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taegularities · 3 months ago

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you're okay | myg (m)

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: s2l/est. rel.; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: this one's heavy :') pov switches, switching between past and present, reference to the d-day documentary, mental health issues, therapy, depression and anxiety, mentioned unaliving attempt, mentions of fainting, slight mention of SA, implied panic attack, lots of trauma, lots of sadness, healing journey/healing with yoongi, feelings of loneliness, feeling unworthy, oc is very unsure and thinks she's a burden, tears and crying; explicit sexual content: (brief) protected sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, kissing/making out. please heed the warnings <3 ➳ word count: 11.5k ➳ a/n: hi hi. not the average taegularities fic, i think. once again, please do note the warnings before reading. it's okay if it's too heavy and you need breaks – take care of yourself. it's a very very personal piece that i just needed to get out of my system. yoongi's snooze inspired it; i still cry when i listen to it – i'm thankful it saved me in so many ways, and i hope you feel the same way about this fic. i love you all; here's to healing and living 💕 ➳ listen to: snooze by agust d ft. ryuichi sakamoto & woosung 🤍

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

The weather changes at warp speed these days.

When you left just this morning, it was raining buckets. The shower barely allowed a glimpse at the sky, grey as smoke; ominous clouds were bursting, fast cars and busy passengers on the sidewalk rushing through the world.

You were one of them, not necessarily impressed by the downpour. But you smiled when someone halted, stretching an arm to force the doors of the bus open until you were inside.

The tender gesture lit up your gloomy morning, a proof of how the world isn’t all misery and ruin. For a couple minutes and hours, that stranger’s smile lifted the weight off your leather jacket clad shoulders. You were burdened by nothing but the bag hanging on your side.

But now, the same jacket is draped over your arm and feels much heavier than before; stripped off when the sun broke through the clouds around the afternoon. The additional weight gives you grief; you’re relieved when you hang it onto a rack, step out of your shoes and drag yourself to the bathroom.

God, all actions seem so passive these days.

Passive and automatic, just half-conscious. You’re fatigued and lost in your head. Frankly, you need your bed. You hate that you still need to shower. You wish you could skip that part and still keep your body healthy and clean.

And as you stand under the water, shifting your balance to the right leg and back, you realise that another work day is over and another one is coming. Interactions, productivity, the craving your bed. You need the weightlessness.

So much so that you soon feel the knot in your chest, intensifying, and the heat of the water combines with an uncomfortable breathlessness until your knees bend a little. Immediately, you plant your palms against the bathroom tiles, taking a seat on the shower floor.

You cross your legs; the thought of your father is immediate because he always taught you to take a seat wherever once you start feeling dizzy. Since that one adolescence day when you passed out and hurt your chin, you have followed this advice and prevented worse.

Your head spins for a moment, your chest tight; and you hear a dull thump. There’s an odd rustle in your ears, mixed with the sound of the dripping water; so you don’t notice the call of your name right away.

Keeping your answer absent for another moment, you only wrap your arms around your chest, just to keep yourself whole. You feel like your body might fracture into a dozen pieces.

The shampoo bottle that presumably caused the thump before rolls against you, and you gasp in uncomfortable surprise; immediately hear another slurred, “Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

It's him; he’s always worried. Maybe that’s what you’ve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you never suffer alone whenever the weight on your shoulder and brain drags you down too far.

A worried voice chimes again, breaking the sound of the shower jet, and you suddenly become hyper aware of his concern, rushing to finally get out. You exclaim a reassuring, “All good!” before the silence can prolong or betray you.

His calls stop, probably relieved when you add another, “Coming.”

You envelop your body in your towel; just a moment later, he knocks. You would’ve opened even if he hadn't.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and breathes in the sauna-esque air. His mouth turns into a surprised circle, and he blinks before he blows out a breath and states, “You showered hot today, huh?”

“Mhh,” you hum, “the sun never keeps me from doing so. Feels good.”

He smiles, watches your lotioned hands hydrate your skin, very slowly and very delicately. When you sigh in something he interprets as fatigue, he asks, “Do you need help?”

Four simple words, but they soothe something in your wrinkly, grey brain. The knot of stress loosens just a little, and you sigh deeply, telling him, “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to step behind you, picking up the pink, wooden brush lying on the laundry basket next to you to release the knots in your wet hair. For a couple of minutes, you indulge in the massage; and then wallow in the feeling of his hands on your face, taking over to do your skincare.

And then, gentle as he is, he helps you into your clothes. You feel somewhat pathetic, but most of all, thankful — anything to get through the night.

“You all set?” he asks once he’s done, palms on your shoulders. You touch the digits of his left hand, leading them to your lips to kiss them softly before you nod.

You follow him into the living room, detecting the still present sunrays protruding through the spots that the sheer curtains don’t filter. It’s not dark yet, but the light is slowly fading. The star is preparing to drown behind the horizon, dusk in motion.

The pretty hues give you a brief yet strange burst of motivation; often, you fear the night more despite its serene reputation. Too dark, too haunting.

Yoongi has already set the table; he starts to ladle the sundubu-jjigae into your bowl, rice in another smaller dish next to it. You sit; you feel endlessly indebted and silently terrified at once. The food looks amazing, so the taste isn’t the problem.

Your boyfriend is a good cook, and you thank the deities every day for his existence. It was much harder to get by and assemble a meal when you lived alone.

But your expression is still the opposite of what it’s supposed to be, and when he sees it, he asks, “You good? Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then eat a little, okay? As much as you can.”

You gulp, oblige. You know your body calls for it, so you listen to it, chewing a couple bites, even though it feels impossible to actually swallow. God; you need to stop your chest and stomach from trying to convince you that everything is heavy.

Your clothes, your heart, your thoughts.

You know it isn’t true. It drives you mad when your own brain proves this treacherous, attempting to lie to you like this.

Then again, energy dwindles faster these days. Your body knows; maybe that’s why you feel tired. You need to sleep — maybe that could help you feel a bit more feathery.

But shit, you wish there was a more efficient charger for human beings than sleep, so you could be productive. Your mind won’t let you sleep properly anyway.

“Is it good?” Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts. He’s always the first to notice when you’re overexerting yourself, even just at dinner.

“It’s very good,” you respond truthfully, even raising your voice to make yourself sound livelier, “as I’d expect from you.”

“Then I’m glad. Thought I’d make you something good, since you worked longer.”

“Always attentive, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.” His spoon drops in his bowl, and he reaches out, touching your cheek just long enough for your heart to stir. “How was work?”

Hm…

You don’t remember too well. You know you went there at least, and you know you did whatever you had to — but you can’t recall details. So all you say without dousing the atmosphere in negativity is, “As always.”

“Was Nayeon at work today?”

“Nope,” you tell him, sending wordless, good vibes towards your best work buddy. “Still sick. A stomach bug, I think. I really hope she feels better soon.”

“Sana again then?”

“Yeah, spent most of the day with her. She’s always so sweet, though… I should talk to her more often.”

You dig into your rice again, trying it with a bigger bite this time. Then, you shake your head in apology, looking back at Yoongi as you ask, “Ah, I’m sorry, baby… how was work for you?”

“As always,” he echoes, “thought of you a lot.”

“Mhm… obsessed much?” you jest, trying a little beam.

“You know me.”

That’s it. You nod; you understand the weakness of your smile, so you lower your head altogether. He sees; of course he does. Yet, he waits and watches you toy with your food. You know the question is approaching before it lands, “Another low?”

Another low…

You could cry. You could burst into tears immediately if you didn’t feel so… empty. A vacant soul, pieces coloured by nothing but him. Yoongi sparks the magic most of the time, even drilling through the numbness.

“Yeah,” you whisper, not crying yet, but the corners of your mouth drop. “It’s been a while.”

“Months, yes? Which is great, my love.” His voice is so mellow, deep, like an antidote. “You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah.”

You are. Because at one point in your life, you used to feel this way all the time. Ever since you found somebody to rely on, someone who listens, you’ve gotten a bit better. He puts you together as if he’s resolving a dispersed puzzle.

But certain phases at certain times still hit you unexpectedly, like a revved up truck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoongi offers.

“There’s nothing really to talk about…”

“Okay. Do it if you need to, though, okay? Eat a little more?”

You do. Fuck, you feel so babied sometimes; you wonder if he discerns things like this, too. That he isn’t really taking care of and loving his girlfriend, but rather babysitting a broken child.

You whoosh the thought away with a blink, finishing more than half of your meal before you set the cutlery aside. You down the last bite with cold water, sauntering to the bathroom, and then meet Yoongi on your bed.

He probably already put the food in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher; he must’ve operated rapidly to be here already, awaiting you. The laptop is open and its screen bright, and you know without stepping onto the mattress that he’s opened YouTube.

Less for him, more for you.

If he wanted to spend the remaining minutes of the night scrolling through reels, he could easily do so on his phone. But no… this feels more like an invitation. A quick, sweet date before sleep, just to watch a few animal videos that rarely ever fail to make you smile.

As you crawl into him, watching cats protecting newborn babies or dogs jumping their owners affectionately, you do smile. You laugh, even. You feel somewhat at ease here with him, but you know you’ll go back to ground zero in the morning.

When you’ve left and he’s gone to work.

And you hate it. You hate that you’re dependent on him like this… Yoongi calls it finding comfort in somebody you love, and you don’t disagree. But adding to this, you think you’re limiting his options by shackling yourself to him.

By demanding that comfort.

You sigh in his arms, breathing calmer than before, but not enough to sleep. Yet, he asks, “Hey… sweetheart. Are you awake?”

“I am.”

“I’m just thinking… Do you want me to call the therapist tomorrow?”

Shit… why does the ball of guilt keep growing? How does he think of this and you don’t? Have you really sunk this deep again? You’re stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I… I should do it myself,” you mumble.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, I’ll just do it in the morning. I think I should… do things for myself, too, right?”

He pauses. Ponders your words; or at least, that’s what you surmise from the way he breathes and sighs and hums. And you’re proven right when he inquires, “Do you feel like I mind doing things for you?”

Yes. No.

No, you do not think so. But you sure as hell waste his time. Occupy it with this nonsense when he could be happier somewhere else, living his life, making plans for the future and rambling about the job he loves.

But no…

Fucking calling the therapist for you.

You break.

It always happens in the worst moments; you don’t know what it is, how it happens, but you break. Hard. Your motions stop, maybe even your breathing. But then you do sigh, so deeply that it burns, trying to keep your voice from shaking, to keep the tears at bay.

But this time, it doesn’t work. Emotions heightened when Yoongi utters something he’s provided as a reminder over the years, “Don’t hold back.”

So you don’t.

There were days when this lesson was necessary, a gentle nudge to release the weight, and today is one of them. You weep, starting with soft whimpers that grow louder steadily, and you press into his chest until you're suddenly sobbing.

You sniffle with an aching head, holding onto him for dear life, barely noticing when your sobs, once again, morph into absolute wailing.

He embraces you, tighter with each inhale and exhale. You’re so impossibly close to him, garbling something that he doesn’t understand. His voice is pain-struck and trembling when he encourages, “Come again, baby? Talk to me.”

It takes a while; it doesn’t work. And then, he chants, “God, baby. My baby… it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No!” you cry out, slurring your words, “No… am a burden. Am fucking burdening you…”

This is a clear thought, isn’t it? Even in a moment like this, you think it’s true. And that maybe…

Maybe you should’ve never agreed to the lunch he offered you all those years ago. You would miss everything good in your life, lose the one thing you so cherish, but you’d at least rid him of you.

Those long six years ago, you should have just told him you were fine.

As a student, Yoongi always trod the same path from the second floor down to the entrance of the college, living into a routine — never really noticing much of significance. He’d see other students who’d be eating; talking; rushing to class.

And as a TA, Yoongi was used to another, different journey throughout the building, too; climbing down the same spiral staircase, hurrying through the scary, empty mezzanine, passing the same few rooms on the ground floor.

He’d prepare to go home or to the library after attending his favourite psychology professor’s classes, assisting him to his best abilities. But this was different from all the other familiar routes he’d grown accustomed to.

