrity’s heartbeat thumped a lazy rhythm against his own—which was upping its pace faster and faster by the second.

He was just…so pretty. Golden shafts of particle-flecked light speared through Johnny’s hair from the tall, shuttered windows, gilding every strand in resplendent halos. His near-invisible eyelashes glowed like dove feathers at the break of dawn. Tiny, perfect freckles flecked his tranquil face, adorning his nose, his eyelids, his lips, his chin—even the delicate shells of both of his ears. He looked like a painting come to life, a poem in flesh and blood, a sacred hymn of rose-flushed cheeks and angel-soft skin. Peter swooned at the thought of running his fingers through that ruffled wave of sun-kissed locks, but didn’t dare touch him while he slept. That would be wrong. Especially since he still hadn’t mastered the courage to confess his feelings to him yet. Until he had the balls to do that much, Peter didn’t deserve to even think about things like that.

Unfortunately, it was hard for Peter to think about much else while the beautiful superhero snoozed peacefully on top of him, arms wound tight to his torso, breaths slow and soft. It was also difficult for Peter to, y’know—move without potentially disturbing him. Spider-Man gazed around the room as much as his limited range of motion allowed, sudden nervousness gripping him at the thought of being discovered in his current state. How the hell would he explain this? He spotted his phone on the ground a few feet away from the couch and managed to angle his wrist towards it, firing a line of spider’s silk at the device and whipping it into his free hand. The battery was nearly dead since he hadn’t charged it overnight, but he could use up what little juice remained while he figured out what to do about the warm lump of teenager he was presently trapped under.

Johnny had somehow gotten both the spit take video and the prank video edited and posted before daybreak. According to the time stamps, both videos were published on all his social media platforms between 4 and 5am. He hadn’t posted any of the footage of when Johnny had interrogated Peter as they were cleaning up the lab just yet, but churning the other two videos out that fast was a miracle in itself.

No wonder the Human Torch was sprawled across him, practically comatose. Peter doubted he’d slept more than a few hours last night. Maybe Spider-Man really was a bad influence on him—at least, on his normally methodic sleep schedule.

The videos—embarrassing as they were—were entertaining enough and very well edited. Johnny certainly had a gift for comedic timing: punching in on each of their faces every time one of them spat water across the room, adding in silly little audio bites of popular sound effects to punctuate different moments, replaying their teammates getting shot with glitter paint over and over again in slow motion. Peter found himself stifling a giggle every now and then as he let the videos run, making sure to keep the sound on the lowest setting.

Near the end of the spit take video, Peter opened up the comments to avoid having to watch himself be shoved against the wall by the Human Torch, blood rushing to his cheeks. But when he started scrolling through what people had been writing on the post, the heat in his face blazed tenfold.

so…johnny’s 100% into spider-man. is anyone else getting that vibe or…?

The way Spider-Man is making Johnny giggle SO much im?? 😭 Losing my mind??

do you think spiderman knows how badly johnny wants him

✨THEY’RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR✨

Oh they’ve explored each others bodies for sure

i did not have “shipping spider-man and johnny storm” on my bingo card for this year, but here we are 💁🏽‍♀️

I wonder if johnny knows who spidey is?? He has to know right?

this video alone may or may not have turned me from a spidey hater to a fan

God i hope spiderman isn’t too old to date johnny cuz they’d be SO cute together

The way he pinned him to the wall 😳 screaming crying throwing up

oh i knowww spidey is blushingggg behind that mask fr

my god just KISS ALREADY

Before he could stress-read a single more line, the screen winked to black before his eyes. His phone had officially died. Slowly, Peter’s arm fell limp at his side, the device slipping from his fingers onto the floor, heart on a pendulum as he gaped at the ceiling.

Okay…don’t panic, he told himself, panicking. On one hand, it was great to have his suspicions of Johnny’s feelings for him validated. Even if Johnny’s fans were being…a bit too enthusiastic about it (to an arguably feral and inappropriate degree), at least they were picking up on all the same signs Peter was.

Peter was not, however, in any way ready for the world to know about Spider-Man’s sexual identity. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. The fact that people were openly discussing it and debating it before he’d even had a full week to digest it himself set his teeth on his edge and his skin crawling. Eventually, of course, Peter did plan to come out to those closest to him—but on his own terms, on his own time table, as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, and only to the individuals in his life he deemed worthy of knowing. No one else.

Johnny Storm deserved the same. Even if he was queer, and did perhaps exhibit more obvious indicators of that fact than Spider-Man did, that shouldn’t mean everyone gets free rein to make invasive comments and assumptions about his private life. As far as Peter was aware, Johnny had never disclosed his sexual orientation to the public, nor should he have to if that’s not what he wanted. Despite Johnny’s rather laissez-faire approach to how accessible he was to his fans, Peter felt protective of his right to privacy.

It took Peter a few minutes of stewing to conclude it wasn’t necessarily people making assumptions about his and Johnny’s relationship that rubbed him the wrong way. People made far worse assumptions about him all the time. What bothered him was that the assumptions being made about him now were true—or rather, dangerously close to the truth. He knew working on his image with Johnny would mean revealing more of his real self to the public. He just didn’t expect the public to tear through his defenses so fast, ripping open his cloistered heart for all to see.

In exchange for their trust and support, Peter was game to share pieces of himself with the people and world he was sworn to protect. But not this. Anything but this. Spider-Man’s crush on Johnny was never supposed to be part of this transaction. For now, that was between him and the Human Torch. Even if it seemed like most people were saying Johnny was the one with the crush, not Spider-Man, he still felt exposed, like a politician splitting their pants on live television.

Peter took a moment to breathe. People do this to celebrities all the time, he reminded himself. Anyone they’re seen hanging out with for more than five minutes is automatically assumed to be their latest fling. And it wasn’t like everyone on the internet was drawing the same conclusions the fans on that post were. That was a very small, chronically-online faction of the public. They were probably the same nutjobs over-analyzing any and all interviews the Avengers did, insisting that every fleeting glance Natasha Romanoff shared with Hawkeye absolutely meant they were sleeping together, or the way Stark bumped shoulders with Dr. Banner whenever they stood side-by-side proved they were engaged in a sloppy secret romance. According to those people, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes weren’t just a group of highly skilled individuals dedicated to public service, but also a bunch of sex addicts in one big polyamorous super orgy.

Peter made a face at the unsightly image that train of thought had led him to. Point is, you’re fine, he told himself, letting his eyes slip shut behind his mask. Only when the Daily Bugle starts posting puff pieces about you and Johnny potentially being a thing are you allowed to freak out. For now, the general public isn’t going to see you two as anything other than friends.

Besides. None of this would really matter, anyway. Not until he cut the bullshit and finally told the Human Torch how he felt about him. Not until he learned what Spider-Man truly meant to the teenage heartthrob. Not until Johnny confirmed he liked him in the way Peter and all those crackpot commentators hoped. Not until Peter knew for sure if there was any chance of them pursuing something beyond a friendship.

A small grunt came from Johnny as the sleepy hero shifted positions, his head still resting on Peter’s chest but his arms loosening their grip on Peter’s torso. Peter scanned the room again with an anxious sweep of his gaze. One thing was for certain: Spider-Man would never escape the allegations circling their relationship if he was caught with Johnny Storm cuddling him like a baby koala. Plus, his left arm was starting to go numb. As much as he’d love to lie here, swaddled in the soporific tincture of Johnny’s supernatural warmth and dangerously sweet scent, Spider-Man needed to get up.

It took all of Peter’s superhuman strength, flexibility, and stealth to maneuver himself out from under Johnny without jostling the celebrity awake. Johnny twitched and murmured as Peter lifted his weight off his chest then gently lowered the teen back onto the couch, but thankfully, never fully stirred. Once he was splayed across the plush cushions sans his cuddle buddy, the Human Torch curled into a ball and resumed his quiet snoring.

Exhaling in relief, Peter leveled a smile upon Johnny’s delicate, slumbering form. He readjusted the blanket so it was covering the sleepy hero’s feet, then tip-toed into the kitchen, shaking out the pins and needles tingling across his left arm.

How do we wanna do this? Peter asked himself, leaning over the sink with his back to the Human Torch. Should I go old-fashioned, buy him some flowers and a box of chocolates? Is that something people normally do? Or just on Valentine’s Day? Would it be too much? Too little? Do boys even do things like that for each other? Either way, Johnny’s tastes were probably out of his price range, anyhow. He doubted a wilted bouquet from that crabby vendor on 23rd Street paired with drug store chocolate dipped in lead poisoning and child slavery would impress him.

Peter shot a glance over his shoulder to double check that the celebrity was still sleeping, then slipped the Spider-Man mask off his face, grateful there wasn’t a mirror around to show him just how bedraggled he looked. He laid the mask on the counter to his right and flipped the sink faucet on, cupping his hands beneath the icy stream.

Okay, no flowers, he decided defeatedly. He splashed his face with cold water, scrubbing his hands over his eyes and forehead. Maybe no gifts at all. You didn’t do any gifts for Liz—you just came right out and said it. “I like you.” And hey, that worked out just fine. Minus her dad trying to bury you under a building and tear you limb-from-limb and all. Why can’t you do the same thing now? Why is this so much harder and scarier?

Johnny’s sister coming after him with a bloodlust equal to the Vulture’s wasn’t the thing holding him back—despite that being a very real possibility. What all of it really boiled down to, Peter couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was a whole interconnected, messy web of things. Cowardice and insecurity, embarrassment and uncertainty—perhaps even a smidge of internalized homophobia, which only made him more ashamed and self-conscious about it all. Peter sipped from the faucet, sloshed the water around in his mouth for a bit, then spat. It wasn’t enough to wash the acrid taste from his tongue.

You just gotta do it, he told himself, glaring at the water trickling down the drain. You just gotta say it. Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man. Quit being such a little bitch. All it takes is three words. Three little words. Just walk up to him, look him in the eye, open that big, dumb mouth of yours, and say—

“Your hair’s curly.”

Peter’s body went rigid, spine pin-straight. His fingers clamped around the lip of the sink as an exaggerated yawn sounded from behind him.

“It’s pretty,” Johnny continued, voice slurred with drowsiness. “I haven’t seen it ‘til now.”

Stiff as a board, Peter groped blindly for his mask, not daring to move his head an inch. It took his hand a few frantic passes to come in contact with the familiar fabric. He snatched the mask off the counter and immediately pulled it over his face, relief splintering through him once it was back in place. Spider-Man forced his muscles to soften, then turned towards his friend.

“Sorry, I was—I, er…thought you were still asleep.” The words tumbled out of him in a stuttery, pathetic tangle, making his cheeks burn against the inside of his mask. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, leaned against the counter, then stood back upright, fists taut at his sides, suddenly forgetting how to stand normally.

Johnny laid exactly where he’d left him: bundled beneath the blanket like a strawberry-blonde cherub, curled against the backrest of the crushed velvet sofa, except now his eyes were open. Exhaustion weighed on his features as he blinked at him slowly.

“I didn’t see your face, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Johnny reassured him groggily. “And I doubt I could figure out who you are just from seeing the back of your head. I’m not that smart.”

Peter's shoulders relaxed a little. He was grateful Johnny hadn’t pressed the subject of his secret identity much since they’d become friends. Part of him wondered if it was because he understood how much it meant to Peter to keep his superhero life separate from his civilian life. Another part of him wondered if it was because Johnny preferred not knowing what he looked like. Perhaps the Human Torch only tolerated his presence because of the unique mystery and intrigue his mask imbued him with. With his appearance hidden, Johnny could imagine Spidey as whoever or whatever he most desired. A model, a movie star, a prince, a god—someone so perfect and elegant, lambent with beauty devastating enough to finally match his own, Peter Parker could never measure up. Once Spider-Man’s true face was revealed, Johnny would see him for who he really was: another boring, unremarkable nobody, indistinguishable from the millions of others who fawned over the celebrity heartthrob 24/7. A bland-looking loser unworthy of wasting another second of his time.

“Did both of us fall asleep out here last night?” Johnny asked, kneading his knuckles into his eyes. “Ugh. That’s not like me at all. I have a very strict bedtime routine I normally can’t sleep without.”

A shrewd smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “Does part of that routine involve some kind of toy or pillow you wrap your entire body around and half-strangle all night?” Just because he was being sucked out to sea by his dull appearance and crippling self-loathing didn’t mean Johnny had to know about it.

Johnny lifted his gaze to Peter’s, a touch of scarlet blooming in his cheeks, riveting Peter’s heart with spellbinding affection. “How do you know about that?” he asked, baffled. Then he scowled at the couch. “Wait…” A couple seconds passed, and his eyes widened, a tiny plume of smoke billowing off his scalp. “Oh my god. Did I…?”

“Use me as your own personal body pillow last night?” Peter finished for him with a laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much. At least while you were actually sleeping, rather than editing TikTok videos until 5 in the morning.”

The Human Torch’s blush darkened in unison with the smoke spilling from the top of his head. The celebrity let out an incredulous groan, clamping a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he giggled helplessly. “You should’ve woken me up or shoved me off. Unconscious me is very clingy for some reason. It’s why I always sleep with my Puffy.”

Peter fought back a snort. “Your…Puffy?” he repeated back, monumentally intrigued. Johnny sighed, freckled skin tinted pink in the soft, spooling sunshine.

“Yes, my Puffy. I named him when I was four, so you can shut the fuck up about it.”

Peter’s grin stretched so wide it hurt. “And who or what, might I ask, is this so-called ‘Puffy’?” Out of the hours and hours of endless Johnny Storm content Peter had consumed online, he’d never heard anything about this.

Johnny wrapped the blanket around his head to smother the smoke still rising from his hair, transforming himself into a grouchy, sleep-deprived babushka. “If you must know,” he grumbled, holding his chin high with his arms crossed against his chest, “Puffy is a stuffed toy in the shape of an airplane that Sue crocheted for me when I was a kid. He was Sue’s gift to me for my fourth birthday, and I’ve had him ever since.”

Peter busted into a laugh before he could stop himself. “Really? An airplane? That’s ridiculously cute, but—why an airplane?”

“Because I like airplanes!” Johnny snapped defensively. “I’ve always liked airplanes! I’ve been studying aircraft models since before I could read! It’s why I went and got my pilot’s license the moment I turned sixteen, and why Sue and Reed actually trusted me to be Ben’s co-pilot for our space mission despite my age. If there’s one thing I’m a bigger nerd for than you are, it’s operating complex machines built for precision and speed.”

Peter had to remind himself that beyond being ridiculously hot, rich, powerful, and famous, Johnny Storm was also an accomplished auto mechanic and teen prodigy in both stratospheric jet piloting and space flight. Johnny had briefly discussed his background with cars and planes to the press in the past, but hadn’t spoken a word about it to Peter until now, which was unusually modest of him. The fact remained that he was a genius in ways Peter never would be—cooler, dreamier, more romantic ways. Spider-Man blinked at Johnny, startled by how much more attractive he suddenly found him.

“Sometimes I forget beneath all that hyaluronic acid and vitamin c serum and organic hair mousse, you’re actually, like—super smart,” Peter mused. “I mean, building cars and flying spaceships? Those are some pretty remarkable accomplishments if you ask me. I can’t believe I’m suggesting you brag about yourself even more than you already do, but…I feel like you don’t talk about that side of Johnny Storm as much as everything else.”

Johnny frowned, worrying the edge of the blanket between his fingers. “None of it really measures up to what my sister has achieved with her freakish science brain,” he explained quietly. “Fans and media outlets already get their genius Storm fix from Sue, so they come to me for other stuff. Music videos and fashion shows and modeling and skincare hacks.” He shrugged. “Which I get. Gotta avoid redundancy. And it’s best to play into our biggest strengths for the sake of the team’s brand.” The Human Torch gnawed his inner lip. “Besides…after what happened with the space mission, I don’t like talking about that stuff anyway.”

Peter studied Johnny’s troubled expression bemusedly. Have I finally found it? he thought to himself. Something Johnny Storm might actually be insecure about? His first instinct was to poke fun at him for it, but the remorseful look on Johnny’s face made Peter rethink his approach. He returned to Johnny’s side, plopping next to him on the couch.

“Why? What does that have to do with your cars and planes expertise?”

“Because it was my first time piloting a real spacecraft out of earth’s atmosphere, and I totally blew it,” he said, unable to meet Peter’s gaze. “While Ben was placing the sample collectors on the outside of the spaceship, I was in charge of piloting the craft until he returned. It was a routine procedure he and I had practiced a hundred times together. I did everything perfectly every time except the one day it actually mattered. When the alarms started blaring and I saw the dust cloud barreling towards our shuttle, I panicked.”

Peter recognized the dark haze muddying Johnny’s eyes. He’d seen eyes heavy with those same bitter storm clouds stare back at himself in the months following the murder of his uncle. They were the eyes of someone who knew they could’ve done more, but hadn’t. The eyes of someone plagued by a single moment in their past that was still hollowing them out with guilt and regret to this day. Eyes that would carry the weight of their owner's failure for the rest of their lives.

“I turned the ship when I should’ve just held steady. The movement threw off Ben’s course as he was making his approach back to the entry hatch. It took him an extra seven seconds to get back on board, which meant there wasn’t enough time to close the blast doors before the space dust hit. If I’d just kept our goddamn position like I was supposed to, maybe we all could’ve escaped the mission unscathed.” He shut his eyes, hanging his head low. “I did exactly what everyone feared I would do. I fucked everything up.”

Tears started slipping down Johnny Storm’s cheeks. Despite Peter’s increased exposure to it, the Human Torch’s tumultuous emotional state continued to both rattle and amuse him. The way he could flip from warm to teasing to embarrassed to tearful within minutes was a bit disorienting, yet painfully endearing.

“Johnny…” Peter said through a halfhearted smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. We talked about this. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened that day. The whole thing was one seriously insane accident. And even if the cosmic radiation hitting everyone was partially your fault, you’re all superheroes now because of it.” He brushed his fingers along Johnny’s back in gentle, hesitant circles. “Why are you still beating yourself up about this?”

“Because Ben got turned into a freak because of me,” Johnny snapped, swiping his palms under his red-rimmed eyes. “His wife left him, took full custody of their kids, and refuses to let him see them. He lost everything because of what that radiation did to him, and I know he blames me for it.”

His words poked holes in Peter’s heart like tiny, colorful push pins. Ben and Johnny butted heads a lot, sure. But for Ben to actually hold a grudge that serious against Johnny? Peter couldn’t imagine it being true. “Johnny—” he started to say.

“Reed can’t hide how much he pities me. I know he can see how much guilt I feel after failing to follow through on the one responsibility he convinced everyone to entrust me with, which is somehow worse than him hating me. And Sue…” Johnny sniffled, voice caving in with grief. “Sue hasn’t been the same since that day. She isn’t the sister I remember anymore. That space dust…changed her somehow. Changed us. Everything’s changed since I turned that fucking ship.”

Peter didn’t know what else to do other than continue running his palm up and down the Human Torch’s back, trying to offer some kind of comfort to the anguished teen. But as Johnny’s lamenting went on, Peter snatched his hand back with a small yelp. Blue-tinted flames suddenly lapped off the teen’s shoulders, singeing the tip of Spider-Man’s index finger. Johnny buried his face in his hands, seemingly unaware of the wildfire currently engulfing his upper body.

“After the accident that killed my mom, I forced myself to learn exactly how every part of a car worked. I spent four summers in a row working in my dad’s old auto shop, taking apart different kinds of cars and putting them back together again. When Sue first mentioned the mission she and Reed were planning to me, I rededicated myself to studying air and spacecraft instead. I spent months preparing for my pilot’s exam and begging them to let me come so I could make sure everything and everybody was safe. I did all of it so I could understand how to prevent her from meeting the same fate as—as Mom. I just…wanted to protect everyone. In the only way I knew how.” Johnny balled his hands against his eyes, digging his fists deep into the sockets. “Instead, I was the one who nearly killed everyone and wound up upending all our lives.”

One would think with all the money and fame and notoriety and pearly-smiled photoshoots the Fantastic Four boasted after gaining their powers that the quartet of superheroes adored their new lives. The truth of the matter was clearly much more complicated than any of the headlines or Buzzfeed interviews made it out to be. It diced Peter up inside to think of Johnny blaming himself for all the struggles his teammates had faced post-mission, even if they were completely out of his control, or how much the loss of his mother continued to weigh on him to this day. It cut even deeper realizing how much he could relate—recognizing his own guilt and regret reflected back at him in the tears staining Johnny’s cheeks.

“I know this isn’t the best time for me to be saying this,” Peter interceded reluctantly, leaning away from the sweltering inferno. “But…you’re sort of setting the couch on fire.”

Johnny’s hands immediately dropped from his face. “What? I’m—oh, shit—!” He flew to his feet, the blue hues in his flames flaring back to red. “Dammit! And then there’s—fucking this! Me destroying everything I touch all the goddamn time! Ugh! Do you know how infuriating this gets? I can’t do or feel anything without burning down everything around me!”

Peter winced back as a wave of heat and cinders blasted towards him. A gasp shuddered out of Johnny at the sight, and he banished the flames from his body as swiftly as he could. Ringlets of smoke continued to eddy from his shoulders and hair. Tears mottled his dark blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny croaked out. “I usually—I can control myself better than that. I have to. I don’t know why this set me off so much. I just…” He dragged both his hands through his scalp. “I hate how angry these powers have made me, and how much worse the consequences are if I wind up losing my cool. I miss being able to scream and cry and get my feelings out without bursting into flame and torching what I can only assume is a four million dollar couch.”

Peter spared a glance at the blackened cushions. “Could’ve been worse. Pretty sure the couch on the penthouse floor is worth five million.”

Johnny’s lips twitched into a weak smile, but Spider-Man could tell he was still fighting back tears. Peter approached him slowly, watching the smoke spill off the celebrity’s body and dance across the ceiling.

“Your teammates love you, Johnny. Anyone with eyes and a half-functioning brain can see that. Whatever anger or pity or whatever else you think they might feel towards you because of that day, I promise their love for you outweighs it a hundred times over.”

Johnny just stood there with his arms hugged against his ribs and his eyes downcast, smoke and tears pouring from him in long, silent streams. Peter couldn’t bear to see him look so hurt. Without thinking, he lifted his hands to cup Johnny’s face on either side, brushing away his tears with thumbs.

“You’re more than your mistakes, Johnny. So much more. I need you to understand that. Okay?”

A few seconds passed before Johnny lifted his eyes to meet his, and Peter feared for a moment that he might be the one to spontaneously combust. The Human Torch looked so distraught, so beautiful, so wounded, so heavenly. He was bleeding in places Peter could never reach, could never fix. He was damaged in ways Peter could temporarily alleviate, but never fully heal. Peter wanted to drain all the pain from Johnny’s weary, fragile heart. He wanted to suck the guilt out of Johnny’s soul and replace it with everything Peter saw when he held his gaze. He—he wanted to kiss him.

Oh god. He wanted to kiss him so badly right now.

The panic that desire kindled rang through his bones like church bells. Maybe this is how I tell him what he means to me, he thought. Maybe Peter didn’t have to say anything at all. Actions spoke louder than words, after all—right? But was it wrong to kiss somebody without asking first? He considered it, then shrunk from the thought, then considered it again, weighing the choices before him like clay in his hands, his heart a thundering war drum in his chest. Right as he thought he might actually summon the gall to lay it all on the line and just go for it—

“Mr. Stark would like to speak to you, Spider-Man. He’s on his way down now.”

The A.I.’s words had Peter jerking back from the Human Torch as if he’d burst into flame again. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that FRIDAY was likely surveying Johnny and Peter’s every move and conversation while they were in the tower together. She was there for security, not to spy, but Peter had seen her recording logs firsthand after requesting to download the footage of a particularly explosive mishap in the lab earlier this year. She had eyes on everything and everyone, including the two of them at this very moment.

He couldn’t kiss him here. Not with her watching.

“Oh, uh—he is?” Peter stammered out, marbles of disappointment clinking at the bottom of his stomach, his gaze still on Johnny as the young hero blinked at him slowly. He waved awkwardly at the ceiling. “Right. Got it. Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“You can talk to him,” Johnny insisted, eyes distant and thoughtful. “I’m, uh…I’m okay now.”

Swallowing, Peter bridged a portion of the gap he’d created between them, his hands moving way too much as he spoke. “You know, if you ever need to, like—let all your anger or stress or whatever it is out without worrying about torching anything, Avengers Tower has a room for that. You remember the battle arena where you and I fought? Every inch of that place is made of some of the strongest metal on earth—second only to vibranium. You can burn as bright and hot as you want—maybe even blast a few simulator drones if you need—without worrying about hurting anyone. It’s a great way to blow off steam for people like us. God knows how many times I’ve gone in there when I’ve felt low and needed to throw some punches without holding anything back.” Peter scratched a nonexistent itch on the side of his neck. “I can—I can take you there now, if you’d like.”

Johnny mulled it over for a bit, yawned, then shook his head. “I think what I need now more than anything is sleep. I’m always a big, blubbery, arson-prone grouch when I haven’t gotten my nine hours of REM.” He smiled at Peter, eyes foggy with much more than just exhaustion. “Thanks, though. I’ll let you know when I do need something like that. Which, with my track record, will most likely be sometime within the next week.”

Peter’s heart fluttered with sympathy and fondness. “Maybe you should head up to your room, sleep in a real bed. You know—go back to strangling your Puffy instead of me for the next few hours.”

“Ben is also on his way to this level,” FRIDAY interrupted them once again. “He’s looking for Johnny. He has some, quote: ‘very exciting news to share with him.’”

Johnny scowled. “Uh…what the hell does that mean?”

The ding of the elevator behind them turned both the teens’ heads as Tony Stark stepped through the doors onto the 78th floor. He looked sharp but casual in his coat and T-shirt combo paired with freshly polished tawny brown loafers. He grinned when he saw Peter, which put the teen a bit more at ease, only for the words that came out of his mouth to decimate all of that completely.

“Hey, there he is! The sneaky little lovebird I’ve heard so much about. Why didn’t you tell me it was a crush that’s been making you act so weird and jumpy lately? I’m great with that kind of stuff! Are we not on that level yet, or—” Tony paused when he noticed Johnny standing behind Spider-Man, his chipper smile faltering. “Oh. Sorry. Did you not want me to talk about this in front of him? I figured since the two of you are so close, he already knew.”

Confusion and panic burrowed like worms beneath Peter Parker’s skin. His insides began tangling and melting together as he gawked up at his beaming mentor. “I’m…sorry?” he stuttered, frantically trying to process everything he’d just said to him, horror encasing his lungs. “You—w-what’re you…talking about…?”

Stark chuckled amusedly. “Okay, don’t be mad. But your aunt may or may not have told me that you opened up to her about, y’know…liking someone?”

Peter’s stomach bottomed out. Oh no. Oh god. Oh shit.

“And since she’s not here,” Tony went on, “she has unfortunately enlisted me to be your stand-in romantic liaison to help you navigate this exciting but nerve-wracking love pickle you’ve gotten yourself into. I’m guessing this is her way of getting payback on both of us for the whole gunshot incident we tried hiding from her.” The Avenger snorted, crinkling his nose apologetically. “Normally I’d stay out of this sort of thing, but I’m under strict orders from the big boss herself to encourage and bug you about it until we get results. AKA: you asking your crush out on a date.”

This was a nightmare. It had to be. This wasn’t how Johnny was supposed to find out. It was supposed to be him—

“For starters, I gotta know: what’s the name of this superhero girl you like, and how long have you been fawning over her?”

Peter’s mind went blank. Seconds flew by before the lights finally started flickering back on again. The first sensation Peter felt was relief. Relief that Mr. Stark wasn’t outing him to Johnny before he had the chance to do it himself. The following sensation was a numbing dread, coupled with the cold prickle of Johnny’s gaze tethered to the back of his neck.

“Superhero girl?” Johnny parroted quietly. “What superhero girl?”

Tony huffed incredulously. “You don’t know about her either? Damn, kid. Where the hell have you been hiding this chick?”

Peter didn’t know what to say. His mouth refused to form words despite the hurricane of paradoxical thoughts barreling around his skull. He gingerly turned towards Johnny, knowing the sight would hack his heart to pieces. The celebrity’s face bore an expression weighed down by sorrow, disappointment, defeat. But no shock, no disbelief, which caught Peter by surprise. It was as if…he’d been expecting this to happen. Like he’d been patiently waiting for this exact bombshell to drop, despite hoping that maybe it never would.

Before Peter could scrap together some way to deal with any part of this, booming footsteps shook the floor beneath them as the Thing came clomping down the staircase, jabbing a pudgy finger at Johnny the moment he spotted him. “Hey, Hothead! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

Johnny swiveled languidly towards his teammate, a noticeable slouch in his shoulders. “What do you want, Ben?” he murmured.

“What? You’re pouty? What’s got your lycra in a bunch today?” The Thing barked out a laugh and clapped Johnny on the back with one of his boulder-sized palms, making the teen wince. “Well, turn that frown upside-down, Torchy. We should be celebrating! Haven’t you seen the news?”

“What news?” Stark asked when Johnny didn’t. The Thing flashed a toothy grin in his direction.

“An old friend of ours is popping by Earth for a visit! We haven’t seen him since he volunteered to help us during our space mission. He saved our lives and got us back home in one piece after our ship was damaged from the cosmic storm. We owe him a lot.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “Wait,” he said, all color draining from his face. “You don’t mean—?”

“Nova! He’s here! You remember Nova, don’t yah? Sam Alexander? Man, what a great kid. We would’ve burned up in Earth’s atmosphere if it wasn’t for him.” Ben gave Johnny’s shoulders an affectionate shake. “You two were like peas in pod from the instant you met. A couple of scoundrels up to no good; always getting into trouble. I figured you out of all of us would be most excited to see him again, so I wanted to be the first one to tell yah.”

The look on Johnny’s face was one Peter had never seen before. He was pale as a ghost and rigid with fear. His eyes looked haunted and bleak. His breathing was growing faster and shallower by the second. Not even Fisk with all his power and intimidation tactics had elicited this kind of response from the teen hero. All because Ben had name-dropped some guy Peter had never even heard of before.

Who was this Sam Alexander, and what exactly had he done to his friend?

“I don’t want to see him,” Johnny sputtered out, revived plumes of smoke rising off his body. “I never want to see him again.”

“How come?” the Thing said with a frown. “He wants to see you again. He’s asking to see you specifically. Tweeting about it or whatever. He wants to catch up with all of us, but mostly with you. I think Sue was trying to set up an interview or something.”

“I’m not going,” Johnny immediately countered, wrenching away from Ben. “Tell her I’m not going.” His eyes dashed around the room, holding Peter’s gaze an instant too long before snapping towards the window. “I—I need to leave.”

“Johnny?” Peter called. “Wait—don’t—”

But the Human Torch was already yanking the window open and leaping into the city, flames igniting across his body. Within seconds, he was a streak of orange and gold spearing through the distant gray sky. Peter watched him disappear behind the Empire State building, something dark and icy clawing through his bloodstream.

“Yikes. Wasn’t expecting that.” Ben scratched at his craggy scalp. “Guess I better tell Sue to call off the interview.” The mountainous man stomped back up the stairs, every step rattling the priceless vases perched atop the shelves above the TV.

Stark shot a glance in the direction Johnny Storm had run off, then turned back to Spider-Man, planting a hand on his hip and raising one eyebrow. “So…are we gonna talk about the girl now, or do you want to go deal with that first?”

Peter cycled a deep breath through his lungs. Johnny’s warm, oaky scent still clung to the air, like smoke on clothes the morning after a campfire. He kneaded his fingers into the back of his elbow as he faced his superhero mentor.

“Mr. Stark,” he said softly. “If you like someone, is it better to just tell them that, or show them?”

Tony blinked, inclining his head to one side. “Uh…show them how?” he asked.

“Like…should I just say that I like hi—I mean—” Peter reddened behind his mask. “Her. Should I tell her that I like her, or just…I don’t know…” He swallowed and shrugged. “Kiss her?”

A laugh punched out of Stark faster than he could smother it. He cleared his throat, pressing a hand to his chest and he fought back a smile. “That’s, ehem…a rather bold way to communicate your feelings to someone, I must say. A bit bolder than I’d ever expect from you of all people.” He stroked his thin beard pensively. “I’m not saying it’s the wrong way to go about it, but I am curious why you’d rather do that versus simply telling her how you feel.”

Peter gripped his neck with a grimace. “‘Cuz every time I try to say it, it’s like the words get stuck in the back of my throat. I can’t make them come out. And when I do manage to speak, I always end up saying something stupid and irrelevant instead. No matter how badly I want to tell her, it’s like I physically can’t.”

The Avenger chuckled lightly, eyes warm with sympathy. “That, I’m afraid, does not go away with age or time. Have you two been friends for a while now?”

Peter hunched his shoulders, diligently measuring every word before loosing it from his lips. “Not really. But…we are pretty close.” This was beginning to remind him a little too much of his phone call with his aunt.

“And do you think she likes you back?”

Peter blushed, pinching his eyes closed. “I mean…yeah. Kinda. Well, er—I don’t know.”

Stark nodded. “All right, that’s semi-promising. And you think the best way to confess your feelings to her is by just—swooping her off her feet and laying one on her, completely unannounced? No warning whatsoever?”

“No!” Peter squeaked, mortified. “That’s not—there’d be—some warning! A preceding statement of some sort!”

“Because past me is guilty of that kind of behavior, and I strongly advise against it.” He raised his index finger pointedly. “Consent is very important in any potentially romantic relationship. Has May talked to you about that yet? Or—yeesh, about any of it, for that matter? You know: the birds and the bees? The banana and the pomegranate? The train going through the tunnel? ‘Cuz I’d really prefer not being the one who has to—”

“Okay, stopping you there,” Peter blurted out frantically. “Yes. We’ve talked about it. I’m good. Thank you. Please don’t bring it up ever again.”

Stark held up his hands in surrender, biting back a grin. “Roger that. Just making sure we’ve got all our bases covered.”

Peter fiddled with his web-shooters to give his restless hands something to do. “So…you think it’s better if I just say it? Or maybe—write it down, or something?”

Tony pushed his jacket sleeves up his forearms and squinted at the ceiling. “I think…” he began, smirking, “that your darling little teenage brain might be overthinking all this. Just do what feels right in the moment. So long as it’s respectful and consensual, you can’t go wrong. Whatever it takes for you to tell her what you obviously need to tell her. You can’t really logic your way through feelings like this, kid. Love is anything but logical.”

Peter dropped his head back and sighed dolefully. That, he could attest to. Nothing about the way he felt or acted around Johnny Storm was in any way logical.

“Will I be getting to meet this crush of yours anytime soon?” Stark inquired curiously. “Or at least see a picture? Either one would really help me get back on your aunt’s good side. I’m in the doghouse until I have proof that my romantic mentorship is actually benefiting you.”

A soft smile found its way onto Peter’s lips. His gaze floated back to the broad windows. The last vestiges of Johnny’s smoke trail smudged the skyline like brushstrokes before evanescing from sight. Beneath the maw of gathering storm clouds lied his city, his playground, his path to him, bright and bold and beckoning.

“Maybe,” Peter eventually said. Something stirred within his rib cage, pulling him towards the glimmering possibilities beyond the walls of this tower. Heart thrumming, he pointed at the window and threw Tony a wave. “I gotta go find Johnny. Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

The Avenger watched bemusedly as Peter launched himself out of the tower, somersaulting through the air a couple times before catching himself on a thread of webbing and slingshotting around a neighboring skyscraper. A surge of alarm gushed through him, and Tony rushed to the window with his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Hey! Easy on the theatrics, kid! Just because your stitches are out doesn’t mean your wound’s done healing!”

Spider-Man disappeared into the cityscape without acknowledging him, his laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings. Stark exhaled in defeat as he ducked back into the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his chin towards the ceiling.

“Well? How did I do? How would you rate how l handled my first stab at teenage superhero romance mentorship?”

The A.I. let out a sigh. “I supposed it could’ve gone worse,” she conceded.

“I’ll take that as at least a C plus.”

_______________________________

Peter had almost forgotten how spectacular web-swinging through New York felt.

Although he was determined to find Johnny, Peter couldn’t help but spare a few moments to bask in the blood-pumping exhilaration that came with being Spider-Man, something he’d been cruelly deprived of while his gunshot wound finished healing. He careened through narrow alleyways, propelled himself into the heavens, sprung between rooftops, and flipped through the air until his head spun, the howling wind like music to his ears, his stiff muscles stirring from their slumber, his heightened senses coming alive. He whooped and laughed and surrendered to every reckless desire his body demanded, indulging in enough pulse-pounding, gravity-defying thrills to give an adrenaline junkie a heart attack.

And probably Mr. Stark, if he was still watching.

Once his hunger for action was satiated enough, Peter climbed to the top of the Flatiron building and knelt along the edge of the roof, breathing hard, scanning the skyline for any signs of a flaming, flying teenager. Whatever smoke clouds Johnny typically left in his wake had been lost to the breeze. Not a trace of him in any direction.

“Come on, Johnny,” Peter panted, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Where’d you go?”

He tried calling him again. Three voicemails and five text messages later, yet still no response. Dammit. Now what? Peter ground his teeth as he tucked his phone back in his suit, nauseous worry twisting in his gut. He was running out of viable options and leads fast.

“Spider-Man!”

The superhero flinched in alarm. The call had come from the street far beneath him. The voice sounded like a child’s.

“Spider-Man!” it bellowed again, screaming like their life depended on it. Peter’s head whipped towards the source of the cry: four dots standing at the base of the Flatiron building, waving their arms above their heads. “Down here!”

Tragically, children in trouble took priority over Peter’s quest to locate his friend. Johnny would have to wait.

Peter leapt off the rooftop, stuck to the side of the adjacent building, sprung into a backflip, then landed on the sidewalk in a low crouch. The four kids gaped as he rose to his feet, some holding drinks, others wearing backpacks and light-up sneakers.

“Are you guys all right?” Peter asked breathlessly, scanning each of them for injuries. “Are you lost? Is someone hurt? Do you need help? What can I do?”

For a few seconds, the children just stared at him like some kind zoo animal who’d escaped his enclosure. Then the shortest girl grabbed the hand of the tallest and squeezed it ‘til her fingers turned blue.

“He actually came! Oh my god! He’s actually here!”

“It’s really him,” the only boy of the group said no louder than a whisper, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Is this real? Is this real life?”

“We got you coffee!” the third girl blurted out completely unprompted. The tallest girl, who Peter realized was actually just a very short woman (not a child), looked absolutely flabbergasted.

“I—I can’t believe you came,” she stuttered out. “No way I thought you’d actually come down here.”

Peter gave an awkward giggle. “Well, you did shout my name at me louder than I thought humanly possible. Twice. I thought someone was in danger.”

The woman’s cheeks went scarlet. “Sorry. Really. I promise we weren’t trying to trick you. It’s just—” She ushered the children around her a step closer to him, whose eyes were galaxies of disbelief and wonder. “My kids are really big fans of yours.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to gawk. In all his days of Spider-Manning, Peter couldn’t recall ever being stopped by someone unless they wanted to beat him up, flip him off, or call him a menace. Or, occasionally, were in desperate need of his assistance. He certainly couldn’t remember the last time someone had called themselves a fan of his to his face. Spider-Man didn’t have any fans.

But now…

“I drew this picture for you!” the tiny girl squealed, fishing a crumpled piece of paper out of her backpack. She handed Peter a scribbly sketch of a red blob standing next to a purple blob surrounded by angry balls of black dust. “That’s you and me holding hands while you cover the bad guys in spiders!”

Spider-Man’s gaze shifted between the child and her terrible drawing, a little piece of his heart he hadn’t noticed was missing slowly wriggling back into place.

“Oh,” he said a few seconds later. “Wow. You—you made this? Really? For me?”

“I got you coffee!” the loud girl proclaimed, thrusting a cup into his chest. “It was supposed to be for our dad, but I want you to have it instead! Fighting crime is much more important than whatever he does on his computer all day!”

“I want to be you when I grow up!” the young boy beamed. “You’re my favorite superhero! Just like Johnny Storm!”

“We love you so much!”

Peter held the gifts and the children’s kind words close to his chest. Spider-Man had never asked for praise or gratitude from the people of his city, and scarcely ever received it. He was there to help whether they liked him or not; no strings attached. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, or saw heroes who were loved by the public as lesser or greater than himself. He just…never expected it to happen. Didn’t know how to respond to it when it did. Felt baffled and overwhelmed by it, like a guy winning first prize in a contest he didn’t even remember entering.

Maybe Johnny had been right before. Deep down, maybe Peter didn’t feel deserving of it. Two years of nothing but abhorrence and scorn had taught him what it meant to be Spider-Man. To protect his people, to defend his home, to sacrifice his blood and time and youth in pursuit of justice. To avenge his past, to save the world…and be hated for it. That was just his lot in life, and always would be. Peter would’ve carried on this way until his body failed him, until his veins were bled dry while the world rejoiced in his suffering, and would’ve been perfectly content with it. Maybe that wasn’t normal or healthy or right, but that was who he was. Who Spider-Man was.

But…maybe it didn’t have to be.

Peter tried to say something to the three kids and smiling mother standing before him, but found his throat closing up and his eyes starting to sting. He blinked, startled by his own reaction to such a silly and humble offering, the meaning behind it far more significant than they or any onlookers could ever know. The young hero swallowed thickly, honor and appreciation and embarrassment muddling together inside him and choking his wobbly voice.

“Thank you,” Spider-Man finally got out, forcing the broken words from his lips. The happy family’s grins immediately dropped, and a flush of bashfulness overtook him at how ridiculous he was being. “Sorry, so sorry. I’m not—I just—wasn’t expecting this. That’s all. It’s very sweet. And I’m—very grateful.” He covered his eye lenses with his forearm, trying not to spill the coffee or crush the girl’s drawing anymore than it already had been, laughing in spite of himself. “Oh god, this is so embarrassing. Please don’t post this anywhere. Johnny’s already tainted my digital footprint with enough humiliating content to haunt me for the next three lifetimes.”

“Lainie’s ugly drawing made Spider-Man sad!” the loud girl shouted at the small girl, causing Lainie to immediately burst into tears.

“Andrea!” the mom exclaimed. “Why would you say that?”

“‘Cuz it’s true!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! Don’t cry!” Spider-Man knelt in front of the weeping girl, uncrumpling the paper as much as was possible. “I think your drawing’s beautiful. That looks just like me! Especially after I’ve fought a bunch of bad guys who’ve thrown me into a brick wall a few times! I deeply admire and applaud your creative vision.” Peter held the crinkled paper out to her with a smile. “Would you sign it for me? Please? A piece this powerful deserves to be autographed by its creator.”

Still sniffling, Lainie dug a nubby crayon out of her backpack. She took the drawing, flattened it on the sidewalk, and scrawled her name in huge orange letters in the corner of the page, a few of her tears leaving wet spots on the paper. She swiped her hand under her nose and shyly offered the artwork back to Peter, who accepted it with an exaggerated gasp.

“It’s perfect,” Spider-Man declared, hugging it against his heart. “Thank you, Lainie.”

While Lainie giggled and skipped in place, Andrea stamped her foot. “What about my coffee? Isn’t it perfect, too? Try it!”

The girl’s mother sighed. “Sorry about her,” she said.

Peter crouched down to Andrea’s level. “You’re a very confident and outspoken person, Andrea. I like it. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that’s wrong.” He nodded towards Lainie. “Just try being a little nicer to your sister, okay? Use that strong voice of yours to stand up for her and protect her from bullies. That’s what superheroes do.”

Andrea gazed back at him, awe-struck, nodding fervently. “Okay! I will! I’ll protect her with my whole entire life!” She poked aggressively at the coffee cup in his hand. “Now drink it! It’s the best coffee in the world!”

Peter laughed. “The best? In the world? That’s a monumental endorsement coming from you. Let’s see if you’re right.” Spider-Man lifted up his mask and tilted the cup against his lips. It took every ounce of his self control not to immediately spew the coffee right back into all of the children’s faces. He clamped his eyes and mouth closed, gulping down the bitter liquid by sheer will power alone.

“Wow, that is just—straight black coffee, huh?” he rasped, a shudder rattling through him. “Whew. That is…bracing. No milk, no sugar, no syrup, no siree. Who needs all that garbage? Not your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Nope. Just piping hot bean juice straight down the hatch all day, every day. That is, without a doubt, the best cup of coffee in the world.” Peter turned to the children’s mother, lowering his voice an octave. “On an unrelated note, does your husband happen to hate himself?”

“Look! Over there!”

“It’s him! It’s Spider-Man!”

Peter glanced up sharply, muscles coiling on instinct. Typically, when someone shouted the words “Look, over there, it’s Spider-Man,” in that order, they were often followed by a bunch of curses and insults and fistfuls of trash being hurled in his direction, and he didn’t want the family of four to get caught in the crossfire.

A crowd was gathering around them, pressing in on all sides. Eyes and bodies and phone cameras had them pinned from every angle. Peter tugged his mask back over his chin and waited for his spider sense to go off, ready to take the full brunt of the assault.

“Spider-Man!” a man called out. “You’re back!”

“We missed you!”

“How’s your wound? Shouldn’t you still be resting?”

“We’re so glad you’re okay!”

“Do a flip!”

Gradually, Peter loosened his jaw and unclenched his fists, shrugging off his defensive stance bemusedly. “Uh…” he said, head swiveling left and right. “Hey, New York. I, er…missed you too?”

“We love you, Spidey!”

The crowd roared in agreement, their cheers and applause punting Peter’s heart straight into his throat. While he swept his wide-eyed gaze across the sea of shrieking fans, the young mother took her children by the hands and corralled them away from the congestion.

“We’re gonna go now,” she hollered above the clamor. “Thank you for taking time to meet them! They’ll never forget it. Say goodbye, kiddos!”

“Bye, Spider-Man!” the kids all bellowed in unison. Peter waved as the four of them wove towards the edge of the mob, retreating from view. The space they’d been occupying was immediately filled by the fans standing closest to him.

“Can you sign my shirt?”

“Can we take a picture with you?”

“You’re so cool!”

“I love your costume!”

“How old are you?”

“Is it true you punched Thanos in the face?”

“You’re a lot shorter in person!”

“Show us how you shoot your webs!”

Peter was not used to this volume of attention in the slightest. Maybe in the form of resentment and hostility, yet somehow this felt far more flustering. Flattering, but still flustering.

“Where’s Johnny?” someone shouted suddenly over the uproar, which helped ground Peter’s dizzied thoughts, reminding him why he was out here in the first place.

With a quick breath out, Peter sprung off the sidewalk and stuck to a nearby traffic light, a spur of exclamations and wide eyes following after him. He hung off the side of the beam, grateful for the breathing room.

“Uh, so…thanks everyone for your kindness!” he yelled to the masses, feeling incredibly out of his element. “I’m, um��not very good at this sort of thing, but I really appreciate it!”

The crowd cheered him on, which drew an incredulous laugh from the spider-themed hero. Never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself in a situation like this. Perhaps a lot of the public still saw him as a menace, but clearly the tides were starting to shift. All thanks to Johnny.

“I could actually really use your help!” Spider-Man went on. “I’m trying to track down Johnny Storm, AKA Flame Brain, AKA the Human Torch! Did anyone see him pass through here? Does anyone know where he is?”

A din of murmurs rumbled from the mob while they conferred with their friends and checked their phones. Half a minute passed, and Peter was ready to resign himself to scouring the city borough by borough, street by street, locating his friend by any means necessary, no matter how long it took.

Suddenly, a hand shot up into the air, flailing aggressively back and forth. “He’s at the Statue of Liberty!” the owner hollered. “A video of him landing on the crown was just posted to Twitter six minutes ago!”

The crowd buzzed with excitement as more and more people verified and corroborated her claim. “Yes!” a second fan cried. “He’s there!”

“The Statue of Liberty!”

“Here’s a photo of him on it posted two minutes ago!”

“He’s definitely there!”

The mass of people cheered again, and Peter scoffed with shock and relief. “Man, I love social media,” he chuckled. “And New Yorkers.” The masked hero grinned as he shot a line of webbing at the top of the nearest building, throwing one last wave to the hordes of fans and passersby. “Thank you so much! I owe you all big time!”

The crowds went wild as Spider-Man sprung off the traffic light and swung low through the street, gaining speed as he gunned it for lower Manhattan. But right at the apex of his swing, Peter spotted a man sitting alone on a bench, opening a tin of mints. The superhero switched trajectories in an instant.

“Oh! Hey!” he called out, whipping around and dropping to the curb beside him. The man jumped like Peter had stuck him with a thumb tack. “Could I maybe swipe one of those off you? I can trade you for it! One mint in exchange for the best cup of coffee in the world!”

The man balked at him. “Um…” he said. “Sure? I guess?” He plucked a mint from the box and held it out to him gingerly.

“You’re my hero!” Spider-Man chirped. “I could kiss you! I won’t, though—I’m saving that for someone else!”

He swapped him for the coffee cup, then launched back into the air, pirouetting between each flick of his wrist, popping the mint into his mouth. “Have a spectacular day!” he cried. As Peter thwipped down the road, he swore he heard the man coughing and spitting far behind him.

It took him about six minutes to make it to the southernmost edge of Manhattan. Spider-Man crawled to the top of the building closest to the shoreline, squinting at the teeny-tiny silhouette of Lady Liberty plastered against the glistening waters of Upper Bay. Ellis Island was closer to Jersey than New York, but he didn’t want to waste any more time swinging all the way there, and taking a ferry or bus or taxi would likely wind up just as tedious. If he got enough momentum and caught a lucky updraft, Peter was sure he could make it.

Spider-Man traveled back half a dozen blocks down Broadway to give himself a sort of runway leading straight to the statue. He mapped out his path, accounting for the speed and direction of the wind, how tall Lady Liberty was, and how far he had to coast in order to reach her without taking a plunge into the bay. After running all the calculations, Peter figured he had about a 33% chance of successfully landing on the island.

