Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s called being a mature adult. If I wanted to fuck some- no, no, stop acting like a goddamn- ah shit! Now you cut the call?!”

The city has problems beyond his comprehension. Sometimes on a freezing day when Seokjin has consumed a little too much beer to feel a dash of warmth and wants nothing more than to scream on his favourite pillow when he gets home, there will always be an interruption to his plans. No, he does not care that he’s apathetically holding his overcoat in his hand and it’s been attracting mud from the dirty street like a greedy magnet throughout his walk. If the washing machine has to do overtime to get the dirt off then that’s not his problem. The bills can actually suck his dick because his girlfriend surely won’t.

Don’t get him wrong (or maybe do) he’s not a sex-hungry freak (because who isn’t?). Sometimes all he wants is to be held and cuddled in bed and more often than not it comes with an added bonus of sex(not that he gets the former treatment). Or at least, it has been the case with all of his partners in the past. But trust him, sex isn’t all he wants, that is not his end goal. Yes, it’s fun and physically gratifying and he’s had sex more times than there are lines in the palm of both of his hands combined. He’s a pro at it, he can have sex with his eyes closed. But that’s not all he wants out of his life. What he actually wants though, is still a mystery even to him.

His father said he’d gone astray. Mixed with the wrong crowd and lost the purpose of his life simply because medicine wasn’t the line of life he wanted to choose for himself. He thought he’s too average in terms of the brains to become a doctor. “You want to be an actor?! Might as well get out of my house right now!”- his father would say. So, to earn a bit of money to survive on his own, he dabbled with part time jobs where he used to sing in tiny restaurants and got paid in pennies in return. Made friends who screwed him over. In the end, he couldn’t manage enough money to be able to fend for himself and his father refused to pay the tuition for his performing art’s degree. So it was either trust issues with homelessness or daddy issues with terrible working hours for the rest of his miserable life.

Pride and dignity rots in hell in the face of hunger.

Seokjin kicks a stone in frustration, throws the jacket with so much force that he doesn’t even see where it lands. “Fuck, if at least one thing would go right in my life!” His voice echoes on empty walls on the empty street.

“If you stopped throwing your shit at people then maybe it would. They do say what goes around comes around.”

Seokjin looks up at the source of the sound interrupting his pity party for himself. Advice isn't what he currently wants to jam his brain with. Most of all, not when the insinuation is that he has his own shit smeared all over his life. What he sees in the half-lit street is a lump of leather, dark hair, pale white skin. Now, Seokjin isn’t into superstitions. He’s a hard-core science guy, logic over emotions guy, men don’t cry guy. But he’s had enough of being reasonable and not getting anything in return. So, gulping down the last bits of whatever expensive brand of beer he had in the evening from his tongue, he goes-

“Are you a fucking ghost?”

The pale white ghost is holding Seokjin’s overcoat in one hand, a shiny small thing in the other. His beer-addled brain cannot make out the exact shape. If it’s a knife, he should make a run for his life. But if it’s, by any blessed chance, a certain something else, then he should get down on his knees and start begging right now. Excuse the fact that he should be begging either way.

The pale white ghost spins the shiny small thing in his hand. “Ghosts aren’t real- ”

“- is that a dildo in your hand?” The pale white ghost stops spinning the shiny small thing. Seokjin starts blinking rapidly at his hand to focus harder. He’s not one to judge someone looking to satisfy themselves.

The ghost holds the small shiny thing up so Seokjin can see what it is. And in the amount of time it takes Seokjin to clearly see what it is, the ghost has completely turned his body towards Seokjin.

“It’s a spray can.”

Seokjin shrugs because it makes zero difference for the sole reason that, well, it reminds him of an interesting incident.

“I’ve had a patient with one of those up his ass.” The ghost looks like he’s seeing a ghost. His eyes widen as he looks at the spray can as though it had offended him personally. Seokjin understands the reaction. He hiccups, “I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“You don’t say.”

“I’m thinking of having it though. That’s why-” Seokjin waves to the spray can.

“I didn’t need to know that.” The ghost stretches his lips into a thin line, holds Seokjin’s dirty overcoat up to him. “Your coat. You need to wash it.”

Seokjin takes it back from him, “thank you, dear strange ghosty.”

The ghost scoffs, “I’m not a ghost.”

Seokjin scoffs right back, “sure. Prove it then. You’re practically translucent.”

The ghost looks like he’s entertaining the idea of getting into a heated debate about the existence of otherworldly spiritual beings. Maybe Seokjin should make a run for it-

“There has never been any indication in the world of physics that souls can exist outside of a physical body after its death. If you hear voices, see suspicious wisps of light and objects moving, then it would mean whatever it is has a mass and takes up space. But if that’s the case then how do you explain ghosts moving through walls and other objects? Objects can’t go through each other. That is, unless they’re holographic. But even holograms are monochromatic light which, again, has a certain wavelength. I’ve never heard of a ghost with a wavelength in the world of science. Besides, to be made of mass, they’d have to consume food. But have you ever seen a ghost eating? Or shitting? Hell, even having sex? No, right. So how do they live? By scaring people?”

He stops and Seokjin blinks. The ghost is explaining why it doesn’t exist. Yet he can see him breathing after that excruciating monologue. Yes, Seokjin knows for sure ghosts don’t exist but at this point it has become a matter of pride. Of defending his honour. He can’t let a guy with a spray can beat him in his own game. So he forces himself to sober up.

“But I’ve seen apparitions in the hallways. So have my wonderful colleagues. You think so many people at once can witness something that doesn’t exist?”

The ghost seems so unbothered it hits his pride in the tiniest bit. “Doctors work in a high stress environment. What is the longest shift you’ve had to work? 24 hours?”

“My personal record is 36.”

“See, being awake for that long can make you hallucinate things that don't exist for real. I’m sure your colleagues are very lovely but if I’m not gravely mistaken, they don’t seem to have chosen plumbing as their career.” The ghost is giving him a tiny smile now. “Could be mass hallucination too. I’m sure someone like you can explain that phenomenon way better than me.”

“You’re not completely wrong but what about the time when-”

Seokjin is cut off when the ghost stops him with an index finger. “I’ve got a closing statement.”

He bites his bottom lip lightly to keep himself from smiling at the enthusiasm of the guy. He waves his hand in front of him. “Sure, go ahead.”

The ghost brings his index finger down and points at something on the ground behind him. Seokjin looks at where he’s pointing but he’s not sure what the ghost expects him to see. Dirt, mud, the back of his shoe? He opens his mouth to ask but the ghost beats him to it.

“I have a shadow.”

At that, Seokjin finds himself bursting into laughter. Doubling over and threatening to throw up the remnants of his dinner and all that. He manages to straighten up and clap slowly, tops it all off with a ninety degree bow which gives him vertigo.

“Bravo!”

“Now you’re embarrassing me.” The ghost says and Seokjin straightens up again.

He doesn’t know when he started tearing up in his fit, but he finds himself dabbing the pad of his pinky on the corner of his eye. “Hey, ghosty-”

“Not a ghost.”

“What’s your name?”

“Casper.”

Seokjin eyes Casper from head to toe. The all black outfit, the boots, the spray can in his hand. Of course he wouldn’t tell him his real name right away. He’s probably doing something that’s legally offensive. “I can’t believe I just got lectured by someone committing vandalism.”

Casper scoffs as though choosing to disregard the comment about vandalism pains him physically. “Not today, I’m not. My apprentice wanted to paint a 3D dick tonight. I’m simply on guard.”

Seokjin blinks. The night just keeps getting weirder and weirder. He’s never drinking after a 36 hour shift ever again.

“Apprentice.” He drawls, “drawing a 3D dick. It’s always about sex, isn’t it? Why is everyone going on about sex today? Is it national sex day?”

“Only you. It’s just a colourful dick.”

“That’s so perverted.”

“Says the guy who called my spray can a dildo.”

“Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to.”

“Besides, sex is the sole reason we exist at this moment. That you’re even here talking to me. So of course everyone-”

“-oh my god-”

“-no listen, you started it-”

“-good fucking lord. I can’t deal with another adult child right now!”

At that, Casper flinches and stops whatever retort he had prepared at the tip of his tongue. But as Seokjin keeps on watching his face, he realizes how the repression seems to be tormenting him physically. Casper has hollowed his cheeks, trying to keep the air inside and it’s making him look like a human balloon. He’s eyeing the streetlights suspiciously, looking down at his own shoes. Seokjin runs a hand over his face in frustration.

“Fine. Just say it.”

And Casper doesn’t miss a single beat. “You need to do some serious self reflection if all you're surrounded by are adult children. I’m sure you know that your IQ is the average of 5 people you hang out with. Someone of your profession shouldn’t hang out with children disguised as adults. Look, I’m not saying I am one of them. I’ve never even seen you in my entire goddamn life but it seems to me that you deal with them on such a regular basis that it’s making you frustrated in your life. Apologies for the fact that I forgot you’re drunk and probably sleep deprived but you called graffiti art vandalism and I took it sort of personally.”

If Seokjin was half sober a while ago, he’s completely sober now. It’s just his great luck that he somehow managed to stumble upon a living, breathing nutcase while drunk on his way back home. “You can’t be for fucking real.”

Casper coughs in his fist, “I just explained why I’m not a ghost.”

“That’s not what I-” Seokjin starts but at this point he feels like he’s talking to a tube light with a face, “you know what, never mi-”

“Yoongi hyung? Who are you talking to?”

A new voice appears from somewhere in the dark of the alley. Ghosty…Casper…Yoongi flinches where he’s standing and looks back over his shoulder. Concern flashes over his own face at the sight of a boy much taller than Yoongi. A snapback on his head, a black mask and similar dark clothing adorns the guy. He’s got a backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, the zipper opened far enough that he can see silver cans inside.

“Huh.” Seokjin says absentmindedly, “more makeshift dildos.”

Yoongi groans, the new guy does a double take, his eyes widened into round saucers in sheer horror and he glances inside his bag. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi shakes his head in disappointment. “You seriously need to get laid.”

The new guy looks at them one by one. “What the fuck is going on, hyung? Who is this man?”

Yoongi waves a hand, “just some guy,” he says right when Seokjin reaches out to the new guy and says, “Kim Seokjin.”

New guy is wary about shaking his hand, eyeing his outstretched palm with apprehension. The delay should deter Seokjin but he blinks instead. The new guy seems to get over it eventually and holds his hand to shake. “JK.”

“A pseudonym?

JK shrugs, “I sort of just use my initials.”

Letting his hand go, JK and Yoongi share a look between them. Seokjin eyes them curiously. They look like a duo of bandits out on patrol. JK looks down at Yoongi, “Hey Yoon- ah, Agust-”

“Don’t bother,” Yoongi just sighs in surrender, a grin escapes Seokjin’s face, “he’s already heard my name.”

“Right,” JK shifts his weight awkwardly, “so, I’m done with my drawing. Guess we should go.”

Done with his drawing of a 3D dick. If Seokjin is disappointed that they’re both leaving without showing him the masterpiece, he tries not to show it on his face. Yoongi nods and starts to turn away from Seokjin, “good night, Seokjin-ssi. I hope you get to have sex tonight to get it out of your system.”

With that, Yoongi starts walking away. But JK stares at the back of his head in horror, looks back at Seokjin awkwardly, “hey um, sorry on his behalf. He’s not always like this. Sometimes he is. But not always.”

Seokjin lets out an awkward chuckle, “your hyung is quite…intense.”

JK looks back towards Yoongi who has stopped beside a streetlight and is waiting for JK to join him. “That’s one word to describe him.”

Seokjin focuses on where Yoongi is standing, now waving over his head to get JK’s attention. A smudge of dark against a less darker background. If there had been no light behind him, Yoongi would’ve dissolved into it. But now it looks like he has a halo behind him.

“Hey JK,” he doesn’t take his eyes off Yoongi, but he reaches into his back pocket and brings his wallet out. “I need you to do something for me.” When JK asks, Seokjin hands him a card he takes out of his wallet.

“Tell him to contact me whenever he gets a headache.”

***

In the perpetual current of life, Seokjin has forgotten many things over the time. Yes, he can rap the names of all the four thousand two hundred and thirty nine names of the biotech drugs in a heartbeat but ask him what the last name of his oldest aunt from his mother’s side is and he will only come up with multiple question marks over his head. He and his friends in med school had a cat that would creep into their room through the window whenever it was hungry- he named it Password.

Sometimes it is hard to even remember how many cubes of sugar he had put in his coffee. People first, your own life is second- is the motto he has to live by. And mostly it is gratifying, but on some days it just gets too much.

Especially when he’s dealing with rude patients.

“I told you to continue taking the medicine even if the pain stops,” Seokjin tries not to scream, he keeps his voice to a level. “You only had to continue for a week-”

“I don’t see the point in continuing if the pain stops,” the gentleman throws back. Seokjin wants to shake her shoulder and scream -then why did you even come here you know-it-all son of a bi-!

“But you see,” Seokjin says instead, “not continuing might make you resistant to antibiotics.”

The guy shrugs as if he doesn’t care about what Seokjin has to say. “I’m just here to inform you the pain is gone.”

Seokjin scratches his forehead.

“But I haven’t been able to sleep properly.”

At this point, Seokjin should go all not-my-circus-not-my-monkey on him. But he plasters a fake smile on his face for the sake of his job. If the director finds out, he’s dead meat in the morgue downstairs.

“So!” Seokjin chirps despite it all, “when did it start?”

Seokjin has forgotten to eat his lunch yet again.

It’s 6pm on a Thursday evening and he has been on duty all day. Without protein in his system and the shrilling voice of this one kid yelling “you look like doctor mike!” (“I look better than doctor Mike!”) over and over again in his head, he walks through the halls to the cafeteria feeling like a ghost. The food there has always tasted stale but to an empty stomach and a hungry mouth it feels like manna from the greater heaven.

Seokjin doesn’t eat with his colleagues, they have long since steered clear of him in the hospital premise. Not that they’re rude to him if they stumble upon, though for their own good. No one wants to get on the bad side of the future son-in-law of the director of the hospital. Certain kinds of power come with certain kinds of loneliness. How Seokjin got himself in this situation is an entirely different story. But he’s no fool, he understands the jealousy that creeps into his colleague’s voice when they talk to him. Only if they knew the real story, Seokjin is sure that envy would turn into pity in a matter of a second.

He left his phone god knows where at this point, so he takes one spoonful of rice in his mouth, chews and stares at the blank wall as it is staring right back at him.

“I called him though, hyung.” Someone says from the table beside him. “But he hasn’t picked up.”

Seokjin concentrates on his food. Rice and chicken gone cold, stale vegetables. Another guy from the table next to him speaks through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Are you sure he works here? He could have been a quack for all we know.” The guy takes another bite. “He was drunk out of his mind that night.”

“I’m sure.” The first guy replies, “didn’t you hear the receptionist say his chamber is on the fourth floor?”

“But he hasn’t picked up. This is why you shouldn’t expect favours from drunk strangers.”

“Yoongi hyung, he’s a doctor. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

Seokjin’s chewing has slowed down significantly upon hearing the name. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. The name rings a vague kind of a bell. Where has he heard it before?

“What did you say was his name again? Lim Seokshin?”

The roll in his eyes is evident in the voice of the guy when he replies, “ah, hyung. It’s Kim Seokjin.”

The speed in which Seokjin turns his head towards them is sure to cause him a cervical fracture. Good thing he’s still inside the hospital. From the table next to him, two pairs of eyes stare at him. One, big doey and rapidly blinking and the other, unblinking and frustratingly unbothered.

“Wow, there’s your quack, Jeongguk-ah.”

Over the course of the years spent with his nose inside the pages of thick illustrated books, Seokjin has developed selective memory and forgotten many things. There are some things he intentionally forgets for the sake of his sanity. But then, there are some things he forgets out of habit as if his hippocampus has developed a muscle memory of its own.

But those nonchalant but sharp, judgemental eyes are unmistakable. And it’s a miracle that he has spent months without even thinking about his brief encounter with this one Yoongi. But sitting here in the hospital cafeteria and hearing that slightly demeaning tone directed towards him, punches the event to the forefront of his mind.

“Wow, Casper the unfriendly ghost!”

“I’m sorry,” the crease in Yoongi’s forehead deepens, “but don’t you have like, a rule against talking about ghosts in the hospital? Isn’t it superstitious?”

There is something about Yoongi that gets on Seokjin’s nerves and out of spite and sheer pettiness, he also wants to get on Yoongi’s nerves in return. So without much consideration about where he’s at, he blurts-

“Not when they’re as cute as you are.”

The other guy with Yoongi, JK or Jeongguk, if Seokjin’s memory is to be given any credit, stops the spoon right in front of his face in disbelief whereas Yoongi just shakes his head in utter disappointment.

“I knew you had issues when Jeongguk told me you gave him your number.” Yoongi goes back to his sandwich.

Seokjin spins the spoon in his rice, feigns being upset, “yet you never gave me a call. We were having such a fruitful discussion on the lack of evidence for the existence of ghosts!”

“And the lack of self-awareness in your circle of friends.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin chuckles for good measure, “I thought we could continue when I wasn’t on the verge of passing out.”

Yoongi glances at him from the corner of his eyes, “you must really be a good doctor-”

“-why, thank you-”

“-because simply having your card in my trashcan kept all of my headaches away.”

Now, Seokjin really is not in the mood to go head to head with Yoongi. Among the three of them, if anyone deserves to be in a salty state of mind, it should be Seokjin. He had just suffered through this kid yelling about how he looks like doctor mike. Which is bullshit. He looks a thousand times better than doctor mike!

It’s not until his silence stretches that Jeongguk finally pipes in. “Seokjin-ssi, I apologize on behalf of Yoongi hyung.” Seokjin glances at the man in time to see him rolling his eyes and looking down at his plate. Jeongguk clears his throat, picks his nails and Seokjin can maybe guess where this is going. This is not the first time in his career.

“It’s just that, I came here to ask for a favour.”

He guessed as much. Seokjin spreads his lips in a smile, one he practised and perfected very well over the years. As much as Yoongi gets on his nerves, Jeongguk isn’t all that bad.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Jeongguk goes on to explain some things- how he’s been experiencing shortness of breath, a bit of dizziness and sudden chest pain- while Yoongi doesn’t participate and looks at neither of them. “It’s not that I’m too concerned, yet,” Jeongguk adds at last, “but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get checked.”

Seokjin can appreciate that. “You did the right thing. How about we make an appointment? I’m full today.”

Jeongguk grins from ear to ear like a child who just got candy as a reward. “Sounds great.”

Beside him, Yoongi shuffles and presses his fingers on his temple. But he doesn’t say anything to either of them. Seokjin doesn’t bother him this time. But a few seconds later Yoongi stands up and heads toward the door, and not before muttering, “I’ll be outside.”

Seokjin follows Yoongi out with his eyes, the path he took, and before long he’s gone. But he seems to feel stuck, not being able to take his eyes off the route even if he wants to. Yoongi isn’t even that cute. It must be the long hours that tend to be so exhausting he can’t even whir his motor functions.

It’s Jeongguk who clears his throat and brings him out of his trance. “I’m sure money wouldn’t be an issue for the diagnosis but if it is, then I can offer Yoongi hyung up as payment.”

Seokjin whips his head in horror at what he just heard. “It’s not like that.”

Jeongguk hums and grins so hard his eyes disappear. “Sure.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been living a celibate life.”

“And I’m a very loyal man.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Seokjin squints his eyes at him, “yah, are you allowed to make such promises without your hyung in the room?”

If it’s possible, Jeongguk’s grin gets even wider. “He wouldn’t scold me if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Seokjin, for one, is not worried about that. Yoongi seems to be prickly only with him after all.

Chapter Text

Song Jiyoo is the prettiest woman to exist on this earth. Long straight hair, a small face, tall, long legs. Every man’s dream. Seokjin doesn’t know a single person in the hospital who hasn’t taken a liking to her, past or present. Even back in medical school boys would flock to everywhere she was headed. She is also one of the most self-assured, confident women he knows. There is not a single bone in her body that is timid, not a single filter in her mouth. Jiyoo was at the top of her class in medical school. How she would do it was beyond Seokjin, but in hindsight, having a glaring father behind her every move didn’t leave any other choice. At least, that was something Seokjin could relate to.

But unlike Seokjin who found himself in the throes of the world of medical science against his will, Song Jiyoo thrived in it much like the rest of his peers. There had been times when Seokjin would look at her and think of giving up because there was no way he could compete with that sort of resilience, while other times it was Jiyoo who helped him get through the most difficult of times in that godforsaken proverbial hell.

Song Jiyoo was everything Seokjin’s parents wanted him to be. Brilliant, reliable, hardworking. Beautiful on top of that. In a way, that might have been one of the reasons why Seokjin was initially drawn to her. But to say he fell in love with her wouldn’t serve the demands of his liking. A sense of admiration should suffice, for a lack of better words. He admired Song Jiyoo because his aspirations inclined to hers by proxy.

It’s not that anything went wrong between them over the years. They had been classmates, then study partners because Seokjin was desperate and Jiyoo liked the attention, then friends and eventually something more. It’s just that, it felt wrong right from the start because it was too convenient from the get go like they got together for all the wrong reasons and never attempted to make the necessary corrections. Mostly because it added on to both of their pride, a beautiful doctor dating another really handsome doctor, they were the picture perfect duo people would ogle at when they passed by. A power couple. It felt nice, great even, marvelous if he’s being honest. Until it didn’t.

Not to mention, Seokjin had no idea who Song Jiyoo’s father was. Had he known what lineage she came from and what would await him further down the line, he would have quit medical school before she could spell the word aneurysm.

But if the long line of ancestral brilliance in the medical field failed to teach Song Jiyoo anything, it's how to deal with stress in a healthy way. Although not confirmed, Song Jiyoo’s penchant for nicotine and liquor is thought to have run in the veins of her family for generations. Unlike Seokjin who had to climb to the rooftop of their home after his mother went to bed after midnight, Song Jiyoo wore that crown fiercely and proudly in front of the public eye.

Song Jiyoo did not give a fuck about public scrutiny as long as she had the highest grades, the latest designers and a handsome boytoy in her arms. Her peers hated her because they wanted what she had, a kind of apprehension which Seokjin had to endure by extension because he was found by her side at any given moment at any given day.

Which is to say, Seokjin had fared through his fair share of relationship drama all throughout medical school. As a result of which, Song Jiyoo had become overly anxious and paranoid and started thinking that everyone and their grandmother wanted a piece of what she has.

“Are you cheating on me again?” It’s not a surprise to Seokjin when Jiyoo snatches the cigarette away from his hand and promptly takes a drag without any hesitation.

Seokjin scoffs and glares at the smoke curling up from the ashes, “with whom? A fucking ghost?”

Jiyoo rolls her eyes, “last time it was a patient. So it’s close enough.”

Even in the cold, Seokjin’s ears start to burn. The one problem she has even after being highly intellectual and unfearing of anyone in this goddamn world is that - Song Jiyoo is extremely inconsiderate and arrogant. He curls his fists.

“The woman just found out she had stage 2 lung cancer.”

Jiyoo takes another drag. “So she had to hold on to you for dear life?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Seokjin tries to pluck the cigarette away from her hand, but she takes a step back. “She was crying and ended up grabbing my apron. She didn’t even touch me.”

Jiyoo scoffs, “as if that would cure her.”

“Be reasonable for once-”

“See, now you’re defending her-”

“She’s married with a husband and two kids, Jiyoo what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jiyoo throws the cigarette on the floor and stumps it with her heel. “Since when has marriage ever stopped people from cheating?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut. He does not want to hit where it hurts. Least of all to Jiyoo, despite everything. The nature of her parent’s marriage is no secret to him. Even after all these years he still remembers Song Jiyoo’s shoulders shuddering as she wept in his arms back in his dorm room when she told him about how she walked in on her mother on the bed with one of her colleagues. But Seokjin is not going to bring that up. He isn’t going to word himself in the same sentence as her mother just to prove a point.

He takes a deep breath in. Even the open balconies of a hospital smells like suffering. If it weren’t for the visual signs strewn all over the city, with how much time he spends in this building, Seokjin would never realize what time of the year it is.

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me, Jiyoo.” Seokjin rubs a finger under his nose instead of sniffing, the cold is starting to get to him. Maybe he should start taking his own advice with all those medicines he prescribes to his patients. In front of him, Jiyoo clenches her jaw.

“Are you cheating on me or not?” She says at last, her long nails digging into her palms.

“No.”

“You don’t call me or reply to my texts. You don’t see me when I ask you to.” Jiyoo inhales sharply. “So what would I make of that, Jin?”

He isn’t going to lie, she is right. But Seokjin always had a hard time pretending to like something he doesn’t. Doing that took him nowhere other than the road to eternal misery. He feels stuck- in a life he didn’t choose, with a girl he doesn’t love, living a life he never wanted. It’s as though he’s traveling through the perpetual darkness of a tunnel, with no sunlit end in sight. He fears this will follow him to his grave. Not that he hasn’t died a million times already in his lifetime. Yeah, that must be it.

He has no gloves, so he puts his hands inside his pockets to keep his hands warm. “You of all people should know how busy I am.”

Song Jiyoo’s waist-long, luscious hair slightly dances in the cold breeze as she’s looking out at the city, while Seokjin feels his own hair flutter in the opposite direction.

“You can’t break up with me, Jin,” she looks at him sideways. “Not after all this time. Not when-” she breathes out, “our families are involved. Everyone here knows we’re engaged.”

Seokjin clenches his fists inside his pocket, “we’re not engaged.”

Song Jiyoo laughs a laugh that threatens to boil Seokjin’s blood down to the vessels, melts into his bones. She turns to face him, an eyebrow raised. “It’s a concept. Not walking around with a ring on our fingers makes zero difference.”

Seokjin feels his tongue paralyzing, seized of all control by his own brain. He knows every word coming out of her mouth is true. There is a reason why none of his colleagues approach him, they wouldn’t risk even accidentally crossing the Kim Seokjin, Song Jiyoo’s soon to be husband. The future son in law of Song Il-seong, the man who literally runs the hospital. Everyone knows how much Song Il-seong favours Seokjin merely because he’s dating his daughter. A simple slip against Seokjin could send them all flying out of the bathroom window, their careers flushing down the toilet. But that only means Seokjin has been a victim of revulsion from his peers- he only got to where he is because of his girlfriend, his girlfriend is only with him for his looks. It’s nearly impossible for him to breathe at times. Not even the nebulizers can help him at this point.

“It’s not official until it’s official.”

Jiyoo only scoffs, “good luck telling that to my father. And yours. They’d be delighted to know your take on our progress. I’m sure they’re going around distributing the cards as we speak.”

Seokjin slowly narrows his eyes at her, “you would love that, wouldn’t you?”

Jiyoo takes a step forward and Seokjin isn’t coward enough to back out. “I know you don’t love me, Jin. Don’t think of me as a delusional fool.” She grits her teeth, “but get this, I’m not going to live feeling as though I wasted all these years of my life on you for nothing.”

Now it’s Seokjin’s time to scoff on her face, “and you think I don’t know the only thing you care about is your reputation?”

Jiyoo smirks, shifts her weight on the back of her heels, “maybe you’d understand if you were in my shoes, sweetheart.”

Seokjin doesn’t even blink when he says, “those heels you’re wearing seem awfully painful. I’ll pass.”

A beat. Then two. The only thing cutting through the silence is the whistling wind that picked up somewhere in the middle of their verbal tussle. Song Jiyoo takes a step back. That particular jab seems to have rendered her speechless. Maybe because she understands that she can’t make Seokjin empathize with her, that the only cards she can play against him are their families. Song Jiyoo is too smart not to catch up on that.

She closes her eyes, exhales and then opens them, “if you’re banging some whore in the streets the least you can do is let me know.”

If Seokjin did that, Jiyoo’s picture is going to be on the news for committing homicide the very next morning. “Bold of you to assume I’d confide in you.”

“It’d be wise of you to invest in your future wife, don’t you think so?” Jiyoo smirks as she turns and heads to the door, “I’ll have my eyes on you Kim Seokjin.” She grabs the handle and looks back over her shoulder and winks, “like I always have.”

It’s like a game of chess that never ends. The pawns, knights, bishops, rooks- all gone. Left are the battered and bruised kings and queens, pointing their swords at their opponents. One wrong move and it’s checkmate. And right now, Seokjin doesn’t feel too confident about winning.

***

“Teokdin. Teokdinnie. Teokthin hyung!”

The 4 year old Seokjin is holding in his arms is poking his cheeks with her finger as Seokjin is glaring daggers at Jimin.

“Park Jimin, I will ki-,” Seokjin stops himself before he causes a child to endure a lifetime of trauma. He’s evidently in a really sour mood but the last thing he wants to do is take it out on someone completely undeserving of it. He ran into Dr. Park holding the kid in his arms in the hallway when returning to his chamber and Jimin promptly handed the kid over to his arms. He can only guess Jimin has been running through the halls screaming his name and the kid picked it up. “Please just tell me what this is about.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “whoa, you’re giving up without a fight?”

Seokjin is moving his head this and that way to avoid getting poked, which seems like it’s even more amusing to the kid. “Whose child is this?”

Jimin gasps dramatically, “she’s my patient hyung! Show some respect!”

That eases some of his weariness. Of course she is. A child in a hospital is never a good sign, be it their parents or themselves. It’s just that Seokjin has been on a defensive mode since his conversation with Jiyoo. It hasn’t been easy to get out of that headspace. He sighs and runs his fingers through the girl’s hair.

“Oh? What’s your name sweetie?”

The girl throws her arms up, “Heewonie!”

“Peony?”

Heewon giggles, “noo, Heewonie!”

Seokjin acts like he can’t hear properly, “crayon-ie??”

“No, hyung!”

“Yah, it’s samcheon for you!”

Heewon throws her head back and laughs so hard she almost falls backwards. Seokjin has to do some professional level footwork to keep her from falling. When she topples back over and hides her face in his chest, Seokjin runs his hand down her head and looks at Jimin.

“So what’s this about?”

“Well,” Jimin scratches the back of his head, “her mom brought her to me because she’s been coughing non-stop. Turns out she’s been having problems with breathing as well.”

Seokjin immediately understands the course of action now. “You don’t have a spirometer with you?”

Jimin looks sheepish, “no.”

“Aish, Jiminie,” Seokjin turns around towards his chamber and asks Jimin to follow him.

Park Jimin is known to be vaguely clumsy at times. Fresh out of medical school and thrusted right into this world of madness. One look at him and one sentence out of his mouth and Seokjin immediately knew he came out of an affluent background. Most likely still unmarred by the dirty politics of the human world. Seokjin thinks this because the memo where it emphasizes on staying out of Seokjin’s line of sight didn’t seem to phase Park Jimin ever. He’s untroubled and gleeful, even around Seokjin. The negative aura Seokjin thinks he exudes is cancelled out by Park Jimin’s super positive one. Like he isn’t afraid of stepping out of the invisible boundary and crossing him.

Then again, if Jimin loses the job, he can very well move on and go find another with a snap of his fingers. That’s the thing about people with generational wealth. Normal people's rules don’t apply to them.

That is not to say Seokjin isn’t fond of him. He very much is. Park Jimin offers a kind of comfort absent in Seokjin’s immediate environment. He’s like a cool breeze on a sizzling summer day, warmth of a fire on a cold winter night. Which is probably why the kids are particularly fond of their beloved doctor Chhim Chhim. The boy is still a kid himself.

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Park Jimin?” Seokjin exhales dramatically, walking faster and faster to his chamber with Heewon on his arms and Jimin on his tail. It’s not long before he feels something odd on his shoulder. And it’s not the responsibility of all of his patients. Instead, the thing on his shoulder feels suspiciously sharp like teeth.

“Heewonie, no!” Jimin screams.

“Ah, fuu-uh- udge!” Seokjin stops in his tracks and tries to pry Heewon away. The girl is biting on to his apron for dear life, wetting that spot of the fabric in the process as she giggles like the spawn of the devil. “Not the apron!”

They’re not far off from his chamber, at the side of which there are chairs in a row and column arrangement for patients in waiting. Now Seokjin isn’t too bad at memorizing of all things, but most times he doesn’t remember all the patients who are supposed to pay him a visit on any given day. So when he’s hunched over and trying to pry Heewon and her death bite on his apron away, a pair of black and white vans appear in his limited line of vision.

At first, he doesn’t think much of it. Too busy wrestling with the girl in his arms, he thinks this is someone wandering through the halls in search of something. But the pair of vans don’t go away in the absence of Seokjin’s attention. They stay rooted in the floor until Seokjin eventually manages to pull Heewon away and stands back up straight, welcomed by immediate scrutiny from a pair of sharp, feline eyes.

“Dr. Kim.”

Yoongi is not his patient. Yoongi would not be his patient even if Seokjin offers to pay him out of his own pocket for his treatment. Seokjin fucked up with that first impression very royally. So it is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, to see him merely existing in front of his chamber.

Seokjin momentarily forgets about Heewon in his arms and Jimin standing right behind him. There is something about Yoongi that puts him in a trance, like he is a subject Seokjin cannot help but dig his nails into, dissect him and see what’s inside. And not in a crazy doctor who wants to experiment on living subjects kind of way. Maybe it’s the nonchalance from Yoongi that gets under his skin, in that lazy way he’s looking at him right now. Or maybe it’s his affection for going head to head with Seokjin at any given moment that scratches the right itch in his brain. He doesn’t know what it is yet. But between Yoongi and the pyramid of Giza, Seokjin’s gaze will veer towards the man.

“Ah, hyung,” Jimin’s voice brings him out of his reverie, as he pulls Heewon from his arms and takes her himself. “Give me a few moments in your chamber and I’ll use the spirometer quickly and get out of your way.” Seokjin looks back at him and nods without uttering a word. Then Jimin smiles at Yoongi and says, “apologies for the inconvenience. Your doctor will be free for your check up shortly.” With that, Jimin scurries away before any of them has a chance to correct him.

Seokjin looks back at Yoongi who is staring at Jimin who waddles fast inside Seokjin’s chamber with the little girl in his arms. “Jimin’s new here,” Seokjin clarifies even though Yoongi didn’t ask anything, “he forgets things sometimes.”

With a brief delay, Yoongi looks at him slowly, blinking in a lazy way. “Isn’t that like, a disease or something? Dementia?”

Seokjin never thought he would be hearing about Jimin in relation to dementia but here he is. He blinks in surprise, “uh, you mean amnesia?”

Yoongi tilts his head, “there’s a difference? Don’t they both mean loss of memory?”

In his state of emotional fatigue, this subject hits him like an intellectual stimulant. Like crack cocaine to a crazy toddler. In his awe of Yoongi, he thinks that this is really it, this is what he’s been studying for. Explaining the difference between dementia and amnesia to a wild pokemon named Yoongi in front of his room after fighting with his girlfriend is really what he’s been studying medicine for all these years. This is where all his hard work is going to pay off.

He tries to explain it as simply as possible. “Amnesia isn’t what you see in the movies,” Seokjin smiles, “it’s the inability to recall specific information or form new memories. While dementia is more of a,” he tilts his head, “broader term, like a decline in the entire cognitive functions which includes memory loss. You are at the risk of losing your core identity with dementia. With amnesia, I would recognize you but I would have a hard time remembering your name. But if I had dementia, I wouldn’t recognize you at all.”

With delight, Seokjin watches Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “So which one does Jimin have?”

At that, Seokjin bursts out laughing. “Neither, Yoongi. He’s just clumsy.”

Yoongi purses his lips, “right.”

Seokjin almost feels giddy, like all the exhaustion he’s been feeling since a while ago has evaporated in thin air. He clasps his hands together behind him and bounces a little on his heels. He’s trying to meet Yoongi’s eyes, but the man is looking everywhere but him.

“I’m so surprised to see you here,” he grins, “do you have a headache? A stomach ache? Throbbing pain in your chest?”

If anything, Yoongi’s furrowed eyebrows now dig even deeper. But what that does is prompt Yoongi to look up at him. Seokjin surely counts that as a win.

“You sound awfully happy about the idea of me being in pain.”

“What can I say,” Seokjin shrugs happily, “comes with the job.”

Yoongi tilts his head again, “being a sadist?” Seokjin only shrugs again. He doesn’t care that he is coming off as goofy, he’s just happy to see Yoongi. Meanwhile, Yoongi exhales. “It’s not me. I’m here with Jeongguk.”

“Oh.”

A splash of cold water on the face out in a snowstorm would hurt less. It’s like the cluster of water balloons Seokjin had in his mind have all popped at once, wrenching him out in the real world. Of course, haha, why would Yoongi come here to see him for no reason.

The disappointment must show on his face. Because he notices Yoongi raising an eyebrow right away.

“Dr. Kim, don’t tell me it’s you who has amnesia.”

Surely, Seokjin does not have amnesia. He is just a little heartbroken is all. He sighs at last, fine if this is how life is going to treat him. “No, no,” he says softly, smiling “I remember Jeongguk, I remember him very well actually. Good kid. Very cute. So cute I want to adopt him. But I just thought you came to see me on your own accord.”

Silence is a luxury in a hospital. Someone is always screaming in pain, calling out a name, or patients trading agony in the waiting area, kids running around. Despite it all, the silence between Seokjin and the strange man standing in front of him is deafening. Like hearing static in his ears. He should really get his ears checked for Tinnitus.

It’s Yoongi who recovers first, shaking his head. “You can’t adopt Jeongguk because I already adopted him.”

Seokjin gulps inaudibly, so they’re choosing to ignore things now. Fine, he can roll with it.

“Ah, damn it.”

In return, Yoongi only shrugs. But Seokjin is itching. Not in his skin, but in his head. Like he wants Yoongi to address what he said earlier. He will take a pissed off Yoongi over one who doesn’t seem phased at all. But he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate.

So he pushes a little more and says, instead, “can we co-parent him?”

“No. Go get your own kid.”

For brownie points, Seokjin throws in a pout. “Come on, Yoongi, don’t be so selfish.”

Finally, Yoongi brings both of his hands up and rubs his face in frustration. Seokjin notices his hands then, pale and veiny with knobby knuckles. Yoongi’s fingernails are short, like really short. The edges are uneven and wavering. It’s very obvious to him that Yoongi has a habit of biting his nails.

“Dr. Kim,” Yoongi exhales for what seems like the hundredth time since they met, “I’m trying really hard to be nice to you because you are treating Jeongguk out of a favour. And I really hope you take your job seriously because I’m so tempted to convince Jeongguk to see another doctor right now.”

“You can’t do that to the kid.” Seokjin gasps dramatically, “he loves me!”

“Dr. Kim-”

“It’s Seokjin.” He cuts Yoongi off suddenly, having had enough of the formalities. “Call me Seokjin from now on.”

Yoongi looks around for something or someone to save him. “I’d really rather not.”

That makes Seokjin laugh. “Do you know how many Dr. Kims are here? You will never be able to trace me with my surname. Besides, in our household Dr. Kim is my father. And I’m just Seokjin.” He scrunches his nose, “so kinda weird being called that, you know.”

It’s not too much information. It’s barely anything at all, but enough of a hint for a switch to go off in Yoongi’s head. The exhale he releases is so heavy, it will be enough to cause a tornado in the world of ants. “Fine. Whatever.”

And Seokjin counts that as a win too. With another smile, he opens his mouth to tell him how grateful he is for Yoongi to be complying. But if life has taught him anything, it’s to never let his guard down. But sometimes, he forgets about it.

Within a second, the giddy feeling in his stomach sinks in the pit, disappearing in the constant rush of his blood as he feels a hand snaking around his elbow from the back.

“Babe, what are you doing here?”

It’s in Yoongi’s sharp eyes that Seokjin sees Song Jiyoo. Yoongi’s eyes turning to someone behind him, then dropping to where Jiyoo has grabbed him by his elbow- Seokjin sees all of that before he feels Jiyoo’s presence. It’s not long before Jiyoo rests her chin on Seokjin’s shoulder and looks over.

“Oh, hello.” She says to Yoongi, “you must be his patient.”

If Jiyoo’s sudden appearance phased Yoongi, he’s very good at not letting it surface on his face. He is nonchalant as ever when he shakes his head and says, “no, my brother is.”

Seokjin does not feel betrayed at all. Totally not. Not like Yoongi ran a stake to his heart. First, Yoongi said Jeongguk was his apprentice. Then his adopted child. Now he’s saying Jeongguk is his brother. If anything, the inconsistency in their story is enough to warrant some investigation. If they’re brothers, then whatever Jeongguk has may very well be related to Yoongi as well. And wow, Seokjin is so intrigued to open that can of worms.

Song Jiyoo lightly rubs Seokjin’s arm with her palm as Seokjin shifts his weight onto a different leg. Seokjin doesn’t look at her, but he feels Jiyoo humming and looking around. “Where is he, Jin? Is it serious? Is he in the ER?”

He should’ve just said Yoongi is the patient.

It’s one thing to forget about the actual patient, and a fuckery of a different level to not know where they are. He’s been too taken with Yoongi to ask about Jeongguk but he very well cannot say that to Jiyoo. Just like how he can’t say Jimin is occupying his chamber right now. Unless he wants Jimin to get in trouble.

But Yoongi is nothing but sharp and quick on his feet.

“He’s alright. Just in the restroom.”

Of course he is. Where else would he be? He feels Jiyoo’s smile on his shoulder, one that has been practiced for way too long. The one that she doesn’t let reach her eyes. Seokjin feels like he’s being sandwiched between two icebergs from the north pole with a pair of googly eyes stuck on them. And he’s freezing in the middle. Dying actually. He thinks it’s better not to open his mouth anytime soon, lest he ends up saying the wrong things in front of Jiyoo.

“Oh, my bad.” Jiyoo smiles, as she finally stands beside him. Immediately, he’s reminded of his last encounter with Jiyoo and his mood sours right away. “Don’t worry though,” she taps Seokjin’s arm, “your brother is in very good hands.”

Yoongi’s gaze flitters, from her face to her hands around Seokjin. He nods stiffly, “I would hope so, uh-”

“Jiyoo,” Jiyoo offers with a quick questioning look at Seokjin. “Song Jiyoo.”

“Jiyoo-ssi.”

And oh, a mistake has already been made. This is Seokjin’s cue to finally cut in. He forces himself to smile for the sake of it all, “where are my manners? Yoongi-ssi, this is my girlfriend, Jiyoo.”

Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze from Jiyoo to Seokjin with a subtle wince. Maybe a little taken aback by Seokjin’s sudden retreat to formality. “I can tell,” he says, “ It is very obvious to me, Dr. Kim.”

And oh, that one hit right where it hurts. He just convinced Yoongi to call him by his name. Seokjin flinches. Beside him, Jiyoo laughs in her usual high pitched tone. Then she looks at him, “see, Jinnie, even a stranger like him can tell.”

Seokjin refuses to look back at her in return. He curls his fists, his jaw suddenly clenches. In front of him, he can see all of Yoongi’s guards suddenly rise up all at once. Gone is Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor from seeing Yoongi. Now it’s replaced by his fight or flight instincts. Seokjin purses his lips and doesn’t say anything. So Jiyoo takes up the responsibility to fill up the silence.

“But he’s being too humble, actually,” if anything, her grip on Seokjin’s arm tightens. “I’m his fiance. We’re going to get married soon.”

Absolutely nothing changes on Yoongi’s expression. He remains stoic as ever, like nothing in the world can phase him at all. “Oh? Congratulations.”

Jiyoo giggles again, “thank you!” Then she finally loosens her hold on Seokjin and gestures down the halls, “well, I gotta go. My patients are probably wondering where I’ve vanished.”

Seokjin gives her a tight lipped, forced smile. “Alright.”

Song Jiyoo doesn’t waste a second to grab Seokjin’s chin and gives him a light kiss on his cheek. Says, “bye hun.” and walks away.

In truth, Seokjin is a tad bit embarrassed. In any other circumstances, it wouldn’t have bothered him. But the fact that this had to happen in front of Yoongi is making him want to run to the morgue and hide amongst the dead bodies.

He stares at Jiyoo’s retreating back until she disappears, not bothering to give Seokjin another look back over her shoulders. At the same time, he hears the door to his chamber open and close. He spares a glance back at the direction and sees Jimin tippy toeing out of the room with Heewon in his arms.

When Jimin gets closer, he cranes his neck to see if the hallway is clear and whispers to Seokjin, “hyung, is she gone?”

Seokjin doesn’t want to risk using his voice, lest it comes out all raspy and embarrassed. So he only nods. Heewon jumps in Jimin’s arms, “Chhim chhim and I play hide n sheek!”

And Seokjin gulps down his pride, along with the tightening knot in his throat. He pats Heewon on the head. “Did you have fun, sweetie?” Heewon nods enthusiastically. Seokjin looks at Jimin, “did you check?”

Jimin’s expression grows a little dim, a faint shadow casting over his face. Seokjin knows that feeling, the dreadful drop of the stomach that comes with being right about a diagnosis. Jimin is still new to the entire thing. With time, doctors get used to it. But some never do. Empathy is a curse in disguise.

“It’s what we thought.”

Seokjin exhales. Things like this never get easier. He pats her head and smoothes down her unruly hair. “Talk to her parents, yeah? Politely.”

Jimin nods, then bows once to Seokjin and then at Yoongi before leaving. Now with everyone gone, Seokjin is left to face Yoongi again. With a sad smile on his face, he manages to meet Yoongi’s eyes already staring at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yoongi asks before Seokjin can get any words out of his mouth. He nods. “Does it ever get easier?” Yoongi gestures to the path Jimin took. “When the worst you think can happen happens?”

“In a job like this, we have to grow a thick skin.”

Yoongi doesn’t blink, “but does it get easier?”

Seokjin shakes his head, “not really.”

Yoongi hums. Who knows what’s going on in that head of his. Not Seokjin, but he would like to know. It would be amazing if science could invent some kind of an X-ray machine that could scan the thoughts of a person. Like mind reading, but scientifically.

Yoongi doesn’t prod further. Seokjin’s skin feels jittery, his knees wobbly, like he won’t be able to stand straight for too long. Even looking at Jiyoo sucks all of the energy out of his system. Since Yoongi won’t ask, Seokjin smiles at him.

“Jiyoo and I…it’s complicated.”

“I don’t want to know.” Yoongi rubs his nose with the back of his hand, “not my circus, not my monkey.” Then he clears his throat, “congratulations on your wedding though.”

Seokjin’s eyes wrinkle at the corner, “I’d honestly rather elope to Norway with you.”

At that, Yoongi lets out a humourless laugh. One that can only come out of the mouth of a villain in a thriller film. But Seokjin still stares at him like he’s in awe, because this is the first time he’s seeing Yoongi laugh at something he said.

“Dr. Kim,” Yoongi humours him, “you don’t even know me.”

“My point exactly.”

Yoongi’s smile drops like an elevator, “can you be serious for once? At least while you’re treating Jeongguk? He’s the one thing I do not play about.”

“I didn’t think you played about anything at all.”

“Dr. Kim.”

“I can assure you Yoongi, I-”

“Yoongi-ssi,” he cuts Seokjin off sharply, “it’s Yoongi-ssi for you.”

It’s Seokjin's fault for sure, he will be the first one to admit. He took the liberty to drop the formalities with him, then picked it up like a coward at the first sighting of an inconvenience. Truth be told, Yoongi re-establishing the honorific is like a slap to his face, like he crawled three steps forward only to jump four steps back.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Seokjin takes a deep breath, complying for once. “I may joke around a lot but I take my job very seriously. You don’t have to worry about Jeongguk.”

“Easier said than done,” Yoongi says right before craning his neck to look behind Seokjin. “Jeongguk-ah, you’re back.”

Seokjin spins on his heels to come face to face with the boy. Today, Jeongguk is dressed up more casually in loose fitted clothes. A lazy lopsided boyish grin adorns his face.

“There was a line in there,” Jeongguk gestures vaguely at the direction of the restroom with his thumb, then addresses Seokjin. “Seokjin-ssi, you’re here!”

The enthusiasm in Jeongguk’s tone is an exact one eighty degree of Yoongi’s. And Seokjin is relieved to finally see someone who matches his energy. He grins back.