These Wednesday afternoons did offer something of significance. Someone of significance.

Because every time he reached those rooms on the ground floor, you’d be there.

At first, he reckoned you always waited for your class to start, just at the time when his ended. But you were alone each time. The doors to the classrooms and lecture halls were all closed, and then there was you, a sole soul waiting for whatever miracle to appear.

It took a couple weeks for him to gather that you might not have been supposed to be there. He noticed it when he saw your eyes fixated on a spot, pupils never moving an inch, even when he walked past. At some point, he’d memorised just this expression on your face.

And then, bit by bit, he realised that your stance didn’t seem quite normal. Your eyes were dead, hands never flinching. You emanated a sense of loneliness and stupefaction that he couldn’t express in words.

Today, something in him stirred. Perhaps because he’d just covered social behaviour as a topic or perhaps because any proper human would recognise that something was wrong with you.

Your hands were holding a lidless cup that day, barely steaming anymore. You were blinking slowly, if at all. This time, he approached you with care, as if nearing a wounded deer; as if trying to keep it there and not frighten it away.

But when he leaned into you, a hand scarcely touching your shoulder, your head moved up to look at him slowly but surely. And your first reaction to him ever was a smile.

You remember that when you first looked at him, like really looked at him, his face seemed familiar to you. You were sure you’d seen him before, even if just in passing. He had this long, pretty, dark hair, covering his neck, a couple inches above his shoulders.

A kind face. A calm demeanour.

He stood there with pure relaxation between his eyebrows; one you hadn’t felt in a while despite your falling face. Flawless porcelain skin, free of dark circles, free of exhaustion. When did you last look like this?

You smiled at him instinctively, a curious expression; you couldn’t guess at all what he wanted or needed, but you were ready to listen. You’d always listen to people — listen, listen, listen. Perhaps that was the exact problem.

This very attention towards him, coming this easily, made your shoulders sink in new dejection; everything did. Every thought was intrusive, unwelcome, too stretched for your liking.

Whenever you had a normal thought or a bad one that’d at least pass immediately, you considered it a good day.

But you felt a tension around your temples by now; your head never felt at ease.

Yet, you asked, “Yes?”

And he wondered in return, “Are you okay? You looked distracted and I thought I might ask.”

“Oh… that’s nice,” you commented, your voice a bit too quiet yet surprised; you cleared your throat, spoke up, “but I’m okay. I just sit here sometimes after my classes.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. To take a little break after all the information dump, yeah. I’ll go home soon, though, no worries.”

“Hm… yeah. I just,” Yoongi started, hesitant — you now know he was trying to reveal something without appearing creepy. “I noticed you here a few times, so I wanted to ask just to be sure.”

He saw you here? You? And he came up to talk to you, just because he’d noticed you before? Baffling. You didn’t think you were visible to anybody. You thought you faded in front of others’ eyes.

“You’re honestly so nice,” is all you said, hoping your eyes didn’t reveal too much. How much his words affected you, and how they made you think you were just a little, a tiny bit perceptible.

“Sure,” he responded, nodding. And when you failed to come up with more appreciative words, he prepared to move, bidding you goodbye with a single, “Okay…”

Then, he was walking away; as grateful as you were, your energy-lacking body forced your eyes shut. You drew a deep breath. These few words you’d exchanged with him took everything out of you — that was the worst part of all this.

Interaction drained you. Loneliness drained you. The world and life were all draining, and you couldn’t figure out anymore how to feel… awake. Sober without ever drinking.

When your eyes closed, you felt your surroundings starting to spin. Or maybe, it was you; as if someone had gripped your shoulders and was turning you in circles. There were so many weird particles behind your eyelids.

The rotation was insane, but nothing new. Shut down most of your other senses and people’s voices; like the one that returned a second later, the same as before. Shit. Had he seen you struggle? Was he seeing something nobody else ever would?

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the stranger with the familiar face asked, concern in his voice. “You don’t look like it.”

What was it? What was it about his gentle, low voice that lured you in? What was it about his attentive tone that made you want to tear up? Maybe because you’d bottled things up for so long.

But you held the liquid locked in your eyes. Proudly, barely.

“I’m…”

You considered lying. You considered pulling a lame excuse out of your ass. But something in you snapped, snapped hard, and the truth spilled just before you could think twice—

“If I’m being honest… I’m feeling pretty faint… I often do? I usually just need to sit down a bit or I’ll pass out.”

You hated using the word usually. As though your condition had become irreparable, like a chronic illness; and you were stating its treatment, only temporary.

“Hmm…” he hummed. “Have you eaten?”

“Not much…”

“Then that might be it,” he concluded, content with the deduction. In hindsight, you think he was hoping it was only that, nothing more. “Do you have something with you?” You shook your head. “Are you getting something?”

You shrugged.

You could’ve easily told the truth and said no; that the appetite was absent, that you were going to go home and hardly remember how you got there. That you’d throw your bag on the couch, take off all your clothes, not really bother for a shower and jump into your bed.

Then, you’d breathe. Survive.

You didn’t have the energy to eat, to shower, and right now, somehow not even to lie. The remainder of it had been used in today’s class and in this conversation.

He knew you couldn’t come up with any bad justification, so he offered, “Listen… I still have this sandwich with me that I was going to eat after class. You can have it if you want.”

What? That was…

“Oh, no,” you blurted, raising a hand to reject, “you should eat if you haven’t yet.”

“Look, I totally get being selfless, but you don’t look good and…” He sighed, tilting his head. Eyebrows raised and expression suddenly stricter. “If I can help anyhow, I’d rather have that than anyone else finding you unconscious here later. Please?”

How could you’ve resisted such a plea?

He was taking care of you and he didn’t even know you. And your body understood; your body heard him. Because your stomach grumbled at the mention of the meal; it didn’t mean anything to you, but it meant something to your hungry, craving body.

It often did that. Wishing to eat; then, not letting you swallow a bite.

You grabbed your bag and warily, carefully got to your feet. The man lifted a hand in caution, as if expecting for you to lose your balance. You did, just a little, swaying until you’d grounded yourself.

Goddamn it.

You nodded with a deep exhale and followed him as he suggested, “Let’s go to the courtyard. Get some fresh air. We can eat there and talk… or not talk if that's what you want.”

You kept moving your head up and down, fine with whatever. The fronts of it hurt due to the lack of nutrition; it was past four pm and you’d only eaten a damn banana.

He found you a shadowy spot away from the sun; it was late spring, the summer steadily approaching. The shade protected your tired eyes, guarded you from further headaches.

As you plumped onto the grass next to him, your fingers grazed it for a moment — and it felt good against your skin. A pleasant combination, the wind and the scent of grass; nearly freed your chest of the stuffy pain.

You watched his soft fingers fish out the sandwich, and then some salted peanuts for himself. Urged you to eat before spilling a handful of the nuts into his palm. God, you felt horribly guilty, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him to share the meal.

He… didn’t even seem to mind a bit.

Wiping his hand on his pants, he finally introduced, “I’m Min Yoongi. Psychology student and TA. Judging from your spot every single Wednesday afternoon, you take psychology classes, too?”

“I do… yeah.”

You took a bite enough for mouses, but then proceeded with a larger, human-appropriate one. Your stomach felt odd; Min Yoongi’s small talk helped you eat, but the nervous feeling in your chest that never really went away weighed heavily on your tummy.

You added, “Thinking of dropping it, though…”

“Why?”

“Because I might be failing anyway. Haven’t done much, and I still have a presentation on my paper left but have prepared nothing for it yet, either.”

“Have you asked the professor about a potential extension?”

Of course you’d thought about it. You always did. Which is why you despised having to answer, “No…”

No. Of course not. To most professors, mental health didn’t matter as an excuse.

You understood, though. They graded every paper they received, surrendering their free time, their summer and their winter breaks. To grant you special treatment was something you regarded as unnecessary; you didn’t think you were worth it.

“Do you feel like you could do better next term?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t know.”

Your sandwich was done and gone. You were still hungry; you felt the appetite all of a sudden. You knew it often came and went in waves, but somehow, the sandwich left you more pining than anything these days.

Yoongi saw as you licked your fingers clean of the mayonnaise; offered you some peanuts that you politely declined, greedy for something proper. Maybe you’d eat an actual dinner tonight.

After a while, Yoongi spoke, “Okay, I know I’m a stranger to you and everything, but if you want, I could try to help you.”

Shit, but… that would’ve meant putting in the effort. To get up, to meet him, to focus and to study. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do all that. You didn’t know how to—

But his eyes were so sincere; a pure dark brown, sparkling in hope, for whatever noble reason. And you thought… you thought…

If there was any chance to pass this class and get over with it, wouldn’t you feel a gigantic wave of relief wash over you? After so damn long? Wouldn’t it be worth it? Maybe a spark of hope ignited in your chest after all… maybe you could turn things around.

“Yeah…” you finally obliged. “Yeah, that’s really nice.”

“Great. Are you free this Friday afternoon?”

After that, it became part of your routine to meet up with Yoongi every Thursday or Friday, depending on his own schedule. A couple weeks passed like a breeze; or at least, compared to the days you were used to.

Some time later, those meetings increased, and you found a profound liking in them. You still often struggled with leaving your apartment at all, sometimes deeming getting out of bed or brushing your teeth an impossible task.

But whenever Yoongi called, offering a nearby café — always a nearby café — you’d place all your energy into moving, throwing on clothes, leaving. You felt unworried with him; at least for a couple hours.

He wasn’t just smart to an admirable degree; he was humorous, too. Motivating. Praised you for your ideas and your sharp mind. You’d forgotten you still had it in you — you thought time had altered your brain chemistry, killed too many of its cells to still let your mind operate.

Today, he didn’t suggest a café but a place you hadn't been to before. Yoongi had never invited you anywhere that wasn’t a public space, careful with your feelings without ever mentioning the obvious issues you had.

He only really crawled out of his shell and gave you the address to this new spot once you’d invited him over, too — he couldn’t make it, helping out the professor he assisted. But you reckon it was telling enough for him to understand how comfortable you’d grown with him.

So you went where he told you to go, and once you arrived, you recognised it as an office. A small one, but elegantly decorated, furniture sparse. And it wasn’t just any office. A therapist’s office.

“This is my mom’s,” Yoongi explained as you inspected the books on the shelf and the overall soothing and fitting atmosphere, “she’s out of town, so I thought we could study here today.

“Oh…”

He had to have heard your hesitancy, your uncertainty. This is the place they usually suggest in guidance books and in conversation to people like you. You didn’t know how to feel; the emotions washing over you were an odd sensation. Not good, not bad.

But scary, somehow.

Yoongi put a soft hand on your shoulder, making you turn, and asked, “Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah… it’s just… I’ve only really thought and read about therapy, but never quite seen an actual room like this.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “It’s crazy. How have I never been in one despite studying psychology for so long?”

“Hmm, many students haven’t been.”

“Yeah.”

You stripped your bag off of you, taking a seat on the cosy patient’s couch. Pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table between you and where he seated himself on the therapist’s chair.

Swallowing a strange lump, you cleared your throat, starting the study session with, “Okay, so… I was thinking about what you said about the research question last time.”

“Right…”

At this point, you couldn’t really fathom why, but he seemed reserved today, a little distracted. Still providing as much information and intellect as he could; but his thoughts were slower and his eyes gentler.

You think you studied barely forty-five minutes when Yoongi called for a break — unusual, because it was mostly you to announce a pause in thoughts, when your brain would demand a couple minutes of peace.

He sighed, hands touching his thighs and then got up to bring you something to drink. Came back with two cups of tea. You thought he’d be returning with a glass of water, but upon seeing the beverage, your eyes widened; you told him, “This is super nice of you, thanks.”

“Of course.” Pause. You slurped; then he did. A second later, he inquired, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

You waited. Nothing came. You took another sip of the fruity winter tea in the middle of summer, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat under your nose that the heat caused. Then you looked up, big eyes staring into his just in time to see his mouth open.