Eh. He’d beaten worse odds.

It was an unusually cool afternoon for a summer day in New York City. Dense packs of clouds blotted out the sun, and there was a chill in the breeze that felt heavenly after weeks of blistering heat. Peter stood at one end of a tall building’s rooftop, rolling his neck and shaking out his shoulders, doing his best to hype himself up.

“You got this,” he whispered. “You got this. Okay. Ready? Three, two, one—!”

Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth, then broke into an all-out sprint. His feet pounded against the concrete; his pulse pounded in his ears. At the opposite lip of the roof, Spider-Man dove off the building, barreling towards the earth like a human torpedo, waiting until he could see the whites of pedestrians' eyes before snatching himself back into the sky on a perfectly timed web-line. He swung in harmony with his city, using each skyscraper and dizzying drop as a pendulum for gathering more speed, more momentum, more height.

As he approached the end of his urban runway, Spider-Man dipped between the cars jamming either side of the street, then catapulted himself skyward as high and far as gravity would concede. The moment he reached the tallest point of his swing, Peter pressed the spider symbol on his chest thrice in a row, then threw his arms out at his sides. Translucent web-wings stretching from his wrists to his hips peeled out of his costume under both of his armpits, mimicking the look and function of a flight suit. Or, as Peter had eagerly pointed out upon seeing the design for the first time, a flying squirrel.

The wings buoyed him high above the world, slowing his descent, extending the distance he could breach without the use of his web-shooters. Far beneath the teen hero, Manhattan gave way to dark waters and white-capped waves. He strained his arms to stay locked in place, watching his shadow skirt across the top of the choppy surf.

“Almost there,” he told himself, the looming statue filling more and more of his field of vision. “Almost there.”

Peter was a little over half a mile out to sea when the winds suddenly shifted, making him wobble and drop a few feet. The breeze was now working against him rather than for him. He was moving slower and falling faster. Fear blossomed in his veins as he watched the black water rush towards him from below. I’m not gonna make it, he realized.

Peter lifted his gaze to the top of the Statue of Liberty. “Johnny!” he cried, bobbing to and fro like a kite caught in a tornado. “Johnny, I’m here! I need—aaahh!”

A rogue gale slammed into Spider-Man from the left, sending him spinning sideways out of control. The young hero hit the water with a muffled scream, the cold piercing him down to the bone. He kicked for the surface and burst from the waves, gasping for breath, only to choke down a mouthful of saltwater instead. A powerful swell had crashed on top of him the instant he’d tried to breach.

His mask made it feel like he was being waterboarded. The surf was too rough for him to stay afloat for more than a few seconds. His muscles were petrified by ice and terror. This would be a really embarrassing way for Spider-Man to die, he told himself, but that reality was growing a little too plausible for comfort a little too fast. All landmasses looked impossibly far away for him to reach via swimming. He was alone and exhausted and starting to panic. Shit. Peter Parker was going to drown to death. Right as the world was finally beginning to like him. Right before he could tell his crush how much he cared about him.

How heartlessly poetic.

As hope began to shrivel in Peter’s waterlogged lungs, a hand suddenly plunged through the waves and seized him by the wrist. Spider-Man’s arm nearly wrenched out of its socket as something ripped him from the ocean’s deadly clutches. Peter broke the surface hacking and wheezing, then raised his woozy gaze to his rescuer. An angel dipped in gold and starlight stared back at him, bathed in divine beauty far beyond this realm, and Peter wondered if he really was in fact dead.

“What the actual fuck are you doing, you moron?!”

Peter coughed up a bubble of saltwater and blinked his bleary eyes, the flame-engulfed scowl of Johnny Storm gradually slurring into focus. He held his livid, magnetic gaze for a beat, a feeble smile touching Spider-Man’s lips.

“You w-weren’t answering your phone,” he replied meekly. “I had to reach you somehow.”

“By almost drowning yourself?” Johnny shot back. “I left my phone back at the tower, dumbass! I came here to be alone!”

“I was w-worried about you,” Peter said, shivering in his sopping wet spandex. Johnny gave the pitiful superhero a quick once-over, frown softening slightly, then sighed.

“You could’ve died,” he scolded him. Johnny lifted Peter away from the inky black water, flying the pair of them towards the top of Lady Liberty. “Come on—before you freeze to death.”

The Human Torch set Peter on his feet on the backside of the statue’s head, just behind her crown. Johnny hovered in front of Spider-Man as the arachnid-themed hero trembled in place, arms tucked in close to his body, a puddle of sea water collecting underneath him. The unexpected cold front that had overtaken the city for the day suddenly didn’t feel like such a blessing as a whip of frigid wind lashed through him, sending shudders racing down his spine. Still engulfed in flames, Johnny watched Peter shrink against the breeze with a wrinkle between his eyes, like he was debating whether it was morally irresponsible to let him die of hypothermia or not.

“I’m s-sorry for coming after you when you w-wanted to be alone,” Peter told him through chattering teeth. “But…it’s important, b-because I—I really needed to t-tell you…I r-really n-needed to show you th-that I—I’m—”

“Stop talking,” Johnny cut in, dousing his flames with a huff. He marched up to Peter and seized him by the elbow, hauling him to the flattest part of Lady Liberty’s scalp and forcing him to sit. Butterflies tickled Peter’s insides as Johnny nestled in behind him and wrapped his arms around his chest and midsection, resting his chin on Spider-Man’s shoulder with his inner legs pressed against the outsides of Peter’s. The chilly hero suddenly found himself enveloped by Johnny Storm like a cloak of warmth and sunshine, the heat from his skin driving out the biting cold.

“Oh,” Peter exhaled involuntarily, the ice in his veins slowly beginning to defrost. “Oh wow, th-that’s better. But you—y-you don’t have to—”

“Don’t make it weird,” Johnny retorted, his lips dangerously close to Peter’s ear. “I’m only doing this so you won’t turn into a spider-popsicle. We’ve gotta get your body temperature back up to normal.”

Spider-Man swallowed nervously. “R-right,” he murmured. His muscles were cold and rigid against Johnny’s soft, comforting touch. The front side of the flaming hero’s torso was flush along the full length of Peter’s spine, seeping warmth into the entirety of his back. His palms pressed into Peter’s chest and belly, transforming the freezing water soaked through his costume into swirling tendrils of steam.

They sat that way for a while, the winds gushing, the clouds roiling, the waves sloshing against the vacant shores of the island. Johnny breathed in deep and held him close, the supernatural heat of his skin driving the shivers from Peter's bones.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it,” the Human Torch said eventually, shattering the long stretch of silence hanging between them. “But I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.” He loosed a steady breath. “I just…needed to get out of that tower. After I…after, y’know, hearing the news, I wanted to be somewhere I could gather my thoughts. Somewhere I could go full supernova without putting anyone in danger, if it came to that. Ellis Island is closed for construction, so I figured the bay would be a good spot.” He turned his gaze to the New York skyline on their right. “Views aren’t bad, either.”

Peter dug his fingers into his kneecaps, trying to keep his legs from shaking. “The news about Sam?” he inquired.

Johnny took his time answering. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “Sam.”

“Can I ask…what happened? W-with you and him?”

The Human Torch moved to rest his chin on Peter’s other shoulder, humming softly in thought. “It’s…” He groaned. “Y’know. Complicated.”

“I can handle complicated,” Peter assured him.

“And embarrassing.”

“I just s-swallowed a gallon of seawater and almost drowned myself trying to glide to the Statue of Liberty like a flying squirrel,” Spider-Man reminded him. “Embarrassing is my middle name.”

A clipped laugh escaped Johnny. “Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Just…please don’t share any details about this with anyone. Okay?”

Peter mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. “Promise.”

A brisk blast of wind buffeted the two heroes, sending goosebumps prickling across Peter’s flesh. Johnny cleared his throat, cinching his arms a little tighter around Spider-Man’s trembling body.

“I first met him a few days after we launched into space,” Johnny began solemnly. “Me, Sue, Reed, and Ben had left Earth’s atmosphere in our ship and positioned ourselves in the ideal orbital path of the cosmic event we were hoping to study. We were getting settled and going over the timeline, all of us under the assumption that we were the only people up there interested in or even capable of observing it. Until there was a knock on our ship’s window.”

Peter listened curiously, trying not to let the closeness of Johnny distract him from his story.

“Imagine our surprise seeing a guy outside our spacecraft. Just—floating around, totally untethered, in outer space. He had this strange helmet on and a thin suit protecting his body, but we had no idea how that was enough to keep him alive, or how the hell he’d gotten there.

“After some heated debate, we decided to let him onto the ship. The guy introduced himself as Sam Alexander, a 17-year-old kid from Earth who’d spent the last year training in the Nova Corps on the planet Xandar.” Johnny tapped a finger against his chest. “I know that sounds like total sci-fi made up bullshit, but bear with me. Sam said he’d been sent back to Earth by the other Novas to observe the same cosmic event we were studying and make sure it didn’t cause any harm to his home planet. When we told him about our mission to collect samples and data from the particle cloud, he offered to help in any way he could.”

Peter had a lot of thoughts and questions cropping up already, but figured it best to keep them to himself until Johnny finished speaking. He balled his frozen fists against the statue and kept his mouth shut.

“He worked with us as we prepared for the event to arrive over the next three weeks. We did everything together, and it didn’t take long for he and I to grow really close. He told me about his life on Xandar, how he went from a regular teenager on Earth to a superhero fighting intergalactic wars in space. He showed me the incredible things he could do when he wore the Nova helmet, like flying between planets without a space suit on, creating portals, manipulating gravity, even fucking telekinesis. I'd had, like, zero exposure to people with superpowers at that point in my life, and had never met anyone from a planet other than Earth, so all of it felt so…I don't know. Magical. Like my eyes were finally opened to just how big the universe is. Like I was meeting someone who had leapt right from the pages of a fantasy novel. I cherished every second we spent together, and never wanted the mission to come to an end. As our bond deepened and the cosmic event drew closer, I realized I…”

Johnny fell silent. Peter felt the celebrity’s throat bob against his shoulder. A low growl of thunder rumbled above them. The sound of waves crashing against the island echoed faintly in the distance.

“I realized I liked him more than a friend.”

Peter’s heart stuttered in his chest at his words, but he didn’t dare speak. Wasn’t sure what he’d say if he did. That single sentence sure held a lot. Answers and confessions and surprises and questions—too many for Peter to comment on without potentially scaring Johnny into discontinuing his story. No. His input wasn’t needed right now. Johnny deserved to say this however he wanted, without interruption.

“I’ve, um…” Johnny stated, nerves straining his voice. He pulled back from Peter suddenly, shifting to sit beside him instead, making the spider-themed hero immediately miss the celebrity’s warm, protective embrace. He sat on Peter’s right, hugging his knees to his chest. Spider-Man bundled his limbs in close to himself, battling the shudders that reclaimed his body seconds after losing his sentient heated blanket.

“I’ve…known since I was really young who I was and what I wanted," Johnny explained quietly. "I’ve only ever had crushes on boys, and I was lucky enough to be raised by a mom who taught me that was nothing to be ashamed of. My dad…well, that’s a whole different story, but he at least didn’t outright shun me for it.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, like he was afraid of what he might find if he looked Peter in the eye. “I’ve never tried to hide who I am, but I stopped being as open about that side of myself after I told Sam I liked him.” Shadows shuttered across his expression. “He was…furious. It brought out a side of him I’d never seen before. He thought the only reason I’d befriended him was so I could, in his words, ‘trick the first superhero I met into fucking me.’”

Peter felt himself wince. Even though his skin was cold as ice, the blood moving beneath it suddenly felt white-hot.

“I tried telling him it wasn’t like that at all. I liked Sam a lot, so obviously I would’ve been sad if he said he didn’t feel the same. But I would’ve gotten over it and stopped pursuing him in that way for the sake of our friendship. That was more important to me than anything. I didn’t want to throw our entire relationship away just because I developed a crush. I cared about him too much to do that.” Johnny hid his face behind his knees, trying and failing to conceal his tears. “But I guess it wasn’t the same for him. He couldn’t see past it. I never would’ve told him I liked him if I knew how quickly it’d tear us apart. He said he never wanted to see me again, and made sure from that point on he didn’t.”

Johnny’s shoulders started to shake, and Peter couldn’t stand being silent any longer. He inched closer to him, laying his palm on his arm.

“Johnny—” Peter began, but the Human Torch flinched from his touch.

“Wait,” he said, angling away from him with his eyes squeezed shut, curling into himself even further. “Just—let me finish first. Please.”

Instantly, Peter withdrew his hand, guilt constricting around his heart. Johnny blew out a breath, the intensifying winds whistling between them, then continued.

“The cosmic storm wasn’t supposed to come until the end of the month, but it arrived a week earlier than anyone expected and was triple the size Reed had predicted. It hit us the same day Sam stopped speaking to me. Sam had flown back to Earth to visit his mom when the dust struck our ship, and he showed up just in time to stop us from crash landing in the Pacific Ocean. He used his powers to get me and my friends back on the planet in one piece.” He grimaced. “At least—that’s what I was told. I was knocked unconscious the moment the cosmic rays hit and didn’t wake up until two days later.”

Johnny splayed his legs out flat and leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the bloated clouds overhead. “I’m grateful that he saved us. I have to be. But the things he said to me that day have haunted me ever since. He was the first person I had a really serious crush on. He was also, ironically, the first person who made me feel true shame for that part of myself. Now that I’ve finally pieced my life back together after everything that happened with him and the mission and getting powers and all, suddenly—he’s back? And he’s asking to see me again? Why? I don’t understand it.” Johnny turned to him helplessly, eyes welling with tears. “W-what do you think? What should I do?”

Peter took the cue as a sanction to speak now, if he so desired. He kept his distance, though—despite how deep the cold was permeating his cells and how warm Johnny Storm looked. He thumbed through the lofty pages of lore Johnny had shared with him today—once, twice, thrice. It took him a minute to find the words that felt the most right to say.

“It sounds like Sam really hurt you,” Peter said, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. “And if you don’t want to see him again, I think that’s okay. You don’t owe him anything, and just because he’s asking to see you doesn’t mean he deserves to.” A candle of fear flickered inside Peter’s chest as he realized what the next thing he planned to say might lead to. But he didn't let that stop him from continuing. “It is possible he may want to speak now because he’s sorry about what happened between you two and is hoping to make amends. A lot’s changed with you since that day—so maybe a lot’s changed with him, too.” Peter tucked both hands under his armpits, trying to bring some feeling back into his numb fingers. “But m-maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he’s still an asshole, and you’re better off keeping your distance. You know him better than I ever will. You’re the best person to make that call.”

Johnny kept his eyes on the sky above them, a look of tranquility settling across his graceful features. A soft breeze rippled through his reddish-gold hair. Peter admired him longingly from where he sat, wanting to drop-kick anyone who’d ever caused him harm. Even if Sam had changed his tune since the last time they’d spoken, Peter hoped the two of them never met. The gnawing urge to clock him in the nose for how he’d treated Johnny might prove too difficult for his waning empathy to subdue. When the Human Torch finally turned towards Spider-Man, his tears were dry and his lips were curved into a small but genuine smile.

“You’re a good friend, Spidey,” Johnny said softly, criss-crossing his legs with his hands in his lap. “I hope your talk with your crush goes better than mine did.”

Peter’s body stiffened, heartbeat revving like a freshly jumped car. “My—what?” he stammered out, reeling.

Johnny tilted his head slightly to the left. “That superhero girl Stark mentioned,” he reminded him. “The one he said you should ask on a date. Aren’t you gonna talk to her?”

Spider-Man recalled then what Johnny had overheard, but it wasn’t relief he felt this time. Just…heaviness. Weariness. His heart wilting in his chest once again.

“Oh,” Peter said, confused and conflicted. He lowered his gaze to his feet. “Right. That.”

Was it time to correct that little misunderstanding?

“You should talk to her,” Johnny encouraged him. “I’d bet anything she likes you back. You’re a total catch, and she’d be lucky to be with you. Don’t let my clusterfuck of a love life deter you from going after what you want. I have the worst taste in romantic partners. Just ask Sue.”

Peter was only half-listening to what Johnny was saying. His mind was preoccupied with the same dilemma he’d been wrestling with since late last night—or rather, if he was being honest with himself, since the day he recognized his feelings for Johnny for what they truly were. At this point, Peter had abandoned the should he or should he not quandary. Now, it was purely a question of execution. It all made sense now: why Johnny never dared confess his feelings to Spider-Man. He’d done this all before already, and look how marvelous that turned out for him. The news of Peter’s supposed crush on some nonexistent superhero girl must’ve dealt the final blow to any hopes he might’ve harbored of a potential romance budding between them. He’d given up. Thrown in the towel. Deigned to support Peter’s alleged romantic interest because he was committed to being his friend, and that’s what good friends did.

Well, respectfully, fuck friendship, Peter thought. He was ready for something more.

He was done playing it safe. He was done denying himself because he didn’t feel worthy. This was his moment to grab hold of what he wanted with both hands and pull.

Limbs shivering from more than just the cold, Spider-Man pushed off the ground and rose to his feet. A light drizzle had started to fall, negating all of Johnny’s previous efforts to warm him up and dry him off. Peter curled his hands into icy fists at his sides, stomping down his fears as they rose like bile in his throat, his heart beating somewhere outside his body. He set his jaw, then whirled on Johnny sharply.

“I’m gonna tell you something!” he shouted at him—so much louder than he meant to. But he was too focused on just getting the words out to worry about what volume that happened to be at. “I don’t—I’m not sure how, but I am! Right now.”

Johnny blinked at him perplexedly. “All right…” he said, a suspicious wrinkle dimpling along his brow. He looked somber and somewhat bored while Peter’s heart was threatening to implode from anticipation.

Peter hopped on his toes, did a lap around Lady Liberty’s head, gave himself the world’s meanest internal pep talk, then planted himself back in front of Johnny, clapping a hand over his eyes.

“Okay—I’m not gonna tell you something!” Peter decided, voice cracking. “But I am gonna show you something, if you’re okay with that!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Johnny laughed cheerlessly. He rose upright, standing across from the spider-themed hero with a hand on his hip. “Did you swallow too much seawater or something? Do I need to fly you home?”

Peter felt like he was boiling in his own blood. He was blushing so hard, he wondered if he might actually be running a mild fever. Could a person die from being so hopelessly lovestruck yet terrified to say it? Maybe he’d be the first.

Spider-Man dragged his hands down his face and groaned at the sky. “Okay, okay—how ‘bout this,” he proposed frenetically. He lowered his arms and took a step closer to Johnny, knees threatening to give out underneath him. “Could I just—can I try something? And then, if you don’t like it, I promise I’ll never do it ever again? We can both forget it ever happened, and just continue on with our lives without ever mentioning it. Or, if you really don’t like it, you could even punch me afterwards! Or burn a handprint into my forehead! Whatever makes you feel properly repaid for my transgressions against you. You have my blessing to do what you gotta do to make things even. Does that sound good?”

Johnny’s bland amusement was starting to pitch towards concern. “I’m confused about what's happening right now,” he admitted. “What are you wanting to do?”

Peter flexed and unflexed his damp palms at his sides. “It’s…a surprise?” he offered weakly, then sighed. “But I need your permission to do it. Before I…y’know. Surprise you.”

Johnny scoffed, crossing his arms tight against his chest. “Um…okay,” he conceded warily. “You have my permission to…surprise me, I guess.”

Rain pinged against the algae-green metal of the massive statue they both stood on. Droplets slithered down Peter’s eye lenses, blurring his field of view. His body felt blazing hot yet glacier cold all at once.

“Okay,” Peter squeaked out. “Cool.” He could not believe he was about to do this. He took another step closer to him, then retreated back skittishly, his bashfulness almost too much to bear, Johnny’s strikingly beautiful gaze too intently focused on him. Peter interlaced his hands together in front of his chest. “Could you maybe, um…close your eyes? Please?”

Johnny searched his masked face. Something new flashed in his blueish-gray irises. Something…fearful? Peter wasn’t quite sure. Nonetheless, he obeyed.

Mist blanketed Johnny’s skin like early morning dew. His hair stuck to his forehead in messy, criss-crossing strands. Tiny raindrops sparkled in eyelashes. Peter expelled all the air from his lungs. He raised his trembling fingers to his chin and carefully rolled his mask above his mouth. The roaring of his pulse replaced all sound as the young hero stepped forward, eyes dropping to Johnny’s lips. Those freckly, grotesquely perfect lips. He wasn’t deserving of them, of this, but there was no backing out now. What should he do with his hands? He opted to let them hang uselessly at his sides. Should he have put chapstick on? This was taking too long. Goddammit, Parker. Come on! No more stalling, hiding, making excuses. Peter swallowed harshly, then forced his eyes shut. He prayed his heart wouldn’t give out on him as he slowly leaned forward.

“Are you…about to kiss me?”

Peter’s muscles seized as his eyes popped open. Johnny Storm stared back at him, their lips mere inches apart, his face the picture of disbelief. All the moxy left him in an instant. Peter reared back, doubt and terror flushing through him.

“N-not if you don’t want me to,” he said thinly.

“You’re serious?” Johnny asked, looking a bit panicked. “You—you’re not just joking around right now?”

Like the crack of a hammer to his temple, Peter realized he’d read this all wrong. Utterly, horribly wrong. Johnny didn’t like him back. He never had. He had confided in Peter about his past romantic woes because Peter was his friend, and he trusted him. Not because it had any connection or correlation to their own relationship. Johnny had finally felt safe enough to open up to him about his sexuality, and what was the first thing Peter did in response? Assume Johnny had a crush on him like the selfish asshole he was. Simply because they were both boys, both sixteen, and both in each other’s general proximity. How could he be so cruel? So insensitive? He wondered how many times this had happened to him before. Befriending a fan in hopes of forming a true bond, only for them to turn around and treat him like a shiny prize for the taking. Peter was no different and no better than the masses and hordes of others who clamored after Johnny Storm, itching to snag fistfuls of his sunshine for themselves.

Peter staggered back from him even more, heart guttering with shame. “I’m sorry,” he said, invisible fingers closing around his throat. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Johnny balked, clearly still in shock from his betrayal. He took a step towards him, extending a hand. “Webs—”

“I messed up. I’m so sorry, Johnny. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t—” Guilt stole his voice away. He turned his back to him, every breath a dagger to his lungs. He felt like he was drowning all over again. “I’ll leave now. Just please don’t—”

Something grasped his arm and spun him around faster than Peter could blink. Whatever appeals and apologies still dangled on the tip of his tongue were smothered to death by a pair of lips crashing into his own. The world lurched and swayed around him, then fell away all at once. Johnny cupped a hand against the back of his head and pulled him in closer, kissed him fiercer, his mouth gentle yet ravenous as it traipsed across Peter’s. It was the first kiss of his life that had Spider-Man seeing stars.

When the two of them finally came up for air, they held each other in their hands and gazes, the drizzle overhead paring open into an all-out downpour, and laughed. The rain pounded and the wind roared, but neither of them could care less. Peter felt mired in a dream or the final frame of a movie in the best way imaginable. Johnny pressed his forehead against his, the wild throb of his heartbeat singing in Peter’s ears. His bubbly giggles quickly morphed into sobs.

“I thought you were straight!” Johnny exclaimed, interlacing Spider-Man’s fingers with his own.

“I thought you were straight!” Peter shot back, dazed with mirth, laughing.

“You thought I was straight?” Johnny wept, tears and raindrops bleeding together as they slid down his cheeks. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Johnny!” Peter giggled, cradling his face in his palms. “Why are you crying?”

The Human Torch shook his head, a beautiful, blubbery mess. “I just—I didn’t think you felt the same,” he sniffled. “I thought it was just me. I was so afraid that—”

“Me too,” Peter assured him, still giggling. He couldn’t seem to stop giggling.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Johnny told him, breathless with joy. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

"Really?" Peter practically squealed. Shock and delight undulated from his heart in tsunami-sized waves. “Same here! I'm just—I can't believe that you—all this time, it was actually both of us who were feeling—" Giggles swallowed up his words, but he was too thrilled and starry-eyed for it to embarrass him much. He pressed his face closer to Johnny's, their noses brushing. "When did you realize you liked me?”

Johnny’s cheeks blazed with color, and Peter noticed then the tiny, rosy flames lapping off his shoulders, hissing in the pelting rain. “Probably since you kicked my ass in front of everyone during our spar,” he admitted, averting his eyes with a sheepish smile. “What about you?”

Peter bit the inside of cheek, immediately regretting the question. Blush veiled his flesh like a second skin. “Before we even met,” he said through a cough. He saw the smug retort building in Johnny from a mile away and jabbed a finger into his chest. “But I didn’t officially know it was a crush until much more recently. I didn’t understand my feelings back then. I didn’t even know I liked guys like that.”

“When did you know you liked guys?” Johnny pressed him a little too fervidly. Peter groaned, realizing the hole he’d dug himself into far too late.

“Around...like…four days ago…?” he mumbled, wincing. Johnny’s eyes brightened fiendishly.

“Hold up,” he said, cupping a hand under Peter’s chin, trailing his thumb along his jawline. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His grin was as blinding as a thousand suns. His touch was turning his legs to putty. “Did meeting me turn you gay?”

Peter scoffed, clawing free of his spell, snatching Johnny’s hand away from his face. “You didn’t turn me gay,” he insisted, rolling his eyes.

“But I made you realize you were gay,” he remarked proudly. “I was your gay awakening.”

“I’m bi, actually,” Peter corrected him.

“Only because my handsome face and irresistible charm lured you to the dark side,” he forged on, winking at him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You’re a dick,” Peter giggled. Baffling happiness and devastating relief swirled together like whirlpools in the masked hero's belly. It wasn't just me, Peter's dizzied mind repeated again and again, grasping tight to Johnny's wrist with his right hand while digging his thumbnail into the palm of his left; just to make sure this wasn't some cruel dream or twisted trick of his imagination. Johnny likes me back. We both like each other that way. He stared into his eyes of lapis lazuli and wondered just how virtuous his past life must've lived for him to be so damn lucky in this one.

“I’m glad all the work I put into winning you over wasn't wasted,” Johnny beamed. “You certainly took your time making a move, Webs. Was I not laying it on thick enough? I was hardly being subtle.”

Peter hunched his shoulders. “I thought being flirty was just your personality,” he explained skittishly.

“It is to a certain extent! But I was practically throwing myself at you! Homemade meals, personalized gift baskets, calling you hot to your face on at least seven separate occasions. What more did you want from me?”

Peter laughed into his palms. “I’m sorry! I just figured that’s how you treat all your friends. I didn’t want to assume anything!”

“Well, you should have! You had me questioning my game, Spidey! I thought I’d lost my edge!”

Peter felt giddy as a child on his first trip to Disney World. He rubbed at the back of his neck, the residual warmth of Johnny’s lips pressed against his own still setting off fireworks in his belly. “Trust me,” he said. “You’ve got plenty of game. Maybe too much for my liking. I’m no good at any of this.”

Johnny chuckled. “You flung yourself in the ocean just ‘cuz you were worried about me. That’s plenty romantic. Dangerous and idiotic, but still romantic.” He smiled at Peter from ear to ear, slicking back his hair with his fingers, then frowned. “Wait. So what was all that stuff Stark was saying about you having a crush on some superhero girl? Was that true?”

Peter's ears went pink. “Oh. Right.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “That was about you, actually.”

A line formed between Johnny’s eyebrows. “I’m the superhero girl?”

“I tried telling my aunt about you, but when I mentioned I had a crush on another superhero, she assumed it was a girl. I’m not out to her yet, so I panicked and just played along. Then she talked to Mr. Stark about it, who also doesn’t know I’m bi, and now it’s snowballed into this big lie I’m having to sustain with everyone.”

Delight flashed across Johnny’s features. “You told your aunt about me?”

Peter giggled shyly. “Yeah. She and I are really close. We tell each other about everything going on in our lives. I wanted her to know about you and offer any advice she had, but it all kinda ended up backfiring.” The masked hero shivered, soaked from head to toe. “I feel bad lying to her, but I’m scared the truth could…I don’t know. Change our relationship.”

Johnny’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Who all knows you’re bi?”

Peter shrugged. “Just you and my best friend.”

“Oh, wow. So, like—hardly anyone.” Johnny tried wiping the raindrops off his chin with his sleeve, but his costume was just as wet as his face, so all it did was smear long trails of droplets across his skin.

“Who knows about you?” Peter prompted him in return. Johnny snickered.

“Well. Most of the general public speculates I’m some form of queer, just from—y’know. The way that I am.” He tucked a strand of dripping hair behind his ear. “But the only people I’ve told outright are Sue, Reed, and Ben.”

A coil of anxiety wound through Peter’s ribs. “Does it bother you? Having all these strangers discuss your sexuality all the time?”

Johnny pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not really. I actually find it entertaining. It’s fun to keep the fans and the paparazzi guessing. Sometimes I’ll go on fake dates with my lesbian friends just to throw everyone off and see what kind of headlines come out of it. It’s shocking how gullible some people can be.”

Peter felt himself redden a little. He’d definitely fallen for one too many of those click-baity tabloids in the past. “And are your teammates…supportive of you?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. They don’t care. I give them far worse things to worry about than what gender I prefer making out with.” A sly smile curled along his lips as Johnny pressed closer to him, hands sliding around his waist to weave together against the small of Spider-Man’s back, kicking the teen’s pulse into overdrive. “Speaking of which, do I have your permission to kiss you again? Because I’d really like to, if that’s okay with you.”

Spurred by uncharacteristic boldness and clarity, Peter answered his question by throwing his arms around his neck and planting his lips on Johnny’s, giggling as he did it. The Human Torch had stolen their first kiss from him; and, as resplendent as it’d been, Peter wasn’t gonna let him nab the second as well. Not on his watch.

A little squeak of surprise came from Johnny, followed by a flash of heat. When Peter pulled away from him, his whole scalp was lit ablaze, eyes wide and cheeks pink.

“You have my permission from now until your sister or some other vengeful force of the universe strikes me dead,” Peter told him, glowing from the inside out. He snickered at the flames billowing off his head. “Did I do that?”

Johnny glanced up in surprise, then frantically smothered his scalp with his palms. “Shut up,” he giggled sheepishly. “I can’t help it.”

“Are you gonna light on fire every time I kiss you?” Peter inquired, standing on his tiptoes to peck him on the nose. The flames he’d extinguished instantly roared back to life, spreading down his shoulders and arms this time.

“Spidey!” Johnny exclaimed, jumping back from him, flustered and laughing. “Cut it out! I could burn you!”

“But it’s so cute!” Peter beamed. “Totally worth the risk of a pre-mortem cremation. I’ll take my chances.”

Johnny smacked his shoulders until the flames died down, rolling his eyes, unable to mask his radiant smile. Peter wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm, as cold and wet as a New York sewer rat.

“So…” Peter mused, grinning up at him bashfully. “What now?”

Johnny shook out his hair like a golden retriever after a bath. “What do you mean?” he said, mirroring his smile.

Peter pulled his mask back over his chin. “I mean…I like you. A lot. And as much as I’d like to galavant across New York, kissing you on top of every iconic fixture of the city…” A knot of shame formed in his stomach. Peter licked his lips. “I’m just…not sure I’m ready for the world to know about this part of myself yet. It’s all still so new to me.” He grabbed Johnny’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It has nothing to do with you, I just—”

“It’s all right,” Johnny assured him. “I get it.”

“And with Fisk watching us, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we��”

“You don’t have to give me a million reasons for it, Webs. I’m okay with keeping it under wraps. I understand.”

Peter swallowed, guilty with relief. “What about our teammates?”

“We don’t have to tell them either, if you’re not ready for it. We don’t have to tell anyone. Nobody has to know until you want them to.” Johnny pressed a kiss to his forehead, lighting sparklers inside Peter’s chest. “As long as I get to be with you, I don’t care. We’ll keep it a secret for as long as you need.”

Peter smiled until his cheeks ached, overflowing with warmth despite the arctic temperature of his skin. “Thanks, Flame Brain,” he said, voice brittle.

Johnny lifted his lips off Peter’s mask and grimaced. “Hiding it from my people might be extra difficult, though. Especially Reed and Sue.”

“Why’s that?” Peter asked.

Johnny winced. “Reed…kinda already guessed that you might like me. And that I liked you. He called me out on it a few days ago and encouraged me to approach you ‘cuz he thought there was a good chance you liked me back. He’s an obnoxiously observant and nosy bastard.” He sighed. “And he tells Sue everything.”

Peter bristled at the idea of someone seeing through his disguise so easily. Granted, Reed was a certified, world-renowned genius, but still. He’d read him like a book without even trying, as if the words “Please Kiss Me Johnny Storm” were tattooed across his forehead. Were Peter’s feelings for Johnny really that obvious? How long before the rest of Avengers Tower exposed his poorly veiled secret? How long before the entire world did?

“We’ll just have to be extra careful when we’re around them,” Johnny decided, cracking a smile. “Maybe we can fake-argue whenever they’re in the same room as us. I could pretend I randomly turned into a Daily Bugle fan and accuse you of whatever insane shit Jonah is rambling on about that day. Or you could call me a self-obsessed snob with a god complex and mommy issues.”

Peter busted into a laugh. “I don’t want them to think we hate each other! Jesus! Let’s just act like we’re friends and avoid doing anything that might convince them otherwise.” He gave Johnny’s shoulder a playful punch. “Two totally platonic, exceedingly heterosexual super-bros. That’s us.”

Johnny snorted. “Right. ‘Cuz that’s worked so well for us so far.”

Peter ran a hand across his rain-speckled eye lenses, a shadow crossing over his otherwise lustrous heart. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Sam?” he asked reluctantly. “Maybe there’s a chance he’s a better person now. Maybe you two could be friends again.”

Preferably nothing more than that, Peter thought with a pinch in his gut. But if he’d make you happier than me…

Johnny took Peter’s hand in his and held it against his heart, a slurry of pained understanding yet unbreakable resolve etched into his face. “I don’t even want to think about that douchebag right now,” he assured him. “Maybe ever. Right now, I only want to be here. Nowhere else, with no one else. Just us.”

God, was he perfect. Too perfect. It was almost unfair. The smile he beheld him with could shake the very stars from the sky.

At that moment, a frigid gust of wind barreled upon them from the east, making the rain fly in sideways. Peter’s teeth started chattering again as he braced himself against the numbing gale and downpour, trembling like a leaf.

“Oh,” Johnny said, scanning him up and down, completely unfazed by the rain or wind. “Are you still cold?”

“Um,” Peter stuttered, shoulders hiked to his ears, knees quaking beneath him. “L-little bit.”

Johnny reached out and touched his arm, lowering the superhuman layer of warmth he shrouded himself in to protect his body from the elements long enough to feel the temperature of Spider-Man’s skin. His jaw dropped when the cold reached his fingers. Blinded by his excitement for his reciprocated affections, Johnny hadn’t bothered to notice that the person he was kissing and ogling and fawning over was freezing to death right before his eyes.

“Holy shit, Spidey!” Johnny cried, bundling him into a superheated hug. “You’re like ice!”

“Oh my god,” the masked hero whimpered. “You’re s-so warm.” He shuddered out a breath, nestling his head between Johnny’s chin and shoulder, the Human Torch’s intoxicating smell and toasty embrace like shots of ecstacy to his senses. “Is this what being a lizard under a heat lamp feels like? Sweet mother of Christ. Bake me alive. Set me on fire. Go full supernova. I can take it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Johnny insisted, ignoring the shivering teen’s quips. He hugged him closer to his chest. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? We need to get you out of the rain.”

“A cup of hot cocoa wouldn’t hurt either,” Peter added, voice muffled against the bend of Johnny’s neck. Peter felt the Human Torch’s laughter rumble softly through his body, and he thought he might melt with happiness.

“Fine. I’ll make you the best hot cocoa ever. After we get you home.” Johnny snaked an arm around his waist to lift him off the ground, but his hand bumped something in the hidden pocket of Spider-Man costume. Curious, he tugged the object free, then frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, holding the sopping piece of paper between them.

Peter gasped in dismay. “Oh no,” he lamented, cradling it in his hands. “My artwork! It’s ruined.”

“Your artwork?” Johnny said dubiously.

“It was the first piece of fan art I ever received,” Peter explained, the drawing turning to mush in his palms. “A little girl named Lainie made it for me. It was a picture of us holding hands with spiders everywhere. She signed it and everything. It was probably the worst depiction of me I’ve ever seen in my life. I loved it with my entire being.” The paper chose that moment to fall apart entirely, plopping into sad, wet piles on top of Lady Liberty’s head. “And now it’s gone.”

Johnny’s eyes brightened. “You mean you met a fan of yours? Like, in person?”

Peter nodded. “I did. A lot of them, actually. More than I’ve ever seen in my life. They helped me figure out you were here.” He nuzzled back into his irresistible bubble of warmth. “People are actually beginning to like me now. They’re starting to see me as someone helpful and trustworthy. I don’t know how you did it.”

“You did that,” Johnny corrected him. “I just opened their eyes to what was already there. It was all you.”

“You’re a goddamn miracle worker, Johnny Storm.”

After a beat, Johnny sighed wistfully, raising a hand to Peter's neck, his index and middle fingers resting against the heavy thump of his pulse. “Fine," he conceded. "I suppose you’re right. I am amazing. And talented. And inspirational. And hot.” A smirk lifted his features as he traced the tips of his fingers up his throat and under his chin, sending a different kind of shiver crawling up Spider-Man's spine. “No wonder you want me so bad. I’m impressed, actually. Fresh out the closet, yet here you are—snatching the world’s hottest bachelor off the market like a pro. Do you know how many fans’ hearts you’d be breaking if they knew? They’d call you far worse things than a menace; I can promise you that.”

Peter turned ten shades of red beneath his waterlogged spider-suit. Even now, when they both knew they liked each other, Johnny’s wily teasing still left him blushing brighter than a summer sunset. In fact, knowing Johnny was flirting with him because he liked him probably made it a hundred times more effective and about a thousand times more flustering. A startled giggle sprung out of him as Peter’s hand flew to his neck. Johnny’s cackling injected Peter’s skin with static, but the flaming teen’s gaze brimmed with affection as he swept the masked hero into his arms, planting a kiss between his eyes and lifting them into the sky.

“I’m so happy you liked me back,” Johnny said, holding him like something precious, something holy. The wind and rain hammered down from above, but Peter could hardly feel it. Johnny’s warmth was all-consuming and steadfast, shielding him from the blustery outside world. He pressed in close to him, praying they were too high up for anyone in the city to see while also drowning in too much joy to care that much if they did.

“I’m so happy you liked me back, too,” Peter giggled in reply. Time would only tell what new adventures and dangerous obstacles awaited them now that they’d taken this leap. Foes and friends rising against them, battles and turmoil fought both externally and within. But now, no matter what, they’d face those things together. Side by side, hand in hand, the spider and his flame.

Peter held onto this moment like a firefly caged between his fingers. It was so perfect, so magical, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting it escape him, of watching that fleeting, wondrous light disappear beyond his reach. He’d grasp it tight and hold it close for as long as he could without squashing it.

Spider-Man ignored the breathtaking views of the city whisking by beneath them. He traced his gaze across Johnny’s refined features the whole ride home, heaven struck.

#spider-man #spideytorch #peter parker x johnny storm #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #johnny storm #my writing #bi peter parker #fantastic 4 #fantastic four #enemies to lovers #irondad #spideytorch fanfic

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kinardsevan · 6 months ago

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I figured it out. Why hearing that Tommy is a plot device/temporary is so infuriating. It’s the equivalent of being told “it’s just a phase”. As in, Buck just needs a phase to “figure out” being bisexual so then he can guide Eddie through it??? That logic is fucked on so many levels.

Evan Buckley is a grown ass man. He may be figuring out what he likes coming from another man vs a female in a committed relationship, but it’s not like he’s NEVER kissed or had sex with someone before.

Also, I’ve put off saying this, but I think (one of) the things that bothers me most about the possibility of Buddie on any level is that you have to trust in the whole “I fall for my best friend and they fall back at the same time” trope. That shit is not only rare, it’s painful. And given that 911 tends to go for realism (on some level) versus the fantasy when it comes to building relationships, you can’t tell me that Buddie would get it easy. But there’s an entire class of people who think this is the hard part, and one day Eddie is just gonna wake up and realize now that Buck is canonically bisexual. But like… that’s not very realistic? Also, the point Ryan keeps making about Eddie being heterosexual. And also, I genuinely believe that given the original plans for Tommy’s arc, that when Ryan said no, that was their chance.

Hear me out:

Buck would’ve been far easier to flip on a whim of “I’m into my best friend” after Eddie having a moment with Tommy. The ground work is already there, with previous situations (TK, etc). Eddie on the other hand, has so many other issues to contend with (Shannon, Christopher, his faith) that without someone basically shoving him in that direction, it really doesn’t fit.

To which brings my point: I feel like there was probably a conversation (at the very least, if not more than one) had at some point before the season started, and knowing the ideas Tim had on the table, there was an engagement of “this is the direction we want to move in, how do you feel about it?” Because truth be told, you can’t force someone six years into their contract to suddenly make changes they’re not cool with. and again, I feel like when that possibility was broached, and Ryan said no but Oliver said yes, this was the result.

Ryan does not want to play a queer character. Oliver doesn’t have a problem with doing so, nor does Lou. (And all of that is OKAY). But to that end, Ryan literally cannot be forced to do so if he does not want to. (I imagine there are probably bylaws via SAG/AFTRA that ensure this under some level of sexual harrassment, etc). And again, it’s one thing for an actor to read fanfiction about their character, even send it to their scene partner and be like “hey look at this”. But that doesn’t equate to them being like “okay yeah, the fans want it so we should do it”. Case in point? Go look at the entire Marvey fandom in Suits. I personally have a retweeted twt from Aaron Korsh like 6/7/8 years ago which I commented on the two of them kissing. Guess what? It never happened. And AK and Co were well aware of the side of the fandom that wanted those two together.

I don’t know what happens with Lou and Tommy from here on out obvs. They’re certainly teeing up some options, though we don’t have any clear answers due to just entering hiatus last week. But even if he’s gone in s8, that will never ensure that Buddie happens, and I’m not even trying to be mean about that. It’s just fact.

#bucktommy #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #not just a phase #honest storytelling #these are the things that get under my skin

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crtstormie · 8 months ago

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If Val still abuses Vox like stated in the old lore, would he and Angel be able to relate?

Tw: discussions of abuse

If you weren’t back in the early days of the fandom, back then we barely knew anything about Vox. All we knew was a few limited and obvious things like he was an entertainment overlord and one of the three Vees.

However, one of the things we later learned about him in a livestream is that him and Val are in some sort of relationship and that Val is obviously abusive towards him.

This was a part of the old lore and while I’m sure Val can get violent from time to time, it seems from episode two that this new idea of Vox has a lot of control over Val’s anger and wouldn’t really allow him to crack or break his screen.

But back then we didn’t know this. Remember when we thought Val would be the leader of the Vees?

Considering that we also still thought the Voxtagram stories a were canon and Val is shown to break Vox’s screen often, we had a very different interpretation of him.

And with the popularity of amazing fan song ‘eyes on me’ from paranoid dj that also shows their relationship as abusive at the end of the video, this was all we thought their relationship would be like. (Ok but honestly eyes on me is amazing I listen to it like every week)

Now, how did this relate to angeldust?

We knew a lot more about Angeldust because he is part of the main cast, and when addict released the show was making it very obvious that Val was his boss, abuser, and that hurts and affects him daily.

When the show released we get a sneak peak of how manipulative Val is in episode 2 when he convinces Angel to come to the studio, but it is the worst in the infamous episode.

This episode’s entire theme is about Val and just how horrible he treats Angel and has no regards for his feelings, body, or well being.

I could go into more detail on just how bad Val is to Angel, but that’s a sensitive topic that’s been discussed to death already.

But as we see at the end of ‘poison,’ Vox gives Angel a look that I can only describe as smug jealousy.

Which Vox, I love you, but that is disgusting.

In this frame it’s shown to us that Vox is jealous of Angel because Val focuses a lot of his time on Angel and not him, but… Angel is literally getting raped without his consent?

Vox may be Val’s on and off boyfriend, but he’s very aware of what Val does to his employees, especially Angel. It’s part of why he works with him.

But comparing someone who youre partly letting get abused in your workplace by you’re friend and work partner to jealously because they are getting abused and beat by that person daily to be jealous of because Angel spends more time with Val than he gets to?

I’m sorry Vox, but that sickens me to an extreme level.

Of course I could just be reading to far into that one frame, but in the context of the show Vox is an egotistical overlord who is already shown to not care for his own employees. So why would he care about what Val does to his?… except when they are the source of his anger and time.

Now, theoretically, let’s say that in the new lore Val is still abusive to Vox at times. Ignoring how close they were in the finale song in episode 8.

Val is poison to everyone around him, even the people he’s the closest to.

Would Vox and Angel be able to bond over this? I say no.

Angel is a sinner, which is on the lower part of the class system in hell. It’s normalized that someone like him can be treated however it applies to a contract they signed.

There’s no sympathy for him by others except when they care for him and what it makes Angel do to himself (Husk) or when they know just what goes down in that studio (Charlie)

But I highly doubt Angel and Vox are any sense of close.

Vox mainly works on his floor, and Angel works in the studio. They obviously have met and vox still has that.. *ew* resentment to Angel, but that’s really it.

Now, vox on the other hand, is a powerful level who is on the same level, if not more powerful that Valentino because he’s the leader of the Vees.

Even if Val abuses him sometimes, he’s probably… into that.

Look at that waist and tell me that man isn’t a bottom, you get the point.

Val and Vox’s story hasn’t been told to us yet, but by using background information like a old picture of them from presumably the 70’s and how close they seem, I theorize they met a little after Val died and teamed up to become more powerful. They were a little attracted to one another, but it never did and still isn’t official, even if they look and act gay as hell. (Heh)

So Vox is on the same level as Val and has been close to him for 50+ years. They’ve had plenty of good moments, even if they are both awful people.

Oh yeah, let’s talk about that.

Since Vox is also on the same level as Val, he still is a awful person as well see in episode 2,4, and 8. (His appearances)

Even if he Dosent sexually assault his employees, he still treats them horribly, as does Velvette. I assume this is common practice for overlords to treat their souls poorly, but it’s still not a good practice. I feel bad for the fish guy who had to make angelic security on the spot, he looks as stressed as me.

He hypnotizes people into trusting him and buying his technology, which is just evil businessman behavior. Someone said he reminds them of lord business from the LEGO movie, and I see it.

He is also very petty towards Alastor in almost every way, immediately trying to brainwash his audience to not listen to him.

I’m not saying being petty is a sign of being a awful person, but for Vox it contributes.

There’s the… look in episode 4, which I’ve already discussed, but it’s important to note that Vox is in Val’s studio DURING Val shooting and mistreating his stars.

If he regularly does this is then he is more than aware of what Val does to his employees and only gives them disgusted stares back. Like all he sees in them is what Val sees, useless whores for content.

Which is obviously not good lmao

And then in episode 8 (and partly episode 6 if you look into it)

Vox is shown to have spying technology all over the city which is how he regulates his users behavior. He uses this tech to spy on alastor and the others and make fun of them like he’s watching football.

At the end of the episode, we see him happily dancing with Valentino and Tounge kissing him, showing us even more that they’re in love in their own sick twisted evil way.

Angel on the other hand, is shown to be better.

He’s in a hotel for redemption and throughout the season we see him slowly kicking his old habits like self destruction, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, distancing himself, etc.

(With the help of Husky ofc huskerdust for life)

And by the end of the season we see Angel being a lot more genuine to the others in the hotel and I only imagine he gets better once they find out it’s possible to be redeemed.

Vox is not shown to want to be morally better in the slightest, if not worse.

He wants to one up Alastor, he wants to take over hell with the other Vees, and he will do it however he wants because he’s a cartoon supervillain.

I’m not going to touch on what I Think of Val and Vox as a ship in this but what I will say is that Vox is a cartoon supervillain, doing things that even though horrible in the universe are just seen as goofy to us viewers.

Val on the other hand is scarily realistic, a abuser who manipulates his victims and forces them to have sex for his own benefits. I think that’s the main thing that sets me off for them, even if they are evilly perfect for each other. (So I’m gonna steal vox from Val)

Vox is in a much different position with Val than Angel is, equal to if not above him while Angel is very below him. We see Angel stand up to him in episode 6, but I just know he was beaten the hell out of the next day and broken even further.

Vox would belittle him, so the only way I see the two even talking genuinely is if Angel starts it.

This isn’t like Angel and Husk, where they’re both washed up losers who are going through situations similar enough to bond, there’s an extreme power imbalance that wouldn’t make it as meaningful as Angel and husk’s talk.

There’s an amazing comic, I’ll add it below, but it’s actually what got me thinking about this topic.

If Vox comes out with his screen cracked after Angel was also hurt just to yell at the other becuase he’s ruining their image, then I see this potentially working.

They could share a sweet line like Angel showing concern for Vox’s cracked screen considering that’s his face and it must feel like having you’re skull cracked open. Angel has probably been driven to that level before.

However I have this one image in my head.

If Vox and Angel are both slightly talking and then they both say, “Val can be… rough.”

I think that perfectly shows how different the two’s situations are with him.

Vox would say it all horny with a tint of love to his voice, while Angel would say it actually despaired and quiet. They see Val’s actions differently because they are affected differently by it.

Vox isn’t scared of Val because he is on the same level as him, and I think that’s the main reason to why they wouldn’t kconnect.

Besides, both Vox and Angel are either too egotistical or have too many walls up to have a legit conversation about Val without knowing each other at all.