“Of course, I am!”

Jeongguk giggles, “has Yoongi hyung been bothering you?”

Seokjin looks back at Yoongi just in time to see Yoongi rolling his eyes. “Not at all. He’s been a lovely company.” At that, Jeongguk looks so proud that Seokjin cannot help but laugh.

“I’m glad,” he rubs his nose with the back of his hand, an action much similar to that of Yoongi’s. Jeongguk stage whispers, “I’ve been training him for that.”

Seokjin grins again, this time, raising his eyebrows at Yoongi. It’s not a surprise to him that Yoongi needs to brush up on his social skills. He has all the potential, a diamond in the rough. And there is nothing more he wants to do at the moment than stand here with the two of them and chat, hear all of their stories. But he has a job he needs to get back to. There are eyes and ears everywhere around him and he cannot spend any more time avoiding them than he already has.

“As much as I’d like to stay here with both of you,” Seokjin exhales, looking back and forth between Yoongi and Jeongguk, “I should get back to my chamber.” Then he turns to Jeongguk, “wait a little bit, alright? I’ll call you soon.”

Jeongguk grins and nods enthusiastically. Turning back to Yoongi, he sees him pursing his lips tightly.

“Yoongi-ssi, I hope to see you soon as well.”

Yoongi only rolls his eyes.

It’s not long before Seokjin calls Jeongguk inside. He’s been itching for that for so long. But he had to keep his head in the game and attend to the rest of his patients professionally. Truth be told, he was hoping that as Jeongguk’s guardian, Yoongi would like to be present during the visit and he cannot help but be disappointed to find out when that isn’t the case.

“Hyung doesn’t want me to feel uncomfortable,” Jeongguk says as he adjusts the chair on the other side of Seokjin’s desk.

Biting the inside of his cheeks, Seokjin opens his notebook to a fresh, new page. He’s a geriatric millennial who still doesn’t use an iPad to take notes like most of his peers. But the main reason for still practicing the ancient art of writing with a pen and paper is that he thinks his handwriting is plenty adorable. Despite being unintelligible to most people. Screw them.

There are plenty of questions he needs to ask Jeongguk for the diagnosis. The history of the symptoms, when did they start, how severe they are, if he has any allergies. But there are also some questions he wants to ask him right away, lest he doesn’t have the chance to ask him later. He still doesn’t know where they live, what they do and how to reach them in cases of (fake) emergencies.

“So, Mr. JK, let’s start with the important questions,” Seokjin gives him the most professional looking smile he can muster up. He cannot let that slip right now. “What is your relationship with Yoongi-ssi?”

***

Kim Seokjin does not have any siblings.

As an only child, he did receive undivided attention from his parents. But it also meant that all of his parent’s (mostly his father's) expectations and the responsibility to take care of his family in the future fell onto his shoulders. They may be as wide as the world, but there’s only so much he can carry.

The pressure began right when he started high school. His father was a busy man. Growing up, Seokjin knew that being a doctor would warrant a financially secured future, but it also came with making tons of sacrifices. Seokjin’s father missed most of his birthdays, a good portion of the weddings of his older cousins and half of the Christmas celebrations. For him, work came first. His mother owned a small bakery in the area where they used to live when he was little and as busy as she was with maintaining a business, she managed to make time for Seokjin to the best of her ability. But even that had its limitations.

Until his parents got divorced right after high school, Seokjin ran away from home a total of three times.

The first time was when his father raised his voice at him. It had taken Seokjin a hell lot of courage to say what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“I want to pursue acting, dad.”

His voice came out meek and dainty. At the age of fourteen, there aren’t many alternatives to seeing the world through rose tinted glasses. Seokjin didn’t grow up struggling. Both of his parents working meant that they were well-off enough to own a car, go on vacations twice a year and buy all of the latest technologies the very moment they hit the market. Not to mention, their hospital bills were always well taken care of.

So he thought it’s a reasonable thing to do- wanting to choose his life for himself. He didn’t think there could be any downsides to that. He was hard working and resilient, knew what he wanted and how to get what he wanted. He had a sharp brain, good results to be able to get into the university of his dreams. So he didn’t think much of it when one night he casually brought it up at lunch.

“You want to be an actor?!” His father’s voice boomed through the roof, “might as well get out of my house right now!”

And so he did. He lasted less than twenty four hours out in the cold, didn’t even make it till midnight. With no place to go and no money in his pocket, he came back to his mother frantically pressing the buttons of her phone in front of their house. While his father was nowhere to be seen. Seokjin hadn’t talked to him out of anger for the one month that followed and his father reciprocated the sentiment.

Status was important to Dr. Kim, legacy came first. He was used to making sacrifices and maybe that is why he didn’t think twice to make one on behalf of his son.

Kim Seokjin does not have siblings, but he has a cousin who was like a little brother to him. Seokjin’s mother has an older sister who had been married for years with no children. So by proxy, Seokjin became his aunt’s makeshift son in the best way possible. Aunty Eun-kyung adored Seokjin like her own son, always bringing him gifts whenever she visited, babysat him when his parents were busy and took him to trips with them during vacations. And Seokjin was just happy about having an extra mom.

After a lot of planning, going abroad for treatments and regular prayers at the temples- Kim Taehyung was born when Seokjin was seven years old. Everything Seokjin knows about brotherly love, he knows because of Taehyung. He was a quiet little child, and Seokjin had the time of his life tying him at the backseat of his bicycle to ride around the entire neighbourhood and sneaking him out to buy him ice cream when Taehyung was old enough. Later, Kim Taehyung went on to pursue modeling and now keeps going back and forth between South Korea and France (and literally every other country in Europe) for his job.

And Seokjin misses him terribly.

It’s not a coincidence that he is suddenly reminded of Kim Taehyung. It’s Jeongguk and his adorable doe-y eyes and goofy, teethy smiles that reminded him of Taehyung. Even more so, the scene in front of him.

Seokjin has just gotten out of work, not long after Jeongguk’s visit. But the strenuous working hours are terrible for keeping track of real time. So he can barely tell how much time has passed. He steps out of the hospital, into the streets alone. Jiyoo had gone back to the parking lot to bring her car. Apparently they had plans for dinner tonight that Seokjin cannot remember for the life of him. But he knows not to argue.

Seokjin wasn’t expecting to see them again, not tonight anyway. Weariness has cloaked him, fatigue invaded his cells- but it’s a sight so warm he cannot help but linger.

There is a cart at the side of the road that sells a wide variety of Korean street food. Sometimes when Seokjin doesn’t feel like having lunch at the hospital cafe, he comes out here and spends his hard earned money on fried chicken and bungeo-ppang. Standing in front of that same cart now are Yoongi and Jeongguk.

The light from inside the glass surrounding the cart paints Yoongi in all shades of golden. Some of it mixed with the natural pink of his cheeks and turned him a soft orange. He’s wearing a hoodie a size too big for him, with Boy vs World written across his chest. Yoongi holds his untouched corndog and offers it up to Jeongguk, who takes such a huge bite that half of the corndog is gone in a second. Yoongi stares at his half corndog for a moment in stunned silence before he bursts out laughing, doubling over and everything. Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck and bows a little in apology.

A laughing Yoongi is a sight for Seokjin’s sore eyes, like the warmth of the burning fire in a chimney mid January. Seokjin wants to borrow that fire for a while before he has to go back to the freezing reality. So he stares, wanting to soak in the comfort of the gold.

Yoongi’s eyes find him soon, while taking a bite of his corndog and he’s rendered to a standstill. Jeongguk notices and follows his line of sight until he sees Seokjin.

“Seokjin hyung!”

And that pulls Seokjin out of whatever reverie he was in. He smiles back and approaches them.

“Jeongguk-ah, my boy!”

Yoongi stares between the two of them, mutters, “what the fuck?”

From what Jeongguk had told him, Yoongi is not his biological brother. Seokjin had asked because he wanted to check if genetics could be responsible for Jeongguk’s condition. And if it were, then Yoongi might be suffering as well. Turned out he has no reason to worry about that. Seokjin hadn’t pried into their relationship further. It’s obvious that they’re very close and brotherly despite not being related by blood. And Jeongguk didn’t provide any more information on his own accord since it was completely irrelevant at the time.

“Ghosty, always a pleasure,” Seokjin chirps with a bow.

Yoongi scoffs, Jeongguk laughs and holds his half eaten corndog in front of Seokjin. “Do you want some, hyung?”

Seokjin doesn't want to interfere. These two were having a moment of their own and it’s not like Seokjin didn’t notice the light in Yoongi’s eyes suddenly going out the moment he laid his eyes on Seokjin. He wouldn’t want to overstay his invite either when he did not even receive an invitation in the first place.

So he lightly waves his hand in front of him, “no, no it’s fine. Thank you though.”

“Jeongguk-ah,” it’s Yoongi who calls him, “Dr. Kim obviously has better places to have dinner at. Surely, his palette is way more exquisite than ours.”

The static of tinnitus is back in Seokjin’s ears as they both go very warm at the shells. To say that the environment has gotten awkward is a monumental understatement. The entirety of Jeongguk’s face has turned downwards as he brings the corndog down to his plastic plate. His spirit drops. Seokjin stares at Yoongi who is staring right back at him. Yoongi isn’t wrong, dinners at expensive restaurants with state of the art interiors that look gorgeous and majestic on Jiyoo’s instagram is an occurrence of a random tuesday for Seokjin. But Seokjin is not a rich snob who views the rest of the world as inferior to him. Far from it actually.

Seokjin has no intention of picking a fight with Yoongi and the look on Jeongguk’s face is killing him and eating him up from the inside.

“My exquisite palette is filled with corndogs and bungeo-ppang,” Seokjin says, gesturing to the young boy who is manning the hem of the cart, “I once had his grandmother’s kimbap and tteokbokki until I couldn’t move.”

The real owner of the cart is an ahjumma Seokjin had known for years. It’s only recently that she fell ill and her grandson took over the cart. Seokjin was the one who referred his grandma to another doctor and made all the payments out of his own pocket and told them it was on the house. The boy isn’t as well acquainted with Seokjin as his grandmother was, it was her daughter who ran in and out of the hospital when grandma got sick. Seokjin prefers it that way now. He may be a connoisseur of using his charisma to charm old ahjummas but he doesn’t know how to win the affection of a boy who is half his age at the very least and may or may not feel indebted to him. .

Jeongguk shifts first, a smile slowly blooming on his face. “It’s that good?”

Seokjin nods, “mmhm, the very best Seoul has to offer.”

“Did you know,” Jeongguk is grinning now, “Yoongi hyung is a great cook too.”

A brand new information on Yoongi. Seokjin eats it up like the glutton he is for Yoongi. With raised eyebrows and surprise written all over his face, he turns to the man.

“Oh? So when do I get to taste your cooking?”

With a mouthful of food, Yoongi gives him a stink eye. “Surely, never.”

Seokjin holds his chest with both of his hands in mock pain, as though Yoongi’s words have wounded him deeply.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk calls, “be nice to him.”

This time the way Yoongi looks at Jeongguk is not the affectionate kind he usually reserves for him. Yoongi’s face is now hard and resolute, like he wants to shake Jeongguk in order to knock some sense into him. First Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but Seokjin sees the exact moment Yoongi changes his mind and closes both his mouth and eyes. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi’s voice sounds defeated, “can you give us a moment? I have something to discuss with Dr. Kim.”

It was obvious to Seokjin from the start that Jeongguk is a good kid. He knows from his conversation with him that he’s only nineteen years old, more than half a decade younger than Taehyung. He may have his quirks and demands and is used to getting his way with Yoongi, but it is very obvious that Jeongguk knows exactly when to shut up.

With a timid, meek bow Jeongguk leaves and stands right at a corner like a child who just got punished. From the corner of his eyes, Seokjin watches Jeongguk coughing before he hugs himself.

“You know Yoongi,” Seokjin muses as though the man isn’t standing right in front of him, “you should go easy on Jeongguk.” He turns with his hands curled inside his jacket pockets. “He’s sick.”

Yoongi asks for a tissue paper from the boy by the cart and wipes his mouth. And Seokjin, being the guy that he is, cannot help but stare at the action and the object the action is being done to. Yoongi has thin lips that are somehow also plump, now even more so because of the spice and the residue oil from the junk food. Seokjin is half tempted to reach out and wipe the oil with his thumb.

“Do you always take an interest in your patients’ personal lives?” Yoongi wipes his lips one last time before throwing the tissue in the trash can. “And I thought I asked you to call me Yoongi-ssi.”

Seokjin doesn’t even give two shits about formalities outside of the hospital. He shrugs, “don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me honestly, Dr. Kim,” Yoongi drawls in a certain accent that is hard to pinpoint exactly, like he’s lived in the city long enough for his original accent to be buried deep within already. But sometimes, it peeks through. “Are we a joke to you?”

Seokjin straightens his spine. All he does is make a few jokes here and there and tries to get under Yoongi’s skin because the guy intrigues him so much. But has he ever done anything to disrespect either of them? Not to his conscious knowledge.

He concedes, “I can use formal language if it means so much to you.”

“It’s not about the honorifics,” Yoongi shoots, “and I know you know that.”

Seokjin should have known he couldn’t trust Jeongguk about it. He asked him not to tell Yoongi because he knew Yoongi wasn’t the type to want to take favours. Although it was Jeongguk’s call, it’s apparent how heavily involved Yoongi is in this.

“He’s just a kid, Yoon-”

“And this is your job.” Yoongi cuts him off, Seokjin’s mouth stays open mid sentence. “We may not be as wealthy as you are, but I’d rather you take our money than be indebted to you forever. You saw us painting on a wall once and immediately assumed we can’t pay for a doctor’s visit. Do you understand the implications Dr. Kim?”

Seokjin stays stunned. He opens and closes his mouth rapidly but no words come out. The thought had not crossed his mind even for once. But truth be told, Jeongguk didn’t seem as pissed as Yoongi does. In fact, he didn’t seem pissed at all. No one ever does.

Yoongi continues. “You people have this…god complex!” Yoongi raises his voice just a little. “Fuck, I get it. I really do. And you may have made Jeongguk very happy by refusing to take the money he saved by working part time jobs but like you said,” Yoongi looks at Seokjin like he wants to grab his shoulders and shake him until his words are ingrained into his neurons, “he’s just a kid. I don’t want him to grow up thinking he can maneuver the world so easily when that is so not the case.”

“Yoongi,” Seokjin calls him slowly as though any more pressure will scare him away. He’s not entirely sure what the issue is here. Even though money is a sensitive subject for most people, he’s never faced this sort of an obstruction from any of his previous patients he offered free treatment to. “I was simply trying to make things easier for him.”

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, soft like silk and cotton, glowing gold. If him looking away in the direction of Jeongguk (who, by the way, is sneakily trying to eavesdrop) says anything, it may be his subtle resignation. Seokjin had underestimated his fondness for the little guy.

“People like us shouldn’t get used to free stuff, Dr. Kim.”

Jeon Jeongguk is sick, and not in a way Yoongi may be comprehending. His continuous coughs and his shortness of breath- it’s not a simple flu. It hasn’t been too long but it surprises Seokjin how Jeongguk managed to hide it from Yoongi at all. Seokjin hasn’t told Jeongguk about it because he wanted to talk to Yoongi first.

Seokjin opens his mouth to reply, say something before Yoongi solidifies him in the list of his most disliked conceited assholes. And he knows Yoongi has a lot of them. But lady luck is not in his favour tonight.

Before he can get any of the words out, a blaring horn from behind him disrupts his state of being in all its entirety. He can recognize the sound even in his nightmares. Seokjin himself may be loud, but Song Jiyoo is louder.

“Jinnie?”

Seokjin looks back in time for Jiyoo to shut the door with a loud bang before she starts approaching them. From his periphery he sees Yoongi beckoning Jeongguk back. There goes his perfect opportunity. He still has some time left before Jiyoo reaches them and he uses that to bring his card out of his wallet fast as though he’s about to miss a train if he doesn’t hurry. Seokjin turns towards Yoongi once with desperation written all over his face, barely paying any heed to it, and shoves the card in Yoongi’s hand. He’s not sure if he was able to be discreet enough but it will have to do for now.

“Please, call me.” He’s begging at this point. “I need to talk to you.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens like a fish out of water in surprise, rendered speechless. But his brain seems to pick up the SOS smoke signals because Seokjin notices him fisting his hand to hide the card, only just in time before Jiyoo reaches them.

“What are you doing here?” Jiyoo inquires sharply as she stops right beside him.

“You remember Yoongi-ssi,” Seokjin, like the coward that he is, uses formal language again. “You saw him this evening.”

Jiyoo squints her face at Yoongi with scrutiny written all over her face. Yoongi’s face remains passive. “Right,” she says, “your brother was sick.”

“That I am,” Jeongguk has managed to practically run up to them after Yoongi called him. And he’s panting hard when he reaches them. Seokjin’s eyes widen on their own volition and he can’t stop himself before blurting-

“Jeongguk, I told you not to run. Take it easy.”

“Don’t worry, hyung.” Jeongguk laughs, “I have strong lungs.”

It’s Jiyoo who makes a dismissive sound at that, like she can’t believe how naive Jeongguk sounds right now. One part of Seokjin wishes the ground opened itself up and ate him up whole, the other wishes to throw Jiyoo inside it instead. Either would do.

“Kid, do you not know Seokjin is a pulmonologist?” Jiyoo scoffs. “If you came to see him, then your lungs are anything but strong.”

Jeongguk’s lungs are, indeed, not as strong as he believes them to be. But Seokjin is not the type of doctor to bring the motivations of his patients down a couple of notch. Song Jiyoo is the exact opposite, she believes in brutal honesty which comes out as insensitive at times.

And Jeon Jeongguk is Seokjin’s patient.

Seokjin cannot bring himself to look at Jeongguk, and he does not even have the audacity to look at Yoongi right now. Instead, clenching his jaw, Seokjin turns to his “fiancé”.

“Jiyoo.”

Song Jiyoo looks up at him as if she has no idea what she has done. “What?”

“Go back to the car. I’ll be there in a second.”

Jiyoo doesn’t say anything at first, then gives both Yoongi and Jeongguk a slow, scrutinizing once over that makes Seokjin’s blood boil.

“Hurry up,” she says finally with an eye roll, “we’re already late for the reservation at Soigné.”

As Song Jiyoo walks, the click clacks of her heels sound like a ticking time bomb, or the clock of Seokjin’s life that’s slowly running out. Seokjin feels sick to his stomach, he wants to go back to his bed and cover himself up with his warmest blanket. He wants to run away, he wants to never talk to a single human being ever again.

Instead of his eyes, Seokjin looks at the writing on Yoongi’s hoodie. A helpless boy vs world indeed.

“That’s your girlfriend?” Jeongguk asks out of nowhere. Seokjin hums noncommittally.

To his credit, Yoongi refrains from making any discourteous comments. But this time, Jeongguk isn’t so forgiving.

“Seokjin hyung,” he muses, head tilting sideways as he stares at Song Jiyoo walking away, “do you have a thing for obnoxiously rude people?”

Seokjin briefly closes his eyes before opening them, meeting Yoongi’s eyes dead on as he does. They’re not the same, maybe on the surface, but they couldn’t be more different from each other if dug deeper.

Yoongi doesn’t break the contact, smirks just a little and raises an eyebrow as though challenging him to a duel, daring him to answer that question. And Jeongguk coould not have spoken any truer words.

Because god, Seokjin just might.

Chapter Text

Kim Seokjin jolted awake from a sex dream about Yoongi.

“You had a what about whom?”

The throbbing buzz in the frontal part of his head is due to nothing but the amalgamation of alcohol and nicotine. If anything is of any consolation, Jimin sounds just as slurry as Seokjin feels. It is very juvenile, very embarrassing to have a sex dream in your thirties about someone you only met a couple of times, and Seokjin hopes when the buzz is all out of his system the both of them will forget about all of it and go merrily about their respective lives.

“His name is Yoongi,” Seokjin presses a palm on his forehead in an attempt to lessen the pulsing ache. Seokjin, personally, aimed for drinking himself to death. Thankfully the music inside the bar is soft and mellow, although Jimin’s nagging is anything but.

Jimin’s jaw hangs. “A man?!”

“Shhh!” Seokjin holds up a finger, slowly pressing it on Jimin’s mouth. “Jiyoo knows the owner here.” He takes his hand back when Jimin closes his mouth, “and I’m only telling you because you are going to forget it.”

“I’m going to forget it,” Jimin repeats like a chant, circling his hands in front of him like he’s cooking magical broth in a cauldron. “I’m going to forget it.”

Seokjin tries not to think of the contents of the dream he had last night, he’s drinking to forget it after all. But his head is swirling with all things promiscuous. Yoongi in a white shirt, Yoongi wearing shorts, Yoongi in nothing but his birthday uniform. Which is insane, Seokjin doesn’t even think of Yoongi like that.

Jimin thumps his hand on the counter, “Jin hyung, you don’t like the guy like that, do you?”

Seokjin scoffs. “Are you crazy? Don’t wanna die a painful death.”

“Mm. Madam Song will, in fact, kill you.”

“I’m not talking about Jiyoo.”

Surely, Yoongi doesn’t seem to be the perpetually hostile type considering how Jeongguk reveres him. But Seokjin personally didn’t experience anything from Yoongi’s chart of emotions other than disdain and wrath. But maybe they simply got off on the wrong foot. What did he even say about graffiti? He only vaguely remembers calling it vandalism but in his defense he was drunk as shit that night. Yoongi couldn’t still be holding on to that, he has nothing against his kind. He knew of another graffiti artist back in his hay days, a certain Kim Namjoon. Great guy. Seokjin liked him very much.

“Yah, Park Jimin!” Seokjin suddenly calls.

Jimin’s chin hangs on his chest. “Ye hyung.”

“Do you think it’s okay to paint a 3D dick on a wall?”

In the moments that follow, Jimin looks like he’s seriously considering the question instead of questioning Seokjin’s sanity. It’s a miracle that Jimin doesn’t. His respect for Jimin goes up by a mile. If he wasn’t his sunbaenim, he would definitely kiss Jimin on the forehead and let him live to tell the tale.

“That depends,” Jimin finally answers. “Is it big?”

“Maybe.”

“Girthy?”

A shrug. “I guess.”

Jimin takes his glass and takes a swig. “For free?”

“Most likely.”

Jimin contemplates, looking upwards. “Huh, where is it?”

Seokjin perks up at that. The place where he literally stumbled into Yoongi that fateful night is most likely a couple of blocks away from this place. Seokjin couldn’t have drunkenly walked farther than that. In truth, he almost forgot about the painting he never really saw but only heard of. Drinking again in the bar seemed to have unlocked a memory stored away deep inside the iceberg of his subconscious mind. In truth, he would like to see it. In truth, he wouldn’t mind bumping into Yoongi holding a spray can again.

Pointedly, he raises his brows. “Probably five minutes away.”

“You’re not pulling my legs are you, hyung?”

“Do I look like someone who’s good at lying?”

“Ye.”

“Your generation has no respect for the elders.”

Jimin puts the glass down on the counter and narrows his eyes at Seokjin, trying to see clearly through his bullshit. “Show me or it doesn’t exist.”

Seokjin shakes his head in mock disappointment. What a pervert.

Jimin takes both of their phones off the counter and puts them inside his pocket. Seokjin pats him on the back before pressing onto his nape like a proud hyung to his obedient little apprentice. And that reminds him of Jeongguk. Subsequently Yoongi. Then Yoongi in his dream last night.

Seokjin violently shakes his head. He cannot be thinking about Yoongi in that light. He has a girlfriend, he’s going to get married to her soon. His father and Song Il-seong will call an “important” meeting about these two any day now. His life is already planned out for him.

And they did not keep any spare space to fit Yoongi into it.

They walk not more than a single minute, before Jimin starts hurling. And Seokjin even in his swirly mind cannot drag Jimin along with him to hunt for a painting of a dick. He holds his forehead as Jimin empties his stomach. Bringing his own phone out of Jimin’s pocket, he calls a cab and shoves Jimin inside.

Finding himself alone in this achingly familiar street yet again, Seokjin slouches his shoulders. He’s starting to think that Jeongguk’s drawing is simply a lore and doesn’t quite exist. He is never going to see it.

Despite his bruised confidence and skewed morals, Seokjin walks.

The space where Seokjin had first stumbled into Yoongi is now empty, save himself toiling about. He’s just as drunk, just as miserable. And there’s a familiar tightening inside his chest. The one that comes with feeling powerless. All that money and inherited wealth means nothing when he’s flattened under the heaviness of grief from the life he once wanted to live.

And to think he came back home because he didn’t have a single penny in his pocket.

Nothing about the moment is warm. The breeze, the lights, the out-cold stars. Seokjin’s hands. Jimin’s abrupt departure. This desolation. With a friend by his side, he could feel even the least bit invincible, a sudden surge of conviction of there being zero consequences to certain actions. Then he shakes his head, laughing a little to himself for being so stupid.

Jimin is not a friend.

Kim Seokjin doesn’t get to have a moment to himself for wallowing in self pity. Because with a deafening cry that sears through the density of the night, his cellphone rings. His chin hangs in defeat. There is only one person who could be calling him at this ungodly hour of the day and he’s not really in the mood to have a fight over his whereabouts right now. If Jiyoo is not going to let him live in peace, the least she could do is let him rot in peace.

But in truth, he does feel a little lonely.

Reluctantly he brings his phone out, not being able to see the caller ID through his blurry vision and manages to swipe up at the last ring.

“I’ve been thinking about how you asked me to call you so desperately. And this better be really important as I’ve paused my work only to call you because the image of your anguished face has been haunting me at night. It sucks. But I want to know what it’s about.”

It takes Seokjin several seconds to put two and two together, and he somehow arrives at five.

“You…you think about my face in bed?”

Quiet ensues. Seokjin sifts through the haze of his mind to put a name to the voice. It’s familiar, causes a thrumming hum in the underside of his skin. But it’s hard to think clearly. Whom did he ask to call-

“Don’t make me regret this, Dr. Kim.”

An unwitting smile blooms through his stifling airways. Maybe the only thing that has made him smile so genuinely in a hot minute.

“Yoongi!” Seokjin cannot help but crack up, doubling over as he starts laughing from the deepest core of his chest, like a madman, the depth thrashing through the quietness.

Yoongi grunts. “Why are you laughing like a maniac?”

“You wouldn’t believe where I am right now!” Seokjin grins, “take a wild guess.”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Yoongi says apathetically.

Seokjin’s smile doesn’t die down, but an unwelcomed hiccup finds its way out of his mouth. “The place where we met for the first time. Isn’t it funny? I’m standing where you stood months ago and you called. Like you’re here in true spirit. Like a ghost! Remember you told me your name was Casper? I don’t believe in the red string of fate, Yoongi-ssi, but do you? Is it real? Can you feel its pull?”

He is not in the right state of mind to filter his words. They appear in front of him like glow-in-the-dark stars and he’s tracing them with his finger one by one like milestones on a map. On the other side of the phone, Yoongi shuffles.

“Are you drunk, Dr. Kim?”

“I’m off the clock.”

“What?”

“You can call me Seokjin.”

A sigh cracks through the speaker. “I’m more concerned about what you’re doing there drunk and alone. It’s not…safe.”

That makes Seokjin chuckle. “How do you know I’m alone?”

“Anyone would’ve taken the phone out of your hands the moment you started spewing bullshit about fate and red strings.”

Seokjin closes his eyes and hums, he’s almost drifting away. But he remembers where he is and shakes his head, forces his eyes to open and stares at a lamp over his head.

“I’m on my way to see the 3D dick Jeongguk painted on a wall here.” Seokjin murmurs, “but I’m not quite sure where it was at all.”

He does not remember either Yoongi or Jeongguk mentioning anything about it, nor did he ever ask for its location. The only thing he knows is it should be around here somewhere. Maybe if he turned another corner of the street, peaked into one of these dark alleys.

“Stay where you are,” Yoongi’s voice startles him almost. “Don’t go around butting your nose into places you know nothing about.”

Seokjin looks around. Still, not a single soul in sight. “Is it in the alley right in front of me? Or is it- ”

“There is no painting of a 3D dick, dumbass.” Yoongi sighs from the other end, his words effectively shutting him up.

Did he hear Yoongi wrong that night? “What?”

“Listen,” urgency shuffles on the other end once again, “stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten.”

The next ten minutes is the longest ten minutes of his life.

Something about the sight of Yoongi walking lazily through the nightly artificial light makes Seokjin’s stomach feel warm. The guy must live nearby to be able to walk here within ten minutes. Seokjin has a hand inside his pocket while the other is busy spinning his phone. He grins when Yoongi comes close with an expression of a potential murderer.

“Jeongguk wants to study art,” Yoongi blurts in lieu of a greeting, continuing their conversation on the phone as though it’s the most humane thing to do. Seokjin does not mind it too much. Yoongi stops in front of him for a second before walking past and tilts his head in the direction he’s going. Taking that as a sign of “follow me” Seokjin turns around and does exactly that. “He’s got a real talent for it.”

It’s almost as if Seokjin is being lulled by the pied piper, following Yoongi without questioning his intentions. But his hiccup hasn’t stopped and it comes at the worst possible intervals. Almost as if he’s answering Yoongi with hiccups instead of actual words. He needs to drink water, but he’d rather not mention that to Yoongi right now.

Yoongi looks back over his shoulder as Seokjin pats on his chest to will the hiccups away. “How much have you had to drink?” Then Yoongi scrunches his nose, “and smoke?”

Seokjin rubs his nose, contemplates, “enough to…drop face first if you so much as poke my forehead.”

At that, Yoongi gives him a slow once over. “You’re standing awfully still for someone who drank that much.”

Seokjin grins, “thanks, I have high tolerance. And willpower.”

Yoongi turns back around and walks, “that’s not a compliment.”

Narrowing his eyes, Seokjin watches as Yoongi turns and faces the mouth of another alley Seokjin had walked past before and signals at him to get closer. The light overhead is directly perpendicular to him, casting Yoongi’s shadow right beneath his feet. Maybe this guy is a ghost after all.

“Don’t tell me you don’t drink, Yoongi-ssi.” Seokjin replies after a beat, doing as Yoongi asks.

Yoongi gives him a noncommittal shrug, “I’d rather not waste my money on alcohol. It’s bad for your health. Shouldn’t you know, Dr. Kim?”

Seokjin frowns, “it helps me unwind.”

“You sure do look loosened up.”

“Is that an innuendo I hear, Yoongi-ssi?”

This time, Yoongi frowns. Seemingly trying to remember something. “Have you not gotten laid since the first time we met here?”

Seokjin starts coughing violently into his fist, clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly. What a nosy little shit. In a causal effect, Seokjin is suddenly reminded of his dream about Yoongi last night, heating his ears up right away. It’s the alcohol, he tells himself.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re seeing signs where signs don’t exist.” Yoongi explains, looking ahead into the thin darkness. “Like seeing a mirage of a pond in a desert when you’re thirsty.”

“Huh.”

“I mean you’re delusional.”

Seokjin refuses to dignify that with another reply. Whether it is out of shame or not, he won’t tell. To his relief, something else seems to have caught Yoongi’s attention for him to be distracted. His ears cool down, a knowing relief settles onto Yoongi’s otherwise stoic face, turning his features soft and feathery light and warm again.

Seokjin shakes his head violently and it spins his entire world on its axis.

“Come on, it’s here.”

Through the haze of his mind, Seokjin follows Yoongi inside like a lost child. The alley isn’t too dark or dirty. There are a few abandoned cardboards lying about having silent arguments but other than that it’s not too filthy just yet, like it’s slowly building up to the reputations of its predecessors. Yoongi stands silently in front of the wall and points at it before looking at Seokjin.

What catches Seokjin’s eyes first are incoherent splashes of colours on the wall. Bright and muted yellow, green and blue that look different under the heavy contrast of light and shadow. Shapes that make no sense to him in this drunken stupor. At a first glance, Seokjin cannot distinguish any intelligible shape or form or writing. It’s only a cacophony of colours with unresolved disparity amongst them, like disputing countries clashing against each other but somehow still managing to survive side by side.

Seokjin examines carefully. “Is Jeongguk into abstract art?”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.”

Seokjin gives him an unimpressed look. “I have dabbled into things far beyond your dainty imagination.”

Yoongi gives him an equally unimpressed look. “To answer your question, no. Look closely.”

As someone who cannot disregard a request from Yoongi, Seokjin complies and forces himself to focus hard into the splash of colours. And suddenly, he starts seeing outlines of sharp eyes and a wide nose and two large fangs.

“Jeongguk is still going through the phase where he associates lions with strength,” a faint smile appears in the words Yoongi speaks. “But he’s too well behaved to be drawing the male appendage.”

Seokjin squints at the painting again. Now that Yoongi mentions it, he does see it. The fangs, the impending roar, the faint outlines of what is supposed to be a mane. Seokjin isn’t sure if Jeongguk is into abstract art, but something about this doesn’t seem quite polished. Neither does it look like it’s serving the purpose of what it had aimed to be.

At least, at a first glance.

As though reading his mind, Yoongi speaks from his side. “It’s… incomplete. Jeongguk couldn’t finish it.”

Which makes more sense to Seokjin than the theory of abstract impressionism.

“Is he ever going to?” Seokjin asks, raising a hand to touch the painting and outlining the incomplete roar but then thinking better of it. Instead, he redirects his raised hand in front of Yoongi’s face, accusing. “I was promised a masterpiece.”

Yoongi faces the painting like he’s having a silent stare off with its unfinished eyes. If he could will it to be completed just by staring then he probably would. Seokjin isn’t quite sure what it is that feels so intimate and sensitive about this, Yoongi staring into a painting Jeongguk didn’t finish. The light to his back shines on half of Yoongi, half still engulfed in the dark. Standing here in this chilly dark alley with someone whose last name he doesn’t even know, Seokjin should fear for his life. He knows nothing about the guy.

“How old are you, Yoongi?”

Slowly, like he’s brewing time to think of ways to hide Seokjin’s tall body, Yoongi turns his head. “Why?”

“You have that eternally youthful kind of face going on,” Seokjin says, circling his finger in front of his face. “You could be anything from nineteen to thirty-five. I’m having trouble putting you into a category. So put me out of my misery, will you?”

Yoongi puts his hands inside his pocket, says with his straight-est face, “I turned forty-six this year.”

Seokjin stares, Yoongi stares back. Somewhere on the wall, the lion tries to stare as well. It’s in Seokjin’s best interest to get Yoongi checked for a psychological evaluation. He already has someone in his mind he could refer him to.

“And I’m twelve.” Seokjin deadpans.

“See, you and I can never be friends.” Yoongi says, widening the space between his hands, “the gap between us is too wide to be appropriate.”

“Who said anything about being friends?”

“Don’t they teach you anything about inference in med school?”

Seokjin closes his eyes in defeat before opening them again, “ah, Yoongi-”

“You’ve seen the art,” Yoongi cuts him off, “or the lack thereof. I’m leaving now, you can stay the night here if you want.”

With that, Yoongi walks past him for the second time leaving Seokjin staring into a dead end, the darkness concentrating in the corner. Something about places like this almost makes him feel nostalgic. There was a time in his life when he spent nights here and there, in shady neighbourhoods, hiding his identity and wearing ratty old borrowed clothes and bleaching his hair, using a pseudonym so no one could find him. He didn’t tell anyone his real name, not even Kim Namjoon. He wonders where he is now, what he’s doing, if he’s alive. He wonders where Yoongi was back then. About sixteen-ish years ago. Whether he was in this city, if he ran away and sought warmth amongst the concrete walls too.

“I think Jeongguk left it unfinished on purpose,” Seokjin says into the dark, then slowly turns just in time to see Yoongi stopping in his tracks at his words. “An old friend of mine once told me artists often do that, leave their work unfinished as a way to keep the canvas half blank. It gives the viewer a chance to use their imagination to complete it in their head. Like what it could be if it was painted in its full glory. To me, it sort of looks like an X-ray, the structure of a body without the flesh. Completely bared of its humanity.” He points at the lion, “un-finito.”

Yoongi turns around and tilts his head, murmuring something Seokjin fails to hear.

“What?”

“It’s called Non-finito.”

Seokjin smiles, “my memory is a bit hazy.”

In this lighting, it is hard to discern Yoongi’s expression. He can imagine a little surprise on his face, though, like he wasn’t expecting Seokjin to catch on.

“If you think that bit impressed me then you’re gravely mistaken.”

What a liar. “And if you knew what it was from the beginning you should’ve told me,” Seokjin retorts, “I’m not dumb and I’m not trying to impress you.”

“I didn’t tell you not because I think you’re dumb, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi says, “but because I believe in the death of an artis in any artistic pursuit. The artist’s intention dies the moment he puts his work out in the world. After that it doesn’t belong to him anymore. It becomes what the viewer interprets it to be. It doesn’t matter what Jeongguk’s intention was.”

Seokjin walks out of the alley and stands by Yoongi’s side. “I’m sure Jeongguk would’ve happily explained it to me.”

The difference in their height gives Seokjin a physical advantage, Yoongi having to look up at him to speak. “Unfortunately for you, Seokjin-ssi, I’m not Jeongguk.”

The physical advantage turns out to be a disadvantage to Seokjin himself. The view of Yoongi looking up at him through his flimsy lashes and feline eyes, with lips naturally pouty and pink, hair a little unkempt like he didn’t really have the time to properly comb it. Seokjin is suddenly reminded of his dream once again- Yoongi’s skin pale and creamy, flushed pink right after.

Seokjin forgets how long he spends trying to will the image out of his head. And Yoongi is nothing but perceptive.

“Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi calls out in an attempt to snap him out of his reverie. “Might I remind you that you have a fiance waiting for you at home?”

His ears turn warm and he immediately closes his eyes, shakes his head and then focuses on a faraway tree somewhere behind Yoongi. He sniffs and rubs his nose, opens his mouth to deny it. But even he knows it’s of no use.

“It’s not…like that.”

Maybe it is a hint of a smirk that flashes at the corner of Yoongi’s lips, Seokjin isn’t sure. From the periphery it does look like that. “I have eyes and I saw the way-”

“I’m not talking about…that,” Seokjin runs a hand down his face. “I meant, Jiyoo isn’t my fiance yet. We’re not engaged. We will likely get married eventually. But for now she’s just my girlfriend.” He looks everywhere but at Yoongi’s eyes. As long as they’re not married, they’re not spouses. As long as they’re not engaged, they’re not fiances. “She’s not waiting for me at home. No one is.”

Yoongi hums slightly, which makes Seokjin even more embarrassed. “And that gives you the freedom to pursue anyone you want?”

Those are some big fat words Yoongi is spewing out so casually. Seokjin inhales sharply. He isn’t sure where this is going. Seokjin never “pursued” anyone in the years he’s been with Jiyoo. Yes, there had been numerous times when Seokjin regretted being with her and he so desperately wanted to get out of the relationship. But he never did anything about it. Being the so called high profile, power couple with familial involvement- it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. He would not only be breaking up with his girlfriend but also putting his career in risk and severing the brotherly connection between their fathers. Not to mention how big of a scandal that would create in the industry. Considering the pros and cons, simply agreeing to marry Song Jiyoo seemed like the easiest way out and he took it. Seokjin wants to dig his own grave every time he thinks about it.

Slowly, he shakes his head, choosing his next words carefully.

“If I ever had that kind of freedom, Yoongi, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

By the time Seokjin managed to settle into his rigorous routine in med school, Kim Namjoon had already disappeared. It was right before he started dating Song Jiyoo, when he would go above and beyond in search of him in the places he knew of him to be. Seokjin already had raven hair by then and put-together outfit that didn’t carefully and selectively reveal his thighs. He would skip lunch and frequent the shady neighbourhoods, nearby cafes- just so he could have one more conversation with him, tell him his real name, give him his number, ask to meet again and again. He’s tried searching the internet, but to no avail. Kim Namjoon had wiped himself off the face of the earth.

“You’re staring again, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi snaps him out of his thoughts for the hundredth time. “Careful with that. I might start thinking you’re in love with me.”

Seokjin can’t help the laugh that tears out of his chest. He blinks rapidly. “Love is too strong of a word, but I will say I do kind of like you.” He inhales sharply, “but not in the way you’re thinking.”

Yoongi blinks slowly, “what do you mean?”

Where has this life come to? Seokjin chuckles again, “you just remind me of someone I once knew. Someone I still think of very fondly.”

Yoongi takes a slow step back, likely preparing himself for when he’s going to leave eventually.

“And you’d be with them right now if Jiyoo-ssi wasn’t in the picture?”

Seokjin almost laughs at how Yoongi thinks stuff like these are so linear. If it wasn’t this, it would be that. If it wasn’t her, it would be him. But all Seokjin manages to muster is a low glow smile.

“I’m really drunk Yoongi,” he says, “there is no need to take my words so seriously.”

With a slow nod of Yoongi’s head, the conversation dies down, engulfed in a deafening silence. If it were the countryside, there would be crickets everywhere. While Yoongi purses his lips and shifts his weight uncomfortably, Seokjin continues to stare at the tree behind him.

“It’s getting late. I blessed you with my time way more than I intended to.” Yoongi speaks after an eternity passes between the hollow, empty seconds. Seokjin shifts his gaze to him only to find the guy already half-turned to the opposite direction. His own head spins a little, his dissipation finally catching up to him after a long day and even longer night. Yoongi points his thumb behind him, “so I’m just gonna fuck off and I suggest you do the same.”

At first, Seokjin doesn’t say anything in return, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to go back to an empty house and emptier walls. Through his increasingly blurring vision, he sees Yoongi’s silhouette going further and further away. Seokjin is just so tired that simply breathing is sucking all the remaining energy out of him. Seeing Yoongi was like being high on adrenaline and now that he’s leaving, he’s coming off of the high. He shakes his head to rid himself of the haze again, looking up at the light and then to the side at the alley again. When he sees Jeongguk again, he’s gonna ask what he intended to do with the painting. When he sees Jeongguk again- this Jeon Jeongguk-

“Yoongi, wait!” Seokjin finds himself calling out before he has the time to register what he’s doing. He bolts after Yoongi, raising a hand like the invisible force can make him stop, “Shit, I forgot to tell you! Yoongi stop!”

He runs as fast as his body permits him. Through the blur of his eyes, he’s seeing stars, flowers, sparkly glitters, the image of a thriving nebula- anything but what’s right in front of him. So Seokjin totally misses a step by accident, skipping over as his foot lands on the curved edge of the sidewalk. A little kid holding an hourglass flips it upside down, and in effect, his world does too. The last image he sees is the tilted silhouette of Yoongi looking back over his shoulders and running back.

And then the glass shatters.

***

Kim Seokjin’s head throbs when he wakes up to the deafening sound of pouring rain and a muted aroma of pancakes.

Living in a high-rise apartment all alone and the glass doors to the balcony covering most of the sound and smell, waking up to the amalgamated scent of rain and pancakes is not a usual occurrence. His skin grazes the fuzz of a warm blanket as he struggles to open his eyes to an expected greyscale ceiling.

Instead, Seokjin is faced with questioning his remaining sanity. Painted on the not so high ceiling is a thick bunch of bougainvillaea- magenta, yellow and white- on the backdrop of a clear blue sky. At the point where the flowers thin out, vines swoop in, separate leaves and petals are painted down the walls to give an illusion of them swirling in the wind. Each and every flower and leaf is painted to such precision that Seokjin braces himself for a downpour of the blooms on himself, starts wondering if he really fell asleep in some sort of a secret garden and transported to a different timeline where it’s spring already. His head is throbbing and lies flat on what feels like a mattress with his hands on both sides of his head, trying to catch his breath at the sight.

Not blinking, as though doing that will wilt the flowers, Seokjin murmurs to himself-

“Am I…in heaven?”

Something, or rather someone, snorts in his periphery, “that’s what they all said.”

With a lot of difficulty to move his stiff neck in the direction of the sound, Seokjin blinks his eyes fully open to the source of the voice.

“Oh, you’re here,” Seokjin tries to muster as much astonishment as possible, but it comes out as a low grumble. “Must not be heaven then.”

Where he found the audacity, even he doesn’t know. Seokjin watches as Yoongi holds a torn piece of pancake and shoves it in his mouth. His hair is notably damp, silky strands of his bangs fall over and cover his eyes. Yoongi, wearing a simple white shirt, sits by the low, flat table right in the middle of what seems like the only room in the apartment while Seokjin finds himself lying down on a mattress thrown right on the floor.

Yoongi puts the pancake on a plate, rubbing his fingers to rid himself of the residue oil. Seokjin does not recognize the place but seeing how comfortably Yoongi resides in the space- it’s not too hard to make an assumption.

Seokjin’s limbs feel like expired jelly when he sits up and peels the blanket off of himself, only to find himself in loose, black clothes smelling of a perfume he does not recognize. A side of his head stings, Seokjin touches the spot to come into contact with something scratchy.

“I did my best with what I had,” Yoongi points at the band-aid, watching his every move like a hawk, “you should get that checked as soon as possible.”

Feeling as though his body weighs a ton, Seokjin stands up. He only has to step once to reach the space right at the opposite side of the table where Yoongi is sitting. Seokjin sits criss-cross on the floor, rests his elbows on the table and runs a hand through his hair. Never in a million years did Seokjin ever think he’d one day be waking up to see Yoongi eating pancakes in the morning after a shower as though he does this on a regular basis. But there’s not enough energy left in him to dignify the situation with astonishment.

Seokjin covers his mouth with his fingers, “you brought me back to your place.” He says as a matter of fact, “and put me in your clothes.”

Yoongi shakes his head, the loose strands of hair dances in front of him. “Those are Jeongguk’s. Mine wouldn’t fit you.”

Did he try? Seokjin decides he should not grill Yoongi about that. Silently, Yoongi stands up and reaches for the counter behind him, and comes back with a bowl of clear soup in it. The bowl is warm to the touch when Yoongi pushes it to him and Seokjin takes it with a tiny bow.

“I didn’t have the ingredients for a proper hangover soup, so this would have to do.” Yoongi says as he sits back down and focuses back on his half eaten pancake.

Seokjin examines the soup, stirring the liquid to assess the temperature. It must have been a while since Yoongi prepared it. He blinks at it, biting the inside of his cheeks instead of making a move to drink it. The sight of liquid is not helping him hold things inside. He should not be drinking anything for the time being. An uncomfortable whirl settles in the pit of his stomach.

Which does not escape Yoongi’s notice.

“Is it not to your liking, Seokjin-ssi?”

Seokjin squirms under Yoongi’s questioning gaze. “No, it’s uh,” he finally meets Yoongi’s eyes, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

At that, Yoongi looks at the door and Seokjin follows his gaze, which brings his attention to the fact that it’s pouring outside. He can hear the sound of rain hitting the ground more than clearly like the sound is being drilled into his brain. When he looks back at Yoongi to ask, the latter seems to be lost in deep contemplation.

“The bathroom is outside.”

Yoongi lives in a rooftop apartment with a stunning view of the city’s skyline and the rooftop as his front yard. On a good day, he probably wakes up to the light of the sun and the cacophony of birds.

But this is not a good day.

Living in a place like this means the bathroom is not attached to the room, so he literally has to go outside of the apartment to get to empty his stomach. Yoongi lends him an umbrella which immediately flips upside down the moment Seokjin steps out into the rain. His clothes threaten to fly away to the hazy horizon. And when he comes back as clean as a newborn’s butt, he’s drenched from head to toe.

Water drips from his hair, travels down his body and wets the floor. The clothes stick to him like a second skin. Seokjin runs a wet hand down his face, which does shit to dry him. Yoongi looks him up and down from the floor before getting up and handing him a towel.

“I don’t have any more of Jeongguk’s clothes.”

Seokjin takes the towel from him. It’s damp to the touch. Almost dry. “Should I just get naked then?”

Yoongi tilts his head and stays silent for a moment. “Does this usually work with other people? Jiyoo-ssi?”

Rubbing the back of his head with Yoongi’s towel, Seokjin snorts, a noise so loud it makes it seem like the cerebrospinal fluid from his brain is about to spray out of his nose. Only god knows how long it has been since he’s pulled anything on Song Jiyoo. The naivety Yoongi shows sometimes makes him want to laugh on his face. But Seokjin’s mother taught him not to be rude to others.