“You always seem so surprised when I’m nice to you.”

Ah…

He’d said he’d had a question, but the indication of an inquiry, the one lifting in tone at the end never came. His statement was his question. And you thought it wasn’t the first time you heard it; you just never noticed you were doing it again.

Yoongi left the conclusion there, and the question mark hung somewhere between the two of you. Unspoken, containing a silent, ”Why?”

So you answered, “I just… uhm. People don’t just do something like this for me without me asking. It’s new to me how attentive you are.”

Sad. Just sad. You hated having to actually echo your innermost thoughts; you knew this wasn’t normal.

He knew, too, because he said, “This… is not how things should be.”

“But this is how they ended up being. I mean it’s just tea. But I don’t think anybody else sees me sitting there and goes like, Okay, I’ll do this lil something for her, you know?”

“Which is insane. You deserve it all so much. More than anyone I know.”

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked. Those words were rare, not often uttered to you; how were you supposed to respond to them? You’d long forgotten how to react to things at all — it didn’t come too naturally to you anymore.

So all you did was laugh a little, as if replying to a joke. Genuinely, you wondered, “How can you say something like that?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you probably know so many people.”

Yoongi blinked at you, as if waiting for your argument to proceed; but when it didn’t, he lifted a shoulder, steadfast with his opinion as he answered, “So? What do you think? That you feeling that way about yourself makes everyone else feel that way about you, too?”

You shrugged your shoulders just an inch, imitating his motions. Your gaze fell, as though catching yourself spewing pure gibberish. He continued, “You have a pure heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being mean. And you’re strong, careful, and endure a shit ton.”

You looked up at him instantly. Let the last words reverberate in your mind, pushing them to the forefront between all your other messy thoughts. “Of course you knew,” you said.

“Of course. You’re so obviously hurt and I hate that you are.”

Well, you hated it, too. But…

Your desperation came out in a whisper, “I don’t know what to do about it…”

You put the cup back onto the saucer; your fingers were warm when you pushed them into your hair, pressing your palms against your forehead, holding onto your mane. Elbows on your thighs. The world spun again until you felt his hand on your arm once more.

“Hey.” He sounded softer again. “Do you want to take a longer break? We could stop for today and talk?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to. But it feels to me like you’ve never done that before… people don’t want to listen.” His words hit you like bricks. Like heavy cement bricks. The pain was excruciating. “Is that it?”

You were still staring at your lap when he posed the question; your head whirred, so you didn’t know where to start. Which is why you held onto the first complaint — you knew they were valid worries, but you always called them complaints, like you were a burden — and said,

“I just… I listen to everyone. I let people vent, I let them feel hurt, and I try to be there and lend a shoulder and just,” the words cascaded out of you like a wild waterfall; your throat clogged up again, “to be a good person and a good friend.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the pressure back in your chest. “But why do I not get any of it back? Why is it that everyone goes silent when I’m hurting? Do I deserve this somehow?”

You felt tears pricking and burning in your waterline, and you blinked them away. Took another quick sip just to help your dry throat. Then, “I hate that I sound selfish? Like I only do things for people to get love back, but… that’s not it. I just want to feel worthy of something, too.”

“You don’t sound selfish. It’s never wrong or inhumane to demand affection and care, and if it is, then… every person’s selfish. Whatever.”

Up until that point, you hadn’t known that someone could be this tender and direct at once. Yoongi lived in a reality that wasn’t sugarcoated, but he understood empathy and heartbreak, knew to dip his words in an ointment alleviating enough.

You wondered what he’d endured to become this type of person; sympathy and a mind this sage often stem from grief once encountered, and you so hoped he was an exception to this belief of yours.

You looked at him with delicate fondness, mixed with some lasting trouble. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know what came over you when you leaned into his palm, kept his gaze, and stayed in place when he moved in.

Kissed you.

And you didn’t know why, but the moment opened your heart as if it’d been locked before; he was the key, undoing the lock so easily. That was when the first tear rolled down your cheek, meeting his skin, and you started trembling as he moved his mouth against yours.

You couldn’t grasp why he was doing it; even if parts of you knew. Did he not care that you were broken? That you were still breaking? That the ache always consumed you, that you felt whatever your brain inflicted on you throughout your entire body?

Maybe not. He always said you were funny, sweet, never humorous at anybody’s expense.

It was different from the things you’d heard before.

Nobody will love you like this.

Stop acting like you’re traumatised.

I didn’t love you — I kept you because you were attractive. Because you let me.

You had always asked yourself: why had your feelings always been shoved aside when you voiced your opinion? Whenever it differed from the one in your family or your friend’s circle?

Why were you told to never open up about your childhood memories? When you were caged in; when somebody three times your age indulged in impudence when they shouldn’t have, long ago when you were a child; when you fell in love at a later age and were forced to let go?

Why were you told you were tainted, that you couldn’t get any affection like this, to keep your pain to yourself and forget about your past? And why was this sequence of nightmares plaguing you right now, like you were dying, just when he was kissing you…

Because you were scared. So scared.

If you told Yoongi any of this, would he bolt? Would you hurt yet another person? Would he see you as a shattered porcelain doll, distance himself from you? Because honestly, why would he stay at all; with someone who hasn’t healed, who’d pulled him underwater, too?

Yet, you didn’t say any of this. You sighed; leaned into him. Took residency in his heart, cried into him.

He kissed you for another second, and then backed away. Wiped your tears. You broke and broke until your voice broke, too, giving way to quiet sobs.

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

And somehow, the realisation hurt anew, deep in your core and beyond.

Your tears had mostly dried when he resumed his position, sitting in front of you. His fingers were entangled and he waited.

Yoongi knew you’d cry again, though. The patient’s couch had some magic to it, his mother always said. They’d always cry, but they’d heal at the same time. Recognise hidden parts of themselves.

He was uncomplaining and composed, and kept looking at you until you said, “It just feels… like I’ll never be enough. I can do as much as possible, but none of it is ever seen because I’m taken for granted.”

“Who takes you for granted?”

“Everyone. I’ve spent many nights awake for people, and they abandoned me. In a crowd, others will always be praised for one thing and I’ll be ignored for the same. It’s made me bitter.”

He nodded in true therapist fashion, but his expression wasn’t as neutral as one; he looked pain-struck for you. Said, “You’ve been hurt… I see that…”

“I’m… hurting,” you corrected, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Yoongi attempted a different approach; you were in a hopeless spiral, and the strategy he needed to try wasn’t just to dig out your trauma, but to make you familiar with the good parts of your life, too.

So he asked, sincerely hoping you had an answer to his question, “Who could you trust as you grew up?”

“I don’t know…” Yoongi’s chest deflated, motivation dropping — that is, until you muttered, “My brother.”

“Parents?”

“Part of the problem.”

Okay; your answers came more rapidly now. He took it as a good sign; as readiness to talk.

“Where’s your brother?” he wondered.

“In this town,” you answered, and Yoongi sighed in relief. “But I can’t bother him with all of my shit.”

Your symptoms were as typical as they could be; you regarded your self-worth as buried deep under the ground, never wanting to disturb those who still deemed you close and loved. You’d established this distance between you and the others; he didn’t blame you.

The symptoms were typical.

“Why do you think so?” Yoongi prodded, whispering your name when you didn’t answer.

“I’ve bothered them all enough…”

“How so?”

Maybe he was doing too much. But it seemed you were on board with it; you weren’t complaining, not sighing, not withdrawing. You were listening and talking. Nobody let you talk, and now that you were, you looked like you needed to let it out.

You spat, “Because they never seemed to want to hear anything.”

God…

It hurt to see you like this. Damp eyes, a heavily rising chest, as if you were close to panicking again, but desperately holding back. He knew it; he saw it in the way you drew your breaths and in the things you said.

He knew you’d braved multiple nights and many, many sleepless hours before, spending these dark moments clutching your chest, trying to get rid of the unbearably tight feeling in your chest.

He knew that torturous pressure. He’d been there before. The persistent feeling of fear and unease — like somebody had dropped a weight onto his ribcage and tied up his stomach. The shallow breathing and thumping heart would strip him off focus.

Thoughts circling and circling, around each other; absolute bullshit most of the time.

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed you felt, but then again, he could. Was the world louder to you, too? The way it used to be for him. Did you hear that constant screaming in your head?

Vulnerable, senses heightened, sensitive to the slightest change.

He hated the thought of a wall between you and your peace. Hated hearing the words you narrated; of your home, of your childhood, of the people you met. The disrespect you suffered and the dirt you were treated as.

You deserved none of it.

Maybe he felt that way because nobody ever deserved it; or maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Not because he needed to save you, or because he felt like falling for someone who he’d have to fix could be a welcoming challenge.

He knew people who treated depression like this; saviour complex in full effect, they needed to be the hero or heroine to stitch a broken heart.

No — he fell for you because you were you. Despite everything and every pain you endured, you were still you; and most of the you that you were before you got hurt this badly was still there, under the surface.

He saw those joyful parts of you reemerge sometimes, breaking through the waves. Sometimes, right before your head would fall again; your body weightless; drowning — he saw those parts on those days for a split moment.

But not right now.

In fact, the true parts of you that knew to feel happiness were absent now, and he knew — in that sense, he was prepared for you to utter what you said next. Was ready to hear it, no matter how little he actually wanted to hear it.

“And sometimes, when it got too much…” You gulped. Yoongi knew what you’d say; he knew. But— “I didn’t feel like being here anymore. It seems that was the only and last time I opened my family’s eyes.”

But when you still said it, it stabbed his heart like a dagger.

“Only, after that… it soon became irrelevant again,” you continued, “they told me I should be thankful for being alive and regret the mistake I made… what I tried.”

And you spoke on. Spoke on and on. He leaned back, allowing himself a better position to breathe. His heart felt like a sewing pin cushion, riddled with tiny holes. His eyebrows furrowed in agony, but he saw worse pain in your eyes.

Tears slowly reappeared.

“And when I was judged for this, too… I realised I didn’t regret ever trying to leave the world. I regretted that I’d failed to do so.”

Maybe he felt that way because nobody deserved it; maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you.

But your words split him in a million tiny shards, like glass, until his pieces became tiny enough to resemble dust.

”Am a burden… Am fucking burdening you…”

Yoongi’s voice defeats the others in your head just barely; as if you’re separated by a glass wall and hearing him from afar, only clearing when you hammer through it and break the surface. He’s quiet compared to your cries, a hand firmly on your back.

His grip around you wants to glue you together so desperately; he’s not letting go, even though you get restless soon, quivering and ruining his shirt.

“Hey, baby…” you hear him say, but you interrupt, obstinately shaking your head.

“No… I’m— I never should’ve let you this close and—”

“No.” It’s his turn to interject. And he does it with determination; tone suddenly so low, cold, so you silence. “Stop.”

You do, only now noticing that he’s imprisoning your wrists in his grasp. Not painfully, but still solidly enough for you to understand what he means. You confirm it for yourself when you look up.

You already know your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks thoroughly wet; but you still recognise the heavy breaths he draws. See something entirely different in his eyes than yours.

Pain.

You hurt him. And this time, you could once again lament your destructive behaviour, argue how you keep inflicting these shit ass feelings on him. But…

The ache in his expressions says something else entirely. Fills you with hope, fills you with guilt.

Shows you that he despises the thought of you possibly regretting this relationship. His gaze proves that he doesn’t. That if he could go back in time and meet you again, talk to you again, fall in love with you again — he would.

You know it because he’s said it before. You know.

But your brain is half melting, hurting, spitting all negative assumptions at you like nobody’s business.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you stammer, pierced by the sorrow in his eyes.

“What?”

“I… shouldn’t have said that,” you start, gulping. Your crying ebbs down for a second as you register the growing agony in his heart, and you explain, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I can’t stop thinking that…”

Break in conversation.

Then him again, “…That?”

“That you’d be better off without me. That you’re here so I stay alive and that you’d be less burdened with someone else…”

Another pause.