If anything Vox is only a contribute to why Val focuses on Angel so much, their relationship is toxic af and we see in ep 2 that Val likes to get a reaction out of Vox. It’s sick and twisted but I wouldn’t put it against him to do something like that.

So, in conclusion I don’t think Angel and Vox would be able to relate to each other because their situations and relationships with Val are so different, even if Val lets it out on Vox time to time his main target is Angel. Angel gets hurt almost every day and I’d say Vox only gets hurt every couple months on a really bad day.

We know a lot of the lore has changed since the pilot and the Voxtahram stories most of these claims come from arent even canon, so I probably just ranted about nothing.

Regardless Thank you for reading, and goodnight. If you have any genuine thoughts about this feel free to share in the comments and reblogs, I’m curious.

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samaraannhan20 · 2 years ago

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Harry Styles Imagine: College AU! College Visit

A.N.: I write what I know. I am a music education major with a theater minor. I’m sorry if this makes it hard for you to imagine yourself in this scenario. Please do not leave me any hate. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Thank you :)

Warnings: 6 year age gap, reader is a college student, music and theater education major, reader is in choir and theater, and is currently in two productions

“H, are you sure that you, and your family, want to spend the day here at school with me?” I ask Harry over the phone, for probably the millionth time since he told me he was coming to see me while school was in session. “I’ve told you a million times, I can just skip classes and choir that day. They will understand.”

“Love, I’ve told you a million times, I want to see what your everyday life is like. And with having the day off before going back on tour, and my mom wanting to see you again, I can’t imagine a better way to spend the day. Besides, I’ve always wanted to sit in on a college class.”

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky you’ll be here on a day I don’t have a lot of classes. Imagine if you were going to be here on a two rehearsal day,” I say with a chuckle, and he chuckles in response knowing that my days are almost as busy on the same level as his.

“Mondays really are your tame days, aren’t they?” he replies, and I can tell he is laughing.

“Shut up. I’m already at the hotel, since you booked it under my name, that way you don’t have to check in, you can just come to the backdoor. My car is back there, and I left the driver door unlocked with the room keys in the console. Same for Jeff and Mitch, Sarah, and bubs. You’ll get here at 8 tonight?”

“Yeah, darling, Mum, Gem, and I will get there at 8 tonight. Jeff, Sarah, and Mitch as well. And of course they’ll have bubs with them. I think Jeff and the two of them mentioned they wanted to come to your choir rehearsal, if you don’t think that will cause too much of a problem,” he adds, knowing that it might cause a problem.

“Um, no. It shouldn’t, at least. I’ve talked to both of my directors, and since it’s been out there since the summer that we are together they kind of figured it would happen at some point. The choir director already had me share about it on Friday, and then he is going to send out a reminder text in the morning. The choir is amazing at being focused, so I really don’t think y’all being there will cause any problems. And everyone at play rehearsal has known for weeks that you would be here tomorrow. The only problem I can see is with my focus, because I only have 36 hours with you,” and I say, sighing. “I’m really sorry I can’t be there for your birthday. I just can’t miss that test.”

“I know baby, I know. And I’m not upset at all. I’m glad we at least get this day together.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I should make it out for your birthday show. I don’t know. Maybe I can leave right after my test on Tuesday and drive out. I think my other teacher for that day would be super understanding. And then I could stay with you and come back after the Grammys,” I tell him, because I already had plans to attend the Grammys with him, I just wasn't going to walk the carpet. “Wait, you don't have another show until the Brit Awards on the 11th. Where are you going after the Grammys? You’ll have like four days off-ish. ” I asked him, realizing he had never told me where he was going until the Australian leg of the tour started.

“Well, as you know my mum and Gemma are actually heading out after our visit with you, they’re leaving Monday night, right after your rehearsal. We have to head out to Englnd to make sure we’re there in time for rehearsals, since I’m also performing at the Brit’s.. I’m looking at Jeff’s GPS and it says we’re about two hours away from the hotel, so I’m going to hang up so you can study and finish up your homework before we get there. Do you want me to pick up take out on my way in?”

“No, unless you want some. I stocked the room with groceries since I knew, besides coming to my school, which is super small and no one will see you besides the people who have already signed NDA’s, we would be in the hotel room. Also, I stocked your mom and Gemma’s room, and the other’s rooms as well.”

“Darling you didn’t have to do that. I could have sent security to the store or something,” he tells me, and I can hear the stress in his voice.

“No, really, it was no big deal. It wasn’t as much as I’m making it sound, because there is room service, and the really good Chinese take out place is right down the street from the hotel, so I can just pop out and get it.”

“I’m paying you back,” he says, and I know I will never win this argument, so I just sigh. “Now, go study and do homework. I’ll be there before you know it. I love you.”

“I love you too H. See you soon,” I say, and pull the phone away from my ear as he hangs up. Two short hours. I can handle two short hours. I stood up from where I had been sitting on the bed and crossed to the desk where I had already laid out all of the materials needed set out, my study music already playing from where it left off when I first got the call from Harry. I picked up my music history book, and flipped it open to the page I was supposed to start reading on. It didn’t take long before I was lost in the world of music history, reading about Bach and Handel. It took about 20 minutes for me to finish reading, before I closed that book and opened the next one. This time I had to read and write a response, so I knew it would take longer.

After about an hour, I closed that book and my laptop, now finished with homework and not sure what to do. I decided to pick up my phone and look through my social media.

Right before the news broke about Harry and I, I made all of my social media private, so that only the people in life that I trusted were given an insight into my life with him. I already rarely used social media, besides using snapchat to send updates to friends, so it wasn’t hard to make sure no one was on it. I decided to open snapchat, and saw that I had an unopened picture from Harry that I hadn’t noticed had been delivered. I quickly open it and see a super dorky picture of him in the car, with Gemma making a stupid face behind him. I laughed, and then snapped a picture of myself and sent it to him, after writing a message that said I had finished homework and was just waiting.

After a few minutes of waiting for him to reply, I got bored and restless, and turned on the television, just flipping to some random channel that had a movie playing, and then sat down on the couch provided in the room. The sitting soon turned to laying, and the laying turned to hanging upside down because I’m just so restless that I couldn’t sit in one position for too long. I was sitting like that when I heard the key beep in the door, and then the door creak open.

“Love?” I heard from my spot on the couch, and scrambled to move, which just caused me to fall on the floor, because I am nothing if not clumsy.

“I’m in here,” I say, as I make it to my feet and as I spin to face the doorway, he steps in. “Harry,” I say his name like it’s my last saving grace, and it’s just a sigh that falls through my lips, and I run to him, jumping into his arms as he opens them, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Hi darling,” he says as he holds me, before pulling me into a kiss. When he pulls away the two of us just stare at each other, being happy just to see the other's face, after not seeing each other since Christmas. I drop my legs from around him, and he sets me down on the floor, still with our arms wrapped around each other. After a minute, he laughs and says “Did you fall when I walked in?” and I shove him away, also laughing.

“Yes, don’t make fun of me,” I say, and pout my lips, like a little toddler.

“Oh, darling,” he says and walks back towards me. “I’m not making fun of you, I just wanted to know if I needed to check for injuries,” he says, and wraps his arms around me again, kissing the pout right off, because when his hands, or any part of his body, is on me, I’m all smiles. Especially since it’s been a month since I saw him last. We stand there just exchanging small pecks and smiles back and forth for an unknown (to us) amount of time, happy to be together again. However, there is always someone that comes along to interrupt, and low and behold after some time, there was a knock on our hotel room door. I giggle and pull back from Harry as he groans, and turn to go to the door. He, however, has different plans, and only allows me to turn around in his arms, keeping them tight around my stomach, and pulling back as I try to walk to the door.

“Harry!” I exclaim with a laugh, “let me go get the door. It’s probably your mom and sister, and I miss them too.”

“Not as much as you miss me though. Don’t let them in. Let it just be us for a little longer,” he says, tucking his face into my neck and kissing the place that he knows will make me weak in the knees.

“No!” I exclaim with another laugh. “I’m coming!” I shout to the door, knowing that whoever is on the other side can hear everything that is happening. When he finally lets go of my waist, I stumble forward, and almost fall, but then he catches me, spins us so he’s the one at the door, and whips the door open. I run up behind him, rest my chin on his shoulder, and smile widely at the five people standing in front of us. “Hey guys!” I say with a smile, and pull Harry out of the way so that they can all enter the room. They all say hello and give me a hug as they walk by, after I shove Harry out of the way so I can hug Sarah. I hug Anne the longest, because she has become a mother to me. She and I wrap our arm around each other, and walk into the “living room” of the hotel room, and she kisses the top of my head before letting me go and playfully pushing me towards Harry, who is now pouting on the couch. I go and sit on his lap, sideways, with my legs hanging off the other side of him, and he wraps his arms tightly around my waist as I curl my arms around his shoulders. He gives me a quick kiss and we just sit there looking at each other while everyone else talks, in our own little world. At least, until Jeff says my name.

“Y/N,” he says, and my head whips in his direction, fully intending to turn my attention to him. “What time is the first class that you have to be at tomorrow?”

“Well, I figured since Harry is only interested in my music classes I would skip my 9 am, which would make my first class be at 10:45. And the school is only like ten minutes from here, so Harry and I wouldn’t need to leave until 10:30. I figured I could drive us since my car is here, and then everyone else can drive to campus for choir at 12.”

“Okay great, and after that?”

“Well, choir is at 12, like I just said, but I’ll have like a 20 minute break between the end of class and the start of choir, so I thought I would bring Harry back to my apartment to see my roommate that isn’t in choir, and then we would head back over for choir.”

“I want to see your apartment,” Anne jumps in, and that makes me remember that she had mentioned it before.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’ll have an hour break after choir before my technical theater class, so you guys could come over then. Harry mentioned he also wanted to go to that class, so I thought he would and then we could come back to the hotel for a few hours before I have rehearsal. Who all is making an appearance at rehearsal?”

“I think we all wanted to go to that,” Sarah says, looking around the room.

“Yeah,” Gemma jumps in, “it’s not everyday that you get to see your little brother’s girlfriend acting on a stage.”

I blush, saying “I’m nowhere near as good as Harry though. And it’s kind of a sad show. Are you sure?” They all nod their heads in response, and I blush even more. “Okay, when Harry and I see the director in tech theater I’ll let him know that everyone will be there.”

“And everyone who will be at anything tomorrow signed the group NDA that I sent?” Jeff asks, and Harry rolls his eyes. I smack him on the arm, reprimanding him.

“Don’t roll your eyes Harry, it’s important,” I say, before turning my attention back to Jeff, “Yeah, they all signed it last week. Anyone who didn’t want to was excused from choir for the day. It’s just going to be a bunch of review, nothing new. But I think y’all will still enjoy it. I mean, it's nothing like you’ve been in or have seen a lot of, of course. Just plain old college students prepping for our semester concert. You’ll probably think it’s boring,” I say, knowing that I at times think it’s boring. Harry tightens his hold on me, and shakes his head.

“I don’t think it will be boring. In fact, I think it will be quite fun. Like you said, it’s not what we experience often, which is what will make it fun. Now, now that we’ve talked all this out, will you lot please go to your own rooms so I can have some alone time with my girlfriend, who I will remind you, has not seen me since Christmas, and after this week won’t see me again for another month, until her spring break?” he asks, with a smile on his face, but they all know that he isn’t joking. Jeff shakes his head, before standing up.

“Yeah, I guess we can. C’mon Mitch, Sarah,” he says, and they both stand up and head towards the door.

“See y’all tomorrow!” I shout towards them, and the three of them turn and wave back at me. Gemma and Anne stand up after the others leave.

“Well, we’re tired, so we’ll let you guys be as well,” Anne says, and I stand up to give them both a hug goodnight. “Love you, both of you,” Anne says as I hug her, and I squeeze her a little tighter when she says it. Harry also stands to give his mom and sister a hug, and then follows them to the door. As he shows them out I head into the bedroom and grab my pajamas from where I had laid them on the bed earlier, and turn to head towards the bathroom, to do my nightly routine.

“Where’d you go?” I hear him shout from the living room, and I laugh because as clingy as he is I really missed it when we weren’t able to be together.

“In here,” I shout, leaning out the bathroom door, before ducking back in and continuing to tie my hair back, so that I could wash my face without getting hair in the middle of it. Just as I finish tying my hair back he comes into the bathroom and wraps his arms around me.

“I wanted to cuddle,” he says with a pout, before leaning down and kissing my shoulder. I place my hands over his arms where they are resting on my stomach, and meet his eyes in the mirror, laughing.

“I need to wash my face. We both know we will go lay down to cuddle and won’t get back up again until the morning, and with the Grammys coming up I cannot afford any breakouts, so I have to do my skin care,” I explain as I look at his pouting face.

“Does that mean you changed your mind and you will walk the carpet with me?”

“It means I’m considering it, but I’m not making any promises. Now, can I wash my face?”

“Can I do it?” he asks me, turning me in his arms so that I am facing him rather than the sink.

“Can you do it without getting soap in my eyes?” I ask him, because we have been in this position before and he has fully gotten soap in my eyes. He nods vigorously, and I give in, handing him the soap. He places it on the counter next to us and lifts me up onto the counter before stepping in between my legs and grabbing a wash rag. He spends the next ten minutes doing my skincare routine, and when he is done he steps back to admire his handiwork.

“Beautiful.”

I laugh before saying, “yeah, okay. Can we go lay down and cuddle now?” and he picks me up from the counter and taps my legs to have me wrap them around his waist before he carries me into the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed, and then slips his clothes off before slipping into bed next to me in his boxers. Once he settles he reaches his arm out for me, and I curl up next to him as we fall asleep.

The next morning I wake up to a knocking on the door, and gently slip out of Harry’s arms and rub my eyes as I walk towards the door. I look through the peephole before opening the door, and groan when I see Jeff standing there with three coffees in his hand.

“Jeff. what the heck,” I say with a groan when I open the door. “We don’t have to leave for another… what time is it?”

“8,” he replies with a little laugh.

“Another two and a half hours. Why are you here?”

“I brought coffee,” he says, shoving the one I know is meant for me towards my face. “It’s a peace offering, because I need to talk about some business stuff with H for a bit.” At that I roll my eyes before responding.

“You get to wake him up. I’m taking my coffee and taking a shower,” I say, and open the door far enough to let him in, before dropping it and slowly walking back to the bedroom, before beelining for the shower. I take my time in the shower, hoping that by the time I get out they will be done with whatever business they needed to talk about this morning. I’ve just gotten to rinsing my hair for the final time, when Harry knocks on the bathroom door.

“Love, Jeff left. So you can finish up and get out, if that’s what you were waiting for. Also I grabbed the clothes you had set out last night. You forgot them when you came in here this morning.”

“Thanks H. I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, as I switch the water off and reach for my towel. I dry off and get dressed fairly quickly, because I am unaware of exactly how much time I spent in the shower, and I’m not sure if H is going to shower this morning. “Hey, babe, what time is it?” I ask as I walk into the bedroom, with the tail end of the coffee Jeff had gotten me in my hand.

“Uh, 9:45. When did you say the two of us need to leave?”

“10:30. Were you going to shower this morning?”

“Yeah, but it won’t take me long. I’m going to go hop in now,” he says, and as he walks by me he grabs my face for a quick kiss. I laugh as he pulls away, and playfully smack his ass.

“Go get in the shower. I’ll still be here when you get out. In fact, I'll probably be drinking an energy drink, since last night was such a late night and then Azoff so kindly woke me up with his knocking on the door,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“I already sent Jeff to get you another one. He should bring it soon. I sent him to get it as he left because I knew you would want another one. I know you darling,” he says, and then closes the bathroom door to shower. I sit down on the edge of the bed and put on my shoes, before chugging the end of my coffee and then flop back on the bed. I’m probably lying there for a grand total of two minutes before there is another knock on the door. I stand and walk to the door, open it without looking, and hold my hand out for the coffee.

“Thank you Jeffrey,” I say, and close the door. “See you later!” I shout, knowing he is still standing out there, and with a quick look through the peephole I see him shaking his head at me. I laugh and head back into the bedroom to wait for Harry, but when I get back in there he is already in the room, and as I walk in he is pulling his sweat pants up. “Ya know? I like you better without the pants.”

Harry laughs at me, and turns to face me. “And I like you better without the clothes you have on right now. But we have to get you to school, Miss college student,” he says as he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms.

“I know, I know. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a college student because then I could go on tour with you.”

“Yeah, me too. But I know that you wouldn't be content just sitting on a tour bus all the time. Which is why I force you to do your homework and pass your classes, because you and I both know that you don’t just want to be a trophy wife. And I want you to be happy,” he says, and then lifts my chin and pulls me into a kiss. After we pull away we just sit there looking at each other, because neither of us wants to end this moment. Unfortunately, there is a knock on the door, and Harry begrudgingly pulls away to go answer the door. As he walks towards the door, he says over his shoulder, “tonight, it will be just us, and we will explore this no-clothes idea.” I laugh as he opens the door to his Mum and Gemma standing in the hall. “You guys are up early,” he states.

“Well, Mum wanted to see what the clothing vibe for today was, since it's been a bit since she was on a university campus,” Gemma says as she walks into the room, spots the coffee in my hand, and holds her hand out for a sip.

“You won’t like it,” I say as I hand it to her, knowing that we have two completely different coffee tastes. She takes a sip anyway and immediately makes a face and shoves the drink back to me. Anne and Harry laugh as I say, “told ya,” with a smirk on my face. She playfully smacks me, and then turns back to the conversation. “Nothing formal. You’re just coming to watch the choir rehearse. No big deal. It’s college. No one dresses nice unless they have to. This is what I’m wearing,” I say and motion towards my outfit. They both nod their head, and as they do so I wrap my arms around Harry from behind, and rest my chin on his shoulder. “H and I need to leave soon, so did y’all have anything else you needed?”

“Oh, right. I forgot the two of you were leaving before everyone else,” Anne tells us, and begins to head for the door. “We will see the two of you later then,” she says and then the two of them duck out the door, and it closes behind them.

“Well,” I say, stepping around Harry so I’m facing him. “I think we should head out soon. Give my classmates, all three of them, time to fawn over you before class starts, so that by the time class starts they’re over it,” I say with a laugh, and he pulls me into him, and digs his face into my neck.

“They won’t really do that will they?” he mumbles, and I pull back to get a good look at him.

“Um, I can for sure say that Nat won’t, because she’s my best friend. As for the other two, I’m not sure. I honestly think choir might be worse. But, every single one of them has signed an NDA so at the very least nothing will be leaked and we won’t be swarmed by paparazzi.” He just nods and pulls me back into him, kissing me gently.

“I’m excited to finally meet Nat in person. She’s like all you talk about,” he says, laughing.

“Well she thinks that you’re all I talk about. It’s going to be hilarious how much the two of you already know about each other because of me.” He just laughs again, before pulling away and grabbing my hand, leading me out the door and to the car. He opens the driver side door for me, and kisses me one more time after I get in before shutting it and crossing to the other side of the car and getting in the passenger side. My phone immediately connects to the bluetooth, and starts playing the last thing I had listened to in the car, which just so happened to be Harry’s House. I whip my head to the side and look at Harry, and we both just crack up. I hand him my phone so he can change it, and after a minute or two he changes it simply to my road trip playlist, even though this is only a 15 minute drive. He turns it down, and we chat the whole way to campus. When we get to campus I park outside of the building we are heading to, and we just sit there in silence for a moment.

“This is going to be great. You get to learn a little music history,” I say and unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to him, “and meet my mentor, and my best friend. All in one class period. And then we get a 20 minute break before choir.” He leans across the console and grabs my face in his hands, and pulls me in for a kiss. “Are you nervous?” I ask as we pull apart.

“Uh, yeah. But not too bad. Mostly about meeting Nat, like I said before,” he says, looking at his lap sheepishly.

“She’ll love you,” I say, before leaning across the console and kissing him again. “We need to go in though. Will you grab my backpack out of the back? I’ll grab our cups,” I ask, and he nods, opening his door and getting out. I open my door and then grab our cups, before stepping out of the car. We clasp our hands together, and make the short walk to the building my class is in, and when we enter I give him a little tour. “Here are the practice rooms, here is the lab, with our book cubbies and computers. And this is the Piano teacher’s office/classroom.” We turn and walk down the hallway until we enter the small classroom that my class is held in. “And this is the classroom. Everyone should be here soon. I sit here, you can sit in the chair I usually put my bag in,” I tell him as I pull out the chair for him, and let him cross behind me before pulling my own chair out and sitting down. “So, what do you think of the building so far?” I ask, turning to face him when I finished digging my book out of my bag and set it on the table.

“It’s small. I mean, I knew it was small, but it’s tiny,” he says, emphasizing the tiny. I laugh, and go to respond, but as I do that someone walks through the door.

“Nat!” I exclaim and wave for her to come sit down. “This is Harry, as you know,” I tell her with a small chuckle.

“Oh yeah,” she says, also laughing, “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she tells him.

“And I you,” he says with a smile. The two sit and talk, while I just smile and listen, happy that the people I am closest to have finally met. Before long the other two people in the class trickle in, and finally the teacher. He plops his book down on the table, before holding his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry stands and reaches across the table to shake his hand.

“I’m Dr. Percival, but they call me Dr. P, and you can as well,” he says as he shakes Harry's hand, and drops it before continuing. “And I’d assume that you are the infamous Harry that Y/N can’t shut up about?” he says with a teasing smile.

“That’s me,” Harry says with a smile as he sits back down. I push the book in between Harry and I so that he can follow along as well, and hand him one of my purple pens to mark in the book whenever needed.

“He’s not going to distract you, is he Y/N?”

“No, it’ll be fine. I do my homework with him all the time,” I say with a slight chuckle, and everyone else chuckles as well. Dr. P nods his head, and then dives into the book. Throughout the class period both Harry and I make many marks in the book as the class goes on. At the end of class, Dr. P closes his book and turns to Harry.

“I hope you enjoyed that Harry. You seemed to be pretty into it,” he says with a smile in Harry’s direction.

“It was very interesting,” Harry replies, smiling back at the professor.

“You’re joining us to visit in choir, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Along with my Mum and sister, and my manager and two best friends slash bandmates,” Harry says with a laugh.

“Well, I will see you then. Enjoy your little break everyone,” Dr. P says as he heads out the door. As he leaves, you, Harry, and Nat all stand up.

“I think we’re,” I motion to Harry and myself, “going to run back to my apartment so I can eat a snack before choir,” I finish, and then grab Harry’s hand to pull him with me. Nat waves goodbye, and I head out the door with Harry in tow. The two of us walk in silence on the short walk to my building, our joined hands swinging in between the two of us. When we get back to my apartment, I drop his hand, and walk over to the kitchen cabinet. “Want a snack?” I ask him as I fished around in the cabinet for the snack I was looking for.

“Yeah, come here,” he says from where he was standing.

“Um, the snacks are over here doofus. How am I supposed to get us a snack if I’m over there?” I respond, and then grab what I was looking for, turning to look at him, the snacks in hand. I walk over to him as I open my snack and take a bite, waving the one for him in front of his face. “See, now I can come over here,” I say around the bite of food I have in my mouth, swallowing as I hand him his. He laughs, taking the food from my hand, and then pulls me into him. He leans down and kisses me deeply, before pulling away and taking a bite of the open granola bar in my hand. “Hey!” I exclaim in response as he opens his own granola bar. “You owe me a bite of that. And what was up with the kiss?”

“I like watching you in your element, like you were in that class. And how carefree you were as we walked over here. I never feel like I can be carefree, unless I’m with you. Then it feels as though it’s just the two of us,” he says, wrapping his free arm around my waist as we both snack on our granola bars. I finish first, and just stare off into the distance as I stand there, thinking about what he just said.

“At first, when we first shared our relationship, I was always on edge walking around campus, because you never know who is watching, and what is going to be turned into a magazine or something. But then I decided I don’t deserve to live on the edge, so now I don’t care. And you shouldn't either, Babe. people are going to say what they want to say, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And this campus is a safe space, there’s no need to be worried here,” I tell him, and then I completely wrap myself up in him. We just stand there in a hug for a minute, before he speaks up.

“I’ll do my best to be carefree the rest of the day here. I can tell that it’s a safe space,” he tells me, and then places a kiss on the top of my head. We stand there for a bit longer, but then I pull away.

“We have to get to my choir rehearsal,” I say as I grab his hand and begin to pull him to the door. We hold hands again on the way to the rehearsal hall, walking in silence again. As we walk I see the other choir members being to trickle into the rehearsal building, and I watch as a few of them notice the two of us walking across campus. As we get to the building, we walk in, and I immediately see Anne and Gemma, and Jeff, Sarah, and Mitch. Sarah is holding the little guy, and as soon as he sees me and Harry he reaches out for me. I laugh and drop Harry’s hand, grabbing the little guy from Sarah. “I can’t hold you the entire time little one,” I say to him as I carry him down the hall, and just assume that everyone is following me. “But I can hold you for now.” The seven of us arrive at the end of the hallway, and Jeff opens the door for all of us, and I walk in first, with the others walking in behind me. Dr. P sees me as we walk in, and, after telling the others where they can sit, pulls me aside for a second.

“Would you be okay making a little announcement, just kind of introducing everyone to the choir? I want this to be as normal of a rehearsal as possible, and I think that might help a little,” he says to me, and I respond with a “one second,” before walking over to the group sitting at the only table in the room.

“Jeff, H, would it be okay if I make an announcement? Maybe each of you will introduce yourself shortly? Dr. P thinks that might be the best way to have as close to a normal rehearsal as possible.” Jeff and H look at each other, having one of their silent conversations, and then turn back to me.

“Yeah, I think that will work,” Jeff says to me, and I thank him, before heading back over to Dr. P. I tell him that they said it would be okay, and he thanks me before turning to answer a student that had a question. I walk back over to the six of them, and hand the little guy to Sarah, before crossing back to Dr. P as he gets everyone’s attention. Once he does, he tells them that I have an announcement, and then points to me, before sitting in his chair for a moment.

“Hey guys,” I start with a little chuckle. “As you can tell, we have some guests here. Um, I know everyone knows who they are, especially since everyone in here is a huge music person, but they’re going to shortly introduce themselves. One thing that I ask is that you treat them like you would treat any other visitors we have. They’re like my family, and are just here for a short visit to see what my everyday life is like,” I finish. Then I walk over to Jeff, who is sitting on the end, walk behind, and hover my hand over his head. “First is…” I trail off, and Jeff takes over, introducing himself. I then hover my hand over each of them, and end with Harry at the other end.

“I’m Harry,” he says, and you think he is done, but he keeps going. “I appreciate you guys allowing us to be here today, and just treating us like normal people, because, although we are famous, we're still people. I’m excited to hear the music you all create,” he says, and then he looks up at you, signaling that he’s done.

“Again, thank you guys for being normal and treating them like they are real people, because they are. Back to you Dr. P,” I say, and then go and stand in my spot on our risers. He thanks me for doing that, and then starts our rehearsal like normal.

The rehearsal winds up being exactly like normal, until after it’s over. It’s then, as I pick up my binder to go put it away, that I notice a line has formed in front of Harry and the others. I drop what I’m holding and run over there.

“What the heck y’all? You were doing so good at acting like it was normal. What are you doing?” I screech as I get over there and stand in front of Harry and the first person in line, blocking him from them with my body.

“You never said we couldn’t get autographs after rehearsal,” James, the guy at the front of the line states.

“Yeah, because it goes without saying. Shoo. He’s not here for your entertainment. So leave him, and everyone else alone!” I shout, and then Dr. P whistles to get everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, away from Y/N’s guests. We agreed to treat them like normal, and this is not treating them like normal. Everyone put your stuff away and go to your next class. Now!” he tells them, in the voice that makes all of them aware of how serious he is. Slowly, they all turn and put their stuff away and head out the door. After everyone is gone I turn and wrap my arms around Harry’s waist, and bury my face in his neck.

“I’m so sorry. I thought they would be fine. I never thought they would do that,” I mumble into his neck, and he whispers an “Its okay,” into the top of my head as he rests his head there and wraps his arms around me.

“I’m sorry everyone. They will be getting a very firm speech tomorrow. Heaven forbid they act like celebrities are just people,” Dr. P says, looking from one person to the other. “And since James was the leader of the pack I will be calling him into my office to have a conversation. Again, I’m sorry. Have a good rest of your day everyone,” he finishes, and then leaves the room. None of us move, and I think that they don’t move simply because I am not moving.

When I finally pull away from Harry, I shoot a small smile towards the others.

“I’m really sorry you guys. I expected them to be able to act like normal. If y’all don’t want to come to the rehearsal tonight, I understand.”

“No, we’re coming,” Harry butts in. “You've told me yourself that the cast is really small, and they're all your good friends, so I do not expect them to behave like the choir did. It will be fine. Everyone that was planning on coming to rehearsal, which I think was only me and… wait, no. We were all coming. Sarah, Mitch, Jeff, if you don’t want to come then that’s fine. But, Mum, Gemma, I really want you to be there, and Y/N won’t say it, but she also wants you to be there.” I watch the thoughts cross everyone’s minds, and then Sarah pipes up.

“I still want to come. I mean, you’re really close to production, right?” I nod my head, and then Sarah starts speaking again. “When will we get another chance to see Y/N in a show? We’re always touring, and when we aren't we’re all in our own homes, towns, so on. So, I will be going. And if I go Mitch will. So, Jeff, you’re the only one still debating. C’mon. After next week Mitch and I are taking a break, and everyone else will be in Australia.”

“Yeah Jeff,” I say, looking at him. “When else will you get to see me be the lead?” I ask, with a tilt of my head and the look Harry has named my “puppy dog” face, because I use it at any moment where I want something. In fact, that look is part of the reason Harry and the team had come to visit.

“Fine. You have a point,” Jeff says, and then playfully shoves me. “Now drop the puppy dog look. You got your way,” he says with a smile. Everyone gives a little cheer, and then I clap my hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, y’all wanted to see my apartment, and due to our little kerfuffle and then conversation we now have only…” I trail off as I grab Jeff’s arm and check the time on his watch. “40 minutes before Harry and I are supposed to be in tech theater class, so we best get going if you want to see it,” I say, before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him towards the door. He stumbles after me, and we make it outside before anyone else. He pulls me into him and we stand there with my head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on mine while we wait for everyone to make it out the door.

“I can’t wait to finally be alone again,” he whispers to me, and just as the words leave his mouth everyone else makes it out the doors, so I just pull back and peck his lips, before moving away.

“Okay, my apartment is right over there,” I say with a point, because my building is just across from the rehearsal hall. “But, if everyone is going back to the hotel when we go to class, then I suggest y’all drive over there. The parking lot is in the back. We can walk over and I’ll let y’all in when you get there,” I tell them, and they all nod before heading to the car Jeff had rented for all of them. We watch as they pile in, and then Harry takes my hand and we walk to the building. This time we make small talk as we walk over, and I ask him what he thought about rehearsal.

“It was so different from what I had been imagining. I understand now why you’re always worn out afterwards, and why you take a 1 o’clock nap everyday,” he says with a laugh, and I chuckle along with him. “And Dr. P is so intense in rehearsal.”

“And that was a good rehearsal,” I tell him with a small smile. “Imagine what a bad day is like,” I say, and he grimaces and shakes his head.

“At least you know what you’re doing, and you know you’re not one of the people he gets upset with on the bad days.” I nod in agreement, and then open the door to the building to let him in. As we walk in I see the others standing outside the doors to the parking lot, and I let out a loud laugh as I run across the entryway to let them into the building. “Sorry,” I say to them, still laughing as I open the door. “We were walking slow because we were talking,” I tell them as they walk past me. They all nod or murmur in understanding, and I lead them to the elevator. “Those are our mailboxes,” I say, pointing to the alcove full of postboxes next to the elevator. “If we get a package we get a slip put in there and then we go to the campus postoffice with our slip to get our package,” I tell them, and then realize that I just explained how a PO box works. “I’m sorry. You definitely already knew that was how a PO box works,” I say with an awkward chuckle. Anne walks to me and gives me a one-armed hug.

“You’re just nervous. I was too, the first time I invited people to my house,” she tells me, and then gently squeezes my shoulder. I smile in appreciation, and then the elevator doors open and we all step on. I press the button for the third floor, and grimace as the doors take forever to close.

“Sorry, our elevator is super slow. At least you’re not here on a day that it’s broken,” I say to them as it starts to move. “Week before last it was broken, and I was almost certain no one told the building supervisor, because there was no out of order sign on it. I thought we had all just adapted and started taking the stairs.”

“Everytime I called her,” Harry says, starting to laugh as he starts to tell a story, and I start to blush because I know exactly what he’s going to say. “She would complain about having to take the stairs, and would say she was going to start sleeping in the lobby until they fixed the elevator. They wound up fixing it on a Saturday,” he says as the elevator stops and we all step out and I begin to lead everyone to my apartment at the end of the hall. “and it was night when she got back and realized, so after my show ended I had a selfie of her in the elevator that said ‘I don’t have to sleep in the lobby!’” He tells the story with a smile, continuing as we walk down the hall to my apartment, and I hide my face in his arm as he tells it, hoping that no one is seeing how hard I’m blushing. Everyone gives a slight chuckle as the story ends, and while they're laughing I slide my key into the lock and open my apartment door, holding it for everyone to come in. I watch them take in the small apartment, because it is a school provided apartment, and begin to overthink about how small it is and that they may not like it, and just as I start to get into my own head, Gemma speaks up.

“Y/N,” she says with a huge smile on her face as she turns to look at me. “This apartment kitchen is so cute! You did such a good job decorating.” I blush as she says it, and then feel Harry wrap his arms around me.

“This is just the kitchen and common space. Wait until you see her room,” he says, and then points the women in the direction of my room. I laugh as I see that Jeff and Mitch, who has little guy in his lap, are just sitting on the couch, obviously not caring about decorations. Harry unwraps himself from me, places a kiss on my forehead, and then goes to join the guys in the living room. I laugh again, and then head into my room.

“Wow,” Sarah says the moment I walk in. “This is so impressive.”

“Thanks,” I quietly say, blushing because I hate being complicated.

“No seriously,” Gemma says, standing in front of my desk area. “How did you make this work in such a small space?”

“Well, I played a lot of Sims when I was in high school, so I got kind of good at interior design,” I say with a laugh. “Want to see what I did with the bathroom?” They all nod, and I show them that room, and then, after they tell me how much they love it, we walk back into the living area. “Well, that’s the apartment,” I say as I sit down on the arm of the chair Harry is sitting in. “Hey, babe,” I say, turning slightly to look at him. “What time is it?”

“Uhm, 1:45. We should probably head to your class, yeah?” he asks, and I nod in response. Everyone who was sitting stands up, and we head for the door. I lock the door behind us as everyone heads for the elevator. When we get to the lobby I give everyone a hug goodbye, before Harry and I head out the opposite doors, heading back to the building we had left not that long ago.

Technical theater turns out to just be more painting for the set of the show we are currently working on, and for an hour Harry and I paint the set, with the other people in my class. When that’s over we head to my car, and I drive us back to the hotel to get changed, and then we meet everyone in the lobby of the hotel and head to dinner before we all go to my rehearsal.

After dinner we head back to the school, and, luckily, the seating in our theater had been set up the day before, so rehearsal turns into a basic performance for me and everyone in the cast. Before rehearsal starts, I introduce the other people in the cast to Harry and the others, even though most of the people were also in choir. We as a cast do our warm-ups, and then I head backstage to get ready for my first entrance.

Throughout the rehearsal, every time I come off stage, I go around the side of the set wall, and make a face at Harry. He laughs quietly every time, and Anne slightly hits his shoulder each time, making me laugh. After rehearsal ends I say goodbye to my cast mates, and then we all pile into the car as Jeff drives to the airport, in order to send Gemma and Anne off. Harry and i get out at the airport to say goodbye, and then we drive back to the hotel. After we get back to the hotel, Harry and I say goodnight to everyone, and then duck into our hotel room. As soon as the door shuts behind us Harry pulls me into him, and pulls me into a deep kiss.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he says when he pulls away. “I know it’s hard for you to open up to other people, especially when it comes to your acting and singing. But thank you.” I blush and smile, before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. He taps the back of my legs, and I jump into his arms as he carries me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us, just in case.

In the morning, when I wake up, I shoot a text to Jeff.

Hey, make sure you have a pass for me at the ticket booth tomorrow night. I’ll drive out as soon as my test is over.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine

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moonchildreads · 2 years ago

Text

small town

Chapter 8 - The Heat Is On

IN THIS CHAPTER: A college acceptance letter, Hawkins High School's The Weekly Streak gets a new assistant editor, and Eddie puts his plan in motion [4.4k]

WARNINGS: college anxiety, eddie being mean to himself

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You can make a break, you can win or lose That's a chance you take, when the heat's on you

Wednesday, April 30th - 1986

“Dude, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

It was a stormy Wednesday, the last day of April, and Mrs. Click had just finished writing the units her final would cover on the blackboard when Dottie inched her chair towards Jeff with a worried expression on her face. World History was their last class before lunch period, and as the minutes ticked on, Jeff had progressively sank down further and further into his seat, as if he were melting from the inside out. He blinked a few times before lifting his head from his arms to look at his friend sitting beside him.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he laughed breathlessly.

“D’you need to go to the nurse? I can tell Mrs. Click-” Dottie was already getting up from her chair when he extended a hand towards her general direction to stop her and shook his head.

“I’m okay. Don’t- don’t get up. I’m just…,” he sighed and slid an official looking envelope that was hiding under his notebook towards her. “This arrived today.”

She craned her neck to see the fancy letters on the corner of the paper, her eyes widening in surprise. Holy shit.

“Is this…?”

“Yep,” Jeff replied, popping the last letter past his lips.

“It’s not open.”

“No, I, uh… I wanted to open it at lunch with everyone else,” he admitted. “I’m starting to think it was a terrible idea.”

“What? No, no, no, this is great, Jeff, oh my god! I’m so happy for you!”

“You don’t even know if I got in.”

Dottie held the envelope in her hand, feeling the weight of Jeff’s entire future on her palm. West Virginia State University, read the logo at the top. She knew what was at stake here; this was the last college he’d applied to but it was the only one that he actually gave a damn about. In the back of a drawer in Jeff’s bedroom desk sat three rejection letters from places he hadn’t even dared to dream he could attend: UPenn, UC Berkeley, and UT Austin, but with his GPA and SAT scores he knew they would never be a possibility for him. He would have had to go back in time and redo his entire high school career to even be near the level he had to be to get into any of those three. Still, he had gone through the trouble of applying to them to appease his father who was still upset he wasn’t willing to get shipped off to the military as his first option like he had done. Like his older brother had done. But there was something special about WVSU, the college his grandfather and mother had graduated from, an HBCU, a place where he would mean something, could become someone. A place where he would be more than yet another dumb teen being handed a gun he was terrified of ever having to use.

No, WVSU was the place he needed to be at. He wanted to be a Yellow Jacket more than he had ever wanted to be anything else in his life. He wanted to make his granddad proud, wanted to be his mother’s son. The bell ringing snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to look at Dottie, his face turning green, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“You got this,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed, grounding him. “We’re gonna be proud of you no matter what this letter says, but I just know that you got in.”

“I can’t go to the military, Dot.”

“You won’t. You got into West Virginia. Breathe, Jeff. Breathe.”

He nodded once, twice, and finally gave her a weak smile, moving to collect his things and head out for lunch. He realized he hadn’t copied what was on the blackboard but he was sure he could ask Dottie later. She had been writing as Mrs. Click was talking, she had to know what their exam would cover. In all honesty, he was very comforted by the fact that he could turn his brain off and let her take over for him, only worrying about silently existing within his own body and focusing on getting his nausea under control.

With the letter carefully tucked into his coat pocket again, he grabbed his books and followed his friend towards their lockers; Jeff was only barely aware that Donny had joined them on their way towards the cafeteria, excitedly chatting with Dottie about a mixtape he was working on for Eddie’s birthday. She kept a gentle lock on his arm at all times, guiding him through the hallways until they reached their table, the other boys already in their usual seats. Jeff sat down feeling heavier than he’d ever felt in his entire life and took a sip of Coke with trembling hands around the cold can in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

“You alright, man?” Eddie asked, looking him over carefully.

“Yeah,” Jeff’s voice came out strangled. “I, uh. I have news, I guess.”

“Okay,” his wild haired friend lifted his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“Jeff has a very important letter to open, and he’d like to do it with us,” Dottie clarified when the boy didn’t reply.

“College?” Eddie mouthed to her quietly, and smiled when she nodded once, her eyes wide. “Alright, gentlemen,” he lifted a hand to bring everyone’s conversations to a halt. “I’m gonna need everyone to be respectful and supportive right now, ‘kay? Jeff is about to find out if he has been granted safe passage out of Hawkins.”

Jeff stared at the letter with unfocused eyes for a few beats before he shifted forward in his seat. He thrust his hand towards Eddie and swallowed, making his decision as he spoke.

“You open it.”

The older boy looked at him with curious eyes and silently took the envelope from his hands, paying attention to how Jeff seemed to tense up but also relax at the same time once he realized there was no turning back now. Everyone at the table was waiting for their leader to take charge and Eddie felt a very familiar sensation settling on his chest - this is how they looked at him at the start of each Hellfire session: with trusting eyes, hopeful, excited, and, perhaps, even a little bit scared. He ripped open the letter, careful to not destroy what was inside, his face giving away nothing as he gave it a quick overlook.

“Dear Mr. Jeffrey Patton,” he began, rising from his chair and using the clear voice he had stored inside for pompous characters in his campaigns. Dustin chuckled and he continued. “After careful review of your application and supporting documents, we are pleased to extend this offer of acceptance-”

“HOLY SHIT!” Jeff let out the biggest screech they had ever heard coming from him in the many years the boys had known him.

“You got in!” Gareth and Dottie said at the same time, pulling him up and into a frantic hug as the rest of the boys cheered around the table.

“I got in!”

“Keep reading!” Mike pleaded with a grin.

“We are pleased to extend this offer of acceptance into the baccalaureate degree program at West Virginia State University for the September 1986 semester,” Eddie read in his normal voice, watching his friends erupt in celebration. “We are excited about you joining us as a student at WVSU!”

“Dude, you’re going to college!” Donny shook Jeff who still had disbelief painted all over his face.

“You’re not just going to college, you’re going to your dream college!” Dottie added, vibrating with excitement.

“Congrats, man,” Eddie told him, putting the letter back in his hand. “You totally deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Jeff looked at him for a second before pulling the taller boy into a side hug. “For everything.”

“Ah, no worries,” he palmed his back in return. “Come back and visit often, okay? We’re gonna miss our main singer.”

“I’ll kill you if you replace me,” he joked back, feeling lighter than a feather.

As everyone congratulated Jeff and lunch ticked on, Eddie had the sinking feeling that he was losing his grip on his own life in the last few months of his third senior year. He was barely hanging onto the hope that he’d finally get to graduate and pass down the Hellfire torch to Dustin and Mike, but the large backlog of assignments he had never completed piling at the back of his locker was making him much more uncomfortable than he’d like to admit. Yes, he had certainly been showing up for almost all his classes for a month straight now (thanks to a certain wavy haired girl sitting next to him at lunch every day, and also pulling him to the library during their shared free periods three times a week… and also insisting on religiously having a study group meeting every Wednesday after band practice, a meeting he’d stupidly proposed once because he wanted her to see him pretending to be a rockstar) but just showing up wasn’t even 50% of the grade. And Eddie wanted, no, needed to graduate in July. It was getting embarrassing to still be in high school as a soon to be 20 year old.

And now Jeff was leaving for Institute, West Virginia, and Dottie had an already punched ticket for Ann Arbor, Michigan since before he’d even met her, and Eddie felt… left behind. Gareth was gonna go to community college to become a great percussionist, Donny had his family business to get into after high school, and what did Eddie have? His stupid drug dealing gig that he was getting more and more uncomfortable handling the older he got, terrified of ending up in jail like his shitty Dad, and zero job prospects after graduation. He felt like he’d failed before he’d even had a chance to start. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice the cafeteria clearing out, his friends saying bye and hurrying to their next classes along with the rest of the Hawkins High students.

“Ed?” that gentle voice he adored so much reeled him back to Earth. “Everything okay?”

“Just peachy, darling,” he looked up at Dottie, standing next to him, her pastel folder clutched to her chest. “Aren’t you gonna be late for class?”

“No, I’ve got a few more minutes. I wanted to swing by the school newspaper club thingy before Spanish but I can stay with you if you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m okay, I’ll walk you,” he stood up, grabbing his lunchbox and gesturing for her to lead the way. “Why are you going there, though?”

“Oh, they are looking for an extra editor and I thought it could be fun.”

“I think our definitions of fun are very different, Dot.”

“Shut up,” she chuckled. “I just wanna try stuff before high school is over, y’know? Get a little variety in.”

“Are we boring you? Is Hellfire not enough? Oh my god, are you dumping us?” Eddie said, clutching his chest, ever the drama queen.

“I could never dump you, you idiot,” she glanced at him with a shy smile on her lips and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. She turned towards him as they reached the school newspaper’s room. “I’ll see you at Gareth’s later, okay? We can work on that essay you were complaining about yesterday.”

“I’ll get the guys to play your song as payment,” he leaned next to the door, looking down at her.

“It’s a deal. Now go to class!”

Eddie watched her disappear into the room with a goofy grin on his face, an idea taking shape in his brain. You just gotta clean up your act, Chrissy’s voice rang in his head, clear as day. Help her out a little bit! And did Eddie have the perfect solution for all his problems right at his fingertips.

Dottie stood in front of a sweet looking girl she was fairly sure was in her AP Research class and a boy with glasses and a scar on his face, wringing her hands behind her back nervously. The girl was looking over the resume Dottie had thrown together the previous night, taking advantage of her Dad’s computer to make it look professional and serious.

“Why do you wanna be an editor?” the boy asked as the girl flipped to the second page.

“Ms. Kelly recommended it to me, actually,” Dottie said. “She knows one of my options in college is to major in English and mentioned you were looking for volunteers.”

“One of your options?” the girl lifted an eyebrow, looking at her once before going back to her resume.

“Yes, it’s either English or Elementary Education.”

“Well, your credentials are… excellent,” the girl smiled at Dottie. “We are in AP Research together and I know you get better grades than me. An A in English Literature also. Where are you going to college?”

“University of Michigan.”

“Impressive,” the curly haired girl returned the papers back to Dot’s hands. “Welcome to the team, I’m Nancy, this is Fred.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you both. Congrats on Emerson!” she commented, noticing the shirt Nancy was wearing.

“Thanks! Come back after class and we’ll show you around.”

Donny was smoking under a ledge, shielding himself from the heavy rain while Dottie finished her little tour of The Weekly Streak’s room and met a few other students who were bustling around. Fred filled her in on her duties, which thankfully weren’t many: one of their editors had left to focus on his finals so now it was her responsibility to help edit and rewrite the stories submitted each week until they fit the high standards Nancy set for everyone as the newspaper’s editor-in-chief. As faith would have it, Nancy was Mike’s older sister and she was entirely too amused by the fact that Dottie was the girl that had caused her brother to spend an entire day pestering their mother for birthday gift ideas just a week ago. Once they were done with the show-and-tell, introductions had been made and a stack of papers had been shoved into Dottie’s hands, she said her goodbyes promising to bring back everything that had been assigned to her on Friday before lunch and hurried through the hallways to get to her very patient friend so they could pick up his bass and speed off to Gareth’s house.

Once they were settled in, Dottie, now sitting at her usual spot near the front, pulled out one of her textbooks to use as a hard surface and began to work through the unedited story stack, stopping every once in a while to watch her boys as they rocked the garage for all the neighbors to hear. Eddie was doing his best to distract her from her papers, and he was way too happy about the fact that he was succeeding more often than not; in her defense, she absolutely loved watching them perform and would gladly put her red pen down when her favorite long haired rockstar twirled around with his guitar, making faces and pointing at her when he wanted her to sing along. The last song they got to play before Gareth’s mom pulled up into the driveway was Hot Patootie from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the sole reason why they were now closing every Wednesday band practice with it, was that Dottie absolutely adored Rocky Horror. It was not a song they would have willingly played before, but Eddie kept making them practice it because it made her happy, and if the boys were being honest, they loved making their biggest fan happy. Especially because it meant that she’d be in a good mood going into their study session and would help her friends with their respective homework no matter how difficult the subject was without complaining once.

They were laying around in different parts of the living room, the radio turned on as background noise as they worked steadily through their pile of assignments. Gareth’s mom, happy to see the loud, rowdy teenagers she’d known for the past four years behave like contributing members of society, had brought them snacks to fuel their activities and retired to her bathroom to have a nice, long soak in the bathtub before her husband arrived from work. Donny was working on his Algebra worksheet at the dining table, Jeff and Gareth were going over the units for their Statistics final at the coffee table, and Dottie was on her final newspaper story on the floor next to Eddie who was currently suffering through an old English Literature assignment he had never completed.

“Fuckin’ shit,” he muttered, crossing out a sentence he had just written.

“What’s wrong?” Dottie asked, looking at his profile, his hair falling on his face as he laid on his stomach on the soft carpet. His eyelashes are so long, what the fuck.

“I can’t- I have no more words. Nothing is coming out anymore. I think I’ve used “therefore” at least three times in the same fucking paragraph,” he threw down his pen and rested his head on top of his arms.

“Come on, don’t give up yet. Let me see,” she pushed herself to a kneeling position and crawled towards him, dropping her weight so close to him that their shoulders were now touching.

Dottie read from his notebook carefully, snorting every once in a while when she found a sentence particularly funny or charming; he turned his head on his forearm, resting his cheek by his right wrist and watched her eyes move along the page, mesmerized. She lifted her gaze from the paper and smiled at him, before returning to his surprisingly legible handwriting.