“She doesn't care,” he says, moving on to his neck and then chest. Yoongi’s smell lingering in the towel now clings to Seokjin’s own nostrils. He breathes it in, pressing the towel over the shirt to absorb the water as much as possible. “Is it still not obvious to you, Yoongi?”

“Why doesn’t she break up with you then?” Yoongi frowns and crosses his arms, this sweet summer’s son. “Even worse, why don’t you?”

Seokjin stops drying himself to spare a look at Yoongi. He’s standing with his back on the wall now, arms hanging lazily by his sides. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at him.

“Why?” He chaffs, “do you want me to break up with her?”

Yoongi shrugs, “just curious. Since it obviously troubles you.”

Seokjin straightens his back to assert his determination. This is serious business to him.

“I will break up with her if you ask me to,” he jokes, “this offer is only applicable to you, Yoongi, you can’t use your Jeongguk to relay your message. So if you want me to break up with her, say it now. The offer lasts for the next twenty-four hours.”

This time, Yoongi laughs like the twinkles of a bicycle. Like windchimes and tiny bells inside of a temple. His shoulders shake against the wall. The longer Seokjin stares, the more his features soften out. It’s weird, Seokjin thinks, how can sharp words come out the mouth of someone who looks as though god had a reservoir of regality and used it all up to make Yoongi? This is unfair. He should compile a list of pleasant sounding words, print it out as a dictionary and feed it to Yoongi.

When Yoongi returns to his composed self, he puts his hands between his back and the wall, looking up at the painted ceiling. Seokjin notices more things about him then. Man is skinny enough that his collarbones peek out prominently. His angled jawline, double piercings, plump lips puckering up.

“The last thing I wanna do is get involved in whatever mess you’re neck-deep in.” Yoongi looks back down and directly meets Seokjin’s stares with a lopsided smile. “So leave me out of whatever evil plans you’re brewing in your mind right this moment, Seokjin-ssi.”

And that violently wrenches Seokjin out of his trance. He clears his throat, “I don’t have any plans involving you.”

“Your actions say otherwise. I’m not an idiot.”

Seokjin gulps the non-existent lump in his throat and notices Yoongi’s eyes following the exact movement. Looking down, he starts picking at the fabrics of the towel.

“Freedom is a gratifying thing to have, you know.” He murmurs. But in the close space, the words reach Yoongi just fine. He looks up again only to find Yoongi staring at the floor. “Although I don’t have it available in large quantities. So I use it sporadically.”

Yoongi finally pushes off the wall, and with his back towards Seokjin, he steps towards the kitchen sink.

“That doesn’t really concern me in any way or form.” Yoongi says seemingly to no one, “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means,” Seokjin pauses for a second, taking a sharp intake of breath. “In these states of loneliness if someone enamours me, then I will allow myself to be attracted to them without any question.” Yoongi stops moving, then turns back to face Seokjin. “That’s what it means.”

“So you’re desperate,” Yoongi throws back. “It could just be anything or anyone who breathes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” A slow smile finds its way to Seokjin’s lips, “I’m not that easily enamoured, Yoongi-ssi.”

Silence coats the air in thick layers upon thicker layers. Yoongi’s stubborn gaze doesn’t leave Seokjin’s face, searching for some kind of validity in his words. Seokjin holds on as long as he can, but in the end he loses to Yoongi’s lethal, inquisitive face. His eyes drop back to the towel, tracing the outlines of the couple of fabric leaves on it. Outside, the rain is causing a mayhem throughout the city.

Seokjin’s clothes are still drenched and he’s back to questioning himself and his own tongue. What’s gotten into him so suddenly? Practically falling on his knees in front of Yoongi and begging him. He’d be lucky to hit his head and experience amnesia. He should forget about all these things he just said, he should forget about Yoongi.

He knows nothing about the man, what he does for a living, whether he has a criminal record. But Seokjin is here standing in Yoongi’s one-room apartment and he doesn’t feel too threatened. The most Yoongi can do is punch him in the face and call him an idiot.

But-

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that,” is the only thing Yoongi says.

And Seokjin exhales a deep sigh of relief. It’s enough for one of them to be sensible.

By the time Seokjin somehow manages to somewhat dry himself, the soup has gotten cold. So Yoongi shows him some mercy like the saint he is and reheats it without another word and brings it back to him.

“Thank you,” Seokjin mumbles, feeling like a burden on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I can see why Jeongguk likes you so much.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply to that with words, only nods slowly. Seokjin purses his lips, thinking of the dark, overcast sky, the barely visible city through the rain. What a disgrace in the name of a morning.

Belatedly, he recounts the events of last night. It’s all so hazy to him, a blurry mess. Yoongi calling him, seeing Jeongguk’s art. Their conversations now a distant, fragmented dream. Seokjin drinks the soup and it immediately clears his head, engulfing his insides just like Yoongi’s warm blanket.

He tries not to stare too much at Yoongi, lest he thinks of him a creep. Which he probably already does. At the sound of a rhythmic blow of the wind, Seokjin looks towards the only door to the apartment, the sound indicating a gradual dwindling of intensity. Once the rain stops, he will walk out the door and he will never come back here and he will most likely never see Yoongi again.

There is a reason why Yoongi called him last night, the same reason why Seokjin gave him his card in the first place. This is not the circumstance under which Seokjin wanted to have this conversation with him. He would have taken Yoongi to a better place with a pretty view, and worn warmer clothes with the heater on. There is something about his life not going as he plans, like he’s forcing two north poles together before it all goes south anyway.

He will have to tell Yoongi about Jeongguk.

Seokjin breathes in the fresh, earthy, musky smell of the rain trapped inside Yoongi’s tiny one-room apartment. The lingering smell of handmade soup and the pancake that’s already in Yoongi’s tummy. The wide range of bougainvillaea painted all across the ceiling and walls. The sight of Yoongi in his home that’s more homely than Seokjin’s sorry excuse of a skeletal high-rise will ever be. This is not so bad. This is not bad at all.

In a leisurely pace Seokjin almost finishes his soup, not wanting to hurry through his time in Yoongi’s home. When only one spoonful is left, he stirs it instead of drinking.

“You once asked me if it ever gets easier,” he says, catching Yoongi’s attention immediately from where he’s sitting on the opposite side of the table. “When the worst that can happen, happens.” He thinks back on their conversation in the hospital the other day, when Jeongguk came to see him.

Yoongi nods slowly, “has your answer changed since then?”

Seokjin carefully sets the spoon down and shakes his head.

“The little girl who was with Jimin that day?” He asks rhetorically. “She has asthma.”

A sudden flash of empathy shows up on Yoongi’s face. “Poor girl.”

It breaks Seokjin’s heart to hear that, to see Yoongi the least bit crestfallen at the news of an unknown little girl having an illness. It breaks Seokjin even further, down to the levels of the molecules that make him up, to say the next words.

“Asthma usually shows up during the early stages of childhood,” he breathes in. He’s done this a million times before, this should be easy as pie. And yet. He’s never been able to grow that thick skin. “But it can develop at any stage of life in adults too. We call it Adult-onset Asthma.”

Yoongi frowns in confusion, not yet understanding where this is headed to. But for once, he doesn't quip Seokjin about his ambiguity. “And why are you telling me this?”

Seokjin looks down and picks his nails, “it isn’t curable, but with the right treatments people with asthma can live a normal life.” Then he looks up to see Yoongi’s piercing gaze directed at him. “And as long as I’m here, you have nothing to worry about. He’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, Yoongi’s voice grows serious, “Dr. Kim-”

“It’s Jeongguk,” Seokjin screws his eyes shut, finally ripping off the band-aid. And after fighting with his internal difficulties, he faces Yoongi’s gaze again. “Jeongguk somehow developed asthma.”

In a single moment, Yoongi’s resolve breaks, his walls all crashing down. Seokjin watches as Yoongi’s eyes widen at his words and his lips start to tremble in a difficulty of forming words. He starts jittering all over, looking like a crazed maniac.

“Fuck.” Yoongi curses, scrambling to get up. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Without thinking, Seokjin reaches out and cocoons Yoongi’s hands into his own over the table, trying to keep him in place. Yoongi tugs once in protest and Seokjin’s grip isn’t persistent enough to withhold the sudden jerk. Yoongi stands up and Seokjin follows, watching helplessly as Yoongi’s face visibly heats up.

“You’re telling me this now?!” Yoongi starts seething, “I’ve given you so many chances since last night and you’re telling me this now?!”

He isn’t wrong. Seokjin’s breath hitches in his throat, “I’m here, Yoongi, I’ll take care of everything. I know how much he means to you. You have nothing to worry about.”

Yoongi breathes hard, “if you had known how much Jeongguk means to me then you’d have told me about his asthma right away instead of trying to flirt with me.”

How does he tell Yoongi that seeing his face immediately makes him forget about everything else in his life? There are no excuses that can save him right now. So he gives up on trying to come up with one. Besides, Yoongi isn’t wrong.

“Don’t change his doctor,” is all Seokjin can say in his meek voice, “I’ll take his full responsibility.”

“And I can’t allow that.”

“Yoongi-”

“Please just!” Yoongi cuts him off abruptly, looking him dead straight in the eye, “he’s my family so I’ll take care of him. You don’t have to butt your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

The rain has entirely stopped outside, so the only sound inside the room he can hear is his own breathing- heated and heavy. Seokjin hasn’t felt like he belonged anywhere in a long, long time. Not since...well, he doesn't want to think about him now. Often he feels like a ghost, going with the motion of where the wind decides to take him.

Yoongi doesn’t have to pay a penny to him in return, Seokjin is barely doing this for the money. So he doesn’t understand why Yoongi is being so stubborn about it.

“I just want to help.”

Yoongi’s shoulder slump at that, “there you are trying to play god again.” He runs a hand down his face, “can you please leave?” he asks, “I need some time to think, Dr. Kim.”

Gulping down a lump in his throat, Seokjin nods once, “and can you please just call me Seokjin?”

Where he finds the audacity, he can’t even tell. But thankfully, Yoongi’s sigh doesn’t sound apprehensive.

“Fine, Seokjin,” Yoongi breathes out, “get the fuck out of my house.”

Like the shameless troll that he is, Seokjin walks out of Yoongi’s tiny roof-top apartment in Jeongguk’s clothes simultaneously feeling a little more and less burdened than before. The rain has stopped but left a glaring sign on the city. Everywhere it’s still grey, like it could start falling any time again.

It’s only after he carefully walks down the stairs, that he remembers he hasn’t checked his phone in a while. And boy, does he wish he never did. Because the glaring red text written on the screen of his phone immediately makes him want to turn it off and run right back under Yoongi’s blanket.

There is no way in hell he will see the light of tomorrow after fifty-four missed calls from none other than Song Jiyoo herself.

Chapter Text

have you talked to jeongguk yet?

Time passes like a bullet train on crack cocaine.

Blossomed on the perch of Seokjin’s window, few tiny moss-roses thrive beneath the early morning sun. The light through the window casts shadows of the flimsy, grey curtains adored around the frame. His coffee hasn’t had the time to register the room temperature yet, his mug burning to a touch he gladly accepts.

Visually, it is a good morning.

Regarding everything else, it is anything but.

“I begged you to come home last christmas and you ghosted me for months,” Seokjin glares at him. “And now you’re here with no prior notice because what? You got an unofficial invitation?”

Kim Taehyung sits on the kitchen counter swinging his legs to an inaudible tune he must be humming inside his head.

“Well, you weren’t getting engaged on christmas.” Taehyung replies so nonchalantly it makes Seokjin think if he’s overreacting. “Song Jiyoo? Really? Wasn’t it supposed to be a casual thing?”

In the past few weeks, Seokjin had gone above and beyond to try and keep himself from recalling what happened and the way it happened. It started right after he went back to the hospital from Yoongi’s place to a bitter, exasperated, displeased Song Jiyoo. Although for the sake of humanity, Jiyoo kept her anger under wraps for the rest of the day and Seokjin made sure to stay out of her line of vision as much as was humanly possible for him.

But he can detect a breathing volcano, at the verge of eruption, from miles away.

Getting engaged in a month’s notice is not the most unheard of fit, nor is it out of the ordinary for couples who’ve been together a long while. The problem is -and it is a huge problem- that Seokjin absolutely despises the notion of being engaged to Jiyoo.

Song Jiyoo practically kidnapped Seokjin back to her place that night, put him in the spot in front of her father and announced that they have both decided to get engaged as soon as possible. Seokjin stood still like a mannequin, unable to protest what was being done to him as Jiyoo’s father stood up in sheer elation. He hugged Seokjin so tightly he started gasping for air but didn’t protest. Song Il-song is no man he wants to get on the bad side of. So Seokjin gulped it all down like an obedient future son-in-law.

Jiyoo, on the other hand, looked as though she wanted to skin Seokjin alive.

“What?” Seokjin tilts his head at Taehyung, “a guy can’t marry his long term girlfriend?”

Instead of answering right away, Taehyung stares at him for a few stunned seconds and then bursts into a doubled-over laughter as though that was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. At the end, Taehyung has to wipe the tears on the corner of his eyes.

“Hyung,” he says, “you hate Song Jiyoo.”

Seokjin rubs his face and stands up, holding on to the table so he doesn’t tumble down to the force of his hangover, which is a particularly bad one because Seokjin aims to drink himself to death these days.

“Hate is a strong wor-”

“Hyung please,” Taehyung cuts him off, “cut it with the philosophical bullshit with me.”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not wrong. “I…I tolerate her.”

At that, Taehyung stops swinging his legs, hops off the counter. “That’s just as bad, if not worse.”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Seokjin snaps, then immediately composes himself. He shouldn’t place his frustrations on Taehyung. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Seokjin couldn’t yell at Song Jiyoo in front of her dad for lying through her teeth at his expense, trapping and putting him in a situation he can’t easily get out of because of the thorny vines wrapping around him from all directions. Before she explained why she did it, Seokjin knew. He simply knew about the insecurity that ate her alive when he didn’t pick her calls. Fifty four missed calls from one person is only normal when that person is a godforsaken psychopath. And Seokjin knows the way she thinks on a molecular level.

Even then, it is one thing to have a fight about it and a completely different thing to have a reaction so severe, it alters all of Seokjin’s plans and throws everything out the window.

And even then, he wasn’t surprised when Jiyoo cornered him after her dad left them on their own.

Arms crossed and a sneer on her face- “Just admit that you’re seeing someone else.”

Yoongi’s soft features flashed through his mind at the time, that sharp and snarky tongue, and in contrast, the care he put in reheating his soup. If anything, what he has with Yoongi is one-sided. He wasn’t cheating. Maybe if given the chance Seokjin would have made an effort into parting ways with Jiyoo, but if he does now he will be left with nothing. Because it was obvious Yoongi does not reciprocate any of this blooming attraction and Seokjin decided to slowly come to terms with that.

He is used to not getting anything he wants, truly.

Yoongi is, in all the senses that matter, a little secret he needs to bury in its own grave.

“Then why bother marrying me at all?” Seokjin bit back, “go find someone better who will devote his life to you like a fucking dog.”

Jiyoo’s eyes twitched in a way that made Seokjin regret the entirety of his time with her, the hint of a smirk on her lips. Seokjin wanted to back out, curl into himself, fucking run away from this empty space.

“Jinnie, don’t you get it? We’ve been together for so long,” she says through her teeth. “Even if I can’t have all of you then no one gets to have a piece of what’s always been mine.”

This sense of possessiveness, it will ruin her one day.

Seokjin wanted to throw up, he fisted his hands, “for the last time Jiyoo, I’m not cheating on you. I got drunk and fell asleep.” Which is not the entire truth, but Seokjin never prided himself on being a saint.

“Stop saying that!” Jiyoo screamed, her hands shooting up to hold her temples. Seokjin was afraid her father would hear the commotion and come back downstairs. “I don’t care if you are or aren’t cheating on me at this point, I just fucking want to seal the fucking deal! Is that too much to-”

“Jiyoo-”

“We’ve been together for so long, how do you think I feel when people ask why aren’t we getting married yet?” Jiyoo took a deep breath and met his gaze dead straight in the eye. “We’re…I’m getting old Jin, the time is ticking. I want to have kids.” Seokjin would be lying if he said he didn’t notice the tears pooling around her lashes. He does know she always wanted to have kids, said it’s a shame she didn’t already because now the age difference between her and her unborn babies keeps increasing. She said they were going to have the most beautiful and most talented children, she wanted them to be better than their peers. Jiyoo had everything planned out.

But he’s too far ahead of Jiyoo to be bothered by any of that.

Seokjin took one step back, said as calmly as possible, “maybe if you ever took a moment to stop thinking about how other people perceive you then maybe we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

At that, Jiyoo shoots him a laugh so ugly, Seokjin wishes he never crossed paths with her in his entire lifetime.

“That’s rich coming from someone who only became a doctor for the money and status and didn’t have the balls to stand up to his own fucking father.”

It was a low blow even for her. Seokjin’s face heated up, his blood started to boil. It was getting harder and harder to breathe in this space in front of the woman he despises so much.

Under the lush living room of Song Jiyoo’s extravagant triple storey house, in the silence, Seokjin could feel his own heart threatening to come out of his rib cages. In that moment, all he wanted to do was scream his lungs out at her-

He takes a deep breath, calms himself down and slowly says, “I don’t want to fucking marry you.”

Song Jiyoo only flipped her hair back, scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Say that to our fathers if you’ve grown the balls ever since.”

And in that moment, Seokjin decided that even if he’s forced into this marriage, he’s never going to give Song Jiyoo the kids she wanted. As a way to relieve their unborn children of a life full of misery.

“So you’re right, I didn’t think I could have so much hatred in me for a person.” Seokjin tells Taehyung about all of that, everything he’s missed since the last time they talked, barring the details about one Yoongi. A little secret.

Absent-mindedly, he double taps his screen as it lights up, staring at the same words as earlier.

have you talked to jeongguk yet?

He has not, in fact, told Jeongguk yet. Between his failure with Yoongi and the ugly fiasco with Song Jiyoo, Seokjin had completely forgotten about Jeongguk’s sickness. He needs to prescribe him medications and instruct him on using inhalers. He’s going to provide all of it to him as well. He has promised Yoongi to take full responsibility for Jeongguk and he is going to keep those words at least.

And he has to face Yoongi with a ring on his finger. His feelings for Yoongi…it will fade away with time, he tells himself. It happened fast and like everything else in his life, eventually this feeling will also become a distant memory one day.

“I really thought,” Taehyung sounds hesitant all of a sudden, like he’s not quite sure he should say this. Seokjin doesn’t look away from the screen, his grip tightens.

“Mm?”

“I didn’t think you'd get this far with Jiyoo. The way you were back then,” Taehyung says again, “I thought you’re never going to get over him.”

Seokjin notices Taehyung’s active choice of not mentioning the name. It is one of those distant memories now, although the events feel like it happened just yesterday- Seokjin’s bleached hair breaking in the middle when Namjoon ran his hands through them. The careful, stray touches on his thighs through his ripped jeans. Almost two decades later, Seokjin doesn’t remember too many of the details but he’d be lying if he said Kim Namjoon didn’t leave him an afterimage he carried with him for the rest of his life.

“We feel things more intensely when we’re young,” Seokjin reasons, “it goes away with time.”

“You only say that because you never found him.”

Seokjin doesn’t like talking about Kim Namjoon in notes of minor chords. It unearths mountains of disappointments he buried under its valleys, a skeleton whose sneer is uglier than the one Seokjin studied for his final exams. He likes thinking about him in light of the morning sun rays instead, in misty threads of late night stargazing, every stroke of charcoal etched onto cartridge paper, the dimples where the tips of his fingers fit right in.

Seokjin does not answer Taehyung. He unlocks his phone and opens the text window and begins to type.

“Is that her?” Taehyung asks from the side, Seokjin bites his lip and then replies in the negative.

“No, I haven’t talked to her ever since.”

Taehyung tries to sneak a peek on his phone. “Then who are you texting? It’s weird. You’re not a text person.”

Seokjin stops typing, the brat is right. He is not of the younger bunch, he doesn’t like texting outside of unavoidable updates. What is he even doing? Talking on the phone is so much better, isn’t it? He can hear his vexed voice getting more furious as the seconds pass when he realizes who called.

Seokjin enjoys the snarky remarks. It inexplicably gets his heart pounding out of his chest.

Without any more second thoughts and any deserved regards and acknowledgement towards a nosy Kim Taehyung, Seokjin presses call.

When Yoongi picks up after the third ring, which feels like an eternity has passed and he exhales a sigh of relief when he hears the voice, Seokjin hurries towards the window so his face and voice is hidden from Taehyung.

“Hello?”

His heart rate immediately picks up, palpitating so fast he’s scared of a sudden cardiac arrest at this premature age. He’s not ready to succumb yet, although it would be fun to see Yoongi scrambling in and out of his designated hospital room feeling guilty about being the sole reason for Seokjin's illness. It quickly subsides though, leaving an afterglow in the form of a smile in it’s wake.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

Seokjin clears his throat of any tightness previously amassed, “I’m hurt knowing you didn’t even save my number.” Palpable silence wafts from the other side until Seokjin ends up chuckling. “It’s fine if you didn’t. I was just jok-”

“No, I did.” Yoongi’s voice is surprisingly calm on the opposite end, Seokjin thought Yoongi was using the silence to brew an excuse. He stares down at the moss-roses on the pot, the magenta flowers bright under the morning sun. He thought Yoongi was going to fiercely shout at him after how they left things last time. He was hoping Yoongi would be more furious with him about his neglect with Jeongguk. But he’s surprisingly…resigned. “I was working so I didn’t see who called. My hands are covered with paint so Jeongguk picked it up and he’s now holding the phone to my ear. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t,” Seokjin inhales sharply and staggers off. His voice is too deep, too calm and it softens the feelings of his edges. Rounds him out. In his hungover state, his senses are heightened and the lilting way Yoongi speaks could lull him back to sleep.

“What?” Yoongi asks curiously when Seokjin fails to continue. “Don’t what?”

“What?” Seokjin asks right back.

He hears a ruffling sound from the other end. “Are you okay, Seokjin-ssi? Is anything wrong?”

He is far from okay. “A bit hungover. That’s all.”

“You’re always drunk these days,” Yoongi hums, “it’s concerning.”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat and teases, “you sound awfully nice today. Why are you being so nice to me? This isn’t you.”

“Jeongguk is holding me at gunpoint.”

Seokjin huffs a laugh, traces the tiny leaves on the pot with his fingers, “tell him he’s my favourite son.”

Yoongi’s reply comes after a delay, possibly sparing a second for Yoongi to throw Jeongguk an unimpressed look.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

Ah, this sneaky little shit. Seokjin straightens up and looks outside of the window, trying to comb his bed-head with his fingers.

“I will,” he promises, “what do you want to have for lunch today? I want to see you two.”

“Why do you want to see me too?”

It takes Seokjin a couple of seconds to figure out what Yoongi is saying and he can’t help but titter when he realizes what Yoongi heard wrong.

“I meant I want to see both of you.” Now it’s Yoongi’s turn for a stunned silence as he realizes his mistake. Seokjin bites his lip and chuckles again. “Yah-”

“Right, right. And no,” Yoongi opposes immediately, “he’ll meet you at your chamber.”

Dread fogs up Seokjin’s mind at the mention of the hospital. Where Song Jiyoo reigns intolerable terrors to his mental wellbeing. He does not want to go there right now and least of all get Yoongi and Jeongguk to witness the mess.

Unknowingly, Seokjin scoffs. “We are not meeting at my chamber, Yoongi. Ask Jeongguk.”

“He’s not with me anymore. I’ve washed my hands and kicked him out.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave him be. “Surely, lying isn’t one of them.”

“You wouldn’t know that anyway.”

“You can’t bullshit a professional bullshitter, Yoongi. Cut it,” he sighs at the end. “Don’t be difficult now.”

In lieu of a reply, Seokjin hears a deep exhale from Yoongi. And then, not addressed to him, a resigned, “Seokjin-ssi wants to take you out for lunch.”

Seokjin can’t hear what Jeongguk says but pinches the bridge of his nose, “I want to take you out for lunch too.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply to him. “No, I won’t be there, Jeongguk. He has something to say to you.”

“Yah.”

“Yeah, no, that’s expensive. You can’t rip him off.”

“Yoongi.”

“Hey listen,” it finally sounds like Yoongi is acknowledging Seokjin’s existence again. “I’ll text you the address, okay?”

“Fine,” Seokjin doesn’t argue. “But you have to come.”

“I’ve got work, Seokjin-ssi.”

“I don’t care,” his eye twitches. “Come today.”

“I’m not feeling that well.”

“Getting out of the house will help.” Seokjin keeps his voice steady. “I need you to be there.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply immediately, neither does he hear Jeongguk. So he takes over again. “I expect you to come with Jeongguk. That's all. See you at lunch.” With a deep exhale, Seokjin cuts the call abruptly at that. Talking any longer would have given Yoongi more time and opportunity to argue and he doesn’t want to give him any more chances.

Seokjin throws the phone on the small single couch at the side, his nerves calming down slowly as the morning sun spins. Ruffling his hair one more time in an attempt to tame the bird’s nest, he turns around to grab his coffee again because god, he needs it.

But instead of his mug, he’s faced with a cross-armed, raised-eyebrow, tilted-head Kim Taehyung not fighting at all to hide the smirk on his face.

“Hyung,” his deep voice sends chills down Seokjin’s spine, “I thought you weren’t cheating on Song Jiyoo.”

He’s not.

He’s definitely not.

***

Jeon Jeongguk has doey eyes so big they could give a deer a run for its money.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Taehyung whips his head at Seokjin and hisses, “hyung, isn’t he too young for you?”

Seokjin runs a hand down his face in frustration.

“He’s not the one…yah!” Seokjin stops once he realizes what trap he was about to jump into. “For the last time Taehyung-ah, it’s not like that.”

Taehyung disregards his existence and goes back to interviewing Jeongguk, who looks just as mortified and confused as Seokjin feels. It’s Seokjin’s fault for not being able to get rid of Taehyung on his way here. He used to be a quiet baby and a polite toddler but it all changed when he hit adolescence. And Seokjin was mostly on the receiving end of all that mayhem.

“Do you like my hyung?”

Jeongguk, even more confused, tilts his head to the side so innocently that Seokjin starts feeling bad for him. “What? I love Seokjin hyung. He’s a very kind person.”

Taehyung with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, looks back at Seokjin again. “A sugar baby!?”

Before Seokjin can smack Taehyung, to his surprise and continued mortification, Jeongguk bursts out laughing. Seokjin hides his face behind his hand.

“Um, no.” Seokjin hears Jeongguk say, “you must be thinking of Yoongi hyung.”

Way to give Taehyung more material. If the ground could dig a hole in itself, Seokjin would be the first person to jump in. Taehyung has got it all terribly wrong, and Jeongguk is not helping. On their way over here, Seokjin had asked Taehyung not to mention anything about his engagement to Jiyoo. Taehyung doesn’t want to stay in his parents home so Seokjin threatened to kick him out of his house if he dares mention her name in front of them.

Well, only Jeongguk now since Yoongi stuck to his words and truly has not come.

So Seokjin is pissed, all things considered and nothing is going his way.

“So there’s a Yoongi hyung.” Taehyung says like he found another suspect in a cold case.

Jeongguk gives them a tight-lipped smile as he starts picking his nails, big eyes peeking through his haphazardly home-cut bangs. He looks visibly young, even more so when he’s shyly tucked in his seat under Taehyung’s curious and scrutinizing gaze. Jeongguk nods.

“Speaking of,” Seokjin quickly clears his throat before Taehyung could further prod into the matter. Seokjin does not want Jeongguk involved in this. “Where is he? I asked him to come.”

“He’s been working on a commissioned piece,” Jeongguk explains, waving his hand around his head, “he’s in that headspace now. I can’t pry him out of there.”

Disappointment blooms in his chest again. What Jeongguk said may be true, but Seokjin can’t help but think Yoongi is purposefully avoiding him. It may be because of how they left things last time, how Yoongi essentially kicked him out of his house that day. Seokjin doesn’t reply to Jeongguk, he’s sure his voice will come out as a croak if he does.

But he’s not about to give up so easily.

“Hyung told me you have something to tell me?” Jeongguk asks when no one talks for a while. Seokjin looks up through his lashes. Right.

He needs to get through this first before anything else.

Jeongguk takes the news more calmly than Yoongi did. Probably because he must have already had an inkling about what was going on with him. He’s a smart child, polite and gentle with everything he does. Seokjin notices the way Jeongguk slowly traces his fingers along the edges and lines of the wooden table, like he’s drawing something invisible onto the surface. He wonders what it is.

Seokjin had sent Taehyung away for some time as he wanted to be alone with Jeongguk when telling him. Taehyung is called back when the food arrives and both of them dig into it like hungry hawks, as Seokjin stares at his plate with his lost appetite.

“Yoongi told me you want to study art,” Seokjin broaches the topic once they’re halfway done.

“Really?” It’s Taehyung who exclaims enthusiastically, looking once at Seokjin and then at Jeongguk. “Are you any good?”

Jeongguk blushes under Taehyung’s sudden attention, then looks sheepishly at Seokjin. “I have a long way to go.”

Seokjin smiles at him softly, “you’re being humble. Yoongi has told me great things about you.”

At that, Jeongguk suddenly seems dejected again, which confuses Seokjin a great deal. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappears again. And the sudden dejection is replaced with curiosity as he turns to Taehyung.

“Are you a doctor, too?”

Taehyung laughs in good humour, “my mother would be so happy if I were. But no, unfortunately or fortunately. I’m not as brilliant as Seokjin hyung. I model.”

Jeongguk looks taken aback, but only for a mere second. Seokjin thinks he’s clumsy with his emotions, not yet matured and good at hiding them as Yoongi is. Seokjin thinks he should stay unmarred like that.

“That makes so much sense actually.”

Taehyung grins through a mouthful of food, “yeah?”

Jeongguk nods, “you have the kind of face fit for parisian magazines.”

Taehyung is the happiest when they’re done. Jeongguk is trying to match his energy. And Seokjin feels queasy as hell. An idea has been brewing in his head all along. Things don’t usually go as he plans. But he planned on seeing Yoongi today and he’s going to make it happen.

When the time comes to part ways, Seokjin proposes an idea like he’d just thought of it.

“Yah, Jeongguk-ah,” he calls when Jeongguk turns halfway towards the opposite side. Jeongguk looks back over his shoulders with his hands in his pockets.

“Yes?”

“Taehyung is visiting me after so long,” he starts, surprising even Taehyung standing right beside him. “I was planning to cook for him tonight. Would you like to join us?”

Jeongguk looks a little surprised at first, like he was not expecting a direct invitation to Seokjin’s house. Because no matter what, Seokjin is still his doctor and Jeongguk is still his patient.

“I…” Jeongguk’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, “I wouldn’t want to intervene.”

“No, I insist.” Seokjin reinforces. Beside him, Taehyung also seems to have warmed up to the idea.

“Yeah, you should come. I can never finish all of that food alone.” Taehyung grins at him, “you should just come with us now if you’re not busy, we could play video games too. Hyung has an exquisite collection.”

Seokjin is never going to berate Taehyung ever again. He is going to legally adopt Taehyung and provide for him for the rest of his life. Seokjin nods enthusiastically.

Jeongguk looks down at the pavement, his bangs curtaining his eyes from the world. Seokjin ducks in an attempt to see his expression but Jeongguk stares away to the side with a smile.

“Thank you for the invite, hyung.” Jeongguk’s tone is not one that makes Seokjin relieved, he can sense a rejection from a mile away. “But I need to visit Hoseok hyung today. So I’ll have to turn it down. Thank you, though. Maybe I’ll try your cooking some other time.”

If Jeongguk accepted the invitation, Seokjin could blackmail Yoongi into coming over to pick him up after dinner. He would have brought Yoongi to his house and made him dinner too. But Jeongguk is sporting an air of resignation that tells him he should not prod him further. Seokjin nods in understanding.

“I’ll hold you on to that,” Seokjin accepts. “Who’s Hoseok hyung though?”

“He’s my other father.” Jeongguk starts giggling so mischievously, Seokjin narrows his eyes at him in confusion.

“Your…other father,” he’s not quite sure what that even means but then again, he’s not entirely certain of how Jeongguk is related to Yoongi in the first place. Now there is another guy named Hoseok and Jeongguk is claiming him to be his father? What the actual fuck is-

“Hyung, I should go now. Thank you for the meal.” Jeongguk starts stepping away, raises a hand and sends a salute in Taehyung’s direction. “Hope to see you again, Taehyungie hyung.”

Taehyung salutes him back and laughs, “See ya!”

Seokjin makes Taehyung take the wheel and take his car back to his home as he himself starts for the subway station. He has memorized Yoongi’s address from last time. Walking back alone with only a map on his phone which had been running at a critical condition at 7% battery has made him a connoisseur of the way to Yoongi’s house. He knows all the ways, he can go to that place with his eyes closed now.

At the station while waiting for the next train, Seokjin brings his phone out and begins to type, this time choosing to send a text instead.

Seokjin
why didn’t you come

A reply doesn’t come immediately but in the meantime, the train arrives and Seokjin is quick to jump right in. Settling inside sandwiched amongst all the people standing around, Seokjin has to bring the screen of his phone very close to his face to simultaneously see the text and make sure no one around him is trying to sneak a peek. He finds a corner to stand at, wraps his arm around a bar to keep him steady.

Yoongi
told you i’m not feeling well

Seokjin
you know i’m the right person to talk to if you’re sick
Free medical treatment for you
special home service for yoongi
for the next 24 hours
avail it before it runs out
im serious
yoongi?

Seokjin gets off at the designated station without a reply, wondering belatedly if Yoongi is still avoiding him or if he really is sick. His one-room rooftop house is close enough to the station that Seokjin doesn’t even need to take another transport but far enough by foot that it takes a while. But Seokjin does not mind. Walking is healthy, he himself recommends his patients to walk at least for 30 minutes each day in greenery.

This time around, Seokjin really takes the surroundings in. The busy roads faze out the further he walks into the neighbourhood. Slanted streets wind around the houses and the walk is uphill. The harrowing sound of traffic starts to fade away as he gets closer. A woman passes him by with her dog on a leash. Two kids riding their bicycles compete with each other. If he remembers correctly, the building Yoongi lives in is at the very end of a lone street, one of the last few houses in the neighbourhood. And he remembers the breathtaking view from the rooftop, although he was not quite in the right mind to bask in it to his heart’s content.

The landlady grills Seokjin about what exactly he’s here for because according to her, Yoongi’s friends never visit him. Seokjin spews some bullshit about how they’re childhood best friends and haven’t seen each other in a long time which is why she doesn’t know about him. Then he tops it off with giving her his card, telling her to call him if she feels sick.

The things Yoongi makes him do, really, Yoongi should pay more attention to him.

Breaking the stairs and almost at the roof, Seokjin hesitates before going further up. What if Yoongi starts screaming at him for coming here uninvited? What if Yoongi really does hate him? But this is no time to be thinking such thoughts, Seokjin muses, he’s already here. At the top of the roof, the afternoon sun glows a bright gold, the golden hour rays fall on his face like the warmth of a sweet caress. The light breeze blows the collars of his white shirt and ruins his perfectly curated hair. He’s a little out of breath from all the walking, and the wispy, cotton like clouds against the blue and orange sky and the sun playing a cheeky hide and seek- it takes some more of his breath away leaving only a little for him to survive.

He needs to stop stalling.

Seokjin isn’t sure why he’s so nervous about this. It could be because of how they left things last time, or maybe because of the recent development in the case of Song Jiyoo. Yoongi has no idea yet, and Seokjin isn’t sure whether or not he should bring it up. Because why would he if Yoongi isn’t interested in him? His engagement would make zero difference to Yoongi.

Without letting his mind wander any more than it already has, Seokjin musters up the courage and knocks on Yoongi’s door. The answer is not immediate, just like it hasn’t been for the entire day from Yoongi’s end. But Yoongi does open the door, and he-

Yoongi is wearing nothing but his trousers. His hair is a mess and paint is smeared all over his face and down to his abdomen. The dark circles under his eyes are a clear indication of his sleepless nights, the hollowed cheeks of his skipped meals in the recent past. Yoongi’s midriff is cages and skin. Seokjin has half a mind to reach out and take him in his arms lest he faints and falls down. This isn’t normal and yet.

The tilt of Yoongi’s head and his piercing gaze, it takes the rest of his breath away.

He blinks slowly at Seokjin, surprised to see him outside his door all uninvited and breathless. “I thought Hoseok was here with Jeongguk.” His voice matches the state of his current being, fragile and broken, raspy and wearied like it’s frayed at the edges.

Seokjin has to force himself to look away from Yoongi and at the dipping sun, gulps down what feels like a lump in his throat.

“Who’s Hoseok? Are you married?” He finds himself asking.

“If it makes you stop chasing after me, then yes.”

That can’t be it. Seokjin whips his head around at Yoongi and tries to squint the sun away from his eyes. He’s seeing blobs of technicolour all over Yoongi, all over all the paint on his skin. Yoongi looks like a cutesy little alien. He thinks he’s going crazy.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing here, Seokjin-ssi.” Yoongi says again, pulling the door in to make way for Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

Seokjin takes his shoes off and positions them parallely right by the door before walking inside. “God forbid a man has his worries.”

Yoongi closes the door behind him, “why would you worry about me?”

Seokjin takes in Yoongi’s room again, the painted bougainvillaea, the blue skies, all the colours splashed across the walls. The muddy smell of paint wafts through the space in thick layers, good thing Yoongi has one of the windows opened. He pretends to look around and admire Yoongi’s work until his eyes ‘naturally’ fall on Yoongi. He’s reaching out for a black t-shirt abandoned on the mattress Seokjin slept on last time. Which feels like ages ago.

“Why didn’t you come today?” Seokjin accuses without any bite.

Yoongi lets out a deep exhale after wearing the t-shirt, closes his eyes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “If that’s why you’re here…” he trails off, failing to come up with an answer.

Seokjin is simply tired of not getting what he wants. He hums, cutting him off knowing that he’s being irrational here. Yoongi has no reason to indulge him in any way or form. But for once, Seokjin doesn’t want to be rational. Yoongi just got caught in the crossfire, is all. That’s fucking life.

“You couldn’t show me some mercy just for the sake of it?”

“If you’re looking for kindness then I don’t think I’m the right person for that.” Yoongi’s voice is soft but resigned just like it had been in the morning. Like he’s forcing the words out of his vocal chords. And Seokjin has this inkling feeling-

“I’ve got too much on my plate. Or maybe not enough. I have to work so much only to earn so little. There’s rent and groceries and I have Jeongguk to look after and make sure he gets to go to college. But now he’s sick and I,” Yoongi trails off to inhale sharply, “I can’t help but blame myself for not taking care of Jeongguk properly. So forgive me, Seokjin-ssi, for not… entertaining your whims like you wanted me to.”

And Seokjin has this inkling feeling- no it’s not even a feeling anymore. Seokjin can see it clearly when Yoongi’s knees suddenly wobble and he quickly places his hand on the wall to keep himself steady. He screws his eyes shut before opening them again, but it’s obvious to him that he’s unable to focus. Seokjin suddenly notices the beads of sweat on his forehead now, and his shortness of breath.

He’s not sure when he does it, his brain whirring into autopilot on its own. Or maybe it is an occupational habit, because he wants to comfort his patients.

Seokjin dashes forward and holds Yoongi into an embrace as gently as he can. Yoongi doesn’t waste a single second before laying the entirety of his weight onto Seokjin. He lets go off the wall as his hands fall limp by his sides. Seokjin has his arms around Yoongi’s shoulder, palms pressed on his back as Yoongi buries his face in Seokjin’s chest.

Seokjin’s heartbeat accelerates, palpitating like he’s been running a marathon all this time. Yoongi’s ragged breathing tickles on his chest, with shaking fingers, Seokjin runs a hand up Yoongi's back and neck and tangles his fingers in his hair.

“Yoon…Yoongi-ah?”

Seokjin can tell Yoongi exhausted himself out. It was obvious since the moment he laid his eyes on Yoongi that he has been skipping meals after meals. That he has been obsessively working on a commissioned piece, drowned himself in his work. All for him to neglect his own wellbeing, because he needed the money to take care of Jeongguk.

Yoongi mumbles incoherently, so he hasn’t completely fainted yet. Seokjin rubs a hand up and down his back, uses another to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck. Instead of waiting for more replies Seokjin springs into action and walks Yoongi backwards as carefully as possible. His limp limbs protest when Seokjin tries to make him sit down on the mattress right behind him. In the end Seokjin gently carries him in his arms- a hand under his knees and the other supporting his head- and carefully lays him down on the mattress. He takes both of the pillows from the corner and positions them under Yoongi’s legs, this way his blood will flow towards his brain. Yoongi’s eyes flutter for a couple of seconds and Seokjin thinks he will regain full consciousness. But unfortunately, Yoongi’s body gives in and his eyes end up fluttering shut.

Seokjin takes a hold of his hand, rubbing the back of it and then checking the pulse. It’s faint, light enough to mistake as an absence. “Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin whispers under his breath. His own heart hasn’t calmed down yet, but he is trying his best not to panic. Seokjin lets go of his hand and moves on to his face. Yoongi’s lips have ashened, his cheeks have gone pale. Seokjin carefully uses a thumb to pull the lower lid of his eyes and exposes Yoongi’s conjunctiva. And sure enough, it is pale and white.

“Oh Yoongi,” Seokjin lets go of his face and sits back on the floor right by the mattress. Time ticks away. If Yoongi doesn’t regain consciousness within a minute he’s going to take him to the hospital. Seokjin’s own hands are still shaking. Sure, Yoongi has said terrible things to him in the past but Seokjin honestly prefers a hotheaded Yoongi over an unresponsive one.

To his discredit, Seokjin fails to wait for a whole minute before he brings his phone out to call an ambulance. The numbers are already saved on his phone. It is no issue for him. He’ll sign Yoongi under his own name in the hospital. He’ll buy him all the medicine, he’ll bring him nutritious food, he’ll cook it himself if necessary.

Anything for Yoongi, really.

Seokjin runs through the halls to get to Yoongi’s room in the hospital when Jimin texts him that Yoongi has regained his consciousness.

His bed is covered with curtains and separated from the others, but there aren’t many patients in the room at the moment. When Seokjin pulls the curtain aside, Yoongi is sitting on his bed with his back resting on the pillow staring down at his hands on his lap. Jimin is sitting on the other side of the bed on a tool, seemingly in mid conversation. At the sound of Seokjin’s footsteps and heavy breathing, both of them look up.

Seokjin is panting hard, it seems he’s been doing that quite a lot for Yoongi lately.

“I’ve seen so many idiots in my life,” Seokjin starts with a hand on his heart, trying to stabilize his breathing, “but you are truly on another level, Yoongi.”

Yoongi looks back down at his arm, the plastic cannula and the needle inserted into his vein. Hooked to an IV drip, Yoongi seems fragile and brittle like he could lose consciousness anytime again.

Then meekly, he says, “you didn’t need to bring me here.”

Seokjin stands in silence, but it’s Jimin who gasps loudly. “I just told you why you shouldn’t be skipping meals.”

Yoongi bites his cheek. “Yeah, I-yeah. Okay.”

Seokjin isn’t dumb, he knows Yoongi may not be feeling too comfortable with Jimin in front of him even though they have met once before. Yoongi may be an asshole to Seokjin, but he barely lets the same energy out with Jimin. Or the lack of energy, considering his current situation. But with Seokjin, at least he’s been honest about everything.

Besides, even Seokjin is not entirely comfortable in front of Jimin considering how he had confided in him about Yoongi in one drunken stupor. It matters not that Jimin had promised he’d forget about it, Seokjin knows very well how he could still be remembering all of that. So when he politely asks Jimin if he could spare them a moment alone, he’s careful as to making it seem like Yoongi would talk more freely with him and not the other way around.

Seokjin closes the curtain again and sits on the empty tool that Jimin has generously left behind. There are a lot of things he wants to tell Yoongi stuck in his throat in the form of a lump. All the things he left unsaid in Yoongi’s tiny rooftop house. He had prepared so much but like everything else in his life, it didn’t go as he planned. But now is not the time to bring all of that up.

“You put my name as Jeon Yoongi.” Yoongi’s voice is raspy, slow, light as a feather.

He isn’t sure why Yoongi picks this as a conversation starter out of all the things. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hit with a brick when he realized he didn’t know what Yoongi’s surname was. He only put Jeon because it seemed like the rational thing to do, going by the fact that Jeongguk talks of Yoongi as his brother.

“Why?” Seokjin asks, “is Yoongi not your real name?”

He could be imagining it, but for a second, Yoongi seems like he wants to laugh at that. But the faint smirk that appears quickly also goes away in the blink of an eye. “Jeon isn’t.”

Seokjin isn’t entirely surprised, “then what is it?”

“It’s,” Yoongi plays with his fingers on his lap, “Min Yoongi.”

Seokjin nods, tries the name in his mouth. “Min Yoongi. A very fitting name for you.”

Yoongi slowly faces him, “really?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin widens his eyes in assurance. “Like Mean Yoongi.”

A second passes where Seokjin lets Yoongi take that in, wondering how Yoongi will react. To his surprise, a weak chuckle leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he quietly sighs in disappointment.

“That was terrible.” Yoongi says, “I was right to dislike you.”

Seokjin drags the tool closer, “see? Very mean Yoongi of you.” Yoongi shakes his head in protest. Seokjin settles in the new closeness. “I’ll see if I can change your name in the register. But I hate to say I’m still not sure how you’re related to Jeongguk.” At that Yoongi inhales deeply, and Seokjin can tell Yoongi is considering finally telling him. “You don’t have to if you don't want to.”

Surrounded by the smell of chemicals, disinfectants and sickness, Seokjin thinks Yoongi’s spirit has dropped too low for him to channel his usual vigor. Now Yoongi looks completely defeated, given up on trying to fight back. Seokjin thinks this version of Yoongi is vulnerable enough to do anything anyone will ask him to like a hypnotized man.

“No, I,” Yoongi screws his eyes shut before opening them again, “I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Very grateful to you, your highness.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at that, or at least tries to before he gives up halfway and gives up trying to retort with a snarky remark. Instead, he exhales again.

“It’s a bit complicated but…well, my parents never really got along with each other.” Yoongi starts, “while my father was an alcoholic who slept around,” he takes a deep breath, “my mother was having a full blown affair with Jeongguk’s dad.” Seokjin tries with all of his might to repress his surprise. “So eventually when my biological father abandoned us when I was fourteen, my mother remarried Jeongguk’s father. His father was a widower and Jeongguk was only two back then. We moved in with them. Jeongguk could barely walk.” Yoongi smiles fondly remembering the time. “My stepfather was kind enough and told me I didn’t have to change my surname if I didn’t want to, so I kept it. And Jeongguk kept his.”

Things start to become clear to Seokjin now. The different surnames, being brothers but not related by blood. “Where do they live now?” Seokjin asks, curious, “your parents?”

Yoongi looks at him and purses his lips, “gone. Both of them. Jeongguk was five and barely remembers their faces anymore. I practically raised him, that's why sometimes we joke that he’s my son.”

A lump catches on his throat. “I’m sorry, Yoongi-ah.”

“It’s alright. I think.” Yoongi attempts a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We don’t ever talk about it so it mostly feels like I’ve healed from that grief.” Then he turns his face to Seokjin and scrunches his nose. “I’m just glad Jeonggukie doesn’t remember anything.”

It’s probably why Jeongguk is not as rough around the edges as Yoongi is. Yoongi needed to put up a tough front for Jeongguk to have a softer outlook on life, why Yoongi is so guarded all the time while Jeongguk is like an open window and full of life. Which also indicates that Yoongi has been a good father figure to him.