He stares at you, as if pondering his answer. Bites into his lower lip softly and releases it right away. Blinks, looks to your wrists, lets go of them and then whispers, “Do you want to know? What I’m thinking, do you want to know that, too?”

“…What are you thinking?”

“That it’s true that I’m burdened.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

The pain is searing, a burning arrow shooting through your heart. It’s what you expected and what you feared and what still hurts so much upon hearing and—

Are you crying again? Are you tearing up? You don’t know.

You’re not sure, but it does seem like you’re breaking once more when he shushes you carefully, touching your cheek. He calms you, and then speaks again—

“Of course I’m burdened, too. Yeah, of course. I’d be lying if I said seeing you like this doesn’t make me feel helpless… but do you know what it means that I’m still here?”

Your voice trembles when you speak, “Because you’re scared of leaving me in this condition.”

“No. I learned early enough to prioritise myself when I need to. No, I’m not leaving because I don’t want to — simple. Because I’ll share your, mine and the world’s damn pain along with my heart. ‘Kay?”

Retrospectively, his words sound logical. He said it’s simple, and in some way, it is. If you didn’t have the brain that you have, it would be. If you weren’t so neck-deep in the quicksand pulling you into doubts, you’d be less surprised at the finality in his tone.

“Baby—” you start, but he squeezes your hand, eyes glistening.

“We have enough enemies in this world. Don’t regard me as one, too. Okay? Please…”

“No, you’re not,” you defend, moving your head and the palm on your cheek along with it, “you’re anything but that.”

He nods, sniffling; you know he’s holding back the same salty, pouring liquid as you. He’s always done that, providing a sense of strength and safety to make you feel just that.

“We’ll be okay one day, love. The world hurts us a shit ton, and life is difficult, but…” His voice cracks here, and he waits to regain control, sighing. “We only get one of it and… it’d be so unfair if we were destined to stay like this, right?”

You don’t believe in divine beliefs that seemingly predetermine how your life plays out. Fate or destiny or whatever synonyms to notions that Jung or Freud believed in. You’ve heard of this stuff plenty in your studies, but it never affected your curiosity much.

You know Yoongi isn’t necessarily a representative of it either; not one to dive too deep into things that suggest the potential absence of a free will.

But the thought provides hope when nothing else does. You know. The fact that you can’t leave this world without fixing things; that you’re here to contribute to much larger and more important things.

You cannot have been born to spend your days here without the joy you deserve.

You’ve felt much of it thanks to Yoongi, but you’ve had too many setbacks to call this a proper life. You don’t want to end it like this. You don’t want to grow old like this.

And you want to gift him the life he deserves, too.

Fuck…

You need to get better. You need to get better. You need to get better.

You need to help yourself. Even if it takes time; even if the non-linear process of healing irks you, stealing hope and leaving anguish in turn. And it’s as if Yoongi reads your mind when he says—

“It’s okay, you know? To feel that way. It takes time. It doesn’t matter how much, but it’s okay to fall back and have ups and downs, as long as you don’t give up. Yes?”

“I can’t, I know… I— I won’t give up. I just… need you to be here.” Your voice is unsteady, and your heart is, too; fickle as can be. But you’d rather hang onto the aspiration right now… nothing else. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I’ll fix this for us, I will.”

“For yourself first. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

“…I love you.” Your breathing is staggered, leftover pain still keeping the anxiety in your chest. It’ll take a while. But there’s power in your admissions when you repeat, “I love you so much.”

You lean in carefully, and he mimes the movement, bending into your kiss. It’s a peck, soft and gentle and encouraging, and you murmur through your sniffles, “So, so much.”

And then you climb up, using all your strength. Half your body comes to a rest on his; the immediate proximity and warm touch evoke motivation and longing in your heart. For not only him, but every second of a possible serene future, too.

This very hope is often born and reborn at the end of your lowest lows. It’s what pulls you up again, keeps you going each time before the next valley can swallow you. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not.

But you so desperately want this. Want it to work now.

You want to be okay. Want to travel and soak in the sun. Want to dance in the rain and scream from the peak of a mountain; want to snorkel in clear, blue seas.

The life you picture for yourself, the one you follow in those healing vlogs on social media — it’s what you yearn for. It’s what you want to feel. With him on your side.

Sometime in the future, you see yourself beaming in genuine happiness, see yourself smiling. And you want to work towards it. You’ve always wanted to.

Ever since Yoongi first showed you what love, contentment and merriment felt like, you’ve craved this. Ever since that night he told you he loved you, despite everything.

Despite, despite, despite.

He was there to catch your fall when you couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore. When your knees weakened and the ground turned into clouds, and you plunged through them and towards the cemented earth that’d shatter you.

He aided you in staying whole. Let you lean against his shoulder, nodding off into a slumber there, allowing you to dream because until then, you didn’t dare to.

You thought dreaming was pointless; just a fabrication of the unconscious mind to distract you from the horrors of the world. To keep you occupied, to torture you even when asleep. As time passed, you started making these horrors your life, and the line between reality and fantasy thinned.

Until…

Until he turned those nightmares into daydreams. Blossoming, vibrant colours appeared where you’d perceived greys before. Somehow, you fell apart a lot less when Yoongi spent his time with you, taught you to love again.

You became less terrified by dreams then, because the content changed. And whenever you weren’t dreaming, away from sleep, you experienced the utopia you’d always sought.

The day Yoongi first told you he loved you, you’d long defeated the semester you’d so worried about; started and survived the one after; and were now already tackling your very last one.

Even after all these months, you never let him forget how grateful you were for passing the last summer semester eventually, and in return, he never let you forget that he’d stay even after.

You didn’t study all the time anymore either; now, your afternoons and nights were filled with gentle words, promising embraces, lips against lips. It took some time to truly open up. To stop feeling like you were making a mistake.

“Doing yourself to him,” you called it, as if you were about to hurl him into his very own mistake.

Even then, you wanted to get better for him; you knew it hadn’t and wouldn’t happen overnight. All of it was much easier said than done; healing sounds so doable for those who attempt to support those who need it, yet they cannot grasp the meaning of a broken heart and scared mind.

But there was something so wonderful about the simplicity between Yoongi and you. So simple that it called forth feelings so complex.

They were tough to navigate, but never tough to admit.

That March night, the sentiments roamed your body the clearest, even though the skies were anything but that. The thunder sounded like the universe had cracked; the white and silver of the striking lightning illuminated your room.

It was the night you felt hope in all its glory, for the very first time in years.

“You keep hiding from me,” Yoongi said, legs crossed like yours, sitting vis-a-vis.

He was close enough for your knees to collide, and when they did for the umpteenth time, he put a careful hand on your fingers resting on your thigh. You didn’t protest, so he didn’t withdraw.

“I’m not hiding from you. I just…” you stalled, “I just want you to be sure.”

“About you?”

If it had been this easy, you wouldn’t have asked. Because you knew the answer to this. Yoongi didn’t need to explain it to you; he was already certain about you to an indisputable degree.

You shook your head. Elaborated, “About everything. I don’t just come with the few good times we had the last couple of weeks. I come with… everything I’ve ever experienced and that shaped me into this.” You gestured over yourself. “You’d notice soon.”

“I already do.”

His answers and arguments came promptly, as if he knew the script to this talk and had already thought out every response he’d be giving. This was so effortless to him; thinking about it today, you wouldn’t even have needed to say a word.

But it was important to you. You couldn’t permit him to grow this attached without making sure.

“You just take it, do you? All that I am,” you concluded delicately; wanting to inform him, but so terrified of scaring him away. “But if you fall for me, then you’re committing. And I want you to think about it because I don’t— I don’t want to ruin your life.”

When he spoke again, he seemed to finally deviate from the script he knew; because confused, he asked, “If?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, if I fall for you?”

Oh… oh.

You understood. It didn’t take the tiniest of nanoseconds for you to fathom what he meant. And you could’ve sobbed right there and then, but the storm distracted you a little; the thunder was growling, threatening to explode again.

Somehow, the chaos outside kept you at bay. But only for so long.

“…Yoongi.”

His fingers moved from yours to your entire palm, taking it in his with a whisper of your name. Then, he clarified, “The possibility of something happening is redundant if it’s already happened, you know? And I’m…”

You held your breath, but at the same time, you were nearly panting. Maybe one first, then the other? You can’t remember anymore. You felt dizzy. Teary-eyed and joyful at once when you saw him at a loss of words.

“You’re?” you encouraged.

“I’m just so… feet deep underwater and in love with you that you couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”

“I—”

“I love you. You know I do.”

Fuck… fuck, you knew.

Of course you knew.

Your heart was vile at times, cooperating with this demon of a brain and feeding you wrong information. But this, you knew. You fought through the congested mess of thoughts and admitted this to yourself every day.

Isn’t this why you were having this conversation in the first place?

But to hear him say it…

I love you.

You know I do.

“Even if you try to deny it,” he continued, “you know I love you and that I’ll keep doing it.”

This is when your waterline gave up; lined with the liquid you’d always held back. But why? There was no reason to. You felt at peace; Yoongi knew your heart. There was no use in keeping you closed off anymore.

So you cried. Let the first tear roll that he caught with his hand, holding your face so firmly that you thought it was the only thing keeping your head upright. Optimistic.

“There’s… there’s a chance that I start doubting you,” you contended for whatever stupid reason, sniffling, “that I doubt myself and then regret pulling you down with me and— there’s a chance I forget that you’ll keep loving me, no matter what, you know—”

“I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I’m a handful.”

“My hands are big enough, baby.”

The endearment didn’t slip past you, but instead made your beating organ swell. You don’t think you’d ever heard your pulse pounding in your eardrums this loudly. And he kept inching closer; his forehead nearly touched yours until it did.

“Can you love me even if I fall, Yoongi?”

“I’ll pick you up. You know that.”

“…What if you feel like you’re not good enough?”

Stop asking questions. Stop stop stop.

But he kept answering.

“Remember what you told me a couple days ago?” Yoongi asked, his voice quiet, drowning in the storm. “That it’d been long since you’d felt happy like this.”

“I do right now… I just…”

“Yeah, and I— I think. If I’m able to stay by your side and make you smile anyhow? Then I think this… we… are good enough.”

That’s it. Your throat was dry, your mind out of questions. You could renounce doubts if he didn’t have any either. He seemed convinced enough; so you admitted your own convictions to him, too.

“I’m… I love you, too. I love you, I fucking do.”

Your last word was cut, merely a breath. Swallowed when you leaned in and kissed him, pulling him back with you onto the bed. Yoongi landed on top of you, draping the two of you under the thin, floral blanket.

The early spring rain tapped your window softly before the gentle noise turned into more aggressive knocking and hammering. This very storm they’d announced was the reason Yoongi had stayed tonight.

That’s what he’d told you at least; in truth, it was an excuse.

Before today, you rarely spent your nights together.

Whenever you did, he allowed you your space in order to not overwhelm you. He knew you were cautious, slow, took your time to trust. He’d sleep on the couch or crawl back to you when you approached him in the dead of the night.

Touching his elbow gently, shaking him awake, telling him so sweetly that it drove him insane, “I don’t want to be alone.”

So he’d cuddle in when you sought out his arms, dozing so peacefully. It delighted him because whenever he didn’t slumber next to you, he’d hear you from the other room. Woefully moaning in your sleep, as if crying, turning.

He never saw or heard any of that when you leaned into his embrace, held onto his shirt. Never did anything more than sleep; he was content with that.

But tonight was different, less chaste than that — and he was content with that, too.

You said you’d wanted to talk. And you had. You’d trembled through the conversation, heart combusting in your chest like it wasn’t part of you anymore, that treacherous thing with its own, stupid will.

But it thumped differently now when he kissed you like this. You felt the change so clearly when he held you, pushing you into the mattress; stripping you naked bit by bit; asking over and over again if you were okay, if he should stop.

You lived differently, too, when he pecked your bare skin, up and down, from head to toe, to and fro. His tongue explored your waist and your thighs and the wetness between your quivering legs.