“Okay, it’s not bad, but I think your paragraphs are out of order,” she said, grabbing his pen from the floor and drawing a few arrows on his notebook. “See, here, you talk about the symbolism in the buildings and make a connection with the importance of reputation, but you haven’t even established who the characters are yet, you do that in the next paragraph. You need to put this one first,” she drew a big number one on the margin next to the second blurb of text. “And here, in the third one, you argue that the story is about the duality of human nature but in the first paragraph you say that Jekyll was always evil, he just needed to let it out, which, fair enough, but if he was pure evil, then where’s the duality you talk about?”

“Can I just not use that sentence?” he watched her tap his pen to her lower lip, deep in thought.

“I mean, it’d be better to rework it but if you cut it out it wouldn’t be terrible. You’d still understand the rest.”

“And what about the million therefores?”

“Change this one-” she scribbled on the page. “-to “consequently”, and this one to “for this reason”. It’s not ideal but it should be alright.”

“Thank you, princess,” he said, lifting himself up on his arms to press a kiss to the right side of her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

“Get a D in English Lit?” she teased, a faint redness spreading through her cheeks.

Adorable, Eddie thought, for what was probably the millionth time since he’d met her. They kept working in silence, Dottie not making a move to get away from him, focused on the last sentences of the story she was checking for spelling mistakes. By now she’d read enough from reporter Mason Kaplan to know that he had atrocious spelling and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t give his work back to Nancy with such egregious errors. Drawing a little happy face at the bottom of the paper to mark it as revised, she let herself drop to the floor completely and rolled to lay on her back, eyes closed and hair falling around her head like a halo, letting her shoulders and neck rest for a bit. The movement distracted Eddie, who turned his head to watch her tired expression melt into one of pure relaxation.

She sighed, exhausted, and he had the overwhelming need to kiss her closed eyelids, help her sink into a comfy nap in the safety of his arms. Instead, he twirled his pen in his hand in an attempt to control his own limbs from doing something stupid mere feet away from their friends. At this point in time, Eddie had to admit to himself that he didn’t entirely care if they noticed him following her around like a lap dog, but he wasn’t ready to face rejection just yet. His plan was barely in motion; he hadn’t made his moves, he hadn’t “cleaned up” like Chrissy had suggested yet.

“You’re staring,” Dottie whispered, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“How would you even know that, your eyes are closed,” he muttered back.

“Because I don’t hear you writing and I know you,” she turned to look at him, noticing his big, gentle brown eyes on hers. “You’ve been distracted all day.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“Would you…” he began, stopping to check that the other boys were too busy to overhear their conversation. “Can you help me with school?”

“Is that not what we’re doing with this study group thing?” she was confused.

“Yes, but, like… more?” he cringed at his own words. It was hard to think with her face so close to his. “I really, really, really want to graduate and I think I’m close this time but I’m so stupid I-”

“Don’t do that,” Dottie frowned.

“What?”

“Don’t call yourself stupid. You’re not. You’re so smart, Eddie, it’s infuriating.”

A beat passed with them looking at each other’s expressions; hers was frustrated, his was disbelieving. It occurred to Dottie that no one had ever bothered to praise him, at least certainly not in an academic setting, and she wondered if that was part of the reason he felt nothing he ever did was enough so he had just stopped trying. She felt words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them, but truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hold them back this time. Not when he was staring at her like that.

“It’s actually upsetting how badly you think of yourself sometimes. Yeah, big deal, your grades suck but it’s because you don’t do the work, not because you can’t do it. I’ve literally gotten better at Calculus since I’ve started sitting next to you.”

“You had an A in Calc before you switched seats.”

“Yeah, and I used to cry while doing the worksheets before I had you to explain them to me. Why the fuck are there letters in my numbers?” he chuckled. “My point is that you are as smart as you are lazy.”

“Ouch,” he said, dramatically. At her pointed silence, he continued. “Look, I know that I’ve had plenty of opportunities and I blew them on my own, alright? And I really am grateful that you help me enough as it is but I was wondering if maybe you could, I don’t know, help me out for the finals? If I have to do senior year one more time, I’ll end up dropping out. I don’t wanna put my Uncle through that, I’m sure he’s embarrassed already, and it’s not like anyone will give me a job if I never graduate.”

He looked so dejected. Like he was carrying the world’s heaviest backpack and couldn’t afford to misstep now. Dottie’s heart broke for him and began running dates and numbers and bulleted lists in her head. She was going to make a study plan for him, and she was going to make sure he stuck to it no matter what. It was time someone showed him that he wasn’t doomed yet, that he could do this. She reached out a hand to his face, palm resting on his cheek and his eyes fluttered at the gentle gesture.

“You got this,” she said with such confidence that he couldn’t help but agree. “We are gonna figure out everything that you need to do to get your grades up, and we’re gonna work on that until finals week, okay? And you’re gonna come with me to the library on every free period and you’re going to actually do your work instead of watching me do mine while you doodle all over my books,” he smiled, knowing that she didn’t mind having his silly little drawings on the margins of her pages. “And we’re gonna get together every day after class and we’re gonna study. Three weeks, Eddie. Even on the weekends. I’m not gonna do your work for you.”

“I know. I don’t want you to do it for me, that’s not what I’m asking. I just kinda... need you there to tell me to do it.”

“Then I’ll do that for you. But you gotta promise you’re gonna listen to me, okay?”

“I always listen to you, darling,” he lifted his own hand to envelop hers, dragging it away from his face and pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“I’ll do everything you tell me to, I’m gonna pass all my exams and I’ll graduate and I’ll- I’ll fucking take you to prom. Hellfire Class of ‘86. I promise.”

“Good. Now finish your essay so we can go home before it starts hailing again,” she got up, heart racing and rosy cheeks, and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Three weeks. Eddie could pretend to be a fucking valedictorian candidate for three weeks if it meant he wouldn’t be disappointing her. And his Uncle, who had supported him all this time while he had been nothing but a piece of shit who refused to even crack open a textbook. May was his last chance. He could do this. He was gonna pass all his finals, deliver all the assignments he owed, turn 20, and get that goddamn diploma, or he’d die trying. And in all honesty, Eddie Munson had no desire to die just yet because there was a gorgeous girl that thought he was smart enough twirling around to a pop song on the radio in Gareth’s kitchen that he really wanted to kiss before his heart officially gave out.

taglist (let me know if you want me to add you!): @munsonology

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #hellfire club #stranger things 4 #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #nancy wheeler #fred benson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

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daegudrama · 29 days ago

Text

Title: Route 613

Pairing: Reader/Namjoon, Reader/Yoongi, Reader/Vmin

Summary: Reader wants to be the very best Pokémon trainer there ever was. Her first stop in that journey is Paldea University home to a myriad of higher education. Still working to get over her ex boyfriend, Yoongi, reader forms new connections while making a few questionable decisions along the way. Each battle bringing her closer to the glory she's always dreamed of. Will she succeed in becoming champion or will outside forces stop her from achieving her goal?

Word Count: 6.8K

Disclaimer: Real life ages mean nothing in this fic. Refer here for ages and my shitty graphics

cross posted to ao3 here

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter 10

The walk to the studio is quick, but your mind races with thoughts of how the photoshoot might go. By the time you arrive, a few of the other trainers are already there, waiting outside. You recognize a couple of them, students you’ve seen in passing or battled before. They eye you and Yoongi with quiet recognition, and you can feel the silent rivalry brewing already. The next few months are going to be a lot of that.

A staff member ushers everyone inside, where the studio is set up with bright lights and backdrops. The atmosphere is buzzing with energy, but there’s an underlying tension. These aren’t just your peers anymore, these are the competitors you’ll have to defeat.

Professor Oak is standing in front of the backdrop waiting for all sixteen trainers to arrive. Once everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder he claps his hands together with an excited smile.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it this far. The sixteen of you have been selected as Paldea University’s top trainers.” Gasps sound around you as Professor Oak speaks. He knew this was going to happen and he looks oh so pleased with himself. “I’m going to call your names, please step forward. Get acquainted with each other or don’t…the people around you are your competition.”

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest as Professor Oak begins calling names. “YN,” You step forward letting everyone look at you for a moment before you step back into line next to Yoongi. “Yoongi Min, Hiyyih Huening, Yunjin Huh, Jungkook Jeon, Chaewon Kim, Seungkwan Boo, Sana Minatozaki, Jihyo Park, Hajoon Lee, Jongho Choi, Junhui Wen, Soonyoung Kwon.” You look down the line to see who Soonyoung is because you swear you have never heard that name before. Everyone in this room should be familiar because you are in the same program. A third year student steps forward, one you have met several times. No one has ever called him by his given name before. Everyone calls him Hoshi.

“Jihoon Lee,” Again you look down the line and see another older student that has been nicknamed Woozi. “Mingyu Kim, and finally Taehyung Kim.”

The room is silent as the final name echoes around the studio. You glance over at Taehyung’s familiar face and see he has an air of confidence. He steps forward with a small, unreadable smile, as if he knows something the rest of you don’t.

With everyone standing shoulder to shoulder, Professor Oak clears his throat. “This year, we’re starting something new.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “We’re going to commemorate the top sixteen trainers with a photoshoot, something I hope becomes a tradition here at Paldea University.”

Murmurs ripple through the group, this is unprecedented. It’s clear from the surprise on some faces that no one expected this twist. You are glad you were warned ahead of time.

Professor Oak continues, “These photos will not only mark your journey but also remind future trainers of the level of competition they’ll need to rise to. You’re the first class to be honored this way, and I hope to see this tradition continue long after you’ve graduated.”

He gestures to the photographers. “Let’s get started. Individual shots first, followed by a group photo.”

You hear your name called and step forward, the reality of the moment sinking in. This is no casual photoshoot, it’s a declaration. Someone standing near the camera hands you a shirt similar to a soccer jersey. It's a deep green color with stripes of white on the side. On the front it says ‘Winter Tournament 20XX’ and on the back is your last name. After putting on the shirt the flash of the camera captures you in a moment of confidence, though your mind races with thoughts of the battles to come. This photo will represent the start of something that will likely outlast your time at Paldea, whether as a champion or a competitor. They take a second set of photos in your Oak’s club jacket.

Yoongi steps forward next, his gaze unwavering as the lights capture his cool demeanor. His competitive edge is palpable, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more in his expression when he glances your way. Does he have to do this right now?

As the photoshoot progresses, the tension builds. This isn’t just about recognition—it’s a reminder that every face in this room will soon be your direct competition. With only six weeks until the tournament, every moment counts. You are sandwiched between Hiyyih and Jungkook in the group photo and you wonder if this has anything to do with how Professor Oak thinks you might rank.

After the shoot, Professor Oak addresses the group once more. “This is the beginning. The competition is real, and the stakes are high. But remember, only two of you will get the honor of facing the gym leaders. And not a word of this until Friday!!”

════════════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ════════════

Until Friday you keep mostly to yourself, determined not to let anything about making the top sixteen slip. This makes it easier for you to spend countless hours training without interruption. It’s harder than you imagined to keep the secret but also the way everything seems to be shifting around you. The quiet rivalry with Yoongi is coming back, even though it’s unspoken. Hiyyih is helping keep you grounded, though you both feel the weight of what’s ahead.

Every conversation with Namjoon this week has felt strained. You know it’s because of the tournament, you can’t tell him about making the top sixteen, not yet. The rules are strict, and the last thing you want is to risk disqualification or whatever Professor Oak would do.

Still, Namjoon seems rightfully confused, maybe even hurt. Every time you avoid a hangout or cut a conversation short, you can see the question in his eyes, though he doesn’t say anything.

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, you’re feeling the weight of both the secret and your silence. The announcement about the winter tournament is set for 7PM, where the entire school will find out about the top sixteen trainers on the new battlefields and stands prepared just for this tournament. The excitement is palpable across campus, and it’s becoming harder to stay out of the buzz.

Just hours before the big announcement, Namjoon finally pulls you aside. His face is serious, eyes filled with concern as he corners you just outside one of the training grounds.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks, his voice slow, but steady.

You hesitate but nod, stepping away from the main path where others might overhear.

He shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes. "Look, I’ve noticed you’ve been...distant lately. Ever since I told you how I feel." He pauses, the tension heavy between you. “If I made you uncomfortable by confessing, I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to be burdened by or feel responsible for my feelings. I don’t want to lose our friendship because of it. But if it’s not that—if something else is going on—just tell me. Please.”

You feel your heart twist at his words. Namjoon’s vulnerability hits hard, and you hate that you’ve put him in this position. You want to reassure him, to tell him that it’s not what he thinks, but the words stick in your throat. The top sixteen is still a secret, and you can’t break that promise—not even for him.

You take a deep breath, shaking your head gently. "Namjoon, it’s not about that. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I promise." You try to offer him a small, reassuring smile. "There’s just... a lot going on right now that I can’t talk about. But it’s not what you’re thinking."

He frowns, clearly not satisfied with your vague explanation. "If it’s not that, then what? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

You want to tell him. You want to explain everything, but the words don’t come. You’re locked into this secret until 7 PM. You put a hand on his bicep giving it a light squeeze.

"I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me."

He sighs, looking down at his feet for a moment before nodding. "Okay...I trust you. But please, don’t shut me out." His voice softens, and you can see the worry etched in his features. "We’re still friends, right?"

"Of course," you answer quickly, and this time the smile you give him is genuine. "Always."

Namjoon steps back, giving you a small, tentative smile in return. "Alright. I guess I’ll see you at the announcement then."

As he walks away, you feel a mixture of relief and guilt. You know everything will come out soon enough, but until then, the weight of the secret keeps pressing down on you.

By 7 PM, the entire school gathers in the newly constructed Pokémon battlefields for the highly anticipated winter tournament. The atmosphere is electric as students fill the stands, their eyes glued to the large screens surrounding the pristine battlefield. Everyone is eager to learn who the top sixteen trainers are, the ones who will represent Paldea University in this year's tournament. The top sixteen are standing just out of view from most of the spectors.

Professor Oak strides to the center of the battlefield, his excitement evident in his broad smile. "Good evening, everyone!" His voice echoes across the arena, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. "Welcome to the winter tournament announcement, the first in our brand-new battlefields."

He pauses to gesture around at the expansive space, the shimmering lights reflecting off the smooth surfaces. "This year, we're unveiling not only the battle grounds but also the rankings of the top sixteen trainers, as determined by the evaluations of your professors. These rankings represent not only your battle abilities but also your growth, strategy, and potential as trainers."

The anticipation builds as Professor Oak continues, his voice commanding the attention of everyone in the room. You were not expecting this. He didn’t say anything about this. He always has another trick up his sleeve. You look to the side and see each of your competitors' faces filled with just as much confusion as yours. "Let’s get started, shall we? I’ll introduce the top sixteen trainers, ranked according to the recommendations of your professors."

The large screens come to life, displaying the names of the top sixteen trainers. Your heart races as you wait for your name to be called. The energy in the air is palpable, and every trainer standing nearby is on edge.

"Hiyyih Huening, ranked first."

The crowd erupts in surprise and applause as Hiyyih steps forward, her expression a mixture of pride and determination. You can see the fire in her eyes as she takes her place as the top-ranked trainer. She shoots you a confident smile, clearly ready for the challenge ahead. Hiyyih has earned this title, even if she won’t keep it for long.

"Jungkook Jeon, ranked second."

Jungkook steps forward, his name appearing on the screen in bold letters. The crowd murmurs in approval—Jungkook is known for his skill, and seeing him ranked this high is no surprise to anyone.

"YN, ranked third."

Your name echoes through the battlefield, and you step forward, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. The murmurs grow louder as people realize just how high you’ve been ranked. You steal a glance at Namjoon across the battlefield, catching the surprise on his face. There’s no turning back now.

Professor Oak continues calling out names, and the tension only rises with each ranking.

"Yoongi Min, ranked fourth."

Yoongi steps forward, his usual calm expression giving little away, though you know the competitive fire burns beneath the surface. He glances at you, a subtle acknowledgment of the challenge ahead.

"Jongho Choi, ranked fifth."

Jongho steps forward, his face unreadable but his stance radiating confidence. His presence in the top five causes another ripple of murmurs through the crowd.

"Taehyung Kim, ranked sixth."

"Hoshi Kwon, ranked seventh."

"Jihyo Park, ranked eighth."

The names continue, and the crowd grows louder with each reveal. You feel a sense of relief as you watch your friends take their places on the battlefield, knowing that the competition is going to be fierce.

Finally, Professor Oak reaches the end of the list.

"And rounding out the top sixteen, Yunjin Huh, ranked sixteenth."

She is going to be giving you an earful for sure. You aren’t sure you agree with Yunjin being last, but then again someone has to be last. Being selected at all means she has shown exceptional excellence. Though sometimes she does let her emotions rule her decisions. Several times you have watched her get flustered when it was obvious she was losing. It only made her performance worse.

With all the names called, Professor Oak smiles at the assembled trainers. "These rankings are just the beginning. Over the next six weeks we will tell you who the first round of competitors will be facing off against and over the course of this tournament, you’ll all have the chance to prove your skills. Remember, no ranking is final—the battles ahead will decide who truly stands at the top."

The crowd erupts in applause, excitement buzzing in the air as the tournament officially kicks off. You barely register the cheers, your mind racing with the weight of what’s ahead. You are swarmed by your friends, most of whom are now also your competitors.

“We are going to get drinks at Brock’s!” Jimin says, his arm proudly wrapped around Taehyung’s shoulder. “See you there.”

Jimin, Taehyung, Yunjin, Hiyyih, Yoongi and Chaewon walk off towards the many steps leading into town. They are practically bouncing with their excitement. Namjoon appears beside you with a proud smile playing on his lips.

Namjoon meets your eyes, his familiar smile back in place but tinged with relief. “I knew it,” he says, his voice warm with pride. “I knew you were going to be selected. Congratulations, YN.”

You smile back, your pulse still racing from the reveal to the entire school. “Thanks,” you say, feeling your shoulders loosen as the weight of keeping the secret lifts.

Namjoon shifts, glancing down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry for acting weird earlier,” he admits softly, his voice filled with honesty. “I guess I’ve just been overthinking. After I told you how I feel, I’ve been more…vulnerable, I guess? And with you being distant this week, it made me jump to conclusions that I messed up or pushed you away.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You’ve been so wrapped up in the tournament, so focused on keeping the secret, that you didn’t realize how much you were unintentionally shutting him out.

You open your mouth to respond, to maybe tell him something about your own feelings, but the words stall in your throat. Instead, you shift the conversation, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“When did you want to tell me? You know, before you kind of…blurted it out.”

Namjoon chuckles softly, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Honestly? I didn’t have a set moment. I thought maybe after the tournament, once everything calmed down. Then I was thinking two or three weeks from now so you would have time to process it before the tournament starts. But then, I felt like if I didn’t say it then, I’d never get another chance. So it just sort of came out.”

You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you told me. Now come on, let’s catch up with the rest of them.”

Namjoon and you walk together toward Brock’s, the bar that everyone is heading to after the announcement. As you near the bar, the sound of laughter and conversation spills out onto the street, along with the soft strumming of live acoustic music playing from inside. The warm glow of the neon sign above the door reads “Brock’s Tavern” in large, bold letters, and you can already tell the place is packed with students celebrating the reveal of the winter tournament rankings.

Stepping inside, the atmosphere is electric. The lights are low, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Strings of fairy lights hand across the ceiling, and the brick walls are adorned with pictures of famous trainer battles. The bar itself is polished wood, lined with stools, most of them already taken. People are standing around the high tables and booths, talking animatedly, clinking glasses, and toasting to the upcoming battles.

The scent of fire snacks, pizza, and fresh drinks fills the air, making your mouth water. The place hums with excitement, and it feels like everyone here is celebrating something. Over by the bar, Jimin is laughing loudly, clearly in his element, with Taehyung and Hiyyih engaged in a competitive arm wrestling match, drawing many cheers from those around them.

You and Namjoon make your way through the crowd joining your friends. Hiyyih hands you a drink and you gladly accept. She’s beaming with pride and you can’t help but think she deserves this ranking.

After a while you slip away the group finding yourself drifting towards Yoongi, who is casually against the back wall, sipping a drink. His expression is calm, but his eyes are alert, quietly taking everything in. You notice Yunjin seated nearby, just out of earshot, but her usual lively energy is missing. She’s nursing a drink, her eyes downcast, and you can’t help but wonder if her low ranking is weighing on her more than she’d like to admit. “Third place, huh? Not bad,” he says, his voice low and calm, but there’s a competitive edge to his words.

“Fourth’s not too shabby either,” you reply, matching his tone.

For a moment the two of you remain silent. You can tell he’s holding back from asking something, waiting for you to speak first. “So,” Yoongi finally breaks the silence, his voice low, teasing. “Did you have that little chat with Namjoon?”

You turn, your back stiffening at the question. When did he suddenly go back to rude Yoongi? He’s been oddly nice recently, decent even. Maybe it’s because of the time you’ve spent together in bed but still. Now right after the rankings come out, he’s suddenly cold again. You roll your eyes but don’t meet his gaze. You can’t let him know how confusing this feels right now.

“Why do you care?” you ask with a little more venom than necessary.

He takes a step towards you, his lips curling into that smirk that you both hate and can’t help but notice. It’s a look you’ve seen hundreds of times before, one that pulls you in and drives you mad all at once. Maybe he’s acting this way because he’s had a few too many to drink? “Oh, I don’t know…thought maybe you’d want to share how that went. What’d he say? Something sweet?” His voice drops, mocking, as if he’s already heard every word of the conversation and is just toying with you now.

Your fingers twitch at your side, irritation bubbling up as you finally meet his eyes. His expression is unreadable like he’s trying to gauge your reaction. Or maybe...maybe he’s angry? Upset that you ranked third and he ranked fourth. The idea tugs at your mind, but you brush it aside for now. “Yeah we talked.” you snap back. “What’s it to you?”

Yoongi hums, coming ever closer. Too close. His smirk widens as he peers down at you, eyes dark with that lazy intensity that never fails to make your pulse race. “Just wondering if he gave you everything you needed,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost intimate. “Or if you’re still looking for something else.”

The words hang in the air, thick with implication, and your heart races, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Is he jealous? Upset that you ranked higher? Or was this just Yoongi being Yoongi, pushing your buttons like he always does? The thought nags at you, but you force yourself to stay composed.

You step back slightly, lifting your chin with a forced smirk. “You think that’s any of your business?”

Yoongi’s grin widens, his dark eyes locked onto yours as he steps even closer, crowding your space. “I think it’s very much my business. You always come back, don’t you?”

His words hit deeper than you’d like to admit, the truth behind them cutting through your defenses. You always end up here, tangled in whatever this thing is between you two. It’s not soft or simple, it’s sharp, messy, and it pulls you in every time.

Your jaw clenches as you try to stand your ground. “You think too highly of yourself.”

He chuckles, the sound low and knowing, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is light but deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Maybe. But we both know how this goes.”

Your breath catches at his touch, but you force yourself to stay firm, even though your heart is pounding in your chest. “I’m not playing your games, Yoongi.”

His smirk deepens, turning darker, more dangerous. He leans in, his lips just brushing past your ear, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Who said anything about games?”

The words send a jolt through you, and you curse yourself for letting him get this close again. You know you should push him away, but instead, you’re stuck—frozen in the electric pull between you two, your body betraying you.

Yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you better than anyone.”

Your fists clench at your sides, frustration and something else—something dangerous—bubbling inside you. He always knows how to push your buttons, how to cut through your walls with just a look or a touch. And as much as you hate it, part of you knows he’s right.

“Yoongi—” you start, but your voice comes out sharper than you meant it to, and he cuts you off before you can finish.

“I’m free tonight,” he says, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “In case you get… lonely.” His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up, locking onto yours with a look that makes your breath catch.

The air between you feels thick, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken tension. For a second, you’re tempted. You can still feel the ghost of his touch, and part of you wants to fall back into it. But you can’t, you won’t.

“You wish,” you shoot back, defiant.

Yoongi’s smirk only deepens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Maybe. But I won’t be the one wishing later.”

There’s a long, charged silence between you, the tension crackling like static. Finally, you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And you love it,” Yoongi counters easily, his voice smooth as ever.

You don’t respond, just glare at him before turning away, your pulse still racing. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how he always knows exactly what to say to throw you off balance. But most of all, you hate that part of you doesn’t want him to stop.

As you walk away, you can still feel his eyes on you, his presence lingering even when you’re no longer standing next to him. And no matter how much you tell yourself you’re done with him, you know it’s not that simple. Because no matter what, you always end up right back here, caught in this dangerous, intoxicating pull.

“You good?” Hiyyih asks when you rejoin the group, her brow furrowed in concern.

You force a smile, shaking your head slightly to shake off the lingering tension from your encounter with Yoongi.

“Yeah, just... you know how it is.” You shrug, trying to keep your tone light.

Hiyyih eyes you skeptically, clearly not buying it. “You sure? You seemed a little... intense back there.” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “Was it about the rankings?”

You roll your eyes, feeling a flush of annoyance creeping up your neck. “I really don’t know.” You glance around the group, taking in their chatter and laughter, the familiar comfort of friends. It’s hard to believe how quickly things can shift from playful to complicated.

Hiyyih watches you closely, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to get too tangled up in whatever this is. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

You nod, feeling the weight of her words. “I know. I’m trying to keep my focus.”

“Good. Just remember, you have us.” She gestures to the rest of the group, who are still laughing and teasing one another, a comforting backdrop to the chaos swirling in your mind.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, genuinely grateful. It’s a small relief to have friends who see you through the madness. As the conversation shifts back to lighthearted banter, you force yourself to join in, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Yoongi, to the way he looks at you and how easily he pulls you in. Not wanting to think about these feelings any longer you decide it’s time to leave. “I’m going to head out.”

Hiyyih looks understanding and quickly offers to walk back to the dorm with you.

“It’s okay. I’ll walk with her.” Namjoon says, appearing behind you. You didn’t realize he was so close by.

“Joon, it’s okay I can walk home by myself.” You insist, but he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“I was going to leave soon anyway.” He replies.

With a brief goodbye to the rest of your friends Namjoon and you head into the cool night air. He takes your hand in his large one. It’s peaceful for a few moments before Namjoon speaks up.

“What happened back there?” His voice is soft and careful.

“Yoongi was being weird. He’s been so nice lately then…I guess I should explain what he was asking about.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me.” He says with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

You bite your lip before saying the next words. “Well it’s about you.”

“Huh?” Namjoon looks over at you with a questioning look.

“After you confessed to me I sat alone for a while, but then I ended up going to Yoongi’s dorm. He was very…” Your mind fills with images of Yoongi touching you. “understanding. I told him you confessed to me and I didn’t know what to do.”

“He must be jealous that you're spending time with me and that you ranked better than him.” Namjoon muses. You look into his eyes and are glad to see no anger. “You could’ve just talked to me.”

“My head was a mess. Still kind of is.”

He pulls you to a stop and cradles your cheek in his free hand. He pushes your hair away from your face. The dim street lights shining on his face somehow make him look even more dream like.

“That’s okay.” He brings his face closer to yours. Just inches between your lips. Your heart stammers in your chest. “I’m always here for you, YN.”

He backs away with a low laugh and the two of you continue back to your dorm. When you reach the door Namjoon drops your hand but doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Namjoon hesitates for a second, glancing at the door before meeting your eyes again. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He returns the smile, and together you step inside, the atmosphere between you two comfortable yet charged with an underlying current of unspoken emotions. As you close the door behind you, the quiet of your room seems to wrap around both of you, offering a sense of privacy and relief from the night’s tension.

Namjoon sits on the edge of your bed, looking around as if taking in the small details of your space. You move to join him, sitting beside him, close but not quite touching. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s the kind of silence that feels safe, like there’s no pressure to fill it with unnecessary words.

Eventually, you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. Namjoon lets out a soft sigh, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you a little closer. His touch is gentle, comforting, and you relax into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“Thank you for walking me home.” You murmur, your voice quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. Being next to him feels different, softer than what you shared with Yoongi. Namjoon’s presence is grounding, safe.

The two of you scoot to the top of your bed so you are leaning against the headboard. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing slow soothing circles on your side.

“I know part of what is causing this confused, torn feeling is me, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m still here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

You take in Namjoon’s words, feeling the sincerity behind them. His steady presence, the warmth of his body pressed against your, makes you feel secure in a way that surprises you. It’s as if all the chaos and confusion swirling inside your mind calms. You tilt your head slightly, glancing up at him.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Namjoon chuckles softly, his thumb continuing to draw slow circles on your side. “You don’t have to deserve me, YN. I want to be here.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “I know things are complicated with…everything else, but I’m okay with that. You can figure things out at your own pace. Just…let me be here with you while you do.”

His words make your chest tighten in a way that’s both comforting and overwhelming. He’s giving you space, but at the same time, he’s offering to stay by your side. It’s not something you’re used to.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You’re too good for me,” you say, half joking, but there’s a part of you that believes it.

Namjoon’s arm tightens around you just a little. “I think you’re selling yourself short.” he replies, his voice soft and reassuring.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of steady breathing. For a while the two of you lie there. Your head rested against his chest listening to the beat of his heart. His hand strokes the back of your hair.

Several minutes later his heart starts beating quickly and you tilt your head to look into his eyes.

“Are you nervous?” You say, and when he gives you a confused look you continue, “What were you thinking about?”

Namjoon covers his face with both hands, obviously embarrassed by whatever he was thinking about. You move to pull his hands away and when you are successful you see a beautiful blush painting his cheeks.

“I was thinking about kissing you.”

Your own heart races and before you can think better of it you reply, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Please kiss me.” You say, letting your hand rest on the curve of his jaw. His hand moves back down to your waist. “Maybe it’ll help me work through some things.”

“O-okay.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker with a mixture of uncertainty and longing as he leans in slowly, giving you ample time to change your mind. But you don’t want to, in fact you feel a pull toward him, something soft and magnetic. His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, as if he’s afraid of moving too quickly. The kiss is gentle, a slow, careful exploration, his warmth enveloping you as he lingers there.

His hand moves from your waist to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair as he deepens the kiss ever so slightly. It’s not rushed. It’s tender, as if he’s trying to tell you something with every soft movement of his lips, something beyond words. You respond in kind, your hand tracing along his jaw, feeling the light stubble beneath your fingers as you tilt your head to meet him more fully.

Namjoon pulls away for a brief moment, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His thumb brushes against your cheek, his gaze filled with something so soft and full of care that it makes your heart swell. “You okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, feeling breathless but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you reply softly, leaning back in before you lose your courage. “I’m more than okay.”

The second kiss is more assured, his lips pressing against yours with a bit more confidence, and you feel yourself melting into him. His hand slides from your neck down to your waist, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you. The warmth of his body seeps into your, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment.

You shift slightly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he adjusts his position, gently guiding you onto your back. He hovers over you, his weight comforting rather than overwhelming, his lips never leaving yours for more than a second as he kisses you again and again, each one sending sparks of warmth through your body.

It’s slow, careful—everything about this moment is soft, like he’s savoring every second with you, like he’s making sure you’re okay at every step. His kisses trail from your lips to the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then back up again, always returning to your lips, as if they’re home.

Namjoon shifts back onto his side pulling you close again. You gasp softly when his hand slips under your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back, the heat from his touch is making your skin tingle. But he doesn’t push any further, his movements always measured, asking silently if this is okay. And it is. It more than is.

Namjoon’s lips meet yours once more, his kiss deepening in intensity but still retaining the same gentleness. It’s like he’s memorizing every touch, every sigh that escapes your lips. His fingers press softly into your back, holding you closer as you both sink deeper into the kiss. The weight of him above you feels comforting, safe and you find yourself completely wrapped up in him and his warmth, his touch, and his quiet breaths against your skins.

Your hands travel up his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt as you move your fingers slowly, tracing the lines of his body like you’re learning him for the first time. Which you suppose, you are. Namjoon responds with a quiet, almost inaudible groan, his lips parting slightly as he kisses you more eagerly now. His tongue grazes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine, and you can feel his hesitation slipping away, replaced by the need to be closer to you.

His hand slides up your side, beneath the fabric of your shirt, but again, he never rushes. His touch is soft, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he pauses, giving you space to let him know if it’s too much.

You tilt your head slightly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch your breath, your eyes meeting his. Namjoon’s gaze is intense, filled with a mix of longing and something deeper, something like admiration. His thumb brushes across your lips, his breathing uneven as he looks down at you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, but still so soft, so full of care.

“It’s not,” you reply, your voice just as breathless. You guide his hand a little higher, encouraging him to explore, to keep going, because this feels right.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath, his fingers moving slowly up your side, brushing over your ribs before finally resting just beneath your chest. He’s still so careful, so considerate, as if he’s afraid of breaking this fragile moment. But the heat between you both is growing, and you can feel his heartbeat racing just as fast as yours.

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one a little more desperate, a little more hungry, like he’s finally letting himself give in to the feelings he’s been holding back. You respond eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you again. His lips move down to your neck, pressing soft, open mouth kisses along your skin, and you can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe, your fingertips tightening in his hair as he continues his slow exploration of your body. The sound of his name on your lips seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more fervent, more insistent, but never losing that underlying tenderness.

Namjoon’s lips linger on yours for just a moment longer before he pulls back, breathing heavily. He scoots his bottom half away from your embrace and you already know what he’s about to say. His forehead still rests against yours, but there’s a tension in his body now that wasn’t there before. His eyes, dark with desire, search yours as if weighing something deeply.

“YN,” he murmurs, his voice husky yet filled with restraint.“If we keep going…I’m going to get too excited, and I don’t want to rush anything.” He’s being honest, his cheeks flushed slightly as he pulls back just enough to give both of you space. “I want you to be more sure of your feelings before we do more.”

Namjoon’s words hang in the air between you, his voice gentle but filled with a weight that makes your heart tighten. His forehead presses softly against yours, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his breath catches as he tries to calm himself down.

“I want this to feel right for both of us,” he continues, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “I care about you too much to…rush things.” His thumb brushes against your side in slow, soothing circles, grounding you both in the moment.

You take a deep breath, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. He’s being so careful, so considerate, and it only makes your feelings for him grow stronger. The tenderness in his actions, the way he’s willing to hold back mostly for your sake, even though you can feel the desire burning between you both—it makes you realize just how special this is.

“I understand,” you whisper, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. It’s a gentle, reassuring gesture, one that tells him you’re okay with the pace he’s setting, that you appreciate the space he’s giving you to sort through your emotions. Even when you want to do so much more with him. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Namjoon smiles, his expression softening as he leans into the kiss for just a moment before pulling away. “You’re worth it,” he says simply, his voice filled with so much sincerity it makes your chest tighten.

With a quiet sigh, you both settle back into the comfortable embrace you’d shared before, the heat between you calming as you rest your head on his chest once again. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, while his other hand continues to stroke slow, soothing patterns along your side. The earlier tension has eased, replaced by a quiet, content feeling.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing, the steady thump of Namjoon’s heartbeat beneath your ear, and the soft rustling of fabric as you shift slightly to get more comfortable. You can feel the exhaustion from the day catching up with you, the warmth of his body against yours lulling you into a peaceful state of relaxation. The minutes tick by, and slowly, your eyes begin to drift shut. The weight of sleep tugs at you, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping into a peaceful slumber, still wrapped in Namjoon’s embrace. His breathing grows slower, more even, and before long, you can tell he’s fallen asleep too.

════════════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ════════════

In the morning you wake slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains. For a moment everything seems perfect, the lingering warmth, and the faint scent of Namjoon’s cologne on your sheets, but as your eyes adjust, you realize the space beside you is empty. The spot where Namjoon had been holding you all night is cold now.

#route 613 #route 613 chapter 10 #bts fanfic #Kim namjoon #min yoongi #Yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #raes fics #pokemon au #pokemon crossover #bangtan

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an1d10t · 1 year ago

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Yea okay I’m gonna do the Dutch school niveau thingy

(If you don’t want the explanation, go to the green text. It starts there-)

Let’s start with what what means and Dutch people. Please help me with Mavo and vmbo. I rarely interact with them and don’t really know-

So, is dutch people normally go to a primary school for about 8 years. We’ll get tests and at the end a Cito toets. Then they give us an advice.

If it is a little in between (een twijfel geval) we get a mix. For example, I have Havo/vwo and a friend of mine has Havo/mavo.

We have different levels amd different kinds of names for those levels. (If I can’t explain it, I am sorry-)

Vwo- vwo is the highest you can get. This prepares you for the university. It lasts 6 years in total

Havo- Havo is, in my experience, a bit easier than vwo. You can also get onto university with this. This lasts 5 years

Mavo- im pretty sure you can also get into the university with mavo. This lasts 4 years

Vmbo- vmbo is the lowest and you mainly get physical lessons. Like baking, taking care of animals, ect. This also lasts 4 years

(listen, I don’t know shit about this vmbo and had to redo this post like 10 times already. I’m sorry😭-)

Also, these are just the things my school has, so if I missed any, PLEASE CORRECT ME

There are also a few special classes.

Tto- tto stand for ‘twee talig onderwijs’ or in English, bilingual education. Most of the lessons with this are in English and you sometimes travel to another country. There are also exchange programs. Sadly tto is only for Havo and vwo

Sport klas- sport klas is for sporty people. Sometimes the second years prepare sport days for the school. They also get to skip lessons some times to do the sport

Kunst breed- kunst breed is with art. In my school, every Friday the people who filled in the papers for this go to the ACD classroom and make art.

Now finally onto what I think the people would do:

Will: probably Havo or mavo/havo. He might do sport klas but I’m not sure

Horace: mavo sport klas. Listen, this man is pretty good at grammar and begrijpend lezen. He seems like a person to be very good in Dutch if he was dutch

Crowley: havo/vwo tto. If I can do it, this guy can do it too.

Halt: also havo/vwo tto. But I feel like he’d also do kubstbreed

Alyss: vwo tto. Do I even need to explain??

Pauline: vwo. Really liked languages

Arald: mavo and I feel like he and Rodney really liked medieval history. Because you know, knights and sword fights

Rodney: mavo sportklas

Jenny: Vmbo. She is really, really, REALLY good at the cooking and likes to do things with her hands

George: vwo tto. He’s good at languages. Really good. (Please give me your skills, George)

Gilan: he either has like havo/vwo or vmbo. I cannot decide. But of course he does sportklas

#well this was #fun?#rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #halt o'carrick #sir rodney #baron arald #crowley meratyn #will treaty #alyss mainwaring #pauline dulacy #gilan davidson #jenny dalby #george carter #horace altman #ra #ra headcanons #?

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brianyololau · 3 months ago

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8-21-24

Muay thai has been getting more fun ever since yesterday. I had a hard session yesterday working on defense straight without being able to throw punches. 10 3 minute rounds back and forth.

Though it was hard and grueling in the moment, I actually had a lot of fun and felt a feeling of accomplishment afterwards. I wanted to work on defense and decided to find the courage to go sparring today.

It was crazy. I paired with this kid who was on his first week, and I out sparred him in both defense and offense. It felt good knowing my 6 weeks of going to class had a noticeable effect on my ability to fight. That was a good indicator I was making some kind of progress.

My next opponent was this short fat bjj coach who gave me a hard time yesterday in defense. I remember he wasn’t really giving me a break that day, and I felt overwhelmed a couple times. I came home that day thinking about how I could’ve done better, and I applied what I learned today. My defense was more correct and dialed in, but he struck me a couple times past my defense. He overwhelmed me still, and I couldn’t see his overhands from shelling up. However, I was able to stand my ground a lot better and at least apply some pressure back. Next time, I’ll have to have a stronger base and throw more counters to stop his close quarter combos.

The third guy was an asian who was cool. I can’t tell if he was going really easy on me because I was able to land a decent amount of taps on him. At one point, I disguised my upper cut with a long guard which caught him by surprise. I saw adesanya do that in his fight last week and took notes. He complimented me afterwards saying my feints were rly good and it got him a couple times. It didn’t work on my next partner though.

The fourth guy was this kid who outclassed me hard. He also knew how to utilize distance and was better at it than me. He had better evasion and countering too. His guard was loose but I couldnt get to him since he outclassed me with his defense and fighting IQ. It was like he already knew my moves and how to maneuver with them before I even threw. Only when he finished a combo did I really get a chance to exchange back as he’s pulling away.

After that, I had to tap out bc I was gassed like a mf. The first partner was too. We waited a bit and sparred again. This time, I was a lot more confident in the match. Someone started yelling at him in spanish to charge forward on me. So, I started being more commanding and focused on strategy and defense. It was great. He also got a few jabs in after making contact with me.

I couldn’t do more rounds after, so I stayed and watched the pros for a while. They were good. Just watching them fight and how they adjust to the other fighters was amazing. A few guys outclassed the kid who outclassed me. That’s when I realized there’s levels to this shit. Fucking monsters. I can’t imagine going toe to toe with the coach lol. Diego was in there saucin it up. It was cool af.

Anyways, I got work tomorrow morning, and I’m inspired to go in their to do the best I can. It’s all I can do for now, to keep trying and improving each day.

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eye-of-yelough · 11 months ago

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woe, numbers be upon you (for the dark urge questions) 1, 3, 4, 11, 13, 16, 21, 25, 30

WOWIE YOU SPOIL ME. THANK YOU

For context in case you or anyone reading this don’t know, Aeryn is an oc i’ve had since looong before bg3, he’s basically a self insert (except he’s isn’t, at all, because we have very little in common) who is my go-to guy to play as in video games. his personality, appearance and all that was all already in my head so. idk some things might not sense because i bend little things here n there to make him more like he is in my head.

ANOTHER thing is that i initially created this guy for the soul purpose of like. tortureporn. just a little meow meow for me to force all of sad horny little edgelord impulses onto with the hope that if i put it all into one character, i wouldn’t do it as much with my others. and then he kinda just evolved from there as i got more invested in him. but he’s still that tortureporn deep down so that’s why there’s So Much going on with him. just thought i’d warn ya.

1) What circumstances led to your durge picking their class/subclass?

Aeryn’s a level 8 “the great old one” warlock/level 4 “gloom stalker” ranger. for warlock, well. the thing you need to know about Aeryn is that he is. very pathetic. i always play him as a glass cannon. he likely wasn’t living up to Murder Daddy’s ambitious expectations for him as being the ultimate killing machine, so he made a deal for an arcane edge. as for gloom stalker urban ranger well. it’s the dark urge.

3) what would your durge consider to be their greatest skill? is this accurate?

seduction, and no. he is off-putting and desperate and only certain people find that charming. i’d say it’s his love. his empathy.

4) what would your durge consider to be their greatest flaw? is this accurate?

just… all of it. the Urge, the rampant sex addiction, (by extension, the need for people to find him physically attractive, that’s so strong it stops him from physically or socially transitioning, which leads him in this weird purgatory, flitting from girlmoding to boymoding depending on he wants to gain sex or respect from a social situation. suffice it to say, no one ever knows what to make of him.) desperate pathetic clingyness and people pleasing borne from a life of profound isolation and rejection, the fact that he’s so so so scared all the time. and, yeah. i’d say that’s pretty spot on.

11) what motivates you durge to either embrace or resist the urge?

fear. love. both ways. he never embraces the urge, never. not deep down, at least. he spends the whole span of the game trying to resist. he’s just… not very good at it. his vibe has always been that “as if it’s my fault my love language is acts of service and all i know how to do is kill” post.

13) how does your durge feel about killing?

horny. jokes* aside, Aeryn is um. more than a little suicidal if i’m being honest. (bear with me) and memory-fucked as he is, that feeling alongside the urge is all he really knows. the belief that life is nothing but one painful disappointment after another is his soul consistent trait. he honestly doesn’t know that life can be more than that. he also doesn’t know that others don’t feel the same. so that’s essentially how he keeps his guilt and shame on a leash. cant be guilty about killing if you see it as an act of mercy.

*it wasn’t a joke at all.

16) what is your durge’s greatest desire?

now this is one i’ve thought about. basically his perfect life would be as the right hand man (executioner or perhaps assassin) and lover (pet) of a great leader who supplies him with many shitheads and sorry bastards to take out his murderous urges on. and have whoever that leader is give him a pat on the head and tell him he’s doing a good job :) and they fuck scary style. (minthara hiiiiii) (yes i am a durgetash exes truther why do you ask)

21) what are two to three songs your durge would relate to?

so glad you asked.

stupid girl by garbage is Thee Signature Aeryn Song to me.

something rotten by placebo

and, as much as i hate to recommend a song by the worlds evilest band, this hurts by msi.

25) how does your durge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

conflicted. he’s like a mascot for his dark urge, and his arrival always means the worst. and yet, he just can’t not fall this silly little freak’s charms.

30) what are your durge’s intentions/goals at the end of the game?

this would be easier to answer if i knew what his canon ending was, but i don’t. i just finished my first ever playthrough earlier today, where he rejects Bhaal and the emperor and becomes a mind flayer and i can safely say that’s not it. (i romanced lae’zel, realised aeryn would be better suited with minthara around the end of act two, and came to the conclusion that this is not his canon run, so i’m just gonna do what feels right and whatever happens, happens) i’ve watched a few videos of the accept bhaal’s gift -> kill the netherbrain -> kill yourself or go crazy and piss yourself ending (which is so unsettling and i really shouldn’t have watched it at 5am) and its REALLY good but. yeah i don’t know.

thanks so much again for asking and letting me talk about my wretched thing. kisses

#oc aeryn #durge #your daily dose of idiocy #bg3

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stargazer-eyes · 6 years ago

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He’s as gentle as a kitten.

#x��rhun tia #ffxiv #red mage #i was going to inktober #but this already took me over 3 hours ;;#why must i be so slow #please give me more of this gentle kitten #i’m only 8 levels into this class but i already have a feeling he’s going to leave at the end of it #xrhun tia #xrhun #x’rhun

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daechwitatamic · 2 years ago

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Chapter 6: Other Storms || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary: This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

In which you get snowed in at the boys' house.

Chapter Warnings: language, drinking

Word Count: 4k

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 6: Other Storms

Friday, November 23rd

The forecast for Friday calls for practically blizzard conditions, some of the weather-people calling for up to damn near three feet of snow. You can practically feel it coming, the air just feels like snow, smells like snow. It’s clear that everyone on campus is keyed up in anticipation - no one pays any attention in your first two classes, and your third one gets canceled completely. You head home, intending on getting comfy, but the girls have other plans.

“Good, you’re here,” Bridget says, before you even get the door all the way open. “Get dressed, we’re going to Jin’s.”

“It’s snowing,” you point out.

“Yeah, she says. “That’s the point. We’re getting snowed in.”

You look at Kiko, hoping for some answers.

“Jin and Yoongi bought a ton of food,” she tells you flatly - clearly Bridget has been being a little Bridget about the plans. “We’re going to go over, eat dinner, drink and play board games and shit, and then walk back.”

“In the snow,” you clarify. “In a blizzard.”

Bridget rolls her eyes. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fine. We’re going to have fun.”

You look at Kiko again. Sometimes it felt like Bridget was six unsensible people in one, and Kiko was the only other voice of reason you could find.

“What are the chances we’ll get stuck there overnight?” you ask her.

“I’m packing my toothbrush,” she tells you.

An hour later, the three of you are trudging through campus. There are already almost two inches on the ground since it started, and it isn’t supposed to stop until mid-morning tomorrow. This is just the outskirts of the weather system anyway - the storm isn’t supposed to hit until later that night, with forecasted winds at almost hurricane levels. Twitter is already calling it a Bomb Cyclone.

“If I end up sleeping on a couch tonight, I will be very mad,” you inform everyone.

“Please,” Bridget scoffs. “You two are both guaranteed a bed. It’s me that’s the floater. My goal is to get Jungkook drunk enough that he’ll let me cuddle.”

You and Kiko both crack up, but you manage to defend yourself through the laughter. “I am not guaranteed a bed,” you say. “We’ve kissed. Once. And I was wearing this.” You pat happily at your very puffy winter coat. It’s not sexy, but damn you are warm and toasty. Your toothbrush sticks out of your pocket.

“We all know he wouldn’t tell you no, though,” she says.

“We don’t know anything of the sort,” you mumble. Kiko gives you a disapproving nudge. Bridget stops walking and faces you completely.

“You need to stop playing it down like he doesn’t actually like you,” she tells you firmly. “He does - you know it, we know it, he knows it. The guys know it. You’re going to mess it up if you don’t go in more confidently.”

Isn’t that almost the same thing you’d told Kiko last week?

You text Taehyung when the house is in sight - “I’m at your house 😊😊”. His answer comes in as Jin opens the front door for you girls -

[8:47 PM] Taehyung: i’m not there ☹️☹️☹️

You haven’t had time to process this before being swept into the house. Yoongi and Jimin are on opposite ends of one of the couches, Taehyung and Jungkook nowhere to be seen. Yoongi gets up when he sees the three of you; Kiko gravitates right to his side.

“No disappearing,” Jin tells him sternly, the first time you’ve ever seen anyone boss Yoongi around. “You’re socializing tonight. You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi grumbles, wrapping one arm around Kiko’s shoulders. “I promised a few hours. The clock’s ticking.”

Jin ignores him completely, telling you girls to come back to the kitchen and get some food. You’re starting to feel like your family should have skipped the campus meal plan and just sent Seokjin some money instead.

You all put a movie on while you’re eating dinner, but no one’s really watching - instead you all chat and joke around. Jungkook comes down from the second floor about halfway down and disappears into the kitchen to get his own helping, and then he joins you all in the living room. You keep looking out the back windows, where you can see the snow clearly thanks to the streetlight. It’s still coming down heavily, and it seems like the wind is picking up, too.

[9:12 PM] You: where are you?

