#there's a specific plot line that requires them to be fem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

irisintheafterglow · 3 months ago

Text

love me from your point of view

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: ariana grande - "pov"

summary: you teach sakusa kiyoomi how to love, in spite of the cameras and the gossip.

wc: 8.45k

cw/tags: pro!sakusa x rockstar!reader, fem!reader in mind but no specific pronouns used, strangers to lovers, character study, explicit language, minor injury (blood/glass tw), mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst with happy ending <3

note: this is my contribution for the lovely sel's "and there's something, this feeling" collab to celebrate one year of @seiwas ! this is the longest fic i've written to date because i tried my best to go a character-driven route that i've always admired sel for rather than my usual plot-driven route. i hope you like this and happiest of anniversaries my wonderful sel :))))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :) check out the rest of sel's event here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi hated cameras. Unfortunately, in his line of work, they were essentially gnats buzzing constantly around his head. They were always trying to make him do something, look here or there, pose with his shoulders angling this way or that. After the commands came the interrogations, nosy reporters sniffing around his private life for something sellable. Then there were the phone cameras and the fans behind them, and they could be a hit or miss depending on if they respected his boundaries. When he was in highschool, he could get away with avoiding socialization; but now, as a striker for one of the most famous teams in the country, socialization was a required skill.

“I’m happy you agreed to go with us, Sakusa,” Bokuto says for the fifth time since they parked at the venue in the heart of Tokyo. It was a little irritating, the way they kept thanking him for his presence like he’d back out if they didn’t continue expressing their gratitude. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to; Atsumu insisted on being the one behind the wheel and the car narrowly avoided a collision after Hinata said he’d missed the exit. “We know you’re still a little grumpy because of the drive, so don’t feel the need to talk to us right now.”

“Hey, if you wanted to leave so badly, you could just call a car,” Atsumu points out, “but I know you secretly like spending time with us.” Sakusa fixes his teammate with a stare that could be perceived as a grimace, but his friends know him better than that. Sakusa wasn’t angry, he was bored. It was originally Bokuto and Hinata’s idea to see some artist he didn’t listen to in concert, saying that it was ‘a once in a lifetime experience’ and that the artist hadn’t played in the country in over a decade. He was vaguely aware of some songs, mostly because his teammates cranked the speaker volume during conditioning. Still, it wasn’t his ideal Saturday night, especially before a big game. “And, guess what?”

“Holy shit, box seats!”

“We have our own bathroom!” Bokuto and Hinata’s shouts of excitement drown out the rest of Atsumu’s sentence and the security guards are barely able to open the doors as they tumble into the private section.

“Yo, Shoyo. Be careful of that railing or you’ll fall into the general audience,” Atsumu warns while Hinata willfully ignores him, staring out over the crowds slowly filing into their seats. “Pretty cool, ain’t it?” Sakusa nods once, approaching the balcony and then deciding against it when he catches the telltale flash of a phone camera. Like clockwork, he and the other Jackals would be on every update page within ten minutes. A small object appears from behind the balcony wall, floating upwards in a thin arc before falling back to the seats below.

“The hell are they doing?”

“Sakusa, fans are trying to give us bracelets,” Bokuto beams, holding up his forearm halfway-covered in colorful beads. “Apparently it’s a tradition with this artist.”

“I don’t like gifts,” Sakusa deadpans, his mouth taut in a frown. “Tell them I can’t take it.”

“Too late,” Atsumu says, snagging a vibrant purple bracelet as it’s tossed upwards. He looks down at the eager fans below and claps, gesturing for them to throw more. “We’re already taking ‘em, so they’re gonna wonder why you’re not taking them too.”

“If they’re real fans, they’ll know I don’t like gifts,” he counters with narrowed eyes.

“C’mon, Sakusa. Take one, at least,” Hinata says. His shorter teammate carefully pulls one off and slides it onto his wrist. The pattern alternates between yellow and lime green beads, with letter beads in the center spelling ‘NOKMLYDANOEW.’ It looked like Bokuto and Akaashi’s cat stepped on their computer keyboard. “The letters are an acronym for a song, I think. It’s an inside thing with the artist,” Hinata explains, leaning his bracelet-covered arms against the railing and waving to excited fans.

“I’m gonna see if they have time to meet us backstage. The fans’ll go berserk.” Bokuto’s words make Sakusa’s eye twitch involuntarily. Staying longer than expected of him was a surefire way to make him irritated and they knew that.

“Yeah, they’re not the only ones who will benefit from a little meet and greet,” Atsumu whispers cryptically and it’s impossible not to see the way he looks Sakusa up and down.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it, man,” Bokuto reassures him with a pat on the back, but he doesn’t budge.

“No, I’m interested. What’re you on about, Miya?”

“Trust us, it’s nothing!”

“Just grab a soju and relax, Sakusa–”

“They’re trying to set you up with the artist!” Sakusa flinches, turning slowly to his teammates that shrink away like vampires in direct sunlight. Hinata looks mortified, his hands slapped over his mouth as if to seal off what was already revealed. Atsumu and Bokuto shrug, giving him guilty smiles and showing their palms to convey their surrender. “That’s…that’s what they were talking about before we picked you up,” Hinata continues sheepishly.

“This whole thing is a blind date?” He seethes through gritted teeth, the lights of the stadium starting to give him a migraine. “You guys brought me here to set me up?”

“All we’re trying to do is have you meet someone new,” Atsumu says gently, stepping forward and then abruptly backward when Sakusa looks like he’s about to commit a homicide. “We think it’ll be good for you.”

“I don’t care about new people. I have work and you idiots to keep me busy,” Sakusa argues, crossing his arms over his chest. The beads on his arm press into his skin and he fights the urge to rip the entire thing off. “Why would I wanna meet some musician I don’t listen to?”

“Even if you don’t listen to their music,” Bokuto replies without hesitation, “You should read through their lyrics sometime; I think you’ll find a lot of stuff you can relate to. I bet they get just as much bad publicity as we do.”

“As if,” he scoffs. “I don’t need someone with a purple guitar telling me what I think.”

—

“You said there were volleyball guys in attendance, right? If they’re still here, I should probably meet them,” you say to your publicist as you step out from the automatic riser that brought you below the stage following the last song of the show. The sound of your platform boots echo on the linoleum in the back halls of the stadium, your exit music faintly audible from above. “Who are they?”

“There’s four in total, along with some managers and press. They’re on a team called the MSBY Jackals, with an outstanding record in the sport. From what I’ve seen, three of them are pretty nice.” The two of you, along with a handful of security guards, climb into a waiting golf cart.

“And the other one?”

“Toss-up. He might not even talk to you.” You take a sip from your water bottle and briefly glance at the photo your publicist has pulled up on her phone. You can guess which one is the quiet one from his face in the photo alone, staring blankly at the camera while his other teammates smile brightly.

“He looks like he’d kill me in my sleep,” you observe bluntly. “The type of serial killer people make fan accounts about.”

“In his defense, I don’t think this is his type of crowd,” she shrugs, her attention flicking to the way you stretch your legs in the seat of the small vehicle. “Sore?”

“Beyond belief,” you chuckle, wincing as a small stab of pain shoots through your calf. “I think I might need a little more padding on the soles, if possible. Chunky heels, in all their wonder, were not made for three hour shows.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You focus on turning back on for the players.”

After a few more minutes of sipping water and stretching out your legs in the backseat of the golf cart, you pull up to the loading dock where the four athletes are waiting. Two of them, one with iced tips and the other with vibrantly orange hair, practically jump in place when you arrive. The grumpy one lingers at the back of the group; the blonde player extends his hand to you as you step out.

“Thank you so much.” You greet them with a practiced smile and hope your exhaustion isn’t too visible. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I couldn’t stop screaming the entire time and I think my voice is shot.”

“You are incredibly talented.”

“It was wonderful!”

“Oh, I’m so glad. It’s such a pleasure to meet you all,” you say warmly, truly wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for 24 hours straight. Even when his friends chatter your ear off, the curly-haired one at the back doesn’t say anything. The short one with orange hair and the widest smile introduces himself as Hinata Shoyo, excitedly leading you to each of his teammates: loud Bokuto, flirty Atsumu, and reclusive Sakusa. You’re left alone with Sakusa when the other three rush off to find a bathroom, having been too excited to use one during your show.

“I didn’t take you for the bracelet type, Sakusa,” you comment, clocking the single bracelet on his wrist. “The colors are nice, though. They go with your eyes.” You let some of your facade come down, mostly because you figured you didn’t need to be as energetic around this one compared to the others.

“Yeah, Shoyo let me have one of his. Didn’t realize you had such a passionate fanbase,” he states and you fight the urge to laugh. “Or such a large one.”

“You didn’t think I had fans, Sakusa?” His eyes widen ever so slightly and the chuckle slips out before you can stop it, his ears turning a shade pinker.

“Not what I said,” he backtracks, avoiding eye contact. “The show was good,” he continues unexpectedly, and you find yourself appreciating his praise more than you should. It was a triumph, in your mind, every time you won over a new listener, and he was no different. At least he wasn’t one of the guys harassing you in your Instagram messages.

“I appreciate the compliment,” you say and catch his ears turning even redder. As much as he was trying to seem offputting, you could read him like a book. “You guys are in town for a game?”

“We’re playing not tomorrow night, but the night after. Coach would kill us if he knew we were going out before a big game,” he answers and you nod, gears starting to turn in your brain. It would be a headline tomorrow that the four players came to your show, but it would break the Internet entirely if you attended their game, especially in the middle of a sold-out tour. It was the kind of publicity you needed to drown out the tabloids.

“My last show of this city is tomorrow night, but I can get away with skipping a rest day. Would it be weird if I came to watch you play?”

“You want to watch me play?” Sakusa echoes. The tiniest little smirk plays on the corner of his lips. Ugh. For all his introvertedness, he still had the ego of a pro athlete. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“I meant you guys. Don’t think I forgot about the players that actually came to talk to me,” you correct quickly. You exhale through your nose and shake your head with a small smile. The enthusiastic conversation behind you tells you that the rest of the team is returning. “Fine. Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that antisocial attitude.”

“Have fun with that. I don’t like new people,” he says, testing you. Too bad you were used to men that probably weren’t healthy for you. “There’s no changing that.” Your forehead throbs at his pure audacity, but you manage to keep an unbothered expression.

“Good thing I love a challenge.”

—

“I didn’t think they’d actually show up,” he mutters, taking another look at the large screens projecting the image of you in a VIP box. Sakusa didn’t recognize you without your concert makeup and stage outfit until Shoyo practically knocked him over in excitement. Seeing you smiling and catching your eye, even from at the bottom of the court, made his stomach turn in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that first,” Bokuto beams, sending a powerful serve that barely cilps the top of the net. Sakusa finds his eyes drifting to your box, his scowl deepening when you blow an exaggerated kiss to his teammate. His next serve he puts more effort into, but when he looks up, you’re not even watching. Not only were you crashing his game, you were distracting his team. “Nice plan, Sakusa! Maybe we can become friends with them and go to each others’ events.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he cringes, the idea of spending more time with you making him nauseous. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the fact that you were making an effort to engage with him and his friends was outlandish. And all because he invited you to a game? Didn’t you have anything better to do?