And you loved differently when he immersed himself in you. Sighing and moaning against you as his tongue lapped you up. You felt the chills everywhere. Felt your shoulders rise, your hand in his long hair, the oxygen running out.

You’d nearly forgotten how such a moment felt — then again, you’d never experienced it like this before. You could barely breathe, and for the first time, you loved it. For the first time, it wasn’t your usual reason.

But the picture of the man over you pumping himself, covering his cock in the condom you’d bought weeks ago, just in case. Back when he started hanging around at your place. He was surprised about your preparation; was delighted about it, too.

And God… God, when he kissed you, sheathing himself in you, every inch connected with every piece of you. Souls and hearts and bodies merging. Moving in and out slowly, then a little quicker, cradling your face and kissing your neck.

Between all that, he kept asking if you were doing okay, and you said you’d never felt better. And the best part was that you fucking meant it and that’s when you knew—

That Yoongi warmed your coldest, most frigid spots. Helped you find a sense of heat that you’d long forgotten, that not even summer could ever bring back. The spring was right inside you, in the middle of your chest despite the rain.

But at the same time, somewhere next to it, he was there, too, becoming the storm that raged outside.

All at once, you remembered again. Even if you might forget in your worst times; even if he’d really need to remind you again.

You remembered that you could be loved, and that you were deserving of love.

You remembered that love towards somebody is often subjective and it’s not entirely up to you who feels it for you, and that only because somebody else was unable to give it to you the right way… it doesn’t mean everyone would act the same.

Yoongi was the spring and the storm; the rainbow you saw the next morning as the sky cleared.

Your mother used to struggle with migraines. Back then, you’d see her tied to the bed for half a day, struggling to get up, sleeping for a couple hours after swallowing her sumatriptan.

The evening or the morning after, you’d ask her how she was doing, and she’d say the headache was gone, but that some of the pressure still lingered. She’d feel it in the heaviness of her head, like it was falling against her clavicles.

Back then, you were too young to understand; you still don’t suffer migraines, knock on wood. But you somehow get what she meant — you guess the same applies to any other part of your body.

Like the soul.

They say a body becomes lighter after death since the soul leaves; and the morning after bawling in Yoongi’s arms, you feel the opposite. Like your grief makes you weigh more than during your good days.

Like you’re heavier than a month ago, without gaining a single kilogram.

But at least that means you’re alive. A soul intact.

And, just like your mother’s medicine, the night alleviated at least some of your pain. Maybe it was the conversation with Yoongi. Maybe the reassurance that he didn’t perceive you as the task you thought you might be.

Many years ago, you refused to seek help in others; be it loved ones, a partner or a therapist. Yoongi taught you to own who you were and to admit the problems you faced; that they were as valid as anything else.

Living with him and loving him this profoundly showed you that it’s okay to confide in someone. That someone will care. But it also taught you that ultimately, nobody is responsible for your well-being as much as you are.

That to heal, you need to accept yourself. That to accept yourself, you need to acknowledge the issues you face.

And for that, you need to be ready to combat your demons, understand that they can be fought.

You’ve always known that. In that sense, it isn’t true that you’re fully dependent on Yoongi. You know deep down that you’ll be the one pulling you out of this.

But…

It’s never bad for someone to initiate that thought process, is it? Even when it’s you emerging from the grave you dug for yourself; it’s okay to grab the hand as the earth breaks, pulling you out of the dirt and darkness.

Yoongi is the rope helping you out; but you’re the one to walk on once the endless well ends and you spot the daylight. You can rely on him. You can rely on yourself.

You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks as you slip into your shoes. You look up, and nod, your smile soft. “Just a few more days, right?”

Right.

You’ll live day by day. Survive the hours, strive towards a better future. Count your blessings, find things to look forward to. It’s alright to fall sometimes, and whenever you do, you’ll remember you’re not alone.

That you’ll get up eventually. You hold onto this.

And onto those few last days until vacation calls. You booked it so long ago; it can be that one thing to grasp, to look forward to, right?

And… you laugh. Because you remember Yoongi telling you to get your nails done, that he’d even go with you. “But do not forget, because blue suits Greece and I’d love to see the colour on you.”

You act like you don’t know what his plea means. You act like you don’t know how much he loves you. How this very approaching plan of his proves that he couldn’t even let go of you if you gave him another reason to.

Isn’t this enough to understand that he never feels guilty of loving you?

Why are you so afraid…

Because.

Yoongi never viewed your pain as something you had control over or something you caused; whoever hurt you is at fault, not you. And Yoongi knows that; knows that you matter, with your past and present and future, however cruel they might be.

But despite the fact that your past made you who you are, and that your future will determine how you’ll further turn out to be, Yoongi always preaches to focus on the controllable.

We won’t ever be able to manage the future entirely; maybe you won’t even ever be faced with the fears you harbour, you know? The past is the past, the present is the present and the future is the future. They will torment us if we put too much meaning in them.

I know it’s hard. But it’ll be alright. One day, it will be — you’re okay.

It has to be…

You’ll be okay. You’re okay.

The weather might change at warp speed — but soon, it’ll be sunny again.

i know i said it's okay if you skip this one, but if you're reading this, you might not have, and i'm thankful for that <3 i needed these feelings out of my system, so it felt very cathartic to me. maybe it helped you a little, too? i hope so, at least – things will be okay 🤍

what do you think? since you're here, i'd love to know how you feel about this piece 💕

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #yoongi fics #myg smut

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key201303 · 7 months ago

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How would your phone gallery look like if you dated The rose’s Woosung

Credits to the owner of the photos 🖤

#kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagine #kpop photos #the rose #the rose fluff #the rose imagine #the rose x reader #the rose woosung #the rose woosung fluff #the rose woosung x reader #woosung #woosung x reader #woosung fluff #kim woosung #kim woosung x reader #kim woosung fluff

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coffeedepressionsoup · 1 year ago

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Somebody does love | MYG - They Meet

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where the two meet for the first time. Part 2 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 3k+

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

A/N - Apologies for the late update. But do let me know in the comments what you think of the chapter and what direction you want to see the narrative flow in. Also, this is not proofed, please excuse typos, tense, and grammar errors. And if you liked it, please please please engage with the post. Comment, like, repost. Your engagement is the sole reason I am pushed to write.

Your flight landed with a two-hour delay at 5 pm at the Incheon airport. After collecting your baggage and going through customs, you shot a text to your friend and waited near one of the cafes inside the airport for the crowd to die down. In about 10 minutes you lugged your bags behind you, pulling your mask further up your nose and pulling the bucket hat to right above your eyes.

It didn’t take long to spot Sammy. Dressed in all black, he had a casual gait that only he could have. It also helped that he carried a little cat poster. You could see his eyes crinkle with a smile as he saw you walking out, which mirrored your own.

“Oh it’s so good to finally have you here!” he said while hugging and slightly managing to lift you off the ground.

“I know. But I am so hungry and nervous and I have such a bad headache,” you mumbled into his jacket shoulder.

“Let’s get you washed, fed and rested. Come on,” he chuckled patted your back and took one of your bags before starting walking towards his car. Ah! His car. A black 2022 Maserati Ghibli Modena. One that he has been yapping about for months on end.

You honestly found it ridiculous. The inordinate amount of money people would pay to procure “luxury” items always confounded you. Sure, wealth commands a certain amount of comfort- Your brain stopped as soon as you sat down on the passenger’s seat of the car. Your ass was far more comfortable than it has ever been on any bed or couch that you have ever owned. Maybe you can allow yourself to see why someone would spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on a car.

Sammy closed the back of the car, with all your bags safely tucked in, and walked over to the driver’s seat. He saw you leaning back onto the seat with your eyes closed. He smirked behind the mask and sat down, swiftly starting the car.

“Still think this was an unnecessary splurge?” his mask had come off and he had that wide eye-crinkling smile.

“Maybe not,” you smiled to yourself. “How far is your place from here?”

“About an hour, with the school and office traffic now, some more.”

“My dead body will enter your residence, Kim Woosung,” you groaned and pulled at the seatbelt in annoyance. Both your mask and hat were now on your lap. Your head felt like the persistent beating of 500 drums all at once.

“Try to take a nap, I will play your sleep playlist,” he suggested.

You could not move another muscle to bother with a response. His reply was like a command. With your eyes shut, you shifted your shoulders to place your neck relatively comfortably. The last thing you remember is the comforting, low hum of white noise filling up the space around you.

_______________________

You walked out of the SNU campus, your colleague and friend Samairah in tow. She is the reason you are in Seoul in the first place. You met at an academic conference in Edinburgh when you were still PhD researchers. Dr Samairah Nazli is now a full-time professor of Gender Studies at the prestigious Seoul National University.

“It is just a contract for the coming academic year, Y/N! Come on! You will also get to spend time with Sammy.” You had scoffed back at your friend over the video call last November when she said her department wanted to invite you as a Visiting Professor for their newly-introduced Feminist Economics course and the existing Gender and Media course that a now-retired professor used to handle.

But a week later when you found yourself in a virtual meeting with the Dean, Department Head and the Vice Chancellor, the opportunity did seem intriguing. They did want to eventually offer you a full-time position. You would be tenured at 32! Also, you can work with Samairah again, after working on your first book together, you knew you would work together again.

And of course, you get to spend time with Sammy. One of your best friends. Kim Woosung of The Rose. But only Sammy to you. Crazy to think that you only met him about three years ago, at Friar Park of all places on the planet, but lord, did you love that dude to bits.

“Wanna grab a drink?” Samairah asks, as you both head towards the subway station.

“No, meeting the broker again.”

“This will be the 8th place she’s showing you?”

You shook your head as you dug in your pockets for the cigarette case. “No. Ninth.”

You lit a cigarette and said, “I really want to finalise a place and settle down before the semester begins.”

“Tough to do all that in what- 12 days now?” she counted the days mentally and grabbed the smoke you held out for her to counter.

“I wish I were a millionaire at times like these,” you took back the smoke and gave it a long drag as you stopped at the crossing. Samairah would go straight from here to catch her train and you will take a left and meet Hwang Seul-gi. Your realtor. Broker. Currently, the most important person in your life.

You could have opted to stay at the Siheung-Si staff residence for part-time and visiting faculties, but that would mean you would spend half the day in transit. And you hated transit. Motion made you sick. So yes, car trips with you are absolute joyrides for your friends.

You also wanted time to work on the manuscript of the next book you are planning. And you want enough time to sleep. God, you wish to have a carefree night of sleep soon. Not that Sammy’s guest room is bad, it is comfortable, and luxurious even when you consider the free cuddles from Woolfie, but it still is not a place of your own.

Although Sammy argued the opposite back when you told him about your year-long relocation to Seoul. He wanted you to live as roommates. Even offered you to pay for house-sitting in mirth, for all the times he would be away on tour.

Again, you loved the guy. But his social butterfly stages of self are something you could take in small doses. You knew what his schedule was like, how many people dropped by for work at his home studio, and even just because to share drinks. But a whole year of it would drive you mad. So Sammy finally gave up trying to convince you and connected you to Seul-gi.

The lovely Seul-gi who yet again showed you a wonderful place, reasonably near the campus. But the deposit itself would require you to sell both your kidneys, maybe an eye and even a good chunk of your liver.

It was almost 7:30 by the time you left the apartment complex and headed towards Sammy’s place. You could take a cab, but the crisp late February air made a nice weather for a walk. You were passing through a park, almost deserted at the time, when you heard a noise that alerted you.

It sounded like someone was struggling. Some animal. You could hear low grunts, probably a puppy or a kitten, but you looked around and saw nothing immediately. The noise continued so you stopped and tried to follow the direction of the sound.

You reached a bush at the side of the pathway and were sure that this was the location. But the sun was already down. Dim yellow lights sparsely lit the park pathway, enough for people to look and walk, but not enough to see within the bushes.

By the noise you could now tell that there was also a metal scraping noise, but barely so. You turned on your phone's flashlight but still saw nothing. You looked around but saw no one. Trying your best to not step on any of the plants, you entered the bush and squatted down with the flashlight.