[9:14 PM] Taehyung: my parents

[9:16 PM] Taehyung: its like an hour west

[9:17 PM] Taehyung: i would have stayed if i knew you were coming over ☹️

You’re disappointed, too. This is twice in a row you’ve come to Jin’s hoping to hang out with Taehyung and had that plan dashed.

[9:20 PM] You: i wont lie, i kind of feel like i’m here for no reason now lol

[9:22 PM] Taehyung: chat up jimin, he’s single

[9:23 PM] Taehyung: great ass, too

[9:25 PM] You: whats with u and ppls asses???

[9:27 PM] Taehyung: i like what i like 🤷

You put your phone away for a while as a board game gets set up. Bridget hands you a steaming mug with a lemon slice and a cinnamon stick in it.

“It’s got whiskey,” she tells you when you look at her questioningly. “But it’s really good.”

She turns out to be right, and as you all gather around the coffee table to play, damn is the vibe just perfect - hot mug between your hands, lamps low throughout the room, your friends’ laughter skittering around your edges, the snow falling so fast outside you can barely keep up with it.

Only one thing missing, really.

Later, when you’re on your third hot toddy, laying sideways across Jin’s living room rug, the storm really picks up. The wind tantrums and howls to the point that the windows rattle with each angry gust, and when you look out the window at the streetlight all you can really see is white.

“You girls probably shouldn’t try walking back,” Yoongi says, eyeing the window.

“Gee, who could have ever seen that coming?” you mutter, flopping to your back.

Everyone’s a little drunk, sleepy, lolling around the couches and the floor. The tv continues to play a film, entirely ignored.

Jungkook walks to the window and peers outside. “I haven’t seen it snow like this since -.”

Jimin jumps in, pointing a finger at him. “That’s exactly what I was just thinking.”

“Since what?” asks Bridget absently, from where she hangs upside down off the front of the couch.

“We were in a wreck back in February, it was snowing just like this,” Jimin explains.

“Tae was driving,” Jungkook adds. “He got the worst of it, but we’re both still doing physical therapy.”

It goes eerily quiet. You get the crawling, guilty feeling that you just found out something Taehyung would rather you not know.

“Would he mind you telling me?” you ask, nervous.

“I’m telling you my business, not his,” Jungkook shrugs.

“We don’t have to keep talking about it,” Jimin says, sending you a look that feels approving. “But yeah… I’m glad we’re all inside, safe and sound.”

“Well with that spectacular mood-killer,” Yoongi says, rising, “Kiko and I are heading down to work on a track.”

“Sure,” Jimin deadpans.

You jump in before it can turn into bickering. “The last one was so good, I really liked it.”

Yoongi looks surprised. “You heard the track?”

You look at Kiko, unsure if you had just gotten her in trouble - maybe she wasn’t supposed to send it. “Uh, yeah? The Sirens demo? I thought it was amazing.”

“Me too,” Bridget sings, still upside down, and possibly a lot drunker than you.

“Cool,” he says, shifting from foot to foot. “Well, when we wrap up this one, let me know what you think.”

They disappear down the basement stairs, Kiko giving you and Bridget a saucy wave as she goes.

“What’s with you and Tae, anyway?” Jimin asks, launching directly into the previous conversation. “He won’t tell us anything.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Um? Let me think how to put this… enough is ‘going on’ that my answer is - nothing yet?”

“But you think it will,” Jungkook clarifies.

“If things continue how they’ve been going? Then I guess?” You feel your face heat up at the attention and interrogation and you’re relieved when the conversation moves along and the topic changes.

[12:04 AM] You: we need to have a team meeting re: consistent messaging

[12:05 AM] You: getting a lot of questions… don’t know what the official response should be

[12:08 AM] Taehyung: official response should be fuck off and mind your business Jeon Jungkook

[12:10 AM] You: and Park Jimin

[12:11 AM] Taehyung: and park jimin

[12:14 AM] Taehyung: you staying at the house tonight?

[12:16 AM] You: yeeeeeeeep. Which couch is comfier? 🤔

[12:17 AM] Taehyung: omg no. the couches are gross, do not do that to urself

[12:19 AM] You: if you tell me to try jimin again i swear i’ll -

[12:20 AM] Taehyung: 🤡🤡🤡

[12:24 AM] Taehyung: was gonna suggest my room? if thats not too weird?

You look at this text for a while, thinking. Would you rather sleep in a bed than a beer-soaked frathouse couch? Yes. But Taehyung’s bed? It feels… intimate. It’s making you feel shy, and he’s not even here.

[12:28 AM] You: u sure about that? what if i go through your stuff?? 🙃

[12:30 AM] Taehyung: ……..

[12:31 AM] You: lol i’ll behave. but srsly, you’d be ok with that?

[12:33 AM] Taehyung: yep np - text me when u get ready for bed 🙂

You sent him back a thumbs up and key back into the conversation happening around you. The guys seem to be very busy ribbing Jin about his love life.

“I don’t care, man,” Jungkook is saying on a laugh. “Until you speak to her, it doesn’t count.”

“It counts!” Jin protests. “We see each other every day and she always smiles at me -.”

“Dear god, listen to yourself,” Jimin says in mock horror. “The delusion, I swear.”

“Jin’s in love with a girl that comes to his job every day,” Bridget updates you. “He knows her coffee order.”

“She orders the same thing every time,” Jin shouts, ears going bright red. “You make a specific macchiato thirty-six times, you remember it!”

“What about you guys?” you ask, eyeing Jungkook and Jimin.

“You mean am I in love with someone I’ve never spoken to?” Jimin sasses.

“We speak,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

Jungkook flops backwards and begins answering you while looking at the ceiling. “I’m not trying to fall in love with someone right now,” he says. “There’s time for that later. I want to have fun for now.”

“Being with the right person is fun,” you point out.

“And who tries to fall in love?” Bridget adds. “It’s not something you schedule. It just happens. You’ve heard all the songs - we’re powerless to fight it.”

“Not B with the ‘MYG featuring Kiko’ lyric!” you shout, rolling over to point at her in appreciation. She grins at you across the room.

Jin’s the first to head up to bed, and surprisingly, Jungkook is next. You get up to follow, telling Bridget and Jimin goodnight.

“Jungkook, uh,” you say, as you climb the stairs behind him, “can you show me which room is Taehyung’s? He said I could sleep there. I can show you the text if you want.”

Jungkook snorts at you. “I don’t need proof,” he says. “Here, it’s the middle one. Bathroom’s on the right.”

“Thanks,” you say, as Jungkook heads further down the hall and enters the room at the end. You stop in the bathroom to brush your teeth, and then head across the hall to Taehyung’s closed bedroom door. You stand outside, frozen, unable to make yourself lift your hand to open it.

Don’t be stupid, you tell yourself. He’s not even here.

You push open the door and shut it behind you, navigating the dark room by cellphone light. You find a bedside lamp and click it on. The room is fairly small - smaller than the triple that you share in the dorm building - and holds a bed, a chest of drawers, a wingback chair shoved in the corner with a tall pile of clean, folded laundry on its seat, and a glass desk with a simple rolling black chair pushed up to it. The furniture seems oddly mismatched - the bedframe and the chest are plywood, old and inexpensive looking, typical student choices. But the wingback chair and the glass desk strike you as different - they’re kind of fancy, they speak to a touch of class you hadn’t seen in Taehyung yet.

You text him - “I’m in your room 🙃” and immediately run your hands through your hair, preparing for the incoming -

Your phone lights up with a facetime call.

“How’s my room?” he asks in lieu of hello.

“Cleaner than I expected,” you admit, looking around. You sit on the end of his bed, the window behind you clearly displaying the heavily waving branches of a tree outside, being battered by the storm. “Except for the pile of laundry.”

“How dare you slander Laundry Mountain,” he says seriously, and you laugh.

“I’m really sorry I’m not there,” he says then, voice quiet, as if he’s not home alone and doesn’t want to be overheard. He’s lounging in a white t-shirt, absently messing with his hair.

“Me too, but don’t feel bad about it. There’ll be other nights.”

“I don’t know,” he says, “there’s something special about being holed up inside together during a storm. It’s romantic.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you romancing me?”

He frowns, leaning closer to the camera. “Have I not been clear about that? I’ve been romancing you since that party.”

“If your interesting spider facts are your idea of romancing, it’s not going to go so great,” you tell him ruefully.

He laughs, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “Okay, I started after that. Anyway, did you bring stuff for staying over?”

You reach over to his nightstand, where you’ve carefully set down your toothbrush. You wave it at him cheerfully.

“Do you want something clean to sleep in?” he asks. “I’ve got basketball shorts and t-shirts in the drawers. Second drawer has tshirts, shorts are in the one under them.”

“Are you sure?” you ask again.

“Why not?” he challenges. “Are you going to ruin them?”

You giggle. “Guess not,” you say, and take the phone with you over to the chest of drawers. You open the third drawer and pull out a pair of blue and black shorts, the material cool against your fingers. You take a plain white t-shirt and go back over to the bed.

“I’m putting you down while I change,” you tell him.

He sighs dramatically. “If you insist.”

“I insist, Kim Taehyung,” you say sassily, and toss the phone on the bed so he can watch his own ceiling as you get changed. Then you pull down the comforter and slide under the top sheet, reaching to pick the phone back up as you settle in.

“I’m back,” you tell him, and he just looks at you silently for a minute, until you can’t take the silence and you ask, “What?”

“It’s intensely weird,” he tells you, “looking at you lay in my bed. In my clothes.”

“You can’t even see the shorts,” you point out.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I know they’re there.”

“Define weird,” you request.

“Can’t,” he tells you. “It’s ineffable.”

“Wow,” you say. “Vocab.”

He shrugs. “I’m more than just a pretty face,” he deadpans.

You laugh out loud. “Try,” you say again. “You can’t tell me it’s weird, I’ll be anxious. Good weird? Bad weird? Should I go back to the gross couch?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s definitely good. Like… it’s honestly hot, but I’m upset about it?” He laughs. “It makes me feel like you should be right next to me, I should be able to reach out and touch you.” His voice goes low, the same way it sounded before he’d kissed you at the trail, and he asks, “Is it bad that I want that?”

You breathe deeply, turning to lay on your side, holding the phone so you stay in view. His pillows and blankets smell like him.

“No,” you say quietly after a minute, lowering your gaze, feeling weirdly vulnerable. “I want that, too.”

You’re both quiet for a minute, just breathing and looking at each other, and then you ask, “How’s the storm there?”

He turns to look behind him, where there must be a window. “We aren’t supposed to get as much as campus is,” he tells you. “But it’s snowing pretty hard.”

The snow makes you think of something.

“Hey, Taehyung?” you say, a little unsure. He looks back at you, giving you his full attention. “The guys were talking tonight… about the last snowstorm we had.”

You watch his face change as he understands what you’re telling him. You’ve never seen him look like this - he goes from soft and sleepy to absolutely grim, maybe even a little angry.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I don’t want to make you upset. It’s just, I didn’t want to put you in a position where I know something about your life that you didn’t know I knew. If that makes sense.”

He sighs, looking away from the phone. There’s a defeated slump to his shoulders that reminds you of the party when he’d hurt his ankle on the stairs. That moment suddenly makes a lot more sense. “It does,” he says, finally. “Did Jungkook tell you I ruined his life?”

This throws you completely. “What? No? Nothing even close to that? All he mentioned was that you both still do PT.”

He grimaces. “Yeah, we both got our legs a little fucked up. He was sitting behind me, that’s the side that got hit.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you whisper.

“Thanks,” he says, still looking so serious. You’re both quiet for a minute.

“So,” you say finally, “Jin and the coffee shop girl, huh?”

“I’d rather talk about Yoongi and your roommate,” Taehyung admits, perking back up. “Is she there too?”

You chuckle. “They’re downstairs ‘working on a track’.”

You lapse into sleepy silence again. Taehyung yawns, stretching.

“Your bed’s really comfortable,” you murmur, eyes heavy.

“Yes,” he says seriously, “it can be a very magical place.”

You’re so surprised that you laugh out loud, trying to muffle the sound with his comforter. “You’re really in a mood tonight,” you accuse.

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “Look at the view I have.”

You roll your eyes, but you feel yourself blushing.

“Should I let you go to sleep?” he asks quietly, after you’re quiet again for a few minutes.

“I guess so,” you say. “I really wish you were snowed in with us, Taehyung.”

His voice is so gentle as he tells you, “There’ll be other storms. Sleep well, okay?”

Saturday, November 24th

A crash wakes you - you sit up in bed, grabbing for your phone on instinct, no idea where the fuck you are. It comes back to you by degrees - it’s Taehyung’s bed, Taehyung’s room, at the boys’ house. You click on your phone to check the time - it’s five in the morning. You click on the bedside lamp and rub your face, then pull your messy bedhead into a low ponytail. You shuffle over to Taehyung’s chest of drawers and hunt for a hoodie. When you find one, bright yellow, you pull it on and head across the hall to the bathroom, the real reason you got out of the bed at all.

Once you’re up, though, you decide to investigate the source of the crash. You make your way down the stairs. The kitchen light is on, so you head that way.

Jimin is there, and he looks at you sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says. “I dropped the toaster.”

“What are you doing up already?” you ask him blearily.

He chuckles. “I’m still up, actually.”

“Go to bed,” you chastise, dropping heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. After a minute you ask, “Do you guys have a coffee pot?”

Jimin looks around the kitchen quickly, as if he can’t remember. “We did,” he muses. “I think we broke it.”

You glance at the clock again. Even if you were on campus - which you’re not, and getting there is going to be interesting since the roads are currently snow-covered and it’s still snowing - it’s Saturday and the coffee shop doesn’t open until eight-thirty.

“You could have some of Taehyung’s tea?” Jimin suggests. “It’s still caffeine.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” you agree.

As he starts heating up the water for you - which is sweet - he tells you, “Normally we have a strict rule about touching someone else’s food without permission, but you’re a girl so you’re automatically granted some leeway. Plus you’re a girl that he likes, so you basically get to do whatever you want.”

Your stomach flips when he says this, as if it’s been a huge secret that Taehyung likes you.

As you rise to make the tea how you like it, Jimin watches you thoughtfully.

“What?” you finally ask, self-conscious.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking out of the daze. “I was just thinking. About Taehyung.”

“Oh?” you say, moving to sit down with your steaming mug. Jimin’s tone is light, but you get the feeling that he’s really serious right now.

“We’ve been best friends for a really long time,” he tells you.

“Is this a ‘don’t hurt my best friend’ talk?” you tease.

“No,” he tells you, leaning forward intently. “Honestly, I think you’ll be really good for him. I just wanted to make sure you know that with Taehyung… I know he comes off really playful and all that. It’s just - he’s - I’ve seen him go through… a lot of stuff. There’s more to him than meets the eye, is all. I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

You remember Taehyung telling you over waffles that being aware of your own darkness helped you recognize it in others.

“I think that’s true for most people,” you say evenly. “Isn’t finding that out just a normal part of getting close to someone?”

Jimin nods, considering this. “I guess so,” he says, “if you’re actually invested in getting to know them fully. Not everyone is.”

“You mean, other girls he’s dated?” you say, feeling very clever.

He gives you an I’m not falling for that look. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “I’m going to bed now. Help yourself to food if you get hungry.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, waving as he leaves. You take a picture of your mug and text Taehyung - “apparently I owe you some fancy tea?” - and then turn to watch the snow come down as the sky gets lighter and lighter with each passing minute.

–

When the snow stops, midmorning, all four guys head outside with shovels to start digging out the cars. You, Bridget, and Kiko watch from the front window as the boys work. About halfway through, the city plow comes up the street, clearing the road.

You make Taehyung’s bed and leave the clothes he’d let you borrow folded up on the end of it. Except for the hoodie. You take the hoodie.

Yoongi drives the three of you back to campus, you and Bridget giggling and poking each other in the backseat.

Your next text from Taehyung comes in later, after you’ve all had dinner and returned to the room.

[8:59 PM] Taehyung: i seem to be missing something 🤔

You put the hood up and snap a cute selfie, squeezing your eyes shut and cheesing, and send it to him.

[9:02 PM] Taehyung: 😤

[9:04 PM] You: guess you’ll have to come get it since u miss it so much???

[9:05 PM] Taehyung: i’m tempted tbh

[9:06 PM] Taehyung: but not really for the hoodie…

Wednesday, November 28th

Taehyung facetimes you each day that you don’t see him for tutoring - usually after dinner, and usually under the guise of a Chekhov question.

On Wednesday morning, you meet at the coffee shop instead of the library.

“You really need to get off academic probation,” you tell him. “Hanging out with you while I’m on the clock is starting to make me feel weird.”

“But you do such a good job making sure I’m awake,” he pouts adorably.

That night, though, he texts you a screenshot from his school email: glowing praise from Professor Watanabe on his “notable improvement” and a solid B+ on the paper.

“Officially passing!” he sends.

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reply, dm, ask, or reblog - more than you know!

As always, a huge thank you to @kookstempo for being the bestest little pumpkin and for beta-ing! A million wocks for you!

#taehyung x reader #dailydaegu #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #s2l #taehyung angst #college au #f2l #bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: what was hidden #taehyung smut #(but not in this chapter for full disclosure)#bts x reader

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ywpd-translations · 2 years ago

Text

Ride 689: The senpai one year older

Pag 1

3: More, Onoda-kun!!

We have to become stronger

4: We have to raise our pace a little

If we keep going like this

4: We won't catch up to the first years!!

Yes!!

5: Aaaaaaaa

After this...

Pag 2

1: We'll only have our own strength

Pag 3

2: I can see them!!

3: Onoda-san and the others!!

Onii-chan!!

They're getting closer, even though there was a distance of three minutes

4: The bridge that's our finish line is right before our eyes - let's get away, Danchiku

Yeah, Issa

5: Let's switch, Onoda-kun!!

You did a good job...

Pag 4

1: Now, leave it

To us!!

2: Don't say the same thing as me, Hotshot

That's my line!! Naruko!!

3: P.... lease.....

Waaa- Onoda.... he fell behind

4: Let's catch the first years!!

That's.... bad, what's with that acceleration!!

Pag 5

2: Ahhh, dammit, even though I though we could manage it today

3: Kakaka, not yet!

Keep practicing, Kabu!!

Ugh...!! It was just an accident today!! It just happened that I had no strength left!!

4: By the way, why did I have to run with the first years, Imaizumi!?

I'm a second year!!

5: Ah... Kawada

6: That's

7: I guess that's because your strength and experience in the club are the same level of the first years?

Ugh.... don't put it so bluntly, you bastard!!

8: You can always get to the second years's side if you work hard and your status goes up

Ugh.... ugh.... dammit, alright I got it

9: Really though.... Hotshot, you're so strict with Kawada

Hahaha serves you right, Kawada!

Really?

I told you to speak politely to me, Kaburagi!!

Pag 6

1: Let's go eat lunch on the rooftop

Alright

2: Onoda-kun

3: Ah, Kanzaki-san

4: You're helping the teachers?

Yes... that's right, they asked me to take this to the reference room

5: My class, too. Let's go together

Okay

Pag 7

1: Ah, who during today's morning practice?

The second years' side caught up!

2: You sure are great

I fell behind at the end, though

3: It's getting warmer in the mornings, isn't it? Even the warm isn't cold to the touch anymore

4: It's already April after all

It's spring

5: Yeah

6: The school too

7: has become quiet

Pag 8

1: The third years are graduating

Pag 10

3: They're having the graduation ceremony, and the closing ceremony for the current students is in two weeks

Its' a bit lonely

Pag 11

1: Yeah...

3: Koga-san, and Aoyagi-san, and.... Teshima-san

Pag 12

1: They.... graduated

...yeah

3: The time spent with the “senpai a year older than you” is long

4: so, compared to the third year senpai when we were in their first year

Pag 13

1: It's different.... it feels lonely.....

….yeah

Pag 14

3: Teshima-san, Aoyagi-san, Koga-san – the third years really worked hard

Pag 15

1: Catch up, first years

It's a game of tag

Ah, the second years still haven't given up

Use these

I'm the only one who isn't decided

Teshima!!

2: Get through!!

I'm glad

3: Many things happened, but we always ran watching your backs from up close

Pag 16

1: Onoda

2: Onodaa!!

3: Onoda

4: Yes!!

5: Thank you so much!!

Pag 17

1: Now....

2: Onoda, you clean the whiteboard please

Since it's to write things like informations and practice menus

I'll leave it to you

3: Erase.... this....?

Imaizumi-kun?

4: No no no, no way no way no way

5: But

As the captain

I have to harden my heart....

6: No way...!!

No, since this is my job... I have to hold on tight

But... really.... this....

7: Oh, you're early, Onoda-kun!!

Waaaa-!!

8: What are you doing with the whiteboard?

Hahaha, it's nothing

Pag 18

1: When I met Kaburagi at the school shop earlier

He was super excited

Haha, is- is that so?

2: There were really more than five of the special left!!

It's a miracle!! I really might be in luck because it's spring!!

You say so, but you still only bought four of them

3: Maybe he'll buy a lottery ticket and really win

Yeah, Kaburagi-kun really likes that yakisoba bread

4: But he could able to buy the bread just because there aren't third years anymore

Pag 19

1: This morning too, he said something like “it just happened that I had no strenght left, and so I lost”

That's

3: The third years graduated and he's not here anymore, so he he hasn't that power

That guy used to gling to Aoyagi

5: Kaburagi-kun....

He doesn't realize it himself

6: Really... he's such an idiot....

7: But I miss them too

Perm-senpai!! Silent-senpai!!

8: …. saying that, and there's no one to make fun of

Pag 20

1: They took care of us, we fought, and we even ran together at the Inter High

They gave us so much

2: Naruko-kun

3: I feel like Teshima-san will suddenly appear in the clubroom saying something like “I'm between exams”

7: But that's not gonna happen!!

'cause he graduated!!

8: And I want to thank them, and return the favour

9: But I can't do that.... now

But don't worry, I told you already, Onoda-kun

Pag 21

1: The favours with received from our senpai

we'll return them to our kouhai!!

4: It's almost spring break...

and after that we'll already be

Pag 22

1: Third years!!

3: “Third year”....!!

Pag 23

2: Yes!!

That's right!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowapeda #yowamushi pedal spoilers #yowamushi pedal manga #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal translations #ride 689 #i hope you have tissues with you when you read this chapter :)#im. SUFFERING.#IVE BEEN CRYING OVER THIS SINCE YESTERDAY I CANT I WASNT EXPECTING THIS WEEK'S CHAPTER TO KILL ME #WTF WATANABE #where do i even start ;A;#first:everyone is crying over the third years graduating AND SO AM I GIVE THEM BACK TO MEI NEED THEM #THEY HAVE GRUADUATED THIS CHAPTER AND I ALREADY MISS THEM MORE THAN ANYTHING #GIVE ME MY JUNTA BACK WATANABE I CANT LIVE WITHOUT HIM ;a;#Naruko's speech at then end hit me SO HARD #out of everyone i wasNOT expecting NARUKO OF ALL PEOPLE TO BE SO EMOTIONAL #i mean i knew everyone would be emotional but for NARUKO to make such a speech???? I WANT TO THANK THEM AND REPAY THEM #I KEEP EXPECTING TESHIMA-SAN TO JUST COME INTO THE CLUBROOM #BUT THAT'S NOT GONNA HAPPEN BC THEYVE GRADUATED!!!#WELL GUESS IM CRYING ALRIGHT #also also ALSO #what he says about kabuuuuuuu #please i cant i love kabu and his relationship with aoyagi SO MUCH and knowing that kabu is suffering bc aoyagi graduated #BUT HE DOESNT EVEN REALIZE IT #its killing me really i cant i cant i cant #the fond way naruko talks about him too ;A; bc he KNOWS HE KNOWS WHAT KABU IS GOING THROUGH #BC HE LITERALLY WENT THROUGH IT TOO LAST YEAR WHEN TADOKORO GRADUATED #pleaaaaaseeeee the fact that its canon canon that kabu used to cling to aoyagi ;A;#yes i ship them SUE ME

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cupofteaguk · 4 years ago

Text

switching my positions

summary: Fresh out of college, Min Yoongi makes a name for himself amongst his online fanbase as an artist who writes about the ins and outs of falling in love. But when he is signed to a record label, his producer insists that he reveal a public romantic relationship to weed off any potential scandals or dangerous assumptions about the source of his love songs. So who else should Yoongi turn to, but you: his manager—but more than that, his best friend and secret crush.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: solo artist!yoongi, manager!y/n, fake dating au, friends to lovers au | fluff/angst

warnings: yoongi starts off as a musician on youtube but it’s not really highlighted for most of the story, kim seokjin is a Hot Music Executive who’ll take good care of his favorite boy, jungkook gets promoted from a cameraman to a bodyguard and i love to see it <3, nayeon + hoseok cameo as radio show hosts BECAUSE THIS STORY HAS SO MANY CHARACTERS I’M SORRY, IU shows up as a ~superstar~ because i love her so much, it’s a slow burn fic what can i say, mutual pining, actually an idiots to lovers plot tbh ????, recreational alcohol consumption, POV switches occasionally but i try to make it as obvious as possible as to what is going on, mentions of insecurity, there’s angst BUT IT’S A HAPPY ENDING !!!

word count: 40.1k

a/n: big big thank you to @gukyi for being my fic consultant for this story! she encouraged me and believed in this story more than I ever could (and contributed like 50% of the foundation that made this fic into what it is), and also reminded me that yes this is a fic so no it doesn’t require one hundred percent accuracy to the music industry despite every discord message i sent her falling somewhere along the lines of “how realistic is this scenario…” she was a very big support for this fic, and this story wouldn’t have existed without her!!

and regarding the word count… my hand slipped. I’ve clowned this fic a lot over the past month but I am really happy that this is done and so so excited for you all to read it. Pls enjoy!!!!!!! Xx

CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY

You’re late.

Yoongi lets you know that much as you have to shove your way through a rather large crowd of people to reach him. When he turns away from his keyboard to glance down at you, your chest is heaving and your knees are bent in order for your hands to rest upon your thighs. There’s a plastic bag curled on your arm, the hard plastic of CD cases reflecting off the street lamps.

“Sorry, sorry!” You breathe out, giving yourself a few more seconds to catch your breath. Nothing more, nothing less, because there is a crowd of people around you, currently staring you down, counting down the seconds until the clock struck 8:00—but many people wondering just who were you to shove your way towards the front. “The printer wasn’t working, and do you realize how difficult it is to get your stupid picture into these cases?”

Yoongi scoffs, walking towards you and holding both his hands out. “Don’t call them stupid, you took the picture,” He hisses, taking the plastic bag from you and rummaging through the many CDs you had to make for him last minute. After ensuring that everything he had asked for is in this very bag, he softens up. “But thanks for getting these done for me.”

You finally are able to straighten up into a full standing position. “Not my fault you underestimated how many of your wonderful fans were going to show up.”

Yoongi reaches over and presses his index finger straight into your forehead for that comment. The force knocks you back a few steps, and Yoongi takes your few seconds of distractions to pull a phone out of his pocket. “Just go off to the side, dummy, my show starts soon.”

“Fine, fine,” You tease back, easy smile, but your hand goes up to take the phone from him. “Break a leg, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi gives you a playful glare but he turns away from you to line up his CDs along the now-table next to his set. As soon as he starts placing CDs atop the surface, a small line of people step from the crowd—pointing to the CDs and holding out a stack of cash. Yoongi nods, takes the money, and hands over the CD. This happens a few more times before the line of people have died down. Yoongi looks over at the significantly less amount of cases at his table, and looks over at you, where he flashes a thumbs up.

As Yoongi steps up to his keyboard and microphone, the crowd around him starts to cheer. The claps echo through the gathering of people, enough to draw the attention of passersby who crane their heads to see who has attracted so many listeners.

Yoongi’s fingers curl around the microphone. “Hey guys, thank you all for coming out today.”

The crowd claps back in acknowledgement, a few of them giving their own shy nods and waves towards Yoongi—gestures that the boy responds with his own nods and gummy smiles.

His attention returns back to the next set of words he’ll speak into the microphone. “I got a couple covers and original songs for tonight, all requested by you guys—so let’s have some fun today.” His voice is deep, raspy and gentle, croaks slightly along the edges, but a perfect reflection of the soothing nature he brings to his audience.

And you are attune to every single second of it. Of course you are. You blend into the crowd but really your responsibilities for Yoongi lie far beyond just packaging CDs for him and dashing through hoards of people at the last fucking second to make your delivery. You further prove this further by logging into his phone and clicking into the first background music he’s produced for today’s show. Using the music as a guide, Yoongi starts to sing. His fingers dance across the keyboard to bring an extra sound to his performance—to give it that extra live element that his fans love.

You know that Yoongi has added these additional things over the months because he adores his fanbase and would likely do anything and everything he could to give them the best experience he could offer. After all, they’ve propelled him to this very spot—his own little corner of the bustling city streets amongst all the bars, shops, universities, street food stalls, and cafes.

As the music continues from one song to the next, and Yoongi shifts his focus from singing to rapping to the in betweens, you see his passion. You hear it in his voice, in the way his lines string together where it seems like the boy doesn’t require oxygen anymore. Months of these live shows, even longer years to get here—and the people around him only continue to watch him in awe. Just like he’s done since the beginning.

Min Yoongi started off his music career on Youtube, where he uploaded music covers with his own special beat thrown into the mix. Yoongi enjoyed music arrangement (still does), and used his videos as an opportunity to explore that hobby and share it with people who could also enjoy it. And enjoy it people did, as viewers started pouring in and his fanbase grew in the form of positive comments and increasing subscribers. From some videos, Yoongi had always teased the idea of original songs he had written in various notebooks that expressed the wide range of his emotions—overall all the trials and tribulations of growing up: the notion of love in all its forms. Normally, there was always a fear of an audience losing interest at the prospect of original songs, especially coming from someone who previously arranged already popular #1 hits.

But that never happened with Min Yoongi. His songwriting abilities became part of his brand—became his entire brand. Yoongi always wrote out love to be more than sappy pop songs or tragic heartbreak. He established himself as someone who seemed to speak from the mind of every single person he came into contact with. At least, that’s what his comment section claims.

In the beginning of his Youtube career, you found Yoongi’s online persona unusual and amusing to say the least, but it was always clouded with an air of sweetness and sensibility. After all, you had known him about a year before Youtube was even an option for him to pursue. The pair of you met in a general ed college class—big lecture halls and voices getting lost in the background as the professors’ voice boomed through speaker systems. Yoongi had asked to borrow a pencil, and the pair of you spent the rest of the class making side-handed comments about the lecture material. You sat next to each other for the rest of the semester and have been friends ever since.

So it’s not like Yoongi’s core characteristics have ever been anything other than caring, thoughtful, or loyal—he’s just never been outwardly expressive about those emotions. But Youtube changed everything: it’s made him a more vocal person, more open about his feelings as well as his need to share those feelings with the world.

The world responded positively—wrote in the comments that they would love to hear some of his original songs, that he had already provided just a small taste of his talent and left them an insatiable desire for more.

As soon as you and Yoongi graduated, his commitment to Youtube increased tenfold. With the previous obligations of assignments, papers, and research internships out of the way, it left more time for writing, for filming, for editing, for sharing. As his work levels increased, so did his subscribers. And so did the attention.

You’ll never forget the day his followers suggested live street performances in one of Yoongi’s neighboring cities—a city street more specifically that was famous for taking in street performances of all origins and talents, a place for him to show off his freestyling on a keyboard and finally meet his fans firsthand. The idea caught on so quickly and vividly that Yoongi was immediately attracted to the idea. He held his first performance just a few months ago, as a thank you present for reaching one million subscribers. If you had trouble materializing Yoongi’s musical success before, the first live performance and meet and greet Yoongi hosted did well to eradicate all those thoughts.

Hundreds of people showed up—standing alongside the shops, restaurants, food vendors, and cafes that already lined the streets, everyone intersecting to meet the artist who made them feel heard.

You still remember that day very vividly. Yoongi had been so nervous that day, had worked so hard to put together the perfect set for his fans. Obviously, though, he had nothing to worry about. Soon, one show turned into two, and just like the request for live performances and meet and greets, the question of monetary compensation became a topic of discussion amongst Yoongi’s fans. That’s where the question of albums came into play: a singular place for Yoongi to put his covers and original place—and charge money for it as well!

As per the request, eventually you and Yoongi decided that exclusive covers and original songs would be part of his album as a way to open up different modes of access rather than take away an individual’s general (free of charge) chance to view Yoongi’s content and just simply support without having to spend money. The introduction of his albums has been a very recent development, something added into Yoongi’s live performances after the tenth show and usually always sold out by the end of any aforementioned show. From what you’ve been able to see as of now, the albums have been a good addition.

In terms of Yoongi’s current career, you acknowledge that it has always been you and Yoongi—him staying up late for last minute song-writing sessions or recording or arranging a specific set of chords he had been holding off for weeks, or you arranging the time and date of his live shows and fulfilling requests to put songs on CDs and figure out how to market those in an era of streaming services. And if there’s anyone who knows that he has what it takes to get big—it’s you. After all, you would do anything for him. As you would have done from the moment you met him.

An hour later—after twenty songs and a swaying crowd around him singing along—the last song fades out and Yoongi pulls back from the microphone to catch his breath. Everyone else around him seems to hold onto their own, before Yoongi pulls himself back towards the mic to utter his last words for the night: “Thanks for coming out you guys. I really, really appreciate it.”

In the midst of the claps and cheers, Yoongi smiles towards the audience, turns around to address the circle of crowd that has formed around him.

As some of the crowd begins to disperse and some begin to linger for a potential meet and greet, Yoongi hastily remembers to return back to his mic for one last word to his audience. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!”

You smile to yourself as members of the crowd acknowledge his thanks with thanks of their own. As you watch Yoongi start disassembling his equipment for the night, you simply stand where you’ve stood for the past hour, allowing the crowd to simmer past you towards their next destination for the time. You pocket Yoongi’s phone into your coat, waiting for a few minutes, before you slip around towards the front of the crowd. There, a boy stands in front of a tripod, and his fingers dance around to unclip his camera from the standee.

“You get the whole thing, Jungkook?” You ask with the tilt of your head.

Jungkook whirls towards you, bright eyes full of excitement as he holds the camera with both his hands now. He utters your name. “Oh shit, yeah I did. We’ll get to see how Yoongi’s mic set up works.” He taps to the cord that connects the mic on Yoongi’s clothes and on his piano into the camera.

You perk up at the sight of new technology. “Oooh, going fancy with us, I see JK. Very future.”

Jungkook’s grin widens, as it always does when talking about cameras and filmography. “Yes. Future…” He stretches out the word with the exact dips, curls, and croaks the way Squidward does in that one Spongebob episode, which makes you laugh. Jungkook clicks through the video of Yoongi’s set that he’s just recorded, before he clicks the screen off and lowers the camera. “It’ll probably be better if I wait until we get back to look through the footage. I’m sure Yoongi is anxious to get back too…” He looks up towards where Yoongi is supposed to be standing a few feet away, but the younger boy trails off. “Hey, look over there.” He jerks his chin towards Yoongi. “Some guy is talking to him. Do you know him?”

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion—none of your college friends had texted saying they were going to come by and listen in on Yoongi’s set—you crane your own neck towards the direction Jungkook is gesturing to. Up ahead, Yoongi is indeed talking to some guy that you don’t recognize so of course it would peak your curiosity.

It’s a feeling that increases tenfold when Yoongi looks up, seems to find you from his search, and points across the space right at you. There’s even something in his eyes that beg you to walk over to him. This makes your frown deepen, because what the hell is this about?

Min Yoongi doesn’t allow for too much vocal expression that doesn’t involve the assistance of a keyboard or a music arrangement, but he speaks into the microphone without thinking. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!” His smile widens as the crowd responds with the claps and cheers of their own—all responding to him and communicating with him. This is it, this is what makes coming out to do these shows all worth it. Obviously there’s a thrill he gets from being in front of a camera and another thrill from uploading a video that people can access from all over the world. But to see the faces of the people who have left positive comments underneath those aforementioned videos… now that’s a completely different kind of feeling he didn’t think he would enjoy so much.

So Yoongi steps away from the mic to put away his equipment for the day. He only gets so far as to open the case for his microphone and mic holder before he’s hearing his name behind him. Turning around, he is faced with a few unfamiliar and a few familiar fans that are asking him for pictures and a short conversation. He indulges them, of course he does, and he signs a few albums while he’s at it.

It’s like you always teased him about: he really is a softie for his fans.

The fan interactions only last for a few minutes, before another voice comes in—it’s a deeper voice and radiates so much confidence and presence that it actually halts the next fan from trying to finish a conversation with Yoongi. All gazes turn towards the source of the voice: it’s a tall man with broad shoulders, pointy boots and a long coat that drapes down, hands stuffed into the pocket of that very coat. He looks like a model.

The man gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry for interrupting, but I need to request a chat with Mr. Min and am in a bit of a hurry. Do you mind if I cut in for a moment?”

The fan gives a weak smile. “N-No problem.”

Yoongi gives his own small smile. “Sorry about that. Oh, here.” He quickly makes a grab for the CD in her hesitant hands, signing his name across the sleek surface. “Thanks for coming by. Have a good rest of the night.”

Her smile brightens. “Thank you so much!” With a quick little bow, she runs off towards her friends.

This leaves Yoongi alone with the stranger. “What can I help you with?”

The stranger extends his arm. “Mr. Min, I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m a music executive. Nice to meet you.”

Music executive. These two words pique Yoongi’s interest. Just enough. “Wow, uh, nice to meet you sir.” Yoongi can’t help but lower his head slightly in a small bow as he returns Kim Seokjin’s handshake.

Seokjin waves him off. “Oh, no need to be so formal Mr. Min. I just thought that I should finally come by to introduce myself. I’ve been following your Youtube channel for awhile and think that you’re extremely talented, very capable to be a recording artist, in fact.”

Yoongi blinks in surprise, completely taken aback by the direction of this conversation. When he came out for his show today, having a conversation with a whole ass music executive hadn’t been on the list of things he was expecting. Of course, it was always a dream of his to be a recording artist. But he thought something like that would always just remain a dream. “T-Thank you.”

Seokjin continues. “Honestly, this is the third live performance of yours that I attended. Artists like you who radiate lots of passion and dedication both through the screen and on a stage are pretty rare. But your confidence and presence is quite admirable.”

At that, Yoongi can’t help but laugh a little. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t call this a stage, Mr. Kim, it’s just a small street corner.”

Seokjin laughs. “Fair enough—but you treat this little street corner like a stage and I find that cool. It appears that that’s what a lot of your fans think as well.” He pauses. “Mr. Min,” He starts up again after a moment. “Have you ever considered becoming a recording artist? Signing with a music label, releasing music and being able to reach millions of people? Having concerts in venues all over the world?”

At the question, Yoongi utters a scoff of disbelief. “I have,” He acknowledges after a few minutes. “Having this youtube channel and these street performances is amazing…”

“Of course,” Seokjin replies with a nod.

“But sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to do more than that. So, to answer your question, I have thought about it before. Many times, in fact.”

Seokjin nods again. “What if I told you that I was interested in signing you, Mr. Min?”

Yoongi stares at that, stares and stares with unblinking eyes, one hundred percent of his attention on the man standing in front of him—waiting for the signs, waiting to see the laugh or the glint that gives away his prankster tendencies. But none of those things come. Seokjin just stares right back, challenging him to question him and agree to his claim.

But Yoongi is younger, more naive, so of course he falls for it. “Why would you want to sign me?”

Seokjin grins. “Mr. Min, I like to think I’m pretty good at spotting talented people who have a fully fledged career ahead of them—which is something my gut is telling me that you can do. And don’t worry, it’s not just the gut feeling I have. Like I mentioned, I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a few months and I’ve seen the numbers and the turn out. You clearly have what it takes to bring fans in, keep them, and create events that’ll drive their attention—and I want to help you make an opportunity out of that.”

Yoongi hears the words of the older man, he really does, but he still cannot help the feeling of his head spinning at all the positive things Kim Seokjin says to him. Not only that he believes Yoongi has what it takes to make it, but that Yoongi has the concrete numbers to back that up. He is offering Yoongi an opportunity—an opportunity that seemed much too big for his youtube channel to birth, an opportunity that he had always just written off as nothing more than a dream. Yet for Seokjin to say that it could be more than that? And for all of this to happen on a normal performance night?

Was Yoongi about to faint right now or what.

Seokjin takes in Yoongi’s stunned silence and smiles. “I understand that this could be a lot to take in. No worries. I have a card for you to take—so call me when you make up your mind, alright?” He rummages into the pocket of his coat before producing a business card. The name KSJ RECORDS is printed on the surface, shiny lettering in sleek font.

Yoongi takes it wordlessly.

“By the way, do you have a manager?” Seokjin asks. “You can have them reach out to me if that’ll make it easier.”

Yoongi stays quiet for a moment. He doesn’t have a manager; he never really saw the need for one if his schedule was as simple as it was. After all, it was more than enough for him to handle with you—!

His mind explodes, as if someone had just plugged it into an outlet. His gaze flickers to you, where he sees you now standing just a few feet away next to Jungkook. You’re already staring back at him, but your head tilts slightly as if you could read his internal struggle. Before Yoongi can even figure why he’s looking at you, his body seems to act on its own. His arm raises, finger pointing straight at you. “She’s over there.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, seeming to read something in his gaze that even Yoongi couldn’t figure out. Still, you walk over to them. “What’s going on?”

Seokjin acts first, turning towards you and giving you a nod in greeting. “Hi there, I’m Kim Seokjin. Yoongi says you’re his manager, is that correct?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question because you definitely were not Yoongi’s manager. He knows that you know this. You give Yoongi another look, and his eyes widen at you, poorly attempting to transmit a singular message: please.

You understand immediately, of course you do (you’re his best friend), as you turn back to look at Seokjin. “I am, it’s nice to meet you.”

The pair of you shake hands. “I was just telling Mr. Min over there that I was interested in signing him to my company. I’m a music executive for KSJ records, and think that he would make a great addition to the team.”

It takes you a second to process the news, but you do so quicker and much more graceful than Yoongi could ever hope to do. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You turn to look at him, bright-eyed. “Yoongi, that’s amazing!”

“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Seokjin continues to explain. “I don’t blame him, it’s a lot to process. I just told him that he could have you call me once he made up his mind. Then, contracts could be drawn up.” He pauses for a moment, then seems to scramble on something when you don’t say anything immediately. “Of course, you would remain his manager. I’m sure that he’s gotten as far as he has with your help. I would want you part of Mr. Min’s team regardless.” Seokjin composes himself quickly afterwards. “Like I said, take some time to come to a decision and let me know. Let me give you my card as well.” He mirrors his previous movement at Yoongi towards you now until you have his business card between your fingers.

“W-Well,” You start, lowering the card and offering up your hand. “Thank you so much for coming by, Mr. Kim. We’ll be sure to send you a response soon.”

Seokjin takes your hand carefully, giving it a firm shake. “I look forward to hearing from you.” He turns to Yoongi. “And I hope we’ll be able to work together, Mr. Min.”

Yoongi blinks, but he snaps himself out long enough to return Seokjin’s handshake. “Y-Yes…” He replies, still feeling completely starstruck by what the fuck this encounter had just been. “T-Thank you for stopping by…” He trails off. He stays quiet as he watches Seokjin give one last departing word before he’s turning around and making his way down the street of the city.

When he regains some of his attention back, he turns to find that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression across your face. “Let’s head back,” You say at least, holding up the business card. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“No way,” Jungkook utters, completely shocked as he practically throws himself onto the couch in the living room. His camera equipment has been set down near the door, too much exhaustion present in its owner for the trudge back into his room. “You got casted today? That’s incredible, hyung!”

“I-I didn’t even realize what was going on,” Yoongi grumbles back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I still wonder if that moment even happened or if I conjured it up in a strange fever dream.”

You raise your hand slightly. “I was there. Can confirm that it was real.” You dig the business card out of your pocket and stare down at it.

Jungkook hikes himself deeper into the couch as he turns on his phone to start scrolling. “I gotta know who this guy is. Kim Seokjin you said? Of KSJ records?”

“Yeah, KSJ records,” Yoongi replies, looking down at his own business card. “He seemed pretty legit.”

A whistle from Jungkook confirms that. “Yeah, he’s definitely real. And look at that!” Jungkook turns the phone over to expose the photographs of Seokjin. “Used to be a singer as well. I bet he knows a lot about the industry.”

Yoongi nods. “He did seem nice.”

“So, does that mean you’re planning to meet up with him? Get signed and all that jazz?”

“All that jazz?” Yoongi echoes, but he shakes his head before he could go off on that tangent. “But honestly? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. I really do love youtube and do want to continue that, but I just feel like there’s more for me to explore with the right connections.”

Jungkook grins. “Wow, I can’t believe my roommate is gonna be famous.” He says the last word with a bite of curl in his tone, flashing a teasing smile when Yoongi merely glares in embarrassment. Jungkook’s eyes flicker further back towards where you are standing in the apartment, calling your name to get your attention. “What do you think of the idea, Miss. Manager?”

You perk up at that. “Before I get into my answer—when did I suddenly become your manager? I don’t remember us ever having that conversation.” You’re situated in the kitchen, drumming one hand on the counter and using the other hand to stir some last night boxed mac and cheese.

Yoongi coughs at your observation, sinking himself further down into the couch. “I didn’t want Seokjin to think I was an idiot or something for not having a manager. But when I do officially make up my mind…” He angles his head to stare over at you. “You’ll do it for me, right? You’ll actually be my manager?”

You frown, hesitant. “You’re serious about asking me? I don’t know anything about being a manager though.”

Yoongi almost pouts at that, sitting up so he can whirl around completely on the couch to face you. “But you know me and my music career almost better than anyone! And you graduated with a business degree, what do you mean you don’t know anything about being a manager?”

You flush hotly at that. “It was just a general business degree, Yoongi, it seems like what you need to make it big is a legit artist manager! Someone who will actually know how to schedule your tour dates or keep up with your public image and know exactly how to market you to the general public. You really want me doing that for you?”

Yoongi gaps at that. “Okay, but who’s the one who literally schedules my street performances and helps me with editing my videos?”

“Jungkook does some of the editing too,” You grumble underneath your breath.

“Yah! Stop selling yourself short!” Yoongi interjects, pointing at you accusingly. He does, however, lower his finger long enough to turn and address his roommate. “Not that you don’t help out with any of the editing, Jungkook…”

Jungkook waves him off. “I know where my talents lie.”

Yoongi turns back to you. “Besides, Seokjin acknowledged that you and I basically come as a packaged deal. He saw that you were working just as hard to get me my gigs.”

You give him a one-shouldered shrug, the hesitation still laced in your tone. “I don’t know Yoongi. I just don’t want to fuck up and jeopardize your shot.”

Yoongi’s attention is one hundred percent focused on you now, so much so that he has made his way into the kitchen and has come so close that he can switch off the stove that held the macaroni and cheese. “Hey, listen, the only reason I’ve even been given a shot was thanks to you. You work just as hard as me to keep my channel up and running—and you already have another job on the side, so you don’t have to do anything for me. But you do.” He plants both his hands on your shoulders and twists you around. “Would you be my manager? Please? I seriously don’t trust anyone else enough to do this for me.”

You sigh, staring down Yoongi as tensely as he’s staring you down. He sees the flicker of continuing hesitation in your eyes, and responds with just tightening his grip on your shoulders—trying to convey as much pleading as he could to you. Honestly, if you rejected his request, he knows that he wouldn’t be able to do this without you.

So when you seem to realize that he won’t give up, you sigh and look down for a moment. “Damn that I can never say no to you, Min Yoongi.”

Hearing those words of confirmation, Yoongi’s gaze hyper focuses on you. Even when you look back over at him, you don’t look away and that merely confirms the unspoken question of your participation.

When he realizes that you aren’t going to outright reject him, and that you’re actually on board for him, Yoongi’s face lights up as he immediately envelops you into a hug. “Thank you! Thank you—wow, that means a lot to me.”

You suck in a breath at his words, tensing slightly at his words, but you eventually learn to relax long enough to pat him slowly on the back to return his hug. “Don’t thank me yet,” You grumble into his shoulder. “We haven’t even had a meeting. I may not be able to negotiate as well as you think I can.”

Yoongi shakes his head at that, tightening his hold on you. From his close proximity to you, he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to shake and your heart seems to quicken. “It doesn’t matter,” He reassures, finally backing off. “I don’t care if you don’t know how to do all those fancy manager things. Like I said, you’re the only one I could trust to do this.”

You stare at Yoongi for a few more seconds before you sigh in defeat, knowing that you’ve just put all your thoughts and feelings on the table for him to react to. “Alright then,” You say, placing one of your hands across your chest and onto your shoulder—atop his hand still lingering. “I’ll make the call tomorrow then.”

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.”

There’s a brief silence that covers the pair of you, before a voice rings from the living room. “Do you mind bringing the mac and cheese over here?”

CHAPTER 2: THE REQUEST

One year later, and you learn that the crowds from Yoongi’s street performances are nothing in comparison to this. This—overwhelming and unmatched in all degrees, the screams and the cries and the shoves, all of it echoes around you just as it has for the past few months. Surprisingly, you’ve always been okay with being a little more firm if the situation called for such and today is absolutely no exception.

“Off,” You say gently, tapping an outstretched hand trying to get past you and grab at the person behind you.

The girl you’ve intercepted jerks her hand back as if you’ve burned her, her eyes wide and vaguely hurt as if you’ve singled her out specifically from this crowd. Rather, it’s more along the lines of keeping your client safe and trying to avoid the incident from last week. You block the memory out for the time being.

You feel a hot breath at your ear. “If you make my fans cry, I swear—!”

“Try to be less desirable then,” You bite back over your shoulder, holding up your hand when another fan tries to shove a sharpie past you. “Sorry, but we’re in a bit of a rush,” You say to the boy. “Come to the next concert—we’ll have a meet and greet then too.”