It makes sense now why Yoongi is so protective of Jeongguk. Yoongi may have had a rough upbringing with his parents, but Jeongguk practically had no one but Yoongi. And Yoongi was still a teenager when he had to fully take care of Jeongguk. Seokjin is at a loss of words, looking at Yoongi’s arms now stuck to a needle. Life must have been so hard for him already, having such a heavy weight on his shoulders living in such uncertainty while Seokjin practically had the entirety of his life already planned out for him. If he could, he would trade some of his life for Yoongi’s. They could balance each other out. But all he can do is let the silence brew, not sure what to say next.

“Seokjin-ssi, I think I owe you an apology. And gratitude.”

Seokjin starts at that. His is a thankless job people take for granted. He’s had to deal with countless patients who were disrespectful towards him. A sorry and a thank you is not something he ever expected from Yoongi. If anything, he should be the one to comfort Yoongi right now.

Unknowingly, he reaches out and untangles Yoongi’s fingers from themselves and carefully replaces them with his own. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. They are weak, pale and knobby, a little cold to the touch, not much weight to them. His purple veins are prominent enough that Seokjin could trace them right to their cores. He rubs his thumb on the back and hums.

“You have cold hands.”

“Seokjin-ssi…”

“Call me hyung,” when Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, Seokjin’s hold on his hand tightens, “don’t say no. Don’t be a brat now.” Yoongi keeps staring at him without answering right away but Seokjin can see his breathing get faster. And Seokjin gets impatient.

“Don’t keep me hanging.”

“It’s just that I never had anyone to call hyung.” Yoongi examines his face carefully, “so it might take me a while.”

Seokjin nods, keeps staring at Yoongi’s hand and presses on different places, memorizing every curve and every line. He has this inexplicable urge to take care of Yoongi, one that is completely separated from his attraction towards him. Like he wants to fix all of his problems and give him the life he deserves.

“Are you really married, Yoongi? To the Hoseok guy?”

“Why? You’re in love with me or something?”

He looks up at Yoongi and finds him already staring, “don’t joke now.”

Yoongi answers in the negative, “no, he’s a friend of mine Jeongguk is very particularly fond of. Even I can’t separate him from his Hoseok hyung.”

Seokjin hums again, “so you’re single?”

Yoongi inhales sharply, “why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just wanted to make sure no one will come for my head because I’ve been holding your hand for so long.”

At that, Seokjin feels Yoongi tug his hand trying to pry it away, like he forgot to do it before or dare he say, actually liked Seokjin playing with his hand- and Seokjin reluctantly lets him go because he has no possible right to keep holding on.

“I don’t think you should be worrying about my hypothetical partner when yours is the real threat.” Yoongi sighs for what seems like the millionth time. “Besides, I don’t like you like that.”

Being reminded of Song Jiyoo, Seokjin recoils, retracts his hands to himself and rests them on his knees. He sits back and watches as Yoongi’s hair falls over his lashes exactly like Jeongguk’s did.

“That’s crazy,” Seokjin teases, “I didn’t think you liked me at all.”

“You can't be serious for a minute at a stretch, can you?”

Seokjin doesn't answer, he stands up and gets ready to leave, reaches the curtains and pulls them asunder. “I haven’t told Jeongguk about this yet. Do you want me to?”

“No!” Yoongi’s answer is immediate and loud enough that it surprises Seokjin. “No. He was supposed to stay over at Hoseok’s tonight. I don’t want to worry him for no reason.”

Seokjin nods, grabs onto the curtain like he’s dependent on it. “I’ll drop you off at home then. You can’t say no.”

He makes Kim Taehyung bring his car back to the hospital to pick them up and Taehyung takes an instant liking to Min Yoongi.

“Hyung thinks I have nothing better to do with my life here.” Taehyung complains to Yoongi the moment Seokjin drags him out of the driver’s seat. “Does he demand things from you too?”

With his hands shoved inside the pockets and a little weak in the face, Yoongi looks like he’s not quite sure how he should be answering that question. “I…uh-”

“This is Taehyungie.” Seokjin walks up behind Taehyung and rests a hand on his shoulder. “My little cousin.”

Realization dawns on Yoongi and he says, “Nice to meet you, Taehyung-ssi.” Then he quickly bows and consequently ends up stumbling in his step. Seokjin has quick reflexes, so he’s in front of Yoongi in a second and reaches out to grab onto his elbows.

“Hey, you gotta be careful now.”

Yoongi nods quietly and slowly pries himself off of Seokjin’s hold. Seokjin doesn’t fight back or try to hold his arms again to guide him to the car. Yoongi looks past Seokjin and addresses Taehyung.

“And I’m Yoongi.”

Seokjin looks back at Taehyung just in time to see his eyes widen into round saucers. Then his mouth morphs into a wide boxy smile. He tilts his head.

“Hyung has told me so many things about you.”

Seokjin feels Yoongi’s piercing gaze at the back of his head before he hears him say, “good things, I hope.”

At that, Taehyung smiles mischievously. “The best things.”

Seokjin gets behind the wheel because he’s too tired to explain how to get to Yoongi’s home to Taehyung. Taheyung doesn’t protest being demoted to the backseat as Seokjin makes Yoongi take the passenger seat. But the exile in the backseat makes zero difference to Taheyung. He talks to Yoongi like Seokjin isn’t sitting right there. Which, in hindsight, is a good thing because Taehyung creates the perfect buffer in the car. He drives mostly basking in his own silence while Yoongi chuckles lightly when Taehyung starts talking about how adorable and well-mannered he thought Jeongguk was.

When he parks at the root of Yoongi’s building and Yoongi says his goodbyes and hops off the car without wasting much time, Seokjin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. He instructs Taeyung to stay and wait in the car while he gets out and follows Yoongi up the stairs.

He doesn’t even have to call him, Yoongi is perceptive enough to look back over his shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. The night breeze whistles around them and leaves whirl in a tiny tornado as Yoongi holds the railing and looks down at Seokjin as Seokjin looks up at him.

For whatever reason, Yoongi doesn’t say anything, he simply turns back around and continues walking up the stairs. Seokjin quickly follows, skipping one stair at a time to reach Yoongi quickly. In the whistling of the night, they reach the rooftop without any word.

The wind is stronger at this height, it blows on the collar of Yoongi’s shirt and exposes his forehead. When Yoongi finally turns back around to face him, Seokjin finds himself at a loss for words again for the millionth time in the past twelve hours.

Yoongi is perched against the backdrop of glittering Seoul, bright lights scattered around and skyscrapers glimmering in the quiet darkness. The rooftop is lined with a wide assortment of flowering plants, and somewhere in there must be one harboring night-blooming jasmines because the air is thick with its intoxicating smell. And Yoongi’s hair has been forced to part sideways against the wind, his pale face and the exposure around his neck practically translucent in the absence of light.

“You really are a ghost,” Seokjin finds himself saying.

This time, Seokjin is sure the upward tug of Yoongi’s lips is not lost on his imagination. It’s real as the physics tying him down to the ground. And Seokjin feels…he’s not sure what he feels anymore. The polarizing realities are ripping his soul apart. Looking at Yoongi, he wants nothing more than to fall on his feet and offer him the world. But he’s held back at the neck by the excruciating pain of his reality. The stake by the name of Song Jiyoo through his chest. The prison made of wealth and status and familial bonds.

“You followed me up all these stairs just to say that?”

Seokjin considered telling him about what is going on, but he knows it will make zero difference to how Yoongi sees him, how he goes about his life and how he kept no place for Seokjin in his future. So there really is no point in confiding in Yoongi because Seokjin will end up emotionally relying on him only for it all to be uprooted when the time comes. Yoongi will not think twice before cutting him off from his life if such a situation arises. He thinks it’s better to simply keep Yoongi away from all of his problems.

“You should take care of yourself, you know.” Seokjin takes a slow step closer to him. “You could’ve hit your head today if I wasn’t here to catch you. It was a convenient coincidence.”

Yoongi eyes Seokjin’s movement, tilting his head. “There are no such things as coincidences.”

“Yoongi-”

“Everything happens for a reason.” Yoongi continues, Seokjin ducks his head and sees Yoongi fisting his hands. “There are no chance encounters, you meet people for a reason that might be unknown to you at the given moment but it will unravel in due time. If I hadn’t stumbled upon you that night, you’d never have given Jeongguk your card and he would never have known to consult you about his sickness.”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut. “Yoongi-ah-”

“Think about it, if you didn’t have a fight with Jiyoo-ssi that night, you’d not have gotten drunk in the first place and we wouldn’t be standing here at this moment. It’s all interconnected.” It's a very Yoongi thing to do, Seokjin thinks, lecturing him about absolutely anything. “If today you hadn’t arrived at the right moment, I could’ve hit my head and died. In a way you saved my life and I think the rational thing to do would be to thank you. But I can’t help but wonder what led you to my house in the afternoon. Why were you here in the first place?”

“It’s not that complicated,” Seokjin replies, suddenly feeling very tired. “I just wanted to see you.”

Yoongi doesn't look like he's entirely convinced. He can probably tell Seokjin is hiding something from him. Yoongi stares at his face for a moment too long. “Did something happen with Ji-”

In a heartbeat, against his better judgement, Seokjin cuts him off and catches him off guard by surging forward and wrapping his arms around Yoongi. It efficiently shuts Yoongi up with a gasp.

“Seokjin…hyung?”

Seokjin buries his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. There are trains that Seokjin missed in his life which would have taken him to a destination much better than the one he ended up at. And he’s scared he’s very close to missing another one of those once-in-a-lifetime trains again. No one knows what awaited Yoongi if he hadn’t been here today. He might’ve never gotten another chance to see him, talk to him, or get on his nerves. Yoongi is not a friend, Seokjin has no ties grounding him to Yoongi- but there’s this gnawing feeling in the middle of his chest that says…he’s never found Namjoon again and something tells him he shouldn’t let Yoongi meet the same fate.

Kim Seokjin is a hard-core science guy, logic over emotions guy, men don’t cry guy. But filling his senses with Yoongi’s earthy scent mixed with some of that blooming jasmine, Seokjin has to fight tooth and nail against the drops that threaten to escape through his lashes one by one.

Through the tight lump in his throat, Seokjin manages, “don’t die on me. Don’t you dare do that to me.”

“Yah,” He feels Yoongi’s hands slowly find their way up his back, very lightly rubbing up and down in an attempt at comforting him. Seokjin closes his eyes against the sudden warmth and moves his face away from his neck. He’s very aware of the wet pool around his lashes, but he doesn’t care. He reaches up and cups Yoongi’s face in his hands, then presses his forehead against Yoongi’s. He can feel the speed of Yoongi’s breathing matching his own when Yoongi brings his hands up and holds both of Seokjin’s wrists, but he doesn’t tug or try to pry them away.

Yoongi just rests them there and whispers, “don’t do anything you might regret later.”

“I will regret not doing this even more.”

It’s the last warning Seokjin throws at Yoongi before he finally kisses him.

Against the wind and the smell of jasmines, Yoongi’s lips are cold just like his hands were. The first kiss is no less than a peck, and then Seokjin pulls on his bottom lip with his thumb and traps it between his own lips. Yoongi doesn’t kiss back, not right away- maybe out of shock or maybe he really doesn’t like Seokjin like that. But then Seokjin loses all semblance of right and wrong, reality, then fiction, when he reaches back and tangles all his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and pulls him even closer if that was possible.

Seokjin forgets about everything, his past, the present and what awaits him in the future; with Yoongi in his arms and his taste in his mouth. His mind is focused on all points of contact with Yoongi. Skin against skin. His tongue grazing Yoongi’s lips, then topping it off with a bite into his plump lips.

Yoongi opens his mouth with the provocation and Seokjin’s gains full access inside. Seokjin can pinpoint the exact moment when Yoongi starts kissing him back. It’s when Seokjin’s tongue finds Yoongi’s and Yoongi’s hands slide up his body to grab the collar of Seokjin’s shirt. His mind is inside a thick haze. If anyone asks, Seokjin won’t be able to tell what day it is, what time and what the colour of Yoongi’s shirt is. But he is making it a mission to memorize Yoongi’s taste, the curve of his tongue, the ridges of his mouth.

After a while, Seokjin pulls back to breathe. But his lips are still trapped between Yoongi’s. And Yoongi pulls Seokjin down again by his collar, tilting his head and kissing him deeply and taking his breath away one last time.

Both of their breaths come out shaky when Yoongi takes a step away from Seokjin. Seokjin still has his finger in his hair and pulls Yoongi right back in. Yoongi’s breath hits his chin when Seokjin leans his head on Yoongi’s. He can feel the heat that started from his chest spread all up his neck, ears and all over his face.

“Fuck,” the words come out of his mouth all raspy, Seokjin has a hard time believing it’s his own voice.

But to his comfort, Yoongi doesn’t sound like he’s doing any better himself when he says with his own shaky voice, “is memory erasure a viable option in modern medicine?”

The palpitations in Seokjin’s chest makes it hard for him to speak, “I have very unfortunate news for you.”

Yoongi’s grip on Seokjin's shirt tightens, “nevermind then. I'll just. Yeah. Leave I guess.”

Seokjin gulps, his brain has halted to a sudden stop thanks to Yoongi. He’s not sure what would be a socially acceptable time frame for holding onto Yoongi after…that. He’s also quite sure what they have just done is not socially acceptable in the first place.

When Yoongi wipes his mouth and enters his tiny apartment, he slams the door shut. Seokjin is left to his own devices reflecting on his actions all on his own. Absent-mindedly, he starts walking down the stairs feeling like a dead-brain zombie. His hands are still shaking, his heart still threatening to jump out of his rib cages. His knees are wobbling and he thinks this time he will be the one to faint.

He cannot tell this to anyone, not a single soul. Not Taehyung, not a drunk Jimin either.

This has to be a secret he takes to his grave.

Chapter Text

Seokjin wakes up to the usual view of his ceiling’s mournful gray.

He doesn’t think about it. He tries not to think about it. He has thought less about other things in his life. This is doable. Except that it’s not. He thinks about it, a splash of colours against a fiery blue- yellows, pinks and viney leaves all over a wall eclipsed entirely by dreams. Seokjin thinks about how he felt like waking up to them. He thinks more about the laughter surrounding its very creation- what the depth of his chuckles and the breeze of his hums sounded like when he brushed the surface with his favourite shade of blue.

It must have been the opposite of Seokjin’s own walls, empty of life and echoes of joy. Cold and lifeless. Barely tolerable.

Seokjin wakes up with his hands scrambling for his phone, unlocking and checking if he has received any new messages. He stares at the screen with only his own days-old words staring back at him.

mianhae yoongi-ah

So it wasn’t a dream he dreamt in a fit of a high fever after all, he realizes for the thousandth time. He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He’s not sure what to do anymore, does not know what will work now. His thumb hovers over the digits flashing on his phone. If he had a rose with him, it would be easier with plucking each petal out- if he should, if he shouldn’t.

He hits call anyway.

Kim Seokjin wakes up with the weight of a thousand worlds on his chest and thinking very fondly and incorrigibly of Min Yoongi.

No one picks up on the first ring, the second, the third and the rest that follows. No one picks up on the other side as the line dies with the harshest beep. Seokjin takes a deep breath, bites the inside of his cheeks and swallows his pride. He calls the number again.

He’s about to give up with the unanswered third ring again, until the call is received on the fourth.

“Yoongi,” he gasps out, his own voice still raspy from his sleep, “Yoongi-ah, can we-”

“Seokjin hyung?”

Seokjin’s breath catches on his throat as he’s cut off, a shard of disappointment stabbing through. That’s not Yoongi on the other side, it’s not the voice he wanted to hear right now.

“Jeongguk,” Seokjin inhales, “sweetie, where is your hyung?”

“Uhh…” Jeongguk contemplates, “he’s asleep. It’s still very early, hyung.”

“Right,” Seokjin turns his face to the window, the early morning light penetrating the thick clouds, seeping through the window is still gloomy. It’s going to rain, he can tell, there is probably going to be a storm.

“Is there anything you needed to tell him? I can relay the message.” Jeongguk offers unsuspectingly. Only if he knew.

“Yeah um,” Seokjin speeds through all the information in his brain and rubs his nose, “I was going to ask him to bring you to the hospital today. I’m sorry I’m not being so present, I have all of your medications ready. And I’m sorry I need you to pick them up. Is that okay?”

On the other side of the phone, Jeongguk giggles. “You’re being stupid.”

Seokjin smiles at the tone, “the disrespect from this child.”

“You’ve already done enough for me hyung,” Jeongguk says, “I don’t think I can ever repay you for what you’re willing to do for me. So don’t apologize. Never apologize. Not even to Yoongi hyung.” Jeongguk laughs again, “don’t let him get under your skin.”

Seokjin stops breathing at that. Did Jeongguk see the text message he sent to Yoongi? He couldn’t have, right? He must not know his password. But what if he does? They are very close and Yoongi will bring Jeongguk the moon if he ever asks for it. A password in nothing.

“Jeongguk-ah,” Seokjin keeps on staring out the window, the dark clouds getting darker by the second. “Do you think Yoongi will ever stop hating me?”

Jeongguk doesn’t waste a second, “you’re so wrong hyung. He isn’t the type to hate people so easily. You’d have to mess up real bad for him to hate you, and he doesn’t hate you.” Jeongguk laughs lightly again. “I know hyung can be intense and he’s very protective of me and he may have intimidated you at first. But he’s a very kind and gentle person once you get to know him. I know it’s very early for a lecture on hyung but-” Jeongguk’s words fade into a giggle. He smiles wondering if Jeongguk got the habit of unprompted lecturing from Yoongi. They’re both the same.

Seokjin thinks of the hints of Jeongguk’s version of Yoongi he’s seen over the time and he’s right. Sometimes the gentleness Jeongguk talks about seeps through his tough exterior when Yoongi is not careful enough. That moment in the hospital when Yoongi’s usual snark disappeared and he let Seokjin hold his hand for a moment, the warmth of his hand on Seokjin’s back right before he kissed him and ruined it all.

I do want to get to know him, Seokjin wants to say, I don’t know if I ever can.

“When he wakes up, ask him to bring you over. And make sure he comes today.”

Jeongguk hums, “alright but is it okay if we go in the evening?” Jeongguk asks. “I pulled an all-nighter and I’m like, really tired now.”

Seokjin deflates a little at the thought of waiting for the entire day to meet them. But it could give him some time to unwind, think of how he wants to approach Yoongi after what happened.

“It’s alright. Rest well, okay?” Seokjin covers his eyes with his hand, “and make sure neither of you skip lunch. Especially Yoo… uh, both of you.”

“Okie dokie, hyung. Bye then.”

“Bye Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk is the one to cut the call first.

Seokjin fails to fall back to sleep. He has a tight schedule today just like every other day, but tonight he planned to visit his mother with Taehyung. The reason being that there are some serious conversations he needs to have with her and he dreads every single word he will need to utter in relation to Song Jiyoo to his mom. It’s likely that she’s heard about it already, any update on his life barely ever missing her and his dad’s notice. But he will still go. The main reason being that he misses her terribly.

Jung Hoseok has deceptively warm eyes.

The high-pitched whistling sound through Seokjin’s stethoscope is something he expected, and Jeongguk taking longer than usual to breathe out tells him how he needs to get started with the medications immediately. When Seokjin puts the stethoscope down on the table and rummages around his personal locker to retrieve Jeongguk’s meds, Jung Hoseok hugs Jeongguk tightly and runs a hand down his hair.

Jung Hoseok has a lanky figure and choppy bangs and he walks like he’s floating on water. He seems to be a couple of years younger than him. A smile is constantly plastered on his face whenever he opens his mouth to speak, but when it's directed at Seokjin it barely reaches his eyes. A quick introduction told him that Jung Hoseok is humble alright but he is not the type to trust people easily, a far cry from how Jeongguk is. His handshake is firm and resilient and Seokjin felt self-conscious the moment he felt Hoseok’s eyes sizing him up in his uniform. Jung Hoseok seems friendly enough to be approachable, but he seems to have his guards up all the time.

And something tells him Hoseok knows something he doesn’t.

“It’ll be alright, Jeonggukie,” Hoseok reassures him as Seokjin puts the bag of meds on the table and quietly sits down on the opposite side of them. Jeongguk only nods and hugs him even tighter.

A sharp pang of misplaced jealousy shoots through Seokjin and he tries to reel it back in before it manifests through his actions. That should’ve been Min Yoongi comforting him right now and Seokjin should have been staring at them with affection and admiration.

“This is only because I need to check all the possibilities,” Seokjin clears his throat, tapping the pen on his note, “but are you anyway related to Jeongguk by blood, Hoseok-ssi?”

At that, Hoseok bursts out laughing. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I’m sort of a close friend.”

Seokjin nods, but Jeongguk groans and untangles himself from Hoseok, “you’re our family, hyung.”

Hoseok gives Jeongguk a smile that definitely reaches his eyes, the corner crinkling with the fullness of it. He reaches out and fixes Jeongguk’s hair. “This kid grew up right before my eyes.”

He bites his tongue. Seokjin had fallen silent the moment Jeongguk walked in with Jung Hoseok in tow. He was hoping to see a different man with him, braced himself to be faced with an immediate snarky remark. Seokjin had prepared jokes to make Yoongi laugh which he thought very hard to come up with. It all went to shit and soured his mood the moment they walked in, Seokjin's smile vanishing in a millisecond.

In hindsight, he should’ve seen this coming. Why would Yoongi want to see him after he fucked things up so royally with him? In a moment of weakness… no, it was not just a moment if he thinks about it. Seokjin took his time and let himself be enamoured by Yoongi. He knew what he felt about him and then did nothing to prevent what happened in the end. He basked in it even, soaked himself, enjoyed the feel of Yoongi’s mouth on his, savoured his taste in his tongue until he couldn’t breathe anymore. It was not just a moment of weakness that led to this.

And now he’s facing the consequences in Yoongi’s silence. Seokjin can’t take it. He always did prefer a hotheaded Yoongi over an unresponsive one.

He gives Jeongguk a list of instructions he needs to maintain along with the medications. Asks Jung Hosoek if he smokes and when Hoseok replies in the negative he tells him not to even think about starting because it will be bad for Jeongguk.

Jeongguk bows deeply to thank him for everything and when Seokjin stands up himself, he practically leaps over the table to hug him tightly. Seokjin hugs him right back, a smile finding its way on the gloom of his face.

The first time he’d met Jeongguk that night, he seemed like a scary, tough, and mature guy draped in all black. It was only a matter of time that Seokjin realized Jeongguk is really just a kid navigating his way through this life.

“Thank you.” Jeongguk mumbles. “I’ll make a painting of you in return.”

“You better make me look really handsome.”

“It will be hard not to.”

Seokjin laughs. “You’ll be fine if you follow the instructions. You just need to be careful,” he tells him as he sways him playfully, hands clasped around his back. His eyes meet Hoseok’s behind Jeongguk, the smile in his eyes tinged with sadness. For once, Seokjin gives him the benefit of the doubt and shares the same sentiment as him. His heart breaks every time he sees Jeongguk, the spark in his eyes.

When Jeongguk lets him go, it’s with reluctance and Seokjin melts at the sight of his big eyes staring up at him with adoration and reverence. He has questions he wants to ask him, but he can’t in front of Hoseok and it must show on his face because Jeongguk suddenly starts giggling.

“I know what you…Yoongi hyung had to deliver the commissioned artwork so he couldn’t come,” Jeongguk says out of nowhere catching him off-guard. And Seokjin’s heart sinks realizing that he will never be able to see the work Yoongi risked his life for. He makes an uncomfortable eye contact with Hoseok again, and the latter looks away first this time around.

“He’s already done with it?”

“Yeah. You should’ve seen how crazy he went with this piece,” Jeongguk laughs again, “he has dark circles now. He looks like a clown.”

He can’t say it but Seokjin knows exactly to what extent Yoongi went for it. Seokjin forces himself to smile, not sure whether it comes out as a grimace instead. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but he can feel Hoseok’s eyes on him but he doesn’t say anything either.

When they leave, Seokjin takes off his apron and gets ready to leave as well. He sends Taehyung a quick text asking if he’s arrived and Taehyung texts back immediately saying he’s waiting for him at the parking lot.

He hurries to leave, slinging his bag over one shoulder and locking the door before he walks out on the hallway. As he checks if the door is locked, his phone vibrates with another text.

Seokjin is not a text person. But in the past couple of days, he became very expectant of them. Any time he receives one his heart takes a leap, he jumps and opens them as fast as he can only to be disappointed when they turn out to not be from Min Yoongi.

He fishes out the phone in record time, unlocks it with his fingerprint and opens the text with enthusiasm only to be disappointed seeing who it’s from.

Jiyoo
don’t forget about hyunwoo’s exhibition this weekend
be sure to not make other plans
we’re going official

Seokjin’s sour mood bitters. He has been avoiding her like one would avoid eating a poisonous mushroom. But no one knows how to claim presence better than Song Jiyoo does. Hourly texts, updates on the engagement party, knocks on his door every two hours- Seokjin has not been able to breathe in peace for this known eternity.

Everything he wishes Min Yoongi would do to him.

He does not bother with a reply, seeing that he’s opened the text should be enough for her. She can rot in hell if it’s not, Seokjin doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

Taehyung waits for him in the open parking lot leaning on his car with a cigarette burning between his fingers. When his eyes catch sight of Seokjin, he blows out a puff of smoke up in the air.

“You look like shit,” Taehyung gripes. Seokjin’s eyes are straining, a throbbing ache concentrates at his temples.

“I feel worse,” he closes his eyes. He’s not had a good night’s sleep in days and feels like a zombie going through the motions just because he has to. Not a single bone in his body wants to get through another day anymore.

Regardless, he gets inside the car.

By the time Seokjin’s parents got divorced, he had a place secured at one of the top ranked med schools in the country and decided to stay in the dorms. His home getting divided into two meant he had two places to visit during the breaks, but even then Seokjin had chosen to stay in the dorms alone while his classmates left. Sometimes he visited Taehyung and aunt Eun-kyung because their place had offered a better respite than any of his parents did.

Taehyung had always been a perceptive child and a mature teenager and just like Seokjin, Taehyung is the only son of his family too. It hadn’t taken Seokjin much time to realize that his brother would have to face the same devastating weight of familial responsibilities as him when the time comes. It took Aunt Eun-kyung a lot of patience, struggle and money before she finally had Taehyung, and while she tried to give him everything he could ever ask for, his parents also had expectations from their one and only son.

From very early on, Seokjin knew it was less of him growing up with Taehyung and more of him helping raise his little brother along with his parents because the kid was a dainty little child and got sick very easily. It didn’t take much convincing from Seokjin’s mother for his aunt and uncle to move in close to their place and just like Seokjin had an extra mom, Taehyung had two sets of parents to take care of him as well.

Kim Taehyung looked up to him and always followed him around like a stubborn shadow. And by extension, Seokjin’s friends became his hyungs and noonas who would dote on him when he was a baby. Kim Taehyung was the ultimate neighbourhood maknae. If Seokjin thinks about it, that was probably one of the main reasons why Taehyung grew up to be so perceptive and social, because he was always surrounded by people older than him and who knew more about life and all its edges.

It wasn’t difficult for Seokjin when his parents got divorced because he saw it coming from a mile away. While Taehyung was blissfully kept in the dark about everything. It devastated Taehyung more than it did him and Seokjin tried his best to explain how separating was way better than his parents staying together. Naturally, Taehyung gravitated more towards his aunt Mikyung, Seokjin’s mother, in the separation. She stayed with them for a little while after the divorce while Seokjin was slaving away his time at the med school.

And by that time, Taehyung had already met Kim Namjoon.

Seokjin hoped Taehyung would take a liking to Song Jiyoo just as he did with Kim Namjoon. For him, Taehyung and his approval was important back then because he followed Seokjin around everywhere and whom Seokjin surrounded himself with would affect Taehyung as well. But Taehyung took an instant disliking to Jiyoo. It did not matter that initially Jiyoo tried to be very polite and nice to Taehyung because of Seokjin. She brought him his favourite chocolates and expensive toys just to get on his good side. But Kim Taehyung saw right through her at that young age and he knew Seokjin’s heart was not in this relationship as it was with Namjoon.

“What are you thinking about, hyung?” Taehyung asks from the passenger seat when Seokjin stops at a red light. It startles him, Seokjin had forgotten that Taehyung was sitting right beside him the entire time.

“Nothing,” he props up an elbow on the window. “How long has it been since you met mom?”

At that, Taehyung seems to deflate and looks out the window. “Don’t know. I stopped counting.”

Because of Song Jiyoo, Kim Taehyung slowly distanced himself and stopped following his brother around when the kid was seventeen. Seokjin had taken it to heart, and aggravatingly personally when he found out through aunt Eun-kyung that Taehyung is hellbent on leaving the country to pursue his dreams when she came crying to his doorstep asking Seokjin to convince Taehyung to stay.

It had been a huge mess, got to the point where even Seokjin’s father got involved. Dr. Kim could not believe that Taehyung did not want to use the privilege he had in the country and choose something so unconventional. His harsh words worked on Seokjin when it was his time, but Taehyung did not care about any of that. Taehyung’s parents wanted him to follow the same path as Seokjin, but he knew Taehyung was not cut out for that life.

Seokjin refused to talk Taehyung out of it because he was not going to let Taehyung meet the same fate as him. He knew if he had tried hard enough Taehyung would have stayed, and his family would not have let him do what he wanted with his life. So even though Seokjin was hurt that Taehyung didn’t tell him about it first, he took his brother’s side and fought against the rest of his family.

Aunt Eunkyung’s affection towards Seokjin dwindled after that.

“And how long since you met yours?” Seokjin accelerates again, taking a u-turn to get to the right street. “Does she even know you're here? What about your dad?”

Taehyung huffs and nods, “dad refuses to come back to Seoul.”

“And you can’t go to Daegu?”

Taehyung looks ahead in the street, “I hate that place. You know how my dad’s side of the family is.”

Seokjin purses his lips, “it could be different now that your face is plastered on the billboards on a weekly basis. They know you’ve made it.”

“You’re suggesting I suck up to them because they might treat me differently now because of my fame?”

“I’m just saying you should spend as much time with your parents while you still have them,” Seokjin reasons, turning a left corner. “They’re getting old, Taehyung-ah. They would want to keep their only son close as much as they can now.”

The silence in the car is palpable enough to cut with a knife. Seokjin can sense what’s coming. His mother told him about it once before but Seokjin isn’t sure what the update is now.

“Have you heard-” Taehyung pauses, looking at Seokjin, “you know mom and dad are thinking of adopting a little girl, right?”

Seokjin nods, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. The empty nest syndrome got to his aunt Eunkyung. Seokjin was truly surprised when his mother brought it up.

Taehyung exhales, “at this age of becoming grandparents too.”

“Since you’re not giving them one any time soon,” Seokjin tries to joke, “they might as well adopt one, don’t you think?”

Taehyung presses his knuckles against his cheek, bites the inside of it. Stays quiet.

“Would it be too bad going back home to a little sister to dote on?”

“I don’t know how I feel about it, hyung.”

“You’ve been away for too long,” he says, “they get lonely, you know.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything at that. He has always been the adored maknae, the one who got all the undivided love and affection from everyone- even when he became an adult, even after he fought out of the country- he was still the petulant child in everyone’s eyes. Seokjin gets how it must feel having that attention divided now after all these years. But such is life.

When Seokjin parks the car right in front of the house, he takes a moment for Taehyung to spare in silence.

“For what it’s worth, my little Taehyungie,” Seokjin smiles at him, Taehyung jolts at the old nickname, “you know you will always be my favourite Kim.”

***

The smell of freshly baked cheesecake hits nostrils when he opens the door to his mother’s house with his spare key.

With Taehyung in tow and his backpack slung over one shoulder, Seokjin feels like he’s back to being thirteen again, sneaking through the backdoor of his mother’s bakery at mid-noon right after school. Things were good back then, at least on the outside everything worked out well in the end. He kicks off his shoes and aligns them right by the rack, Taehyung follows his actions like the good little brother that he is.

In all of this, Seokjin doesn’t forget to check his phone for any new messages. But there are none.

Seokjin’s chest feels heavy when he hears his mother’s footsteps approaching from the kitchen. She reopened her bakery again, a couple of years after the divorce when she was emotionally sound enough and Seokjin was doing well in medical school. Seokjin knows a thing or two about parent’s loneliness because his mother made sure he knew she did not approve of him moving out and living on his own, that she was going to write him out of the will if he ever stopped calling her. His dad couldn’t care less, but his mother had always been the more emotional one.

His mood instantly lightens when his mother’s face peeks out on the living room.

“You were supposed to visit me last week,” she complains in lieu of a greeting.

“Yes mom, I missed you too,” Seokjin huffs and Taehyung snickers from behind him and she intensifies her glare at the younger one.

“And you,” she narrows her eyes at Taehyung who raises his hands like a caught criminal, grins a square smile, and walks towards his aunt Mikyung. “I think I forgot your name. I don’t even know who you are and what you’re doing in my house.”

Taehyung being the shameless troll that he is, engulfs Seokjin’s mom in a tight hug despite her complaints.

“Eommonie number twooo,” he sing-songs, “are you a vampire? You haven’t aged a day since the last time I saw you.” Taehyung giggles when she smacks him lightly on his head.

“My hair has turned grey because of the stress you two keep causing me,” she exhales deeply and Taehyung lets her go only to examine her hair closely and pouts.

“What grey hair are you talking about?”

Taehyung’s eommonie number two snorts and smacks Taehyung’s hand away from her hair and looks back at Seokjin who is trying to find a space to put his bag down. It’s been weighing heavy on his shoulder.

“Both of you go to your rooms and freshen up,” she says, “I’ll prepare dinner.”

Taehyung dramatically takes a long whiff of the air, “can we just skip to the dessert already?”

Mikyung shoos him away playfully, “no dirty clothes on my dining table.”

Seokjin settles in his own designated room while Taehyung goes into the guest room. Dinner is awkward for a second in the beginning when his mother wasn’t sure which ongoing issue she should broach first. Seokjin may be her one biological son, but she helped raise Taehyung just as lovingly as her own. Anything that’s going on in Taehyung’s life is something of concern for her too. But dinner goes surprisingly well. Mikyung talks about the new recipe she’s trying and Taehyung rambles on about his last encounter with industry assholes.

When it’s time for desserts, Mikyung slices two huge pieces of cheesecake and gives them to both of them. Taehyung immediately digs in and showers her baking skills with unstoppable praise. His eommonie number two tries to keep a straight face at first but then breaks into bursts of giggles by the end.

She twirls her hair on her finger, “it does feel nice when a world famous celebrity thinks I make the best cheesecake in the world.”

Seokjin snorts from his seat, his mother shoots him a glare. “What? You don’t think so? You haven’t even touched yours.”

“I’m full just from dinner,” Seokjin rests a hand on his tummy, “give me a minute first.”

Her shoulders slack a bit when her face softens, “you barely even finished a full plate, Seokjin-ah.”

Seokjin pokes the edge of his cheesecake with his fork.

“I don’t have much of an appetite, mom.”

It is the worst thing one could say to a mother. Her eyes widen and Seokjin knows he should not have admitted to that. She knows what’s going on. Well, half of what’s going on. Beside him Taehyung stops chewing and stiffens on his seat.

“Have you,” she starts, “you only have a week left.”

“Ten days.”

“Ten days,” she repeats after him, “are you done shopping?”

Seokjin forces himself to slice a piece off and takes a bite, shaking his head. “Jiyoo is doing all of that. Everything has to be how she imagined it would be, like always. She told me not to interfere.”

Worry flashes all over her face, “even the ring?”

Seokjin scoffs, puts the fork down silently and looks up at her. “You think she’s going to walk around wearing a ring I chose for her? She’ll get one she likes, I’ll only pay for it.”

Mikyung starts picking her nails. “Your dad told me he’ll handle everything with Il-song oppa. He said it’s going to be a small gathering. So I’m staying away from the engagement preparations for now. I’ll step in when you get married.”

“He didn’t send you a card?”

She scrunches her nose, “he did. I hated it.”

Seokjin smiles while Taehyung snorts. “Same.”

Mikyung laughs and ruffles Taehyung’s hair, cuts him another slice. Then she looks back at Seokjin when he picks up the fork again.

“Jiyoo called me last week.”

Seokjin’s hand pauses for a second before he gathers himself and slices another small piece.

“What did she say?”

“Look, Seokjin-ah,” she sighs, “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you-”

“What did she say?” Seokjin repeats, grips the fork tighter.

Mikyung sits up straight, meeting her son’s strong gaze head on. “Asked me if I knew if anything was going on with you because you’ve been distant.”

Seokjin scoffs, “right.”

“A marriage doesn’t work if you can’t communicate honestly with each other.”

He pokes the cake until it shreds at the edges. He has completely lost his appetite. “I don’t care if it works or not.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“You know why mom.”

“Jin-ah, look at me.”

He looks up at her through the disorderly bangs hanging over his eyes. She looks tensed, flashes of worry strewn all over her newly acquired wrinkles deep in her face.

“I know your dad and I weren’t the perfect example of a loving couple,” she starts, “and even though divorce is an option to get out of a failed marriage, you should only keep that as a last resort and not as an escape plan before you even get married.”

Seokjin spins his fork, “sure, mom.”

Mikyung deflates at the cold stare Seokjin is giving her, like she did not expect her son to give up so easily. Her eyes flicker to Taehyung for a second as they make eye-contact and Seokjin gulps, his throat feeling exceptionally dry.

“Think about it, Jin-ah.”

“I have.”

It’s Taehyung who drops his fork with a loud clang on his plate, Seokjin turns to him in surprise.

“Can we all agree that no one in this room actually likes Jiyoo? Maybe it will make things easier if we do? Has anyone ever thought of that?”

Mikyung glares at Taehyung, “It’s Jiyoo noona for you. She’s going to be your sister soon and I need you to behave with her when that happens. So I suggest you start doing that right now.”

Oh no.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and scoffs, “she’s never going to be my sister. I don’t want her as a part of my family. I will simply not acknowledge her-”

“Speaking of sisters, Taehyung-ah-”

“Mom-”

“No shut up, both of you,” Mikyung stares at them one after another. Taehyung opens his mouth and closes it immediately. She doesn’t raise her voice, but her tone is strong enough to silence both of the boys. “Taehyung, I need you to call your mother tonight. No, don’t give me that look, I’m not letting you out of my sight before you do.”

“And Seokjin,” her strong gaze falls on Seokjin again, “stop letting Taehyung get away with everything. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t do what we ask of him. You spoiled him more than any of us ever did. Eunkyung unnie would like to have a word with you too.”

From the corner of his eyes, Seokjin notices Taehyung curling his fists over his lap.

“Taehyung is his own person.” His mother may have a resolute tone, but Seokjin is her son too. “He’s an adult now, he can make his own decisions about his life. It’s not wise for me to get involved in this matter. He has every right to be displeased.”

It was wrong of his mother to assume Soekjin is going to take her side when it comes to Taehyung. In the end, she laughs a mirthless laugh like she can’t believe she thought Seokjin will listen to her.

“Right,” she holds her temple, “I forgot you only listen when Taehyung wants something.”

“Yes, because someone has to stand up for him and it’s not going to be any of you.” Seokjin needed someone to stand up for him too, and he made sure to be that person for Taehyung. And there is no one who knows that better than his mother. “None of you ever cared-”

“No, you’re right,” she exhales, “I’m sorry I brought this up-”

“I will call mom.”

Silence dawns. Seokjin whips his head. Taehyung’s fists are so tightly wound that his knuckles are turning white as he looks down at his lap.

“You two don’t have to fight because of me,” he speaks quietly, his deep voice full in the relative silence. “I will call mom.”

An aching throb spreads through Seokjin’s skull. He closes his eyes, “you don’t have to if you don’t-”

“No. I want to.” Taehyung grits his teeth, then stands up. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, hyung. Go worry about Jiyoo and your own life for once.”

And with that, Taehyung leaves his half eaten second slice of cake and runs upstairs.

Seokjin only stares at his path with his mouth hung open, all the words he wanted to speak dies at the tip of his tongue. When he looks back at his mom, she’s still pressing her fingers to her temple and looking at him intently. He’s not sure what he did wrong. All his life, he only ever looked out for Taehyung.

The evident sound of a door slamming shut bursts through the silence.

“He doesn’t want you to marry her,” she says after a while.

I don’t want to marry her either, he wants to say. But the thought does not materialize into words. Because some more truths are hidden underneath that confession, Seokjin isn’t sure his mother would want to unearth any of that.

“You have given him everything he wanted, Jin-ah, so why not this?”

Seokjin clears his throat. “He’s not going to live with us. He’ll get over it, he’ll be fine.”

Mikyung takes a deep breath and exhales slowly but loudly, closing her eyes. It looks like she’s preparing herself mentally to say something she didn’t know she was ever going to say to Seokjin. But she holds her silence until Seokjin gets frustrated and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just say it mom.”

“I wasn’t going to say it in front of Taehyungie,” she seems relieved to get her cue. “But do you know why your father and I got divorced?”

Out of everything Seokjin had thought she was going to say, he never imagined she was going to start recounting the events of her divorce. It was a terrible time in all of their lives. His father was barely ever home and when he was, these two were always fighting about something. If it wasn’t about Seokjin, it was about work. Towards the end it became unbearable to the point where Seokjin barely ever wanted to stay home.

“You two despised each other,” Seokjin forces the words out. He’s spent most of his life wondering why they even bothered getting married in the first place.

She gives him a small, sad smile. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Seokjin has been hearing that word quite a lot lately. Everything is complicated. Everything is going to shit. “What was it then? You didn’t love him enough, he didn’t love you enough?”

Mikyung inhales one more time before she starts gathering the plates on the table. “We were both safe options for each other. We had known each other for years before we got married. Although we never dated.”

“We both thought that alone was enough to sustain a marriage, that familiarity” she continues. “We tried for years, and eventually had you.” She smiles looking at him. Seokjin still isn’t sure where she is going with this. He knew he wasn’t born as a result of two people loving each other. He knew early on that he was only a societal responsibility his parents had to conform to.

“But there was something else,” she says, “or, well, someone else.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen on their own accord at her words. “You-”

“No,” she cuts him off knowing exactly what words he was going to utter. “It’s not what it sounds like. I did not cheat on him, he did not cheat on me.”

This time, Seokjin frowns, “I don’t understand.”

Mikyung stands up and Seokjin follows. She gathers the plates on the furthest corner of the table and Seokjin helps her by handing them over.

“I’d known him for years, remember?” She leans her weight on the edge of the table. Seokjin nods. “Before we got married, your father was in love with one of his patients he couldn’t save. She was…she was beautiful and kind. I knew her briefly before she died.”

Seokjin clenches his fists. This is not something he thought he would be hearing when he got here in the evening. Hell, this is not something he wanted or needed to hear. Seokjin never saw his father evoking any human emotions other than anger, he was as stoic as a robot, worked night and day and only cared about Seokjin when it served his purpose. It is hard to imagine him as someone who was capable of love once upon a time.

“Mom, if this is your way of getting me to forgive him for everything he did to me, then it’s not working.”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “That’s not…look, Jin-ah.” Mikyung rounds the table and stands by the living room couch. “Your father and I thought we could work out even though he never loved me the way he loved her. We thought it wouldn’t matter but it did. It affected me and by extension it mattered in how he treated you.”

Seokjin hears the words his mother doesn’t dare to say. The crumples on her face evident enough for it.

He would’ve loved you more if you were her son, if he had you with her.

That same inherited anger bubbles up like bile up his throat. “Then he’s just a fucking asshole. Stop trying to defend his actions.”

“I’m not.” He can see the tick in his mother’s jaw clearly when she says, “I just hope this is not the case for you too. Because the way I see things are going, you’ll end up just like your father.”

In a split second, Yoongi’s face flashes across his mind. She can’t be saying what he thinks she’s saying.

Seokjin feels his own lips trembling, “how can you-”

“Jiyoo told me she’s afraid there’s someone else.”

Time ticks away gently like waves of water as Seokjin forgets he needs to breathe. He can’t believe what he just heard from his own mother. He can’t believe Song Jiyoo had the audacity to butt her nose in where it does not belong.

“I hope you’re not making the same mistake your father did, Seokjin-ah.” The look his mother is giving him is horrible. Seokjin would rather jump off of a cliff than be at the receiving end of that look again. “This isn’t something I want to get involved in. Jiyoo asked me to, but I will not. Like you keep saying about Taehyung, you are also an adult who is capable of making his own decisions. But as your mother, Kim Seokjin, I don’t want you to make the wrong one that you will regret for the rest of your life.” She takes a deep breath, “so if it’s true that there is someone else, don’t get married to Jiyoo. You will both end up being miserable.”

Seokjin doesn’t have the heart to refute any of that. He can’t say yes and he can’t say no. It feels like he’s stuck in a labyrinth he created himself on the way in and got lost on his way out. He keeps staring at the floor because he doesn’t have the guts to look up at his mother, afraid of what colour of disappointment he’s going to find there.

In the end, his mother walks closer and hugs him, smoothing his damp hair down his nape. Kissing his temple. It’s almost as if he’s melting into her touch, feeling helpless as the baby he once was in her embrace. He wants to cry, he wants to wail at the top of his lungs. He wants to scream until the ground opens up and swallows him whole. He wants to run to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands and disappear like ashes.

It’s terrible. He feels like a child again; boneless in his mother’s arms.

Seokjin kicks a stone in frustration, doesn’t see where it lands in the dark.

The cigarette between his index and middle finger burns forgotten as he types in a long message before backspacing the entirety of it. He takes one drag finally when only his words keep staring back at him.

mianhae yoongi-ah

It’s later at night when his mother has gotten to bed. He’s not sure what Taehyung is doing though, he was adamant about not opening the door when Seokjin knocked. He’s considering getting back into his car and leaving to see Yoongi at his place. He called Yoongi’s number but it went unanswered.

He’s not sure where he found the energy to sneak out into the street in front of his mother’s house to call Yoongi. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s pure delusion that he thinks he has it in him to manage blows after blows. He needs to unwind, he needs something stronger than a cigarette.

Suddenly, the cigarette floats off from his hand. In the dead of the night, Seokjin jolts in surprise as he turns around to see Taehyung standing right behind him, the bud off the cigarette now in his mouth as he takes a drag.

“Shit,” Seokjin curses with a hand over his heart. “You scared me.”

Taehyung blows the smoke upwards. “You snuck out without me.”

Taking one last glance at his phone’s empty inbox, Seokjin locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket. “I did knock on your door.” Seokjin clears his throat, “you called your mom?”

Taehyung nods very slowly, “now I have a headache. How’d it go with yours?”

Seokjin only shrugs. Taehyung takes another drag of the cigarette before he silently offers it back to Seokjin, who snatches it away without any hesitation. The nicotine entering his bloodstream calms some of his nerves, but it does nothing to soothe the exhaustion in his spirit.

“Who were you calling? Not your mom, of course.” Taehyung asks out suddenly. “You look shittier now that no one picked up.”

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. “No one.”

“I’ve been thinking.” He says and Seokjin looks up at him. “You never did tell me what happened that night,” Taehyung muses when Seokjin continues to take drags long enough for the cigarette to burn quickly. “You came down from those stairs looking like a ghost.”

Seokjin wants to laugh at the irony of what Taehyung just said. He did feel like he absorbed some of that ghostly element from Yoongi, so much so that Taehyung had to drive him back home because his hands were shaking uncontrollably. When he’s done, he drops the bud on the ground and stomps it with the tip of his shoe. Taehyung watches him carefully.

“Nothing happened,” he says, rubbing his nose and then sniffing the post-rain cold air into his lungs.

Why does everyone keep wanting him to talk about Min Yoongi?

“You’re cheating on Jiyoo, aren’t you?”

Seokjin could never get Taehyung to call her noona, no one ever could. His in-built bullshit meter was at an all time high the moment he met her and it never got better. Jiyoo tried but in the end those two never got along. Taehyung refused to show her any respect by calling her by her name only, a rebellion he caused because he never gave a shit about her. But that’s not what makes Seokjin jittery.

Any other day, the answer to Taehyung’s question would be a resounding no, which is not the case anymore.