“Hey, are you okay?” a low but heavy voice from above you startled you and the phone almost dropped from your grip as you stood up to see who it was. A man donning all black with a mask, a cap and a hoodie looked right back at you. Only his eyes were visible and the eyes were filled with concern. In the commotion of your entry into the bush and stomping around, ever so mildly within it had now increased the noise.

It sounded like a distressed kitten. You looked back down and could see one of the drainage grills under the dense foliage of the bush. You looked back up at the stranger and said, “I think a kitten has fallen into the drain.”

Before the man could respond, you squatted back down again and saw the drain and beady little eyes inside it clearly this time. You put down your bag beside you on the ground and put all your effort into pulling the iron rungs up. You could feel it move a little, but not enough to dislodge it.

“Hey baby, don’t worry. I will get you out of there,” you cooed through your laboured breath. By now, the stranger had joined you. You both exchanged glances and without saying a word you went in and pulled at the grille together at the same time. It seemed a lot easier with the two of you having pulled at it. With one arm, the stranger shifted the grille aside.

You peered down the drain and extended your arm to grab the kitten. The poor being was scared and cold and probably even more traumatised by all the strange and sudden commotion. You leant down completely, with your stomach on the ground and lowered yourself into the opening up to your shoulders to grab the kitten with both your hands.

The man next to you extended a cautious arm as if to make sure you don’t fall in. Well, the opening was not big enough for you to fall into. But you could get weirdly stuck. But soon he saw your body lifting up and his extended hand hovered over your body, never touching, but ready to help if needed.

You came back up with a feisty calico kitten in your hands who initially made a few tiny scratches on your palm but was now just shivering. The man beside you promptly took off the work jacket he was wearing over his hoodie and handed it towards you. How many layers is he wearing? A small part of your mind wandered, but you quickly grabbed it from him, giving him a thankful smile and wrapped the kitten up in the jacket and held her close to your body, for maximum warmth.

You looked down at the ground near your feet where your bag was and before you could bend over to grab it, the man swooped in and said, “I got this.”

After you stepped out of the bush, you turned to the man again and said, bowing politely, “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem at all. I have two cats of my own, I know the fear of losing them” he said in a calm but understanding tone. You looked at his eyes more closely while he talked, you could have sworn you had met him before, but didn’t know where.

You shook your head and replied, “Oh no, this is not my cat.” And then you explained the noise you followed. The man nodded his head and looked around probably thinking the same thing that you were. “Do you think the mother is around here somewhere?” you asked.

“If she were, she wouldn’t be too far away.”

You looked back down at the kitten, who had stopped shivering now but was still covered in a considerable amount of mud and dirt. You also considered checking if she was chipped and if the person could be notified if she was already a pet. “Do you know of any vet nearby? I am new here, so-”

“Yes, it’s on my way. I will drop you,” he held his arm out to point in the general direction of where you were headed to go back to Sammy’s. You started walking and the man joined you. Out of the park, and having crossed two traffic signals and taken two right turns, you reached the vet’s chamber. It was reasonably empty. You put your name in the register and waited.

The man sat in a chair next to you but one. He looked over to see you making conversation with the kitten. Of course, she won’t be able to say if she lost her mother or forgot her way home. But the sing-song voice you used clearly worked. He could see the large dark beady eyes of the kitten staring back at your face with wonder and trust.

He too looked at your face with wonder and felt a strange sense of trust and comfort. When he saw a person climb inside a bush at a more or less empty park on a random Thursday evening, he half expected it to be a madman. But when he peered in and saw the glow of a flashlight, he grew more curious.

He noticed how a part of your right elbow was scraped slightly, not that you seemed to notice. He also saw the muddy bits on your beige outfit. And then looked again at the kitten wrapped in his jacket, on your lap.

“Y/N,” the receptionist called out. You stood up and turned towards the man and gave him a curt nod. He blinked several times before nodding back at your retreating figure and gulped down a deep breath. Did you catch him staring? Even if you did, you didn’t let it show. Y/N. Y/N. He repeated the name in his head a couple of times.

It was only after the doctor examined the kitten and told you that she has no chips, and is healthy but is slightly malnourished, that you realised you have so far, that is almost in 30 to 40 minutes’ time, not once asked for the man's name - the stranger in black, now at pet clinic reception.

You just followed a stranger through a dimly lit park and ended up where you are now. When put that way, doesn’t sound like the safest thing to do.

The groomers had taken the kitten to another room to clean her up. The vet wrote up some supplements that the kitten could be given and asked you to wait outside. You walked out and saw the man, right where he was, hugging your bag on his lap, scrolling through his phone. Cap, mask and hoodie - still intact. You went up to him and sat in the seat next to him but one.

“Thanks for looking after my bag,” you smiled.

The man looked up at you and held the bag out, you could see the crinkles of his smile near his eyes. “Is she alright?” he asked.

You explained whatever the doctor said.

“Are you going to keep her then?”

Your eyes widened comically and then it dawned on you. You don’t even have a place for yourself. Where the fuck are you gonna keep her? And if the mother was still around, she would likely not be malnourished, so it is not like you can hope to reunite her with her mom.

Sammy would not mind, for now, you knew. But Woolfie? How would he react?

Seeing you stunned, the man chuckled, “You hadn’t really thought so far, had you?”

“Not really. My immediate instinct was to just release the kitten. But she’s so small and frail, I cannot possibly let her be anywhere else. But-”

Before you could say anything else, one of the groomers approached you, with the kitten now in a cosy, little carrier, all clean and dried. And he carried the jacket she was wrapped in, in the other hand.

You thanked him and then turned to the man next to you and looked guiltily down at the jacket on your right hand. “I am sorry about this. I will get it dry-cleaned and return it to you. And also, I am sorry I didn’t catch your name till now. I am Y/N Y/L/N," you draped the jacket over your other forearm and extended your arm for a shake.

“HI Y/N, I am Min Yo-,” he choked on his words before he cleared his throat and said taking your hand and giving it a firm shake, “I am Min Yong-Ho.”

You smiled back and walked out of the vet clinic. “I go this way now,” you pointed towards the left.

“Oh I go the opposite way,” you could see the hint of a smile but also maybe apprehension.

You had bought cat food worth a week, food bowls, a litter box, litter pellets and a small cat bed. You requested the store to deliver the items to Sammy’s address. In the meantime, you had texted the bare bones of your encounter to him. So he was ready to greet a kitten into his home by the time you went back and for the time being had locked his bedroom door, where Woolfie was fast asleep.

You nodded and asked the man, “So, Yong-ho, how do I return your jacket?”

The man looked around, eyes seeming frantic, almost like a deer caught in headlights. Until finally he pointed at a cafe on the opposite side of the road. “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

“Sure, I will bring back a spick and span jacket, I promise,” you said and asked, “6 PM sounds good?”

“6 PM sounds perfect,” the man nodded and waved back at you as you went your way - the kitten in the carrier in one hand, his jacket in the other and your bag, now draped as a sling across your body. He doesn’t know how long he stood there. But he kept staring your way for five seconds longer after your silhouette disappeared over the horizon.

Taglist: @majiiisstuff, @starlighttaek8, @yoongrace

#min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts suga #min yoongi x reader #suga #yoongi fic #yoongi #agust d #kim woosung #suga x reader #suga fanfic #bts #bangtan #suga bangtan

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firetextskpop · 1 year ago

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i sent an ask the other day but i already have another one lol ...

would love to read something with the rose jaehyeong where the reader is also in a band as a bassist and they meet backstage at a festival/show !!

please look after yourself <3

Hello! Thank you so much! <3 I hope you're taking care of yourself as well. This will likely be quick bc Jae is 1 of 2 of my #1 ults and on my mind a lot. I miss The Rose so much. Also it's like perfect bc I play the bass.

"We Rose You!" Woosung yelled out to the screaming crowd.

Here was another festival that each of your groups were at but the only difference was that instead of being on the other side, performing at the same time as The Rose, your group's set was after. 15 minutes between just to assure that the festival go-ers can get food and see other artists they may like.

You didn't intend to run into the members as they began coming off stage to the back, but you did. Luckily, the staff was cool, and when the boys walked off stage, they didn't shoo you away or stop the boys from talking to you.

"Woo! They're really riled up tonight." Dojoon says and gives everyone he sees a high five. "I mean you guys did great!" You blurt out and he flashes you his beautiful smile and leaves. Your heart fluttered a bit from the interaction but before you could even think about reacting again, Woosung comes by and stops when he sees you.

"Wait, aren't you y/n, the bassist in *your group name*?" Okay... now you're blushing. How does THEE Kim Woosung know you? "Y-yeah! How did you..." He chuckles and looks over at Jaehyeong, who is not paying attention and getting the sweat wiped off of him. "I researched a few of the groups in the festival and the way you play is so dope. Someone is also kinda inspired by you and has been trying some of your iconic baselines." He responds and nods his head in Jaehyeong's direction. Jae is now aware that you're there and he smiles and waves to you.

"Helloo" The taller man says to you and puts his hand out to shake your hand. You return the gesture while blushing really hard. Anyone could tell from far away he was really handsome but being this close to him was much different. "Hello." Your eyes met his. "I heard that you like the way I play." Clearly now you were getting bold. Jaehyeong laughs a bit nervously and amps up his charms "Oh yes! Its very unique. You're truly a one-of-a-kind."

"Maybe we could have a playing session one day?" You suggest, attempting to outdo him in his own game. His eyebrow raised and head tilted slightly at the response. "Lets do it." He says and pulls out his phone to get your information so you both can communicate. After exchanging information, Jaehyeong thanked you for your time and you thought there was no better time than now to ask for a hug. He very gladly gave it to you but was then teased immediately by Woosung and Hajoon.

"I didn't know you had game Jeff!" Woosung pushed him a bit. Jae began blushing and giggling out of embarrassment now. "Stopp" He whined and pushed Woosung back, beginning to walk away. "When are you two gonna get married?" Hajoon teases and puts his arm around the bassist. Jaehyeong sighs and turns back around to wave you goodbye. Quickly, you waved back and then felt a tap on your shoulder. "Are you done flirting now? It's time to go on stage!" The lead singer says and you rush to get to your placement.

A newfound adrenaline rushed through your body as you prepared for the stage. Before you know it the lights are on and it's time to shine. The crowd is beautiful as ever but only one face sticks out to you. Smile brighter than the sun itself and his eyes even brighter. The only one who matters in that moment.

#the rose fluff #the rose scenarios #the rose #jaehyeong #hajoon #dojoon #woosung #jaehyeong scenarios #jaehyeong fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop #kpop fluff #k rock #k rock scenarios

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exouniverse · 1 year ago

Text

Band’s Cut

Pairing: jaehyeong x gn reader

Genre: fluff, birthday fic

Warnings: none, but if any please tell me and I’ll add it.

Summary: The Rose members have seen the subtle sparks flying between Jaehyeong and his acting classmate, but their slow-burn romance only drives them to meddle further and play matchmaker. Will a chance for a confession finally arise at the surprise birthday party that they’ve planned?

Word count: 5.1K+

A/N: I haven’t seen much of The Rose fanfic around, so I hope this reaches as many Black Roses as it can. Also, I have come to accept that the birthday fics will no longer have a limit of words… they simply flow so easily each time that they become longer and longer. Perhaps some will be short, but that will depend on the premise. So, I hope you like this! Happy birthday Jaehyeong!

A little fun fact, “Band’s Cut” refers to the “Director’s Cut” version of a film, but in this case is the members version of how the romance happened (or more like how they “made it happen.”)

Banner template by @kithsune/@cafekitsune

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD

The members gathered around Woosung's laptop with coffee and water in hand, about to embark on hours of reviewing audition tapes after their casting director's preliminary cuts.

As Woosung hit play on the first file, they settled in for a video marathon. Dojoon diligently took notes on the potential candidates, carefully analyzing their skills and talents. Meanwhile, Hajoon closely observed the performance nuances, paying attention to the finer details.