“You thought inviting them to the game would scare them away, huh?” Atsumu’s watching Sakusa carefully, inspecting his disgruntled expression under a microscope. “Believe it or not, Omi, some people actually want to be around you…despite how difficult you make it sometimes.”

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” he threatens, but the blonde Miya merely shrugs, impervious to Sakusa’s warnings. “Can we agree to ignore their presence? Focus on the game. It’s your job.” Atsumu and Bokuto share a look, with typical Hinata none the wiser. Whether they knew it or not, your attendance was throwing off Sakusa’s entire concentration. The average spectator wouldn’t notice the change in Sakusa’s behavior; if anything, they would think he was functioning at a higher level than he usually plays. His serves are stronger, his spikes are sharper, and his steps are quicker than any other player on the court. Fans rave on social media about how focused he is in the game, and the reporters scribble in their notebooks the pressing question for the post-game press conference: Why are you playing so well today?

“I always play that well,” he mutters, his lie drowned out by the lively conversation around the booth in the corner of the restaurant. The Jackals had cinched an easy victory and Bokuto and Hinata dragged you from your box to get dinner with them. Sakusa sits at the edge of the booth, flanked by Atsumu, followed by Bokuto and Hinata. You sit at the other end, laughing at some dumb story being recounted. It made his forehead pound. “You just don’t notice.”

“Yeah, right,” Atsumu snickers with another sip of beer. “Admit it, something’s pissing you off.” Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that anti-social attitude. Your words linger in the back of his mind and fire him up again, unknowingly furrowing his eyebrows and incriminating him. “Yep. Knew it.”

“Shut the hell up, Atsumu.” He hated that his normally-idiotic teammate was on the cusp of exposing the truth, not to mention the fact that he’d downed one too many soju bombs and was feeling pushier than usual.

“Is it ‘cause they actually listened to you and showed up?”

“I told you to shut up,” he hisses through gritted teeth. You’re laughing so hard that tears are starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes. It’s the kind of laugh where no noise is actually leaving you and you’re fanning yourself with your hand. Gross.

“Aww, look at little baby Omi-Omi, finally having a feeling over someone wanting to get to know him,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa’s ears burn. He threatens his friend with an indescribable death to no avail. “I knew you had a heart under all that coldness!”

Sakusa’s fist clenches around his glass and he realizes his mistake a split second before there’s a sharp crack! and sudden pain prickles in his palm. “Oh shit, man. I–” His teammate swears under his breath when drops of dark red and amber starts to trickle down Sakusa’s arm, staining the white napkin on his lap. He grinds his teeth down to keep from crying out, the whiskey in his shattered cup burning his raw skin.

“What happened?” You’re by his side in an instant, your perfume flooding his senses in a way that makes him dizzy. “Jeez, Atsumu. What’d you do?”

“Why are you blaming me? He’s the one who was holding the cup,” Atsumu says defensively and you shoot him a look. “Fine. I got him riled up and he did,” he gestures to the mess on the table, “that.”

“Could one of you call your driver please? I think it’s time you three head back to your hotel,” you recommend calmly.

“What about Sakusa?” Hinata asks as he climbs out from the booth, dragging an apologetic Atsumu and a very buzzed Bokuto toward the door. “He should probably get that checked out.”

“I know. I’ll stay with him,” you reassure him and, after a brief pause of thinking, the short spiker nods and heads for the exit. Sakusa is rigidly still, save for the involuntarily twitching of his injured fingers. “C’mon, let’s go,” you say, gently guiding him out of the booth and grabbing some unused napkins to catch the bleeding. He follows you wordlessly, a million thoughts stewing in his eyes that he refuses to verbalize. He knew he didn’t like you when you tried to read him after your show, but the alcohol in his system was making him despise you.

You, sitting with him on the way to the nearest hospital. You, carefully looping the elastic bands of his mask over his face before leaving the car. You, politely declining a fan’s attempt to introduce themselves while you’re checking him in at the reception desk. You, listening intently to the doctor as she says that he’ll need stitches in his right hand and that they’ll need to pick every last particle of glass from his palm so that it doesn’t become infected. You, ignoring your vocal coach’s orders for a rest day and staying by his side from 11:00pm to 3:00am when the doctors finally finish his hand.

He despises you and his pride becomes a gag in his mouth once you drop him off at the Jackals’ hotel, rendering him unable to choke out a simple ‘thank you’ as you continue to treat him with unending kindness. You’ll get hurt if you keep being nice, he thinks to himself, and the way you flinch like you’d been shot tells him he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. He hears you murmur Sleep well, Sakusa, as he shuts the door with his left hand and stalks away, lost in the trenches of his mind.

—

“But, I’m not sure if it should be the A minor to keep with the chord progression or go to E to create some tension.” Your producer nods at you, his chin resting on his knuckles as you strum your latest song idea on your purple acoustic. It’d been a few days since your late-night trip to the emergency room with Sakusa, and you decided to spend a few hours in the studio before catching your flight to your next tour city. “And when I tried to do it on piano, I just wanted to change the key entirely.” He opens his mouth to speak but is abruptly cut off by three insistent raps on the doorframe of the control room.

“You have a visitor,” your publicist informs you, peeking her head into the room with a slightly bewildered look in her eyes. “He says it’s urgent.” Your eyebrows dip but you stand anyways, walking through the halls of the recording space until you reach the lobby of the building and stop in your tracks.

What the hell was he doing here?

“Hey,” Sakusa greets and you blink at him, like he was a figment of your imagination that would disappear if you ignored him. It’s impossible to ignore him, though, considering the outrageously large bundle of flowers cradled in his arm. He follows your eyeline, muttering, “I didn’t know which ones you liked, so I just…bought all of them.”

“I’ll, uh,” your publicist glances at you for a brief moment, giving you an unreadable look before gingerly taking the bouquet from the Olympian in the lobby. “I’ll take these and have them brought to your next hotel, okay?” She dismisses herself, leaving you alone with him.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you busy right now?” You cross your arms over your chest, annoyed that he replied to your question with a question of his own. Since dropping him off at the team’s hotel, you’d come to peace with his hatred for you even though you’d tried to be nothing but cordial; maybe he could tell that you wanted to be friends for the publicity, you theorized.

“I’m in a recording studio doing my job, so yeah,” you reply and allow all your suppressed attitude to rear its head. To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately fire back at you. If anything, Sakusa looked uneasy, nothing like the cold confidence you previously saw. “What do you want?”

“Do you have time for lunch?”

“Oh, now you’re interested in my company,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. In the time following that night at the hospital, you hadn’t received any updates other than an unprompted photo of hungover Atsumu. “Unless you’re ready to apologize for how much of an asshole you’ve been, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wanna start over,” he says as you turn your back on him to return to the studio. “One meal,” he proposes, “and if you want nothing to do with me after that, I’ll leave you alone.” You check the wall-mounted clock and make your decision.

“You get two hours.”

By the time you sneak through the back of a restaurant and sit down to eat, your stomach is turning itself inside out. You thumb through the menu eagerly, ignoring your present company until water glasses are set out and orders are taken.

“Look,” you begin, peering at him in the dim light, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“That makes two of us,” he agrees. “You go first.”

“Truth is, I didn’t go to the game to see you, or any of the Jackals, for that matter,” you admit. “I went to get the tabloids off my back and give them a different reason to talk. I didn’t mean to mess up whatever dynamic you guys had going, so for that I am sorry.” You can’t see much of Sakusa’s expression, but you can tell his eyes are on you by the way they shine like a cat’s. It was off-putting, but also drew you in like a black hole. “Is your hand doing okay?”

“It’s better now,” he replies. “Doc’ told me that if we’d left that glass in for longer, it would’ve been more serious.” You nod and take a drink from your water as an excuse not to respond, to see if he would go further. “I, uh,” he swallows thickly, steadying his nerves. “I’m sorry for being avoidant and just being a general asshole. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m…incredibly remorseful.” A puff of air leaves your nostrils in amusement and he can hear you smirk from across the small table.

“I appreciate the apology, and the apology lunch. Wanna start over without our respective teams breathing down our necks? Friends?” You stick your open hand toward him and he shakes it without hesitation, sealing your deal. “Awesome.”

“You said ‘tabloids.’ What do they say about you?” Your smile fades and for a moment, he thinks he’s pushed too far too soon. He’s on the brink of apologizing again when you exhale an unsteady breath.

“The tame ones call me an industry plant,” you explain awkwardly. “The–uh–bolder ones call me a slut.” His nostrils flare and he’s glad there’s no glass in his hand again, otherwise he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t be shattered. “The big drama came from me leaving the producer who’d helped me start my career. The media got the wrong idea, said I’d slept my way into working with him, and left when I’d had my fill.” Sakusa slowly stretches his neck from side to side, willing the sudden tension in his body to relax as he starts to see red. “I hope you can see why I wanted to give them a different reason to talk.” It’s more of a struggle than he expected to keep his voice steady.

“What actually happened? With the original producer?” You hum in lieu of answering, grateful to catch the approaching servers out of the corner of your eye.

“I’ll tell you another time,” you dodge, giving him a smile that he can tell is off. “For now, can we eat? I’m so hungry I’m about to eat these silly little herbs in the centerpiece.”

—

Sakusa stays in Tokyo longer than the rest of his teammates, who depart on the team jet for the next game. He says he wants to do a little more sightseeing, despite having an apartment in the most expensive highrise in the city and knowing the streets like the back of his hand. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to give up the…thing…he’d established with you. He fell into an odd sort of routine: saying goodnight over text, calling you in the morning and telling you what time he’s picking you up, choosing the best places that can shut down for the world’s biggest rockstar on a day’s notice. You were in town for three more days and ended up spending every waking moment of them with Sakusa.

“You’re really good at dodging the cameras,” you remark over a shared cup of ice cream on your last day, digging your spoon past the numerous toppings you’d insisted on adding. “How do you do it?”

“It helps when I’m not surrounded by the three biggest noisemakers on the planet,” he deadpans and you giggle, a sound he was increasingly becoming fond of the more time he spent with you. “I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know.”

“Everyone seems to know where I am before even I know,” you frown. “I envy you; I really do.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“When you’re trying so hard to avoid people, they tend to stop looking for you. Makes my job easier.” Your lips part in an oh of understanding. “But, I guess you’re here, so either you truly care about my wellbeing or you’re clinically insane.” You burst out laughing, so much so that you snort and have to cover your mouth with a napkin. “My running theory is that it’s a mix of both,” he declares with a rare upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter once you’ve caught your breath and checked the time on your phone. “I should go. My plane leaves soon and my manager’ll kill me if I’m late. She’s already iffy about me staying in Tokyo this long.”

“What’s your next city?”

“Madrid. I’m starting the European leg,” you reply while you pack up your things. He stands, walking you to the door of your waiting car. His eyes instinctively scan the surroundings street for cameras, and he subtly positions his body to block you from any passing eyes as you climb into the car. The window makes a humming noise as you roll it down.

“Have a safe flight.”

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah? I’ll miss you, even if you don’t want me to.” He memorizes the way the afternoon sunlight catches in your eyes, how each thump of his heartbeat seems louder when you’re near. Something is wrong in my brain, he thinks to himself. Once he’s completely sure your car isn’t being tailed, he dials Atsumu on the drive to the hotel to collect the rest of his things.

“You land already, Miya?” His car purrs beneath his fingertips as he speeds through the busy streets.