Seokjin couldn’t answer his mother about it, the words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. But Taehyung is different. That’s his baby brother he helped raise since he was a baby himself. He shared the entirety of his adolescent years carrying Taehyung on his back and stealing cakes for him from his mother’s bakery.

He closes his eyes and looks down at the ground, breathing in the smell of wet grass deeply to gather his wits. He was supposed to keep this a secret, was planning to take this to his grave. But he’s not sure he can anymore. The weight of it is weighing on him so much he wants his own separate void to scream into.

So he tells him everything.

Because there’s no use lying to Taehyung.

“I haven’t told Yoongi about the engagement.”

Seokjin opens his eyes to see Taehyung’s reaction, in the dark, Taehyung crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You’re cheating on your fiance and you’re worried about keeping your engagement a secret from Yoongi hyung?”

“Yoongi doesn’t deserve it.”

“And Jiyoo does?”

Seokjin runs a hand down his face.

“Hyung, I’m telling you again if you don’t want to marry Jiyoo then just call it off-”

“Fuck, you think it’s that easy?!” Seokjin whips at him, his voice loud enough to cut through the silence. He knows Taehyung doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his frustrations, but he’s unable to stop himself. All that pent up energy and nowhere to vent them into and Taehyung is here poking at a sleeping bear.

“Do you have any idea what’s at stake here, Taehyung? My job, my entire career that I worked so fucking hard for all these years? You think Jiyoo will let me work there if I break up with her? You think her dad would? I can’t give it all away just because…because…fuck!”

In a moment, Taehyung’s soft features crumple. “A career you didn’t even want in the first place, hyung. When will you ever prioritize yourself, huh? When will you ever give yourself fucking break and do what you fucking want for once in your life?”

He did exactly that, didn’t he? That is how he got himself into this mess in the first place. Seokjin ran after what he wanted back when he ran away from home that one last time and rammed headfirst into Kim Namjoon. He ran after what he wanted a couple of days ago and ruined it all with Min Yoongi. Trying to get what he wants has gotten him nowhere in this life.

Seokjin glares at Taehyung, “I tried doing that, Taehyung-ah. And it feels like shit.”

Taehyung clenches his jaw, “that’s because you’re going about it in all the wrong ways.”

“That’s so easy for you to say when you’re not in my shoes,” Seokjin grits his teeth, “you don’t have responsibilities tying you down to the ground. You can do whatever you fucking want living in a foreign country while I rot here-”

“And whose fault is that?!” Taehyung cuts him off. “I told you not to go back home! I told you not to leave Namjoon hyung! He didn’t even know your real name and he was determined to make it for you. You would have made it as a successful actor by now if you had stuck to it! But you never fucking listened to me!”

“You were a child!”

“And I still stand by that!” Taehyung says like that same petulant child, like they’re back in their childhood home again, repeating the same conversation decades in the future. “You shouldn’t have thrown away the only thing that made you happy.”

Seokjin looks at him in disbelief. He opens his mouth like fish but no words come out. Taehyung was mature for his age back then and that is because he never let his mind be limited by the rules of the world run by adults. If he thought something was possible, then it was. Fuck everything else. He still hasn’t lost that superpower as it seems. Seokjin’s heart is beating fast and hard and he feels like it wants to come out of its cages.

“Now look where that got you,” Taehyung spits. “Why do you think I came back, huh? You think I came back for my parents who want to replace me? I came back for you! I heard about the engagement and thought to myself, no this can’t be what Seokjin hyung wants. Maybe he’s being forced into it, maybe he wants to get out but he’s stuck and maybe I can help him get out of it like he helped me all my fucking life. But guess I was wrong.” He inhales sharply. “It’s been years and you’re still that stupid fucking teenager who doesn’t know what’s good for himself.”

“Taehyung.”

“You know why I have the freedom I do now, hyung?” Taehyung does not stop, “because I don’t give a fuck about what people expect me to do! You think it was easy for me to leave a comfortable home that young to pursue my dreams? You think I had it easy as the rebellious son while having a brother as ideal and perfect as you? I got compared to you in every single aspect. Be as studious as your Seokjin hyung, be good at sports like your Seokjin hyung, be amazing at singing like your Seokjin hyung. You’re so wrong, it was not easy for me when you were the one who set the bar so fucking high I couldn’t even see where it was.”

Seokjin stares in disbelief, breathes in the cold air into his lungs, “I made sure you didn’t have the same suffocating upbringing as me. I made sure you knew you had the option to follow your dreams if you wanted to.”

“I know. So now I’m trying to make sure you don’t make the same mistake as you did last time. You don’t always get to play the hero, hyung, sometimes you need to accept that you have your back to a wall.” Taehyung fists his hands, “but I’m not sure if I can help someone who does not want to be saved in the first place.”

Seokjin’s throat constricts, “I wish it was as black and white as you make it out to be. But we all have to do things we don’t want to because it’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do.” Scoffing, Taehyung stands still for a moment, then shakes his head in disappointment. “You talk about how Jiyoo only cares about her reputation and the perfect way the world sees her life but how are you, Seokjin hyung, any better than her? You’re marrying her for the same reasons she’s marrying you. Don’t you see it? Or are you fucking blind?”

It’s as though Taehyung dunked him in ice cold water. First his mother practically telling him he’s turning into his father and now this. He knows what kind of life awaits him if he ends up marrying Song Jiyoo. He knows exactly how miserable he will be if it actually happens, his mom made sure Seokjin understood the ramifications of his actions. Their relationship was always hanging by a loose thread that Jiyoo kept tightening from her side until Seokjin was trapped in it. But is he doing anything to get out of it? Taehyung is right. He’s not better than Jiyoo, he’s just as insecure as her.

Seokjin curls his fists, looking up at Taehyung.

“What I had with…Namjoon was mutual,” he lets himself utter his name for the first time in forever. It feels like ripping the skin off his flesh, like amputating limbs without anaesthesia. He watches as Taehyung also takes a sharp breath. Shame crawls up his spine and he looks down to hide his face from him. “We were something worth fighting for. I just didn’t have the guts to do it back then. And I regretted that choice my whole life. I-” Seokjin covers his face with both of his hands before looking up again. “I went looking for him, you know that. I searched for him everywhere but I couldn’t find him again.”

Taehyung runs his hand through his hair, “now you’re about to make that same choice with Yoongi hyung.”

“It’s different with Yoongi. He doesn’t care about me. I can run away from her, but there’s nothing for me to run to.”

The laugh Taehyung laughs is cold and mirthless. “That’s bullshit. You can’t be talking about the same Yoongi who kept laughing and glancing at you in the car while I was talking to him. I saw the way he was looking at you but I guess you were too busy self-pitying to notice.” He pauses. Then, “unless you’re doing this on purpose because marrying Jiyoo is the safer option.”

That can’t be it. Yoongi hates him. Seokjin’s nails dig into his skin, his knuckles have probably turned white.

He clenches his jaw, “he said he doesn’t like me like that.”

Taehyung closes his eyes and touches his temples, “then why the fuck, did you kiss him?!”

Seokjin feels like his head is going to explode, he feels like he’s been running non-stop and he needs a fucking break and Taehyung is hell bent on not giving it to him. He breathes in slowly, then breathes out.

Once. Twice.

“Because I wanted to,” he says as calmly as he can. “Because I want him so bad I can’t think of anything else and I haven’t felt like this about anyone since Namjoon. But it’s a shame Taehyung,” he purses his lips and gives him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “it’s a shame that he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Hyung, he kissed you back. He looked at you fondly in the car and he kissed you back.”

Seokjin shakes his head in an attempt to not let his words get to him.

“Don’t give me false hope Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin inhales, “Not now. I’m not strong enough to take it.”

Taehyung stares at him straight in the eye and says, “you say you haven’t felt like this about anyone since Namjoon hyung.”

Like a criminal caught red handed, Seokjin nods.

“I don’t know what to do with all these feelings for him. There’s so much of it I think I’m going to die,” Seokjin looks away, “I want to see him everyday. I see him suffer and I want to make things easier for him. He looks so beautiful when he smiles, I want to make him laugh all the time. Yoongi is…he took me by surprise. I didn’t think anyone could make my heart beat this fast. But he does. Like I’m running a marathon. He gets under my skin, he thinks I’m an asshole and all I want to do is offer him the goddamn world.”

“That’s…”

“Sue me. Yoongi makes me a poet. It has terrible repercussions.”

Seokjin watches as his previously angry face softens and he knows immediately he’s not going to like what Taehyung is about to say.

“And you think this is not something worth fighting for?”

The tick in his jaw is starting to hurt now, the ache inside his head expanding to his neck. He’s sick, this is some kind of a sickness, Seokjin figures. One he’ll need to prescribe himself out of but he has no diagnosis of it.

“I’m just not sure I have any more fights left in me, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung looks at him sadly like Seokjin is the loneliest man to walk on this earth. He sure does feel like one. It has to be a good thing that Yoongi is avoiding him now, that he refuses to even acknowledge Seokjin’s existence. He should be glad that Yoongi is giving him a way out of this.

But he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Yoongi never speaks to him again. He’s already going insane from the silence. He came this close to seeing him today but even that was taken away from him. Nothing in his life ever went the way he wanted them to. He was a fool to think this time it would be different. He’s cursed like that, it seems. That has to be it.

Seokjin is cursed with always being left with all the broken things.

Chapter Text

A zombie is more zealous than Kim Seokjin.

He brings Taehyung straight to the hospital first because he didn’t have the time to take a detour to drop him off at his own place. His mother made sure both of them had breakfast up to their neck before they left. He didn’t exactly have a good night’s sleep, and his headache still hadn’t subsided when he woke up. So he took an ibuprofen right after breakfast which helped soothe the ache for the time being.

Seokjin brings one extra chair from the waiting room for Taehyung to sit at one corner of his chamber. Taehyung sits quietly for two minutes before he starts fidgeting.

“Hyung, can I borrow your phone?” He asks, Seokjin already takes it out of his pocket. “My phone is at three percent and I left my charger at your house.”

Seokjin holds his phone out in complete silence and Taehyung hops off of his chair to snatch it away from him before going back to his designated corner. It’s amazing how last night’s edge has worn off of Taehyung by the time he woke up and he hugged his eommonie number two first thing in the morning as if everything had gone back to normal. Seokjin wishes he had the kind of emotional reset button like Taehyung does.

A gasping sound comes from Taehyung’s direction.

“Uh, hyung?”

Seokjin tries to focus on his notes, “Hush Taehyung-ah.”

“You might wanna-”

“Taehyung-ah, sshh!”

A beat of silence passes where Taehyung doesn’t try to talk back and Seokjin thinks this is it. He will stop bothering him now. But then Taehyung shuffles in his seat again.

“You have a text from Yoongi hyung.”

Something superhuman possesses Seokjin. He leaps out of his chair and flies towards Taehyung in the corner in a split second, practically ambushing him as he snatched his phone back from him. The violence is inherent. Fisting the front of Taehyung’s shirt, he unlocks his phone with just one hand.

His entire body trembles when he clicks on Yoongi’s name in bold.

Yoongi
Need to talk to you about Jeongguk

Seokjin’s heart is beating fast as if he just received flowers from his longtime high school crush. It’s not a text he was expecting from Yoongi, regardless, it is a text from Yoongi. So he’s counting his blessings.

He isn’t sure where they stand now considering the situation. But the text promises a meeting in the future. It means they are going to talk. About Jeongguk, yes, but they are going to talk. Which means they will see each other in the near future. Yoongi wants to see him. Seokjin is going to see him and they’re going to talk about Jeongguk.

“I wish you could see the smile on your face right now, hyung.”

The unwitting smile on Seokjin’s face drops right away. He takes a quick glance at Taehyung and then back at his phone, turning away from him so Taehyung can’t see his expression anymore.

A myriad of things are running through his head right now. Everything he wants to say to Yoongi. Texts are not sufficient enough for the multitude of his emotions. His hands are itching to press the call button right away. But he had to suffer an eternity of silence only to get this one line from Yoongi, the last thing he wants to do is mess this opportunity up.

So he reigns the butterflies in his stomach in and begins to type as nonchalantly as possible.

Seokjin
Okay. Alright
When are you free?
I’ll come pick you up

“Hyung, are you double texting?”

Looking at his own words, Seokjin mourns his last remaining brain cells. He’s way past double texting now. There is no coming back. He looks back over his shoulder at Taehyung.

“You’re not getting this phone back.”

Taehyung sighs, then gets up and walks towards the door. “Fine. I’ll look around this place I guess.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again when the door clicks shut with Taehyung’s departure.

Yoongi
I’m right outside of the hospital

Seokjin has never run through the hallways as fast as this before in his life, too worked up to think of taking the elevator. Not even when Yoongi was here hooked to an IV. No, that was barely scratching the surface of Seokjin’s superhuman speed. Now Seokjin runs faster than the speed of light, shouldering past nurses and fellow doctors, cursing and apologizing left and right in a sudden frenzy.

It’s a soft sunny day, the rain from last night has cleared the sky up. Birds are chirping, lush green leaves flowing with the soft breeze. People are rushing to work with coffee in their hands. Seokjin bursts through the main door and out onto the street, panting hard and frantically looking left and right in search of Yoongi.

And there he was.

Right by the shade of a tree on the sidewalk, with a shoulder bag slung diagonally as he grips the base of the strap, his unevenly home-cut bangs falling haphazardly over his eyes looking down at his shoes, sporting a light blue shirt and beige pants- stands Min Yoongi.

Sunlight gently caresses his face, landing on his dark hair, making him squint.

Yoongi hasn’t noticed him yet, so Seokjin takes a moment to prepare himself. Watching as Yoongi looks away at the side, his cheeks donning a shy pink under the half sunlight. He watches as Yoongi checks his phone, probably wondering what was taking Seokjin so long to reply. And Seokjin smiles to himself, only if he knew exactly what.

Around him, life registers. Time seems to stand still the moment Yoongi’s eyes dart around and fall on Seokjin’s own, slightly taken aback knowing now that Seokjin was already looking at him.

Gathering his wits, Seokjin takes the few steps required to minimize the distance between them.

“You sure you’re not a fragment of my imagination, Yoongi-ssi?”

The words slip out of his mouth without a filter or caution, rhyme or reason. He’s not sure where the formality came from. Maybe because it feels like they’re back to square one, where they started after the long silence.

Yoongi stares at him first, hoping to maintain eye contact for longer. But he gives up right away and looks out at the street again, moves his head slowly, right and then left. Then gazes back up.

“Not unless you have schizophrenia, Dr. Kim.” Yoongi tilts his head, gripping the strap tightly and squinting the sun away. “Do you?”

A flat smile appears and disappears from Seokjin’s face at the formality, “I hope not.”

Yoongi looks back down, drags his shoe on the asphalt and nods, “good thing then.”

It is definitely awkward. Seokjin wants to say and ask things he’s not sure he should. Yoongi looks like he’s not sure how to broach any topic of conversation. But if Seokjin has learned anything about him then it is that Yoongi will try to pretend nothing happened. And Seokjin shall give Yoongi what he wants.

For now at least.

As much as Seokjin likes how pretty Yoongi looks standing under the sun, he reaches out to hold Yoongi’s elbows lightly. Yoongi jolts, confused as to what Seokjin is doing and then calming down when Seokjin pulls him backwards and stands under complete shade. Seokjin lets him go just as fast, the warmth through Yoongi’s shirt too much for him to handle at the moment. This is neither the time nor the place for it.

“Ghosts shouldn’t spend too long under the sun,” Seokjin jokes. “You will dissipate soon.”

Scrunching his nose, Yoongi gives him an unimpressed look, “I think you’re confusing ghosts with a vampire.”

Seokjin looks up in mock contemplation, curling his lips and pretending to be deep in thought. “Why? Have you ever seen ghosts in broad daylight?”

“Personally, I’ve never seen ghosts in the dead of the night either.”

“Maybe you’re not looking in the right places,” Seokjin grins, pointing back at the hospital. “Would you like to pay a visit to the morgue-”

“Please, I’m not interested,” Yoong is visibly mortified. “I don’t want to disrupt their peace because they haven’t disrupted mine.”

It is fascinating how they’re entertaining this conversation now in the light of the day, completely sober and seeing each other clearly. It is reminiscent of their very first interaction that night, when Seokjin was drunk and Yoongi went off on a tangent on the science of ghosts.

It feels the same. Almost. Yoongi at this time is more familiar than ever.

A ghost from the past, if you will.

If he could, he would hold Yoongi’s hand right now. Would clasp their fingers together. They fit perfectly, Seokjin knows that very well now. Yoongi’s palm is very soft, very delicate. He has pink knuckles and his veins are purple through his pale skin like a tempest at night.

“You keep staring at me, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi says his name carefully, enunciating each syllable. “Don’t you have a counter argument?”

“I want to stare at you longer,” the words roll out of Seokjin’s tongue like a red carpet before he can stop himself. He should take into account where they’re standing right outside of his workplace. Any one can see them any time and start making assumptions. Word could get around and reach Jiyoo. But Seokjin is staring at Yoongi like a famished raven and that is the last thing on his mind right now. They’re not doing anything wrong.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You have accumulated a lot of staring debt since the last time I saw you, Yoongi. I’ve been deprived and now you owe it to me.”

Yoongi’s deep breath is visibly shaky, seems as though he was not expecting Seokjin to be so bold. He starts looking around, stepping away to avoid getting hit by another passer-by on the shoulder. When he adjusts back on his step, he doesn’t face Seokjin. He stares ahead at where the sidewalk leads to and Seokjin can practically hear the gears shift in his head.

“I met your husband yesterday,” it’s Seokjin who breaks the silence again and brings Yoongi out of his reverie, Yoongi glances at him sideways. “Handsome guy. Why didn’t you come with him?”

“I was busy.”

“Right.”

“Really.”

“Jeongguk told me you gave away the artwork you almost died for-”

“I sold it, hyung.”

One of the many deep gashes on Seokjin closes up in the soothe of Yoongi’s voice calling him. Something akin to relief wraps his aching shoulders like lukewarm honeywater in cold. This is a good thing, he thinks to himself. The awkwardness will eventually blur away.

“Did you at least give it a name?” Seokjin asks, “or did you abandon it the way you abandoned me?”

Yoongi stares up at the sky in a desperate plea for help before looking down again, “hyung.”

And Seokjin could do this all day, he could tease Yoongi to the point where the only word he utters to him is a desperate hyung. But not now, the voice in his head whispers at him. Not now.

“I wanted to see it, is all.” Seokjin bites the inside of his cheeks. “I was curious to see how it turned out.”

Yoongi sighs deeply again, staring away at the street. “Moon’s Children.”

“What?”

He glances up at Seokjin.

“It’s called Moon’s Children.”

Seokjin smiles, “that sounds like a masterpiece.”

“I will show you later. I needed to talk to you about Jeongguk.” Clearing his throat, Yoongi points forward with his thumb, “do you want to sit somewhere and talk? I heard from Jeongguk that the cafe three blocks away is a good one. I’m not a coffee person, I only drink decaf from time to time. But I figured you might like it. It’s not the alcohol you love so much but it’s better I guess. Do you like it? They serve breakfast too if you’re hungry. It’s my treat.” Yoongi finishes in one breath.

Seokjin can clearly see the thumb Yoongi is using to point is trembling. He’s not sure if Yoongi has hand tremors or if it's because of stress, anxiety, fatigue, nerves or low blood sugar. He does suffer from some level of malnutrition, that is for sure, if his white conjunctiva was anything to go by.

“I also need to show you something,” Yoongi continues, “Jeongguk…I think something is going on with his asthma and he’s not telling me. And I don’t know who else to go to about this.”

Seokjin squints, “what? I gave him all the medications and inhalers as well.”

“No, I know, it’s not-” Yoongi trails off, and fidgets. “Look, I need to show it to you. It’s someplace else. Do you have time now? I’ll take you there.”

As much as Seokjin would like to run away with Yoongi somewhere far away and never come back, this is something he cannot do right this moment.

“I can’t,” Seokjin watches as Yoongi slowly brings his hand down at his side. “I have appointments all day. I can’t cancel-”

“Right, right. I forgot. It’s fine.” Yoongi suddenly speaks in an octave higher than usual. “You gotta save lives first.”

Seokjin scrunches his nose, “only because they’re paying me for it.”

Yoongi blinks, “Really? Is money truly that big of a motivation for you to sacrifice most of your own life for the sake of humanity?”

A breeze blows Yoongi’s hair sideways as Seokjin tilts his head, “do you think anyone would get anything done if it didn’t have a monetary incentive? People aren’t saints, Yoongi-ah. Neither am I.”

There is a moment where Yoongi looks like he’s examining Seokjin’s face, or searching in it for a particular trait. Not sure if he finds anything there.

Then Yoongi says something Seokjin was not prepared to hear in this lifetime.

“No, but. I think it suits you,” Yoongi says, “this job, I mean.” He chuckles to himself lightly, with no idea about the storm he is causing to brew inside Seokjin. “You do have the hero complex required to survive in this field. You’re the type to see a hurt squirrel and stop in the middle of the road to pet it. Why else would you help Jeongguk like that? It’s…kind. You’re kind. You’ve been kind to him. And me. It must’ve been hard though. Did you always want to become a doctor?”

Only if Yoongi knew. Seokjin finds it hard to get the words out, this isn’t the time or place to have this conversation. He’s not sure why…it’s a dangerous thought to think, that maybe Yoongi is buying some time with him, that maybe he doesn’t want to leave right away. Like there is something more he wants to say but he’s not quite sure how to start. Seokjin doesn’t want to think any of this, and doesn't want to remember what Taehyung said about Yoongi. But he can’t help it. Yoongi’s laugh is so wonderful, it sounds like chimes in the summer wind. And it being directed at him, for him, is making Seokjin think scary thoughts.

Seokjin gulps.

“This is a question for dates only,” he manages a half smile, “I’ll tell you when you treat me to the coffee you promised.”

Yoongi visibly deflates and Seokjin wants to scream at him to make sure he knows it’s not because Seokjin doesn’t want to go. He was not prepared to hear these words from anyone, much less Yoongi, and he’s sure he won’t be able to keep standing still if he hears any more of them.

“It’s not a date,” Yoongi subtly clears his throat. “I’m not trying to steal you from Jiyoo-ssi. This is a bad time, I understand. Sorry I wasn’t thinking this through.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seokjin instinctively takes a step, brings his hand back towards himself, one he hadn’t even realized reached out to hold Yoongi again. “Are you free tonight after seven?”

Yoongi shakes his head. Dammit.

“Tomorrow then?”

Yoongi tilts his head, “tomorrow after seven?” Seokjin nods. “It works for me.”

“Alright then,” Seokjin exhales. “I’ll pick you up after work.”

“You don’t have to go that far.” Yoongi refutes, already taking steps away from Seokjin. “I can come here. See you tomorrow then.”

Seokjin already feels hollow. Tomorrow is a lifetime away. How will he make it through today and then again make it through tomorrow to meet Yoongi on the opposite side of making it through?

“See you soon,” Seokjin mumbles just loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

He watches Yoongi nodding and then walking away in slow, hesitant steps. Yoongi walks back out into the sunlight, lighting him up again in light blue. And Seokjin stands still watching him leave.

That is until-

Yoongi gazes back over his shoulder at Seokjin. Like he forgot something really important, stopping several feet away, gripping the strap of his bag again for dear life.

For a moment Seokjin thinks Yoongi is going to trudge back to him, so he readily straightens up. Yoongi opens and closes his mouth in a split second, making Seokjin believe he’ll say something and then doesn’t say it. But he turns around and takes another hesitant step in the opposite direction.

Seokjin doesn’t even have the time to slouch in disappointment.

Because Yoongi stops in his tracks again, this time spinning his full body around and storming back over at where Seokjin is standing. Yoongi is looking down at his bag, careful of not meeting his eyes. Seokjin can’t help the smile that makes its way on his own face.

“If you missed me so much-”

“Shut up,” Yoongi, at the very least, tries to sound irritated.

Seokjin, effectively, shuts up. Yoongi opens the button of his bag first, then unzips the chain underneath. He rummages inside. Seokjin can see some things in the bag, but he quickly looks away because he doesn’t want to seem rude looking into someone’s personal belongings.

The thing Yoongi brings out of his bag has a thin wooden frame around white piece of paper. Yoongi hands it to Seokjin. Seokjin looks at Yoongi’s downturned face when he takes it, then looks down to see what it is that Yoongi had forgotten.

And, well.

“A sketch of Taehyung.”

Yoongi hums, “Jeongguk made it. He asked me to give it to you and to ask you to give it to Taehyung-ssi.”

“Wow.”

Jeon Jeongguk is talented, alright. He met Taehyung once and drew him from memory. The sketch is an impeccable imitation of Kim Taehyung staring right into the viewer. At a first glance, it seems like he’s ready to attack whoever looks at the sketch, but a closer inspection provides other insights like how his gaze isn’t scary but cautious, like he’s trying to make sure whoever is on the receiving end doesn’t run away. Seokjin examines closer, at the very bottom of the page, Jeongguk’s initials, JK, is written in cursive.

“And this one too.”

He didn’t notice when Yoongi brought out another frame out of his bag and now shoving it towards him. Seokjin takes it too, holding Taehyung’s sketch against his chest.

This second frame is only a little thicker. The page inside is not white, it’s blue. Various shades of blue. It’s not a simple sketch, it’s-

“A painting of me.” Seokjin’s mouth hangs open.

In the painting, Seokjin is looking back over his shoulder, not at the viewer but to the side at something not present inside the bounds of the frame. There is only a hint of a spoken word on his face, his mouth slightly open. Caught between the moments of sound and silence. His hair is a dark navy, his skin is light like cornflower. There are tiny sparkles of gold in his eyes, around his smile. The entire thing is painted in a faded effect to give off an ethereal aesthetic, every outline is blurred just enough to make it look hazy, as though you’re looking at it through a blanket of smog. Golden paints smudged here and there. Like this is something one can only see in a dream.

And right beneath the painting, on the frame in a white strip of paper, adorns a hand written line-

another name of love is the colour blue

The sound around him is muted, he’s not too focused on the blaring horns of the cars passing by. He couldn’t care less about a man shouting at someone on his phone. And Yoongi has been quiet since.

“Jeongguk sure is talented,” Seokjin mutters, still in a daze after seeing himself painted in such a way.

“Mm?”

Seokjin looks up to see Yoongi biting his lip right into his mouth.

“Jeongguk.” He repeats, “he told me yesterday he was going to draw me as a compensation for his treatment. And he made this overnight.” He smiles at Yoongi, “you raised a talented young man.”

He’s not sure what the shaky look in Yoongi’s eyes is. Pride, he likes to think, maybe a little embarrassment too, upset mixed somewhere in there. Which is an odd combination. In the end, that look slowly morphs into a careful smile.

“Jeongguk works hard,” he says, “I can’t help but be proud of him.”

“I love it.” Seokjin smiles back. “Tell him I said thank you.”

“I will,” he nods.

Yoongi skips back away again. For real this time. When he steps out into the light, he raises his hand and gives him a tiny wave.

Seokjin can’t reciprocate because both of his hands are full now. But he takes a forward step.

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi.”

“See you tomorrow, Seokjin hyung.”

This time, Yoongi’s steps are sure and determined and quick like he wants to run away from Seokjin as fast as possible.

This time, Yoongi doesn’t look back over his shoulder, as though he burns to the sight.

This time, Yoongi truly leaves.

Seokjin finds space for the frames to occupy on his own table right against the wall. Taehyung isn’t back in his room yet, so he brings out his phone to call him. And then he remembers it might have switched off by now. Sighing, he walks out of his room again with the thought of asking Taehyung to take his car back home and to take the frames with him.

The winding paths of the hallways aren’t Seokjin’s favourite. It smells like suffering all over. He may be used to the antiseptic smell of the place but it does not mean he likes it. This is the liminal space between health and illness, life and death, there is nothing to like about it.

Before anything, Jimin finds Seokjin first. The kid is panting hard, holding his chest and trying to get the words out.

“Hyung,” Jimin huffs out, “It’s Jiyoo-ssi.” Is all he says for Seokjin to understand what might have happened. Dread fills up in his lungs. Gone is the fluffy feeling in his stomach induced by Min Yoongi.

True to his assumptions, it’s not just Jiyoo. It’s Taehyung and Jiyoo, standing face to face in front of her own room on the floor right above. Seokjin is panting along with Jimin when he gets to them, noticing Taehyung’s fisted hands by his side saying something to her.

“I don’t know who he is,” Jimin says from the back, “but I saw them talking harshly and ran to find you.”

Seokjin has no intention of replying to Jimin. He jogs over to where Taehyung looks like he’s about to turn the place upside down from its roots. Jiyoo, on the other hand, stands still looking very cautious. Angry, sure, but very fucking cautious.

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin calls softly when he’s in Taehyung’s earshot.

It’s Jiyoo who responds to him instead, “Jin. I had no idea you brought him here.”

Seokjin looks at her at last, bile bubbling up his throat. Taehyung scoffs, "Hyung doesn’t need your permission to do anything, Jiyoo.”

Jiyoo grits her teeth, glaring daggers at Taehyung, “I see you still haven’t learned any manners.”

Taehyung chuckles coldly, “huh, that’s actually a good thing, coming from you.”

“Taehyung!” Seokjin butts in finally, harshly grabbing Taehyung’s elbow and turning him to face himself. “This isn’t the time or place!”

“So when exactly is it going to be the time or place?” Taehyung hisses at him, pointing a finger at Jiyoo. “When you marry her and she ruins you completely?”

Seokjin’s hold on him tightens, “Taehyung-ah, don’t-”

“You think your brother is a saint, don’t you, Taehyung?” Jiyoo scoffs from the side. They both look at her just in time to see her cross her arms. “Why don’t you give your sweet little brother a demonstration on how you treat me, Jin? If he knows who you really are, maybe then he will stop embarrassing you at your workplace.”

Taehyung yanks his hand away from Seokjin’s grip. “However he treats you, I’m sure you deserve every fucking bit of it,” he spits.

“Get the fuck out of my sight, you piece of shit!” Jiyoo raises her voice.

Taehyung gives her a nasty smirk, “stay out of my sight too.” He does not even wait for Jiyoo to reply. He doesn’t look at Seokjin and storms past him, past Jimin and disappears around the halls. Seokjin makes a subtle eye contact with Jimin, who gets the hint and runs after Taehyung to make sure he doesn’t get lost in the maze and end up somewhere he’s not supposed to.

At the sound of Jiyoo exhaling through her mouth, Seokjin turns and sees her holding her temples. She breathes in and breathes out slowly to regain her composure.

“Jiyoo,” Seokjin is careful not to sound too ruthless. Jiyoo is a ticking time bomb on the verge of explosion. “You didn’t think twice before going head to head with Taehyung? You know better than that.”

At that, Jiyoo shoots him a glare, “you’re always taking his side.”

“Of course,” Seokjin curls his fists, “he’s my brother.”

“And I’m going to be your wife,” she says with a lot of resignation, like she’s tired of trying to make Seokjin believe it. But Seokjin can’t bring himself to feel any amount of sympathy for her. “Why is it so hard for you to stand up for me at least once in your life?”

Seokjin clenches his jaws. It’s not that Jiyoo doesn’t know why, it’s just that she expects different results out of the same question despite refusing to change any variables.

“Because I don’t want you to be my wife.”

“Here we go again,” Jiyoo scoffs and throws her hands at her sides. “I don’t know what else to do to get it through your thick skull. But it’s happening whether you like it or not.”

Seokjin tilts his head, “surely, Song Jiyoo. Do whatever you want against my will. But then you don’t get to complain about my negligence or indifference because this is a grave you are digging for yourself. I’m just here cheering for you from the sidelines.”

“You say it like I’m the villain here,” Jiyoo sneers, “if you hadn’t been so reluctant about it, we wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

“I’ve accepted my misery,” Seokjin laughs coldly. “It’s better you accept yours too as soon as you can. You’ll be happier that way.”

Jiyoo holds her temples again, rubbing the skin there to veer away any ache making its way through. “There’s so much I have to do. I can’t do this right now. Just- just go,” she says, closing her eyes. “And make sure you get to Hyunwoo’s exhibition in time. Make an effort to dress nicely.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Sure.”

***

“Jimin-ssi was nice,” Taehyung says after dinner, examining the sketch Jeongguk made of him. He placed both of the frames side by side on the kitchen counter, and is now tracing the outlines of his own with his index. “He’s sweet and gentle like a cotton candy."

Seokjin is absentmindedly tying up the duffle bag with trash in it. “Yeah? He’s very popular with the kids.”

“I can see why,” Taehyung says quietly.

He has been incessantly talking about Park Jimin for the entire time Seokjin has been at home. He didn’t have the time to make dinner so he had asked Taehyung to order in before he came back from work. Taehyung had been so worked up over his meeting with Jiyoo that he said he walked all the way back home.

Seokjin washes his hands over the sink with his back to him, “you shouldn’t have provoked Jiyoo.”

Taehyung sighs from his chair. “I can’t believe she called me a piece of shit in front of you. Knew she was always pretending to be nice to me.”

Right. Jiyoo tried to get on Taehyung’s good side for years until she gave up. She was still all smiles when they met while Taehyung simply acted like she’s not in the room.

Seokjin taps the water off, wipes his hands dry in the towel. “I know, Taehyungie,” he turns around to face him, “did you suddenly run into her? You should’ve walked the other way if you saw her from afar.”

Still focused on the sketch, Taehyung moves his head left and right. “I didn’t see her until she called me to say she’s excited about the wedding.”

“So she was being nice?”

Taehyung looks up at him through his bangs, “you know how her brand of ‘nice’ is. I don’t want another sister.” He pauses. “Whichever kind.”

Seokjin purses his lips. “Have you talked to your parents?”

Taehyung hesitates. “Yeah, I told them. But I think they’re going to follow through with their plans anyway.”

It’s only a loud exhale Seokjin is able to get out of his mouth. If it was Taehyung’s call, then Seokjin could have talked him out of it. But aunt Eunkyung wouldn’t listen to a word Seokjin says anymore. There is nothing he can do about this now. He knows Taehyung still feels like his parents are replacing him and this is not a discussion he wants to have with him on behalf of his parents. Walking around the counter, he stands beside Taehyung, ruffling his hair and following his gaze.

“You should take it back to Paris,” Seokjin says as he reaches for his phone on the counter, thinking of sending a text to Jeongguk. “Jeongguk sure put a lot of effort into these. You should send him a thank you text too.”

Taehyung nods, his fingers back to tracing the outlines again. Seokjin texts Jeongguk’s number to Taehyung and then sends a quick message to Jeonnguk himself.

Seokjin
Jeonggukie
Thank you for the painting, hyung loves it
I can’t believe you made it overnight
You’re so talented I can’t wait for you to draw me more

Putting his phone aside again, Seokjin shoves his hands inside his pocket and looks down at the drawings, watches as Taehyung tiredly traces Jeongguk’s initials at the very bottom.

“Your painting doesn’t have his signature.”

Seokjin blinks, “hm?”

Taehyung looks up at him dumbfoundedly and Seokjin frowns. “The painting of yours,” he repeats. “It doesn’t have Jeongguk’s signature.”

“Really?”

It can be anything to be fair. Jeongguk had made it overnight, so he could have forgotten to sign it in haste. It is not that big of a deal. Seokjin’s phone buzzes with a text, but he leaves it be. He’ll check it before getting to bed.

Taehyung looks down and points at the very bottom of Seokjin’s painting, at the scribbles in faint blue. “It’s signed as ‘Agust’.” He says, “who is Agust?”

Seokjin cannot, for the life of him, figure out why that name sounds oddly familiar. He’s sure he’s heard it somewhere before but he can’t remember where. He feels like it had something to do with Jeongguk. But nothing else comes to mind. It’s surely there, hidden somewhere in the subconscious depth of his mind.

His phone buzzes with another text.

“It could be…” Seokjin trails off, confused, “Jeongguk’s other pseudonym? Yours is a sketch, mine is a painting. He could use different names for different types of art.”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung holds both of the frames upright. “These don’t look like they were made by the same person to me.”

Another text rattles through his phone and this time, Seokjin snatches it from the counter and opens it as fast as he can.

Jeonggukie
Which painting of yours, hyung?
I only made a sketch for Taehyungie hyung
I haven’t started working on yours

Seokjin stares at the words in disbelief, his fingers faintly shaking on their own accord as he types back a reply.

Seokjin
Your pseudonym isn’t Agust?

Jeongguk’s reply is immediate.

Jeonggukie
No. I told you that first time I only use my initials
Agust is Yoongi hyung’s

That first time. Seokjin remembers it now. The memory is still really vague, his brain had still been muddled with alcohol. Seokjin asking him if JK was a pseudonym and Jeongguk telling him I sort of just use my initials. Jeongguk looking suspiciously at Yoongi and calling, hey Yoon- ah, Agust-

Seokjin drops the phone on the counter as though it’s burning to the touch and takes a step back from where he has been standing. Taehyung curiously picks it up and checks what could’ve made Seokjin react like he’s seen a ghost in the middle of his kitchen.

Taehyung snorts loudly as he reads the messages. “Oh, this is cinema.”

Seokjin audibly gulps, “kindly, get out of my house.”

Taehyung covers his mouth with his hand to hide his grin, and mischievously looks back over his shoulder at Seokjin.

“Another name of love is the colour blue,” he reads out the line, “you really thought Jeongguk wrote it for you?”

Seokjin wipes his palms on his pants off the sweat that’s started to accumulate. “I didn’t think Yoongi would either.”

“Clearly, he did,” Taehyung holds the painting in Seokjin's direction. “I don’t know what it means, though, maybe you should send that thank you message to Yoongi hyung instead and ask him about it.”

Taking several deep breaths, Seokjin takes the painting from Taehyung’s hand and holds it carefully as though it is possessed. The smirk on Taehyung’s face irritates him greatly, something unsaid peeking through his barely contained silence.

Seokjin is not of the habit of making irrational assumptions. It is dangerous to believe in things that have no logical grounds. Seokjin takes Yoongi’s words at face value. There is no apparent reason why Yoongi would paint this for him and why he would title it like this.

Taehyung was right, Seokjin thinks as he restlessly paces around his own room later that night. He runs his hands through his hair, this is something he has to ask Yoongi himself.

Many swirly thoughts keep him from falling asleep late at night. Seokjin tosses, and turns like the wheels of an ATV, midnight comes and goes and well into the night, without any hopes of falling asleep anytime soon, Seokjin fishes his phone out from under his second pillow and opens Yoongi’s text window.

Seokjin
Thank you

He was not expecting a reply at this ungodly hour, but one is immediate as time. And Seokjin isn’t complaining.

Yoongi
For what

Seokjin
No reason
Just felt like saying it

Yoongi
Okay. You’re most welcome

Seokjin
You should thank me too

Yoongi
For what

Seokjin
Just because you feel like it

Yoongi
But I don’t feel like thanking you

Seokjin
Oof Mean Yoongi-aaaahh

Yoongi
Don’t you have anything better to do?
Why are you disrupting the peace of innocent citizens?

Seokjin doesn’t even realize when a toothy grin made its way through his face. He feels giggly like a toddler, fluffy like an eleventh grader who just discovered the joy of staying up late at night talking to his crush.

Seokjin
Just wondering about all the cardiovascular effects you have on me

Yoongi
Dunno what that means
Sorry I’m a liberal arts kind of person

Seokjin
Hey, no apologising to me
We can talk about arts if you want
Do you like Basquiat

Yoongi
We’re not talking about Basquiat

Seokjin
Are you not a fan

Yoongi
I like him enough

Seokjin
Who do you like the most

Yoongi
Someone who’s still alive

Seokjin
Why? What do you have against the dead

Yoongi
Nothing
Just think artists who are alive deserve more recognition and appreciation before their death
A lot of their arts sell for millions posthumously
What are they gonna do with all that money after death? Who even gets them?
Better to have them while they’re alive don’t you think

Seokjin
Of course
But I understand why a lot of them become famous after death
Two things sell the most in this world Yoongi-ah, romance and tragedy
People love a tragedy when it comes to art

Yoongi
People want artists to suffer on their behalf
Us being in pain so you people have something nice to look at and think about sad stuff like the sadistic masochists you are

Seokjin
Kind of very humanitarian, dontcha think?
How noble of you
So proud

Yoongi
We’re dying out here
Shouldn’t you have some sympathy
Or are you attracted to the concept of a starving artist?

Seokjin has to bite his lips to stop the smile from cracking his face in half before typing his next reply.

Seokjin
Only when they’re as cute as you

Seokjin holds his breath for the next reply from Yoongi. This has taken an unexpected turn. He was not expecting a reply when he texted Yoongi this late into the night. But then Yoongi did and now here he is kicking his feet under his blanket.

Several minutes later when Yoongi still doesn’t reply, Seokjin swallows his barely functioning pride and sends another text. His pride doesn’t stand a chance against Yoongi.

Seokjin
You never told me who you like

This time it only takes thirty seconds for Yoongi to text back.

Yoongi
Will you stop flirting with me if I do?

Seokjin
I’ve never flirted with you in my entire life

Yoongi
Banksy

The smile that had graced Seokjin’s face for the past half an hour suddenly drops. That name on his screen…it has been a while since he’s heard of the elusive artist. Some sixteen-ish years to be precise. Kim Namjoon was a fan of Banksy back in the day and owned a cheap miniature replica of the famous Love Is In The Air. He talked about the artist and his impact a lot. Now all these years later, knowing Yoongi is a fan too- it’s making Seokjin feel all kinds of unnamed things.

Seokjin
You do seem like someone who’d be into Banksy

Yoongi
Really?

Seokjin
Yeah. He also hates it when people call street art vandalism

Yoongi
Gosh I disliked you so much for saying that

Seokjin
Still?

Yoongi
I tend to hold grudges

Seokjin chuckles to himself at that, looking at his screen. Yoongi still doesn’t know that he figured out about his painting. This is a kind of grudge he likes. Another text comes right away.

Yoongi
You seem quite knowledgeable about him

Seokjin
An old friend of mine recommended Exit Through the Gift Shop
I inhaled the whole thing

Yoongi
Who is this friend you keep talking about?
And what do I have to do for you to introduce us?

Seokjin
Be nice to me <3

Yoongi
Guess we’ll never meet then

Sadness aches inside Seokjin’s chest, he’s not sure for what. Maybe because Yoongi will never get to meet Kim Namjoon or that Seokjin won’t meet him himself. Life has mostly been unpredictable hits after hits and he’s not sure if this is a good thing or a bad one. Min Yoongi is Min Yoongi. And Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon. These two have no visible, known connection between them except for their love for art. And Seokjin. He doesn’t know if he should call himself fortunate or unfortunate to have the privilege of knowing both of them, but at very different stages of his life.

His life’s always had a way of making a fool of itself.

Seokjin stares up at his ceiling instead of replying, the light from the street outside illuminated in patterns on his sad, sad grey walls.

Half of his heart heavy and half of it light, he closes his eyes for a second, not realizing when he falls into his dreams.

***

It’s almost like Seokjin escapes from work through the back door of the hospital and tiptoes into the parking lot, huffing out a relieved breath only when he gets to his car. He worked incessantly all day and even skipped lunch only because he wanted to clock out right before seven. It is extremely common for emergencies to occur at hospitals at any given moment. So he practically covered his face with a mask and wore a cap and fled before anyone could catch him and hand him more work. This can be considered as morally questionable, but he’s doing this for himself.

They have been texting back and forth the entire day. Which is…okay, to be precise- Seokjin sent him a million texts and maybe got two in reply. It started off with Seokjin waking up in the morning and immediately saying sorry to him for disappearing without a proper goodnight last night. To which Yoongi said that he doesn’t really care and it resulted in Seokjin calling him something along the lines of an apathetic anal canal.

It was a joke, obviously. And he knew Yoongi took it as one when he replied with his own slew of creative curses like calling him a 2H pencil. Which, Seokjin figures, had to be an A-grade insult in the street-art community.

Seokjin opens the door to his backseat and throws his bag in before opening the one to the driver’s seat and pulling his phone out right away. His heart pounds hard inside his chest for the span of the four rings it takes for Yoongi to pick up. It’s been a long day, he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it with all of his sanity intact.

“Can you please wait for like ten minutes?” Yoongi says from the other side, “It’s not even seven yet. I’m almost there. Have some patience.”

Seokjin cannot keep himself from laughing at Yoongi’s way of greeting him. Never a hello or a hi, never a how have you been. Just plain situational humiliation.

“Tell me where you are,” Seokjin speaks softly, “I’ll come pick you up.” And after a lot of grumbling, Yoongi finally gives him his precise location.

If there is anything Seokjin has learned lately, it’s that time is a nasty piece of shit. A blink, a week goes by. Two, and a year is gone just like that. It’s almost as if he cannot keep up with the speed of it anymore.

Seokjin barely had the time to register what he learned from his mother, even less what Taehyung kept telling him. Everything is left as a residue and bottled up in fancy champagne shook into a solution. He’s not feeling okay, not really. But he’s someone who has a lot of bandaids available to him at any given moment.

His relationship with this father was always hanging by a loose thread. It was never compassionate. Dr. Kim only ever wanted one thing from his son, to make him proud, to make him look good in the eyes of people who revered him. Which, Seokjin never heard his father say to him in the end. Even after following every single one of his words, even after throwing his dreams away in the trash despite it killing him from the inside- Seokjin’s father never once told him he’s proud of him. And maybe he never will.

It is still as though Seokjin is a second hand puppet he got from the fair while playing lucky darts, while others got pretty, fluffy plushies they can show off to the world. So Dr. Kim made it his life’s mission to dress Seokjin up to look like an expensive toy, the one he truly wanted. And Seokjin himself fell into the trap of trying to impress that man his entire life in spite of getting nothing in return. Never a word of appreciation, never even a look of pride when he finally received his licence after the grind.

Seokjin feels sick to his stomach now knowing exactly why.

He hasn’t been able to register any of it, almost like he’s going through the motions as someone without motion sickness. Everything is blurring past him like sceneries through the window of a bullet train, too fast to focus on one single frame.

And amidst all of it.

There is Yoongi. Who is an entirely different can of gummy worms.

Seokjin does not want Yoongi to peek into these nastier sides of his life. The one that is far from happy, giggly and perfect. One where Seokjin is not a fan of being a jokestar, where he does not feel like making people laugh for fun because he likes it.

The jovial version of him is only reserved for Min Yoongi.

“You seem happy to see me,” Seokjin parks the car right by where Yoongi has been waiting for him, lowering the window of the passenger seat before reaching out and opening the door for Yoongi with one hand. “Get in. Let me show you around the glorious city of Seoul.”

“I’ve lived in this city for half my life.” Not even a hint of a smile graces Yoongi’s face. “Besides we have business to get to and no I’m not getting inside your car. Why did you bring it?”

Seokjin ducks his head and grabs the side of the passenger’s seat to look at Yoongi standing outside. “What? How else was I supposed to get here?”

Yoongi slams the door shut. “Public transport?”

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin closes his eyes and then opens them again. His energy is dwindling. “Don’t make me come out and drag you inside. People are going to assume I’m kidnapping you.”

Yoongi takes a moment to eye Seokjin’s car from the front to the back, which makes Seokjin feel self conscious by proxy. The fuck is wrong with his car?

“No. We can’t take your car to where we’re going,” Yoongi murmurs after some time, seemingly more to himself. “You won’t recover if someone paints a dick on it.”

“Are you trying to kidnap me?” Seokjin has no idea what Yoongi is going on about.

Yoongi leans in, stops right before his head can enter the car through the window. “You got a place where you can leave your car at?”

Seokjin also leans in further over the console. “Yes I have a place where I live. Yes it comes with parking.”

At that, Yoongi suddenly beams as best as it is possible for him to. “Great,” he exclaims and then reaches out to yank the door open again before finally hopping in. “Let’s go and ditch your car first.”

“Nope,” this wouldn’t do. Seokjin kills the engine simply out of spite. “I’m not going back home.”

Yoongi looks at him then, “we can’t go where we are going in your car.”