The casting director did an excellent job selecting the finest dancers, evident from their clean lines and exceptional technique. The actors showcased remarkable skills in delivering emotions and portraying mannerisms. Some triple-threat performers showed great promise and made it onto the list. However, none of them had managed to captivate all the members with an overwhelming sense of fascination.

Jaehyeong doodled absently, almost lost in the poodle dog playing with a ball that he drew in the corner of his notes. It was the first word you spoke that made him look back up at the laptop, the words melting in his ears.

The members were deeply moved by every gesture and glance throughout your audition. Every minute of your performance left a lasting impact, and even after it was over, the essence of your talent lingered in their minds, preventing them from even moving on to the next audition tape.

"Y/N, was it? Really connects to the heart of the song," Hajoon remarked in awe. Murmurs of agreement echoed among the members, making it clear that, despite having some more entries left to review, Y/N must be considered for the lead. But little did they know this match-up held promise beyond just professional prospects.

The dialogue was almost turning into doodles on the pages. Jaehyeong was having a hard time deciphering his lines for the scene they were studying in his acting class.

He sighed, putting his script down. The line caught in an endless loop within his mind, making him feel dizzy. Suddenly, a voice brought him down to earth. "Need any help with your lines?" you offered.

Jaehyeong looked at you, contemplating and mirroring your kind smile. "This part," he said, and pointed at Captain Wentworth's line, "‘half agony, half hope'...what do you think it means?"

You grabbed the script from his hand to analyze the dialogue. "For Wentworth, I think it's the fear of getting rejected once again after what happened with them in the past, but he's still holding onto a little hope in his momentary jump of faith to confess his feelings to Anne. It's all of the excitement and uncertainty tangled up."

When you looked up at him, he somehow looked even more confused. His eyes were locked on yours as if looking for a deeper answer, so you said, "in a more general sense... it's just how complex and contradictory love is. Like when your emotions for another person change from friendship to love. The agony will be in the fear of your feelings not being returned, while the hope will be in the possibility that that love will be reciprocated."

As Jaehyeong assimilated your perspective on Wentworth's complex emotions, your explanation resonated with him on a deeper level. A clarity emerged through your guidance, breaking the haze around the lines that now reflected his own awakening feelings. Up until now, he had thought his admiration for you was only due to your artistic abilities, but now he could understand Wentworth's words towards Anne.

Words were hard to find, so he hoped his gaze spoke for him, and he offered a complimentary smile as a thank you for your thorough description that shaped his performance as well as his newfound emotions.

Dojoon walked with Jaehyeong towards the dressing rooms to get ready for the music video shoot. They were just chatting about the last TikTok they posted when Dojoon noticed Jaehyeong was a little distracted. Following his gaze, Dojoon spotted you entering the hall accompanied by a group of staff members.

Smirking knowingly, Dojoon was aware of Jaehyeong's fondness for you. He had seen it ever since the call-back auditions, when the selection process for the lead and the ensemble dancers began. Among the three actors being considered, it was evident that Jaehyeong had a stronger bias towards you compared to the rest of the members. His smile would widen every time your name was mentioned. When the decision was made to cast you as the lead in their music video, Jaehyeong passionately advocated for you, leaving the rest of the team exchanging meaningful glances.

Dojoon nudged Jaehyeong playfully. "Look who can't take his eyes off our new lead."

Jaehyeong looked back at Dojoon as he smiled nervously. "What? Was I that obvious?"

The members, as it was too obvious, had managed to get a confession out of him that day after the selection was made. He told them all about you and how much he admired your talent. He truly enjoyed working with you on the class assignments.

Dojoon chuckled and whispered, "only if anyone was paying close attention, like me."

Both of them entered their dressing room. It was just the two of them, so Dojoon dared to say, "you should tell Y/N, about how you feel." He stopped as he checked his wardrobe, making Jaehyeong linger on his words.

"No pressure though," he offered with a kind smile. Dojoon suspected that you also had feelings for their maknae. You had been smiling too wide and giggling so much around Jaehyeong after the call-back auditions. Even more so when you two got some time to catch up and Jaehyeong introduced you to the band.

Hajoon entered before Jaehyeong could say anything, his cheeky smile giving away his thoughts. "Jeff, Jeff!" Hajoon shouted.

"Know who is here?" Woosung whispered excitedly as he came in behind Hajoon.

Dojoon smiled at them knowingly. Jaehyeong seemed like a mouse caught in a trap; his sweat around his eyebrows was evident. "Hajoon and Woosung!" Dojoon replied to Woosung's question as he gave them a warning look.

Woosung looked back at their lovely maknae and nodded. Hajoon mouthed an "oh" in understanding, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment.

Jaehyeong was pensive throughout their glam session for the shooting. He appreciated Dojoon's encouragement; he really could've said something long ago, but the moment he found out about his feelings slipped away too quickly, and his hectic schedule distracted him too much. It also felt too weird to say it during class or now at the shooting of their music video since they haven't had much time out of those restricted spaces.

The whole crew planned to gather after everyone was ready for the first scenes to start off the shoot with the best energy. As soon as you saw Jaehyeong coming out of his dressing room, you approached to greet him, "Jaehyeong-ah! Thought I missed you, but it's nice to see you before we start."

Jaehyeong eased up into a bright smile when he saw you. "Y/N! I'm so glad to have you around for this music video; you're the best."

You could've missed it, but you caught a glimpse of the rest of the band rushing to get back inside their dressing room. You were a little confused but decided to ignore it and continue to chat with Jaehyeong. "You are great yourself. Wanna go to set together? Are you waiting for the members?"

Jaehyeong clearly heard Woosung's giggle and Hajoon whispering "go." He smiled at you, trying to contain his own laugh at his hyung's antics. "We can go together; they are too slow, too slow," he joked, scrunching his nose, and walked along with you as you two chuckled.

The members giggled silently once the two of you had left. Dojoon looked at his friends, already plotting something cheeky in his mind.

"Do you guys think he will say something today or tomorrow?" Dojoon asked them.

"I hope so! They're so cute and so into each other," Woosung expressed.

"Jaehyeong has been overthinking this too much; he must," Hajoon agreed. "However, he's always moving at the beat of his own drum, so perhaps he will take some more time."

"Okay, drummer cliché, don't turn the mood down," Dojoon joked. "But you're right..." he admitted.

Woosung nodded and shared, "I heard Jaehyeong say he wishes he could hang out with Y/N more. That they have barely seen each other outside of class."

They took a moment to consider a way to help their maknae, but their manager came looking for them as they were supposed to be at the set long ago.

The three of them arrived fashionably late, thankfully while some staff crew were still settling equipment for the scenes, so they were not noticed by everyone. Especially Jaehyeong and you, who were caught up in a seemingly smooth conversation as you laughed at whatever Jaehyeong was saying.

"Oh oh oh, look at Y/N's hand!" Dojoon emphasized as you placed your hand on Jaehyeong's while laughing with him.

"Jaehyeongie!" Woosung exclaimed.

"He probably doesn't need much of our help," Hajoon commented.

The music video shoot went incredibly well, with everything flowing smoothly. As the day came to a close, Woosung extended an invitation for the cast to join the band for some drinks. Everyone appreciated the opportunity to unwind and cherish the quality time spent together, further strengthening their bonds.

The following day of shooting unfolded much like the previous one, with Jaehyeong still hesitant to confess his feelings. The other members opted not to intervene too much, instead choosing to support Jaehyeong whenever possible. They offered advice and encouragement whenever they sensed the need. Jaehyeong's hyung cheering crew discreetly arranged situations for the two of them to spend more time together. Nevertheless, it seemed that Jaehyeong was taking his time quite slowly.

After the celebration with the entire crew, the members gathered to discuss their observations and analyze if there was anything else they could do to support Jaehyeong. They contemplated whether it was best to continue their efforts or step away completely, respecting Jaehyeong's pace.

"Guys, I think we've done enough," Hajoon remarked.

"Yeah, I think they're okay," Woosung echoed Hajoon's opinion.

Dojoon took a deep breath and dramatically set his coffee on the table. "No, they're not," he looked back at his friends and continued, "Jaehyeong said he wanted to spend more time out of work with Y/N. So far, everything has been about work—the music video, lunchtime, the after-work celebrations included. I don't think he's saying anything any time soon."

"Dojoon-ah, it's still not our place to meddle too much, though," Woosung pointed out.

"I know, I know..." he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "But, should we try one more thing?"

Woosung and Hajoon looked at him almost uninterested, only to entertain him a little bit more since it had been mostly him orchestrating the moments for Jaehyeong to confess his feelings. They wanted to help too; they had been excited to take part in the scheme, but seeing how Jaehyeong was taking his time made them think it was better to step away for a while. Contrary to Dojoon, who seemed even more committed to the cause, "one last try," Dojoon restated.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing too crazy, please!" Hajoon stepped in, limiting Woosung's encouragement.

"Let's invite Y/N to Jaehyeong's surprise birthday party next week!" He exclaimed, "that would be completely out of work. We give Jaehyeong a week to try to make a move if he wants to, but we still secure another moment together for them no matter if they end up coming as a couple or singles ready to mingle...between them, I—"

"Okay, we got it!" Hajoon interrupted.

"That's genius!" Woosung regained his enthusiasm. "I'm in! One more nosy try won't hurt."

"I knew you were going to agree!" Dojoon looked back at Hajoon, "Joon-ah! C'mon, get in, please," he begged.

Hajoon rolled his eyes before he said, "alright, one more try."

The final day of shooting was with a reduced cast since it was mostly the band and the lead who were supposed to film. The perfect setting for a little surprise invitation to a surprise birthday party.

Woosung managed to grab a moment with Jaehyeong gone from your side; it seemed almost impossible with time to separate the both of you. He casually made conversation about the music video and how incredible it was to have found you for it. He needed to be fast, though, before Jaehyeong came and heard about what they had been planning for his birthday for a month already.

"What's best is that you were already familiarized with our band, especially Jaehyeong, at your acting classes," Woosung said.

"That helped a lot!" You exclaimed, smiling widely. "When I saw the casting call, I immediately thought of Jaehyeong and did my best to get it since working with him is super fun. He's a great friend, so I knew it was definitely going to be so easy to navigate."

"Right, you're super close. You've been glued to each other this whole time," he threw in a little tease, "but it's cool to see our maknae happy having friends around that share such cool creative drives between them," he smoothly added.

You nodded. Woosung caught a little shyness in your gesture, so he continued, "hey! Actually, it's awesome that we got to know you properly. Jaehyeong talks about you a lot, and we wanted to contact you for a little surprise we're throwing for him for his birthday."

"Oh, really? I was actually thinking of calling him and inviting him for some treat or something, but that is even better."

Woosung had to contain his excitement hearing you talk so enthusiastically, confirming even more how into each other the two of you were. He succeeded; Dojoon's plan was taking off steadily.

"Awesome! I'll tell Dojoon to send you all of the details."

“Hey, Y/N!”

"Hey, Y/N!" You heard Jaehyeong call you from inside the class.

It took you a second to realize he had been calling you, but as you turned around, a smile graced your lips. You watched as he maneuvered through the small crowd that had formed around your classmates near the entrance, causing you to giggle. After apologizing to Haeyoung, the class assistant, for accidentally bumping into her, he finally reached you.

"I thought I missed you," he blurted, a little out of breath. "So, I was thinking, do you wanna go grab a coffee?"

His smile was contagious. "Sure! Coffee would be nice," you agreed as enthusiastically as you could.

"It seems it might rain; we could go to your favorite just a couple of blocks away from here."

You simply nodded in response and followed him. Jaehyeong was undoubtedly the top highlight of acting classes. When you first saw him in that initial class, you couldn't help but feel a bit starstruck. However, he quickly showed how down-to-earth and kind he was, quickly erasing any notion of him being a celebrity from your mind. If you were to describe him in a single word, it would be "comfort." Whenever your best friend was absent from class, it was Jaehyeong that you would always gravitate towards, or sometimes the both of you if Hanna was also present.