“Safe and sound,” his teammate confirms. “Though jet lag is starting to hit Shoyo and Bo. How were the rest of your dates?”

“They weren’t dates,” he argues, his hands unconsciously gripping the wheel tighter in indignance. “I was just thanking them for that night.”

“Yeah, and a bit more than that, I figure.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you,” he groans.

“Because you want me to say ‘I told you so,’ right? That it was a good idea for me to bring you to that show. You know, a trip to that conveyor belt sushi place will suffice as repayment.”

“In your dreams, Atsumu,” Sakusa deadpans.

“C’mon, Omi. I know you wouldn’t keep spending time with them if you didn’t feel some kind of tug.”

“Tug?”

“Like you’re drawn to them,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa feels like gagging. “Intimately.” Sakusa definitely didn’t think of you that way…right?

“You’re such a pervert.” His disgust is clear, and his speakers blow out with Atsumu’s screams of Not like that! and You don’t even pull enough for me to make fun of! “I’m at the hotel now so I’m gonna hang up. Not sure again why I even bother talking to you.”

“Because I’m your best friend,” Atsumu answers. “See you soon, my sweet Omi~”

“Remind me to punch you when I touch down.”

—

“How was the show a few nights ago?”

“Amazing, as always. Almost fell on my ass running around to meet people at the barricade, but thankfully kept my balance,” you chuckle, running the pad of your thumb over the petal of a purple gladiolus. “You can probably see a clip of it on all the fan pages.”

“You think I follow fan pages about you?”

“What? I follow fan pages about you,” you insist. “User ‘omi-omisbigtits’ has some pretty funny posts of you.” Sakusa groans from the other end of the line.

“That’s the one fan account I have blocked because they post such heinous things,” he recalls. “Did you scroll far enough to see the one where I’m at the zoo and–”

“You’re running away from the peacock, yep,” you finish. Out of the various presents and letters your fans gifted you, you find yourself drawn again and again to the pot of sword lilies. “I screenshotted it and made it your contact photo.”

“I’m never sending you flowers again,” he mutters, but you hear it, snapping your head upwards.

“These were you?” Your jaw drops so forcefully that it aches. “You’re the mystery flower sender? No one would tell me who sent these!”

“Because I told them I’d sue if you found out it was me,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes, a grin creeping onto your face.

“Why’d you want to send them anonymously?” Upon inspecting the color further, you realize where you’ve seen the shade before.

He’d sent you flowers that matched your favorite guitar.

“I didn’t wanna distract you before your shows. I was aiming for subtlety.” You blink in disbelief. Sakusa had sent you flowers the night before you started your show run in Paris, knowing you would be at the venue for soundcheck. Maybe he did care about you and your career.

“Well, you failed,” you state, staring at the large bundle of purple taking up half the space on your dressing room’s side table. “This bouquet is the opposite of subtle.”

“Bouquet? I ordered you one stem.”

“No,” you restated. Even though you’d never video called Sakusa before, you switch on your phone’s camera anyway to show him the absolutely gargantuan amount of flowers he mistakenly sent you. “You ordered this.” To your surprise, he turns on his camera as well. His face contorts into such a shocked and puzzled expression that you snort out the water you were sipping, burning your nostrils as tears prickle your eyes. “Stop looking like that, I can’t breathe!”

“What do you mean, ‘stop looking like that?’ I didn’t mean to send you the whole rainforest!” You choke out another uncontrollable laugh, turning the camera to face yourself and setting it in front of your vanity mirror. “Alright, at least you got them.”

“Yes, and I really appreciate you sending them.” You can tell he’s not used to having his camera on, as he keeps tilting the phone at odd angles and barely showing his face half the time. “What’re you doing right now?”

“Just in bed.” Or a snowstorm, from the looks of it.

“Why does it look like your poor phone is in a typhoon?”

“You’re literally so annoying,” he grumbles, reluctantly positioning himself so that he’s sitting against the headboard. With the new point of view, you also notice very quickly that he…is completely shirtless. “Better?”

“Yep, yeah. That’s fine,” you force out, clearing your throat aggressively while the image of his very broad shoulders assault your brain. “Sorry that I didn’t send you flowers for your game.”

“The guys would give me shit about it if you do, so I’m glad you did not,” he replies. “Though, it does suck not having you around.”

“This is the closest I’m ever getting to you saying you miss me. I should commemorate it with a plaque.” Sakusa clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. He must’ve taken a shower recently; his curls look slightly wet and dangle haphazardly across his eyes. You have the sudden urge to run your fingers through it, and then the even more sudden urge to slap yourself for thinking in such a way.

“What city are you in now? I know you just finished up Dublin.” His voice snaps you out of your daydreaming.

“Paris,” you manage to reply without too awkward of a pause. “You?”

“Paris.”

“Huh? I thought your next game was in Brazil,” you ask. His face goes still for a moment and you figure it’s probably frozen from bad service, wherever he is. “Hello?”

“Sorry, you broke up for a second. What were you saying?”

“I was asking why you were in Paris.”

“I’m not in Paris,” he states. “I’m in Seoul.”

“Isn’t your next game in Brazil?” He pauses for an almost imperceptible amount of time.

“Game schedule got rearranged. We’re in Seoul, then the States, then Brazil.”

“Oh. I see.” A loud series of knocking on your dressing room door makes you jump. “Ah, I’m sorry. I need to go.”

“Rockstar duties?”

“You know it,” you yawn, taking one last indulgent look at the exposed muscle on his shoulders. “Hopefully we both get some rest for the coming days.”

“Yep. G’night.”

—

There was a little bit of lingering guilt on his end after you hang up; the fact that he’d lied to you about his whereabouts didn’t escape him.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, what sentimental demon temporarily possessed him to take a plane to wherever you were (Paris, not the lie that he gaslit you into believing) and buy a last minute ticket to your show. His emotions and desires were thrown completely off balance; he truly didn’t care if he was up in the nosebleeds if it meant he got to see you. Thankfully, a wealthy couple had bought out an entire area of club seats for their granddaughter’s birthday, but decided last minute that they wanted to fly to Cancun. It made him a little anxious, having all that space to himself, but he figured he could have his guards and team invite family to make it a little less lonely. It didn’t matter how many strangers he needed to meet or how much he had to spend.

He just wanted to see you.

He finds himself in a familiar position from the first time he went to one of your shows, rooted under the awning of the expansive lounge area and just out of sight from fans. His arms unconsciously cross over his chest and the beads of the bracelet he’d dug through his luggage to find presses against his skin. But, this time, he isn’t annoyed by the pain; if anything, it reminds him that he’s actually here with you, even if you don’t know it yet.

I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know. His words echo back to him and he makes his decision, stepping out into the stadium lights and resting his forearms on the railing.

He wants you to know he’s there.

The first fan to notice is a girl in purple, slapping her friend furiously until they both are gawking at him. One pair of eyes becomes two, which becomes five, which becomes twenty, until hundreds of phone cameras are pointed at him and snapping photos. The sentimental demon possesses him again and he sticks up an involuntary peace sign, even going so far as to smile to look less bored. They scream for him and he thinks the sentimental demon is Atsumu, because he finds himself imitating his teammate’s movements. His hands clap together and he gestures for fans to toss him bracelets, which become an impossible shower as dozens are thrown at once. By the time the lights dim and news of his presence is trending across the continent, his arms are covered in sleeves of rainbow beads.

—

The ache in your feet is immediately replaced by adrenaline when your head of security informs you who came to the show. You don’t bother waiting for the golf cart to bring you to the back of the stadium and take off sprinting, chunky heels and all. They’re calling after you to hold on to let the rest of your team catch up, but you don’t listen. The stadium staff look at you fondly but also have a reasonably startled reaction to you running like you’d escaped from an asylum.

You round the corner absolutely heaving and his face breaks into a wide smile. You’d never seen him look like that before, never at his games or during any of the time you’d spent together. It was an expression reserved for only you in this moment. You don’t remember if he catches you or if you embrace him first, but soon enough your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, eyes squeezed shut and grinning like a lunatic. His arms are rock solid around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you can hear his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage. Neither of you speak for a few minutes because you don’t feel the need to; only when you pull away to hold his face with your hands do you manage to articulate words.

“You’re here,” you breathe. “You’re actually here.” Recognition blinks onto your face and you suddenly frown, lightheartedly slapping his shoulder, saying, “You lied! Your dumb ass said you were in Seoul!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he concludes unapologetically. “I did slip up with my story a few times, though.”

“Yeah, you got your own game schedule wrong.”

“To be fair, some games did get rescheduled, which is why I’m able to be here. Our next game’s in Seoul, which is why I blanked and said that instead,” he explains and you respond with an exasperated eyeroll. “Find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I see right through you, Sakusa Kiyoomi. You don’t…uhm…” He comes close enough that you can count his eyelashes and it takes you a few seconds to recompose yourself. “Mmm, you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid,” you challenge and hope he doesn’t hear the butterflies going wild in your stomach.

“Maybe I do,” he smirks and it only makes the situation more sweat-inducing. “I missed you, after all.” Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in but instantly shoot back open, gently pushing him away as he pouts. “What is it?”

“Take me out to dinner, first. If you apologize sufficiently for being a terrible liar, maybe you’ll get a kiss,” you propose and he’s already lacing his fingers in yours.

“Good thing I love a challenge.”

—

In spite of his attempts to ignore the cameras and the footsteps that were always a few feet behind him, there was a pit in his stomach every time Sakusa was in public with you. He couldn’t figure out why he was so irked, but the feeling made it difficult to enjoy how you smiled at him in quiet moments and pointed out things he’d never think to notice before. Most perplexingly, you didn’t seem bothered at all by the cameras. It was like they disappeared as soon as he came into your proximity; you barely spared them a glance in favor of beaming up at him.

Even though you agreed that there was a feeling more than platonic between you two, he hadn’t mustered up the urge to kiss you properly, opting for your forehead or your hands instead. It didn’t seem to bother you, the way he only reserved showing his affection when you were out of view. But, he slips up the night before you have to part ways, him for his next game and you for your final European date. The dread he’d experienced for days felt like intuition telling him something was inherently wrong, like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff he didn’t know the height of.

It comes crashing down when the tabloids catch him holding your hand.

“Can you believe this?” You snort, showing Sakusa the headline as he forces down the bile in his throat. “They think you’re my next ‘big catch,’ like you’re a fish or something,” you chuckle obliviously, leaning into him on the living room couch of his hotel suite. He manages a pained mhmm and watches as you continue to scroll through the news site, the photos of him holding your hand and grabbing your waist flying by like a nightmarish film reel. He rubs his palms back and forth over the fabric of his sweats, feeling suddenly feverish from every single point where your body was touching his. Clearing his throat, he swallows thickly and you finally look at him, concern pinching in your eyebrows. Your voice is gentle and you reach up to feel his forehead; he dodges your hand and you carefully hide your disappointment. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“We can’t do this.” His heart sinks as you sit up and blink at him, his words registering slowly in your mind. “I can’t…I can’t do this with you,” he sputters out. You exhale a single time and he watches your eyes flick from side to side, your brain running a thousand miles a minute.

“I don’t understand.”

“We need to stop.” You laugh forcefully, like you were commanding your body to feel lighter.