Seokjin squints his eyes at him, “just give me the address. I’ll put it in the GPS, it’ll be fine.”

“No,” Yoongi crosses his arms.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

“You’d rather stay stuck here doing nothing for the rest of the night?”

“Yes,” Seokjin grins, reaching out to lock all the doors, which Yoongi seems to realize a little late. “I don’t mind being stuck here with you all night.”

The light from Yoongi’s face suddenly goes out, the thin sheet of quiet becomes a blanket of silence inside the small space. Yoongi looks as though he’s contemplating strangling Seokjin and running away for his body to rot until someone unlucky discovers it.

Seokjin should pull away, this is not helping either of them.

He starts the car again, a resigned exhalation escapes through his mouth as he turns the car towards the direction of his house. The journey to his home is quiet. Not like Seokjin doesn’t take it entirely upon himself to lighten up the mood, he does. He keeps trying to start a conversation and crack silly jokes. It’s Yoongi who doesn’t say much the entire way. And Seokjin knows exactly why.

Parking the car in his designated place, Seokjin makes sure it’s locked properly before he is finally free to take Yoongi in. Loose black pants, dark navy shirt and his shoulder bag clutched tightly at the strap.

“You have the funniest reactions sometimes, Yoongi.”

Yoongi looks away towards the entryway, “nothing about it was funny. I think-” he pauses his train of words.

“You think what?”

“In hindsight,” Yoongi hesitates. “I think it’s a bad idea for us to go somewhere alone.”

If Yoongi doesn’t like spending time with him then maybe he shouldn’t have offered to do this in the first place. Whatever it is going on with Jeongguk, he could simply talk about it with him.

The battered and bruised heart he’s sporting is on its deathbed. Life support. He’s used to not getting what he wants from everyone and everything else in his life. But not from this man standing in front of him. He will not make it out alive if he gets a direct rejection from Yoongi. And Seokjin can hear it galloping in his direction at lightning speed.

It’s not that Seokjin is scared or mad, he’s just so tired of not being wanted.

“Why? Afraid I’ll kiss you again?”

Maybe it’s the unintentional bite in his tone that makes Yoongi whip his head at him, eyes wide in alarm. “Hyung-”

“Sorry. Just.” Seokjin covers his face with his hands and takes a few deep breaths. He doesn’t want Yoongi to be on the receiving end of his hostility. Yoongi is the last person to deserve it. “A lot is going on. Maybe you’re right. This isn’t the right time for us to spend time alone.” A stone is added on a pile over his heart for every word he speaks. “You can leave if you want. It’s fine.”

He avoids looking directly at Yoongi, he simply does not have the heart to face the relief that he knows will be written across his face. Yoongi is probably leaping from happiness to be able to get away from him. It’s like he’s free. Seokjin adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I’ll just go home,” Seokjin says, turning away and starts for the elevator. “I’ll talk to Jeongguk to see if anything else is wrong. Don’t worry about it.”

Seokjin doesn’t wait around to hear Yoongi’s reply. It is better to leave than hearing Yoongi admitting that he does not, in fact, want to spend a single second in Seokjin’s exclusive presence. So he leaves Yoongi back in his own parking lot instead.

He doesn’t look back over his shoulder or run back, even though every single cell in his body is screaming at him to. Time is catching up to him, or he’s finally catching up to it. It’s one of those things. He wants to call his dad and shout profanities at him. He wants to see his dad and punch him hard across the fucking face.

In his empty house made of empty grey walls, it finally dawns on Seokjin how lonely he actually is. Turns out he’s not so much of a science guy, logic over emotions guy, men don’t cry guy. He’s been fooling himself for his entire life in order to save himself from heartbreak.

And it took Min Yoongi a minute to undo all of that. He wishes it was anyone else in the world. Anyone else but him.

Seokjin isn’t strong, he’s not cold hearted. He wants to be held and cuddled in bed, under the blanket on a rainy afternoon.

He avoids laying down on his bed in his outside clothes. Throwing his bag on the floor, Seokjin opens the window of his room and leans on the frame, lighting a cigarette. His phone vibrates on the bed where he threw it a second ago, Seokjin can see it’s Jiyoo who’s calling so he ignores it. There’s not much battery left either. Taking drags after drags of his cigarette, he burns through the first one fast and then lights a second one. The calls don’t stop.

Well in between his third stick, Seokjin starts pacing the room. Rubbing his eyes every once in a while to keep them from stinging. But it doesn’t work. Streams of hot, salty water do escape the bounds of his lashes. The cigarette burns in between his fingers as he wipes his face with his palms, swipes at his nose as he sniffles. He can see himself in the mirror, reflecting clearly how truly miserable he looks, how frayed at the edges he’s become. His ears, eyes, and nose- everything is red. Seokjin can’t look at himself anymore. He lets his eyes stray, wander. Until.

His gaze falls on the reflection of the painting Yoongi gave him, leaning lonely against his thick medical books on the table. The words are flipped through the mirror and blurry through his tears. But he knows the words by heart, he can emulate the curves of those letters with his eyes closed.

another name of love is the colour blue

How could he forget about this?

Seokjin stubs the half burnt cigarette in the astray and wipes his entire face dry with his sleeves. He’s upset, he’s exhausted and he’s really fucking confused at this point. After he takes certain long, deep breaths, Seokjin scrambles for his phone.

Four Missed Calls

Seokjin unlocks his phone.

Yoongi
3 Missed Calls

Like he’s suddenly been given the gift of teleportation, Seokjin finds himself in the lobby of the complex. He barely had the mind to wash his face, and his hair is run through. But his head is somewhere far, far away.

Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

The air that’s hitting his face is sharp and cold, like scratches of a knife. It smells of an impending storm. Seokjin’s clothes stick to him like a second skin by the force of it. His already messy hair going haywire. He’s out on the street frantically looking left and right. The main street is busy with traffic but no sign of the face he’s been searching for. If Yoongi has already left, then he’s probably gone away far enough that Seokjin won’t be able to find him by foot.

It’s only after twenty minutes when Kim Seokjin finds Min Yoongi again on the other side of the street.

The main avenue trickles into a smaller one that leads to a very famous street food market. It’s close enough from Seokjin’s place that he can see the lighting from his rooftop. Seokjin was frantic enough to cross the road and walk into the winding, lit street in search of Yoongi. It’s a bustling space, bright enough for Yoongi to disappear if he were a ghost. Seokjin didn’t have high hopes.

But then he sees him. Min Yoongi. Paying a young lady for two sticks of rainbow cotton candy. Yoongi shoves his wallet back in his pocket and thanks the lady. Then he takes out his phone and calls someone as he starts walking.

The phone inside Seokjin’s pocket starts ringing. He takes the phone out and cuts the call without looking, watching intently as he sees Yoongi’s downturned face staring at the empty screen as he stops walking.

He approaches Yoongi only after taking several deep breaths.

Seokjin feels like time stops the exact moment Yoongi sees him, knowing it has been happening a lot lately, as he looks up from his phone and directly at Seokjin. Almost as if Yoongi could hear his footsteps, feel his presence even amidst the cacophony of humans. It should mean something, right? Yoongi's expression is not entirely smiley. It’s cautious, upset, uncertain.

Even within earshot, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure what to say. He was the one who kissed him. He was the one who walked away. He was the one who took his frustrations out on Yoongi, who is the last person to deserve it. Yoongi is not at fault for any of what Seokjin has been feeling lately, the stabbing twang in his heart, Yoongi doesn’t even know about the engagement. His entire body feels cold all of a sudden.

Seokjin should have known, Yoongi was also trying to protect himself.

“Jeongguk sometimes drags me here because he likes street food so much,” Yoongi says, taking a quick glance back. Then he holds one of the cotton candy sticks out to him. “I got this for you. The colour reminded me of you.” Yoongi looks down shyly, not meeting his eyes. A rainbow isn’t what Seokjin would associate himself with. There should be cotton candy that comes in dark grey. “It looked cheerful. Happy. But also like a clown. Have you ever seen a clown in a circus? Jeongguk’s father once took me to one when we lived in Busan. Just the two of us because he wanted to get to know me. We both hated it so much we ended up bonding over it. Went home and told mom it was the best thing ever. The other one is for Jeongguk.”

Yoongi’s always had this innate habit of blabbering things. Like he hyperfixates. It doesn’t matter if he’s nervous or not, he just needs to hit a topic that he knows about. He’s quiet otherwise.

Seokjin takes the stick from him silently. His fingers brush Yoongi’s as he does so, a humming buzz coursing through his veins from their point of contact, one that’s better than alcohol.

Two cotton candies and none for himself.

“The weather is nice, isn’t it?” Yoongi keeps talking. “The breeze is nice, but there’s probably going to be a storm. Which sucks because water will get inside our apartment if it rains too much. I keep telling Jeongguk we need to find another place but I think the kid got too attached to that space. I told him not to when we first moved in. Most things are temporary. But he’s too young to understand what that means yet.” He laughs more to himself, scratching the back of his neck. Then bites his lip. “Speaking of, I think I should get going. You should go and rest too. You’re probably really tired.”

It’s only then that Yoongi looks up and meets Seokjin’s eyes. And it’s only then that Seokjin allows himself to speak.

“So you’re just going to leave if I ask you to?” Seokjin asks quietly sniffing. “You’re never going to stop me? Couldn’t you tell I was being a drama queen?”

It takes Yoongi a second to realize what Seokjin is talking about. His expression going from confusion to disheartened.

“I called you many times. You didn’t pick up.”

“Because I thought it was Jiyoo.”

“It didn’t cross your mind that it could be me?”

Seokjin gulps. Of course. He should’ve checked thinking Yoongi wanted him to go back. He should’ve looked back to make sure if Yoongi truly wanted him to leave.

“Hyung is sorry, Yoongi-ah.”

Dragging his shoe on the asphalt again, Yoongi tilts his head, “it’s okay, you came back.”

Seokjin is always going to. “That I did.”

“Why?”

“For you, what else?”

Yoongi’s shoulders slack. There is so much Seokjin wants to ask him. So many things he needs to get off of his chest. Yoongi is looking at him like he wasn’t expecting Seokjin to leave him just like that. He needs to make sure he never does this to Yoongi again. Seokjin would rather be the one stranded on an island alone. He’s used to it.

And there’s one other reason why Seokjin came back.

“Another name of love is the colour blue” He says, Yoongi’s eyes widen at the words. He definitely was not expecting that, he couldn’t have. “What did you mean by that?”

“Shouldn’t you ask Jeongguk?”

“But I’m asking you,” Seokjin counters, this isn’t an argument Yoongi is going to win in any way. “So what do you think it means?”

Yoongi looks down at his shoes first, getting caught, then at his side at some man selling fish breads.

“That sometimes it’s refreshing but sometimes it's cold,” Yoongi explains. “Love and loneliness are two sides of the same coin. You would want one hundred percent of someone, but you never will. It will stop at ninety-nine at max. And you will find yourself crying for that one percent. So you’re always going to feel a little lonely in love. It will feel like all shades of blue. But it’s also a beautiful colour. Soothing, peaceful just like love is. Don’t you think? Love should be about peace. You should always look for the person who puts your heart at peace. And the rest will automatically fall into place.”

Where was Yoongi all his life? Where was Yoongi when he was fourteen figuring out what he wanted to do in life? Where was Yoongi when he was running away from home every now and then? Where was he when he hadn’t met Song Jiyoo yet?

Where was this kind soul hiding in the murky chaos of the city? Where was he when Seokjin needed him the most?

It’s now, he thinks to himself. Now is probably the time.

“I just thought it’s something you needed to understand,” Yoongi continues as Seokjin struggles to form any words out of his mouth. “You’re quite shit at it.”

Seokjin takes a deep breath, “you couldn’t explain it to me? You thought it was a good idea to shove it in my hand and walk away?”

Yoongi purses his lips, “death of the artist, remember?”

This is the primary difference between Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon, Seokjin figures. Namjoon wanted the whole world to see his art, he wanted to explain his ideas to any one who would lend an ear to listen. Namjoon wanted the world to see life exactly as he sees it.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is a quiet rebellion. He drops something and disappears, leaving the rest of his audience to fend for themselves, clawing at his work like famished hyenas to figure out what he wants to say. Because Yoongi knows people will only take away what they want to believe.

It may be a basic difference between Yoongi and Namjoon, but Seokjin was foolish to think the two of them are anything alike. Maybe in ideas, but they are two completely opposite people.

What a stupid, stupid mistake. If Namjoon was the fiery rage of the burning sun, then Yoongi is the loving light of the distant moon.

Quiet. Peaceful.

Yoongi couldn’t be any older than him. If he was fourteen when Jeongguk was two. And Jeongguk is nineteen now. He’s hit thirty but isn’t too deep in the trenches yet.

“Yoongi-ah. Have you ever heard of Kim Namjoon?”

He most likely was not ready for the question to be thrown at him, a sharp turn against the flow of his words. But in Seokjin’s mind, this is the point of final breakage. Of a bridge burning to ashes. This is, ironically, his one last shot at finding him. This is where he lets him go. Seokjin waits with baited breath as Yoongi frowns deeply.

Yoongi is almost as old as him. Yoongi has lived in Seoul, this godforsaken city half of his life. Yoongi is an active member of Seoul's street art community. There is no one Seokjin knows anymore who is more likely to know what happened to Namjoon than Yoongi.

Seokjin is not sure which answer he wants; yes or no. So what if the answer is yes? Seokjin can’t leave his life and run after him. He won’t. He doesn’t want it to be. And that should be saying something. After all these years, he isn’t too keen on rekindling an old flame. Namjoon probably hated him all his life after Seokjin lied to him and left him in the trenches. It’s only for closure, he figures. He just wants to know if Namjoon has made it or not.

The light is punched out of his chest the moment Yoongi moves his head left and right.

A few moments pass where he’s not sure he’s breathing, the palpitations rise and then fall drastically, crashing like waves on a shore in a tempest.

This is it. This is finally it.

“I don’t know any Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi tilts his head. “Who is he?”

A very good question, the answer to which requires him to take a one-to-one history lesson with Yoongi. And he will. Seokjin promises to himself. But first.

“You should keep the cotton candy for yourself,” Seokjin says, reaching out and taking a hold of Yoongi’s free wrist. “I’ll get Jeongguk another one. Now let’s go where you wanted to take me before. You wanted to show me something somewhere I couldn’t take my car to. Plan’s back on.”

A sudden weight is lifted off of his chest, as Yoongi walks behind him as he pulls. With no resistance or rebellion. Seokjin holds him tightly, afraid that Yoongi will disappear again. Vanish from his life.

Every sense in his mind has melted at the warmth of Yoongi’s skin. The pulse points on Yoongi’s wrist drumming a frantic rhythm on Seokjin’s fingers.

This is a terrible idea, Seokjin knows, diving head first with Yoongi against his better judgement, against the flow of his life. It always has been. But what has life ever given him except hardship, misery and misfortune? It’s about time Seokjin starts biting back.

So screw all of that.

Chapter Text

The universe gets a good giggle out of testing Kim Seokjin’s level of patience.

He tries not to invade Yoongi’s personal space inside the subway train, he really does. But the cramped space in between strangers is proving it to be so harrowingly difficult that at one point it’s Yoongi who ends up reaching out and grabbing onto Seokjin’s hanging arms instead of the grabhandles he cannot reach from a distance.

At the very least, Seokjin tries to be subtle about it, clearing his throat as quietly as possible, looking over the bald, curly, colourful heads of people he’s never met before and never going to again in a show of complete nonchalance. As if the warmth of Yoongi’s palms is not penetrating the fabric of his shirt and burning his skin. He cannot absolutely feel his knees quivering. Because they’re not. Totally not.

In his defense, Seokjin did offer to take his precious, expensive car to wherever Yoongi is taking him to. He is so not a fan of the rush hour and being in close proximity to Yoongi does him more damage than good. His car at least spared him the space. The train at this hour, on the other hand, is ruthless.

Seokjin tries to stay as quiet as Yoongi is, however, his resolve truly breaks when the train stops at the next station and the inertia throws Yoongi right into Seokjin’s chest, who groans in frustration.

“On second thought, maybe taking your car would’ve been a better option,” Yoongi carefully says as Seokjin helps him back in his previous position, which is, well, grabbing onto his arms again. Seokjin tightens his grip on the circlet overhead.

They barely get the scope to breathe as a large portion of the people file out of the train, and another slew of people file inside and cram the space again. Making Yoongi shuffle even closer to Seokjin.

“I don’t know,” Seokjin hums as he repositions until Yoongi’s body fits between a stranger’s back and Seokjin’s chest like a perfect tetris block. Their bodies flush. This way it’s even more torturous, because now the tip of Yoongi’s nose is a centimeter away from his Adam's apple. Seokjin thinks he shivers a little when Yoongi’s breath fan over his collarbones. “You do have the most convenient of ideas in that pretty head of yours. I quite like the outcome. Very much actually. It’s perfect that you’re getting all up in my feels. I was not familiar with your game, Yoongi-ah.”

Things get worse when Yoongi lowers his head, because now the air of his breath reaches down to the skin of his chest. “You do not have any redeemable qualities, do you?” he asks quietly enough only for Seokjin to hear. Which he does, that low rumbling deep voice, god he does. Yoongi’s speaking right into all of his internal, external, anterior jugular veins, heating up every single one of his blood cells. “Have you always been an insufferable pervert or is it a recent development because of the forced celibacy?”

It is honestly the worst question Yoongi could’ve asked with only their clothes being in between their…reproductive organs. Yoongi is still holding his arm as a grabhandle, his other hand unknowingly bunching Seokjin’s shirt to keep himself steady. The top of Yoongi’s head is under his chin. In the face of his thirst, Seokjin swallows his own saliva like the indomitable soldier that he is.

His own breath is shaky. “It’s an innate human instinct. I can’t help it.”

“We’re in public surrounded by so many people-”

“And I’m only reacting to you.”

Even in their position, Yoongi’s long-held sigh is inevitably heard. “Was it really the time?”

Seokjin’s eyes meet some strange man’s gaze several heads away, who gives him a questioning look before a ping in his phone draws his attention back. Yoongi’s grip on his arm tightens.

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin looks up at the grey ceiling in desperation, tries to focus on the manual written on the yellow sticker. Anything to divert his mind, really. “Are you saying there is an appropriate situation and time where this is acceptable?”

“Sure. But not with me.”

Seokjin is tickling, he’s tickling all over his damn body. “You really are the worst crush I’ve ever had.”

At that, Yoongi suddenly snorts. The vibration sends a chill down his spine. “The worst crush for which you’re sporting the biggest fucking bo-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Seokjin cuts him off, gritting his teeth. “Do not pay attention to me. Do not even dare say the F word again.”

Yoongi tries to hide his face at the bend of Seokjin’s elbow, which Seokjin cannot even move anymore. He thinks Yoongi probably would’ve fallen on the floor giggling if it weren’t for the position they are in.

Closing his eyes and clearing his throat, Seokjin tries to think of boring things again. But closing his eyes only heightens his sensations and he can feel Yoongi pressing all up against him even more intensely. And it doesn’t help at all.

Seokjin sighs, “this was all your fault, Yoongi-ah, now make it go away.”

In an attempt to put an end to his laughs, Yoongi straightens up again, with his hair now tickling Seokjin’s neck. The universe really is testing his patience.

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Say some really unsexy things. Quick.”

Yoongi doesn’t even miss a single beat.

“The Great Wall of China is 21196.18 kilometres in length.” Yoongi says quietly in his deep voice. “It took over 2000 years to build the wall and was kickstarted when the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, connected the extending walls to strengthen border defense in 220 B.C. To bind the brick walls, glutinous rice mortar was used because it’s much stronger than ordinary lime mortar. It has fifteen passes that are geographically significant-”

“What the fuck, Yoongi-ah, I said unsexy things.”

Seokjin looks down when Yoongi looks up to send him an unimpressed look. “What? The Great Wall of China is turning you on?”

Moving his head left and right, Seokjin takes a mental note to never look up The Great Wall of China ever again. “Only because you’re talking about it.”

Even if it feels like Seokjin has escalated his not-flirting up a notch, he pays no heed to that regard. Screw it all, fuck everything. For all the moments he spends with Yoongi, he wants to stop giving a shit to anything else going on in his life. If he pretends this is a night in paradise, then it will be. Fake it till you make it or some shit.

The boner is a different story. That’s on him.

By the time they reach their designated station, Yoongi brings up fourteen different topics he deems would be unsexy to Seokjin. Lists of all the presidents of the US, the conspiracy theories surrounding the moon landing, the historical significance of the pyramids in Egypt, the French revolution, postmodern literature, contemporary art.

In the end, it works. Not because Seokjin deems them unsexy coming from Yoongi. But because it all makes Seokjin laugh at the level of enthusiasm Yoongi talks about them with. Wide eyes and all. It’s like Seokjin was successful in turning the light switch in Yoongi’s brain on and now he’s reaping the benefits.

And laughing about artists sticking a banana to a wall in the name of art works better than thinking about Yoongi in his bed.

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t talk about it again as they file out themselves.

Seokjin follows Yoongi out of the station and right into the night. Yoongi looks back over his shoulder every now and then, making sure Seokjin hasn’t lost him just yet. The streets in this area of the city are steep, uphill and narrow. Seokjin has never been around here before so Yoongi’s steps are the only map he knows how to follow.

“This is part of what’s called the Moon Villages of Seoul,” Yoongi suddenly speaks up out of nowhere, looking back over his shoulder again. “Do you know why?”

Seokjin shakes his head, looking around and wondering. “No. I’ve never been here before.”

Yoongi’s laugh matches the twinkles of windchimes on a hot summer day, in the night, it sounds enchanting as though he’s a modern day pied piper luring Seokjin towards his doom.

“Of course not, this isn’t a rich people place,” Yoongi says in between his chimes, walking around the winding streets like he knows them like the back of his hands. “We used to live here when we first moved to Seoul. Jeongguk grew up in this neighbourhood.”

Yoongi stops in the middle of a street right beside a huge cluster of one-story houses. Most of them on the edges look abandoned with about a couple of hundreds still looking like they are in barely liveable condition. It is a striking view, against the posh skyscrapers of Seoul looming right in the background, sparkling like stars in the city. The wealth gap is evident. Seokjin isn’t quite sure why Yoongi brought him here in the first place. But he can’t say he’s not feeling a little ticklish at the thought of Yoongi showing him bits and pieces of his own history.

“This part of the city is higher up than the rest, we’re basically standing on a hillside street,” Yoongi says again, prompting Seokjin to look up at him. “The height gives its people a better view of the moon than the rest of the city. That’s where the name came from. If you come here on a full moon night, you’ll understand what I mean.”

Seokjin absorbs the information, tucks it away in his pocket for the time being. He feels like he’s in some kind of a daze, like this is not a real place in a real moment. Yoongi could pinch him right now and wake him up from a dream.

“So, are you a moon person?” Seokjin blurts out before he even thinks anything through simply because it makes so much sense.

The frown in Yoongi’s face is evident. “A what?”

“A moon person, because you’re so serene and peaceful and luminous,” Seokjin says, inhaling the cold breeze. It’s a surprise that it hasn’t started raining yet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you’re a cut-out piece of the moon itself. No wonder I mistook you for a ghost when we met for the first time.”

Yoongi blinks, maybe contemplating whether he should make a run for it now. “Are you drunk?”

“I’ve only had the cotton candy.”

“You say crazy things sometimes. That’s really not possible.” Yoongi says after a while, his momentarily stern expression gives out without much fight. “But living here with Jeongguk for so long may have had some influence. I have a distinct style of art where I like to paint in hazy details. It’s reminiscent of my time here, probably, I spent a lot of time running around the streets painting on empty walls with Jeongguk. In soft, low moonlight.”

Seokjin gets it, somehow, thinking back on his painting. Something in the way Yoongi speaks has always enamoured him to a great degree. It’s why he’s here in the first place. But it still feels quite unreal to him still. Like he’s a ghost. It feels as though his mind has been split into two. One, he left back in his house crying over how everything is going to shit. The other, this one, in front of Yoongi. At peace.

He’s not used to this, not really. He’s used to having all of his guards up all the time. But with Yoongi, he feels as though none of that actually matters. As though he could confess to a murder and Yoongi would simply laugh it off. It’s a little addictive. This easy part of his life with Min Yoongi.

“Seokjin hyung.” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the depth of the night. Pre-rain soil smell penetrating his consciousness.

“Mm? Yeah?”

“We’re here for Jeongguk.”

“I know.”

“But you keep staring at me.”

Seokjin sniffs the cold air. “I’m using my eyes to its greatest potential. You shouldn’t have a problem with that.”

“But I do.”

Seokjin tilts his head in confusion.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to start having thoughts too.” Yoongi chuckles as he says it, lighthearted, which surprises Seokjin. He takes a deep breath, his mouth slowly hanging open. “And I don’t want to. Because you have a girlfriend you’re going to get married to soon. So I don’t think any of this is ideal for any of us, don’t you think so?”

It’s not the thought of marrying Jiyoo that makes Seokjin’s vision shift like he’s on a downride of a rollercoaster, not at all. That reality is something Seokjin had come to terms with a long time ago. But it’s what Yoongi said about himself; he’s going to start having thoughts too. There is an imminent storm outside. But a much more vicious one is brewing in the clouds of his mind.

“None of this was ideal from the start, drunk as I was,” Seokjin mutters only loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “I think I wanted you from our very first conversation. You saw how fast I reacted to you on the train. It doesn’t happen often and I’m not sorry that it did. It was an honest reaction to how I feel about you. And it’s not just physical.”

Seokjin watches carefully as Yoongi curls his fists for a fast moment before he wipes his palms on his pants.

“I’m willing to let you live it down.” Yoongi says, carefully, keeping his voice and tone levelled. “No one will know. And I’m talking about this entire…thing. I can keep it a secret. You can trust me, hyung.”

Seokjin blinks fast. That’s not what he wants. He wants so much more from Yoongi. The entire thing. He doesn’t want to forget about any of it. Seokjin doesn’t want Yoongi to look at him like the kiss didn’t set all of his blood cells on fire at the top of the stairs in front of Yoongi’s little home. Like it didn’t mean the world to Seokjin.

Besides, it’s far beyond no one knowing anymore. Taehyung knows it. His mother suspects it. And so does Jiyoo.

He’s not sure why, but Seokjin has this inkling feeling that maybe he’s running out of time. For what, he doesn’t know.

Or, no, that’s not true. He does. Maybe some signs on papers hold more weight than he thought they did. His breath hitches and his throat constricts thinking how signing some documents will make a worse hell out of his already miserable life.

And it feels worse because he’s making this decision on his own.

Seokjin fists his hands.

Yoongi breaks their eye contact in favour of turning around to walk the other way. “Come on, we-”

“I’m getting engaged to Jiyoo in a week.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks ramrod straight, his nails digging into his palms. Seokjin can’t see his face so he can’t say for sure how Yoongi takes the news.

“Congratulations.” Yoongi replies after some agonizing seconds pass by. “I’m very happy for you, hyung.”

Seokjin rubs his nose. “Yoongi-ah, look at me.”

And Yoongi does without any protest, from a couple of steps ahead in a neighbourhood he knows too well. His face is passive, barring a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Seokjin can tell, he’s an expert at it himself.

“Engagement’s in a week,” Seokjin continues looking straight into Yoongi’s captivating eyes, “the wedding preparations will start right after. We don’t have a date yet but knowing Jiyoo she wouldn’t want to wait for too long even if she has to half-heart it. Maybe a month at most. Please, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi doesn’t have a strong reaction to any of what Seokjin is saying, he never had strong reactions to anything at all. Except for when it comes to Jeongguk. Yoongi must know what time Seokjin is talking about, what time he’s running out of. And still.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, hyung,” Yoongi’s voice is still very soft and soothing. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I just want to be honest with you.” Seokjin takes a deep breath, his own hands feel clammy. “Because I need you to stay in my life even after I get married.”

The implication of what it means hangs heavy in the air between their spaces. Seokjin has always been shameless with him, but even he knows this is beyond unfair to Yoongi. Even if Seokjin marries Song Jiyoo, he knows he will always keep going back to Yoongi in every sense of the word. He’ll find himself at his doorstep, most likely smoking a cigarette waiting for Yoongi to come out. He doesn’t care about Jiyoo, he never did. But Yoongi is someone he does not want to hurt in any capacity ever again.

“How about we cross that bridge when we get there?” is what Yoongi says out of everything, “I’d rather not worry about a future I’m not sure I’ll be in.”

Getting on his knees in front of Yoongi is the one thing that’s left for him to do. Begging him is the other. This is not a direct rejection, but this also is a far cry from any hopeful future.

“You don’t have to worry about the future, let me handle that,” Seokjin isn’t sure where he finds the strength to get the words out. “But you should know that I don’t want to marry her, let alone start a family. I despise her so much. I don’t love Jiyoo, Yoongi-ah, I never did. I want you to know that. Really know that.”

When Yoongi opens his mouth to answer, his lips quiver. “Hyung.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“Are you in love with me?”

Seokjin doesn’t know what that is, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be loved back either. It has been a really long time since he’s last felt the tickles of love, the bloom of its blush-roses. He had a lot to give, at some point in time, but nowhere to give it to. He searched for a respite constantly without a result until it all piled up and calcified itself, making him think he’s strong enough to withhold his own downfall. So no, he doesn’t know love, not anymore, he’s forgotten how he used to define it.

But he knows humanity, he knows perseverance, and he knows why people pray in times of despair and desperation.

“Something like that. Because god, Yoongi, I studied the functions of the human lungs very thoroughly but somehow I find it easier to breathe only when you’re with me.”

Yoongi’s gasp is soft but certain. Seokjin can see Yoongi’s nails digging more into his palm. The words hang in between them without any answer from him and Seokjin thinks he’s about to go mad in the relative silence. He wants to scream his lungs out, not knowing what Yoongi is thinking at the moment.

In the end, Seokjin gives in and reaches out. He finds Yoongi’s hand quietly, unraveling his fist and entwining his fingers with his own. Testing the waters. Yoongi doesn’t shy away, even though Seokjin can evidently feel Yoongi’s fingers trembling against his own. In fact, he leans into Seokjin’s touch for a second. So Seokjin holds them tight. Something akin to relief washes over him when Yoongi holds his hand back just as firmly.

“Don’t do that again. Your hands will start bleeding if you press your nails so hard into them.” Chuckling lightly, Seokjin finally breaks the silence himself, seeing no other way. He engulfs Yoongi’s hand with both of his, smooths his thumb where his nails dug in.

Yoongi’s gaze is palpitating as if he’s frantically looking for something in Seokjin’s face. “You're a doctor. I’m sure you can treat it just fine. You saved my life once so this should be child’s play for you. I never told Jeongguk, you know? This is the first time I’m keeping a secret from him and it’s killing me to say the least. But I don’t know how to tell him. Jeongguk didn’t grow up seeing our parents slowly falling in love, but I did. So I may not care. But he does. He knows about Jiyoo-ssi, you know that right? He once told me it’s a shame you have a girlfriend because he thinks we’d be good together. But this…this isn’t it. You know that too right, hyung?”

There he goes speaking a mile a minute again. But this time it’s the nerves talking, Seokjin can tell. In lieu of an answer, Seokjin nods very slightly before closing his eyes as he brings Yoongi’s hand up to his face. He holds Yoongi’s fingers with one hand, while wraps his other hands around Yoongi’s wrist, holding it like a crest.

And then Seokjin presses his lips right on the base of his palm, on the indentations of his nails in the shape of a half-moon.

He parts before pressing his palm again, now peppering tiny kisses along the warm skin of Yoongi’s wrist. Stopping right on his pulse point where he can feel Yoongi’s heart rate picking up its pace against his lips.

Yoongi isn’t fooling anyone.

Seokjin opens his eyes with his lips still on his wrist, looks straight at Yoongi staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Easy there,” Seokjin asks as he drops their hands, but not before interlacing their fingers again. “Feel better now.”

“Better isn’t a word I’d use to describe how I’m feeling, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is only above a whisper. He’s surprised he can even make the words out.

But Seokjin chuckles nonetheless, looking down at their feet and touching the tip of his shoe to Yoongi’s. Then he reaches out to fit his free hand into Yoongi’s other one as well, bringing them both up to his lips. Pressing his lips on Yoongi’s knuckles, kissing them long and deep and without a care in his goddamn world.

Seokjin parts his lips, but doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hands. He swings them to the side and pulls Yoongi a step closer to him. Then another. Until their toe to toe, nose to nose. Until Seokjin can lean his forehead against Yoongi’s. Yoongi isn’t smiling but Seokjin faces zero reluctance. Seokjin inhales when he hears the sharp intake of Yoongi’s breath.

“How about now?” Seokjin only has to murmur for Yoongi to hear him.

Yoongi’s voice is barely audible anymore, “this is…hyung.”

Seokjin’s hands seem to have a mind of their own, trailing up Yoongi’s arms and resting at the sides of his neck. He presses in, pulling Yoongi even closer by his neck until his nose slots perfectly against Yoongi’s own.

“If you keep calling me hyung like that, we’re going to have a problem real soon.”

Yoongi reaches up and curls his fingers around Seokjin’s wrists. But he doesn’t pry them away, Yoongi never does. Not even when Seokjin kissed him back at the rooftop.

“What do you suggest I do then?” Yoongi’s breath hits his face so close, it’s getting harder and harder to stand still. There isn’t much Seokjin can do to hold himself back. He’s already at the point of no return.

“I don’t know, Yoongi.” Seokjin confesses, with only a hair’s breadth away from Yoongi’s lips. “What do I have to do to take you home tonight?”

Yoongi heaves out, “yah, Seokjin hyun-”

Against Seokjin’s own, Yoongi’s lips are chapped like dry paint, but he tastes as sweet as the rainbow coloured cotton candy they had before boarding the train. It is addictive, this sweet trace left in Yoongi’s mouth. Seokjin licks it all up like a sugar-starved animal.

In his defense, Seokjin tries to be softer with him so as to not scare him away. But a moan leaves his mouth the moment Yoongi pushes forward and presses his entire body flush against him. It is Yoongi who nips Seokjin’s bottom lip first and makes Seokjin retaliate by shoving his tongue inside Yoongi’s mouth. It is Yoongi who reaches up and wraps his arms around Seokjin’s neck and pulls him closer until Seokjin trails his hands down his body only to dig his fingers in Yoongi’s waist.

Seokjin finds that Yoongi’s lips, bitten to beet red, slots perfectly against his own. Yoongi’s barely contained moans and heavy breaths fall on his ears like tunes of a songbird. It is quite scandalous that they’re standing on an open street and Seokjin is starting to tick a little down there. But that’s not something he has the mind to pay any heed to.

All Seokjin is thinking is that he’s kissing Yoongi under the night sky, flushed a shy red with nimbus clouds like Yoongi does when he’s embarrassed. Against the city lights from a higher vantage point. Again.

He has thought about kissing those lips again in every waking moment and every second he spent dreaming since the first time.

Seokjin slides his hand around his body, trailing it up on Yoongi’s back. He parts when Yoongi chokes on a sharp bite on his lip in favour of latching his mouth on the skin under Yoongi’s ear. In his arms, with his mouth left open, Yoongi shivers a little.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hyung.” Yoongi’s voice comes out raspy like he just woke up from a deep sleep.

Seokjin nips on the skin on his neck, whispers, “come home with me and hyung will. I promise.”

Seokjin feels Yoongi’s hand retreating first, but he’s too gone in the moment to think anything of it. Then Yoongi’s fingers slowly tangle with the hair on his nape. And before Seokjin knows it, he’s being pried away from Yoongi.

He surges forward in a last ditch attempt at reclaiming his settlement on Yoongi’s raw, salty skin. But Yoongi’s hold on his hair is firm and the best Yoongi lets him do is press their foreheads together.

Yoongi is panting hard, gasping for oxygen. And Seokjin’s own lungs are in a critical condition, heaving that familiar feeling of running a marathon. Yoongi’s lips are red and wet with Seokjin’s saliva rolling down his chin. Seokjin licks it off before Yoongi pulls him back in position again.

It feels like forever until Yoongi seems to level his breathing and gather his thoughts. “If you hit your head hard enough on the ground there is a possibility you can induce amnesia. Isn’t that right, Seokjin-ssi?”

And that fucking stings.

This time, Seokjin doesn’t care about subtlety and grabs Yoongi’s face harshly as he catches him off guard in a bruising kiss. Yoongi gasps, but he still doesn’t push him away. For some lovely seconds, Yoongi kisses him back with just as much enthusiasm. And then he quietly slows the motion down, making Seokjin match his pace until the kiss starts fading away.

When Yoongi finally parts, cold air hits his face like a sharp knife.

“Fuck you, Yoongi.” Seokjin could be imagining it, but he thinks he sees a ghost of a smile on Yoongi’s lips, he can almost feel it against his own.

“That is the most vulgar language you’ve ever used on me.”

“I must,” Seokjin breathes in, “since slow romance doesn’t work on you.”

Pressing on his chest, Yoongi pushes a little. When Seokjin doesn’t budge, he pushes harder. Seokjin stumbles a step backwards, severing any and every point of contact with Yoongi.

“Calm down,” Yoongi says, backing up himself. “Please just calm down.”

Seokjin wipes at the back of his neck, then smoothing down the hair Yoongi so faithfully messed up. “That is going to be an issue. You’re exceptionally good at riling me up.”

Yoongi rubs his nose with the back of his hand, clearly forcing himself to maintain his stern countenance. “Lies and slander. I’m good at no such thing.”

As Yoongi walks backwards, Seokjin follows his steps facing him. “You should be grateful to whichever god you pray to that we’re outside right now.”

The intonation in which Seokjin says this is a lot more than a little suggestive. And it seems to surprise Yoongi to a great degree. He coughs into his fisted hands.

“You’re being very bold tonight,” Yoongi muses. “What’s gotten into you?”

Seokjin gives him a lopsided smile and points at him. “You.”

“Oh my god.”

Yoongi spins around on his heels and quickens his pace, storming through the quiet winding streets of the moon village. It leaves Seokjin laughing to himself, seeing Yoongi so flustered at something he said. It’s fun, teasing Yoongi and seeing the impression of an almost-smile on the subtle crevices of his face.

“Yoongi-ah!” Seokjin calls out in the middle of his laughs, speeding up as well.

“I don’t fucking know you!” Yoongi calls back over his shoulder.

“You can’t just leave me here. I’ll get lost!”

“You deserve to get lost!”

Shaking his head, Seokjin starts jogging uphill after Yoongi and catches up with him in no time. He tries to wrap his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder, but Yoongi grabs his arm and unwraps himself immediately. And Seokjin lets it go.

They walk in silence for some time, Seokjin doesn’t know where. He’s simply following Yoongi like a lost puppy. At this point, Yoongi could lead him through the gates of hell and Seokjin will walk in without a question. Yoongi does have that effect on him.

“So,” Seokjin breaks the silence first. “You wanted to tell me something about Jeongguk?”

Yoongi gives him a sideway glance. “Glad to see the horny spirit that had possessed you left your body and you regained your memory of the true purpose of why we came here in the first place.”

“It’s a holy spirit.” Seokjin teases.

“No but honestly,” Yoongi stops abruptly, Seokjin has to turn back around to face him. “Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

“There’s not a-”

“Please don’t deflect, Seokjin hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is laced with desperation at this point. “You just- we just…kissed. Again. It was bad enough the first time when something clearly happened between you and Jiyoo-ssi. And now one minute you tell me you’re getting engaged to her and the next you’re kissing me like that, wanting to take me home.” He rubs a hand down his face. “I hope you understand why I have the right to be curious about what’s gone wrong.”

If Seokjin starts listing everything that’s gone wrong in his life, the entire night will pass away in the blink of an eye. Besides, he’s not sure where to even start from. Which problem to choose first.

So instead, he extends his hand in Yoongi’s direction. “This doesn’t feel wrong.”

Yoongi takes one look at his hand before screwing his eyes shut. “Hyung.”

“It’s a long story,” Seokjin keeps his voice calm and collected. “A Victorian soap opera. There are a lot of twists and turns.” Seokjin smiles when Yoongi opens his eyes to look at him. “You once told me that everything that happens in your life is connected. That everything happens for a reason and it all leads to where we are standing right now. And I believe you, Yoongi. I really do. But if you want me to recall all the things that brought me here standing in front of you tonight being who I am, then I need you to hold my hand through it. I can’t do it otherwise.”

It’s almost as though Seokjin can hear the gears shift in Yoongi’s pretty head. He’s shoulder is breathing with him as he refuses to break eye contact.

“You’ve always been insufferable,” Yoongi breathes out, eyeing Seokjin’s raised hand carefully.

This time, Seokjin does not reach out himself. He waits, gives Yoongi all the time he needs to close the distance. There is a part of his brain that’s freaking out that maybe, Yoongi will leave him hanging. That maybe, Yoongi will have had enough and bypass him instead of meeting him halfway.

Relief is the first thing that brims out of his damaged lungs when Yoongi slowly raises his trembling hand and slots it perfectly in Seokjin’s. Elation is the second. Seokjin tightens his grip on his hand, never wants to let him go.

“I hope you find soap operas entertaining,” Seokjin tilts his head, grinning like an idiot.

Yoongi inhales one last time before he starts walking, Seokjin swings their connected hands. “Is it really that bad?”

Seokjin nods, “let me tell you why I always had a penchant for running away from home-”

***

The small bench they’re waiting their turn at in front of the very tiny, shabby looking place that was at some point someone’s living room prior to becoming the family restaurant that it is now- creaks when Seokjin tries to shift into a more comfortable position.

He had just explained his last conversation with his mother to Yoongi when his stomach started growling non-stop. Although Seokjin tried to be as concise as possible while still giving him enough details, he found out that when not provoked, Yoongi is an attentive listener. He nods and hums and offers his insights in all the right places, he connects all the dots by himself easily. A little too easily.

“And you don’t think there’s any truth to what she said?” Yoongi asks, as Seokjin traces the lifeline on Yoongi’s palm. “Mother’s are usually right about these things.”

Seokjin stares down, the one single string of fairy lights tries its best to offer good vision.

“I’ve always chosen to believe the apple fell far from the tree,” Seokjin replies after a while. His mother wasn’t wrong, neither was Taehyung. Seokjin had his head stuck inside the sands of sahara to notice he was self sabotaging.

“If her words stung so bad, maybe it didn’t fall that far afterall.” Yoongi huffs, ever the brutally honest man. Truth be told, Seokjin knows he’s right. “Maybe you can break the cycle. When you have your own kids you can be a good father to them.”

The words coming from Yoongi stings more than his mother’s did, the way Yoongi says them without any concerns to Seokjin’s mental wellbeing. Continuous shivers run through his veins, goosebumps erupting all over. Regulating his breathing first, Seokjin ends up laughing without any real humour in it.

“What kids, Yoongi-ah?”

Yoongi’s hand is limp on his thigh. “Of your own?”

“I raised Taehyungie on my back,” his smile is pursed. “I think I’ve had enough of raising kids to last me a lifetime.”

“No more?” Yoongi asks calmly. But the rumble all around cuts through that calm.

“Not with Jiyoo.”

“With Kim Namjoon then?”

“Namjoon isn’t someone I’m in love with anymore.” This time, Seokjin laughs a real laugh at him, looking at his side to catch a glimpse of a small smile at the corner of Yoongi’s lips. “You learned about Namjoon twenty minutes ago and suddenly you can’t stop talking about him?”

Yoongi shrugs, “we have a lot in common. He sounds like someone I’d get along with.” Then he looks at Seokjin’s hunched over frame. “More than I get along with you.”

Seokjin curls his bottom lip, pretending to be upset. “But you don’t get along with me at all.” Yoongi rolls his eyes without any true contempt and it makes Seokjin chuckle again. He’s laughed more in the last hour than he did in the past six months. Yoongi is a pleasant companion, and an even better conversationalist. But Seokjin knew that the very first time they met.

His laugh slows down to a tickling sensation in his stomach when Yoongi curls his fingers and traps Seokjin’s hand in his. It’s so easy with Yoongi because he can bask in the silence as Yoongi lets his actions speak.

And it feels like he’s kind of…like…as though…Jeongguk was right.

Min Yoongi is not the resentful man he pretends to be most times. Because a bit of the gold dust seeps out of the crack of his tough exterior in moments like this. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach at the thought that things could have been so much different between them if they weren’t who they were, if Yoongi had been the one who he’d met in medical school, if Yoongi had been the one who he would get the important notes from instead of his sorry excuse of a fiance.

And if Yoongi had been the one he’d run into instead of Kim Namjoon.

“So,” it’s Yoongi who clears his throat and brings Seokjin out of his reverie. “No children of your own?”

Seokjin sandwiches Yoongi’s hand between two of his, smoothes his palm in the back of Yoongi’s. Then he looks up at him, the shy blush sprinkled on his soft face against the dim gold.

“No, Yoongi-ah,” he drawls his name, “none of my own.”

He watches in surprise as Yoongi raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you sure? Babies are super cute.”

Seokjin shakes his head in determination as Yoongi hums and nods. “What about you? Want to have your own?”

Yoongi’s shoulders slump as he sits back and lays his entire weight on the wall behind them. Then he smiles and looks at Seokjin.

“Jeongguk is my own.” Yoongi says with the fondest look on his face. “He’s still my kid. I’m still raising him.”

The funniest and the ugliest sour feeling whirls up in Seokjin at that, unsure where it came from. If Seokjin met Yoongi sixteen or seventeen years ago, he’d have seen Jeongguk as a tiny toddler just learning how to talk. Yoongi probably moved to Seoul by then and he could have been there for the two of them from the start.

Seokjin could have met Yoongi as a teenager and helped him raise Jeongguk.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this, swirling in this nasty storm of regret for a life he never lived, for what could have been’s. Seokjin tightens his grip.

“You’ve raised him well,” Seokjin says in the end. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” Yoongi’s smile only grows bigger. “Jeongguk likes you a lot, you know. He’s still too young to see through the dirtier truths of life. His heart is too tender and loving and I’ve tried my best to give him a good life. And I like who he’s turning out to be.” Yoongi pauses then, his voice dropping a few octaves. “But I just can’t help but blame myself for what happened to him.”

“Hey,” Seokjin straightens up, their shoulders brushing now. “It can happen to anyone. This isn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you wouldn’t do anything to harm him. Besides,” Seokjin pauses for a second, “you have me. Jeongguk has me. I told you to not worry about it because I’ll take care of everything. This is my responsibility now.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment too long, his long breathing evident in the rhythm on his neck. “Rich people aren’t usually this nice. What did they feed you at birth?”

“Anything but love and affection.” This time, Seokjin also lays his weight on the wall at his back, laughing out loud.

“Every doctor I’ve ever met before has always been a bit more cruel than I had expected,” Yoongi explains. “Do you know how bad of a reputation you guys have amongst the general public? Especially to people like us who you’d take one look at and can tell we don’t come from money. In a profession like this, people would expect doctors to be kind, compassionate and empathetic. I’m not saying there aren’t good doctors, because there definitely are. But it’s mostly the exact opposite for us.”

Seokjin understands exactly what Yoongi is talking about. He is a part of the industry, so if there is anyone who can vouch for Yoongi’s contempt at his profession, it’s him.

“There is something you need to understand about us, Yoongi,” he says, trying to explain it as best as he can. “People don’t choose this line of work only because they’re kind and they want to serve humanity and make lives easier. A huge chunk of them are narcissistic assholes who only aim for the money and status this tag provides because it validates their delusion of being better than the next person in line. Take Jiyoo for example.”

Yoongi breathes out a laugh, “wonderful lady.”

Seokjin shakes his head, “she couldn’t care less about her patients. There is no compassion in her, never was. And the system we go through to become a licensed practitioner sucks out the little empathy we have in us. To some level it is required to survive because if we connected to the pain and suffering of every patient we ever treated, imagine what that’d do to our own psyche? It’s a slippery slope.”

“So you just close yourselves off to people in pain?” Yoongi counters, “stripping yourselves off of the very humanity you swore to save and protect?”