The boy deflates, but that expression only lasts for a second before he seems to brighten slightly at whatever has just occurred behind you. Stealing a glance, you realize it’s because Min Yoongi has just thrown him an apologetic wink.

The car appears in view a lot quicker than you had been anticipating, which is good as you muster all your energy to pull the handle that opens the car door. You step off to the side, further cutting off the fans who are trying to keep Yoongi from entering the vehicle. Soon enough, a taller and more dominating figure appears next to you as Yoongi manages to slide his way into the back seat. You and Jungkook exchange a nod—you had been in the front of Yoongi’s protection squad and he had been in the back, and the arrangement continues to work wonders. As long as Yoongi doesn’t lose a whole sleeve (like last time) then you would consider this departure a success.

Jungkook tilts his head towards the still opened car door, allowing you to enter the car yourself. As soon as you’re settled, Jungkook leans forward to join you. He slides his way into the seat all the way in the back of the car. Closing the door behind him, you signal Taehyung to take off with a nod into the rearview mirror.

The screams and calls of Yoongi’s name are loud, and pass through the metal structure of the car as if it is nothing. But you know that the boy doesn’t mind, and that he lives and breathes moments like these as he has for the past few months.

It’s crazy to think how much a year could change, after you and Yoongi decided to meet up with Seokjin to discuss how Yoongi was going to be signed under KSJ records. Seokjin had talked about the big plans he had in pushing Yoongi towards the spotlight—and goals like an album, a concert, and meet-and-greets around the country had been promised for Yoongi’s first year.

And of course, Yoongi was completely enchanted by the promises. Just one final ‘of course’ confirmation to have you as his manager, and Yoongi was signing on the dotted line. Truth be told, you didn’t know what KSJ records would have in store for Yoongi—how long that glimmer of passion would remain in the boy’s eyes.

A year later, and you acknowledge that you might have underestimated Kim Seokjin. As a former performer, he knew all the ins and outs of the music industry and his well established connections as well as his good ear for good music meant that Yoongi was allowing his music to get the treatment it deserved. Pair that with Yoongi’s growing popularity on Youtube, and it all equates to an EP that debuts with tens of thousands of copies sold within the first week. The EP itself hadn’t been much—just six songs that contained a mix of old songs and new songs, but all written by Yoongi. His previous (although small) experience with producing and arrangement allowed him constant access into the various studios at KSJ records, where he learned from all the other producers on how to make good music.

The hands-on, personal touch Seokjin allowed Yoongi to deliver in his music had been a good call and a large contributor to the success of the EP. You recall fans praising the album and talking about how it matched Yoongi’s youtube aesthetic perfectly, but just with the higher quality element that top notch equipment could bring to music.

In a way, the current atmosphere of concerts and meet-and-greets is just a way to celebrate the success of Yoongi’s music career launching off into the stratosphere.

“Hey.” There’s a gentle tap against your head, and you jump before turning to face Yoongi in the seat next to you. “You good?”

You blink, bringing your finger up to brush the hair out of your face. “Yeah, just spaced out.”

“Cool. I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

“If anyone should have fallen asleep by now, it’s you,” You point out. “I think that today’s meet-and-greet was the largest one you’ve had so far.”

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi says. “I have every intention of following asleep as soon as I fall into bed. Plus, don’t let me hold a pen for the next week—I think my wrist almost fell off.”

You laugh, angling yourself so you can face him. “But you love it, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s gaze softens as he lets your question sink in. “Course I do. I never realized how cool it would be to have an audience sing my lyrics back to you. More than that, it was all lyrics I used to write in the apartment, or in between lectures back at college, or late into the night on my phone… back when the idea of all this was just a dream.” He pivots his body towards you, eyes bright as the passion for his current place in life seems to have gotten him hyped up again. “You know, during the meet and greet, this girl came up to me all confidently and told me that my album got her through a tough time. I think that’s when it really hit me that this was all happening.”

The corner of your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh yeah, I actually do remember you writing those songs and you showing me the lyrics. You speak from the heart, and your fans understand that. Helps that you’re pretty cute too. Anyone with eyes could see that.” As soon as those words escape your lips, you almost want to chide yourself and immediately throw yourself out of the car. Why would you say something like that—why would you openly admit to Yoongi’s cuteness? Your face grows warm at the realization, leaving you to hope that Yoongi won’t notice your flustered state.

Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s too busy gawking at your observation, too busy tearing his gaze away from you to stare firmly out of the car window.

Jungkook simply shifts his gaze between the two of you.

In the midst of the silence, you fish out your phone and start scrolling through your social media pages. Due to the third party cookie ads that follow you around, you immediately notice news of Yoongi’s concert of the day has started hitting various news sites—most articles praising Yoongi on his song selections and live adaptations of his music to suit the concert style more. Reading these articles leave you unable to stop the grin, because Yoongi deserves this so fucking much that you could have sworn your heart sings a little as you continue reading.

It’s a moment that lasts for only a couple of seconds, as recommended articles start coming up that do well in setting up the gray cloud. With the increased amount of attention that comes from being a newly top rated best selling album artist, so does the intrusion into personal life that follows—the dark side of the media, the side that just loves to stick its nose in places it does not belong. It’s something that you had been seeing since Yoongi’s youtube account hit five hundred thousand, but at the time these kinds of questions were more dark shadows or curious inquiries taken in the form of casual comments.

Now, those questions have become much more normalized, as a common curiosity seems to have taken form from all these drama articles: was Min Yoongi dating anyone? And even better: who is Min Yoongi writing all his love songs for?

As if love was limited to romantic relationships, and wasn’t a feeling one could recreate from other love songs or romantic comedies. Or just the feelings of growing up.

“We’re here!” Taehyung calls from the front seat, as you jump up from your train of thought. Refocusing on your surroundings, you realize that you’ve made it into the parking lot of the hotel.

You sigh, regathering your belongings that have moved around during the drive. “Thanks, Taehyung.”

“Hey.” Taehyung utters for you to come closer to him as soon as the pair of you step out of the car. He jerks toward Yoongi, who is exiting from his side of the car before quickly side-stepping to let Jungkook come out as well. “Was that flirting back there?”

You protest hotly at once, your hand raising up and wave side-to-side frantically in complete denial. “N-No, it wasn’t—!”

“Okay, good,” Taehyung interrupts, leaning back to stuff his hands into his pants pockets. “Because if that was the case I think we would have had to re-evaluate your definition of flirting—!”

“Will you stop?” You squeak.

“Is everything okay?” Yoongi asks, having rounded around the car to stare over at you and Taehyung.

You whirl around quickly, tightening up your expression once more to make sure that any remnants of your conversation with Taehyung would be undetected. “Yep!” You say immediately. “Everything is fine. Let’s get going, yeah?” You allow Jungkook to lead the four of you out of the parking lot and into the elevator that’ll take you to the main floor of the hotel room. Yoongi has to slip on a pair of glasses and a baseball cap, just on the off chance that a fan might be staying in the same room—it happened a few stops ago—before the four of you are making your way through the lobby. The four of you have reserved four separate rooms for your overnight stay in the city, rooms that you have already checked into earlier that day, so it feels nice to just make your way to the elevator and select the correct floor.

Taehyung decides to check in first for the night, waving you all off and congratulating Yoongi on another well done performance. Jungkook lingers around as you make your way to Yoongi’s room next.

“Thanks for walking me,” Yoongi says, sliding the key card into the slot and pulling out when he hears the beep of confirmation on his door.

Jungkook flashes him a thumbs up. “Good show today. Now get some rest.”

Yoongi nods, just about to close the door when you make a sudden noise from the back of your throat. “OH!” You call out suddenly, startling both boys as you reach your arm out suddenly to prevent Yoongi from closing the door. He had been so close too. “Sorry, I just realized. Seokjin sent me an email of some deadlines he wanted me to go over with you. Your sleep is gonna have to be put on hold.”

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath.

You turn to look at Jungkook. “We’ll be fine, Jungkook, go rest up—you deserve it.”

Jungkook nods, grinning at Yoongi. “See you guys around.”

“No fair…” Yoongi pouts as he watches Jungkook stroll down the hall to reach his hotel room. “Why do they get to rest and I don’t? I’m so tired…”

“Well, this is the price of fame,” You retort with the shrug of your shoulders. “You have your face the paparazzi want to see, and the name that sells the albums. Naturally, it means you just have to put in more work than everyone else.”

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, still pouting but less so as he opens the door once more for the both of you to enter. “When you put it that way…”

You giggle behind him. “For the fans, Min Yoongi.”

You immediately task yourself with throwing yourself atop his bed, surprisingly put together despite the fact that you had checked everyone in earlier that day. You would have assumed he would have taken a nap. But the bed doesn’t look slept in at all.

Yoongi notices your observation immediately. “I was too nervous to fall asleep earlier today,” He provides, taking a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. “So what was it that Seokjin needed you to go over with me?”

“It’s short, I promise,” You reassure, pulling out the iPhone from your pocket. As soon as you unlock the device, you’re faced with the articles you had previously been looking up—the ones about Yoongi’s dating life. Without meaning to, you sigh heavily at the sight.

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

You jerk up. “Oh, no, nothing sorry. I just…” You hold the phone up for Yoongi to see. “These articles about you and your dating life—it’s getting worse.”

“Oh.” Yoongi’s fingers fiddle with each other. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of those floating around too. Honestly, for someone who writes a lot of songs about love, these curiosities don’t really surprise me. I wish that they wouldn’t be so intrusive.”

“Unfortunately, people always think it’s their right to know who these love songs are for.” You spare him a quick glance, only to realize that he’s already staring at you. Hastily, you look back down. “If the songs are even for anyone, that is.”

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “Right.”

“Anyways…” You exit your internet app, tapping through until Seokjin’s email comes up. “Seokjin just wants to know your progress on the new songs. He’s trying to gauge your progress so he can see whether or not to arrange studio time for you to start recording.”

The new songs—it’s a reference to Seokjin’s next plan for Yoongi’s career. With the launch of the EP and the current success that it has been harboring, it makes sense that the next step would be to launch a full-length album. Technically it could be called a repackage, since the album would most likely feature a few songs from the EP and cover the rest of the spots with new music.

But aforementioned new music takes time to write, not that Yoongi ever had a problem with writing music. That has always been second nature for him—and was something he could do anywhere so long as he had a functioning, conscious mind. It was all just a matter of whether or not he could create the required number of actual songs within the scheduled deadline. With those higher expectations, time definitely plays the biggest issue and it makes sense if Yoongi couldn’t write proper songs given the current circumstances.

Nonetheless, Yoongi nods at the question. “I actually have rough drafts of most of the songs, if that was okay with Seokjin. We could probably schedule some meetings to polish up the writing, since a lot of them are still in the beginning stage.”

You blink at his answer, surprised by his response. You had been expecting one, or maybe two songs to be written out but to have all eight songs written out? “W-Wow…” You utter. “You wrote so many songs so quickly.”

Yoongi shrugs, but he does look a little prideful at your words. You don’t notice his lingering gaze. “I have a lot to reflect on, what can I say.”

“I-I mean,” You stammer, not really hearing his response. “I could schedule the meeting with Seokjin, but if he knows that you have everything basically done, he’ll probably be okay with giving you a little more time to polish up your work yourself.”

Yoongi ponders this, but he shakes his head. “No, go ahead and schedule the meeting. It’s actually nice having extra hands in the music.”

You nod. “Alright then, I’ll go and do that. I think I should also just go over tomorrow’s schedule with you.” Quickly, you relay the time details of what tomorrow’s day will look like since you’re flying out for another show the next morning. You give him some details about the stage, how many people are going, and how many people he will be meeting afterwards. It’s a standard review conversation, one of the many that you’ve had with Yoongi over the year. “And… that should be it,” You wrap up as soon as you’ve reviewed the day. Looking over the schedule once more, you cannot help but sigh once more.

“What is it this time?” Yoongi asks from the side.

“Oh, no nothing!” You reassure with a promising smile. “Just another busy day.”

Yoongi gives you a grin, but you can see the exhaustion clinging to the corner of his eyes. “There’s only a few more stops left of the concert—what happened to you being positive rock?”

At that, you laugh nervously. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” You clench a fist in front of him and pump it up to showcase a display of energy. “Another day of excitement and one more day towards fulfilling your dreams!” You lower your fist and give him a slightly dryer look. “How was that?”

“I could have done without the look at the end, but it’ll do, I guess.” Yoongi stands up from his place on the couch and throws himself atop his bed. His head ends up near you, his back on the mattress, and his feet dangling off the side. “There’s only a few stops left of the tour, and for some people this is their first time seeing me live. And for other people, maybe they saw me back when I would perform on the streets, so in that case it’s their first time seeing me perform on a stage and everything!” He lifts one of his hands up into his field of view. “Either way, I just want to do the best I can for the people that take time out to come see me and support me. Because I owe them everything—I owe them more than what I can give them.”

You don’t say anything to that. What could you say, anyways? Instead, you reach over and run your fingers through his hair. After a second, you retract your hand. You shouldn’t let yourself linger for too long anyways. “It’s late,” You say, a tone of finality in your voice. “I should head to my room. I’ll make sure to let Seokjin know your update.” You slide off the bed into a standing position. “You should get some rest.” You turn to him. “You may not think you can pay back your fans, but you probably help them out every single day. The same way they help you out too.”

Yoongi tilts his head back to see you. Upside down, but still look at you nonetheless. He grins. “There’s that positive energy I was looking for. Thanks.”

You laugh, already making your way towards his hotel room door. “Thank me by giving me another kickass performance tomorrow. Makes my job a whole lot easier.”

The following weeks of concert tours pass by without a hitch. To Yoongi, any event now that doesn’t end up with a torn sleeve and nail scratches up and down his arm is a success. And you haven’t freaked out for the remaining dates as you had when security had been at its worst—so he’d consider that the icing on top of the cake. Although he’s glad to finally be be home and be anchored to his own bed and be in his own space for the first time in months, he knows that his first concert experience to celebrate his first EP had truly been a memorable undertaking.

And it had been more successful than anyone at KSJ records could have predicted. At least, that’s what Seokjin tells him when Yoongi arrives at the studio the following day to start going through the process of polishing up his song lyrics.

“It seems that you really enjoyed yourself throughout the tour,” Seokjin remarks as Yoongi steps into the former’s office. Seokjin is scrolling through some articles on his laptop. He closes it as Yoongi takes a seat and regards the younger boy with a look of curiosity and wonder. “How was it?”

Yoongi brightens. “So much fun. I didn’t realize how cool it would feel to have audience members sing song lyrics right back at me, but that was probably my favorite moment.”

“Ah, of course, first time for everything as they always say.” Seokjin folds his fingers atop one another. “And how was your team?” He says your name, given that you are Yoongi’s manager. “Along with Jungkook and Taehyung? I wish I could have given you more people, but we didn’t know how crazy moving you around was going to be.”

Yoongi nods. “I mean… it was fine. Jungkook was really good.” He can’t help but think that Jungkook should have been good—after all, Yoongi is the reason why Jungkook has been getting safe with job security recently. “And Taehyung too. I think having the small team was good because we ended up all getting really connected and had this whole system in place after a few stops.”

“I heard a fan tore your sleeve,” Seokjin points out, looking mildly concerned. “How did that go?”

“Oh, it was just a one time thing,” Yoongi tries to brush off with the wave of his hand. He thinks of you, because of course he does. He mentions you. “She would tap the fans who were getting too close. It was reassuring, honestly.”

“That’s good to hear,” Seokjin says. “And I’ve heard that you’ve been making a lot of headway with the upcoming album. So we’re definitely gonna set some time for us to go through the lyrics and structure what you’ve come up with already. But I did want to go over something with you first—the main reason I called you in, actually.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “Okay, what’s up?”

Seokjin re-opens his laptop, and clicks through a few links before he’s pivoting the laptop in a 180 degree motion so Yoongi can see the screen. At once, he’s faced with several articles, all centering around the topic that has been haunting him since the beginning of his concert journey. He gets a flashback to one of the nights you came into his hotel room to discuss scheduling, and how you had mentioned this particular topic showing up more and more.

Yoongi had known it was becoming a problem. He just didn’t think it was something that required urgent discussion.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, your growing popularity means that people are developing a growing interest in your relationship. Since you are labeled specifically as a song-writer who writes songs about growing up, struggles, and love, this only heightens people’s curiosity.”

Yoongi allows Seokjin to continue talking, as he moves forward in his chair to actually scroll through one of the articles Seokjin has pulled up. It’s entitled: UP AND COMING SINGER SONGWRITER MIN YOONGI IS DEFINITELY IN A RELATIONSHIP, BUT WITH WHO? As he scrolls down, there’s several people that are listed as potential girlfriends to Yoongi’s partnership—some people he does not know at all, some people he has only seen once.

You’re on the list too, and Yoongi’s eyes widen when he identifies your picture amongst the lot. He zeroes in on the description underneath the simple title: Yoongi’s manager? Although most manager and artist relationships are platonic, we can’t leave this one out! Fans have tracked down Min Yoongi’s current manager as an old assistant from Min Yoongi’s youtube days, so there’s definitely some history between them!

“This article has been blowing up. You may or may not know, but people making assumptions about your relationship status could be dangerous. Since you write songs about relationships, it leaves a lot of room for error and scandals, especially if news sites decide to publish something or someone else with bad intentions try to claim you wrote a song about them. Or something else of the sort.”

Yoongi nods slowly at that, not entirely understanding what direction Seokjin is going with his build up. It makes sense though. Leaving Yoongi out in the open like this could be dangerous for his career. “S-So, what ideas do you have to combat that?”

“I’ve been thinking about this in the recent weeks you’ve been on tour,” Seokjin says quietly, pressing his hands together. “I think that we should push your relationship status into the public—get you a girlfriend to maintain your ‘pure romantic heart’ reputation so it looks like you’re writing love songs solely for your girlfriend.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in. “Aaaaah,” Yoongi finally says, but his voice sounds far away all of a sudden, the further time seems to creep on. Sure, he’s seen this concept of surface relationships between in film and television—and the idea of it makes some sense. For someone whose best songs were related to moments of being in love, surely most people would suspect that the inspiration for those songs had to come from somewhere. If Yoongi came out to admit his lack of relationship experience, would people approve of that? Or would they think he was lying?

In that regard then, it makes sense that Seokjin would come up with the idea. But faking a relationship for the sake of faking a relationship has never been something Yoongi thought he would ever have to go through.

Mainly because first of all—who would play Yoongi’s girlfriend?

Now, Yoongi isn’t the worst actor in the world. But he can be stiff at times, and if Seokjin wants to push a relationship status into the public eye then Yoongi imagines that this girlfriend would be someone Yoongi felt the most natural around. Someone he wouldn’t mind pretending to be in a relationship with.

Would Yoongi even get a say in the matter? Or would Yoongi’s approval be the only requirement before Seokjin went off to find a girlfriend for Yoongi himself?

“D-Did you have someone in mind?” Yoongi finds himself asking instead.

Seokjin hums, tapping his chin with his finger. “Not at the moment. I just wanted to bring it up with you in case you had an idea for someone.” Mindlessly, he reaches to take back the laptop and flip it back towards him. This exposes him to the article Yoongi had been previously scrolling through—one where pictures of you are plastered over the current screen.

At the sight, Seokjin wavers slightly, staring down your pictures and furrowing his eyebrows. Yoongi looks over, noticing immediately that the laptop (and the pictures of you from that article) is no longer right in front of him but rather in front of Seokjin instead. When he glances over at Seokjin, he finds the older man lost in thought, running the side of his finger across his lip. Back and forth, clearly pondering something.

“Yes…” Seokjin says after a moment. “That could work, actually.” He looks across the desk at Yoongi. “Good idea, Yoongi. I think originally, I would have said no, but these pictures and this description actually makes a valid point.”

Yoongi blinks, not really connecting the dots right away. “Uh, sorry, Seokjin, but I’m not really following…”

Seokjin makes a noise, gesturing to his laptop screen that he has just gotten back from Yoongi. “You were suggesting Y/N as your fake girlfriend, weren’t you? I’m assuming that’s why you stopped on these pictures. My initial thought was that it probably wouldn’t work, but actually considering your history with each other it seems like this could be the most likely case scenario.”

It takes another second for the information to fully process. You. His fake girlfriend. Seokjin misunderstanding that unintentionally stopping on your pictures meant that Yoongi was trying to convey some sort of message.

You—playing the role of his fake girlfriend, the ‘supposed’ inspiration for all his music. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ironic.

It would be funny if you didn’t inspire all of his music—but you do. And Yoongi isn’t laughing.

He should say something. He knows that it would make sense, as Seokjin is claiming, but it would also potentially inch him towards a can of worms he has been so sure would never see the sunlight. More than that, having you as his fake girlfriend would bring him the closest he has ever been to feeling hopeful.

He really should say something.

But for some reason, the words don’t come out. He just lets Seokjin believe his ingenious plan. “Yes, yes!” Seokjin continues after the many moments of silence that lapse between the two of you. “This could work actually. You guys have known each other for years, and older fans of yours from the youtube days would definitely recognize Y/N. That way, the announcement of your relationship wouldn’t seem entirely out of line, especially if we say that you guys have been dating for years. It also makes sense that we could say you becoming Yoongi’s ‘manager’ was always part of a cover up—after all, that’s what they did in that movie That Thing You Do…”

The more Seokjin drones on and on about his plan, and how exactly he intends to work up to it, the more nervous Yoongi gets. Was Seokjin actually planning on doing this—enlist you as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend and drag you along to participate in this facade? Yoongi is mildly shocked. He should have known Seokjin would follow through on the question, but he had just assumed that today was just the idea phase and that plans to arrange this fake relationship would take weeks.

But if there’s anything Yoongi knows about Seokjin, it’s that the man knows how to get something done. Quickly, too. In Seokjin’s word, it’s a natural occurrence for a simple idea phase to morph into actual concrete plans within the time span of a day. Yoongi should have planned this out better—but then again, he didn’t think that him accidentally stopping on a picture of you from a fucking drama article would serve as the catalyst for Seokjin’s ideas.

Yoongi straightens up onto his feet. “Why don’t I talk to Y/N first about this?” He asks. “The idea may seem good on paper, but if she’s uncomfortable then it’s a no go.”

Seokjin studies Yoongi carefully, before the former relents. “Okay, fair enough. Let me know what happens.”

As soon as the pair of them exchange the last nods, Yoongi is dashing out of Seokjin’s office with one clear objective in mind: to talk to you.

Luckily, you aren’t too far away. You’re in your office, typing up something on your laptop and your eyes scanning through what he can only assume are emails. It’s eyes that widen when Yoongi practically storms into your space, shutting the door behind him.

You straighten up. “Yoongi, you alright? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize that his chest is heaving until you point that out. He coughs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t run a marathon though.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but the corner of your lips turn up in mild curiosity. “Okay. What’s up?”

Yoongi presses his lips together. Even with the many feet of space between the two of you—he can make out the glimmer in your eyes from the sunlight pouring through the window, he can see the shadow of your eyelashes and the line where your collarbone dips below your blouse. Fuck, he’s in deep. There’s no way he could ask you something so monumental to the downfall of his sanity. But he knows that it’s too late to just walk away. Partly because he’s already in your office and partly because the idea has already been planted into Seokjin’s head. And if Yoongi didn’t speak up, then Seokjin was going to.

So Yoongi opens his mouth. “I may or may not have gotten you into a situation,” He starts up.

You snort, of course not taking him seriously. “That might just be the summary of our relationship.”

“No, I don’t think you understand…” Yoongi pleads, stepping deeper into the office.

You frown at his behavior, closing your laptop this time to address him completely. “Okay, what’s up, really? You’re kind of scaring me…”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not… scary or anything…” He trails off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Let me be the judge of that.”

So Yoongi shoves his hands deep into his coat pocket, and slides next to your desk, leaning against the surface as he starts his story. He covers everything: from Seokjin bringing up the drama articles about his relationship status, how he had scrolled through and saw your name, how Seokjin had misinterpreted that as a sign, and worse of all, how Seokjin thought it would be a good idea for you to play as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend.

To say you’re appalled would be an understatement. You’re staring up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Are you serious?” You ask. “B-But I’m your manager!” You scoff at yourself. “No, more than that—I’m your friend, Yoongi. Seokjin must be on something. He has to be. What did you guys decide on? Please tell me that you said no.”

“W-Well, there was no agreement or disagreement,” Yoongi argues weakly. “I walked out before Seokjin could make up his mind.” He pauses for a moment, something sinking in. “Wait a minute,” He brings up, a slightly teasing smile across his face. “Do you really find the idea of dating me that gross?”

You make a noise in the back of your throat at his accusation, and you immediately begin to scramble. “I-I mean,” You start, the flush present in your throat as you start speaking very quickly at once. Both your hands go up in a defensive position. “It’s not that I don’t find you gross… because I don’t! You’re a very attractive person—it’s just that—we’re friends and—stop looking at me like that!” You stand up, slamming your palms onto the table when you realize that he’s just flashing you a shit-eating grin.

He has half the mind to be mildly disheartened that you are so against the idea of dating him. But then again, he’d probably say no to fake dating you if he was being forced into a situation like this. He’d definitely say no.

Okay, he’d probably say no.

“Well, I told Seokjin that if you were uncomfortable with the idea, then it’d be a no go and he seemed to respect the idea.”

Still standing, you sigh and press your face into the palm of your hand. Your fingers brush through your hair. “Okay, let’s step back for a moment.” You remove your hands from your face. “If I were to say yes, what exactly would that entail?”

Yoongi manages a weak one-shouldered shrug. “I’m not sure exactly. Seokjin would probably have a better idea of that. I imagine KSJ records would release a statement about our relationship, and we would be scheduled to go to variety shows or press interviews together. We’d probably have to go out to restaurants together too. Hold hands…” The thought of holding your hand dries up his throat a little, but he passes it off well by faking a cough. “That sort of stuff.”

You glare at him. “And what about your fans? You’re trying to preserve this ‘pure romantic heart’ image, but I’m sure there’s a lot of fans that like to believe the songs could be about them.”

He shrugs. “That—I’m not too sure about. I imagine Seokjin prefers the idea of my fans believing that my heart only belongs to one person rather than them believing that I’ll just write a love song for anyone.”

You nod. “That’s valid, I guess.”

Yoongi stares at you from the smaller space of distance between the two of you. “Again, you don’t have to say yes. Frankly, I think it’s a batshit crazy idea.”

“It’s not… completely out of line.” After a moment, you sigh. “I can actually understand why Seokjin would get the idea of trying to set you up like this. The news articles will probably get worse. And since your songs market themselves on being personal, people want to know who the songs are about. If Seokjin gave the public a face, then there’d be no room for assumptions and even less room for scandals to come about.” You give him a look. “Sadly, if you were to stay single, there’s only so much I could do as your manager to control that bad press.”

Yoongi raises both his eyebrows up. “Does that mean you’re saying yes—?”

“I’m not… saying anything yet.” You plop yourself back down into your seat. “I’m not saying yes. But I’m not saying no either.” You sink further into your seat. “Hopefully Seokjin will change his mind before I have to make up mine?”

That’s an unlikely case. But Yoongi doesn’t argue with you, and you don’t wait for him to. He simply nods one more time before leaving your office.

You would be lying if you said you never thought about dating Yoongi. Of course you have. You’re sure that you’ve had a crush on the boy within the first week of your introductions. This crush explains so many of your past actions—your support for his Youtube channel, your fulfillment as his manager, and now this pull towards agreeing to become his fake girlfriend. And you hate yourself for the every second you consider it a good idea.

Because it’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible idea. More than that, it’s an unfair idea. Agreeing to fake date someone you actually want to date seems like too cruel a hand to be dealt. Considering your more-often-than-not fragile state, setting yourself up with Yoongi in this way already seems doomed to fail. It would be unfair to Yoongi, because agreeing to this would deprive him of an actual relationship he could be happy in. But it would be more unfair to you, because losing control would mean losing your best friend.

So you don’t give Yoongi a positive confirmation. But you don’t give him a negative one either. See, you don’t have the heart to just outwardly reject him, because you know that he needs you to help him with this. You know that he understands the situation he’s been put in, and that getting a fake girlfriend seems to be the best case scenario. You know that it wouldn’t make sense with any other girl—it had to be you. Saying no straight to face is something that you don’t have the heart to do.

Rather than give a yes or no answer, you opt for the second best option: hold off and avoid indulging too deeply.

It’s a strategy that works for a grand total of one day.

The following day post Yoongi’s conversation, you show up to work with information that Yoongi is going to start recording songs for his new album. His first full-length album, at that—something he has been working hard for since the beginning. Every second of free time available to him during the tour, during off-days had been dedicated to writing the music necessary to fill the album. You know how hard he’s been working—you’ve watched throughout the duration of his tour, and spoke to him for many nights about the progression of this album.

You just didn’t think that the recording part would be coming around so soon.

This is a thought you reflect to Seokjin when you enter the recording studio. Yoongi is already behind the glass, and his voice is amplified in the studio, where they appear to be discussing the arrangement for how a song is going to go. This leaves you vaguely surprised—if Yoongi is in the booth already, it means that there must have been some ground covered on how the arrangement was supposed to go. Just how long has Yoongi been in the studio before you showed up?

“Ah, good morning,” Seokjin greets from the back of the studio, seated on the couch and his arms resting along the back. “Don’t get mad, but Yoongi worked through the night again.”

Your lips part into a gape as your eyes widen in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking,” You return.

Seokjin merely laughs in return. “I wish I was! When I left, he was going at it with Namjoon and when I came back this morning they were still going at it. But, you know, who am I to rain in on a breakthrough moment?”

You relent your control of the situation slightly (only slightly) at Seokjin’s rhetorical question. Namjoon is one of Seokjin’s top producers and arrangers—very gifted in songwriting and how to make a good song. From the year that you and Yoongi have been a part of KSJ records, Yoongi and Namjoon have gotten along great and their close relationship has been the reason for many late nights. The pair of them were always caught in the drift of making sleepless but record-selling hits.

Like Seokjin said, who are you to interrupt art in progress?

Although you have a sudden flurry of desires and objectives (mainly to reprimand Yoongi for being so careless with a slap or a hit where you could put him to sleep yourself), you bite it down long enough to shed your jacket and rest it on the armrest of the couch. “Fine, fine, I’ll let it go this time.”

Seokjin chuckles at that, removing his gaze from you and sliding it across the studio back into the booth where Yoongi is still in the midst of discussing something with Namjoon. Something about how the arrangement isn’t as smooth or on beat as they had originally intended. “You’re a good manager,” He says at last. “I can tell that you really do care about him and will definitely give him a peace of your mind once he’s done with today’s session. And what’s more…” He laughs. “He’ll actually let you walk all over him. You’d be surprised how often I see managers in it just for the money, where they don’t have their artist’s best interest in mind. You’re definitely not like that.”

You slide into the vacant seat next to Seokjin. “If I don’t keep an eye on him, I know that no one else will. It’s nothing against other people, but no one else in his life is as involved in his career as I am. But I’m his friend first, and his manager second.”

The pair of you are quiet for a moment, as you watch Namjoon fiddle with some of the switches on the music panel. They seem to come to an agreement on the newly modified beat, because it starts playing through the speakers in the booth. Yoongi presses his hands against the headphones he’s wearing, and starts to relay the lyrics into the microphone. It starts off slow—Yoongi has his phone in his hands to read the lyrics, to double check the flow and the tempo. After a few lines, he stops. “Ah—let’s reword this line. I do like the change we made to the music, so let’s change the lyrics to match.” His voice is amplified through the studio.

Namjoon presses a button on the music panel, allowing him to communicate with Yoongi. “Sure. Want to head in and make the changes?”

Yoongi ponders this for a moment, but shakes his head. “Give me a second. Maybe if I listen to the song again, I can feel what I vibe with.”

“Sounds good.” Namjoon releases his hold on the button, and turns around in his chair to face you and Seokjin. The sight of you makes his eyes widen, as Namjoon coughs back a choke. “O-Oh, Y/N, you’re here—!”

His words make you narrow your eyes as you point a finger at him. “YAH! Which one of you was it that contributed to your all-nighter?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Namjoon protests, raising both of his hands up in defense. “We were both in the groove!”

You lower your finger with a sigh. “You’re lucky that you’re in the middle of helping Yoongi achieve his dreams. Otherwise I’d kick both of your asses.”

Namjoon seems to realize that you’re not messing around, because he emits a nervous laugh. “I promise we’ll be a little more careful next time…”

“Oh, Namjoon, I rewrote some of the lines!” Yoongi calls from inside the booth.

Namjoon whirls around in his chair again to press the button. “Sounds good, let’s do it.”

As the music starts up again, Seokjin decides to speak up once more. “Yoongi told me that he talked to you about the little fake dating plan I had.”

The mention of it, as well as your previous internal insistence of not talking or thinking about that, makes you stiffen. “He might have mentioned something like that.”

When you turn to look at Seokjin, he has an unreadable look glinting in his eyes. “Since you were talking about achieving Yoongi’s dreams and all…” He trails off. “I wanted to apologize for bringing that idea onto you so quickly. I didn’t really consider how you’d feel about the arrangement. I just wanted to try and do what I thought was best for Yoongi.”

You sigh. “I know why you thought of the idea. And I totally agree with you—I think that if he wants to carry on, this is the least costly next step that should be taken. I just… I don’t know if I’m the best fit for it.”

Seokjin nods. “I respect your decision. After all, Yoongi told me that if you were uncomfortable with it, then it’d be an immediate no go.”

The corner of your lips turns up upon hearing Yoongi’s thought process. Even though you’ve already heard the words from the man himself—it’s nice to hear that assurance from his boss. Knowing that Yoongi puts your thoughts and feelings on the forefront of his mind is a nice feeling. A misleading feeling if you let yourself think too deeply into it. But a nice feeling, nonetheless.

You decide not to comment immediately on Seokjin’s apology; rather, you tune into what exactly Yoongi is singing about in the song. It’s got a softer beat to it—an opening song to the album, perhaps? It’s much more whimsy compared to his hard-hitting personal rants that touch on the frustration of miscommunication, of not saying something when he should have said something.

Instead, this is a song about distance—about missing someone due to distance and the longing of returning home because of the normality it brought. About how even closeness sometimes isn’t enough to fill the gap of desire in his heart. It takes on a beat you’ve never heard before, and a feeling of missing something that isn’t even tangible for you as a listener. Nevertheless, his words, his raspiness, and the hard lines hidden within the otherwise soft tone of the song work hard to poke at your edges and your weak spots. The parts of you that have always been willing to cave for Yoongi, the part of you that has never hesitated to do what needed to be done if it benefited Yoongi.

You were his manager, so you always want what’s best for him. But you’re also a friend who has been in love with him for years, so you will do whatever it takes to get him there.

You hope you don’t regret this.

“Actually,” You admit quietly, but it’s loud enough to perk Seokjin’s attention. “I’ll do it.”

Seokjin blinks, clearly trying to process your words right off the bat. “You’ll…” He trails off.

You look away. You have a feeling that if Seokjin looks at you for too long, he’ll see your emotions spill out across the entire fucking studio. “Do the fake dating idea.”

Seokjin fumbles a little. “H-Hold on a second—are you sure? Seriously, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. Since you’re the one least adjusted to being in the spotlight, a lot of this pressure is going to fall onto you. I don’t want you to say yes and then regret it later on… so maybe you should think a little more about this…”

You steel yourself. It feels a little bit like holding your breath. Finally, you spare Seokjin a look. “I won’t regret it,” You say. “You and I both said that Yoongi needs me to keep going at this pace—I was going to get roped in eventually, so I think it’ll just be easier if I agree now rather than drag this thing around for a couple of months. Besides…” You try to relax a little in your seat, but it’s hard to tell if you’re being convincing or not. “It’s nothing too serious right? You just want us to go out together, hold hands occasionally, speak highly of each other… We already do half of those things but it’ll just be emphasized now. No big deal.”

Seokjin is wearing that unreadable look in his eyes again, like he knows something that you don’t even know yourself. “You’re right,” He settles with after a long pause. “It’s nothing too serious. You’ll probably have people also digging into your space though, but we’ll make all the necessary arrangements before any sort of announcement.”

“If that’s the case,” You reply. “Then I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Besides.” You try for a smile. “It’s all just fake anyways, right? As long as the ones who really matter know that, then I don’t really see the harm in it.”

Seokjin only continues to stare at you, before he relents. You know just as well as he does that your decision is one of an adult, and that if you really had a problem with something you would vote your opinion without hesitation. No matter if he can somehow read the thoughts in your head.

At last, he nods. “We might need you to sign another NDA but…” He extends an arm out towards you. “Welcome abroad, Min Yoongi’s girlfriend.”

You laugh a little, hollow but still present, as you reach over to take his head. “We’ll start having problems if that nickname becomes a regular thing.”

Seokjin laughs a little louder, a complete opposite of his more quiet and observant side displayed just a few seconds ago. “Don’t worry—just for formalities. HEY, Namjoon, let me talk to Yoongi for a second.” He practically throws himself off of the couch and towards the music panel where Namjoon and Yoongi are still mid-discussion about another aspect of music you do not understand. Namjoon relents, pushing himself and his chair off to the side as Seokjin comes up to press the button on the panel that allows for discussion between the booth and the studio. “Hey, Min Yoongi, there’s been some discussions behind the scenes. Say hello to your new girlfriend!”

There’s a brief silence in the studio, and Yoongi’s eyes immediately bug out of his head like this is the last thing he expected to hear on this very casual Wednesday morning. Knowing the agenda for the day, it probably has been. “What?” Yoongi says after a long moment, his voice amplified by the speakers in the studio.

Seokjin turns towards you, jerking his head at the booth, and you get up with a sigh. You approach the music panel where Seokjin and Namjoon are currently situated—and aren’t sure how to feel when you see the way Yoongi’s eyes widen at the sight of you through the window.

Still, you cannot help your own weak smile as you lean in towards the microphone. “Hi honey,” You say.

Yoongi continues to stare at you, before his lips part and his face takes on a very unusual shade of red. “HUH?”

CHAPTER 3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT

KSJ records releases a statement within the next following days, and it gains momentum like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

HELLO, WE ARE KSJ RECORDS.

Recently, we acknowledge that many fans have developed a curiosity about the relationship status of our newest artist Min Yoongi. The release of his latest EP and the undertaking of his concert has left many questions regarding who he writes his songs for—and many of the different assumptions made by people around the world could leave very dangerous and lasting impressions on people that our artist sees as platonic. We want to respond properly and say the truth.

Min Yoongi has been in a relationship with his current manager, Y/N, for the past three years. When Min Yoongi was first signed to KSJ Records, they were already in a relationship and Y/N was assigned the task as Yoongi’s manager given her experience working alongside him during his Youtube career. They have good feelings about each other, and have agreed to make this information public to avoid future misunderstandings. KSJ Records and Yoongi hope that you all will support their relationship as they continue to navigate through Yoongi’s growing career together.

You cannot help but laugh a little at the statement, which is flying so close to the truth that it might as well have been your reality. And in a way, it is. You’ve already prepared, molded your online presence just barely to meet these new expectations to the new facade you have to put up.

And it’s not like the announcement actually changes anything in your daily life. In the days leading up to the post, you had decided to delete your Twitter account (you weren’t making much use of that platform anyways—what, with all the thirst accounts for Yoongi that you were stumbling upon due to internet cookies and the algorithm), and archive a fair number of your Instagram photos on an account that was already set to private. For someone who didn’t live and breathe social media, it wasn’t too hard to rid of that element in your life.

One thing you hadn’t really accounted for, however, were the news stories that wrote about you in the hours following the press release. Several of them were base-level lists about your childhood and how your relationship with Yoongi could have festered—most of which were correct given that older fans of Yoongi knew what university he attended and how you were also a student there. But that information is generally public, and it’s not like you attend the university anymore.

Other than that, there are a few comments on your looks, a few assumptions on your personality. But surprising, there’s nothing too severe. At least, from the surface-level information you can collect from just doing a basic google search. Social media would probably be a more difficult battle, one that you would need nerves of steel and a hardened heart in order to navigate, but like mentioned: professionally managing your own personal social media isn’t exactly your forte.

Over the next week, you follow Seokjin’s advice to lay low and let the news of your relationship with Yoongi continue to spread through the ranks. You spend that time in your apartment, answering a few messages from friends and family but doing what you could to keep the information as limited as possible. You assume that too many people knowing, regardless of how close or trustworthy they were, sort of went against the NDA you had to sign. And you’re not sure how your friends would react if they found out you were only dating Yoongi for a cover-up. Especially since some of them actually are fully aware of your feelings for him.

Regardless, you carry on. Yoongi sends you some screenshots he takes of supportive messages from his fans wishing the both of you the best in your relationship, and he also sends you some memes about your relationship that make you laugh. His fans have a good sense of humor, what could you say.

However, a week is the most you allow yourself to hide away within the comfort (and boring nature) of your apartment before you’re already texting Seokjin with news that you were showing up to the studio.

Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t question this. He calls you. “I was just about to ask if you were going to come over anyways!” He says in a rather upbeat nature. “So it’s good to hear that we’re both on the same page.”

So you step out of your apartment, dressed up in your usual work uniform and feeling much more put-together than you had been for the week you were ordered to remain quiet and lowkey. There’s something exciting about stepping out after being unable to do so for an extended period of time—and it shows in the little bounce that occurs with every step that you take down the sidewalk. Since you usually take the subway to work, you decide to dawn a bucket hat with a face mask tucked over your nose and mouth to blend in just enough but not so much so that your strange fashion choices could draw attention.

It doesn’t, and you enjoy the rocking of the subway racing down the tracks as you peer out of the window quietly. KSJ Records is just a few stops away from your apartment, so you waste no time standing out and stepping out as soon as the doors of the subway open at the right stop. You bound up the stairs, through the familiar pathways you’ve always taken to get to work, and after a few blocks, you arrive at the building of KSJ Records.

As you shoulder open the door, you greet the secretary behind the table, who smiles back at you. “Oh, good morning!” She greets cheerfully. “Seokjin is waiting for you in his office. I believe Yoongi is already with him.”

You nod. “Sounds good, thank you so much!” You bound deeper in, navigating through the different hallways until you arrive at Seokjin’s office. True to the word from the front desk, Yoongi is already there. He looks surprisingly meek for someone who has been trending on Twitter for a few days, but you suppose that he’s still trying to adjust to the fact that Seokjin’s plan is already in motion. After all, he didn’t even get the final say before Seokjin started taking the situation into his own hands. The last he had heard of it was your apparent agreement before Seokjin drew up a company statement for him to approve.

A part of you feels guilty—but Yoongi had been the one to ask you first! Perhaps he’s still in that normal state of uncertainty. After all, you feel like that as well.

“Good morning guys,” You greet as soon as you register who exactly is in Seokjin’s office. You close the door behind you as both boys turn to acknowledge you.

Seokjin grins. “Hi, thanks for coming in.”

You wave him off. “You gave me the week off. I was starting to get a little restless.” You take a seat in the other vacant chair, in front of Seokjin and besides Yoongi. “What’s up, Yoongi?”

Yoongi is already looking at you when you turn to greet him, but as soon as you ask your question, the corner of his lips quirk up into a vaguely uneasy and nervous smile. “H-Hi honey.”

You freeze at that, immediately furrowing your eyebrows as you produce your own nervous smile. “Hi?” You return. “What the fuck are you on?”

Seokjin interrupts before Yoongi can get an answer in. “Stop, stop, you’re way too stiff, Yoongi!”

“Well, I’m trying!” Yoongi spits, before looking back at you with an utterance of your name. “Sorry, Seokjin wanted me to try treating you the same way I would treat a girlfriend. Apparently I didn’t do too hot.”

“Not apparently, you just didn’t do hot at all,” Seokjin retorts back, flashing you an apologetic smile. “We were trying out a few moves easier to see how well you guys can adjust from having your normal manager slash artist relationship to displaying a long term, healthy and happy romantic relationship. It’s one thing to say that you guys are dating, but you guys do need to have something of an act ready.”

You fold your fingers over each other, your mind on a dissociation for the briefest of seconds as the realization sinks its teeth just a little deeper. Holding hands and saying cute shit to each other had been easy to talk about in passing dialogue to Seokjin—but actually having to do it is a hurdle you hadn’t considered to the fullest.

“I mean…” You speak up after a moment. “What if we’re just one of those couples that aren’t handsey with each other? Or don’t need that lovey dovey look in each other’s eyes to prove that we’re in a relationship?”

Seokjin ponders this for a second. “True. But if we’re starting this, there needs to be a full level commitment on the act. If people start questioning the legitimacy of your relationship, that would be an even worse scandal than just letting people make assumptions about Yoongi’s relationship status in general! We definitely, at least, need to develop a basic level of your relationship, and then you guys can work around your own varying levels of comfort. This is something that we need to get rolling as soon as possible, because you.” He points at Yoongi. “Are booked in the next few days to do some radio interviews. And you.” He points at you. “Are going to go with him, as his girlfriend.”

Even though you had known the label was coming, you can’t stop from feeling hot all over at how you were now technically Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“So,” Seokjin continues. “How about I give you a base level of what I’m looking for. And we can do a few practice runs to make sure you guys are comfortable enough with these expectations?”

Yoongi nods, leaving you little option but to do the same. But the thought from the recording booth bubbles up again: you hope you won’t regret this.

A few days later and you don’t think you’ll regret the outcome of this situation. But you’ll definitely get a little sick on the way.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” You say in the car. You’re sitting in the back, next to Yoongi, staring straight ahead at the passenger seat before you. “And stay all in one piece,” You add as an afterthought.

Yoongi glances over at you, looking nervous enough to admit a pout. “At least you don’t have to say anything—I’m the one doing all the talking…”

You huff out a breath. This is true. You’re just here to play the supportive girlfriend, the agreeable partner who’ll publicly accompany Yoongi to a public event since a public announcement. Seokjin says that doing this with the lense of a romantic relationship makes you seem friendly, open, and supportive of the relationship. You’re not too sure how public perception is shaped, but you understand where Seokjin is coming from. Tagging along to an event as a girlfriend instead of a manager makes you and Yoongi seem free. Like you have nothing to hide.

Only in reality, it’s the complete opposite. With everything coming out to the surface, you have everything to hide.

It only takes a few more minutes of driving before you arrive at the radio station. The instructions for today’s assignment have been easy: get out of the car, and walk the many steps needed to reach the entrance of the station. The empty step ahead is surrounded by paparazzi and fans, all screaming and shouting—trying to get their fill of Yoongi.

You sigh. You could do this. You and Yoongi have been practicing for the past few days. Albeit, ‘practicing’ just mainly consisted of the pair of you walking down a hallway close together. It was more lackluster than anything else, and you don’t think it was entirely productive use of time. Seokjin seemed to think that the pair of you needed to work on a closer level of proximity. But you know the truth about your feelings, and know that the complications will come from just being too close to him.

Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt and is already moving to tug at the handle that’ll open his side of the car door, immediately exposing him to the walkway along with the flashing cameras and loud screams. Before he can pull all the way, however, he stops short. You’re about to ask what the problem is, before he angles towards you and flashes you that grin he has when he’s thinking of ideas you wouldn’t approve of. “I have an idea,” He breathes out, quickly reaching over to grab your hand.

You stiffen at the contact, trying to ignore the flash of your heart speeding up in your chest. You and Yoongi hadn’t agreed on this—if you had, maybe you would have been a little more prepared for the situation! Oh god.

On instinct, you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “What are you doing?” You hiss.

Yoongi gives you a dry look, reaching over to grab your hand again. “Calm down,” He argues back, lacing your fingers together for extra measure, like that’s gonna be the thing to help you calm the fuck down. “This’ll help sell it, okay? Just trust me.”

Leaving little room for arguments, he squeezes your hand briefly before loosening it enough. He pulls the car door handle, pushing it outwards, and stepping out into the wild. People notice his appearance immediately, because the screams grow louder as Yoongi uses his unoccupied hand to wave and bow towards those who have come out to see him.

You trail behind rather helplessly; the hand connected to Yoongi pulling you out of the car. Yoongi stays near the door, staring down at you with a rather watchful gaze that only leaves you feeling hotter than before. Still, you don’t speak of it as Yoongi steps back just enough for you to step out of the car. “You okay?” He asks.

You nod, readjusting yourself with one hand before Yoongi starts to pull you alongside him to walk the distance towards the radio station entrance. Although you want to engage slightly with the crowd, your nerves keep you mainly at bay, forcing you to angle your head downwards just enough to avoid any serious eye contact. Yoongi keeps his gaze ahead, walking a rather brisk pace towards the radio studio—where security leads the way in opening the door for the pair of you. Whether he’s walking fast because he doesn’t want to keep up the charade of holding your hand for so long… or because he can feel how sweaty your palm is getting. You don’t know.

It’s only a few more steps before you and Yoongi are entering the building for the radio show, where Jungkook is lingering near the entrance. He’s on his phone, probably having just made a call with Seokjin about your arrival, before he spots the two of you entering. “Hey guys, how was it?”

Yoongi nods. “A little loud, but I think it went alright.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to your intertwined hands. “Wow, you guys are committed,” He comments.

You seem to remember that your soul has returned to the body that is still currently holding hands with Min Yoongi. Alarmingly, you take your hand back. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi thought it would be a good show for the people outside! No biggie—just a simple hand holding technique, people do that all the time!” You realize that you’re rambling.

Yoongi, oblivious as always, raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” You manage. “Why do you ask?”

Yoongi is about to answer, before an intern shyly approaches the three of you with an iPad in hand.