“If this is a joke, Kiyoomi, it isn’t funny–”

“It’s not a fucking joke; you need to stop being with me,” he snaps and the room falls silent. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat rushing through his ears, his face hotter than the sun.

“Why?” Your voice breaks and so does something in him, his jaw clenching unconsciously.

“You need to stop being nice to me,” he says through gritted teeth, “because I can’t guarantee I’ll be nice back.” This is how it always ends. Push them away before things get messy. This is how it works for Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“But you have been nice,” you fight back, your grief morphing into unfiltered rage as you stand and scream at him. “You sent me flowers. You bought me dinner. You flew across the world to see my fucking show!”

“That doesn’t matter. None of it mattered.” His composure wavers momentarily, unreadable emotions flashing across his face. “You can’t be close to me without getting hurt.” He gestures to your phone, the paparazzi image of you two together brighter than a Times Square billboard.

“Who said it needed to be that way?”

“Everyone did!” He stands without warning and you flinch backward, stumbling against the coffee table. “People think I’m an asshole, so that’s how I choose to stay. At the very least, I can predict things and prevent people from getting too close. You’re too close.”

“But you’re not an asshole. You’ve shown me that much,” you insist, arguing with his back as he starts to retreat into the master suite. What you say next makes him freeze, trapped in an endless time loop with you.

Tell me you care for your friends.

“What?” He’s seething as he turns, meeting your eyes. “What the fuck do you mean, do I–”

“Do you care about your friends?” You repeat, stepping closer to him. His eyes are burning, molten to the core even when you refuse to shrink away. “If Bo, Shoyo, and Atsumu were dying in a fucking fire, would you save them?”

“Of course I would,” he spits indignantly. “What kind of–”

“Then you have the capacity to love, Kiyoomi, as much as you don’t want to admit it.” You’re crying, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Why are you crying? He never wanted to make you cry. What did he do to make you cry?

“Because the last time you loved something, people scorned you.” They told him his passion was suffocating. They told him he was walking a path that one could only walk alone. He’s frozen, his feet left immobile on the hotel carpet. He makes no sound beside shaking exhales and can sense nothing but your voice coming closer.

“You made it your career to prove that it’s worthy of your love…but you forgot how to love anything else.” Time slows. He doesn’t remember when your face appeared so close to his. He can see a universe behind your eyes and he wants nothing more than to hold you and call you his. His passion was suffocating. It would hurt you. It would burn you. It would–

“I wish you could love yourself as much as I love you.”

One breath, and then another.

A crack in an eggshell. A hole in a fortress.

You are an asteroid completely obliterating the planet he considered himself.

And when he finally kisses you properly, he understands just how freeing being destroyed could be.

—

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not like cameras. They were gnats buzzing around his head, calling for him to look this way and that, catching his every reaction to whatever crossed his path. They were broken whispers that floated to his ears, unintelligible conversations that stayed as voices in his head. He did not like cameras, but he found that looking at you was infinitely better than looking at anything else.

“You doing okay?” Your murmur is the only thing he hears, quieting the rest of the chatter around him. Swaths of dresses and suits brush against his arms and he fights the instinct to shield you from view, despite being sat in the very center of the huge theater. It was the biggest award show of the season, and he’d made a vow with himself that he wouldn’t ruin tonight for you. With your hand in his, as long as he had physical contact with you, it was easier to keep the doubts in his mind at bay. “I’m feeling fine, if that’s what you need to know.”

“I’m doing okay as long as you’re okay,” he confirms softly, barely sparing a glance at the giant lens a few feet from his face. “I’m here to celebrate you. I won’t let them bother me tonight.” You beam at him, opening your mouth to say something when a commotion comes tumbling down the aisle. “Actually,” he mutters as his three teammates trip over themselves to find their seats in the rest of the row, “Do you think I can have one nasty scowl? I promise I’ll behave otherwise.”

“Having a rockstar best friend is like, the best thing ever,” Bokuto declares before you can respond to Kiyoomi.

“I’m so glad Omi finally got his head out of his ass, too,” Atsumu drawls with an unbothered yawn that makes Sakusa’s blood boil. The blonde Miya sibling had been very vocal with the press about playing as the matchmaker, pointedly dodging questions about his own romantic status. “I think I’ll secretly have ‘I told you so’ engraved on the inside of your wedding rings.”

“Over my dead body,” Kiyoomi grumbles and you smile, squeezing his hand once. He squeezes back, pressing a rare public kiss to the side of your head. You shift your body to lean more closely to his and your wrist presses down on something wrapped around his wrist.

“What’s under your sleeve?”

“Hmm? Oh, this?” He pulls back the freshly ironed fabric to reveal a familiar pattern of green and yellow beads, out of place compared to the rest of his formal attire. “Got it from a concert,” he smirks knowingly. “The show was cool, but I think I’m in love with the artist.”

“Yeah? You never figured out what that acronym stands for, did you?” He shakes his head and you point at each letter bead, explaining, “No one knows me like you do, and no one ever will.”

“Well, isn’t that fitting?” The lights dim and the orchestra starts to play its signature fanfare, spotlights gliding in aimless directions across the audience. “Thank you for helping me understand.”

“The meaning of the lyric? Of course, I think of you every time I sing it, now,” you smile.

“No, about what you said that night when we argued.” He feels a familiar blush creeping up his cheeks. “About loving me how you love me.”

“And do you get it now?”

“I do,” he nods, glancing at the colorful bracelet on his wrist and your fingers intertwined with his. “I just needed a little bit of convincing.” Your head settles on his shoulder and he lets you, allowing himself to relax in spite of the sea of cameras surrounding him.

“Good thing I love a challenge.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#tw blood #tw glass #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #kiyoomi sakusa x you #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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summercreolefanfictioner · 2 months ago

Text

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.1

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accomodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

Todoroki Touya has returned; it wasn't a drill.

The eldest of the Todoroki family has returned, and it was all over the news like wildfire. Pictures of him were around tabloids and newspapers, imprinted on TV screens along with family pictures of his 13-year-old self as news anchors and writers all over Japan broadcasted about the Endeavor Corp. finally having its original heir back to where he belonged. Two years ago, Todoroki Shouto announced he wouldn't be the one to replace his father, Todoroki Enji as the owner and CEO of their family business. However, Shouto focused on one part of the Endeavor Corp., particularly their sports and training business, as he wanted to become a personal trainer someday.

Touya was aware of what was happening on the business side of his family despite his rebellion seven years ago. After all, he saw them all over the news, watched his father on TV, and observed how everything was faring for them. So when he returned to the main house, he was a bit surprised at a few details he had missed. For one, his mother, Todoroki Rei, had already been discharged from the mental ward, faring well and welcoming him back with a big, warm hug and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It also seemed that things were a lot better between his parents, but some of them still held reluctance to forgive their father.

Particularly him and Natsuo.

Enji was aware of their hatred towards him, hence he would talk to them politically, as Enji the CEO of the Endeavor Corp., not as their own father. Touya believed it was only fair. He would've resorted to violence if that wasn't the case. Speaking of which, that was another reason, he returned.

"I have to settle things between this family and me once and for all," he informed them on the first day of his return. "I need to talk to Father."

He knew what Enji would say to him. His father will apologize and be remorseful over what happened. He will also mention about him being his successor in the future, even though he was having none of it.

"I don't need that title anymore," Touya coldly argued, resisting the urge to punch him in the face as he knew he wouldn't defend himself after everything he had done to them since they were kids. "Not from you, specifically."

Enji understood. Touya meant, "I will have that title by my own hands, not because you passed it to me cheap because Shouto didn't want it anymore." Afterwards, his father explained everything he was required to do before his first day in the company. He also mentioned something along the lines of, "You need to undergo rehab and therapy for a while. I knew what you have been up to these past seven years with your cigarette addiction and alcoholism."

Before, Touya would violently react, would be against his decision and say, "You're just scared because I might surpass you." Now, he just nodded at his direction much to Enji's surprise.

"Why are you so shocked? You think I will half-ass my return to this family?" Touya questioned, slightly mocking him.

"I know you wouldn't," Enji commented.

And before Touya left his office, he added: "Just so you know, I am not doing this for the family."

Enji raised a questioning brow.

"I'm doing this because of a certain someone."

------

The first few months of Touya's rehab and therapy were tough as shit, gnawing at him like sharp nails and digging his soul like he was trapped in darkness. He felt overwhelmed by everything, talking about his feelings all day, breaking out of his shell, and slightly wanting to just break things and be alone. Touya craved darkness at some point, the urge to be violent creeping on his shoulder like the devil even though a rational part of him warned him that it would not be the best choice. He wanted to destroy himself at this point, missing the familiar pain his piercings left on his ears and nose. He was breathing hard to calm himself, persuading his brain to shut its damn trap.

It's getting annoying, fucking shit. Everything's been chaotic.

The first few days were blank, spending it staring at mindless paintings and counting how many times the water from the faucet dropped in the sink. It was eerie yet relaxing, the silence enveloping him like a plague until it bit back to tell him how much madness he needed to unleash but couldn't. He secretly had his mp3 player in his pocket, and he would watch the door and the shadow underneath, checking if someone would come in. To this day, he still couldn't take it out.

He missed that damn voice, but he needed to be patient. He shouldn't miss her. He shouldn't think about her. This is nothing, he convinced himself. This is nothing compared to all the abuse I've endured before. The angry stare. The hateful remarks. The violent beatings. The disapproval underlying Enji's tone. His rough hand smacking him in the face. The burning scars left on his skin from the heating iron. The pitiful stares. The blood he spat from his mouth.

Everything.

EVERYTHING.

I WANNA DIE.

Out of panic, he quickly reached for the mp3 player from his pocket, a secret he kept from the treatment center. He wasn't supposed to have any gadgets with him, but he knew he had to. He couldn't drink alcohol. He couldn't smoke a stick to curb this annoying feeling. He cannot destroy shit. But he had to hear that soothing voice. He had to endure.

He put in the earbuds and played the audio, his breathing coming down in sighs as he felt himself relaxing.

"Touya..."

"Yes, call me that," he said to no one, tears streaming down as he smiled in satisfaction.

"Touya..."

"Are you awake?"

"I made you breakfast."

"Touya..."

"Do you want me to take an off day from work?"

"Yes," he answered, hugging the pillow beside him and imagining it was her. "Just stay. Stay with me."

"Touya..."

"I love you..."

"Touya..."

I love you too.

------

Touya has learned something, and that therapy was another form of circle from hell, or that was just him. He heard people preach about therapy all the time, that undergoing therapy healed them, made them see the light at the end of the tunnel, and had them humbled in a way they could never explain. Touya wished it was the same for him, but nah. It wasn't. Therapy was another circle from hell. It made him too vulnerable, too open he could feel the burnt scars on his skin itching too much the more the therapist asked him about himself.

He also thought his therapist couldn't care less about his minimal responses, the first few days boring him as the man asked about his name, how old he was, what he did for a living after he ran away, what helped him cope—you know, the basic questions every therapist could ask for.

"Todoroki Touya. 26. I did odd jobs. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Fighting."

The therapist looked displeased, he noted. He probably wanted more answers than that.

"Have you been in therapy before?"

"No."

"What do you expect from this session?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you seeking therapy?"

If he was being honest, Touya's answer would be: "I don't know? Just to get this shit done, I guess?" Not like he would be rude now. After all, he returned as Todoroki Touya after seven years of rebelling. He should keep his damn trap if he wanted them all back.