“It depends on who you ask and how they choose to cope,” Seokjin swipes his thumb across Yoongi’s hand. “There is a reason why a high percentage of doctors are smokers and alcoholics despite best knowing the repercussions of such habits.”

“Like you.”

Seokjin nods, “like me.”

“Then how are you so different from them?” Yoongi wonders, “you are insufferable, that is true. But you’re not…you’re not a bad person. I see you and I think, of course this is what you do for a living. I’ve told you before, it suits you.”

Seokjin shrugs, not sure how to answer that. He is no saint, but he’d be lying if he said Yoongi’s words didn’t unlock a giddy feeling in his brain. “Don’t know. Like I’ve said, I never wanted to become a doctor in the first place.”

“Right, that’s probably why you’re a good one,” Yoongi purses his lips, looks around. “But with you, I think I’d have said the same thing if you ended up becoming an actor.”

Seokjin squints his eyes but a smile cracks his face in half either way. “Really now?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi is avoiding making eye contact with him. Quietly murmurs, “you kinda look like one.”

He has spent countless sleepless nights wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t returned home. He was out of money and couldn’t pay the tuition for his performance arts degree. Only for a short amount of time he sang in a restaurant owned by someone he vaguely knew who still hasn’t paid his full salary after all these years. But now he wonders what could have happened if the timeline was different. If Seokjin had met Yoongi and Jeongguk instead, would he have made the same regretful decisions?

“What about you, Yoongi?” Seokjin asks, “what would you have become if you weren’t an artist?”

Yoongi looks down at his lap, picks at the fabric of his pants. Scrunches his nose, “maybe something to do with music?”

Seokjin tilts his head in surprise, “a singer?”

“No, a music producer,” Yoongi looks at him finally, “it’s a long lost dream. I don’t want to become one anymore. But I can’t help but wonder if I’d be rich and successful by now if I had taken that path.” Yoongi laughs out, “but I like to think there’s another version of me in a parallel universe who is a famous musician.”

So Seokjin is not the only one riddled by the ache of what ifs. It eases some of it knowing Yoongi feels the same way. They’re not so different after all.

“I like how that sounds,” Seokjin muses. “Maybe in a parallel universe, in another timeline, you’re an award winning musician and I’m a famous vocalist and you write exclusive songs for me and we take over the world and overthrow the government.”

Yoongi’s answering laugh is child-like, twinkling like the stars they can’t see now, clinking like a spoon on an empty glass, sparkling like the strings of a chandelier.

“That’s nice. Maybe in that life you’re talking about,” Yoongi inhales, eyes looking fazed out, “we’re in a band together.” He pauses, “you, me and maybe Jeongguk.”

“Can we add Taehyungie too?” Seokjin jokes along, “and Park Jimin? I’m kinda biased about people I have in my life.”

Yoongi grins, “sure. But then I’d have to add Hoseok too.”

Yoongi’s smile is so contagious, it cracks Seokjin’s face in half too. “Fine. I’ll allow Jung Hoseok too.”

“And I’d also like Kim Namjoon.”

This surprises him to a great degree. Seokjin wasn’t going to be the one to say his name, but he wasn’t expecting Yoongi to say his name either. “Yah, are you in love with him or something?”

Yoongi shrugs again, still grinning. “I’d like to have brain-tickling, intellectual conversations about art with someone and it’s not gonna be the rest of you.”

The enthusiasm with which Yoongi says it makes Seokjin snort. It feels nice, joking about these things with Yoongi like he doesn’t have an entirely different life outside of this bubble, waiting to claw his flesh off the moment he steps out. Seokjin wouldn’t have been able to joke about this even a week before. But there’s something about Yoongi that makes him feel as though he can finally be free.

“Did I mention,” Seokjin says, “Namjoon was the one who taught me how to smoke?”

Yoongi tilts his head, “really?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin replies, “it only got worse when I got into med school and the stress nearly ended me.”

Yoongi stares at him again, trying to find something in his face. Seokjin is not sure what. “You fix people’s lungs,” Yoongi blurts out.

Seokjin can’t help the chuckle that bursts out of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “yeah, I fix people’s lungs.”

“Then isn’t it ironic that your lungs are likely to be more damaged than the patients you treat?” Yoongi muses. “You know what it can do to you and you’re still so reckless about it.”

Seokjin always did have a habit of self sabotaging. He hums again, “are you concerned about me?”

Yoongi’s answer doesn’t come right away at first. And then it does, “you know you can’t do that around Jeongguk.”

An inflated balloon deflates a little at Yoongi’s answer. But Seokjin hides it very well. “For a moment I thought you cared about my premature death.”

“I do,” Yoongi’s reply is too quick this time, “kinda, maybe. But I also have to be careful when it comes to Jeongguk.” Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he nods. Looking ahead, he can see the darkness eating itself up in the distance. The smell of home cooked meal wafting through the air, suddenly reminding him that he’s so hungry could eat a whole person.

“How long till it’s our turn?” Seokjin asks finally.

“For dinner? Shouldn’t be long now,” Yoongi replies. “Speaking of, you should take off your watch and try looking a bit more unkempt.”

When Seokjin looks at him in confusion, Yoongi is almost grinning. “What? Why?”

“You don’t want to let them take a whiff of your wealth.”

Truth be told, Seokjin does feel a little out of place. He can take off his watch, mess up his hair and try as he might. But he knows there will always be a distinction in how people are brought up their whole lives. He was already getting disdainful looks from the owner and other people inside like he’s a piece of trash who doesn’t belong in this corner of the world. The hurt in their eyes, the suffering in the crinkles of their skin is a testament to the life they lived. In contrast, Seokjin’s own skin is smooth and creaseless.

Things like this will always stand out.

Seokjin uses his free hand to slowly take his watch off, careful not to slip his hand out of Yoongi’s grip. The silver gleams in the low fairy light. He puts it down on the space by his side.

“Are you not going to let go of my hand?” Yoongi suddenly asks him. Seokjin violently shakes his head instead of answering. Yoongi exhales. “Hyung.”

Seokjin slowly turns to him, watches the creases of concern in Yoongi’s forehead. Seokjin has already explained to Yoongi about his decision to dive headfirst into what his heart desires. But he still isn’t sure what Yoongi is thinking, or what will become of them once they burst out of this bubble they’ve so carefully conjured. Seokjin doesn’t know where they’re heading to or if there is a way this could work out in the future. What will happen if it doesn’t? Whatever this is with Yoongi, it seems to be the only thread in his life that leads to the light at the end of the tunnel. Min Yoongi is his only way out.

“Come home with me.”

Yoongi blinks at him achingly slowly, “why?”

“Because I want you,” Seokjin blurts out without any hesitation or confusion, it’s as true as the day. “I want to fall asleep with you wrapped around my arms tonight and I want my pillows to smell like your hair when I wake up in the morning. I’ll leave out the details for your sake but I want you in ways you can’t even imagine, Min Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi doesn’t gasp or shriek or yelp, he doesn’t even look like he’s surprised to hear Seokjin’s blunt confession. And to be very honest, Seokjin expected nothing less.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Yoongi to not answer with words. Instead, Yoongi uses his free hand to bury his fingers into the hair on Seokjin’s nape, taking Seokjin by surprise and pulling him closer. And then he kisses him.

Unlike Seokjin, Yoongi is patient in his initiation. There is no hunger in the way Yoongi pulls Seokjin’s bottom lip into his mouth. Under the dim gold, Yoongi’s kisses are even more weightless, it makes Seokjin feel like he’s floating in space. Yoongi kisses gently, like he always is, like the soft footsteps of a baby only learning how to walk.

Seokjin doesn’t rush him, not wanting to break the trust Yoongi seems to have put in him by initiating affection for the first time ever, not after his own suggestive confession. He has no idea what Yoongi has in mind, if he will actually take up his offer and go home with him. But even the near future feels distant to him at this moment, when Yoongi is pulling him closer by the millisecond until their chests are flushed together and Seokjin thinks Yoongi wants to crawl inside his ribcages and replace his heart.

Yoongi parts but the touch of his lips linger, a hair’s breadth away. Seokjin thumbs along Yoongi’s jawline, whispers, “is that a yes?”

The breath Yoongi takes in is shaky, “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Seokjin presses their foreheads together and nods. “That’s alright, sweetheart.” It slips out without knowledge, and he can feel Yoongi stiffen for a bit before he relaxes again. “Sorry.”

“It’s…Seokjin hyung." Yoongi pulls away, rests his hand at the side of Seokjin’s neck. “I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

There is nothing Seokjin does, or can do, as Yoongi’s face slips away from his fingers.

“I never had a home with her to begin with, Yoongi-ah.”

“You will, eventually.” Yoongi reasons, “you’re marrying her.”

“I’m not married yet.” It’s with utmost certainty that Seokjin can tell he’s not certain where his head is right now. It is very clear that he’s not thinking this through. All he wants is Yoongi. All he can think of is Yoongi. And it’s not helping him make the most logical argument. “I’m not even engaged yet.”

Seokjin’s breath hitches when Yoongi curls his fingers at his nape and pulls him close again. The taste of cotton candy that lingered in Yoongi’s mouth before is long gone now, he licked it all off already. And this time Seokjin can actually taste Yoongi himself.

Yoongi is still kind and tender with his kiss, like he’s careful not to break something really sensitive and vulnerable. Even as Seokjin kisses him back ardently, Yoongi holds his face as if he’s carrying stray petals of a rose, cautious as to not lose a single one of them.

“Hyung,” Yoongi mumbles in the split second where he parts to breathe in.

“Yeah?”

Yoongi’s teeth softly grazes Seokjin’s bottom lip. He breathes into Seokjin’s mouth when he opens them.

“I don’t think we should ever see each other again after tonight.”

Seokjin holds Yoongi’s chin, tips his face back and slowly inserts his tongue inside Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi moves in rhythm just fine, not a single hint of resistance as Seokjin strives to go as deep as he can, lapping over his teeth, the ridges of his mouth and aiming to shove his tongue down Yoongi’s throat until he chokes. He still keeps at the pace Yoongi had set, slow and careful. Gentle. But deep, so deep, as though this is the only way he can ever be inside him.

He’s not sure when it happens or how it happens, but he’s pushed Yoongi back enough that now Yoongi is almost lying down on the bench with half of Seokjin’s body looming over him. They still have their hands intertwined, Yoongi’s knobby fingers digging into his hipbone.

Seokjin’s hand slides down Yoongi’s chin, resting at the base of his neck. He knows exactly where to apply the pressure so it feels pleasant. And so he does. Yoongi lets out a soft, choking moan as he starts digging his nails into Seokjin’s nape. Seokjin starts pulling away only a little to see the expression Yoongi is making-

“Excuse me?”

Someone clears their throat behind him. It snaps their attention back into reality. Seokjin whips his head back over his shoulder to see an old lady wearing a worn down apron standing at the doorway, his thumb still pressing into Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi scrambles under him, looking fazed out and equally mortified, yanks his hand off of Seokjin’s hold and pushes him off.

“Your dinner’s ready.” The lady looks a tad bit uncomfortable.

“Ahjumma,” Yoongi regains his composure first, sitting up straight but looking like all the blood in his body rushed up to his face. He looks like a tomato. “Hello.”

“Yoongi-ah?” A slow smile blooms on her wrinkled face at the familiarity of Yoongi. “My son was telling me it was you. But I couldn’t believe him until I saw you with my own eyes.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi chuckles, standing up fast and rubbing the back of his neck. “Been a while, ahjumma. How have you been?”

She shrugs non-committally, “the usual. How it always is for us.” When she looks down at Seokjin, her expression suddenly turns more stern. She looks him up and down with narrowed eyes. “A new friend?”

Seokjin looks at the ground and wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. The question wasn’t directed at him. So Yoongi answers, “yes, he, uhm.” He stutters a little, “yeah, he’s a friend.”

Ahjumma purses her lips and nods, “my son told me you’re here with someone other than Hoseokie, which was unbelievable. You two were always attached at the hip.” Then she grins, “how’s that boy now? He left this place once and never bothered to come see us again.”

Seokjin watches as Yoongi nervously plays with his fingers and gives her a tight smile. “He’s doing well. Hoseokie teaches at an elementary school now.”

Ahjumma hums first, and then, “and how’s that kid of yours? Still walks around grabbing your pinky?”

Yoongi’s chuckle comes out from deep within, his shoulders shaking with the impact. “Jeonggukie grew up well. He’s taller than me now.”

Ahjumma laughs back, “aigoo, how time flies, huh? Anyways, your dinner is ready. Come inside and eat before it gets cold.”

Yoongi smiles, “we’ll be right there.”

Yoongi looks down at Seokjin when she leaves. Seokjin has been sitting there quietly during the entire exchange, not wanting to disrupt the reunion. Yoongi sighs when Seokjin keeps at his silence, not sure what to do now. They were interrupted in a very vulnerable situation, Yoongi’s last words from before still ringing in his ears.

I don’t think we should ever see each other again after tonight.

And it’s not making him feel so good.

“Come on,” Yoongi says after the long minute of silence. “Aren’t you hungry?”

That’s probably it. Hunger is probably why he’s not feeling so good. Humming, he stands up and slips his hand in Yoongi’s without a question or hesitation. Yoongi doesn’t protest, doesn’t say anything in return. But he pulls Seokjin inside anyway.

The warm smell of home cooked meals hit his nostrils like a slap to his face. He murmurs, “I’m so hungry I could eat a whole person.”

Seokjin could be imagining it, but he thinks Yoongi is trying to hide his smile.

***

After dinner, Yoongi leads him out into the streets again. It’s getting late so he starts hurrying. They don’t hold hands this time and Seokjin doesn’t push him either. Yoongi walks a step ahead in full confidence, looking back every few seconds to check if Seokjin is still following him.

Seokjin brings out his phone and unlocks it when it vibrates with a text, wondering who it could be texting him at this hour.

Taehyungie
Staying at a friend’s house
I’ll be back in the morning
Don’t miss me too much

Seokjin
At least tell me which friend

Taehyungie
Okay mom
Wooshik hyung’s house

Seokjin
All of a sudden?

Taehyungie
Bogummie just returned from Paris too
We’re throwing him a party

Seokjin
Alright. Have fun.

Taehyungie
You too
Whatever it is that you’re doing

Seokjin locks his phone and shoves it back inside his pocket. Yoongi looks back at him at that very moment.

“I’m sorry this is taking longer than I intended it to,” Yoongi says, “it’ll only take a couple more minutes. Then I’ll let you go. You clearly have important tasks at home. I won’t take much of your time. It’s just something that has been bothering me for a while and I think you should know as well.”

Seokjin skips a step close to Yoongi and catches his fingers, then slowly laces them together. “You start overthinking the moment I let go of your hands,” he teases, “this could be an illness, you know?”

Yoongi shakes his head in disdain, “you’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious,” Seokjin tries to lighten the mood, “what made you think anything else is more important than this?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, and continues walking to the destination. It really does take them only a couple of more minutes to reach the place. And it’s not something Seokjin would have ever imagined could be here out of all the places.

From where they’re standing at the base, it looks like an old, abandoned ghost town. But it’s not completely dark, not at all. It’s not even quiet. There are more people gathered around here than the streets. And it doesn’t take him long to understand why.

Every single wall, every single uphill stair and every single inch of the street has been painted in vibrant colours and shapes. The long boundary wall right beside Seokjin has been painted in lush green, depicting an entire forest, filled with small painted animals and birds. Two fishes swimming against each other are painted along a stair at the far. Seokjin looks around more, a blue bear crouched down with what looks like industrial machines strapped to its back. Weight of the world. A grinning orange cat. A grandma knitting in her rocking chair. Some drawings of Snoopy. Two girls sitting on a ladder and fixing a broken wall. A woman shushing in black and white. A spreaded-winged eagle. Scenes from Korean folklore.

Seokjin blinks a few times at first, before he cannot even remember to make himself blink at all. The sudden flash of colours in the night, lit up by heavy streetlights- it’s not something he ever imagined Yoongi would bring him to witness. It feels like they have entered through a portal into an entirely different dimension. Seokjin didn’t even know this place existed until two minutes ago. This had to be a dream.

“I didn’t think this would surprise you this much,” Yoongi chuckles by his side.

Seokjin cannot take his eyes off the place, the vibrance of the corners, wanting to take in every single detail of the arts. “How is this real?”

Yoongi’s chuckle continues, “this is a pretty popular spot for Korean graffiti artists. Has been for a really long time. This is where Jeongguk grew up, practically smothered in paint his entire life. Word has it that RM also started his journey here. Not sure how true that is, but the street art community here believes it with their entire heart.”

Seokjin keeps looking around, gripping Yoongi’s hands even tightly. “Who is RM?”

“He’s a street artist based in Europe,” Yoongi explains, “he’s quite popular now. Although no one really knows who he is, no one has ever seen his face. It was debated for a long time whether he was Korean or not because the motifs he uses in his paintings are reminiscent of the patterns prominent here only. Then he went and simply wrote 사랑 in big fonts on a wall and that settled it. Jeongguk is a huge fan.” Yoongi ends with another laugh. “Says he wants to become as well known as him too.”

Seokjin looks at him then, the smile dying down slowly and quietly. “Don’t you also want to become a popular artist?”

Yoongi pulls him in another direction then. Seokjin follows without a question. “My first priority is Jeongguk.”

“I know. But it doesn't mean you have to give up on your dreams.”

“I don’t even do street art anymore,” Yoongi leads him up the stairs, nodding at some random people here and there. Acknowledging them. “Graffiti is Jeongguk’s thing. I’m more into traditional mediums of art.”

Seokjin remembers the painting Yoongi made for him, the blue hazy dream-like scene. “Like acrylic on a canvas?”

Yoongi nods. “I mostly work on commissions these days. It’s good money if you know where to find your clients, although a bit of an unstable source of income. But it gets us by if I’m careful enough with budgeting.”

“That reminds me,” Seokjin pulls on Yoongi’s hands to make him stop. Yoongi stops, looks back over and leans on the handles by a stair. Raising a questioning eyebrow. His energy seems to have gone up a few notches the moment they entered this place. “You never showed me the art you almost died for.”

Yoongi’s exhale is big but his lips do curve up at the end of it. “Will you never let that go?”

He’s standing a step ahead of Seokjin, so he has to look up at Yoongi to smile at him. He moves his head left and right. “It’s called Moon’s Children, right?”

Yoongi nods, reaches into his pocket to bring out his phone. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” Seokjin says, reluctantly letting Yoongi’s hands go when he realizes he needs both his hands to navigate his phone. Then quietly, “I remember everything about you.”

He watches as Yoongi unlocks it, presses and scrolls here and there until he stops at a certain place, probably in his gallery. Then he turns his screen to Seokjin.

It doesn’t register right away, but Seokjin sees an ocean of various shades of blue. Without thinking too much, Seokjin reaches out to gently hold his phone. Yoongi gives it to him without a question. He brings the screen close to his face to see.

The painting is a surreal one. On one side of the canvas, dark blue mountains take up some of the space. Then there’s a bit of a beach that fades at the point where the ocean waves crash in an ebb and flow. The ocean isn’t entirely quiet, but there’s no storm. Just the moments before that where it’s preparing for a raging tempest. The sky isn’t calm but the blue paint makes it look more serene than it actually is. But that’s not what’s surreal about it.

He zooms in.

Floating above the surface of the water, is a medium sized bright, transparent bubble, inside which, two little boys levitate in utter glee. Their faces aren’t clearly painted, but it’s obvious from the way they look at each other that they’re laughing with their whole chest. One is taller than the other, reaching out for the shorter one. The bubble is lit up entirely by the light of the moon, against the sparkling water also washed up by the moonlight. It’s with curiosity that Seokjin realizes that the moon itself is not present in the frame, but the stray rays of its light descend from the sky and illuminate the entire scene. Making the bubble with the kids inside look like the moon itself.

On the opposite side of the mountains there is a dark tree, situated somewhere in the middle of the ocean, bared of its leaves. The entire painting looks like it’s sparkling, although there is no evident glitter used to paint it. And there’s the familiar haziness to it that only Yoongi can pull off, like he’s seeing this in a dream.

Seokjin stares at it for who knows how long until the phone is picked off from his hand. Yoongi looks at the picture once before locking his phone and putting it back inside his pocket.

“You want me to believe you’re not a world famous artist already?” Seokjin is thinking out loud. He knows this might be a sensitive topic for him. But he can’t close his mouth, his jaws hanging open. “Don’t you ever want to hold an exhibition of your paintings? I think you’re wonderful, Yoongi-ah. You could make a fortu-”

“I get enough money from selling them the way I do,” Yoongi cuts him off, “I’m saving up to send Jeongguk to art school.”

“But don’t you ever wanna-”

“Hyung,” Yoongi doesn’t let him finish the sentence. “Let it go.”

“Alright,” Seokjin relents and doesn’t push further. He doesn’t ask more of the questions he has in mind, a little detail he noticed in the painting, why it doesn’t have Yoongi’s Agust signature in it.

Yoongi leads him up the stairs, into the alleys and in front of a house in the very corner that looks like no one has lived here in decades. The roof is in shambles, the doors are falling off, the windows broken into. But the outside walls are just as colourful as the rest of the place.

“All the paintings in this wall are made by Jeongguk.”

Seokjin whips his head at him first, then he focuses back on the house. The drawings are countless, both small and big ones. It starts at the very left, a painting of a boy in various colours; black, blue, red and green standing out. The technique Jeongguk used makes it seem like the paint is dripping down, also making it so that tears are streaming down his face. There's another one painted against white, a half-moon with an eye inside the curve. A stray tree with purple leaves.

Then there are more, as they continue to the right. But there is something odd about the ones on the right. These are not easily distinguishable. There are outlines, but not actual paintings. There are splashes of colours, but nothing that gives it a shape. The right side of the wall is painted in complete randomness, colours here and there but nothing that actually makes sense.

It reminds Seokjin of that roaring lion Jeongguk left unfinished.

“The ones on the left are really old.” Yoongi says from the side. “The ones on the right are new.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at the new ones, realizing that this is what Yoongi wanted him to see. Something about these do not seem right, even Seokjin can tell. They don’t look intentional, they look like Jeongguk was aiming for something big and then gave up halfway through.

“Non-finito for the first time is cool and edgy,” Yoongi says quietly. “A second time is okay. The third time is concerning.”

Seokjin takes a step back, wanting to get a better view of the entire wall at once. “And you don’t think Jeongguk is slacking off?”

Yoongi answers in the negative. And he’s gone a bit quiet, like he’s scared of something. “No. Jeongguk isn’t the type to half-ass anything. He made that pencil sketch of Taehyung with utmost dedication. So no, I don’t think he’s lost his motivation and love for art.”

The contrast on the left and right side is immediately noticeable. Seokjin has seen Taehyung’s sketch, it was immaculate and it’s clear that Jeongguk hasn’t suddenly fallen out of love for art. Seokjin looks around, empty spray cans litter the side of the street. Streaks of paint- red, yellow, blue, green- scratches across the less pretty walls.

Seokjin remembers seeing the cans in Jeongguk’s bag for the very first time. He remembers the sad, understanding look Jeongguk kept giving him when Seokjin told him he has asthma. He remembers that roaring lion in that dark alley, Yoongi looking at it with concern in his eyes like he wasn’t entirely certain it was a good thing that Jeongguk left it unfinished. Non-finito, he said, artists leaving works unfinished so the audience can fill in the gaps. But looking at the wall now, he understands why Yoongi was worried. Seokjin is too.

The only piece Jeongguk completed in the recent times is the sketch he made of Kim Taehyung.

Which was drawn entirely with pencil.

Holy shit.

“Isocyanates,” Seokjin’s voice comes out in a whisper, but Yoongi hears him just right. “Spray paints used to draw graffiti contains isocyanates.”

He looks at Yoongi then, who looks like he’s about to burst into tears. Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, a cold graze of the wind blows by him, making his hair dance in the motion, his shirt waving like a flag. “Is that what I think it is?"

Seokjin curls his hands. It makes so much sense now, why didn’t he think of this before? He was looking at it in all the wrong ways.

“It is one of the volatile organic compounds and it can enter the lungs in forms of aerosolized paint fumes.” When Yoongi opens his eyes, Seokjin sees the tears pooling on his lashes. “Prolonged and repeated exposure to isocyanate particles can cause or trigger asthma. I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

Yoongi isn’t outright crying, but he looks like he’s about to. He presses the pads of his fingers to his eyes, takes a sharp intake of breath.

“So it is my fault,” Yoongi’s voice is shaky, hands now covering his whole face. “I should’ve taken better care of him. I should’ve been more careful about what I was-” he’s unable to finish the sentence as his voice cracks at the end of the words.

Seokjin’s legs work quickly, reaching in front of Yoongi in no time. He wraps his arms around him and his Yoongi-ah buries his face in Seokjin’s chest without a question as though this is the most natural thing for him to do. Yoongi isn’t shaking violently, but his breaths come out heavy as a brick. And Seokjin can feel the soft vibrations right into his own lungs. He smooths his hand down Yoongi’s hair, swaying him a little like he’s trying to lull a child into sleep.

“Hey, now. Jeongguk’s case isn’t severe,” Seokjin says quietly, but the clouds grumble in an angry way. “He’ll be able to live a normal life, he just has to be careful. That’s all.” Seokjin watches the ghost town over Yoongi’s shoulder, the vibrance creating an illusion of life.

Yoongi sniffles into his chest. “But doesn’t that mean Jeongguk can never paint again?” Seokjin stiffens. “Seokjin hyung. This is his whole life.”

“He needs to stay away from all forms of spray paint,” Seokjin tightens his hold. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi-ah.”

The pressure around him seems to wake Yoongi up, as he suddenly raises his head and stares up at Seokjin with wide eyes. Seokjin looks down at his face, broken and a burning red. He adjusts, cups Yoongi’s face and wipes the invisible tears on his cheeks away with his thumbs.

Yoongi’s skin is a little dry, but soft under his touch. Like cotton balls. “I know you’re upset but there’s nothing to worry about. You can still send Jeongguk to art school. He just can’t do…this. Graffiti, I mean. And you have me, didn’t I always tell you?”

“Jeongguk does,” Yoongi blurts, “I don’t. Not really. You weren’t ever mine to begin with.”

His blunt answer stuns Seokjin for a moment. Words he wanted to hear but not in this context. Mine. But not really like this. Not ever, not a little. Not even close. Seokjin reaches up and combs his fingers down Yoongi’s wayward hair.

And swallows the lump in his throat, “is it really the time to care about technicalities?”

“For you? Yeah.” Yoongi says. “You need to be reminded every now and then.”

Despite himself, Seokjin ends up chuckling at that, remembering who was the one between the two to start the kiss last time. “And you don’t?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer that, just looks down at his shoes and lets Seokjin tuck a strand behind his ear. Seokjin drops it, not wanting to further torment Yoongi about something he started himself. Whatever this is they’re doing. He’ll bear the weight of it alone, he’s used it. Seokjin had done it his entire life, carrying burdens no one really saw or cared about. And this is Yoongi he’s talking about.

“Let’s take you somewhere else.” Seokjin lets go of Yoongi’s face and takes a step back, giving him some room to breathe. Yoongi needs to relax more than he does.

“I wanna go home,” Yoongi whispers.

“Okay.” With a heavy heart, Seokjin nods. “I’ll take you home.”

***

The storm hits right before they board the train, the sky crumbles down on the earth in a heavy shower.

The train ride back into the main city is not as packed as before, since the rush hour has very much subsided already. But that doesn’t mean they get empty seats. However, this time, there is more space here to stand comfortably. Although Seokjin holds onto the same metal bar in the center as Yoongi does.

Yoongi has calmed down by now, the walk back to the station helped. The cool air cleared his head. And Seokjin’s jokes. They definitely helped the most.

But all these hours together, and he still doesn’t know what’s going on in Yoongi’s pretty head. Yoongi told him he already had this suspicion about Jeongguk and only brought Seokjin here for confirmation. But everything else that happened, none of that was planned.

Seokjin himself is a lost cause, but he didn’t expect Yoongi to be so eager either. Not only did he kiss Seokjin back, he also kissed him first. Twice. And he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself about this, on what it means.

What a mess they’ve found themselves in.

Yoongi grabs the metal bar right underneath where Seokjin is holding and Seokjin slides his hand down only so he has some form of contact with Yoongi’s skin. He’d been holding Yoongi’s hand practically all night, and he’s still a glutton who only wants more of him.

When Yoongi doesn’t protest, as he never does, Seokjin slides sideways and stands right next to him before he rests his chin on top of Yoongi’s head.

“What’s up with you now?” Yoongi grumbles without any actual bite. The condensation on the window glasses due to the rain makes it difficult to see the city outside. The sound of crackling thunder drums in his ears.

“Mm, tired.” Seokjin puts more of his weight on Yoongi.

“Do you wanna sit?” Yoongi asks. “Do you want me to tell someone you hurt your knee?”

“No, it’s fine,” Seokjin closes his eyes, “you’re enough.”

Seokjin thinks Yoongi chuckles a little, it sounds so nice to his ears.

“Yoongi-ah?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you dating Jung Hoseok?”

“Why?” Yoongi counters, “do you wanna date him?”

“Well,” Seokjin isn’t about to back down. “If you’re taking Kim Namjoon then I’ll take Jung Hoseok.”

“Sure,” Yoongi laughs again, Seokjin lays his cheek down on his head, feeling the pricks of Yoongi’s baby hair on his face. “Hoseokie was the first friend I made in Seoul and the only one that stood the test of time. So he practically raised Jeongguk with me. It’s why Jeongguk calls him the other father. He was there with us through the thicks and thins. Hoseok used to live at the house right beside us. And he left that place before we did. The apartment we live in now? Hoseok used to rent it before he moved to a better neighbourhood.”

Seokjin’s not going to lie, the ugliest jealousy burns a hole through his skin. The inevitable envy eats away at him because instead of Hoseok, it should have been him. If fate played its cards right, Seokjin could have been Jeongguk’s other father. Even if it meant he would have to give up a life full of comfort and luxury.

Because looking where all that wealth and luxury brought him now, if he knew this is how his life would turn out to be, he thinks he’d prefer to have the privilege of falling asleep next to Yoongi under the open sky. Instead of an air conditioned room. Instead of Namjoon.

When Seokjin doesn’t say anything in reply, Yoongi continues, his tone suddenly going quiet.

“Hoseok and I dated for a year back when I was nineteen.”

If that jealousy burned a hole through him before, now it burned him until he melted into a jealous, hot goop. It was bad enough that Hoseok was there raising Jeongguk with him, now he finds out he also dated Yoongi. The Min Yoongi, who is the object of Seokjin’s greatest affections. And Hoseok dated him, while Seokjin is here stealing kisses in an abandoned town because they can’t be together.

He takes his weight off of Yoongi, then leans his forehead on the metal bar, looking straight into Yoongi’s eyes on the opposite side.

He feels a little cross-eyed. “So you did date him.”

“For a year,” Yoongi repeats, emphasising, “when I was nineteen.”

“Why did you break up?”

Yoongi shrugs, “wasn’t meant to be. Figured we worked better as friends. Our personalities didn’t align. Stuff like that.”

But that still doesn’t mean Jung Hoseok is not a threat. He’s still very much involved in Yoongi and Jeongguk’s lives. Very much present. And he has already seen more of their lives than Seokjin did. And he’ll be seeing more of them than Seokjin ever will.

“Can’t lie, I’m glad you guys broke up.” Seokjin blurts out and Yoongi snorts.

“Hoseokie and I had a deal that if we’re both single by the time we’re thirty, we’d marry each other.”

It’s like someone stomped the burning, hot goop of jealousy with a heavy boot until it’s all splashed in every corner of this compartment. At this point, it seems like Yoongi is riling him up on purpose.

“Aren’t you single and thirty already? When are you marrying him then?”

At that, Yoongi gives him a mischievous smile. Seokjin can’t tell what’s so funny about that. He’s already battered and bruised as-

“Hyung, Hoseok’s already married.”

Someone takes the hot, jealous lava and dunks an ocean on it. Just with these words, Seokjin’s raging blood pressure drops to its normal count. He gapes at him. Yoongi couldn’t have told him about this before?

“Uh, what?”

Yoongi, honest to god, giggles at his face. “The deal was if we were both single by the time we’re thirty. He got married at twenty six. Left the party at ten.” Seokjin closes his eyes and shakes his head, Yoongi keeps chuckling on the other side. “You should see your face right now.”

When Seokjin opens his eyes, Yoongi is still shaking with his laughter. “All this time I thought you two had something going on.”

Yoongi rests his cheek on the bar, “would it have made any difference if you knew the truth?”

Seokjin tightens his grip. “Probably. I don’t know. I would’ve kissed you earlier.”

The last bits of the laugh fades away from his face. But Yoongi’s expression still remains pleasant.

“Don’t lie. Hoseok was never the problem. Jiyoo-ssi was.” Yoongi pauses, blinks up at him slowly. “Still is, isn’t she?”

Seokjin can’t help but follow his next action, Yoongi’s teeth digging into his bottom lip like cotton. “Would it have made a difference to you if she wasn’t in the picture?”

Yoongi looks up at him through his lashes, and catches Seokjin staring at his mouth. Yoongi’s own gaze flitter down on his lips too. And as much as Seokin would like to pick up from where they left off at the restaurant, this isn’t the right place for that.

“Don’t know. Probably.” Yoongi copies his answer.

How many hits Seokjin can take back to back, he’s not sure. But it’s almost as if the universe is trying to check what his limit is. How much he can be stretched thin until he finally snaps.

They reach their stop and they file out of the train together, the conversation still lingering in the space between them. Thunder rumbles through the city, and echoes through the half-empty station. Neither of them have an umbrella, Yoongi didn’t let him bring his car. He has no idea if they can find a cab in this situation. But if push comes to shove, Seokjin is willing to spend the entire night lying down in a corner of the station alongside Yoongi. Or get drenched in the rain.

“Back at your house, when you treated my wound, made soup for me,” Seokjin says, remembering how it was right before all hell broke loose and he thought he had a chance of getting out. “I asked you if you wanted me to break up with her.”

Yoongi tilts his head, runs his hand through his hair to tame the mess. “Things were different back then.”

“But has your answer changed since then?” Yoongi closes his eyes at that, and hums in contemplation, or maybe exhaustion. And a tingling sensation cooks up in Seokjin’s stomach. “Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi looks dead straight into his eyes then, as though he can see right into his soul.

“Probably. I came to you with that painting because I thought-” he starts but doesn’t finish, and Seokjin takes a sharp inhale. “But I hadn’t known you were gonna get engaged to her until tonight. So I guess it nullifies everything and it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Standing still at the station now practically empty, Seokjin stares at him, the faint hint of a smile on his face that doesn’t really reach his eyes. It’s a sad smile, a sorry excuse of an attempt at trying to hide his true feelings. Truth be told, Seokjin isn’t doing any better himself, in a sense that he feels a lodge stuck in his throat. His throat feels dry, words don’t come out of his mouth. When they do, they quiver.

“But you know that I kissed you after the engagement was confirmed, right?”

Seokjin watches as Yoongi curls his fists. “What do you think that makes you? And what does that make me?”

He knows exactly what. But Seokjin, for one, stopped giving a shit about any of that. He probably wouldn’t have acted on his feelings for Yoongi if he had even an iota of reverence for Jiyoo. And if Jiyoo had any sort of respect for him in return. They are destined to fail, doomed to make a hell out of the other’s life. So to Seokjin, it is wrong only on the level of technicality.

And this does not make him feel any guilt.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” His heart is beating fast. “Why did you keep pushing me away?”

Yoongi blinks slowly at him, “it didn’t feel right to desire something I couldn’t afford.”

“Yoongi-ah.”

“You’re you and I’m me,” Yoongi says, “we come from two very different worlds. People like you don’t belong with someone like me. I can’t live up to the standard of life you’re used to, that you grew up in. What I make in a year is probably what you save in a month. I live in a one-room rooftop apartment, while you live in, I don’t know, a condominium. Jiyoo-ssi is the perfect match for you. Her income, her family, it all matches with yours. That’s why you are where you are now. Me, on the other hand, I have nothing to offer you,” and then, he smiles again, taking a step back from him, “that’s the ugly truth, Seokjin-ssi.”

And it stings again, it stings so bad Seokjin wants to dip his hand into a flame so it feels less painful in comparison.

But he reaches out instead, harshly grabbing Yoongi’s face and slamming his mouth on to his. Seokjin is merciless this time, not caring about the people, biting Yoongi’s lips right off the bat. Yoongi gasps first in surprise before he realizes what’s going on. Seokjin feels Yoongi’s hands sliding up his body, over his shirt, and settles in the crooks of his neck. Yoongi kisses him back with just as much enthusiasm, even with all the people in the station, Seokjin can hear the soft moans Yoongi lets out involuntarily.

In the split second when Seokjin parts to breathe, Yoongi takes the chance and slots his hand over Seokjin’s mouth, putting up a boundary between them. Then Yoongi leans his forehead over his own hand. Seokjin blinks first, breathing heavily, hazy smoke covering his mind.

Seokjin finds respite in the fact that Yoongi is having trouble breathing as well.

“Hyung. We shouldn’t see each other again.” Yoongi says in between his heavy breaths. “Not after tonight.”

Seokjin doesn’t push him, but slowly pries Yoongi’s hand away from his mouth. His breath hitches when he looks down at Yoongi’s face. His eyes are red, bloodshot. But he isn’t crying, not yet. He most likely won’t. Seokjin cups his face, caresses him like the morning sunlight kisses the quiet lakes through the leaves. He leans their foreheads together for the thousandth time tonight. A little addicted and a little sick in this addiction. Yoongi smells a bit like his colours, not paint, but gardens of blooms, like a field of freesias on a late-winter afternoon. An assortment of unnamed feelings whirls up in his stomach, threatening to overspill.

No, that’s a lie. He knows exactly what its name is.

And Seokjin pushes it right back in.

Yoongi says they shouldn’t see each other again. And the logical part of him knows that this is the best course of action. If they keep in contact, Seokjin is sure he’ll somehow find himself back in Yoongi’s doorstep, trying to knit a blessing out of broken threads.

And that’d be so unfair to Yoongi. Because as much as Seokjin doesn’t care about the infidelity, he can’t have Yoongi drowning himself in guilt. Besides, Yoongi will never forgive himself if Jeongguk ever finds out.

So if not for his morals, if not for saving his sorry excuse of a relationship with his fiance, he has to sever this connection for the sake of Yoongi himself.

The fine art of letting go, they call it.

“Whatever you want, cupcake,” Seokjin finally lets the words out, not recoiling at the nickname this time around.

Because if this is the last time he’s seeing Yoongi, then he’s going to make the most of it. He’s going to go all in without any regret. Because if he has to live the rest of his life in the miserable grave waiting for him all alone, he will allow himself this one chance at true respite.

Seokjin’s freedom is scarce. And he’s going to use it all up with his Yoongi.

“Min Yoongi,” if he sounds desperate, then he doesn’t care.

“Seokjin hyung.”

“If you don’t want to see me again after this, that’s fine with me.” Seokjin’s voice is only above a whisper. “But can you at least give me tonight? The night only ends at sunrise.”

Even Yoongi’s voice is raspy at this point, barely holding on to a loose thread. And he asks anyway, knowing the exact reason- “why?”

And Seokjin humours him too, forcing a smile on his face for Yoongi, despite it aching so much his lungs threaten to burst out.

“I told you I’ll take you home. So I’m taking you home.”

***

Seokjin does not let go of Yoongi’s hand.

Watching as the storm wreaks havoc through the city from the shades of the station, Seokjin holds Yoongi’s hand so tightly that blood might break out of his skin. Yoongi has been quiet, but in reality, so has Seokjin. The pulses in his wrists, his neck, his ankle, his heart-muscles; they beat so loud in their rhythmic cadence that they rival the thunders.

“The walls of my apartment are very grey,” Seokjin clears his throat, looking away at the avenue half under water. “I wanted to ask you to take a look and see if you could paint it like you did your own walls?”

The sound of rain makes it hard to hear his words. But Yoongi looks at the ground and nods, “if you really want.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure you want to ruin your million dollar luxury apartment?”

“I wouldn’t call it ruining,” Seokjin turns to him, notices the water droplets on Yoongi’s head and ruffles them away. Then he fixes Yoongi’s hair again. “Maybe a bit of a renovation from a really talented artist wouldn’t hurt.”

Yoongi huffs a really quiet, subtle laugh, as though he’s being very careful about not letting his true feelings out. It’s almost like Seokjin can physically feel Yoongi slowly putting his walls back up again.

“I’ll take a look,” Yoongi says, “and ask Jeongguk if he can do anything about it.”

“I don't think you should let Jeongguk go near anything that has to do with walls and paints any time soon,” Seokjin replies, looking around to check if their cab has arrived or not. If it can. Without paying any heed, Seokjin gives their connected hands a swing. “Won’t you do it? I wanted you to do it.”

Yoongi looks away to the other side, “I shouldn’t.”

“Is there anything I can do to convince you-”

“Hyung.” Yoongi’s voice turns stern as he looks back. “No.”

“Okay,” Seokjin purses his lips and nods, “okay, if you say so. I just thought I’d ask.”

“Maybe it would do you good if you took my word at face value sometimes.”

“Why would I?” Seokjin teases, nudging Yoongi from the side. “You’re so sexy when you’re a little pissed at me.”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose.

Seokjin rubs his nose, tightens his grip, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Were you always interested in art as a child? Is it something you have been doing since you were little?”

“No,” Yoongi’s voice is quiet, “I wanted to be a musician when I was little.”

Seokjin remembers the conversation they had earlier, about being in a band in another timeline. It had to come from somewhere. “So why didn’t you?”

“The equipment was expensive,” Yoongi looks up at him for a brief moment before looking ahead, a cab approaches them. It could be theirs. “My dad…the biological one, didn’t allow it and I wasn’t saving enough to buy them myself.”

Seokjin hums, “so you turned to art? When and how did that happen?”

Before Yoongi can answer, the cab stops in front of them. Seokjin checks with the driver to make sure it’s the one they called and then opens the door. He urges Yoongi to get inside first, letting go of his hand reluctantly so that he can settle in, and closes the door when he also climbs in afterwards.

Yoongi sits at the furthest right, as Seokjin sits on the left side of the backseat. They’re sitting far enough that Seokjin can’t subtly reach out to touch him if he wanted to, he’d have to scoot all the way over to the opposite side and make it obvious what he wants to do. Instead, he rests his palms on his own knees and ruffles bits of the rain water from his hair.

“It was actually Jeongguk’s dad,” Yoongi replies after the cab starts for their location. At first, Seokjin is confused as to what he means, and sensing his confusion Yoongi rests his elbows on the window and bites the tip of his thumb. “Jeongguk’s dad was an artist. He was the one who taught me everything I know, although only for a very short period of the time we had together. He let me use his art supplies, got me an acrylic set on my birthday. He did more for me than my own father ever did.”

Seokjin watches as a small smile tugs at the end of Yoongi’s lips at the mention of his step father. “I’m glad you had someone like him in your life.”

“Me too,” Yoongi drops his hand and puts both of them in between his knees to warm them up. “Jeongguk is skilled for sure, but some of it has to be genetics. I had to learn everything from scratch at an older age, but Jeongguk was gifted from the start. I’d teach him how to draw a circle and he’d be turning that into a bunny head by the next day. It was crazy.” Yoongi ends with a laugh.

And it’s so contagious that Seokjin ends up laughing as well. “Was he a difficult child?”

Yoongi leans back on the seat and turns his head to look at him, blinking slowly. And Seokjin can’t help but be mesmerized. Damp hair sticking to his forehead, pale skin like that of a ghost. Kiss bitten, swollen lips. The exposed skin of his neck. Just a little longer , the treacherous voice inside his head provides unhelpfully, just a little longer until this journey ends.

“No,” Yoongi rasps out, “he was the sweetest kid, good natured and obedient. Jeongguk liked walking around shirtless when he was little,” he laughs, pointing to his chests, his elbows, “and always had mud covering his whole body. It’d get into his hair and I had to wash them off. He said he was painting on the streets with the mud. It was an…experience raising him. But it wasn’t difficult.”

The cab turns a corner, the weather has worsened the traffic condition. They stop at a red light. Seokjin stares at him still, unable to look away from the fondest look on his face.

“I can’t imagine doing what you did at that young age,” Seokjin says, “you should be proud of yourself.”

The laugh that Yoongi lets out is a tad bit ironic, like he can’t believe where he’s found himself after all these years. “What were you doing at seventeen?”

Seokjin bites his lip, “running away from my responsibilities.”

“Right, right.” Yoongi’s laugh continues to rage on, his shoulders shaking now. When it dies down, Yoongi sighs, “that must be the true luxury of life. Not having responsibilities.”

“I had them,” Seokjin replies, “I just wasn’t brave enough to face them head on.”

“To each their own, huh.” Yoongi looks ahead.

“I guess.”

“You had a torrid love affair with a stranger you met on the street.”

Seokjin leans his elbow on his knees, covers his mouth with his fingers, presses on his lips and bites the skin inside. Yoongi senses the movement and meets his stare head on.

“Are you talking about yourself, Min Yoongi-ah?”

This time, Yoongi leans further into the space between them, drops his voice. “Funny how you never seemed guilty about it.”

Encouraged, even Seokjin leans in, whispers, “because I’m not.”

Yoongi slowly moves his head left and right without any disdain, “shameless.”

“I have been since the day I met you.”

Yoongi watches his face, moving his gaze from Seokjin’s eyes to his nose to his lips to the ticks of his jaws. Seokjin has his hands clenched, nails digging into his skin, itching to reach out and push Yoongi against the condensed car window.

“You really haven’t slept with anyone since that night?” Yoongi blurts out without acknowledging the other person in the cab. Seokjin senses the driver glancing at them through the rearview mirror. But if Yoongi isn’t giving a shit, then he won’t either.

“No,” he confesses, “it was either going to be you or no one else.”

The car moves, Yoongi tilts his head, “hard to believe someone as promiscuous as you would have such admirable self control.”

Seokjin feels his own lips tug up, “if I didn’t, you’d be in a very compromised position right now, Yoongi.”

Even in the dark, Seokjin notices the blush concentrating on Yoongi’s face, his neck, his ears. He watches Yoongi swallow, his throat bobbing as he leans back and looks away shyly. Seokjin can’t help but smile, a little chuckle escaping him without meaning to. Yoongi is cute, he is so cute Seokjin wants to bite him all over. He reaches out instead, holding Yoongi’s wrist and pulling his hand to himself. Uncurling Yoongi’s fist and slotting his own fingers between Yoongi’s. And as usual, Yoongi doesn’t protest.

The rain pitters on the roof, they’re getting very close to their destination. Seokjin rubs the back of Yoongi’s hand.

“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” Seokjin says, “not with me.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth several times before he finally looks at Seokjin. “This has to be the first and the last time.”

The last time, he says. Seokjin looks down at their hands, drawing a pattern on Yoongi’s skin. He forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat. Seokjin shouldn’t be thinking about the emptiness that will envelop him after tonight, he knows it will. That is a bridge he will have to burn eventually. But he needs to gather his wits and focus on the now, while he has Yoongi’s hand in his, while he can smell him from where he’s sitting and he still can kiss Yoongi as much as he wants to.

While Yoongi is his, for the time being.

“Okay.” So he swallows the lump in his throat and nods, “if that’s what you want. I just want to make you feel good.”

Yoongi stares, and the car stops right in front of Seokjin’s apartment complex. The driver repeats the fare. Letting his hand go, Seokjin absent-mindledly brings out his phone and taps to make the payment.

The car leaves them stranded in the rain, lightning snaking through the clouds roaring so loud it could shatter the earth and crack it open in half. Seokjin reaches up and spreads his hands over Yoongi’s head, shielding him ineffectively from the rain.

“If you want to make me feel good,” Yoongi blinks up at him through the rain on his lashes, “then you should make me desserts.”

Seokjin ends up chuckling at that. He grabs Yoongi’s wrist and pulls him until they’re inside the lobby, finally shielded from the rain. Seokjin uses the sleeves of his shirt to wipe the water from Yoongi’s face and shake the drops off his hair again. Yoongi’s uneven bangs fall over his face in a beautiful way, flimsy and wispy and blowing in the bit of the wind that peeks through.