“Are you all under Mr. Min’s team?” She asks, fishing out some badges when you nod in confirmation. “Okay, so make sure to take these so everyone knows who you are. Mr. Min? I can lead you to the studio you’ll be interviewing in, if you’ll follow me—did you need me to grab a soda for you?” She begins listing a series of questions about his well-being, leaving you and Jungkook behind in the hallway with your newly acquired badges in hand.

Jungkook, observant as always, gives you a look. “What was that all about?”

“Huh? I-It was nothing…” You trail off looping the badge around your neck, meeting Jungkook’s eyes and realizing that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. The same kind of grin that Taehyung gives you when you’re standing too close to Yoongi. Your eyes flare. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW?”

Jungkook laughs. “Calm down, calm down, Taehyung and I gossip a lot on the side—hey, what the fuck, don’t hit me—we’re in a public place!”

You relent your aggression, but only slightly. You lower your arms as well. “Just—don’t tell Yoongi.”

Jungkook levels with you a dry look. “Do you think I have a death wish? C’mon, let’s head over.”

With a hesitant sigh, you relent and let Jungkook lead you down the halls of this studio, until the pair of you find a door with Yoongi’s name written on the white board. There’s a darkened LIVE light panel above the frame, indicating that Yoongi’s radio interview hasn’t started yet. There’s some people lingering about, who nod and open the door for you when you present your TALENT badge at them. The inside of a radio booth is similar to the recording booths Yoongi has found a home in as of late. There’s people in this current room, headphones on and monitoring what’s happening before them while being surrounded with sound panels and laptop screens. On the other side of the glass is Yoongi, and the main hosts of the radio station, Jung Hoseok and Im Nayeon.

From your side, you can hear their conversation amplified through speakers in the studio. They’re all currently joking around about external matters—it makes sense too. Yoongi has been on this particular radio show a handful of times.

“Okay, okay, you guys,” Hoseok speaks after a few more minutes of playful banter. “Today, we have a very special guest with us today. He’s fresh off the tour of his first and most recent EP, we have Min Yoongi in the studio! Yay!” He claps. Nayeon follows suit.

Yoongi stops his clapping sooner to speak into the microphone in front of him. “Thanks for having me back.”

“Thank you for deciding to hang out with us for the afternoon,” Nayeon says. “Especially since you’re a big hot shot now.”

Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t say that… I just finished my first tour, Nayeon, no big deal.”

“‘No big deal’,” Nayeon quotes him. “As if your EP didn’t chart into a top 50 list or anything like that.”

The conversation trails like this for a little bit. Yoongi is scheduled to spend thirty minutes doing a segment, which is meant to be uploaded onto Youtube later, so it gives the three of them a lot of legroom to play around and play off of each other. The purpose of the interview is to discuss the tour, the progress of the album, and (if anyone dared venture there) the status of his relationship—!

“Well, moving on from the album—which I’m sure is going to be a huge success, by the way,” Nayeon continues on, bringing you back from the daydream that you’ve slipped into. “Seriously, it’s a very highly anticipated release.”

Yoongi manages a nervous smile. “I’ll make sure not to let anyone down.”

Nayeon nods. “I think it’s a good time to ask about a recent development that has occurred with you as of late.”

“And, that is the announcement of your relationship,” Nayeon carries on. She glances at Yoongi from across the table. “We’re allowed to ask you questions about it, right?”

Yoongi nods, choosing his words very carefully. “I’m all ears for your questions, Nayeon.”

Nayeon brightens at that. “I just think that a lot of people want to know: how are you guys doing since the announcement?”

He takes in a breath. To the general public, it’ll probably look as if he’s steeling himself to finally come clean about a relationship he’s been hiding for three years. But to you, you know it’s because he’s just trying to figure out what exactly to say.

“We’ve been doing well,” He says with a nod of assurance. “It was a little stressful at first, and it still is because of how recent the news is, but I am glad we decided to make this call. Y/N has been with me since the beginning and has supported me and has been the inspiration for a lot of my music—and I’m at a point in my life where I want my fans to know that rather than drag them along and just make them assume these parts of my life.”

“That’s so sweet,” Nayeon gushes. “So Y/N wasn’t always just your manager, even back in your Youtube days?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Actually, she was my girlfriend before I decided to upload song covers.”

Nayeon swoons a little. “Can you tell us the story of how we met? You can be brief, of course.”

Yoongi laughs. “We shared a class together in college, and she was probably the funniest person I had ever met—of course, we were friends for about a year before we started dating. But Y/N was always very supportive about me pursuing music, even when it was just a hobby. When I did start my Youtube channel, she stayed up to help with editing and just letting me know how some lyrics I had written would sound. She was a business major in college, so it felt right to let her have the reins on scheduling my appearances—and now she’s my manager. Besides just being my girlfriend, we work together really well.”

You huff out a breath, something you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. You didn’t think Yoongi lying straight through his teeth could cause you so much anxiety. As if there are people around this radio station to fact check everything leaving Yoongi’s mouth.

Nayeon hesitates for a moment. “Alright, I want to ask one more question.”

Yoongi gestures for her to continue.

“You write a lot about being in love and all these little moments of stability and that feeling of contentment—but what is your experience with love? How did you know that you were in love?”

Your lips part in shock at the question, having not expected it. After all, Seokjin didn’t quiz Yoongi on this answer. And to talk about love in such a personal manner—would Yoongi even have an answer for everyone?

Your gaze is trained on Yoongi, watching them through the glass separating you from him. It seems as if the entire room is silenced in anticipation. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze hot on your back, clearly trying to gauge your response—but you try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“It’s actually funny,” Yoongi speaks up after a moment. Your heart lurches, thinking that he’s going to divert from the question. But you should know him better. “I always thought love, when it came to romance, was supposed to be this big explosion of fireworks and what not—like in the movies. You see someone and there’s this feeling in your gut right away, you know, this whole concept of love at first sight. I used to think that was how I was going to fall in love. It was going to be dramatic, but everything I wanted right away, and I was going to be whisked off and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. I thought that I’d meet someone, and they’d be everything I wanted them to be right off the bat, and that I’d know right away they’d be the one.

But the truth is, through my relationship, I realized that it’s not like that. I didn’t know Y/N would be the one right away. It took a long time—because we liked each other, but that’s not the big explosion of fireworks I was promised. We liked each other, but it was never love at first sight. And truthfully, she wasn’t even everything I wanted right off the bat. I’ve realized that love is more about these adjustments you as people have to make to fit, and it happened so subtly with me that then I didn’t realize it was happening until I just woke up one day and knew.

I knew because one morning, I woke up in a fit—I had fallen asleep at my desk again trying to get through some of the music arrangement of this one video I was working on, or something like that. I was always working on music and editing—so I actually don’t remember. Anyways, I woke up and my head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket over my shoulder, which I didn’t remember fixing up the night before. I got out of the little makeshift studio I had in my apartment, and there was breakfast food from this cafe I really like around the corner at my table. It was a little cold, but Y/N had taped a little note on the bag with heating instructions and what not, just telling me to do my best—really nice and supportive things. I had assumed that she had gone back home, because she knew I was pulling another all-nighter for work. That’s what I thought, until I look into the living room and find her sleeping on my couch. More than that, her hands were still on her laptop, where she had been in the process of still editing one of my videos. She still had her headphones on and everything. We had been dating for a little less than a year at that point, so it wasn’t like this was a rare thing. It was a pretty normal thing for her to do—wrap me up in blankets and buy me breakfast food the following morning, even falling asleep on the couch was a weekly occurrence. But I just saw her sleeping on my couch and I felt this wave of warmth and contentment. Like I always knew that she’d be on my team. I think that was the moment I really knew what love was.”

It’s a long story, one that ends with a stunned silence—like no one had expected him to give out such a detailed answer and make it sound poetic at the same time. That’s the songwriter Min Yoongi for you, you supposed.

Quickly, both the studio and the booth give out a chorus of aw’s and ooh’s, gushing amongst one another over the charming nature of Yoongi’s story. But you are still trapped into submission, staring straight through the glass with millions of questions still going through your mind. The spike in your heart rate also points to the rush of adrenaline flowing through you. Because you know this story that he is telling. He’s not lying through his teeth. You remember this night. Or, one of the nights, at least. Like Yoongi had said, you giving out blankets and food like air was second nature in your friendship. So was you falling asleep on the couch.

Did those situations hold as much weight for him as they did for you? Or, was he just making up his feelings? After all, the key to lying was skirting as close to the truth as possible. That kind of situation may work for Yoongi, as the liar, but it wasn’t as comforting for you.

You watch the way Yoongi laughs at the gushing Nayeon does, the way he smiles brightly and continues to reinforce how important you are—and you recognize his facade better than anyone else. Of course he’s lying, and you reach their realization with a bit of downfall in your stomach. There’s no way he would be telling the truth, especially considering the situation the pair of you are now in where Yoongi’s career is dependent on his ability to tell a proper lie.

You allow yourself to sink a little deeper into the studio, near the back where the producers of the radio station can discuss amongst each other. This puts you with Jungkook, who has been watching the situation closely the entire time.

“Yoongi can be quite the actor,” Jungkook mumbles. He has this unreadable expression in his eyes, but you know that Jungkook knows that situation Yoongi is describing. It had been Jungkook’s apartment as well. He glances at you, but says nothing.

You continue to stare ahead. That pensive silence continues as Yoongi is released from the radio interview, and thanks Nayeon and Hoseok eagerly for their time and energy. Nayeon returns the gesture, waving to you through the glass when Yoongi points you out. You weakly return the action.

It isn’t until you get into the car, where the pair of you are safe from the wandering eyes and careful ears of the entire world, that one of you elects to speak up. “So, what did you think?” Yoongi asks.

By this point, you’ve recovered swiftly from your disappointment. You smile like it’s your only shield. “As your manager, I’m glad that you were able to make love so poetic—just on brand for you. As your fake girlfriend, I also really have to congratulate you for your storytelling. I even remember those nights too, so it was definitely a good memory to lie about.”

Yoongi flushes a little at your comment, looking pleased with himself for a moment. You smile at his expression, before turning to train your gaze out of the window. The gesture makes you miss the way the smile slips off his face, the way he glances over at you. A good memory to lie about—right.

Yoongi’s radio interview goes viral, and so does any hope you have in trying to forget the tale he had spun during it. Granted, you are happy that people bought his story. You just wish that it wouldn’t have muddled up all your thoughts and feelings along the way.

Naturally, Seokjin is excited about the good press and the fact that the pair of you completed your first assignment well enough. At least, that’s the display he’s presenting when you walk into his office two days after the radio interview. Yesterday was spent looking over social media to see the public’s reaction to Yoongi’s speech about love, and if you as his manager would need to do any damage control. Luckily, you do not. As his manager, it leaves you in good spirits.

But as someone who actually has a crush on Yoongi, it’s less so.

That dejection only furthers itself when you see how excited Seokjin looks, like he’s already plotting the next steps to his little project.

“Ah, Y/N!” Seokjin greets carefully. “Hi, hi, congratulations on your first successful outing with Yoongi! Per the reports I’ve been seeing over social media, you guys did a very good job.”

You sigh, placing four coffee orders onto the table and sliding into the seat in front of Seokjin’s desk. “I didn’t really do that much,” You admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Yoongi did all the talking. I just waved at Nayeon through the glass window.”

“Aaahh,” Seokjin hums, opening up his laptop and turning it around in order for you to see what is on his screen. “Seems like you did a little more than that.”

Your gaze flints down to the big, bold words across the screen: THE INSIDER REPORT ON MIN YOONGI’S RADIO INTERVIEW: Employees at the K-IM Radio Station detail their experience meeting Yoongi and his girlfriend following the announcement of their relationship.

That piques your interest, and you scoot forward in your chair slightly in order to reach out and see what Seokjin is talking about. It’s not a very lengthy article—there is a summary detailing Yoongi’s interview, of course referencing his grand speech about love—but that’s not what takes up the most space.

Your eyes continue to skim over, almost not even believing what you were reading. The intern that first greeted you and Yoongi is in here, talking about how the pair of you were holding hands “in such a loving way, and the way they looked at each other before I led him to the radio booth was so romantic!” (The intern’s words, not yours). There’s even some excerpts from the employees and producers inside the radio booth, the same room you had spent the interview in. Surprisingly, a lot of the accounts are not talking about what Yoongi said. It’s all about how you looked when Yoongi was telling his story.

“It was such a powerful speech, I couldn’t help but look over to Y/N to see her reaction, and she was staring back at Yoongi in such a way that I knew immediately that the genuine nature of their love was a two-way street.”

“... a definite softness in her gaze, like she was reliving that memory with him.”

And so on, and so on.

Your face feels a little warmer when your eyes as you push the laptop away, glancing up to see Seokjin’s staring at you. “See? You did good. The small gestures you do can go a long way—especially when you don’t notice you’re doing them.”

You close the laptop, as if that can physically distance yourself from the assurances of those who had been around you. “Right…” You manage weakly.

“Well,” Seokjin hums, already moving onto the next point of the conversation. If he senses something fishy in your response, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anyways, Yoongi is in the studio right now with Namjoon, so I just want a little update report on your relationship with Yoongi. As in, how is it going between the two of you?”

You ponder this for a moment, thinking about how he took your hand in the car, how he recounted such a personal story to explain the details of his love, the look he gave you when you congratulated his storytelling abilities—like he knew something that you did not.

At the same time, it was such a minor appearance that you didn’t get much of a feel about the romantic aspect of this fake relationship. This is why you sigh. “I’m not too sure. We had such a minor acting role together that it’s hard to say. I will say that right now it feels pretty much the same.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Seokjin approves with a nod. “So you don’t have a problem if I want to plan some informal hang-outs for you and Yoongi? Just as a way to keep your guys in the public eye enough times that fans don’t start doubting your relationship.”

You smile weakly. “Of course. That’s what I signed the NDA for.”

Seokjin laughs, finally waving you off. “Okay, sure. I’ll look into where I think your relationship will make the biggest impact and will update you and Yoongi when I’ve made my decisions.” Finally, he looks over the multiple cups of coffee you had brought over on your cardboard tray, and fishes out the one with his name on it. “This one for me?”

You lean over, flickering your gaze from the cup to his face. “Well, at the very least, I know you can read now.”

His relaxed expression morphs into a playful scowl. “Get out of here brat.”

Your laughter echoes through his office as you take your cardboard tray of three coffee cups and reemerge back into the hallway of the record studio. You walk the familiar path until you reach the door to the recording room—pulling open the door and letting yourself in. Inside the booth, Yoongi is rapping away into his microphone, as his low voice fills the tiny space of this studio. You place the tray down onto one of the tables, picking up your own before sliding over to take a seat on the couch.

As you continue listening to Yoongi wistfully hum about a desire to cross an emotional distance, about how he tells the truth because “it’s you, it’s always been you”—you cannot help your mind wandering into what Seokjin has in store for you over the course of the next few months.

CHAPTER 4: TURNING POINT

Yoongi’s first full length album is set to release in two months.

At least, that’s what KSJ records claims after uploading a quarterly report of Yoongi’s schedule. At first, you don’t think it’s a big deal for Yoongi’s label to post a tentative update about his music progress, but his fans are extremely observant and catch on immediately. It’s good to draw up the hype, you suppose.

Anyways, at the rate that Yoongi is working on the songs for the album, you won’t be surprised if he manages to follow the schedule down to a T. The boy lives and breathes music, and last time you checked the album would consist partly of songs from his EP and new songs—meaning that it cuts down Yoongi’s usual workload into half. Not that he minds, at any rate.

“Okay, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin starts up, standing at the head of the meeting room which only consists of three people. Normally, with meetings with the head of KSJ records himself, there’s a lot more people around to discuss schedule, promotions, and the likes. The fact that it’s just you and Yoongi tells you exactly what you’re doing here. “It’s been a few weeks since your radio interview, and I know that you’re doing well in your progress of the album—but I think it’ll do you well to take a break.”

Yoongi huffs. “It’s nice that you’re reminding me about this, but I’ll rest when the album is released.”

Seokjin snorts. “When did I say rest? I just meant take a break from your album work. Plus you need to get some vitamin C, or whatever shit you get from the sun.”

“It’s vitamin D,” You interject gently.

“Pish posh,” Seokjin waves away your interruption. “Anyways, like I was saying, there is a way for us to kill two birds with one stone. So that you.” He points to Yoongi. “Can get out of the studio for a few hours and you.” He points to you. “Can play into a relationship that’ll help us kill two birds with one stone.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well,” Seokjin continues, leaning over his side of the table to get a few good at his laptop, where it appears that he has a few notes written down regarding the direction of this meeting. “In order to continue generating curiosity about Yoongi’s upcoming album and maintain the public’s constant queries about your relationship, I want you two to go on public outings. I have a few specific places I think would be good cornerstones to touch on, but I’m also willing to let the two of you figure out where you want to spend your time.” He glances up at the two of you. “That should be okay, right?”

You and Yoongi glance at each other. Come to think of it, the pair of you haven’t talked about nor reviewed the events at the radio station since it happened and the underlying questions you still have about his side of the story feels vaguely like a weight hanging over you both. But Yoongi smiles at you, and you think that you can continue to do what you’ve done for years: hide away your feelings.

“Yeah, that should be fine,” You speak up first, smiling back at Yoongi. You turn to Seokjin. “What did you have in mind?”

The question is how you find yourself in a car with Yoongi a few days later, your hands in your lap and your mind spinning with nerves. The radio interview had been one case, but a limited one at that—your role had been very minor and your interaction with Yoongi had only been seconds long. They had definitely been a lot smaller than this new role that Seokjin has assigned to you.

For today, Seokjin has directed the pair of you to the streets of Yoongi’s old stomping ground—the same shopping district with the same corner Yoongi spent all his nights performing in from a time period that seems so long enough. Not long enough, apparently, as Seokjin thinks it would be a nice nod to be ‘accidentally’ discovered walking along a place that holds so much memory.

“I just want you guys to walk around—be happy, but be close,” Seokjin had noted just a few hours prior to you and Yoongi’s departure. “Just look like the pair of you are on a date. Hold hands, smile at each other, all that jazz. Nothing too serious.”

Too bad it actually was kind of serious for you.

You and Yoongi make minor conversation, making some jokes here and there that do well in helping to ease your nerves. You don’t think Yoongi would take notice, but he can be strangely observant. Perhaps the way you keep bouncing one of your legs helps let him know that something is up.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You stop bouncing your leg. “It kind of feels like I’m about to perform, or something—it’s that same kind of rush.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, before he looks out his side of the window. “Well, technically speaking, you are about to perform. You know, with this whole relationship being an act and all.”

“Very true,” You say, nodding your head. “Do we need a game plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I thought that we’d just wing it. We held hands back at the radio station so, uh, I’m assuming that you’re still comfortable with doing that?”

“O-Oh yeah, of course!”

“Then, we can do that. And walk around. Improvise while we do so—just see how the day goes.”

You nod. “Okay, true, true. That sounds good.” You can’t help but give him a sneaky smile. “Look at you, Min Yoongi, you’ve become quite the performer. Improvisation used to be something you were never too good at.”

Yoongi flushes a little, smiling back at you. “Give me a little credit. You gotta have backups for your backups, especially in situations when your sound gives up on you in the middle of one of your sets.”

You laugh, because this reminds you about one of Yoongi’s first live sets along the very street the pair of you will be approaching shortly. His speakers had just given up, forcing Yoongi to go entirely acapella. In a way, that mistake ended up garnering him more fans who grew to respect his craft and talent for music and singing. But as they say, hindsight is 20 20.

You and Yoongi continue to laugh about that memory for a few minutes before Taehyung arrives along the outskirts of the shopping district, pulling up along the curb. The car is on the other side of this bustling area, just a few feet away from the pedestrian walkway that is littering with people going to and fro.

Taehyung turns around in his seat to give the pair of you a look. “Now kids, I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to get picked up.” He’s grinning around the words though

You glare at him. “Sure thing dad,” You bite back, already opening the car door to take your leave. Your feet land onto the concrete of the sidewalk as you pull yourself into a standing position. Yoongi joins you shortly after, standing close to you. “Bye,” You say, slamming the door into Taehyung’s face before he can get in one last snarky reply.

Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh for Taehyung’s benefit. But it’s an act he can only hold together for so long, because he does start to laugh as soon as Taehyung and the company car turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

After a second, Yoongi turns to you and gestures towards the pedestrian walkway just a few feet ahead. “Shall we?”

You nod, taking the hand that he extends out to you. Just an act, you tell yourself, you allow him to lace your fingers together. Nevermind the fact that the weight on your hand feels entirely too reassuring and comforting for the current context.

Ignoring that feeling, you squeeze his hand and let him lead you towards the walkway, where you cross the street with no problem. Since Yoongi nor Seokjin had announced Yoongi’s presence at this plaza for the day, you can only hope that too much attention won’t be drawn to you.

It’s a thought that you are able to entertain for a few minutes. Yoongi may not have the star quality status of mainstream celebrities (yet), but he’s still someone who has been on the radio, has done a country-wide tour, and has a youtube following of a couple million people (four now, the last time you checked—subscriber counts tend to zip by after a person hits a million). That small list of accomplishments is more than enough to drag in a few wandering eyes. Okay, maybe a little more than a few.

You think that you’ve kind of developed a seventh sense to knowing when Yoongi was being recognized. It’s shown in the double-glances some people start shooting at him, at quick whispers behind closed hands, and craning necks over shoulders.

You’re okay with people knowing about Yoongi’s current location, but the memory of his tours and even the crowd problem that came up during his street performances flashback in your mind. You don’t think you want to deal with that situation right now—secretly preferring if people just observed from a distance.

Without thinking twice, you tighten your hold on Yoongi’s hand long enough to lead him into one of the stores along the sidewalk—an accessories booth with fake glasses, rings, earrings, the likes.

Yoongi watches you, a touch of amusement in his eyes like he knows what you’re thinking. Still, he asks. “What are you doing?”

You rummage through the wide selection of glasses, fully aware that one or two people have spotted the pair of you and are lingering near the entrance to catch a glance at what you two are doing. From the looks of it, no one is going to stir up a commotion. You still want to make sure.

“You stand out,” You explain vaguely, finding a pair of circle glasses in black-rims from the pile before turning around and more or less smashing the glasses against his face. It’s difficult to try and put glasses on another person, you miss his ears a few times and almost get him in the eye, but Yoongi strangely enough lets you manhandle him.

In the midst of your last few attempts you step forward and scoot even closer to him to try and get the glasses more properly situated on his face. Due to the proximity, Yoongi’s hands fly up from his side to avoid being pressed uncomfortably against his chest, choosing to rest at your waist. At first, you don’t feel the weight of his hands, you’re too focused on making sure the fake glasses you’ve selected can fit in place.

As soon as you’ve properly aligned the glasses to his face, you lower your hands from his face. The action makes you suddenly hyper aware of the current position you’ve put yourself in. It’s not very often that you get handsy with Yoongi, it’s a side of you that comes out when the pair of you are in a hurry, but hardly during candid moments like this.

Immediately, Yoongi’s hands feel like warm flames tickling your skin, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of his position, of his closeness. Your eyes flicker up, seeing his face with those glasses you’ve just shoved onto him sitting nicely at the bridge of his nose, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. The stare he’s giving you only heightens the gravitational pull you feel towards him.

You don’t know how long the pair of you are just standing in the middle of the store, staring at each other, until you feel the weight of a third party approaching the pair of you.

You practically shove yourself away from Yoongi, trying to make it seem as if you’re just stepping back to get an overall look at his face (Yoongi featuring glasses). Yoongi lets you go.

The third party is an employee of the accessories booth, smiling widely. “Sorry to interrupt,” She says, looking over at Yoongi. “Sir, I just want to say that those glasses look great on you. And just to let you know we’re having a sale on that collection so it’s a buy one get the other one half off so maybe you two can match if you’re up to it…”

You tune her out after a second, realizing that you can’t really keep up with what she’s saying considering the current firestorm that’s going on inside your head. Why couldn’t you have just asked Yoongi to put the glasses on himself? You curse yourself for letting your guard down—sometimes you try to do things of your own accord, and today you were paying the price.

When you don’t speak after a few seconds, Yoongi smiles at the employee. “Got it, thanks a lot.” He waits until the employee returns back to rearranging some earrings on a nearby shelf before turning back to you. “How does it look?”

He does look good, but you play it down by tilting your head and settling with a shrug. “Well, you’ve looked better—but this’ll have to do.”

Yoongi laughs, before he does something that catches you off guard. He steps closer to you. “So you think there are times when I do look good?”

You try not to look too bewildered at his gesture. You can tell that he does feel a little nervous about the fact he’s testing the waters so boldly without any practice, but it’s all part of the act. Just as Seokjin said: be happy, be close.

So you place a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly with your own little teasing smile. “I said better—that doesn’t always mean you were ever good to begin with.”

Yoongi makes a noise of protest, and without warning just swings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side. “You’re breaking my heart everyday!”

“You must like the abuse, you’re still with me,” You bite back playfully without thought. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like you’re in a store with people who vaguely recognize Yoongi’s appearance—for a split second, it feels like just you and him, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

Upon Yoongi’s lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Good job, I think the group of girls outside caught our picture.”

That dreamy fantasy where it was just you and Yoongi and nothing else mattered came crashing down, squaring you right back into reality. It’s not a disappointing feeling per say—just a vague extra hammering of your heartbeat, a vague guilt that you let your mind let its guard down like that. “Right,” You say. “Uh…” You try to think, which proves to be a difficult thing to do with Yoongi’s weight pressed up against you and everything. You clap your hands together. “Okay, let’s grab a hat and then we’ll be on our way.”

You make sure to be a little less handsy when it comes to hat selections, but you knew there was only so far you could escape given the current context of the situation. Yoongi seems to know that, because he stays close to you as you’re both shifting through hats, and even when he pays for his hat and glasses combination before exiting the booth. The pair of you pass through the two girls that were lingering outside of the booth, where Yoongi gives them the smallest wave and hello before carrying on with the rest of the trip.

With the hat and glasses combination, it definitely draws less attention to Yoongi’s classic fluffy black hair and gummy smile—especially if you’re using what was going on in the beginning of your trip as a baseline. This means that you and Yoongi can carry on with the rest of your outing with feeling the obvious heavy weight of gazes on your shoulder.

With intertwined hands the pair of you first stop by one of the local cafes and sit right alongside the window to enjoy some pasta and soda combinations. You roll up the noodles onto your fork and clink utensils with Yoongi before slipping the noodles in your mouth—tomato sauce with flavor slipped into every side piece of noodle. It’s amazing, and you cannot help but gush so as you smile brightly around your fork.

You’re too busy stirring your fork around yet another string of pasta that you fail to see the softening look of the boy across the table from you. It’s a look that disappears by the time your gaze glints back up to resume the conversation. The pasta is considered a snack above all else, so it doesn’t take long for the pair of you to finish up your meal. Leaving a tip behind on the table, Yoongi walks over to you just as you’re straightening up from your chair. Silently, he offers his hand to you.

Knowing the routine by now, you take his hand, silently lacing your fingers together and letting him lead the way out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. The later afternoon shows itself in the steady increase of people, which is good because it makes you feel as if you can blend into the crowd either. There are still the occasional phones out, trailing after you and Yoongi as you walk along the sidewalk, but nothing that ever makes you feel as if you need to call Taehyung.

“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” You grumble to Yoongi quietly, a comment that he laughs at.

“I’m not that famous,” Yoongi jokingly teases you. “And my fans are just being respectful—give them a little credit.” His voice dies down shortly after, however, but it only takes you a few seconds to realize why.

The pair of you, in the midst of your simple ‘walk along the sidewalk’ plan, have arrived at a very familiar street corner. The sunset means that arriving performers who work best once the sun leaves are just beginning to set up their stage—laying out equipment, testing out sound systems, saying hello to some passersby who recognize the artists getting ready. You can read the signs of these interactions very easily. After all, it’s what Yoongi used to do a year ago, at this very spot too.

In front of you, a new performer, a singer, is setting up her own equipment—guitar in hand as she practices her strumming. You inch closer to Yoongi, your arms molded against each other. “Hey, hey,” You whisper at Yoongi. The boy leans over to better hear you. “She reminds me of you.”

Yoongi laughs. “What do you mean? How?”

You glance over at the girl again, not noticing the way Yoongi is still staring at you, quietly awaiting your answer. “You guys have the same drive,” You eventually note. “And the same determination. It’s easy to see in her, just as it’s always been like that for you…” You trail off, looking over to realize that he’s still looking at you.

“You noticed those things, huh?” Yoongi asks quietly.

His gaze is too enticing to look away from, pulling you in through a situation not unlike what had happened at the accessories shop earlier that afternoon. “I-I mean, of course I do…” Yoongi’s gaze feels like hot magnets that are just pulling the next words out of you. “I always notice with you.”

The world seems to quiet down at that, everything slowing down as you feel yourself mentally curse yourself out for those words. Why would you say it like that?

A million thoughts go through your head at once. You weren’t really lying or trying to play a part. You were being honest. You do always notice with Yoongi. And since he clearly only sees you as a friend that could participate in whatever scheme he can get himself into, then he would obviously hear your statement and think of it as nothing more than a friendly complement. Right? RIGHT?

Except, Yoongi is still just standing next to you, staring at you, not making any sort of comment whatsoever. He has that unreadable expression in his gaze, a look he always gives you when you let the cracks slip in your facade, but it’s something he never talks about, never explains to you—just like right now.

The silence grows tense, so tense that it begins to feel like weights on your shoulders, like a coil wrapping itself around your heart, because why isn’t he saying anything?

Yoongi hums, low and throaty and that coil around your heart drops into your stomach. “Is that so?” He inquires softly, continuing to gaze at you.

His gaze drops down to your lips, and that coil is replaced with butterflies all around you. It starts are a flutter in your stomach, in your heart, and your mind starts to race because what the fuck is happening?

Around you, the growing number of people means that someone accidentally bumps into you, driving you forward right into Yoongi’s chest. The pair of you stumble, effectively dissipating that cloud of tension that had threatened to curl through you. You cough, taking a small step away from Yoongi so that while the pair of you were still holding hands, that was the only thing connecting the pair of you.

You and Yoongi don’t have another run in like that for the remainder of the date, as that late afternoon sunset fades away into nighttime and you and Yoongi spend that time trying to enjoy each other’s presence whilst also not engaging in too much physical contact. Your fingers remain loosely intertwined but it never tightens as if the small air of space between your hands can hide away the nerves and tension you feel yourself trying to contain.

Even when Taehyung comes to pick the two of you up, and you no longer are under the obligation to hold hands, that air of space still feels heavy between the two of you.

The overwhelming positive response of your first official public date sends Seokjin through the moon, as well as provides him with a drive to arrange and send you and Yoongi out on more dates. All of which, fortunately for you, don’t come nearly as close to the level of tension experienced from the first date. Partly because you know your limits, and go into each planned date with a level of expectation for yourself as well as rules that you’ve internally programmed yourself to follow every time you and Yoongi step out of the car.

At the museum date, you make sure to keep your distance, using your intertwined hands with Yoongi as the only signal of your relationship. The pair of you joke around about the art pieces, whispering between each other about how many fans have taken pictures of the pair of you lingering about the museum, as well as relay information to each other about various rooms that you are interested in. But in a way, it definitely feels more like a typical friendly hang-out rather than a date.

The same idea can be applied to the next date Seokjin sends you on—a casual date at one of the local botanical gardens, each garden filled with a different culture to serve as the theme for its layout and plant growth. Some gardens have little cafe booths and grassy fields to buy some snacks before sitting down to enjoy the sunlight, which is an idea that Yoongi suggests that the two of you do. He points to one of the ice cream shops along the outskirts of a garden, and claims a seat on one of the benches so the two of you can enjoy your treat. The current summertime weather emits a warmer heat and breeze that curls lightly through the air throughout the day, making for a perfectly comfortable season to wear a sundress. It’s also the kind of undetectable weather for ice cream to melt down the cone, onto unsuspecting fingers curled into the dry waffle texture. Yoongi makes that well aware by poking your cheek with his sticky finger, garnering several pictures of the encounter.

Seokjin has even tried to implement studio life into his constant narrative to keep up the facade of your relationship with Yoongi. While the pair of you go on these occasional dates, Yoongi also has a deadline to fulfill with his album release. On the days where dates are not planned out, he’ll be in the studio—rearranging songs to fit in with the music beats that have more or less been tapered down to perfection. As his manager, sometimes you find yourself staying past your allotted time slot of being at the studio, before sneaking into the recording booth way past midnight to see what Yoongi and Namjoon are up to.

Just as it follows: you straighten up, craning your neck backwards a little to allow for slight muscle extensions after sitting at a desk for an extra hour too long. With Yoongi’s album steadily approaching, there are interviews that need to be arranged, magazines and newspapers and radio shows alike all reaching out to you for the opportunity to cover Yoongi’s growth as an artist. Albums also equate to tours to help promote the album, and with the close call from Yoongi’s last experience with such, it means that you need to book more locations—or the same location across multiple dates.

Overall, the growing pile of work means that you and everyone else at KSJ Studios are just as anticipated for Yoongi’s album release as the general public. It seems as if his collective fanbase are hoping and waiting under the same parameters: was the album going to be as good as they were expecting?

You shoulder your purse, stepping out of your office and shutting it behind you. You navigate through the hallways, glancing sideways to peek out the long glassway of windows, all overlooking the city skyline, the multicolor lights flickering ahead in the distance. You quirk a lip.

Your usual brisk pace dies down when you pass the studio you know Yoongi and Namjoon are recording in. The soundproof walls inside mean that hardly any music ever seeps out from between the cracks, only heightening your curiosity. Your busy schedule recently has made it so you have hardly been able to hear what Yoongi and Namjoon have come up with.

You glance down at your watch. It was nearing midnight. Well, you think to yourself, a little peek wouldn’t hurt. You reach over to grip the door handle, pushing it down and pushing it open. Inside is the usual scene: Yoongi behind the glass, his fingers curled around the headphones as he speaks into the microphone. His voice filters through the main studio area, where Namjoon sits behind computers and music panels, capturing every single second of what is going on.

Further driven by curiosity, you find yourself pulling harder at the door to let yourself in. Namjoon turns at the sound, but softens a little when he sees that it’s you.

“Burning the midnight oil?” You tease, standing next to Namjoon at the table, watching Yoongi’s closed eyes as he loses himself in the song.

Namjoon grins back. “You’re not gonna tell us to stop, are you?”

“Hey.” You bring both arms up in a sign of surrender. “I’m off the clock on this one. Just wanted to see what you two were up to.”

Suddenly, Yoongi calls your name from behind the glass, as the noise is amplified through the studio. You jump slightly, having not expected to be noticed so soon. Yoongi waves. “It’s late!” He calls. “What are you still doing here?”

You lean forward to press the button that opens the two-way communication. “I’m not sure you heard, but there’s an artist in this studio that’s working on an upcoming album—it’s causing a lot of pain for the rest of us.”

Yoongi laughs at that. “Touche, touche.” He brightens up slightly. “Hey, we’re wrapping up on this song, so if you stick around I’ll drive you home.”

This is a natural offer for Yoongi to make, considering the extent to which you’ve spent long nights here. Brushing it off as nothing more than Yoongi just being a good pal, you nod and flash him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, sounds good. But take your time. Don’t let me get in the way.”

You turn around, allowing the music of Yoongi’s song to refilter back through the studio. You park yourself atop the couch at the back, settling into the soft cushions. Come to think of it, falling asleep definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to do—especially on this couch. And you’re exhausted, what with scheduling events all day and having to burn through your social battery by making one too many phone calls with various people within the industry.

The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s soft humming that fades away into a quiet static.

You jerk awake after what feels like a few minutes—but judging from your new position on the couch (horizontal this time, instead of vertical) and the blanket that has been tucked under your chin, you realize quickly that this few minutes has actually been a few hours. It might be hard to believe that, because the world around you still seems very similar to what it had been when you fell asleep. The lack of windows in the studio make it very difficult to distinguish time—although Yoongi’s voice sounds much closer than it had when you first fell asleep.

You sit up.

Namjoon and Yoongi jolt at your sudden movement. “Woah! She’s awake now,” Yoongi teases.

Blinking for a few seconds, you turn your head to find Yoongi out of the recording booth and instead sitting at one of the tables in the actual studio setting. Surrounding Namjoon and Yoongi looks like an entire McDonalds family meal: chicken nuggets, $1 menu burgers, lots of french fries…

You let out a breath to help further situate you to your new surroundings. “Min Yoongi…” You start, voice hoarse. “You said you were just finishing up.”

“I was,” Yoongi explains, looking vaguely guilty. Only vaguely though. “But I had this sudden epiphany, like holy shit you really had to be here—it was crazy.”

“I was here,” You choke out.

Yoongi waves you off. “You know what I mean—here here. Anyways, yeah, we realized that we couldn’t leave, especially when I got Namjoon on the same page. He was just as excited as I was!”

Namjoon slaps his hand. “Don’t drag me into this!”

Yoongi ignores him. “Anyways, it’s like two in the morning and we got hungry. McDonalds is the food of champions, after all. You hungry? Here, have some water first.” He grabs a bottle of water from the table and unscrews the cap. Suddenly, he’s standing up and making his way towards the couch. He sits down next to you, offering the water to you. “Here. You must be thirsty.”

You are. Still heavy-lidded too, but you try your best to blink away the exhaustion as you blindly reach for the water and manage to grab it after Yoongi adjusts his own angled arm. He watches you as you tilt your head back to down some of the water, accidentally drinking a little more than your mouth can handle. Some of it slides down the corner of your lip, making you angle your head back properly and remove your lips from the bottle head.

Yoongi softens a little at your clumsy nature, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved forward in order to pat the corner of your mouth. “Aw, look at my tiny little baby, can’t even drink water properly,” He coos.

You flinch slightly away from him, trying for a glare that comes out more like a pout. Yoongi laughs softly at the sight. “There are no cameras around us, Min Yoongi,” You grumble out. “You don’t need to be so attentive.”

“Nevermind that, I’m just trying to be a friend. You want a french fry?” He reaches across the space separating the couch from the table, and grabs the box of salty french fries. His voice carries that usual positive disposition from previously, but the light in his eyes has died down a little. You don’t notice it, too busy looking at the french fries and realizing that you are actually a little hungry.

The remainder of Yoongi and Namjoon’s break is dedicated to finishing up the family meal, before Yoongi looks at the clock and claps his hands together. “Hey Namjoon, I think I should take my girl home before we get back to working. Is that okay?”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker between the two of you, but he relents. “Of course.” He utters your name. “Have a good night.”

“I should be saying that to you,” You return teasingly, more of your senses have returned since putting food into your stomach. “See you tomorrow, Namjoon.”

So Yoongi takes you home, driving through the darkened streets, making light conversation with you, completely ignoring the fact that he has just addressed you as his girl, before your phone starts to buzz in your lap. It’s a notification from Instagram, saying that Namjoon has tagged you in a picture. Raising an eyebrow, you tap the alert, which takes you to a picture from just a few minutes ago—you and Yoongi at the studio, Yoongi tapping gently at your face with his sweater paw. The caption burns into your mind: three am company, ft my favorite artist and his favorite girl.

His favorite girl.

His girl.

CHAPTER 5: HIS GIRL

Yoongi’s album is entitled Y2, and it releases in the autumn, when the leaves are colored orange and the breeze has called for cozy jackets and big sweaters. It’s the perfect attire to wear as the earphones get plugged in and slipped into ears—curled up by soft cashmere and Yoongi’s luring voice. He’s got about sixteen songs on the album, a sweet mixture of loose beats and soft vocal voices that seem to simultaneously battle the drawn out harsh tone of stories extended across various three minute arrangements. The stories cover the low point—passive aggressive fights, of late nights, of “holding your hand, being so close, yet feeling so lonely”. But the songs also touch on the high points—coming back together, of soft morning light, of “being with you, wiping the traces of exhaustion from the corner of your lips, so close yet so far away, and still knowing you’re all I [he] could ever want”.

At least, it is what one article touches upon in a Y2 review, where the journalist gives high remarks to Yoongi’s album. She calls it a refreshing interpretation of music, continuing in the era of singers actually singing about their feelings. More than that, an era of storytelling in music. Of anything, of life, of the highs and the lows—the sadness, the happiness, the softness.

Safe to say that Yoongi is very excited to read this review on his phone, along with the surplus of positive things people have to say—from highly regarded journalists who belong to highly regarded newspaper companies, from social media, from his friends and family. Most especially, from you. You: whose hand he holds underneath the table as the numbers of listens start pouring in from various streaming websites.

He’s been nervous about this. He’s put his blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of this album, every song has been nailed down to perfection. His name, and his heart, is back out into the world.

The night of the album release is the launch party.

“Dude, it’s supposed to be a chill night,” Jungkook calls from the hallway, and you can’t help but laugh at how exasperated the boy sounds. “Would you just calm down?” Jungkook emerges from the aforementioned hallway. Despite his mention of this ‘chill night’, he’s still wearing something vaguely casual chic. “You’re his manager. Manage his overthinking tendencies.”

You laugh, watching as Jungkook plops down into the empty spot next to you on the couch, immediately leaning back into the cushion. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have that much control over him.”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You probably have more control than you think.”

Before you can ask more questions, think more deeply into what the fuck Jungkook means by that, his eyes land on the hallway entrance before straightening up in the cusion. Your eyes follow Jungkook’s movement, where Yoongi is now standing in the once vacant space of his apartment. But his stance isn’t what gets you to stare, what makes your breath feel like it has just caught in your chest. Although he’s following the ‘casual chic’ dress code that Seokjin has ordered, there’s something about a white t-shirt that hits differently when it’s paired with a coat and dark jeans that highlight his long legs.

Yoongi gestures down at what he’s wearing meekly. “What do you think?” Although it appears that he’s addressing both you and Jungkook, his gaze is almost entirely fixed on you.

Trying hard to ignore the racing of your heart, you straighten up and somehow manage to make your way over to him without snapping your ankle on your chunky platform boots. Doing your best to pay attention to his outfit over his face, you reach over to straighten out the silver necklace he’s got dangling at his chest. “You look good,” You settle calmly. “And Jungkook is right—it’s supposed to be a chill night. Seokjin just invited people from the label. And some of your friends as well. Relax a bit, will you?”

Finally, you force yourself to level your gaze with Yoongi’s, fully confident that he’s just staring at you and probably wondering why you aren’t making eye contact with him. But when you do manage to glance at Yoongi’s face, you realize quickly that he’s not even staring at you. Instead, he’s staring down, at the curve of your throat.

Without warning, your cardiac system seems to pump itself too hard, because your breath of surprise comes out through your nose, effectively bringing up and lowering your lungs so fast that anyone would be able to read your vital sounds now. This proves to be true, because Yoongi’s gaze darts up from your neck to your eyes so quickly, that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had you stuck around without looking at his eyes. Doing that, however, might have saved you from this now tricky situation. “Sorry,” Yoongi manages, eyes flickering between yours. “I, uh, didn’t hear what you said.”

You realize the gravity of your position—your fingers now curled around the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket and one of his hands curled around your waist. That gravitational pull from every single one of your dates with Yoongi comes back again, curling around your neck and seeming to push you closer, closer—!

Jungkook coughs loudly from behind you.

You and Yoongi tear your gazes away from each other, as you uncurl both of your fingers from around Yoongi’s coat. “I-uh,” You start. “Was just saying that you should relax a little. You don’t have to try and impress anyone tonight.”

Yoongi sneaks one last glance at you. “We’ll see,” He says, before stepping away from you and brushing past Jungkook to make his way towards the door. Jungkook turns to look at you, wide-eyed and mouthing the words ‘what the fuck was that?’

To which you shake your head, very sure that you don’t want to get into this tonight of all nights. This was supposed to be a celebration for Yoongi. Just as you’ve done for the past few months, you can continue to keep your emotions in check. Easy-peasy.

Except it’s not easy-peasy because you see Seokjin at the club that he’s reserved for Yoongi’s album release party, and you realize that this is not a chill event for you—you still have to keep up the facade of your relationship in front of everyone.

Yoongi seems to realize this at the same time you do, because he inches closer to you and laces your fingers together. From afar, Seokjin nods in an unspoken confirmation regarding your behavior.

The beginning of the party starts with the trickle in of the various guests Seokjin has invited—from the friends he has made in the business, to others signed under the KSJ records label, to you, Jungkook, and Yoongi’s personal friends from college. The onslaught of new people fills you with the usual sense of excitement after not having attended a party in what feels like years. Working as a manager for a budding new artist is a lot less about the parties and more about the hustle.

The first hour of the event is dedicated to the mingling of people—of free food and conversations around the bottomless cocktails that every guest rushes to the bar to take full advantage of. It’s nice to be able to catch up with the friends that you and Yoongi haven’t spoken to since graduation—which is the group you and Yoongi first approach, as Yoongi is slinging his arm around one Park Jimin. The latter whose eyes widen and lips curl up into a grin at the sight of the two of you. It’s nice to see an old friend again, it almost brings you back to a time where you and Yoongi were both in-tune and surface-level friends.

“Hey, congratulations on the new album release!” Jimin exclaims brightly after the three of you have acquired some drinks from the bartender. Jimin raises his drink first, to which you and Yoongi follow suit.

As the glasses clink into the air, Jimin adds in another thing that reminds you of the fact that you and Yoongi are not back in college. You are here, in the present, with a fake relationship on the line.

“And congratulations to your relationship announcement,” Jimin continues.

You cough on your drink at that, lowering the glass immediately, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Jimin, I know what all those reports have been saying…”

“Don’t worry,” Jimin brushes off. “I read through some of them. You guys have been dating for three years, right? I’m honestly surprised I never saw it. In hindsight, it makes sense.” Jimin takes a longer sip, gesturing towards Yoongi with a noise of acknowledgement coming from his throat. “Hm—I guess because you guys are dating now, I can let the cat out of the bag—but, Yoongi liked you from the first moment he met you.”

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink, his chest heaving as he coughs into his sleeve. “Jimin, ah, you don’t need to talk about that—!”

Jimin laughs, naturally assuming that Yoongi’s choke was done out of shyness and not something deeper than that. “What, you think just because this happened when we were at college, I wouldn’t have said something all these years later?”

You can’t help but smile at their exchange. Although Jimin’s comment about Yoongi’s crush definitely piques your interest. You turn to Yoongi. “You had a crush on me back then?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Jimin beats him to it. “Oh yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about you—said that you had this smile like starlight and were super easy to talk to.”

“You have a great memory for someone who almost flunked college algebra,” Yoongi bites out hotly.

Jimin, clearly oblivious to the situation, laughs out loud. “I agree. Normally I would have forgotten all about that. But.” With Jimin’s fingers still curled around the wine glass, he is only able to point an index finger out at Yoongi. “I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you were never going to let go of.”

You know Jimin is the one talking, but you cannot help but look at Yoongi as you feel your world spinning slightly around you. You blame it on the alcohol—as small of a sip as you have taken so far. Jimin, unlike a lot of the other parties you’ve been spending your time with, is not in on the joke of your relationship with Yoongi being a PR cover story. So there has to be some merit to it. Right?

Right?

Before you can even think how to phrase the billions of questions flying through your mind, the soft beat of a hand against a microphone sounds through the bar, as the original music that has been pounding through the club gets lowered to show that someone is trying to command everyone’s attention.

It’s Kim Seokjin, situated at the stage, with the microphone in hand. “Hey everyone! Before we actually start unveiling the numbers that Y2 has hit so far, I just want to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the anticipated release of Min Yoongi’s album.”

Lots of claps sound from the guests, several cheers, one of you and Jimin join in just for the sake of embarrassing Yoongi. If he’s flustered with the attention, he’s gotten a lot better at hiding it.

“Actually,” Seokjin continues. “Why don’t we have the man of the hour join us? After all, my words don’t mean shit up here—I wasn’t the one who just released new music. Yoongi, come on up!”

Lots more claps and cheers, and the music volume increases dramatically just to give Yoongi some sort of platform to enter on. It makes you laugh. Seokjin is clearly having fun with his role. So you watch, sticking by Jimin, as Yoongi emerges from the crowd to step onto the stage. Seokjin pulls the microphone away from the pair of them as he leans over to whisper something into Yoongi’s ear, where the latter nods a few times before accepting the microphone that is now being extended out to him.

Yoongi clears his throat, speaking over the lowering music. “Hi guys, thanks so much for coming out,” He starts, laughing a little when there is another round of cheers. “As I’m sure a lot of you know, this is my first full length album that’s being released out into the world and it’s basically everything I ever could have dreamed of. One lesson that I’ve learned is that making albums of both the cover songs I did and the original songs I would produce in my shitty college apartment is a completely different experience than getting professional equipment to do a lot of the work for me.”

You laugh at that, the memories floating through your mind.

Yoongi smiles a little at the feedback he gets. But he continues. “And of course a lot of that professional equipment was able to work in my favor because I had helped. Seokjin of course, deserves a thank you for letting me learn and experiment with new sounds, and for letting me take a risk by trying out beats and stories that a lot of people might have turned down. And Namjoon.” He seems to spot Namjoon from the crowd, because he delivers a nod. “For being more than my favorite producer, but also my mentor and my guide. We had a lot of lightbulb late nights together. And finally…” His eyes land on you, and you feel yourself self-consciously straighten up. “Y/N—my Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, my girlfriend is my manager and we recently made our relationship public. I thought the transition from private to public would have been the hardest thing of my life, but she made it so easy. Just as she’s always made it so easy to inspire my music, to be my best friend—and to love her.”

Love.

You suddenly feel like you’re seeing the world through a small lens, unable to believe the words you are hearing and the sights you are seeing. Yoongi is staring right back at you, with all this love and adoration in his eyes, lips quirking up as a result of the coos from the audience.

It’s a vague kind of spotlight anxiety from seeing so many people looking at you considering the circumstances. It’s a feeling that only heightens when Yoongi opens his mouth again to continue speaking. “Actually, honey, why don’t you come up here, so I can thank you properly.”