Even her.

"Do you want to become a better person?"

"Yes."

next chap

masterlist

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha touya #mha dabi #bnha touya #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x oc #touya x oc #dabi todoroki #todoroki dabi #touya todoroki x oc #touya todoroki x reader #dabi touya

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cupofteaguk · 4 years ago

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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.

#btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #yoongi scenarios #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts imagines #traci writes

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hongism · 4 years ago

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touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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streetlight11 · 3 years ago

Text

Her Promise

Summary: It wasn’t a secret that you have disliked Sangyeon since you were in diapers. He was your mother’s best friend’s son. Though he was born just 27 days after you, it seems like he was a lot older than you in terms of his maturity. You don’t understand why the bad blood between you two. Until one day, you had been arranged for a marriage with him so suddenly.

Theme: arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers

Genre: angst, sad, fluff

Warnings: mentions of leukaemia, death, alcohol, swearing

WC: 10k

Pairing: Lee Sangyeon x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! This plot just randomly came to mind. It's kind of sad and a little angsty but you'll get through reading it. I promise! also, the words in italics is a flashback :)

Your family has been a close family friend to the Lee’s family and that was because your mother and Mrs Lee were best friends since high school. Also the reason why you were only 27 days older than Mr and Mrs Lee’s only son. However, not everyone has a happy friendship. In this case, it was you and the said son. His name was Lee Sangyeon and it was pretty obvious that you two could never get along since you were in diapers.

Despite your mothers being best friends and have been for the past 30 years, give or take. It’s no wonder that when they were pregnant with the both of you, they kept fighting with each other over small silly things when they barely got past even the slightest of arguments throughout their friendship.

And yet, it seems like luck was never on your side to begin with because throughout your whole education life up till today, he always ends up in your school or at least the school that you chose specifically hoping to be as far from him as possible.

It always baffles you how he would be the first person you spot amongst the crowd during the first day of school.

Did he do all these on purpose?

Why would he go to this extent just to annoy you if you both hated each other?

Maybe he didn’t in fact do this on purpose, but still, what are the odds that you end up in the same campus amongst the hundreds of schools available? That was a mystery you never plan on solving.

It was a bright Tuesday afternoon, students were scattered all over the large campus of Hangang University. You had just parked your car in a free space, exiting your vehicle before proceeding to lock it and walk towards the Computer Science building. You were halfway through the parking lot when someone suddenly swung an arm over your shoulder.

“Good morning my favourite person in the world!” Lisa giggled to your left as Rosie appeared on your right with her usual beaming smile that could melt hearts with just a glance.

“Hey girls, you’re early” You asked with a soft chuckle knowing Lisa was always late for class.

“Yeah, I wanted to leave my apartment now like I always do but Rosie begged me to drive her today because her baby is in the workshop.” Lisa huffs, only for the blonde girl on your right to defend herself.

“Hey, at least we got here on time. You’re welcome.”

With that, Lisa stuck out her tongue at Rosie, earning a laugh from you. The three of you continued to walk to the CS building, only to find Jennie and Jisoo chatting by the lockers while Jennie scavenged through her locker.

“Ew, is it just me or is the barbeque chicken a little dry today?” Jisoo scowls as she drops the chicken leg back onto her plate.

“No, I agree. It’s foul.” Lisa’s face contorts in disgust before you speak up.

“Do you guys want my salmon instead? I'm kind of full already.” You said, only to find them staring at you in concern. They began asking you if you were feeling okay and if you needed any medication of any sorts. To which you shook your head and just told them you were already full from the breakfast your mother made for you before she left for work with your dad.

Lisa and Jisoo ended up sharing your salmon piece, making you smile. At least your food wouldn’t be wasted, you thought.

A few hours later, your classes for the day were finally over. All you know is that your bed has been waiting for your arrival since the minute you left for school. You left class slightly later, telling the girls you had something to discuss with your lecturer regarding the assignment.

You told them to just head home first and not wait for you.

Almost 20 minutes later, you finally left the lecture room to head towards the parking lot where you had parked your car earlier. Your mind was clouded with the assignment requirements as you scrolled through the soft copy of the assignment through your email, too caught up in your thoughts to notice the group of boys walking down the hall.

That wasn’t until your shoulder roughly collided against someone’s back. It sent your whole body to stumble back from the impact. You were about to apologize when you heard a snicker coming from whoever it was.

So you glanced up and lord behold, it was just the person you were looking for…

Not really.

“Can you pay attention to where you walk? It’s not that hard to use your eyes.” Sangyeon’s voice was monotonous yet a pitch higher than others, just like his ego.

“That’s because you’re in my way, Lee.” You said sarcastically as you walked past him, not forgetting to purposely bump into his arm. He let out a scoff under his breath, fiery glare burning a prominent hole into the back of your head.

God, you can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Him included.

A few days later, it was finally a Friday. You heard words going around campus saying that one of the seniors in the school’s football team was having a frat party at his place tonight. He invited everyone in the football team, and people that he knew. Turns out he also told his teammates to bring whoever they wanted whether he knows them or not.

Lucky for you (or maybe not), Rosie’s boyfriend happens to be one of the football players. If you remember correctly, his name is Yunhyeong.

And so you already know where this is going.

Hence, the reason why you were now standing right outside the house where the party was held.

No doubt the house was a beautiful landed property at the hills that overlooked the city, it still didn’t give you complete comfort knowing that you would be surrounded by drunk young adults who have no care in the world once the alcohol takes over their system.

Sure you sometimes go to these parties but you weren’t really that type of girl. It’s always an unpleasant surprise to others who aren't your girls, when you decline their offers of alcohol saying you don’t drink.

Though there were instances where you’d have some people still insisting on giving you a drink, you rejected them firmly whether they liked it or not.

And today was no different.

One moment, you were talking to your friends. Another moment, and you were suddenly left alone by the kitchen island. Isolating yourself from the countless intoxicated bodies, dancing freely without a single care in the world.

It suddenly dawned on you that you were indeed alone, with no other individual that you recognize in that huge house. Your friends were scattered around the main living area, each of them either with their significant other or just randomly hooking up with someone. Using alcohol as an excuse to be brave and approach someone at a party like this.

You sighed, reaching into your back pocket to fish for your phone. You were so close to texting them you wanted to head home first, when a deep voice broke your little bubble of thoughts.

“Hey… Y/N right?” The handsome boy asked as he smiled down at you softly.

He clearly didn’t seem too drunk, nor was he completely sober like you.

“Yeah… you are?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound like a bitch.

“I’m Changkyun. I see your friends have left you so I thought maybe you’d want some company?”

Well, at least he’s being considerate enough.

“About that… I was actually about to-” As you were talking, your eyes were searching the room for at least one of the girls. But instead, your gaze was locked on a specific individual who was leaning against the staircase railings just staring at you with a subtle frown on his face, making your voice halt in your throat.

It was Sangyeon.

You should’ve known he would be there tonight. He’s the freaking midfielder in Hangang U’s soccer team for goodness sake!

For some reason, the moment you met his eyes, it was as though you got sucked into a black hole with no way to escape. That wasn’t until the warm touch on your arm made you jolt away and soon turned back to Changkyun who was now staring at you with worry.

“Hey? You okay? What’s wrong?” He asked, hoping he didn’t scare you away by that simple touch.

“Y-Yeah… Sorry Changkyun, but I think I’m gonna head home. See you around.” You gave him a sincere smile before turning to leave after he said his goodbye.

There is no way you’re gonna stay there any longer. It’s not like you were drunk or anything. Not like you’d expected him to show up in black leather pants, dark grey button down shirt tucked in, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair parted close to the middle to frame his face and show his forehead, attractively. And definitely not like you felt as though your stomach was doing a flip in your abdomen after seeing him there physically.

Right?

No. You still hate him. He’s just a walking nuisance in your life. You don’t feel anything for him. Maybe he needs to stop appearing in your line of vision every 5 minutes.

It’s been two weeks since that frat party in which you had texted your friends saying you were already at home. Of course you didn’t get a response immediately but they still replied to you the next morning, telling you they were safe and they were glad that you were too.

It was a rainy Wednesday afternoon where students were all stuck on campus with nowhere to go. You were just seated at a wooden table alone with your laptop and scattered notes on the surface when the ray of sunlight that was previously shining down on you, got blocked by a figure.

You glanced up and not surprisingly, it was Sangyeon. He was alone. For once. He was always with his friends, so you wondered why he chose to walk around alone today.

“What?” You asked nonchalantly before looking back down at your laptop.

You heard a scoff from him only for him to speak up, “Did your parents tell you?”

You got confused as you looked back up to him and blinked, incredulously at what he just asked you.

“Tell me what?” You asked. He wasn’t sure if he was faking it or not but he figured with how genuinely confused you look, it was quite clear you weren’t pretending to not know what he was referring to.

“My parents are coming over to your home this weekend to discuss ‘something serious’. I’m not going. I’m not about to sit there and listen to what the ‘something serious’ is, let alone sit there trapped and stare at you the whole night.” Sangyeon said blankly as he burned holes in your head.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you there anyway.” You scoffed, only for him to push himself off the table and smoothed down his shirt.

Sangyeon left without saying anything else, watching as he turned his head as though in search of his friends. However, the minute you looked back down at your laptop, it seems like you missed the way he glanced at you subtly before turning back in front.

That same day, you went home to find your parents in the living room. Your father was watching the news on the flat screen tv while your mother was just watering the potted plants on the shelves.

The minute you stepped into the living room, your father turned to you and smiled brightly, “Oh, sweetie you’re back. We wanted to tell you that Mr and Mrs-” but before he could finish, you did it for him, stunning them in the process.

“-Lee are coming over this weekend to discuss ‘something serious’... I know.”

With that, your mother and father glanced at each other before a smile appeared on their faces again. You already knew what they were about to ask so you beat them to it.

“Sangyeon told me… So what’s so serious that they wanna come over here and talk about it?” You asked, not knowing what to expect but all you got was silence.

“We have to wait till everyone’s there.”

“Not everyone’s gonna be there…” You said.

“What do you mean?” Your mother asked.

“Sangyeon said he’s not coming. He doesn't want to.”

“B-But, he has to be there. It’s important.”

“What’s so important that he has to be there for?” Your voice laced with annoyance at the thought of having to sit in a room with him for minutes too long. Your parents got quiet before your mother spoke up again but for some reason, her voice sounded weak.

“You’ll know on Saturday.” She gave you a weak smile. Too weak to the point that she almost looks… pale?

Why is she pale?

But your mind was too jumbled up with what the main topic for this said family dinner would revolve around. Hence, why you were now sprinting up the steps and to your room. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You just hoped the weekend passes by before you know it.

Saturday came in a flash and to say you were ready for whatever family gathering this was, is definitely a lie. You were curious. You were desperate to know just what important business is there to discuss with you and Sangyeon. Despite knowing he won’t be there for whatever this meeting is about, it still rendered you curious on just how important this said matter is.

You were told to look presentable even though you’ll just be at home. So you pulled out the nicest outfit you could find and just opted for a simple blouse and your denim jeans.

Once you were done getting ready, you left your room only to hear your mother calling out to you from downstairs, “Y/N sweetie, the Lee’s are here!”