"Are you in the mood for something sweeter today? Or just your regular Americano?" Jaehyeong asked once you entered the coffee shop.

"Oh, uh..." he caught you a little off guard. "Something sweeter sounds good today," you agreed.

"Find us a spot; I'll go and order," he suggested, anticipating your protest as he often did when he planned to pay for everything. "Please, just let me," he quickly interjected, flashing a genuine smile, hoping you would agree and allow him to treat you to coffee.

"Okay, but you will let me pay next time."

"Yeah, maybe," he joked, effortlessly bringing out a small laugh from you.

You went to look for a good spot so you could enjoy your coffee calmly. There was a corner near the window where not many people were around, so you sat there to wait for Jaehyeong. He had been right. As you stared outside the window, you noticed the raindrops starting to fall. You contemplated the weather, trying not to think about anything.

"Nice spot!" You heard him say as he sat down in front of you. "It did rain! Am I a psychic?" he joked, looking at the rain and giving you your drink.

"That is sweet," you said, and suddenly realized you might not have just meant it to describe the drink he chose for you. His eyes were so sparkly and full of joy, making you laugh again. "Seems you know me quite well; this seems delicious, or you really are a psychic," you said as you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"I will look into auditions for psychics; it might just come natural."

You were not surprised at how easily he could make you laugh, but the blossoming affection within you piqued your curiosity once again. All of your emotions collapsing caused you to retreat inward, contemplating and reflecting on them more deeply.

You would normally be aware of your surroundings, as you swear by the "here and now" perspective, but it was becoming more evident that something was on your mind.

Jaehyeong tried to study your expression. "So you got an interesting scene for the assignment?" he asked casually.

It was only natural for him to ask such a question, but what he understandably failed to anticipate was the extent of your concern since you first read it. He did notice the way you sighed and gazed at your coffee, absentmindedly playing with the whipped cream on top.

"Is everything okay?"

You looked up at him; his eyes expressed so much concern, and you felt so comfortable that you even managed to pull off a small smile. "It's a tough one," you admitted. "I read it, and it just feels so real. I'm concerned about not being able to even start with it; I think I—I, uh..."

Jaehyeong allowed the silence to linger, giving you the space and time you needed. Finally, you spoke up again, expressing your worries, "I don't know how I will manage to separate my own feelings from the character's." You glanced back at your coffee. "Actor's problems, huh?" you added, trying to lighten the mood with your self-deprecating comment.

Jaehyeong chuckled softly and met your eyes. "No need for jokes; your feelings are valid." He considered his words, "that is definitely a challenge, but you have a gift for channeling emotions authentically while keeping yourself protected."

He pondered for a moment. "You can perhaps resort to a simple technique...breath in and out, stay calm so the tears flow naturally once you relax," he suggested, offering a potential solution for the challenging assignment you had to prepare for next class, where you had to cry on cue. "But you can always talk to the professor and see if he can change your scene. I'm sure he will understand. Your learning process doesn't have to come at the expense of your suffering."

You finally smiled truthfully; his understanding and advice moved you deeply. He really saw through you and realized how deeply it was affecting you.

"And you're not alone," he added, smiling back. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to; I'll listen and provide my psychic powers, no charge."

The way he brought out your most genuine laugh of the day spoke volumes. He was a special one, no doubt. You felt so grateful towards him, and just having him around felt like a blessing. The emotions were finally clear as you saw into his eyes, expressing your heartfelt gratitude. There was a deep care for him that made you feel excited and frightened all at the same time.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Dojoon exclaimed with a smile as he saw you entering the venue. He walked over to greet you properly and led you to where Woosung and Hajoon were busy setting up some fairy lights. They greeted you as warmly as Dojoon had and happily welcomed your offer to help with the preparations for Jaehyeong’s surprise.

“Thank you for lending us a hand; Jaehyeong would love to know that,” Woosung said, winking playfully. It seemed he had caught you off guard; your nervous smile was the giveaway. He let it rest but exchanged a look with Hajoon, who was trying to hide a knowing smile from you.

It was getting more obvious as time went by just how much you were into each other. The members didn’t want to meddle much anymore, but they still had some tricks up their sleeves if they didn’t see much interaction. Just one final push.

More guests began to arrive once the early crew finished decorating, filling the venue with an air of excitement and joy as the hour drew near. Smiles adorned everyone's faces as they eagerly anticipated Jaehyeong's arrival, but it was a certain starry-eyed face that kept the members eager to witness their youngest member's reaction.

The plan was set in motion. Hajoon received Jaehyeong's message, expressing concern as he found no one around in the building. Hajoon quickly reassured him that he was in no trouble but urged him to hurry since the crew needed to begin filming the promotional video for the tour earlier than planned, mentioning a logistical issue with the venue—all of this a white lie concocted to ensure Jaehyeong arrived alone at his surprise birthday party.

Jaehyeong's face showed a whirlwind of emotions as he stepped through the door. The lights out momentarily masked his concern, but it flickered across his face for a brief moment before he comprehended the situation. The sudden burst of lights, music, and chants of birthday wishes took him completely by surprise.

A particular someone captured his gaze, and all that his face revealed was enchantment. The members nudged each other, beaming at Jaehyeong‘s perfect reaction to realizing you were here. The birthday party be damned—almost—this is what they lived for, just witnessing their maknae being truthfully happy.

The band energetically embraced Jaehyeong in a group hug, messing with his neatly styled hair that his style crew had meticulously managed to tame. He had already thought that his sort of laid-back outfit didn’t match the tidy hairstyle much, so he felt more comfortable as he let them ruffle his hair. If only he could have guessed it was just to make him think he had to be at least half ready to only change his outfit once he arrived at the promotional video set.

Jaehyeong’s smile remained on his lips as the members pulled back, filled with gratitude for his friends. But his eyes suddenly searched past them, landing on yours across the room as he heard the beats of his yearning heart echo inside his ears.

There you stood, smiling shyly. The party buzz faded into background noise as your gazes met and held. Before he could second-guess himself, Jaehyeong started walking towards you. His heart pounded faster as your smile grew, mirroring the hope in his own eyes.

Time seemed to pass slower than it really was, but as Jaehyeong reached you under the colorful lights, he softly spoke your name, bringing you back from your slow-motion imagination.

“Y/N, I’m so happy you’re here.”

You shook your head slightly as you scrunched your nose. “It’s not hard to show up for you. Your hair...” you said, noticing the disheveled locks that his friends had left. Gently giggling, you ran your fingers through his hair, fixing it back into place. Jaehyeong didn’t have much time to react since the crowd approached to congratulate him. You stayed behind, trying to slow your heartbeat as you greeted a couple of acquaintances.

The party started right away, with people taking Jaehyeong from one place to another. Dojoon kept an eye out between mingling, ensuring everyone felt included in the revelry. He noticed you and Jaehyeong gravitating naturally together amidst chaos, even stealing shy glances when thinking no one saw while you were not within the same group of people. Trusting the magic of moments, Dojoon gave you space, engaging others enthusiastically.

In a brief moment, he found Woosung awaiting karaoke's start. Woosung nodded discreetly towards the balcony as he drew Hajoon in, who was busy setting the microphones. They watched in awe as Jaehyeong led you outside while holding your hand.

Woosung smiled knowingly. "Our work here is done. All that's left is for them to follow their hearts."

As you walked out onto the balcony, the sounds of the party gradually faded into the background, merging with the bustling city below like distant background music. You both took in the view, and for a moment, nothing was said.

You took the opportunity to reach for the small birthday present you brought. You were not planning anything specific to gift him, but when you saw it, you immediately thought of Jaehyeong, and you bought it right away.

“I got you something,” you announced.

Jaehyeong looked at you, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to,” he chuckled nervously.

“How could I not? It’s small, but I really hope you like it.” You took a deep breath and handed him the small box.

The gentle touch of his fingers sent thrills down your arm, so you tried to hide the sudden nervous smile that grew on your face. You stared as he opened his present and were moved by his growing smile.

“I’m a psychic… this is so cool. Where did you get it?”

He discovered the reason why, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just window shopping and saw it; it was meant to be yours.”

“You…” he searched for your eyes. “I love it. Could you?” he asked you, offering to put the subtle crystal ball necklace around his neck.

There was no possible way to hide your smile anymore; he had you hooked. You stepped close enough to grab the necklace and softly rested your arms on his shoulders to fasten it. Once the necklace was secured around his neck, you took a second to admire it on him. It was perfect; it wasn’t extravagant, and it fit so well with him. Before he could read the emotions that your eyes expressed, you looked back at the city.

“Thank you,” he simply said.

“Welcome.”

Jaehyeong's heart raced with anticipation, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reminded himself that there was nothing to worry about when he was with you. Being around you brought him a sense of tranquility that he had never experienced elsewhere. Just by gazing at you and witnessing how your smile mirrored the radiance of the moon in the night sky, he felt at ease.

“Thank you for coming; seeing you made this surprise even better,” Jaehyeong softly said. You turned to face him, and the full sight of your smile melted his worries away.

“There was no reason not to be here.” Something in your voice gave him courage.

“I’ve loved to have you around the past week; we hadn’t seen each other in so long since I was too busy to attend classes.” Jaehyeong stepped closer, slowly, almost without being noticed. “I’ve missed asking you for help; I’ve missed our talks—“

“I’ve missed you too,” you interrupted, summarizing what you’d both felt before you could see each other again.

A fondness entered his eyes, and he nodded. “Y/N,” he started and gently reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin. Your fingers curled around his, igniting sparks in both of your hearts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he paused for a second. “I’ve felt the agony for so long, but now I’m taking my leap of faith, letting hope lead me. What I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. Not just as a friend. Every time we’re together, you become the highlight of my day.”

A tender smile broke across your face, accompanied by sparkling eyes that searched for his, easing the last of his nerves. “Jaehyeong, I like you too. I have for a while.”

It was your heart´s turn to settle into joy and calmness. You also lived through the agony and hope that Jaehyeong mentioned, making you remember about that small moment you shared in class once. It was almost poetic how he brought it up. He eased you up in ways you hadn’t known before, and that is why you stepped even closer and lifted your free hand to cradle his cheek. Jaehyeong’s eyes fluttered shut at your warm touch, savoring it.

Slowly, you leaned in, giving him every opportunity to pull back if unwanted. But all he wanted was you. He searched for you with his eyes still shut, until both of your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were impossibly sweet and soft against yours, weakening your knees, but you stayed strong and continued to kiss him.

You both pulled away, driven by a gentle laugh that started without even thinking much about it all. You rested your forehead on his, keeping your eyes closed as you kept your hand on his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek soothingly.

Jaehyeong smiled with ease when your eyes met, both sharing radiant gazes equally filled with care and desire. “You make me so happy,” he shared while his cheeks heated up.

You giggled softly and pulled back to appreciate his face. “I am the lucky one,” you admitted.

“Should we stay out here for the rest of the night?” Jaehyeong asked, almost suggesting.

“You are the star of the party; it’s your birthday.” You giggled even more. “Even though, that sounds nice. No matter how cold it is out here, I feel warm being this close to you,” you confessed.

Jaehyeong’s protectiveness heightened and embraced you, drawing you even closer. “Then let’s get inside. The guys would also probably want to know what happened,” he chuckled. “Did you catch up on their meddling?” he asked, amused.

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I admit they helped quite a bit, though.”

“Yeah, they did.” Jaehyeong searched for your hand and tilted his head towards the door. You squeezed his hand and followed him inside.

You stepped in even closer than you had been when you went out to the balcony. Hajoon noticed the smiles on your faces and whispered at Dojoon to look back, and in a chain reaction, he pulled Woosung from where he was talking to a couple of their friends. They looked at you both in awe, full of joy for what seemed to have been a successful confession. No matter who initiated it or what was said and done, they were just happy for the both of you and how easily everything fell into place.

#happy birthday jaehyeong #jaehyeong fanfic #jaehyeong #lee jaehyeong #the rose #the rose band #the rose fanfic #the rose jaehyeong #birthday fic #exouniverse

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