The whoops and cheers sound again, and Jimin has to nudge you in the ribs to get you to move. Your initial thoughts are one of panic, suspicion, and curiosity. One glance at Seokjin’s direction conveys the high influx of questions that are flowing through your mind—what exactly are those two boys planning?

Yoongi’s hand extends out to you, helping you up onto the stage, as you turn around to face the crowd of people Yoongi has just been addressing. Of course, you have less experience hiding your general shyness around crowds, so the most you can muster is a smile and a wave.

Yoongi laughs into the microphone. “Don’t worry baby, I didn’t call you up to embarrass you. I just wanted to show you that all of this…” He gestures to the whole club, the crowds of people who have taken time out of their schedule to show support, the sounds of his album now filtering through the speakers. “All of this was possible because you believed in me, you supported me, and agreed to help me work toward my dream. This is all as much yours as it is mine.”

Then, he surprises you by leaning forward to brush his lips across your cheek—a gesture that further incites a bigger reaction of positive cheers and hoots from the audience. You turn your head immediately towards him as soon as he pulls away, your eyes wide with surprise. After all, you and Yoongi have never discussed the rule on kissing before, have never brought up any sort of lip contact to any degree. His boldness is something that takes you completely off guard.

And judging from the uncertain look that dances behind his eyes, a flicker that only you can see and decipher, you can tell that he hadn’t been expecting that from himself either.

You’re about to pull away, maybe walk off the stage and take another drink to whatever the fuck that was all about, before Jimin’s familiar voice sounds off from within the crowd.

“You call that a kiss, Min Yoongi?” Jimin calls, close enough now that it’s easier to see him. “C’mon, kiss your girlfriend like you mean it!”

The rest of the crowd immediately catches onto what Jimin is doing, and they play into it immediately. Suddenly, shouts of “KISS HER, KISS HER!” sound throughout the guests.

The new direction that this has taken over the span of just a few seconds seconds you into another wild onslaught of differing emotions. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never agreed to actually kiss Min Yoongi. Obviously, the internal choice has been made for a handful of reasons, none of which you can explain to Yoongi or Seokjin without digging yourself further into this hole where you would truly have no way of escaping.

Which is why you clearly can’t say anything of protest right now. Everyone thinks the pair of you have been dating for years, and that kissing has become a natural action for you both to do. Of course they would play into Jimin’s game, thinking nothing harmful of it.

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you shift your gaze from the crowd of people before you to Yoongi, who looks equally as stunned by the request as you. He plays it off a little bit, however, smiling as he brings the microphone close to his mouth again. “I’m not sure you all would want to be subjected by some PDA, especially you over there, Park.”

Jimin makes a noise of disapproval. “It’ll just be this one time! I’m sure people don’t mind! Spread the love, Min.”

Other people from the guest list add on that they don’t mind in between their laughter and giggles, probably writing off you and Yoongi’s shy disposition as just that: a shy, private couple who is still getting used to the watchful eye of the general public. Nevermind the fact that you and Yoongi have just never kissed each other before.

Yoongi then turns to look at you, microphone down to his legs so that it can’t pick up the small whispers the pair of you start exchanging. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you up here…”

“No, no, it’s fine, I understand why you did it…” You trail off. “Kissing my cheek, on the other hand…”

Yoongi groans. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Seokjin said I could consider doing it but I wasn’t thinking when I leaned over. I completely forgot that Jimin is a menace to society. I’m gonna kick his ass after this.”

You want to continue this private, side-lined conversation, but it is overrun by the louder voices that keep repeating the same two lines over and over again: “KISS HER, KISS HER!” until the echoes of it start ringing in your ear drums.

Yoongi switches topics to the more pressing one at hand. “So, uh, I guess we should…”

You exhale quickly, nodding. “It seems so…”

Yoongi inches closer to you, his breath fanning your lips as your eyes instinctively close. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, the final thing he says to you before he kisses you.

Now, let’s backtrack a little. You’ve liked Yoongi for years, so to say that you’ve never thought of this moment would just be a lie to yourself. Of course you’ve thought about kissing Yoongi. Or, at the very least, you’ve caught yourself staring at his lips when he would go off on another spiral about his passions. That type of talking is very hot, so what?

But you never thought you would be able to experience it, to kiss the lips you’ve flickered your eyes to more times than you’re willing to admit. So as soon as you feel the weight of his mouth against your own, your brain goes haywire. Suddenly, all your senses are hyper focused on Yoongi—from his lips, to the warmth of his body wrapping itself around you, to his fingers curled around your wrist.

You hardly hear the cheers from the audience, too busy allowing your heart to melt into butterflies as he presses harder into you, moving his lips against yours. You part your lips as well, curling your wrist to gather the material of his shirt into your hands.

It feels like time has stretched out before Seokjin claps both of you on the back, forcing you to jolt away from Yoongi. He actually looks flustered this time—pink cheeks and reddened lips, his eyes are fixated on you, chest heaving. You feel like you’re in a similar state of shock, especially because kissing Yoongi makes something dawn on you. A realization of ice cold water.

This isn’t just a crush you’ve harbored on Yoongi for the past few years. This isn’t just some small schoolgirl crush living out a fantasy, or something you can easily brush off, or simple butterflies you can squash everytime he reaches out to hold your hand. This is love. You’re in love with your best friend. And you have absolutely no fucking clue what to do about it.

If the audience is taken aback by this long-term couple in front of them looking zero point two seconds away from devouring each other in a frenzied passion, no one settles long enough to comment or stare upon it for too long. Seokjin does well to grab the microphone from Yoongi and bring the attention back to the actual party on hand. He mentions another round of free alcohol, which are two words that can take anyone’s attention away.

“And Yoongi, uh, I actually need to borrow for you a moment,” Seokjin murmurs in a low voice. “So I hope I’m not taking away from…” He trails off, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you. “Whatever this is…”

“Oh no!” You interject quickly, taking a step away from Yoongi. “Not taking away at all.”

Yoongi gives you a concerned look. “Maybe we should, uh, talk about that…”

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, seriously.” You shrug a shoulder. “Just part of the act, right?”

Yoongi’s concern melts away into something that might be hurt, but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come. “I’ll try not to be long then.”

You nod. “Yeah, no problem—no need to rush or anything… I’ll just be hanging out with Jimin…”

Yoongi gazes at you for a few seconds longer, before he lets himself get dragged off the stage by Seokjin. Rather than immediately go out to seek your old friend, you find your gaze following after the two of them, trying to see where exactly Yoongi is getting roped into.

You continue to trail after them in the club, until the two of them are pulled into a booth—the person opposite of them makes your lips part in utter shock.

“Yoongi, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Seokjin starts as he and Yoongi dive deeper into the thrones of people. Yoongi feels himself being directed towards a corner booth, currently occupied by two people. “She wanted me to introduce you.” Finally, the pair of them stop at the head of the table. “This is Lee Jieun.”

Right off the bat, Yoongi is vaguely insulted that Seokjin thought that someone like Lee Jieun needed an introduction—because who wouldn’t know who Lee Jieun?

Lee Jieun, like Yoongi, is a singer-songwriter with a sweetheart reputation, who weaves stories and experiences through her music. But unlike Yoongi, who got his start through Youtube and built himself from the ground up, Lee Jieun signed into a record label at the age of 15. As one could tell, she was that talented. Still is, as a matter of fact. Her albums are continuously winning awards, establishing herself in the charts, connecting with people all over the world. He would know—when Yoongi finally discovered Jieun in the midst of his Youtuber days, it was the catalyst that served as the biggest influence towards the release of his original songs. The fact that they’re both the same age only makes Yoongi even more in awe of her.

Yoongi being able to see Lee Jieun, in the flesh, is a powerful enough sight to leave him speechless.

Lee Jieun sits at the booth, looking all prettied up with her big eyes and red lips. Everything about her seems regal, from the smile she flashes Yoongi to the hand she extends out towards him.

It takes a second for Yoongi to register what he needs to do. Hastily, he steps forward and takes her hand in his. Despite her delicate nature, her handshake is firm as the pair of them move their joined hands up and down once. Honestly, considering their status difference, he feels like a handshake is too casual for them, but he doesn’t speak of it. He just basks in the moment, until he lets go of her hand.

Afterwards, he joins Seokjin in the booth, sliding into his seat.

Jieun smiles brightly at the two of them. “Thank you for going out of your way to come talk to me. I hope I wasn’t disrupting your night.”

Yoongi shakes his head immediately. “Oh, god no. Of course not. I’m just—I’m really honored to see you here. I-I had no idea that you were friends with Seokjin.”

Jieun laughs. “Oh yeah, we go way back—we were actually signed under the same label. Seokjin left to pursue management a few years ago, but we’ve always kept in touch.” She reaches over to take her glass of soda from the table. “He told me when he signed you, you know. He said that you were doing street performances a few cities down?”

Yoongi flushes at that. “Oh yeah—my origin story.”

“I mean, everyone starts from somewhere,” Jieun brushes off, laying down her cup again. “So I’ve honestly been looking out for your name since Seokjin signed you. I heard about your tour, but knew that I wanted to wait until your first full length album just to make sure your reputation was a little more fleshed out before bringing up my idea with Seokjin.”

Yoongi blinks, switching his gaze from Jieun to Seokjin. The latter nods, as if to let him know that Jieun would be the one providing information. So Yoongi turns back to Jieun.

Jieun continues. “Since it seems that we’ve both developed a songwriting, storytelling reputation amongst the music industry, I was hoping that you’d agree to do a collaboration with me. Just one single, both of our names attached to it. It’s been awhile since I worked with another artist, and I’m sure that doing this will only further put your name out there. It could also be a really good learning experience.”

Yoongi almost cannot believe his ears. Lee Jieun wanted to do a collaboration? With him and his inexperienced ass?

Yoongi coughs out in wonder. “Wow.”

Jieun smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, not at all!” Yoongi reassures, but then he backpedals a little. “I mean, it’s not that I was expecting you to ask for a collaboration—I just—!” He cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to calm his nerves. “It’s just, you were a very big reason I even wanted to sing my original songs back when I was street performing. So the fact that you’re asking me to do a song together is honestly so crazy to me.”

Jieun grins. “I’m honored—so are you agreeing to my request?”

Almost on instinct, Yoongi turns to Seokjin. It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t want to do the collab, it’ll probably be the single most greatest thing to happen in his career, but Seokjin was technically his boss and their contract had it so Seokjin usually had to final say in what he believed would be best for him.

And for the briefest flicker of a second, Yoongi’s mind switches to you. More than Seokjin’s approval, he finds himself seeking your praise the most. After all, you know how much he admires Lee Jieun. He wants to share this moment with you.

Instead of jumping up to go find you, he forces himself to stay rooted to his seat. “I-I think I would be the one who feels honored. T-That is, if Seokjin says it’s okay.”

Seokjin holds his arms out. “Of course it’s okay! The collaboration was also partly my idea. Anywho.” He turns back to Jieun. “We’ll have to run through Yoongi’s schedule with his manager just to see when he’s available. But after that, we can get started.”

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s manager, Jieun’s eyes brighten with her smile. “Oh yes, your girlfriend.” She sits a little straighter, trying to seek you out. “She’s here at the event right? I’d really love to meet her, if that’s okay?”

Yoongi nods immediately. “O-Of course!” He also sits up a little straighter, moving about in his seat to try and locate you. He finds you near the bar, seeming to have ditched your hang-out with Jimin, as you take an occasional sip of your drink. “She’s over there.”

With a nod, the three of them move out of the booth and towards the bar, where you’re still slouched over, scrolling through Instagram on your phone. You seem to notice their approaching presence, because you take a quick glance over to acknowledge them, before doing a double take when you realize who else is in Yoongi’s company.

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim, immediately sliding out of your bar stool, your gaze fixated on Jieun.

Seokjin laughs at your starstruck reaction. “Y/N, this is Lee Jieun—but I’m guessing you already knew that?”

You seem to realize your behavior, because your shyness comes back. “I do. Um, hi! It’s really nice to meet you.” You reach over to offer your hand.

Jieun takes it, shaking for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Your gaze immediately flints to Yoongi. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me that you were acquainted with Lee Jieun herself!”

Yoongi waves you off. “Actually, Seokjin is the mutual party.”

Your lips part in shock, as you nod once, twice, in understanding. “Well, uh, in that case, I hope you’re having a good time tonight, Jieun.”

“It’s really a wonderful launch party,” Jieun praises. “But I do admit to having ulterior motives. I actually came by to ask Yoongi if he wanted to work on a collab song with me.”

Your lips part, and Yoongi feels a vague sense of pride swell up in his chest when you turn to look at him, eyes brighter than they have been all night. “Yoongi! That’s so amazing! I hope you agreed.”

“I did, actually,” Yoongi says with the nod of his head. If you notice that he’s puffing his chest out a little as your words go straight to his head, you don’t comment on it. “We’ll definitely have to go over my schedule with you, pick some dates where Jieun and I can have some writing sessions, and then the recording sessions, just to name the big picture stuff that’ll have to get done. But we should all be good to go.”

As Yoongi continues to list everything that’ll need to be done in order to create music together, your gaze shifts between Yoongi and Jieun occasionally, taking in their equal excitement and passion for the long project ahead. It isn’t until the end, when you and Yoongi leave the launch party, after having collected praise and much more from the many friends and connections that have been gained throughout the night, you enter the car wearing an unreadable expression—like you’re pondering something that threatens to break you.

To be frank, you aren’t surprised that Lee Jieun asks Yoongi to collaborate together. Sure, maybe she came a little earlier than you had expected, but you always knew it was a matter of time before the pair of them met. Their reputations are too similar, their personalities too good together; you’re sure that fate would have lined them up at some point.

It just feels like maybe the universe made them a little too perfect for each other—and it’s something that becomes glaringly obvious as a month of songwriting goes by without a hitch. Every few days, Jieun would turn up to KSJ Records, bright-eyed and always looking so, so pretty. Every few days, Jieun and Yoongi would sit next to each other, conversing about the story of their song, both bright-eyed with unbridled affection for what they were writing. And sure, Namjoon would be a part of these songwriting sessions. But that’s not the point.

The point is that as Yoongi gets bigger and success becomes a more natural occurrence in his life, the more people he’s going to meet with whom he shares a common interest and dedication for. People he would probably (most definitely) get along with a lot better than he could get along with you. Friendship is nice and all, but it can’t substitute for the powerful combination of passion, intimacy, and commitment that comes out of romantic companionship.

And you see it in his eyes: the excitement he gets when he’s surrounded with like-minded people. You’re Yoongi’s manager, sure, and one of his best friends, obviously, but there’s only so much you can contribute to conversations about the actual music. Truth be told, when it comes to editing, you just do whatever Yoongi tells you to. And don’t even get you started on the music arrangements—you can’t even lift a candle to what Yoongi himself can do. Or Namjoon. Or especially Lee Jieun.

And although you know that Yoongi means no ill-intention, it feels as if he takes every opportunity to remind you of that fact.

“I mean, she’s amazing.” He’s sighing dreamily over his bulgogi. The pair of you are at a corner booth in a Korean barbeque restaurant, on another fake date Seokjin has prearranged for you. It’s not the first date you’ve been on since Jieun entered the picture, and it’s definitely not the first time Yoongi is bringing her up. And although this isn’t even a real date, and although this isn’t a real relationship, there’s only so much you can take—both as a friend and as someone who is starting to feel the curl of jealousy in your stomach.

Still, you refuse to let the cat out of the bag. So you sigh, picking up your chopsticks and digging into your meat. The only thing you can manage is: “I bet she is.”

But Yoongi doesn’t stop there. “You should have seen her today, she was on fire. Songwriting abilities, obviously. We were stuck on this one part of the song, but then she just swooped in with this perfect one-liner that made my heart drop. Seriously, it was so cool. I don’t know how her mind works, but I want to keep hanging out with her to learn more.”

You almost drop your meat completely into your salt dish, but you recover quickly with a cough. The noise helps cover up the fact that your heart feels the white-hot burn of frustration and confusion. “W-Well, you guys do make a good team. You know, being on the same level talent-wise.”

Yoongi laughs at that, completely oblivious to your state of mind. “Talent-wise? I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere near the level Jieun is at…”

As he trails off, you dare yourself to flicker your gaze up to him, seeing the pink flush that dusts along his cheeks. Interpreting this as shyness for the internal praise and fondness he has for Jieun, you look away and pick up the plate of raw beef brisket to dump into the grill.

Yoongi notices what you’re doing, and immediately reaches over to take the plate from you. “Here, let me do it.”

A part of you wants to fight about it, but you know doing so will just lead you down the path of no man’s land. So you let go, offering the tongs to Yoongi as he takes it to scrap the meat into the grill between the two of you. He takes the silence as an opportunity to further gush about Jieun, and how he can’t wait to work on music arrangements with her, how he’s excited to record the song with her, so on and so forth.

How could you even contribute to a conversation like this? He’s talking to you about a girl in a way that reminds you of your college days—back when the pair of you were strictly friends and nothing more, and he would talk to you about girls he thought were cute. It feels a little bit like right now. Yoongi and Jieun do make a good team, they get along together, and have formed a closeness within such a short period of time that anyone passing by the studio would assume they’ve been friends for years. Or, even further, that they were dating. At the very least, Yoongi speaks highly enough of Jieun that one could assume that she was the one he liked, and not you.

It feels a little bit like being left behind—it’s a thought that only continues to fester.

It takes a few more weeks, but you eventually draft up Yoongi’s tour schedule. It’s a few sheets of paper that detail the duration of the tour, the cities, the locations, the dates of each location, the size of the venue, how ticket distribution will work, on, and on, and on—all information that Yoongi has insisted on knowing about ever since he was signed into KSJ Records. The man just likes to know what his fans have to go through in order to see him, and you respect that.

However, before you can officially create the tour post that’ll be up on the KSJ Records social media account, it needs to go through a final approval: from Yoongi himself. And because he likes to take notes with paper and pen, like the old-fashioned songwriter he is, he’s asked you to print everything out for him.

This is what leads you to stand near the printer in your office, waiting for the last page to print and slide into your awaiting hands. Once all the pages come out, you flip through them to make sure that every city on the tour is accounted for. You turn back to your desk, collecting some magazines that have been stacked on top of your table.

Along with getting the setlist for the tour, Yoongi had also asked you to get a hold of some magazines and articles that provided reviews from his first tour. Something about wanting to read any critiques people might have had for his show.

You gather the small stack as well before sliding it into your bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s surprisingly early for you to be leaving your office, the late afternoon, but there’s a part of you that just wants to give the document stack to Yoongi and dip out for the rest of the night. By now, the doubts of Yoongi’s affection for Jieun has dug itself deeper into your mind and letting yourself be around Yoongi for too long brings up too many questions that cannot be good for your mentality.

Questions like: If he could, would Yoongi prefer to date Jieun for real?

Was Jieun better than you?

And the best one of them all: Were you just holding Yoongi back from better relationships?

You continue to walk down the hallway of the building, your pace a little slower than normal because of the cloudy thoughts that threaten to overtake your mind. Finally, you stop outside of the studio you know Yoongi and Jieun are recording in. You take in a deep breath, forcing your usual cheery personality to shine through as you pull down on the handle and let yourself into the studio.

As soon as you step inside, you almost wish that you had just slid the documents under the door. The sight of that would probably have been easier to process than the one in front of your eyes right now.

Namjoon, as usual at the desk surrounded by music panels and laptops, playing the recently finished music through the recording booth situated on the other side of the glass. Behind this aforementioned sheet of glass are Jieun and Yoongi. With headphones on, they’re standing next to each other behind the microphone. Their shoulders practically touching, you don’t miss the way they both keep sneaking glances at each other, the corner of their lips turning up, looking like they’re having the best time together.

You try not to slam down the door behind you, but your grip on the knob is a little too harsh to call for a softer click. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given how much fun Yoongi and Jieun look like they’re having—wait, did Jieun just touch Yoongi’s arm), neither of them notice your arrival.

Namjoon, however, notices.

He turns around to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?”

You try for a smile, your hand brushing against the door. “Sorry, I slipped a little,” You lie cleanly. You hold up the documents in your other hand. “Yoongi wanted me to prepare a few things for him, stuff for the upcoming tour.”

Namjoon gestures for you to sit next to him, something that you follow. As soon as you sit down, Namjoon asks to see these aforementioned documents, which you pull out of your bag and hand over to him. It’s quiet between the two of you, the only sounds being the laughs and giggles between Yoongi and Jieun—as if one has them as just told a secret only understood between them. It’s a feeling that doesn’t settle well in your stomach.

“Wow, this is very efficient,” Namjoon observes, seeming completely oblivious to your internal seething.

You shrug, eyes still locked in on the inside of the recording booth. “Yoongi asked for the best, so I gave him the best. Hey, so—!” You change topics. “Is there a reason they’re in the booth together? Don’t a lot of collabs nowadays just exchange everything virtually?”

Namjoon hums. “I didn’t know the jealous girlfriend was a full time act of yours now.” He’s clearly just trying to have fun. After all, only Taehyung and Jungkook know about your crush on Yoongi. “But honestly? I’m not too sure. They just wanted to go in together—said that they could be more personal when working in a face-to-face setting. And they’re actually making a lot of changes as they keep going through the song and hearing how the music is turning out. They’re a good team.”

Namjoon’s usage of the very same phrase that has been haunting you for the past few weeks doesn’t sit well in your stomach.

Namjoon returns the documents to you. “Did you want to talk to him now? See if he’s cool with you just dropping it off?”

You nod. “If that’s okay?”

Namjoon smiles. “We’ll just wait until they take a breath.”

Waiting doesn’t turn out to take a long time, because Jieun stops the song to make another statement about what line should replace the one they just sung. And Yoongi looks at her like she’s just hung up all the stars in the galaxy.

“Namjoon, do you mind starting the song over? We got a new idea for this part,” Jieun calls from inside the booth.

Namjoon leans forward to press the button. “Actually, you guys have some company.”

You lean forward as well. “Hey guys.”

Jieun grins, waving at you through the window. Yoongi acknowledges you as well, but there’s something suddenly stiff about his movements. You notice that he’s also stepping away from Jieun, as if to hide what has been going on between him and Jieun. As if that makes you feel any fucking better.

“Hey, uh, Yoongi?” You continue. “I have the documents you asked me to prepare for you. I can just leave it here for you to go over if that’s cool. Maybe take a little bit of time today to go over everything.”

Yoongi thinks about this for a moment. “Actually… honey,” He adds the pet name as an afterthought. “Do you mind dropping it off at my apartment? We’re probably just gonna be focusing on the song until pretty late tonight.”

The acknowledgement Yoongi has that he and Jieun are in for another late night only grows the seeds of doubt in your mind, as you clench your teeth. You can’t let your insecurities get the best of you. Not now. “Sure,” You manage, trying for a small.

Yoongi grins. “Thanks baby. I’ll make it up to you this weekend, okay?”

At this point, it just feels like he’s teasing you and it’s something you find you aren’t really in the mood for. So you manage a curt reply, giving a positive response that you’ll drop by his apartment to deliver the documents regarding his upcoming tour, before you’re up and out of the studio before Jieun, Yoongi, or Namjoon can say one last thing. But you don’t care. The sooner you’re out of there, looking at the heart-eye festival between Jieun and Yoongi, the better you feel.

So you take the train to Yoongi’s apartment, a now much bigger space in a slightly nicer area of the city. At least, nicer than the college apartment he shared with Jungkook that was no stranger to bed bugs and constant maintenance issues. The newer apartment Yoongi has recently acquired is nicer, has more modern finishes, and is now a space he fills in all by himself.

As you unlock the door to his apartment, you immediately make your way down the small hallway entrance, where a mirror and his shoes occupy a small corner of the area. The hallway opens up into the living room, and you turn on the light and take in the vaguely familiar sight of his new furniture—home pieces that you helped arrange with him a few months ago. Come to think of it, that was probably the first and last time you had come by Yoongi’s apartment. Before certain life elements got involved.

Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you plop yourself down on the couch and place the document stack at the corner of the coffee table. It looks rather strange just stacked like that, no context provided, so your eyes shift over for a pen and a post-it note.

You find a stack of post-it notes, and find a pen sticking out from inside a notebook. Paying little attention to the notebook, you just make a grab for the pen and rip it out of the notebook with the aggression of a gorilla. The notebook flies open, the contents inside barring itself right at you.

Your immediate reaction is to close the notebook. After all, it just takes one glance at Yoongi’s scrambled handwriting to know that this is one of his writing journals. His most recent one, in fact, judging from how flat the pages after the one currently open appear—like it hasn’t been stained with a pen yet.

You want to close it—you really do. You and Yoongi have built a friendship on trust. That’s what kept you both together throughout the long years, and you know better than to risk everything just for the chance to scope through what is essentially a songwriter’s diary.

Your fingers inch towards the edge of the book, about to close it shut, before the title at the top header makes you freeze.

MY SECRET

Without meaning to, your eyes read over the lines. And you feel sick to your stomach.

The song is so raw, so personal, brimming with desire in every verse. It covers lingering stares, secret smiles. A barrier. How Yoongi “wants you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you”. And you know Yoongi—you know him better than anyone. You know that for all the love songs he sings and the topics he sings about that he feigns ignorance for, he draws on personal experience to write his music. How else could he make everything so personable?

How could this song not be about Jieun?

The lingering stares, secret smiles: it clearly points to the events in the recording booth you saw earlier that day, and if he’s writing a song about it, it’s obvious that today hadn’t been the first time for those stares and smiles.

The barrier: obviously you. The relationship facade he’s forced to put up with you, when he’s clearly so much happier with someone else.

With those factors, it’s so clear that Yoongi would want Jieun, but would be unable to have her.

And you’re just the girl in the background with the starry eyes for a guy who would never even look at you the way you want him to.

That realization brings the hot tears to your eyes, as you slam the notebook shut and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your finger to muffle your sobs. What comes out is the build-up of months of insecurities, of having to keep the biggest secret of your life to yourself, and the additional jealousy brought in by a third party.

This despair and sadness isn’t good for you, and you know that only continuing to hide it away in light of Yoongi and Jieun’s partnership, in light of your feelings, and Yoongi’s exploding career—you should only be able to handle so much. You’re a human being, and you have your limits.

And you think this might be it.

CHAPTER 6: TRUTHS

“Y-Yeah, I think it’s food poisoning or something,” You speak quietly into the phone, playing with the edges of your blanket. “I’m really sorry, Seokjin, I’ll try to send out some emails to respond to news outlets today…”

“Hey, no, you’re totally fine,” Seokjin replies hastily. “I don’t blame you for that. Just try and get some rest today, and update me on how you feel tomorrow.” A pause. “What was it?”

“Uh, it must have been in the takeout I got last night.” That’s a lie. You cooked your own dinner last night, and are lying straight through your teeth regarding your condition, but you can’t find it in yourself to go to work today. Not since the discovery of Yoongi’s crush on Jieun made you want to dig yourself into a hole and never crawl out.

It’s not like you ever thought you had a chance with Yoongi—but you had just thought maybe something would be different after the hand holding, after his radio interview, after your kiss together.

But Jieun serves as that nice splash of reality that Yoongi wants someone better than you. Someone more like him—someone passionate about music, who gets along with him better, who can write music with and write music about.

At this point, it just feels like you’re a weight, dragging Yoongi down in the waves of his past.

On the other side of the phone, Seokjin sighs. “Damn, that’s always the worst. Those are the ones you suspect the least. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Get some rest. Maybe I’ll let Yoongi know so he can bring some soup.”

The mention of Yoongi makes you feel like you could actually get food poisoning. “You can let him know, but he’ll probably be too hung up on Jieun to give a shit.”

Seokjin, of course, knows nothing, so he laughs at what he thinks is your joke. “That’s true. They’re actually at it again today, which is surprising considering Jieun only comes by a few times a week. But no, she was here bright and early and so was Yoongi. Basically, they showed up to the studio at the same time. They called it fate, or some shit like that.”

“You don’t say,” You return dryly.

Namjoon’s confirmation that they make a good team, paired with Seokjin’s admittance that Yoongi is hung up on Jieun, puts you in a delicate mood for the rest of the day. You try to watch some TV shows, some movies, play some video games, but you are constantly distracted by thoughts of Yoongi and Jieun.

You’re all curled up on the couch, about to click into another movie, when there’s a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat as you stand up. You hate the brief flicker of hope in your chest, the curiosity that perhaps Yoongi is the one knocking.

All those hopes are dashed when you see it is Jungkook on the other side of the door.

“Oh,” You remark, the smile dropping from your face. “It’s just you.”

Jungkook looks at you like you pissed in his cereal. “Uh, I don’t see other amazing friends over here bringing you store-bought chicken soup because they heard you got food poisoning last night.” He holds up the bag for extra emphasis.

You roll your eyes, grabbing the bag from him. “I don’t actually have food poisoning, I just didn’t want to go to work today.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your statement. There’s a lot you’ve given him that he can work with, lots of things he can ask about. Maybe ask why you would lie about your food poisoning, maybe ask why you didn’t want to go to work today, maybe ask why you still looked like shit.

But the first thing he says: “You owe me twenty dollars.”

You roll your eyes, beckoning him inside with the jerk of your head. “Sure.”

Jungkook laughs a little. “Wait, okay, I was actually kidding.” But he still steps into your apartment. “I’ll be serious now. Why lie about food poisoning? And since when do you not want to go to work? If anything, you love to go so you can stare at Yoongi’s ass through the recording booth—!” He cuts himself off when you give him a glare of such pure hatred that it actually shocks him. “Wait, are you mad at Yoongi?”

You tear your gaze away from him, placing the bag of groceries on your countertop. Sorting through what Jungkook has bought serves to be a good distraction.

Jungkook continues to look at you. He’s quiet, but he always has a lot to say, and since you’ve been his friend for so long that only heightens his need to talk. “I knew it!” He finally says. “I knew you were mad at him. Taehyung and I were placing bets down.”

You slam the can of chicken soup on the counter. “HEY. What did I say about gossiping?”

“Not in front of your face?”

Your hand flinches, as if to stop yourself from grabbing the can and throwing it at his stupid face. Jungkook doesn’t even move in fear, the bastard. “I’m just gonna pretend I don’t know about the bets. You want a can of chicken soup?”

Jungkook confirmation finds you at the stove, heating up two of the many cans Jungkook had bought for you. Included in his twenty-dollar purchase had been a few containers of tums, and some orange juice.

Jungkook lingers in the back. “You wanna tell me why you’re mad at Yoongi?”

You whirl around to face him. “How did you even know I was upset?”

Jungkook snorts, but quiets down when you glare at him. He coughs. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know. You’ve been acting weird ever since Jieun started coming by the studio.”

“Weird how?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just a little quieter. And you haven’t been spending as much time in the studio as you used to. That was the biggest giveaway.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You rub at your cheek. “Does Yoongi know?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Doubtful. But I think he knows something is up. I was on the phone with him last night.”

It’s your turn to snort. “Okay, that’s really fucking funny.” At Jungkook’s raised eyebrow, you explain. “I thought he’d be too busy comparing Jieun to sunlight, or something, to notice me.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous.”

You and Jungkook have a staring contest, before you sigh. “I accidentally saw Yoongi’s writing notebook yesterday. It had all these love confessions in it, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about Jieun.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No way? Are you sure?”

You cough. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent. But it was all about this forbidden crush he couldn’t act on because of a barrier. Who else could be the barrier? He obviously thinks I’m holding him back from pursuing a relationship with Jieun.” You think about your words for a second, trying to decide if Jungkook is trustworthy enough to disclose this information to. “I think I’m gonna break it off with him. Maybe quit too, while I’m at it.”

Jungkook’s lips part. “But why?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” You cry. “I can’t keep up this fake dating with Yoongi anymore, it’s too complicated, and I’m actually in love with him so that opens up this whole other series of complications. And it’s not fair to Yoongi—he shouldn’t have to deal with feelings he obviously doesn’t return. The whole charade thing just isn’t doing me any good. And even if I break off the relationship, I would still have to see him all the time because of the whole manager situation. Quitting just seems like the best option for me.”

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “How do you even know he wrote that song about Jieun?” He finally asks, speaking carefully.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling. Who else has he been spending all this time with? Who else could that song possibly be about?”

Jungkook gives you a long, hard look, like he almost can’t believe your brain can be thinking those thoughts. But he relents. “I think you should talk to Yoongi before quitting. He’s one of your best friends. He deserves to know why, at least.” He looks over your shoulder. “The chicken soup is done.”

You whirl back around to turn off the stove. But also so Jungkook can’t see the tears glassing over your eyes.

It turns out, telling Yoongi you want to quit is a much more difficult task than you could have thought. For starters, Seokjin sets the pair of you up on more dates than before. Apparently, there are some rumors going around regarding Jieun’s more and more frequent turn-ups at KSJ Records, and people have started connecting the dots that her appearances are tied to either one of two reasons. Either Yoongi and Jieun are collaborating on music. Or they’re dating.

The second reason is a lot juicier, much more exciting, so naturally a lot of people have gravitated towards supporting that reason. To try and expel those thoughts, Seokjin sends you out on more dates with Yoongi. It’s all fine, but your thoughts about breaking off this relationship and quitting just makes you more quiet and closed off as you wallow deeper into your thoughts.

You suddenly don’t know how to contribute to the conversations Yoongi tries to bring up to you. The words seem to fail you every time, and you feel yourself constantly resorting to silence or one-worded answers. And it constantly always feels like Yoongi is standing too close to you. Every step towards you is a step away from him. When he tries to hold your hand on the sixth date in two weeks, you wiggle out of his grasp and pretend that you need to fix your jacket.

Your own journey to self-destruction means that you are completely oblivious to the hurt in Yoongi’s eyes with every step you take to distance yourself from him. But what could you even say to him?

How could you tell him you want to quit your job in public? That would obviously lead to a fight, and it would reflect badly on Yoongi’s public image. Just because you want to quit doesn’t mean you still care about him, because you do. And you still want him to succeed. With Seokjin’s constant scheduling of dates, it leaves little room for you to share in an actual private discussion. The only off times Yoongi has are the days Jieun comes by the studio, and you try to stay a mile away from that place now.

But it turns out, you don’t have a choice today, because Seokjin calls you into his office and tells you to drop off the samples of cover art that has just been dropped off at the studio. The cover art is something that Jieun and Yoongi have designed together for the album, to be displayed when the single is released.

With heavy feet, you make your way through the hallways and towards Yoongi’s studio space. Every fiber in your being hopes that Yoongi and Jieun will be in the recording booth, working on their song (or even better, just not in the studio at all), so that you don’t have to face them enjoying each other’s company right in front of your face. There’s no music coming through the door, so your heart soars that latter prospect.

As you open the door, however, you realize that there’s no way for you to be so lucky.

Inside, Yoongi and Jieun are eating lunch, takeout noodles split between the two of them, and they’re in the middle of laughing. The laughter, however, stops when you open the door, effectively interrupting their fucking date. Which is a thought that does nothing to make you feel better. The silence that echoes on only further makes you feel like shit.

You and Yoongi sharing a room privately nowadays is a rarity, since you’ve been doing a good job at avoiding him at all costs. His unanswered text messages and shortened calls echo through your mind at the sight of him. With the look he’s giving you, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

Jieun, however, remains completely oblivious to the situation as she gives you her normally bright cheery greeting. You stare at you, momentarily stunned. You would have thought Yoongi shared the troubles of your relationship with her, for some reason. You try to remain nice about it, though, giving Jieun a small smile as you return her greeting.

“I, uh,” You start, bringing the package up for both of them to see. “Your cover art came in today. Seokjin just asked if I could drop it off here.”

Jieun brightens at the sight. “Oh my gosh, it came! Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, hands reaching out to take the package from you. You give it to her. “Yoongi, isn’t that so exciting?”

“Yeah…” Yoongi trails off. A quick glance at him tells you that he’s staring at you. You look away. “Did you see it yet?” He asks you.

You shrug. “I, uh, haven’t. But, anyways, I have to get going.”

“Hey,” Jieun calls, freezing you slightly in your path. “Thanks for bringing this over. We really appreciate it.”

We?

The use of that specific noun, while supposedly harmless in the current context, makes your stomach flare with that white hot curl of jealousy. Your teeth clench, as you swallow down the spiteful words that almost manage to escape into the air around you. You smile, no teeth. “You’re welcome.” That’s the only thing you can manage before you’re turning around to open the door and practically bolt yourself out of the studio.

You only make it a few feet before the door to the studio opens and you hear footsteps trailing after you. He calls your name, and your heart drops. You are so not ready for any type of one-on-one conversation with Yoongi right now.

But your entire soul still gravitates toward him, so you stop and turn around to face him.

Yoongi is by himself this time, and looking like a mixture of confused and defeated as he approaches you. “Listen,” He starts. “I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to really talk…”

“It’s okay,” You brush off.

Yoongi says your name again. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me. You’re my best friend—I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.”

You sigh, shaking your head as every nerve in your body is telling you to walk away. “Yoongi, I’m not sure I can do this right now.”

“Do what?” He presses. “I know that I’ve been super busy, but if you want to talk you can just let me know. Tell me what’s bothering you, okay? Because I…” He trails off, sighing, and you feel that vague sense of guilt wash over you. “I can tell that you’re avoiding me and it’s really shitty. I can’t even focus that much on my song with Jieun.”

The mention of Jieun stiffens you up again. “Well, sorry for being an inconvenience,” You spit. “Why don’t you go back to your new fucking girlfriend if you’re gonna bring her up to my face again.” You couldn’t stop yourself this time—the words were too ready at your lips. Your chest is heaving from it too, but it is things that you know that you will regret saying.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow deeper together as your words.

You stare right back at him, the shadow of a thought passing over you. If you’re going to tell Yoongi your biggest secret, it might as well be right now. You don’t know the next time you will be this brave, this reactive, this bold.

Both of you open your mouths at the same time.

“Did you just call Jieun my girlfriend?”

“I’m quitting.”

You clamp your mouth shut. You hadn’t meant to speak at the same time as him. A small wave of regret passes through you, as you hope that Yoongi wouldn’t have heard your statement over his question. But of course he does.

Yoongi’s frowns at you. “Did you just say you were quitting?”

You take a step back, running a hand through your hair as your exhale comes out shaky. More shaky than you intended it to. Oh no. “Yeah,” You manage, already feeling your emotions bottling up. “I was gonna try and talk to Seokjin about quitting before I left.”

If Yoongi thinks you were joking before, he definitely doesn’t now because he takes a step towards you and catches your wrist before you can go that far. “B-But why?” His eyes have gotten a little wider, and he’s staring at you like his world is being pulled apart.

You try to tug your wrist away to no avail. Your mind tries to flash through several different excuses, but you realize that you need to tell him the truth. Yoongi deserves that much, at least.

As you try to collect your thoughts, Yoongi starts scrambling. “W-Was it something I did?” He asks quickly. “Because normally you’d always try to call me out and I’d fix myself immediately. A-Are you unhappy with your position? Because I can try to get Seokjin to give you less workload or something. I-I’m really sorry if it was something that I did to hurt you. I-I just really need you here so talk to me… please…”

You shake your head. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” You whisper. “I know your secret, Yoongi, and that’s why I can’t do this anymore.”

“W-What secret?” His eyes are still on you.

You take in another breath. “I went over to your apartment that night,” You start. “And I saw what you were writing in your journal. I know that you’re in love with Jieun, and that you only see me as a barrier to pursuing a relationship with her. And that sucks because normally, I’d encourage you to go after her. But we’re doing this whole dating thing, and I feel like I’m neck-deep because…” Your words come out a little more shaky. “Because I’m in love with you,” You whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for years. B-But I know now that I’ll never measure up to Jieun, or any of the other girls in this industry who deserve you more than I do. I thought that I could keep being professional for you and your career. But it’s too hard for me.”

“W-Wait,” Yoongi says, tightening his grip on you. “Can you just let me explain, please? It’s not like that, I promise you.”

You rip your wrist from his hand. “I read it!” You retort loudly. “Who else could be the person you want more than anything, but can’t have because of a physical barrier? When else have you used a real person to inspire your music? It’s too hard for me, Yoongi! I can’t keep doing this!”

Yoongi seems to be struggling with his next words. “So, what?” Yoongi asks, circling around his next question carefully. “You’re just going to leave? Is this… the end of our friendship?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought this out that far. But I know that we shouldn’t be doing this fake dating charade anymore, because I know there’s no way these past few months have meant the same to you as it did to me. I also know that I can’t really be in the same room with you right now.”

Yoongi hopelessly gazes over at you, his own chest heaving as he himself struggles with what to say. “Please don’t do this,” He returns softly.

Your gaze lingers on Yoongi’s for just a while longer, trying to burn the image of him in your mind, before you shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

As it turns out, Seokjin is out of the office for the rest of the evening. Which is fine, right? Whatever. You can just call him tomorrow morning and schedule a meeting with him, tell him the urgency of it and will definitely be able to muster your strength for another conversation about your secret feelings for Yoongi.

You return to your apartment and immediately burst into tears as the weight of today’s confrontation sinks its teeth right into your neck. You just shared your feelings with Yoongi, you threatened your employment, and almost cut off your friendship with Yoongi as a result of that.

Your many years of friendship, of late nights, of laughter together. It seems silly to want to cut off an important friendship just like that—but it just seems unfair of you to carry on with a friendship where you’re always going to crave more. And if Yoongi is smart, he’ll know that as well, and he won’t come back.

Still, a part of you just hopes a little. Even though, of course, it’s a stupid thing to hope for. Yoongi has already established his taste, and it’s definitely for people leagues above you. The thought only makes you cry a little harder, so much so that you try to drink some water in order to calm down.

You’re in the beginning stages of patting down your face, of grabbing some spoons to put into the freezer, when there’s a series of frantic knocking at your door. You turn your head towards the source of the noise, trying to figure out who could be visiting at a time like this. It’s been a few hours since your confrontation with Yoongi at the studio, but you assume that he’s probably blowing smoke up Jieun’s ass. There’s no way that it could be him.

So you open the door, and freeze when you realize that it is Yoongi.

More than that, it’s Yoongi with his chest heaving. Almost like he has just run around the entire city to reach you.

The only thing you can manage right now is a wide-eyed stare.

Yoongi stares right back at you. Just a few hours ago, he had looked so helpless and lost for words. A first, actually. But this time, he’s staring at you with so much intensity that you cannot look away.

Yoongi finally seems to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot,” He states.

You’re so caught off guard by that statement that you forget you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I’m sorry?” You ask.

Yoongi huffs, practically barreling past you to step into your house. You try to tell him to stop, but he’s distracted by rummaging through his backpack for something. With a sigh, you decide to close the door. As soon as he’s standing in your kitchen, he finds an old, beaten up notebook that you vaguely remember from his college days. He points at you with his notebook. “You’re an idiot,” He repeats. “If you think that the lyrics on my coffee table are the first time I’ve written lyrics about a specific person.”

At your shocked expression, he immediately starts flipping through the notebook. You notice that certain pages are marked with sticky tabs.

Yoongi settles on a page and clears his throat. “Hidden within the walls of our lecture hall, your laughter curls through the cracks like liquid fire. You light up my day amongst borrowed pencils and shared jokes. I knew that you were going to change my life,” he reads. He looks up at you. “The first day I met you, when I asked you to borrow a pencil.” You remember those lyrics. It was from a song he had written called ‘starlight’—the opening song on his first EP.

He flips through a few more pages. “I never learned about love, but I watch her believe in my dreams, take the same steps to join my team, and I feel like I could figure it out.” He looks at you. “When you agreed to help me with my Youtube channel.”

He continues through his notebooks of lyrics, of stories, of secrets. Every single lyric he reads to you connects back to some memory he holds of the two of you. All the memories together in college: from the panic attack he had in the bathroom of the first party the pair of you attended, to exploring the nearby cities via subway until early mornings, to corner ramen shops.

Soon enough, he moves on to the lyrics he had written during his first tour. The distance he felt, and how that related to the emotional distance he felt with you—that desire he constantly felt for more, and how the manager and artist relationship the pair of you had couldn’t hold a candle to the friendship you once held. The distance was never a physical challenge, and that was something you could never connect the dots on.

Every stone of his hidden affection is turned over, every lyric he has marked read over and explained with such a passion. It’s like he has waited years to finally have his turn, to finally speak the way he’s always wanted to—directly, with no tricks of music and whimsical arrangements to make you doubt everything he could say.

He had written whole songs about the fake dating experience, of how he wasn’t sure he could only pretend to love you when it was the only thing he ever knew how to do.

Finally, he flips to his most recent song. The very song that you had stumbled upon the other day in his apartment. “I want you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you,” He reads. He looks up at you. “The barrier was the blanket of our fake relationship. You were never stopping me from doing anything, because you were the only thing I have ever wanted. So…” He gestures to all the notebooks that he has laid out across your kitchen counter. “Do you now see how many song lyrics are actually about you? All about you. Because you’re all I’ve always known.”

Your gaze carefully studies each notebook, layered over each other, overflowing with dedication and passion. The privacy of someone who has surprisingly spent his entire singing career sharing nothing but his darkest secrets. Your arms are overlapped with each other, tightening against your form. “I-I had no idea.”

Yoongi shakes his head, but when he looks at you, his eyes are soft. “I figured that.” He’s leaning across the counter to keep his gaze leveled with you, but he pushes himself even closer to tap a finger on the spot between your eyes. “I thought I made it so obvious. You were never listening.”

“I-I never thought to,” You admit softly. But Yoongi has a point. Ever since he started writing and sharing his original songs, he has done nothing but sing them to you in any and all forms. From the private sessions the pair of you shared in his college apartment, to the performances he would deliver on the street, in the recording booth at all hours of the day, to the tours and the audiences that sing those love declarations right back at you. For years, Yoongi has done nothing but give, and give, and give. And you had no idea.

Your breath hitches, and Yoongi rounds the counter and gathers your face in his hands. “Shh,” He coos softly. “It’s not your fault.”

You sniff. “It is my fault! I’m such a stupid bitch. And I treated you and Jieun like shit because I thought you were in love with her. I thought I was holding you back from being able to date who you really wanted to be with.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, technically, you were.” At your look, he hastily goes to explain himself. “The person I really wanted to date was you. But since we were, uh, fake dating, that prevented me from being able to date you for real…”

You groan at his teasing grin. “You idiot, that was so bad.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi is still grinning though, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes follow the movement, mentally outlining you into his mind. “I just wanted to see you smile.” His smile slips a little. “Since you had been ignoring me for so long.”

You pout. “I told you, I thought you were in love with Jieun. And honestly, that would make a lot of sense… she’s really pretty and talented and you guys could talk about music for hours, especially compared to me—!”

“Stop,” Yoongi cuts in, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m gonna stop you there before you say something I don’t like.” He angles his head to level his gaze with you. “Jieun is really cool, I’ll probably be the first one to admit that. But she’s not you. Hey, c’mon, look at me.” He forces you to look at him again. “You are also so, so pretty and smart and talented. You may not know a lot about music and songwriting, but you were always the one who pulled all-nighters with me to edit my videos, or learn music with me, or point out if something in my music didn’t sound right. Your passion to help is something I really love about you.”

You pursue your lips to hide your smile. “Love, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitant. “Well, yeah, because I’m in love with you. I thought that was obvious.”

You exhale. “Yeah, well, it’s different hearing you say it outloud.”

Yoongi grins. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. I have many years to make it up to you.” His smile dies down a little. “I’m sorry,” He finally settles with. “I should have been more straightforward and honest with you about my feelings. You must have been suffering for so long, having to keep it all in and everything.”

You shake your head. “I’m also sorry,” You whisper. “For jumping to conclusions so fast. And also not really listening to your lyrics. That was kind of stupid of me, considering I’m your manager and everything.”

Yoongi laughs. “It seems like you’re good now, seeing as you’ve just gotten an exclusive behind-the-scenes artist cut and commentary about his songs.” He pauses for a second. “So, I hope this means that you won’t quit being my manager. And that, maybe, we can promote our relationship from fake dates to real ones.”

You smile. “I’d like that.”

His smile turns softer. “And I was hoping that maybe I can kiss you again. For real, this time. No cameras, no Seokjin breathing down our necks.”

You giggle. “Just so you know, if the kiss at your album release party had been a real one and we were actually dating at the time, I probably would have wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom or something.”

Yoongi groans. “Don’t say that with that cute smile on your face. Makes me want to do things to you.”

“I don’t see you pulling away though.”

“Of course not.” Yoongi’s figure loams over you now, his lips brushing against yours. “I have three years to make up to you.”

With that, he kisses you, silencing whatever next words you were going to say. That is, if you even had any to begin with. Now that he’s kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs, you’re not even too sure any thoughts have been floating around at all. Unlike the kiss at the album release party, which had been softer and dainty, held back to hide a secret, this kiss is rougher. Yoongi is already moving his lips against yours, already parting his lips to brush his tongue against your lower lips. His hands are already sliding across the counter, trying to cover you more and more.

His hand slips on the counter though, almost sending his sprawling on top of you. You catch him with your hand on his chest, as the sudden action makes both of you pull away from each other. The sight you both face is very much like the sight from the launch party: flushed cheeks and redden lips, a desire for more flickering behind eyes.

But this time, there is no expectation to carry on in a party like a long-term couple. That is what allows Yoongi to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to his chest this time. He kisses you again, slower, softer, but you deepen the kiss with the part of your own lips this time. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you as he lifts you into his arms and blindly navigates through your apartment, into your bedroom, where you both fall atop the mattress.

“And just for the record,” You whisper, right when Yoongi pulls away to let both of you catch your breath. “I love you too.” You’ve already admitted your feelings earlier in the day, but it’s worth it to see Yoongi deliver that heart pounding gummy smile.

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