You made your way down the marbled steps, ready to greet the elder couple when your eyes fell on their son who clearly said he wasn’t going to be here. But of course, it looked like he had been forced against his own will to be here and you were right.

“Oh! My sweet Y/N! It’s been so long. How are you my dear?” Mrs Lee asked as you broke your gaze from Sangyeon only to smile happily when you looked at his parents.

“Hello Mr and Mrs Lee. I’m doing well despite my crazy uni life. I hope you’re both well and healthy!” You said as Mrs Lee hugged you warmly like how she had been doing since you were young.

After greeting them, the 6 of you began walking to your dining room. You then turned to Sangyeon who was walking beside you, only to ask out of curiosity, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna come?”

With that, he turns to you and shoots daggers at you through his glare but it does nothing to scare you away.

“Do I look like I wanna be here?”

“Clearly.” You said, just to get on his nerves and it did.

“Fuck you.”

“I’d gladly fuck myself too.”

Sangyeon frowns at your comment despite knowing it was sarcastic. But he still found it amusing that it came out from your mouth. Sure you’ve cursed him a lot of times when you fought with him, but this was a different thing.

All of you finally sat down in the dining room, you helped your mother set the table.

A few minutes went by and everyone was just chatting amongst one another. Well, more specifically the elders while you and Sangyeon simply sat there across each other in silence. You were absentmindedly picking on your food, suddenly losing appetite.

All you wanted was for them to start discussing the very important business. Which is why your patience has run thin, making you blurt out the question that has been floating in your head since Wednesday.

“What’s the important thing you called me and Sangyeon here for?”

The room fell silent as you kept your eyes on your plate of untouched food. Completely ignoring the way Sangyeon had his eyes trained on you. After what felt like hours, your mother finally announced it.

It made your heart stop for a moment.

“We have decided to marry you off with Sangyeon.”

That was the last thing you ever wanted to hear from them. Never did you expect it to be this. Why were they doing this to you? Of course you know you’re single and not dating anyone but still… How could they?

“What?!” Both you and Sangyeon said in unison.

Tension filled the air, thick in its wake. You couldn’t look elsewhere except for your mother who had announced the news.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” You mumbled under your breath as Sangyeon got up, letting the chair drag painfully across the wooden floor. His mother grabbed his wrist to stop him but he roughly yanked his wrist from her and simply replied with his firm answer, “There’s no way I’m marrying her. I’m out.”

Sangyeon stormed out and you were so tempted to do the same but all you could do was glare at your parents in disbelief.

“Sweetie-” Your mom began but you were quick to interject.

“No! That’s not happening! Mom, you know we hate each other! How can you ask me to marry him when I don’t even love him?!” Your voice was raised as you stood up from your seat. Blood boils in your veins, heart pounding rapidly in your chest out of pure anger. You wanted nothing more but to scream.

You turned in your heels to leave but your mother caught your hands when you were about to reach the stairs. You pulled your hand from her grip, throwing your arm behind your back from the force.

“Sweetie please, listen to me-”

“No mom! I’m not marrying him and that’s final!” You yelled, too furious to even notice the way your mom had clutched her chest as her breathing started to become shallow.

Before you knew it, your mother collapsed to the ground but you were quick to catch her body right when she was about to crash onto the hard wooden floor.

“Mom!” You gasped as your dad and both of Sangyeon’s parents rushed over to where you were.

Mr Lee called the ambulance in which they came just 10 minutes later, carrying your mother’s unconscious body onto the stretcher and bringing her into the ambulance. Your father followed her in the vehicle while Mr Lee offered you a ride there.

Hours passed and you were waiting patiently outside the ER when a doctor came out. Your dad rushed over so you could only guess that she was the one who attended to your mom.

“Doctor, how’s my wife?”

“Your wife’s still under constant checks but so far, her heart is beating stably. However, it seems that her abnormal white blood cells have rapidly multiplied since her last check up.” The doctor said, making you frown.

“White blood cells? What’s going on? What’s wrong with my mother?” You asked desperately, still not sure of what’s going on.

“Your mother was diagnosed with Leukaemia stage 2 but from what I saw today, I believe it’s now up to stage 4.” The doctor announced, making you even more confused.

“What?” You whispered as you stared at your dad, hoping that it’s not true. But all you got was a disheartened smile that broke you into a million pieces.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered to him sadly, upset that they’ve been keeping this a secret from you.

“I’m sorry baby, but your mother told me not to. She… She didn’t want you to get worried.” He replied.

You don’t understand. You knowing about this was better than keeping it hidden from you. If you had known about this sooner, you wouldn’t have shouted at her. Instead, you would have taken extra care of her. You would have given her more love than what she gave you. And you wouldn’t have to stand here, right now, hoping for your mother’s safety and health.

You slumped onto one of the chairs, staring into space as your father rubbed soft circles into your back to calm you down.

Three days passed and you have been visiting your mother at the hospital diligently after your classes. You stayed till night time, allowing your dad to fetch you from the hospital after he also came by to visit your mom.

You were currently alone in the room with your mom as your dad went out to buy dinner for all three of you.

She was just lying there sleeping peacefully after having a deep conversation with her about some things, her eyes now closed, breathing consistent, chest heaving up and down according to her oxygen intake.

You were just about to doze off when the heart rate monitor suddenly began beeping rapidly. It caused you to panic as you ran out of the room to call for the nurses.

When you came back, your mother was shaking on the hospital bed. Tears started streaming down your face as you found yourself curled up in the corner just watching the hospital staff do whatever is necessary to help your mother.

You didn’t notice your dad who had just come back, only to rush to you after putting the food down on the desk. It was when he cupped your face, that you finally realized his presence.

He pulled you against him as you couldn’t tear your eyes off your mother’s figure, shaking violently on the bed.

It was as though someone had dropped a bomb just a few feet away, a deafening silence pierced your ear drums followed by the single beep sound that was continuous without a pause. The sound soon became a mere ring in your ears.

You slowly brought your line of sight towards the heart rate monitor beside your mother’s bed and that’s when you saw it. The painful straight line with no spikes going up or down.

That’s when you knew, she was gone.

No. This can’t be real. This is just a dream. Wake up Y/N. Pinch yourself. Slap yourself. Do whatever it is to wake yourself up from this nightmare!

And yet, you’re still there in your dad’s arms listening to the nurse who wrote down the words you never hoped to hear.

“Patient is Jeong Hyemin. Time of death, 2143hrs.”

All the more you cried harder against your father’s chest. You were broken. Completely and utterly broken. Your mother left you before you could even say goodbye. She left before you could even tell her that you love her unconditionally even though you told her that everyday.

As much as your heart hurts, you knew you had to accept it. You knew you had to be strong for your mother. And that was exactly what you did.

The next whole week, you didn’t come to school. You emailed your lecturers personally and told them about your loss. They all sent you their well wishes for you and your dad, to which they excused you from school to attend your mother’s funeral. It broke you but you couldn’t collapse just then.

Your mother would want you to be happy, to continue living a wonderful life, with or without her. And that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

The next two weeks came as a blur and you were dreading for the day to finally arrive. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in the mirror and see what you looked like. Because at that very moment, you were in an item of clothing where you never thought you would wear anytime soon.

It was a wedding dress. Your wedding dress. It has finally come to this.

Your makeup stylist did a few touch ups to your eyeshadow whilst another lady adjusted the bow on your waist that separates your laced top with your beautiful silk gown that drops to the floor elegantly behind you.

If you were being honest, you had hoped for this very day to come when you would walk down the aisle with your arm linked with your dad’s while your mother stood at the front row, watching you proudly. Witnessing you entering a new life with your chosen partner whom you’d love with all your heart.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case for you and it hurts you. But you kept telling yourself the same thing over and over again.

“I have to stay strong.”

That was the last thing you mumbled to yourself as you left the bride’s room, only to head towards the outdoor wedding ceremony where your parents had already booked an incredibly beautiful mansion located at the highest hills of the city.

It was a small ceremony with only your family and his, and very close relatives of both sides but that was it. None of your friends were there but you already told them about today.

Little did you know, his friends knew about it too.

You were approaching the outdoor garden where everyone was waiting for you when all of a sudden, your emotions started swirling in you.

A tear rolled down your cheek the minute you saw your dad standing at the doorway which leads you directly down the aisle. Your dad gave you a soft smile before cupping your face and kissing your forehead. He wiped the tear away with his thumb as he whispered, “You look so beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure your mother would be so happy to see you like this.”

With that, you had to force your tears back, swallowing them as you nodded before linking your arm with his.

The song started playing and soon, both of you began to walk down the aisle. The first thing you saw was Sangyeon standing at the foot of the platform. He was wearing a navy blue tuxedo, looking quite handsome if you were being completely honest.

But the frown on his face was evident enough for you to know that he didn’t like this as much as you didn’t like this either.

Once you were standing just two feet away, you turned to your dad who kissed you again on the forehead before putting your hand in Sangyeon’s outstretched ones. After your dad left your side, Sangyeon guided you up the steps carefully.

His touch was soft, almost as if he wasn’t touching you at all. Minutes went by and right after you’ve both said your vows, it was time for the exchange of rings and sealing the deal with a kiss but of course, neither of you agreed to it. So when you were officially announced as husband and wife, you both looked at each other with a familiarity in your eyes which screamed “I hate all of this”.

Sangyeon lets out a soft groan before planting a chaste kiss to your temple, pulling away as soon as he kisses.

Both of you walked back down the aisle and once you were in the mansion, it took you less than a second to walk away from him and make your way straight to the bride’s makeup room.

Sangyeon didn’t bother to call for you as he too made his way to the common room, wanting to be as far away from you as possible. He hated every single minute of this. He never wanted this. But he was being forced to. And he doesn’t even know why.

When he heard from his parents that you accepted the arranged marriage, it baffled him.

You were both so adamant on rejecting this whole fiasco during that night of the dinner so what changed your mind?

That was a question he could never solve.

Days became weeks and you had moved into the new home that his parents and yours bought for Sangyeon and you to live in. It was a beautiful one story home that had 3 bedrooms, one study room, one living room and a backyard complete with a swimming pool. You were thankful for the home but you didn’t think it was necessary considering the state that you and Sangyeon were being put in.

Nevertheless, you didn’t want to disappoint the elders. Hence the reason why you moved in with Sangyeon without a single argument with your dad and in-laws.

Unfortunately, the fact that you two were now living under the same roof, it was quite expected of you to end up fighting over the smallest little things. If being within radius of each other on campus brought unnecessary snickers and curses to one another, living under the same roof only heightened those said things by 80%.

There wasn’t a day where you could walk around the house peacefully unless the other wasn't home.

It has been 8 weeks since you lived there with him. Despite the constant fights and heated arguments that the two of you often get into, none of it leads to the other doing unfaithful things behind each other’s back.

Before the marriage, it was quite clear that you weren’t in any sort of relationship with anyone nor were you the kind to sleep around with strangers you just met at a club or parties. Whereas, Sangyeon on the other hand was completely that, except he too was single. He tends to sleep around with girls he met at a party or the clubs he went to.

But never did he actually pursue any of his one night stands because he simply didn’t feel that way for them.

However, when he got married to you despite being against it, he made a promise to himself that he should not do all those things to you even if he doesn’t love you. Because he knows that it’s wrong and that he despises people who cheat on their partners.

For that, he told himself not to be that monster.

And he didn’t. Thankfully.

But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t storm out of the house after an argument just to get fresh air and be away from you at that very moment.

This goes both ways as sometimes, you would do the same if you couldn’t stand being in radius of him.

But tonight was different.

You were just washing the dishes when the front door opened to reveal a very drained Sangyeon who had just gotten back from the gym.

He strolled through down the hallway with his duffle bag strap resting on his right shoulder, the wet patches on his grey tank top sticking to his torso, black track shorts resting on his hips. His hair was slicked back from being drenched in sweat.

You spared him a quick glance over your shoulder before you turned back to the dirty dishes. Unfortunately for you, he caught you glancing just in time.

He walked past you to go to the fridge after putting his bag down on the floor, opening it and immediately grabbing the bottle of iced water sitting there patiently for him to take it. He downed half the bottle in less than 5 seconds, only to hear him let out a satisfied sigh right after.

You remained quiet as he looked at you for a moment, a small part of him wanted to ask you if you’ve eaten but a bigger part of him, more so his ego, was telling him to walk away.

For some reason, he decided to go with the former. Something he hasn’t been doing all these years.

“Had your dinner yet?” He asked, making you turn off the tap after setting down the clean dish onto the rack above your head before turning to him with a slight confusion on your face.

“Mhm. You?”

“Not yet.” He said as he leaned his hip against the counter top.

“What do you feel like eating?” You asked, wiping your hands dry with the towel hanging off the hook on the wall.

“I kind of have the feel for kimchi fried rice… I’ll just make do with what is there in the fridge. No worries.” Sangyeon said with a soft smile on his face before he left to take a long shower. Something he always did when he had a lot going on in his mind.

The minute he left, you stared at his descending back for a minute before turning back with a confused frown on your face.

Sangyeon was in the shower for almost 20 minutes. Taking a warm bath to calm his tensed muscles due to the intense workout he did with Juyeon and Hyunjae earlier. After his stress relieving bath, Sangyeon changed into a pair of sweatpants and his oversized shirt he normally uses to sleep.

He towel dried his hair, leaving it in an utter mess on his head with no care whatsoever.

He simply brushed through his wet locks with his fingers haphazardly before leaving his bedroom toilet. Sangyeon and you weren’t sharing bedrooms. It was just a mutual agreement right from the first night together.

You took the master bedroom in this house while he took the second bedroom.

Sangyeon was just walking down the hall, scratching the back of his head randomly when he caught a strong whiff of something delicious filling his nostrils.

“What the?” He whispered to himself as he cautiously made his way closer to the end of the hall. The minute he made a right turn, that’s when he saw you scooping out the contents of the pan into a clean plate. To his surprise, it was the exact dish he told you he was planning to cook earlier.

He finally stepped out of the shadows, only to startle you.

You flinched but that was it.

“Hey… I figured you’d be too tired to cook so I made it for you. Just leave the plate in the sink after you’re done. I’ll wash it later.” You pressed your lips into a small little smile before placing the dish on the kitchen island together with a spoon.

Right when you were about to leave the kitchen, his voice stopped you from walking any further only to hear him whisper a soft “thank you” to you.

You gave him a nod and soon left.

Sangyeon stares at your descending back before you disappear from his trail of sight, only to then tilt his head in amusement at your sudden kind act. For some reason, he found himself smiling as he took a mouthful of your delicious fried rice.

Another 3 weeks went by and you had just gotten back from your night study session with Lisa and Jennie, only to find Sangyeon slumped on the couch. He had his face buried in his hands as he looked like he hadn’t slept for days.

You frowned as you locked the door and soon went over to stand behind the long couch, diagonally from the couch he was sitting at.

“Rough day?” You asked quietly, but all you got was silence so you tried again.

“Have you eaten?”

Silence.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

Silence.

“Sangyeon, even if you hate me, at least say yes or no so I can-” And that’s when he bursts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Sangyeon yelled as he glared at you. His nostrils flared upon every heavy breath he took. You were stunned by his harsh tone, clearly not wanting any argument when you first asked the question.

“Excuse me?” You asked with a tone that was pretty obvious to anyone that you were clearly offended by his words.

“Didn’t you hear me?! I said shut the fuck up!” Sangyeon stood tall, his face red as you could only imagine he was stressed about something. A scoff left your lips, feeling the anger seeping through your skin with every word he said to you.

“Why? Why do you want me to shut the fuck up so badly?!” You asked as you stared at him with mixed emotions.

“God, you’re so fucking annoying!” Sangyeon growled as he began to storm off but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Answer my fucking question, Lee Sangyeon! I was just being nice and caring about your well being and all I got was to shut up? You’re a fucking asshole you know that?” You said, your words filled with venom as he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching tight.

“Who taught you to be such a brat? Your mother?” Sangyeon accidentally blurted that out of sheer anger. Your grip around his wrist left and the next thing he knew, your eyes were glossy from the tears threatening to fall.

“Don’t bring my mother into this.” You warned but he was still fuming with anger.

“Why? Why can’t I?! She’s the only reason why we’re in this stupid marriage anyway!”

You didn’t know what ran through your mind but the minute those words left his mouth, you couldn’t help but swing your hand onto his cheek. This shocked him to a certain extent as he simply glared at you but never did anything to hurt you physically.

“Do you know why I accepted the marriage proposal? Do you wanna know why I decided to walk down that fucking aisle and have myself being called as your official wife?! Well here’s the reason why. I promised my mom I would.” You paused as he remained quiet. You could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as though trying to process your words.

“My mom died wanting me to marry you. She told me she wanted to see me walk down the aisle one day and into your arms. Until now, I don’t understand why she specifically wants it to be you, but that’s what she wanted. So I promised her that she would be there for when that day comes. But she left me before she could even witness that for herself. She left before I could even say goodbye. It broke me. It fucking broke me Sangyeon! That’s why I chose to accept the proposal even when…”

You stopped for a moment, not realizing that you had been crying until you tasted salty tears on your lips.

“...even when I didn’t love you. I did it because I made a promise to her. I don’t want to let her down, Sangyeon.... I never wanted any of this to happen. And I know you feel the same so I’m sorry.” Those were the last things you said to him before going to your bedroom and locking yourself in there.

Sangyeon was left standing there, feeling completely shitty with what he said to you earlier. He never meant to hurt your feelings. He should’ve known better not to mention your mom but he only said that out of pure anger.

He knows it’s his fault but his ego was too high for him to simply give in to his mistake.

He was about to just brush this off when he heard the door click and soon, you were seen leaving your bedroom with a cross body purse on you. You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you just left the house with a soft slam of your front door. He watched as you took your white mini cooper and drove out of the driveway.

“Sweetie, why don’t you want to accept the proposal?” Your mother asked weakly as you sat on the chair beside her hospital bed.

“Mom, you know I don’t love him. We’ve been fighting since we were kids. I don’t see why I should marry someone who I don’t love.”

“Oh sweetie, you can only learn to love by loving.”

“Mom, that’s just fairy tale talk.”

“Do you wanna know something?” She asked as you stared at her quietly while you caressed the back of her hand with your thumbs as he took this silence to continue.

“Your father and I weren’t on good terms too when we first met each other. We always fought in high school and it went on for quite a while until Mrs Lee set me up on this blind date and it was with your father. At first we found it ridiculous, but after that first date, I realized that maybe your father wasn’t as bad as I thought. And so, we started to slowly understand the process of loving someone and soon enough, we fell in love. Love doesn’t always come to you directly. Sometimes, you need to find it yourself.”

She paused, studying your facial expressions carefully to make sure you weren’t angry or about to burst at her for the next thing she was planning to say.

“Can you promise me something sweetie?”

“Anything… Anything at all mom.” You said with a glint of hope in your eyes.

“Can you promise me that you’ll marry Mrs Lee’s son? I don’t care when. Just… as long as it’s him. Even if I’m not around anymore...”

“Mom-”

“Please? For me?”

Your heart broke hearing her pleading voice. You don’t understand why she was so persistent in you marrying him but for now, you couldn’t bear to say no. You couldn’t bear to break her heart. So, with a heavy heart, you chose your mother’s happiness before yours.

“Okay mom… I promise. But you have to promise me too that you’ll be fine and that you’ll come back to me and dad, okay?”

“I promise, sweetheart. I love you so much.” She said.

“I love you too mom.”

That night when you came back to your old house, your dad greeted you at the door with a shocked look on his face. He asked you why you were there at such a late time so you explained to him that you got into a big fight with Sangyeon and that you wanted to stay there for the next few days. Of course your father was happy that he would finally have someone in the house with him, but he was also worried that Sangyeon would be concerned over you.

You told him not to tell Sangyeon anything and that you wanted time away from him for now, in which your dad just nodded understandingly. The next few days, you spent your days diligently avoiding Sangyeon as much as you can despite being in the same campus. Lucky for you, he had very different schedules than you.

Which means, better chance for you to avoid him and not accidentally bump into him on campus grounds. And so far, your plan is working.

It’s been at least 3 weeks since you last went home to your shared place with him and you were starting to run low on your clothing supply back at your old house. Which means, you probably had no choice but to go back there now.

In all honesty, you weren’t mad at him anymore.

You were just too stubborn to face him after that argument. But it looks like you have no other choice now.

Hence, the reason why you were currently standing outside your doorstep at 8pm, noticing the vehicles parked outside your gates. By the looks of it, those probably belonged to his friends. And you were right. Because the minute you unlocked the door, you were immediately greeted by the chattering and laughter coming from the living room.

You walked in further, carefully after taking off your shoes and placing them in the shoe rack. Right when you had just made it by the end of the hallway and the living room was in full view, that’s where you saw the 6 figures scattered around the room.

The TV was playing a movie while the coffee table was filled with boxes of pizzas and other snacks for them to munch on.

Before you could speak up, two of them noticed your presence, making the blonde haired one to say hi, “Oh, hi Y/N.”

With that, the rest of them finally turned around upon hearing their friend greet you. Sangyeon, who was standing right in front of the TV, checking the cables, whipped his head around only to lock eyes with you. He froze in his spot, unsure if this was real considering you’ve been avoiding him like a plague the past 3 weeks.

“Y/N…” Was the only thing he managed to whisper under his breath as you awkwardly chuckled, hoping you didn’t create an unsettling atmosphere for them.

“Hey…” You whispered as he carefully made his way to you. The moment he was standing right in front of you, neither of you spoke. Both of you are afraid of saying the wrong thing which could potentially lead to another argument. But Sangyeon was smart enough to know not to make unnecessary comments to you after what happened the last time. So instead, he opted for an apology.

“Listen, about that night… I- I’m really sorry… I didn’t... I didn’t know.”

You could only give him a small smile that he could clearly see was weak and almost drained as you spoke up, “It’s okay. Anyways… I think I’m gonna rest.”

He simply nodded, resisting the urge to pull you into a hug and tell you how sorry he was for treating you like crap all these while. These past 3 weeks have made him realise that he wasn’t the nicest of people to you, that he said a lot of things that had definitely hurt you in the past, that he has been nothing but mean to you.

Upon hearing your bedroom door close, Sangyeon lets out a defeated sigh before walking back to his friends who then asked him if everything was okay. After he told them that everything was indeed okay, he plopped back down on the couch but it seemed to worry his friends seeing how sad Sangyeon looked at the moment.

Whenever he was with them, he has always been the goofy, savage, often picking on the others to get a reaction out of them, kind of guy. They’ve never properly seen this softer side of him.

It’s been nearly an hour since you came home and yet, he hasn’t caught a single glimpse of you anywhere. He got worried for you, not knowing whether you’ve eaten or not. So he decided to check on you. He got up from the ground to excuse himself, telling them to just continue what they were doing.

When he arrived at your supposedly shared bedroom, he found you seated on the window couch just staring into the night sky. However, before he could even knock on the door and push it wider, he heard soft sobs from you that gradually grew louder. He stayed by the door and unintentionally listened to your whispers.

“I miss you mum… I’m sorry if I couldn’t live up to my promise just like you wanted me to. I know I’m not the best wife to him, but I’m trying… I’m trying… for you. I wish you were still here beside me. To guide me on how to be a good wife. To love someone without feeling trapped. To love someone the way you and dad loves me. I’m so sorry mum… I’m so truly sorry…”

Sangyeon’s heart shattered into a million pieces for you. That’s when he realized that his feelings for you had changed. That all he wanted to do right at this very moment was to protect you. You were broken, fragile and yet, he’s been treating you horribly all these while.

He couldn’t take it any longer. With that being said, he carefully and quietly made his way to you. Not making a sound as you had your head buried in your knees, cries getting louder the closer he came to you. However, when you felt his soft hands caress the sides of your arms, you looked up. Your eyes glistened under the moonlight, your cheeks soaked with your freshly falling tears.

At that moment, you looked so vulnerable.

So when he pulled you into his embrace, you easily let him. Burying your face into his chest as he gently rubs circles onto your back, caressing your head comfortingly.

After a few seconds of silence, you finally whispered against his chest. Just loud enough for him to hear, but soft enough that nobody standing outside the door could hear.

“I miss her Sangyeon…”

Sangyeon wasn’t sure how to respond to your confession but he tried as best as he could to make you feel better.

“And I know that she misses you too. But it’s okay, she will always be with you. You’ll be okay… I promise.” He whispered and almost immediately, you pulled back as he frowned in confusion.

“You shouldn’t promise me anything…” You said, your tears slowly getting lesser and lesser by the minute.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the last time someone made me a promise, they promised me that they’ll be okay and that they’ll never leave me… And yet she did...” Your voice hushed. He could tell that that was your trauma. Making promises.

He felt a tear threatening to roll down his cheek but he managed to hold back. Sangyeon softly reached up to cup your face and caress your cheeks with both thumbs before he spoke up, “I’m sorry she did. I’m sorry that promise got broken. But it’s not her fault. You know it wasn’t. So let me make a promise to you now and this time, it won’t be broken.”

With that being said, you cried even harder as he just pulled you against his chest almost cradling you like a child. After almost 20 minutes in the room, he finally let go of your fragile figure and asked if you wanted to eat.

You told him you weren’t hungry and that you just wanted to rest. Sangyeon nodded, bringing you to the bed as he carefully tucked you in to make you cosy. He was about to leave you alone when you grabbed his wrists. Sangyeon turned around with such a soft gaze on you, it nearly melted you.

“Where are you going?” You asked with a soft voice, almost shy. Sangyeon found it so endearing that he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“I’m gonna go back to the boys and maybe call it a night early.” He smiled, to which you felt his other hand come to wrap its fingers around your extended wrist, gently pulling it away before caressing the back of your wrist with his thumb.

“Can you come back after… please?” You whispered as you saw him smile again before putting your hand down on the mattress softly.

“I will.”

Soon enough, Sangyeon left you in the room to rest for a bit while he went back to his friends and relayed the message to them. Thankfully, the boys were very understanding. They told Sangyeon to send their well wishes to you in which he definitely would. After they left, Sangyeon went ahead and cleared the leftover trash.

Silently thanking the boys for cleaning most of the mess up before he even came back into the living room. He was almost done cleaning, not forgetting to brush his teeth before going back to your room only to find you already asleep with your back facing the door.

Sangyeon couldn’t help but smile as he closed the door behind him and soon made his way quietly to the other side of the room.

He carefully pulled the duvet up, climbing into bed after putting the duvet back down.

He very gently lifted your head up to let his right arm slide under your neck as a pillow, proceeding to pull your body closer against his chest. Once you were both in a comfortable position, he gently wrapped his other hand around your waist. Caressing your side in a comforting manner.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispered as he soon drifted off into slumber.

Ever since then, both of you had stopped the constant arguments. You weren’t always annoyed by every little thing the other did. In school, when you’d accidentally bump into one another, either one would smile and acknowledge the other. Some people who witnessed this, found it strange but your close friends didn’t.

It’s been a good 4 months since you’d reconciled with Sangyeon. Though there were disagreements at times, those arguments would however, be resolved as quickly as it came.

But one thing’s for sure, is that during the past 4 months, you and Sangyeon had slowly found yourselves falling for each other. Neither of you said it out loud, but apparently those around you could visibly tell. Especially your friends.

It was a Thursday afternoon, you and the girls were just walking to the lunch hall when Lisa spotted Sangyeon and his friends just walking down the main building. It seems like they were heading towards the lunch hall as well. With that being said, Lisa called out to Sangyeon’s name, causing him and the rest to turn.

The minute Sangyeon’s eyes locked on Lisa’s and then on you, his gaze softened as you saw the corner of his lips curving upwards into a cute smirk.

They stopped walking to let you girls catch up and once you did, Lisa immediately went to Juyeon and began talking to him casually. The other girls went to walk with the rest while you came to a quick stop beside Sangyeon before you continued walking with the others ahead of you.

“How was class?” He asked, his arm accidentally brushing against yours as you walked further down the building.

“Horrible. Can you believe he wants us to submit 10 codes by the end of this week? I swear that man wants me dead.” You groaned in annoyance, only to hear him chuckle. But what he said next, caught you by surprise.

“But I don’t want you dead.”

With that, you turned to him as a small smile appeared on your face despite the frown you had. Both of you walked in silence, just basking in the conversations of your friends when you felt a soft tickling feeling on your fingers.

You glanced down to see that his hand was playfully brushing against your fingers, making you look up to catch him already staring at you.

Sangyeon smiled at you innocently, not sure if he wanted to say anything else until he felt you slide your hand into his, lacing your fingers with his easily. Now it was his turn to look down and then back up at you. All he did was chuckle, a sound you could definitely get used to.

A week passed and it was finally the weekend. You and Sangyeon didn’t have anything planned for the day.

Or at least you thought.

You were just lounging on the couch on a beautiful Saturday evening when Sangyeon came over to plop down beside you with a cheeky smile on his face.

“You’re oddly happy? What’s going on?” You asked with a raise of your eyebrow.

“I have a surprise for you but you have to go get ready okay?”

“Get ready? It’s already 7 o’clock. Where can we go?” You asked but all you got was a soft whine from him telling you to just do it. You opted to listen as he reminded you to wear prettily. You weren’t sure where you were going so you didn’t want to either overdress or underdress.

So you opted for simple denim skinny jeans, a baby blue sleeveless top, a white long knit cardigan and a pair of beige chunky heeled sandals.

When you left your shared bedroom to go to the living room, you were surprised to see him dressed handsomely in his black skinny jeans, a white button down shirt with the first few buttons undone, along with a navy blue bomber jacket. You saw him look at your outfit from head to toe, only for him to smirk playfully at you.

“Damn, who knew my wife could look this beautiful?” Sangyeon teased, making you giggle.

“Sangyeon, I literally wear jeans everyday.”

“Exactly.”

When you realized what he was trying to say, you soon found yourself blushing as you walked over to him and gently slapped his chest with your hand. Urging him to go before you slapped that cute smirk off his face.

Sangyeon couldn’t help but laugh but nonetheless left the house in his matte black Bentley. You watched as he drove down the street, bringing you to a part of the city where you don’t remember going to before in your life. The car ride was filled with jokes and laughter coming from both of you. He distracted you too much to the point where you didn’t even notice you were already at the location he wanted to bring you.

You looked out the window and that’s when you realize, “Is this an outdoor cinema?” You gasped when you saw the open field with a large screen at the centre, along with the endless rows of couples seated on their own blankets with snacks and drinks of their preferences.

“Sangyeon… This is…” You were speechless and he could see.

He chuckled as he just stared at you with such endearment in his eyes. Some people would just call it love.

“It’s wonderful.” You finally got to finish your sentence, turning to him with a smile.

“I’m glad you think so. Now let’s go! The movie’s about to start.”

Two hours had passed and you were now a few minutes in of the second movie. You noticed some couples were starting to get comfortable on their blankets. You were starting to get tired just sitting up straight and Sangyeon noticed your subtle shifts, desperate to find a comfortable sitting position.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. I’m okay, just a little tired from sitting up.” You explained with a bashful little smile. Just then, Sangyeon thought of an idea that was completely beyond your imagination.

Hence, when he patted the space in between his legs, you glanced down and then back at him who was seen smiling softly to you. None of it was making you feel creeped out. In fact, you felt safe and that you could trust him. After all, he was your husband anyways. Of course you trust him.

“Come here.” He said as he stared at you calmly. He wasn’t sure if you were entirely up for this but before he could take his words back, that’s when he saw you carefully crawling towards the space he patted earlier.

Once you were seated in front of him, Sangyeon scooted forward a little before he slid his arms around your waist.

He soon pulled you against his chest, before he whispered in your ear, “Comfortable?”

You turned your head to look at him but instead got slightly flustered by the close proximity that led you to feeling his lips accidentally brush against your own. You got quiet for a moment, praying that he didn’t hear the way your heart was pounding against your chest.

You couldn’t trust your voice so you opted for a soft hum to answer his question. The next few minutes, you found yourself getting more and more comfortable in his arms, putting your hands on top of his forearms as you unconsciously caressed his skin in a calming manner. All the while, Sangyeon was behind you, completely distracted from the movie in front of him.

Instead, his mind was fuzzy with how close you were to him at that very moment. This was something he never thought would happen back when he was still young.

But now that he was here with you, just cuddling at an outdoor movie theatre, he couldn’t help but want more of this. Sangyeon found himself smiling as he couldn’t help but give your sides a gentle squeeze, telling you that he was there with you and that he would never leave you.

Thankfully, you got the silent message.

Because right after he did that, you turned your head to look at him. His eyes held the galaxy. You found yourself getting lost in his eyes.

Both of you were silent but it wasn’t awkward. You didn’t know what came over you but a sense of confidence washes over you. With that being said, you carefully leaned forward to close the gap and soon pressed your lips on his.

To say he was taken aback slightly, is definitely an understatement.

But it took him less than 3 seconds to finally move his lips against yours in a smooth rhythm. You brought your right hand up to gently cup his face as you kissed him.

Sangyeon tightens his hold on you, pulling away from the kiss only to look into your eyes with such adoration. He wasn’t sure if now was the right time to express his feelings for you, but he thought, what was there to lose. So with that thinking, Sangyeon took a small breath before he uttered the 3 words he never thought he’d say to you but he did. And every single word he said at that moment, was as sincere as ever.

“I love you.”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at him before you kissed him again in a longing kiss before pulling away and replying to him with the exact emotions you felt for him genuinely.

“I love you too, Sangyeon.”

~~~

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