“Wait here,” Seokjin says, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll be right back. If anyone asks, just say you’re a friend of Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi nods, “and if they ask for my name?”

Seokjin backs away, “just tell them who you are. There’s no need to hide. You don’t need to worry about that kind of stuff when you’re with me.”

Yoongi purses his lips and nods again, hugging himself. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back in ten.”

Seokjin runs out in the rain, practically flying through the streets and jumping over the aisles to cross the road, splashing water in a competition with the cars. He’s already drenched, but he cares very little about that, if not at all.

He’s panting by the time he bursts through the nearest bakery, the boy behind the counter looking at his condition with wide eyes. Seokjin puts a hand on his chest to catch his breath.

“One of everything please,” Seokjin huffs, his lungs have really taken a hit. “Everything you have. I don’t care. Just hurry.”

The boy scrambles and gets to work immediately. Water is sliding down his clothes and onto the floor, so Seokjin stands still at a corner of the shop, not wanting to make a further mess than he already has. The boy ends up packing two bags worth of all the desserts in the shop, one of each. Seokjin pays him as quickly as he can, and tips him extra for the mess he’s made.

When he goes back, he has to be more careful, so as to not ruin the desserts he just got for Yoongi. Which means he has to walk more slowly and get even more drenched as a result. He crosses the road carefully, starts walking towards his building, passing by the familiar store he frequents so often.

He stops, remembering something important all of a sudden.

Seokjin turns around and walks inside the store. Asks the man at the counter if he can keep the boxes on the table before he disappears into the aisles to get what he needs. When the receptionist puts everything inside a packet, Seokjin protests.

“No need for that,” he says, and shoves everything inside two of his pockets instead.

When he walks inside the complex again, he’s dripping from head to toe. Yoongi looks at him with wide eyes.

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin says, trying to wipe the water off his face with his forearm. “You have to compliment the desserts even if they're bad.”

Yoongi comes forward and takes one of the boxes from his hand, holds it up to his chest carefully with both of his hands. “I wasn’t talking about this. I thought we could whip up some quick hotteok in your kitchen.”

Seokjin puts an arm around a dumbfounded Yoongi, pulls him close and presses a kiss to his temple. “We can still make hotteok in my kitchen.”

The elevator ride up feels achingly slow. But Seokjin makes good use of it, staring at Yoongi all he wants without interruption. He’s feeling giddy about the fact that Yoongi is finally coming to his house.

Seokjin leans his head on the elevator wall and watches Yoongi’s every move, Yoongi looking around nervously until he meets his gaze. They make it out of the elevator unscathed, mostly because Seokjin resists himself from misbehaving with Yoongi. When Seokjin punches his code in, Yoongi waits right behind.

All the lights turn on the moment Seokjin steps in, holding the door wide open for Yoongi to follow in. He looks back over his shoulder to see Yoongi looking down at the ground and biting the insides of his cheeks nervously.

Seokjin takes the box from his hand. “Come on in.”

Yoongi walks in and closes the door behind him. Seokjin heads straight for the kitchen and puts the boxes down on the counter, leaving a trail of water behind himself. He laughs at himself when he walks back over to the living room where Yoongi is still standing awkwardly.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Seokjin says, running a hand through his hair. “Make yourself at home.”

Yoongi holds his arms up, showing his sleeves, “my clothes are wet. They’ll ruin your couch.”

It’s not that Seokjin minds, but he does not push Yoongi. He simply hums and says, “Come on then, you can borrow my clothes.”

When Yoongi doesn’t move, Seokjin walks over to him and rests his hands on both of Yoongi’s shoulders. He ducks down to meet Yoongi’s eyes. “Hey.”

Yoongi’s shaky eyes meet him, blinking. “Hi.”

It does not make Seokjin feel good to see Yoongi so distraught, it never did. And it doesn’t feel nice knowing he might be the reason why Yoongi is feeling this way.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, then we can make hotteok and watch something on the tv and call it a day. Or a night.”

“No, it’s not that,” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I just need to freshen up and get out of these clothes.”

Seokjin slides his hands down his arms and wraps them around Yoongi’s wrists again, pulling him towards his own room. “You can use my bathroom. It has everything you might need.”

Something clenches in his chest when they enter his room. He’s not sure what. Yoongi’s breath audibly hitches behind him. And so does Seokjin’s. Which is unusual. He’s been living in his apartment for years, he’s been sleeping on this same kingsized bed since he moved in. Seokjin lets go of Yoongi and turns around to face him, watching Yoongi as he watches the painting he made of Seokjin leaned against all the thick books on his table.

Seokjin doesn’t comment on that, instead throws his hand around with a chuckle. “This is my room,” then he points to the door to the bath. “And that’s the bathroom. Go and freshen up. I’ll prepare dry clothes for you.”

Yoongi nods and slowly walks inside, locking the door behind him.

And that’s when Seokjin lets out the breath he’s been holding all along.

He stares at his bed, now empty, and thoughts start invading his mind. And it makes his stomach tingle. Which is stupid, so so stupid. Because he’s been dreaming of this since forever. He’s had these thoughts before. So they shouldn’t be as tormenting as they feel right now.

“Shit,” he runs a hand down his face and walks to the closet, bringing two sets of fresh, dry clothes. One for Yoongi and the other for himself and sets them down on the bed.

Seokjin takes one set in his hands and knocks on the bathroom door. The door opens slightly, Yoongi’s face peeking out behind it. His hair is still damp and it looks like he just finished washing his face. Seokjin holds the clothes in front of Yoongi, who looks down at them once before looking up at him again.

Then Yoongi opens the door wider, and oh-

Seokjin whips his head away at the first sign of skin on Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi isn’t naked, not completely, but he might as well be. He had unbuttoned the first few buttons and now his chest is open wide, the damp navy shirt is a stark contrast against his complexion. If Yoongi is pale on the face, then he’s transparent on his chest.

Yoongi holds the clothes with one hand at the top, the other right under. And coincidentally over Seokjin’s hands. A surge of electricity courses through his veins.

“Thanks,” Yoongi says.

“You can take a shower if you want,” Seokjin blurts out, looking ahead at his empty walls. Forcing himself not to turn to Yoongi. “Use my shampoo. Washing off the rain water is important. You’ll end up catching a cold otherwise and then you’ll need to visit the doctor and I can’t let you visit someone who isn’t me.”

“Alright,” he hears the snort Yoongi tries to hide, “then you need to shower too. Your condition is worse than mine.”

“Yeah, I need to as well.”

“I’ll be qui-”

“No, take your time,” Seokjin says, “I’ll use the other bathroom. It’s fine.”

“Right, right.” He hears Yoongi chuckle. “Of course there’s another bathroom.”

“I’ll just…yeah.” Seokjin looks at his shoes and backs away, careful not to accidentally look up to a half naked Yoongi. Then he grabs his clothes and storms out of the room.

Seokjin quickly cleans the floors first, and then gets to shower. It’s only when the warm water hits his back that Seokjin’s shoulder relaxes. He’s been worked up since the moment he met Yoongi in the evening and everything that had followed only made things worse. And now Yoongi is showering in Seokjin’s personal bathroom and Seokjin doesn’t know how to act.

He dries himself with the towel and puts on his dry clothes. When he entered the shower, he haphazardly threw all his wet clothes here and there. So he collects them to put them all in the washing machine. And that’s when his hands touch the contents in the pockets of his wet clothes.

“Ah shit,” Seokjin brings them all out and quickly shoves them inside the pockets of the trousers he’s wearing now.

Pressing the towel to his damp hair, trying to dry them as fast as he can, Seokjin enters into his own room again, feeling oddly nervous. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen, so he’s probably still in the shower.

Seokjin walks slowly towards his nightstand, a grinning picture of him in his graduation robe leaning lonely by the small lamp. Seokjin lets the damp towel hang over his arm, as he thinks about how the version of him that’s smiling in the picture was never truly happy. He still isn’t. But he owed it to his younger self to become a better version of himself, to be really free and content. And failed miserably.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, this is no time to think about such stuff. Seokjin shoves his hands inside his pocket, brings everything out and dumps them all on the nightstand.

“I was wondering what took you so long to come back,” Seokjin jumps at the voice, looks over his shoulder to see Yoongi standing right by his bed. Seokjin’s clothes are oversized on him, loosely hanging over Yoongi’s frame. He didn’t hear Yoongi come outside. “You bought a variety of them.”

Seokjin looks back down at the packs of condoms and the bottle of lube, picks one of them up and examines what’s written on it. Textured.

“Of course,” he turns to Yoongi, shoving one hand inside his pocket, “didn’t know which one you’d like.”

“But you got so many,” Yoongi hugs himself, his hair damp and falling over his eyes. “That might have been a waste of money considering how you also got all those desserts.”

“Come here,” Seokjin smiles and drops the packet back on the nightstand by the time Yoongi walks around the bed to stand in front of him, “how do you know we won’t need all of them?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes first, but he composes himself quickly. “Are you planning on venting all your sexual frustrations on me?”

Laying the towel on the chair by his study table, Seokjin combs Yoongi’s hair with his fingers, swiping the bangs to a side away from his face, exposing his forehead. Then he cups Yoongi’s face and kisses him right between his eyebrows.

“I’m sure we can finish them all if we put our mind to it.” Seokjin’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“Scandalous, unbelievable,” Yoongi looks up at him in disbelief.

Tipping Yoongi’s chip, Seokjin tilts his head and leaves a butterfly kiss on his lips. “What’s so scandalous about finishing the desserts?”

“What?”

“I was talking about the desserts, Yoongi, what did you think?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to answer, but Seokjin doesn’t let him. He’s greedy and inserts his tongue right into Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi reciprocated almost immediately, pulling him close and crossing his arms behind Seokjin’s neck.

And this is something Seokjin has thought about a hundred times before, kissing Yoongi in his own bedroom before it leads to something more. But none of his imaginations compares to the reality of it, feeling Yoongi’s damp skin flushed against his own, smelling his own shampoo in Yoongi’s hair, wearing his clothes. Tasting his now familiar lips.

Seokjin’s hands have a mind of their own, sliding down his body and digging into Yoongi’s waist. Their teeth clatter together, slow but determined knowing exactly where this is going to end up in.

Instead of pushing Yoongi down on his bed, Seokjin hoists him up by his thighs until Yoongi has to wrap his legs around his waist to stop himself from falling over. The kiss breaks for a moment as Yoongi frowns down at him in confusion. And Seokjin doesn’t resume the kiss. He latches on to Yoongi’s neck instead, licking and nipping at the skin right above his collarbone and carries him out of the room.

Yoongi’s moans sound heavenly as Seokjin increases the force of his bite, but still not as much as the tug on his hair feels. Yoongi is clutching the hair on Seokjin’s nape for dear life, his ankles wriggling behind Seokjin’s back.

In the very deep, dark trenches of his mind, Seokjin knows this is going to be the end of him. Once he gets a taste of Yoongi, nothing will ever compare. He’s ruining himself for everything else that is to come, he’s destroying his chances of ever feeling anything even remotely close to what he does for Yoongi.

Seokjin has him now, in his arms, carrying him to the kitchen and dropping Yoongi on the kitchen counter. But not for long.

Letting go of his neck, Seokjin tries to gather himself. Listening to Yoongi’s heavy breaths falling on his own ringing ears, it is turning out to be extremely difficult to. He’s standing in between Yoongi’s legs and he can feel himself starting to tick down there.

He feels Yoongi intertwining his fingers in the hair at the front. Not harshly, and maybe not even sexual. But it is very tender, very soft, very very gentle, as Yoongi tugs them lightly and it sheds off a bit of the stress even Seokjin hadn’t realized he was under.

“I may have forgotten to mention that I bruise very easily,” Yoongi mutters.

Seokjin looks up to see Yoongi pressing a finger to the spot Seokjin bit on his neck, already turning a bruising maroon. “I’m sorry. Is this going to be an issue?”

“Not if I cover them up.”

Seokjin pries Yoongi’s hand away and uncovers the mark fully, then presses his lips on it before licking it once. The hands that were resting on Yoongi’s knees now slowly slide up his thighs, then around his waist and up his body. Seokjin’s stray hands find themselves undoing the first button of Yoongi’s shirt, his shirt.

“Does this mean everything hidden under the clothes is fair game?”

Yoongi shivers when Seokjin’s breath tickles his neck, Seokjin feels it everywhere they are touching. Yoongi wraps his legs even more tightly around Seokjin’s waist, pressing one of his ankles on his tailbone to pull him closer.

“And if I leave some on you in retaliation?” Yoongi drawls right by his ear. And this time Seokjin shivers. “What would your fiance say when she finds them?”

“If she finds them.”

“Won’t she know?”

“I’d let her know.”

The second button comes off, Seokjin traces his tongue along the exposed skin on Yoongi’s pale, pale chest. Leaving a trail of small, tiny, red bite marks. Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said he bruises easily. Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the first time. It’s only when the third button is undone and Seokjin bites another patch of his skin, that Yoongi grabs onto his chin and pulls him up until he catches Seokjin’s bottom lips into his mouth.

There is something about the way Yoongi kisses him, nothing rushed about it, nothing hungry. Yoongi is patient, slow, quiet. But the way he moves his tongue inside Seokjin’s mouth, sensually grazing it lightly all over- it turns Seokjin on, blazes the entirety of his insides so much so that he fears he might come in his pants untouched.

His hands shoot up to grab Yoongi’s jaw, prying him away. But Yoongi has a death grip on Seokjin’s bottom lip with his teeth, and it hurts every second Seokjin spends trying to pull him apart. When Yoongi finally lets him go, Seokjin feels the salty, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. And Seokjin lets him go as well, his hand prints glowering red on Yoongi’s face.

“Sorry about your lips.” Yoongi breathes out.

Seokjin rests his head on Yoongi’s collarbone. “Sorry about your face.”

Yoongi slowly unwraps his legs and Seokjin gives him some room to slide down and stand in front of him, back at their usual height difference. But Seokjin keeps holding on to the edge of the counter on both sides of Yoongi’s waist, trapping him in.

This time, Yoongi slides his hands up Seokjin’s chest and starts undoing his buttons. Seokjin reaches down, trying to catch his lips. But Yoongi turns his face at the last minute and Seokjin ends up dropping a kiss on his cheeks. And Seokjin doesn’t complain, not at all. He kisses and licks his cheek just the same, soothing the angry hand prints on his face and then traveling sideways and licking the shell of Yoongi’s ear.

Yoongi stops at the third button, reaches up and grabs Seokjin’s neck to stop him.

“Wait, stop. Calm down,” Yoongi breathes out.

“Really?” Seokjin straightens up and raises a questioning eyebrow, “you want me to calm down?”

“I just remembered Taehyung lives with you.”

Seokjin goes back to Yoongi’s neck, pressing him against the edge of the counter. “Didn’t cross your mind when you walked in?”

“I think your horny spirits possessed me for a bit there.” Yoongi pushes his head back when Seokjin moves on to the center of his throat. And Seokjin smiles against his skin.

Seokjin presses in, sneaking both of his hands underneath the shirt Yoongi’s wearing, feeling the warmth of his raw skin. He wants to feel more of his parts raw. Yoongi raises one of his ankles up Seokjin’s leg, as Seokjin starts bending him backwards until Yoongi is lying on top of the counter. Hands under his shirt. Seokjin moves up again, slotting their mouths together and shoving his tongue deep down Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi wraps his legs back around Seokjin’s waist.

They could be fucking here like this, on the kitchen counter. Seokjin wants to. He wants to strip Yoongi off his clothes and push right inside him. But the kitchen is not the place he wants to have their first time in. Maybe they’ll fuck here the second time, or the third.

The thought tricks his mind. As he feels himself pulling Yoongi and pressing his hardening crotch against Yoongi’s equally hard one. Yoongi mewls underneath him, his nails dig into Seokjin’s exposed shoulder, the shirt hanging off. Seokjin himself groans as he humps Yoongi dry like a horny teenager, desperate to take the edge off.

Yoongi rests his hand on Seokjin’s chest, turns his face sideways until the kiss breaks. But Seokjin isn’t paying any heed, he’s back to biting the skin under his ears. Yoongi shoves him once, twice, thrice- and Seokjin has had enough of it. Grabbing both of his wrists, Seokjin pins Yoongi’s hands on the counter.

“What?” Seokjin breathes into Yoongi’s skin.

“It’s just. We should be cautious. Taehyung might walk in on us at any moment.”

“And what if he does?” Seokjin can’t help the tug of his lips. “Don’t want him to see you like this?”

“Yah, yah,” a light chuckle rips through Yoongi, sounding breathless and scrumptious. “Do you want him to see me like this?”

And honestly, Seokjin wasn’t prepared to hear that. Just the thought of…not only Taehyung, but anyone else in this goddamn world seeing Yoongi like this, this half fucked-out expression on his face, red and wanton, veins thrumming with desire and lust- it cooks up an ugly feeling inside his stomach. He’s jealous of something that hasn’t happened yet, but will eventually.

He’s truly fucked.

When Yoongi realizes Seokjin has gone lax, he easily pushes him off. Seokjin backs off and lets Yoongi hop off the counter, quickly reaching up and buttoning his shirt back. Once he’s done, he moves on to button Seokjin’s shirt too.

Seokjin holds his hands when he’s done, turns them and kisses the insides of his wrists. He wants to repeat every action a thousand times, overdo everything for Yoongi. Because he won’t get these chances ever again. So he has to make it all count.

“Taehyungie isn’t home,” Seokjin tells him, kissing Yoongi’s knuckles, his fingers, his palms, the back of his hands.

“He might be back soon.”

“He won’t be back until the morning,” Seokjin caresses his face, “we’re good.”

Yoongi exhales and rests his head on Seokjin’s chest, seemingly coming off of the high. Seokjin wraps his arms around his shoulders as Yoongi holds onto his shirt. It’s suddenly quiet in the kitchen, except for the muffled sound of traffic wafting through the open kitchen window. Absent-mindedly, Seokjin hums a random tune, a love song he used to sing at the restaurant he worked part-time in. When he hadn’t known Yoongi lived in the same city, couldn’t know someone like Yoongi could exist in his lifetime.

Seokjin sways Yoongi side to side, burying his fingers in his hair.

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin says, “if you had a time machine, would you go to the past or the future?”

Yoongi mutters in his chest, “if you asked me any other time, I’d say the future. When I’m rich and successful, and Jeongguk is all grown up so I can retire and he can take care of me.”

Seokjin chuckles, resting his chin on Yoongi’s head. “You could stay with me and you’d be rich and I’d help you be successful and we could take care of Jeongguk together until we’re old and retired.”

“Thought you didn’t want to raise children.”

“I wouldn’t mind if I could raise one with you.” He kisses Yoongi’s temple, “but what would be your answer to the time machine question if I asked you now? Past or the future?”

“Neither,” Yoongi’s grip on his shirt tightens, “I’d stay here right at this moment.”

“Careful, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin teases him, the smile on his face inevitable. But it’s nothing compared to the ache in his chest. “I’d start thinking you’re in love with me.”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he chuckles back, “as if.”

“As if,” Seokjin repeats, looking up at the clock on the wall. The seconds hand tick away, and if he focuses, so does the minute hand.

He looks down at Yoongi the moment Yoongi looks up. Seokjin wants to kiss him again, he wants to kiss Yoongi all the time. If he could, he would handcuff Yoongi to himself, show him and his art off to the world.

Standing on his tip toes, Yoongi kisses him softly and Seokjin kisses him back right away, just as gently. He turns Yoongi around, holds the back of his head and slowly presses his up against the refrigerator, as though he’s so delicate he could break at any contact. Yoongi groans, just a little and Seokjin stops kissing him, looks at him with concern in his eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Your fridge magnets.”

Seokjin swipes them all with one swift motion, the colourful magnets he’d collected over the years dropping on the floor with loud clangs. Yoongi is replacing the magnets now, back stuck against the fridge and Seokjin pressing up against him. He catches Yoongi’s eyes fluttering down at his lips, then slides up his nose and meets his gaze again.

“Is it better now?”

Seokjin feels Yoongi’s hands start to hover around his waistband as Yoongi nods, “much.”

“I can’t see you in pain, you know that?” Seokjin whispers, “if you ever need any kind of help, please just come to me. My doors will always be open for you.”

His heart sinks when Yoongi doesn’t answer, but Yoongi compensates by kissing him again. This time, it’s Yoongi’s hands that slide under Seokjin’s shirt as he pulls him close. The warmth of his hands heating up Seokjin’s ears, his senses. It almost feels like drowning, the way Yoongi nips his already cut and bruised lips, hurting him where it pains him the most.

The tongue comes next, that soft and mellow teasing inside his mouth, almost like a slow and sensual fucking. But not exactly, something close, teasing. Yoongi unbuttons Seokjin’s shirt first, letting it hang and then unbuttoning his own. The red marks Seokjin had left earlier glowering back at him.

Seokjin kisses Yoongi’s forehead, both of his eyes, his chin, the center of his throat- and slides his tongue down his chest, stopping to bite and suck on one of Yoongi’s nipples, teasing the other. The sounds Yoongi makes are obscene, scandalous, as he keeps choking on his own breath every now and then Seokjin bites and pinches them hard. Yoongi grabs on to his hair, guiding him where he wants him the most and keeps pulling him close.

And when Seokjin slides down and stands on his knees, Yoongi’s clothes come down with him. First the pants, and then the underwear. Seokjin does not hesitate, wrapping his long fingers around the entirety of Yoongi’s length, as Yoongi bites his own lip to hold back a moan. Seokjin slides his hand back and forth, using Yoongi’s precum as lube for the time being.

He can see and physically feel Yoongi’s knees start to wobble, his hands searching for something to grab on and settling back in Seokjin’s hair when he finds nothing else. Seokjin laughs.

“Is this something you would want me to do? Want me to suck you dry?” Seokjin asks, teasingly, looking up at Yoongi struggling to form words. He brings his tongue out and licks at the tip, hearing Yoongi inhale sharply. “Yoongi?”

“Won’t you-” Yoongi’s cut off again when Seokjin wraps his mouth around his tip and sucks, lapping his tongue all over, spreading the precum and saliva indiscriminately. “Fuck me dry instead?”

Seokjin lets him free, uses his hand to cover his entire length with the liquid, then blowing on it and grazes his nails along the sides.

“Don’t come then.”

And that’s all the warning he gives Yoongi before he takes all of him in. Yoongi lets out the loudest moan Seokjin’s ever heard, both of Yoongi’s hands now digging into his skull. His knees are still shaking against the fridge, so Seokjin takes some mercy and puts one of Yoongi’s legs over his own shoulder and Yoongi digs his heel on Seokjin’s back.

Seokjin sucks slow at first, achingly slow. And he can sense Yoongi getting impatient when he feels him rutting his hip into his mouth. Seokjin groans in warning and Yoongi lets out a- “shit, hyung. Sorry.”

Seokjin reaches up to grab onto Yoongi’s hips, pushing them against the fridge as much as he can. And when it proves to be difficult to sustain, he presses a hand against Yoongi’s tummy and holds at the base with the other as he sucks all over and comes back to lick at his tip.

Yoongi keeps groaning, pulling at his hair and desperately trying to hold himself back and simultaneously chasing the high. He occasionally moans his name and Seokjin has to remind himself to not turn Yoongi around and fuck him raw right here and now.

It isn’t Seokjin who stops. It’s Yoongi who pulls Seokjin’s head away and springs himself free. His legs slide off at the side. Seokjin doesn’t understand at first, but then Yoongi slides down the fridge and sits on the floor in front of him, knees curling to his chest.

“Too much?” Seokjin asks anyway, a hint of a smile on his face.

“One more second and I’d have come down on your throat.” Yoongi breathes out. He’s sweating all over. Yoongi drops his knees flat on the floor, palm pressed on the floor to keep himself balanced.

“My pretty sweetheart,” Seokjin wipes the sweat off Yoongi’s forehead before Yoongi drops his head on his shoulder and breathes. Seokjin is still fully clothed, but Yoongi is almost naked barring Seokjin’s loose, oversized clothes drowning the upper half of his body. Sitting on the kitchen floor, Seokjin glides his hands over Yoongi’s tummy, his chest, and then slips Yoongi’s shirt over his shoulders. The shirt bunches around Yoongi, stopping at his wrists.

Yoongi is…mesmerzing, beautiful like the moon itself. Pale and soft looking milkskin, a porcelain finish with blush pink sprinkled on all the right places. But he looks a tad unkempt now, all because of Seokjin himself. Bite marks adorn his entire body like ornate rubies, concentrated red here and there. Teeth marks etched at the edge of his nipples.

Seokjin doesn’t hold it in any longer. Can’t.

Aggressive is the way he crashes his mouth onto Yoongi’s and pushes him back on the floor. He parts, balancing himself with a hand right beside Yoongi’s head. Yoongi looks up at him with wide eyes. Lips bitten red and swollen. Seokjin knows his is much worse, sticky saliva and precum drying down his chin. Seokjin feels like a hungry animal, a fucking caveman whose only instinct is possession.

Mine, mine, mine.

But then there’s the logical counterpart in him that’s telling him otherwise. The heavy weight on his chest keeps growing as the second hand keeps ticking away. The night growing darker until the first light breaks through.

“Seokjin hyung?”

Seokjin kisses him for the nth time tonight, hungry and never satiated. Aching all over but without a stop sign in sight. Yoongi’s hands cross behind Seokjin’s neck as he pulls him down.

When he parts, he pulls Yoongi up with him, looking like a complete mess. Both of them. Seokjin ignores all the fridge magnets lying down on the floor as he helps Yoongi stand up, he has no time to pay any heed to them. Without any more word, Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s wrist and pulls him towards his bedroom.

Seokjin locks the door when he closes it behind him.

Yoongi stands awkwardly in the middle of his bedroom, pulling Seokjin’s oversized shirt around his body to protect himself from the cold. Seokjin walks towards him and hugs him from the back, wrapping his arms around Yoongi and kissing the crook of his neck.

Then he turns Yoongi around towards the nightstand.

He licks at the shell of Yoongi’s ear, a hand gliding down his chest and settling on his tummy, “have you made up your mind about which one you want me to use on you?”

Yoongi sighs, his mouth involuntarily hanging open. “I don’t like any of them.”

Seokjin slips a hand inside Yoongi’s collar, pulls it up and off Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi doesn’t protest and lets it fall down on the floor and pool around his feet, now completely naked against Seokjin.

“Really now?” Seokjin hums, biting on Yoongi’s now exposed shoulder. Yoongi exhales again, especially hard when Seokjin digs his fingers into his waist.

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes out, “I told you it was a waste of your fucking money.”

Yoongi is thrown on the mattress first, as it dips under his weight. Then Seokjin climbs on top of him, putting all of his weight over Yoongi.

“Are you sure, Yoongi?” Seokjin asks him again just to confirm, caressing his face with the back of his fingers.

Yoongi nods, “I know you haven’t gotten laid in an eternity.”

Seokjin leans down, kisses the corner of his mouth. “What about you?”

He feels Yoongi’s hands start to take the shirt off Seokjin’s body, “don’t really have the time anymore.”

So Seokjin goes straight for the bottle of lube.

This is it, Seokjin thinks, when he rubs and warms an obscene amount of lube in his fingers, bends Yoongi’s legs up to his chest, practically folding him in half. He’s achingly hard, and has been since humping Yoongi in the kitchen. And he’s finally in the reality where this is actually happening.

He’s going to fuck Yoongi’s brains out.

“Look at me.” Seokjin asks Yoongi, grazing the lube all over with his fingers. And when Yoongi does, his eyes look glazed over.

Seokjin watches Yoongi’s mouth fall open as he pushes a finger in. “Does it hurt?” He asks. “You’d tell me if it hurts, right?” Yoongi only nods. “Words, Yoongi.”

“Yes, fuck. Yes hyung,” Yoongi’s voice comes out raspy as hell.

Once he’s done stretching him with one finger, he adds in the second one, which Yoongi takes pretty well without any complaints. And only upon Yoongi’s own insisting, Seokjin adds a third finger sooner than he intended to.

And Yoongi lets out a stinging hiss when Seokjin pushes the third finger inside him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Seokjin scrambles, almost pulling his fingers away. And then Yoongi reaches down and stops him, holding his hand down where they are.

“Do not…fucking…pull out.” Yoongi grits his teeth, guiding Seokjin’s fingers back where they were, hissing as they hit the right spots. “I’m not a fucking virgin.”

It makes Seokjin chuckle, despite himself. He tests and teases Yoongi, bringing out delicious moans out of his mouth along with colourful curses. Seokjin curls his fingers inside and Yoongi chokes on his own spit.

“Fuck, hyung. Haven’t you had enough fun?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer, instead he sits back down and without any warning, puts all of Yoongi’s length inside his mouth. Yoongi lets out a string of curses, pulling on Seokjin’s hair until his scalp starts hurting. And only after a lot of tossing and turning, he successfully manages to pry Seokjin away.

It effectively forces Seokjin to pull his fingers out.

Yoongi sits up and leans back on the headboard, lube leaking out from under him and soiling the bed. Seokjin wipes his fingers on the bedsheet first, then he reaches out to grab Yoongi’s ankle, pulling him back down until he’s lying down again before he climbs on top of him.

“Won’t you fuck me?” Yoongi exhales right before Seokjin grabs his mouth and kisses him slowly. He tilts his head when he parts. “You keep teasing me but when will you actually fuck me?”

“What’s the hurry?”

“You promised.”

“Then ask me nicely.”

Yoongi’s fingers snake around his neck and tangle in the hair at his nape, pulling him close until his lips are only a hair’s breadth away.

“Seokjin hyung,” he whispers, hisses, “fuck me please. Hard. Senseless.”

And Seokjin could never say no to Yoongi.

So Seokjin does. He pushes inside Yoongi in one swift motion and watches Yoongi’s mouth falling open, moaning loudly. Seokjin screws his eyes shut at the sensation of Yoongi’s raw skin enveloping him whole, covering his length in the heat as Seokjin’s knees struggle to hold up.

Seokjin moves down for balance, kisses his moans away, drinks it all up as he lets Yoongi get used to him. It takes Yoongi a while to adjust, because Seokjin is girthy and big and Yoongi hasn’t been fucked in a long time.

His walls are tight around him, so much so that it hurts Seokjin a little when he tries to move.

“You’re very tight,” Seokjin blurts out, pulling out half and thrusting back inside Yoongi slowly.

Yoongi bends his knees up to his chest. “Sorry.”

Seokjin chuckles against his mouth, “how many times do I have to tell you not to apologize to me, hm?” He slides out, then thrusts back in again. Repeats the action several times.

“But you’re hurting.”

He kisses Yoongi’s chin, then licks up his cheek, “so are you, cupcake.”

Yoongi gasps when Seokjin thrusts particularly hard, “it’s starting to feel good.”

“Should leave it up to me,” Seokjin smirks against his cheek, “I’ll make you loose.”

Slowly but surely, Seokjin quickens his pace. Adds in more lube when necessary. But soon enough, the thrusts become smoother, the slide easier and certainly more pleasant. Seokjin loves hearing Yoongi mewling under him. His tough exterior unraveling, threads coming undone one push at a time.

Yoongi warns him first, with a loud cry, when Seokjin wraps a lubed hand around him and aligns both of his strokes. He spills all over his own chest and Seokjin dips one hand in the hot liquid and slides his hand up until he’s grabbing Yoongi’s throat.

It doesn’t take Seokjin that long before he follows suit, seeing Yoongi’s fucked out expression under him, because of him. Seokjin comes inside Yoongi without hesitation, or regret. Feeling all the stress and inhibition in his body spilling out of him in the process. Yoongi pulls him down and kisses him square on the mouth with ragged breaths.

The second time they fuck, Yoongi rides him as Seokjin sucks on his nipples hard until the skin around them is red. He doesn’t even bother asking Yoongi if he’d like to use a condom he so lovingly bought with his pleasure in mind. Yoongi pulls himself away when Seokjin is close to coming and sucks the soul out of him the rest of the way. Seokjin starts seeing stars when Yoongi swallows everything and sits back on his lap to kiss him again. Using the opportunity to his advantage, Yoongi ruts against Seokjin's lower abdomen before Seokjin comes back to his senses and sucks him back with three fingers up inside him.

The third time, Seokjin has him pressed against his locked door. He wanted to have a quick shower with Yoongi to clean themselves up after they talked for a while. Then Yoongi stood up and started asking questions about the books on Seokjin’s table. And Seokjin followed him, pressing him up against the door instead of answering when he promised to help Yoongi shower. He has Yoongi’s face pressed against the door, grabbing both of Yoongi’s wrists together behind his back as he keeps pushing in and pulls out before spilling all over Yoongi’s ass and the back of his knees.

And the fourth time, they’re back in the kitchen and Seokjin finally fucks Yoongi on the kitchen counter after they’ve just finished half of the cakes he bought from the bakery. They just had a quick shower again, and it was Yoongi’s fault for absentmindedly licking his fingers in a suggestive way. Truth be told, Seokjin was not planning to have sex with him on the kitchen counter. Nope. Totally not at all. But Yoongi wasn’t wearing any pants and a piece of the brownie accidentally fell on his naked thighs and Seokjin thought it was a good idea to lick it off instead. Then it escalated from there. Because who knew Yoongi has sensitive thighs too? Not him.

So his not-dream of fucking Yoongi on the kitchen counter comes true. Seokjin fucks him in his shirt, makes Yoongi scream out both in pleasure and in pain. He’s more loose on the fourth time, the slide is easier. But they’re both spent already and Yoongi complains about it stinging but asks Seokjin not to stop even though it hurts. And it’s like the orgasm rips out of their souls with a loud cry, not as much spilling, but Yoongi writhes under his weight on the counter as Seokjin’s knees give out.

Yoongi pulls him back up to him as Seokjin rests his head on his collarbone, breathing so heavy his lungs start burning.

High. Elated. Dreamlike.

But never truly enough.

It only hits him when he tucks Yoongi in, wrapped around in Seokjin’s blanket shaped like a cocoon. In the cold weather after the storm, Seokjin scoots closer to him for warmth, kissing his forehead before lying down beside him.

Yoongi falls asleep slowly and quietly; face buried in Seokjin’s chest, his breath evening out as time keeps passing and Seokjin eventually begins to lose his fight against the sunrise.

Seokjin doesn’t sleep a wink, he is not sleepy. Not even close. He spends seconds, moments, fragmented minutes pressing his lips on Yoongi’s forehead and screwing his eyes shut hoping to never wake up from this dream.

But sleep doesn’t come to him. Yoongi starts snoring lightly at some point in the night. Seokjin kisses his button nose, leaves butterfly touches on his slightly parted, sleepy lips. He stares at his soft features, the blush-rose hue, swollen lips, bruises on his neck peaking out under the blanket. Seokjin keeps staring at him like the shameless man that he is, because he knows not what else to do to memorize him. Even if he ever suffers from dementia and loses himself to the disease, he hopes he never forgets about Yoongi.

His tiny little secret. His heart, his moonlight. His whole life.

Failing miserably to fall asleep, Seokjin finds himself alone in the kitchen, feeling like a ghost, looking like a storm has passed through his house, as Yoongi sleeps peacefully in his room. He opens the window first, the cold air filling his lungs as he lights a cigarette. Then pours himself a glass of whiskey. Seokjin was never a lightweight, he can drink his weight and still stand straight like twelve o’clock. But this time, he only manages four sips before he breaks down. The ashes from his cigarette stick to his cheek as the tears fall.

After he leaves, Seokjin is never going to see Yoongi again, just the shadow of his ghost in Jeongguk every now and then. He’s lived a trial period of Yoongi ignoring him, acting like he doesn’t exist and Seokjin cannot even begin to fathom what the rest of his life is going to be like without him in it. No one else makes his heart beat as fast as Yoongi does, no one else makes his breath hitch.

Nothing else in this world makes him want to live.

Seokjin washes his face on the kitchen sink, feeling like he’s reached the basement of his rock bottom.

He walks back to his room after five in the morning, startling as he finds Min Yoongi sitting up on his bed wearing his own clothes.

“I woke up and you were gone,” Yoongi mutters, but the morning is quiet enough that Seokjin hears everything. It’s still dark outside, but it’s not long until dawn. He looks up at Seokjin and smiles, “you look like hell.”

Seokjin walks around the bed to sit down beside him, “did you sleep well?”

Yoongi looks down at his hands, “not really.”

As the chirping of the birds begin to crack through the quietness of the night, Seokjin tips Yoongi’s chin and kisses him slow. “I haven’t slept at all.”

Yoongi kisses him back for a moment, “you taste like cigarettes. And something like-”

“Whiskey.”

“You were drinking alone, hyung?”

Ashamed, Seokjin looks down and takes Yoongi’s hand, nods.

“I’m not feeling well, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi pulls Seokjin close to him by the neck and kisses him, deep and aching as the deep blue of the sky starts to lighten up. Time has run out, but Yoongi grabs onto his shirt as though he’s hanging onto the last thread to keep his tapestry from fully shredding.

“Anything you want me to do?”

And Seokjin himself, he can’t keep the tears from escaping the bounds of his lashes. Yoongi’s thumbs come up to wipe them away as Seokjin’s lips quiver. “Just hold me for a while.”

Yoongi blinks at him first before he complies, resting his chin on Seokjin’s shoulder for some time before he kisses him again.

“I should go,” Yoongi declares against his lips, “it’s almost sunrise.”

The breath Seokjin takes is wet, his sniffles heavy as he nods, “how would you go home now?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

Seokjin shakes his head, “there’s no way I’m not dropping you home.”

The ride to Yoongi’s tiny rooftop apartment is quiet, but Seokjin doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hand, not wanting to waste even a single second they have together. And only when he parks the car in front of Yoongi’s building, Yoongi starts to pry his hand away.

They sit like that for who knows how long, looking straight ahead at the city slowly starting to wake up. Neither of them say anything, as Seokjin is the first to shake himself awake and get out of the car. He slams the door shut, leaning his head against the hood desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat. But to no avail.

He feels like he’s being skinned alive and then thrown into a fire pit, burned until he’s charred all over.

When Yoongi doesn’t come out, he walks around the car and opens the passenger’s door. And that’s when he sees Yoongi wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Seokjin’s heart sinks to his stomach, melts like lava and burns through his entire body. His veins, his lungs, up his throat.

“Yoongi,” he calls out, “Yoongi, my love, come here.”

Yoongi hops out as Seokjin holds him by the wrists and embraces him. Seokjin pulls him as close as he can, wanting his chest to crack open and make a big room for him. Yoongi rests his chin on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I can’t see you like this.” Seokjin inhales sharply, pressing his lips on his temple. “God, Yoongi, I can’t let you go like this.”

“I’m not crying, I’m fine,” Yoongi breathes out heavily and Seokjin can feel his tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. But his voice is steady. “Something just got in my eyes.”

Against the first light, at the break of dawn, when the darkness washes away and the light envelops the godforsaken world, Seokjin buries his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and pries him away, cups his face and wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. Kisses his eyes and his forehead and his temple and the tip of his nose.

Against the storm-struck city and at the genesis of a new day, Seokjin finally has a name for the assortment of feelings that whirls up in his stomach, threatening to overspill.

“I love you,” Seokjin finally, finally admits to Yoongi, even to himself. “I love you,” he repeats, starting to feel the addiction calcifying inside, one he won’t ever get rid of, one he can’t replace, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Yoongi’s breath audibly hitches, his grip on Seokjin’s shirt tightens. “I won’t say it back. You know I won’t.”

Seokjin simply nods, this is his burden alone. “Do not think for a second that all I ever wanted was to make love to you.”

“Is that what we did?” Yoongi whispers but Seokjin can feel the tug of his lips.

“Mhm,” Seokjin smiles back, staring ahead at the sunrise, “there’s not a world, not a parallel timeline where I don’t love you. Not a chance where I see you for the first time and do not fall for you. I wanted to live in a world where I go back home to you covered in your paint, where I wake up to your sleepy face everyday in the morning and I raise your child with you and send him off to art school, where I’m there to witness you freaking out over your first grey hair in front of our mirror in our shared apartment. You may not feel the same way about me. And that’s okay,” Seokjin’s vision goes blurry in the end, hurting, “I love you enough to make up for the both of us.”

“Maybe in that world you speak of, I do say it back every day.” He feels Yoongi loosen his hold on his shirt, slipping away from his fingers. Yoongi takes a few steps back, mirroring his smile just the same, moving his head left and right, “just not in this one, Seokjin hyung. Not like this.”

Seokjin’s last contact with Yoongi severs as their fingers graze against each other for one last time.

A small laugh breaks through him, “am I too much of a lost cause in this one?”

Yoongi shoves his hands inside his pocket, blinking, eyes red, and shrugs. “Just a little, for sure.”

Seokjin leans sideways against his car, “come visit me with Jeongguk sometimes.”

Yoongi keeps backing away, “no promises.”

“I’ll think of you every day, Min Yoongi.” Seokjin calls as Yoongi starts to turn away, “very dearly and fondly.”

Yoongi stops, gives him a lopsided smile, “bye hyung. Thank you for everything.”

Seokjin doesn’t say it back, watching as Yoongi turns around and walks away, leaving him stranded in his island all alone, the one he can’t escape. And the emptiness inside him expands, the darkness thickens until there is nothing but pitch black waiting to engulf him whole as Yoongi disappears and he gets inside his car and returns to the original state of his life. Bursting away from this bubble.

When he returns, he finds Taehyung standing in the middle of his living room, looking around at the mess dumbfoundedly. And Seokjin doesn’t know what comes over him, but he storms inside and hugs his little brother, wailing in his shoulder until his lungs give out.

***

There should be a limit to Kim Seokjin’s disgust for someone, but his hatred for Song Jiyoo knows no bounds.

Even at the exhibition of her cousin, Song Hyunwoo, Jiyoo couldn’t stop herself from stealing his thunder and making it about herself. She’s got an arm around Seokjin’s elbow, waving and conversing with people and announcing their engagement to anyone who stops to listen.

“The least you could do is smile,” Jiyoo grits her teeth, but plasters a fake smile the moment her uncle passes them by. “Not to me but at least to the elders.”

“Can’t bother.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Jiyoo looks up at him. “You have been acting like a ghost for the past couple of days.”

Seokjin stares away at…something people call art. It’s a huge rectangle made up of tiny, colourful squares. He’s not sure what it’s supposed to mean. Nothing, something, the disarrayed state of his life. Hyunwoo’s exhibition is of anything but interest to him. Abstract isn’t his thing, much less contemporary abstract. He’s pretty sure he saw Hyunwoo excitedly spewing pseudo-intellectual bullshit about two blue lines on a white background he swears took him two months to finish.

His gaze wanders, hooking onto Taehyung who’s standing at the corner talking to an old man who laughs like he owns several mansions in the French countryside. Taehyung flicks his eyes at him every now and then, checking to make sure Seokjin is still here, still present, still alive.

“I can’t believe you dragged him here as well,” Jiyoo’s voice shrieks from the side when she follows his gaze. “Doesn’t he have a life of his own?”

Seokjin tries to pry his hand away, but Jiyoo doesn’t let go. “If we’re going to get married then you’ll have to get used to him as well. Deal with it.” Jiyoo just rolls her eyes and drags Seokjin to the next room.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to tag along, he wasn’t even invited in the first place. But as Seokjin was throwing on his casual maroon two piece, Taehyung peeked in to ask where he was headed. And upon learning his destination, Taehyung decided he should just come along without an invitation if only to piss Jiyoo off.

And Seokjin wasn’t gonna say no to him.

It pissed Jiyoo off alright. When she saw Seokjin getting out of the car with Taehyung in tow with a huge smirk on his face, she didn’t even try to hide her disappointment and annoyance. Jiyoo immediately latched on to Seokjin, taking a second to prepare a sharp jab at Taehyung. But Taehyung had other plans. He simply walked in without even acknowledging her. And Jiyoo hasn’t left Seokjin’s side since then.

Song Jiyoo pulls Seokjin into a much quieter room, at the corner of which is a painting covered with a large piece of white clothing. This painting is supposed to be why this exhibition was held in the first place. It’s a new piece Hyunwoo worked on which is supposed to be a big reveal.

“Hyunwoo has been going on and on about this for so long,” Jiyoo exhales when she makes them stop in front of the work. “I don’t understand what the big deal about all this is. It’s just a painting.”

Seokjin stares up at the white fabric, his head coming up with a blank. People who don’t understand art will never really learn to appreciate it. Not that Seokjin wants to defend Hyunwoo’s honour, that man is as snobbish as they get. But art is way more than a splash of colours on a canvas and he knows Jiyoo is not someone who will ever see the true value in them.

“Let’s go somewhere and sit,” it’s Seokjin who proposes, turning away from the piece and tagging Jiyoo along. Every bit of his arm that touches hers crawls, his shoulders hurt. He hasn’t slept properly in days, wasn’t able to eat any proper food. Seokjin has been surviving on water and cigarettes, but that’s because Taehyung took all the alcohol in his house and locked them all up in the guest room he’s staying at.

So Seokjin isn’t even able to drink the pain away.

“Sitting won’t help us socialize,” Jiyoo snorts but walks back to the main hall with Seokjin just the same. “Half of these people will be there at our engagement, Jin. You might want to get to know them all beforehand.”

There are too many people here for Seokjin’s liking, crawling like scorpions at a beach. They all smell like heavy, expensive perfume that’s making Seokjin’s head throb like crazy. In the end he finds himself an empty chair but it’s right in front of the bar. And Seokjin has a strict sanction to stay away from alcohol.

Jiyoo’s arm slips out of his when he sits down and asks for a glass of water instead of the alcohol they’re serving. The bartender gives him a questioning look before he nods and complies. Seokjin presses on the ache on his forehead and rests his elbow on the counter.

“You’re being so dramatic.” Jiyoo scoffs from the side. “So what if you didn’t have proper sleep? You're pretending as if you never had to pull all-nighters for work. You handle them quite well.”

Seokjin curls his fists on the counter and grits his teeth. Every word coming out of her mouth makes him want to reach out and clamp her mouth shut. Her voice shrieks in his ears, pricks on his skin.

“It’s not like I feel sick on purpose.”

The roll in her eyes is evident when she says, “just take an ibuprofen and call it a day. Geez, Jinnie, it’s not like you don’t know how to treat it.”

The headache expands, deepening into his skull. He rubs a hand over his face and turns to see Jiyoo standing with crossed arms and an irritated look on her face. “Once I get home.”

“It’s so convenient for you to fall sick right before our engagement, isn’t it?” Jiyoo scoffs again, this time narrowing her eyes in an accusatory way. “Are you trying to embarrass me in front of everyone? Is that what it is? You won’t greet people, won’t answer if anyone says hi. Are you doing this on purpose?”

The bartender comes back with a bottle of water and a glass. Seokjin takes the bottle and twists the cap to open it, pouring on the glass. “All I wanted was to rest for a while but you dragged me out here even though you knew I fell sick.” He takes a sip. “So don’t come to me complaining about not having a fucking smile on my face when I meet people I couldn’t give two shits about.”

Jiyoo’s mouth opens and closes. “They’re family.”

“Yours. Not mine.”

“Soon they will be yours too,” Jiyoo tilts her head, “is this about not wanting to get married again? Is that why you’re acting like this?”

Seokjin stares at the water in the glass, clear, rippled. Then looks at her sideways, “it’s always been about not wanting to marry you.”

This time Jiyoo doesn’t scoff, she flat out laughs, a sound Seokjin despises so much he’d rather lose his hearing than listen to it one more time. Jiyoo leans back against the counter and watches all the guests.

“Oh, how I’d hate to be you, Jin.” She drawls, “I, for one, cannot relate. I’m getting what I wanted all along.”

Seokjin grips the glass tighter, “are you really that happy to be marrying someone who couldn’t care less about you? Is that where your dignity has fallen?”

“Being with you? Not really.” Jiyoo plasters on a fake smile as she waves at someone in the distance. “We haven’t even been intimate with each other in a long while. I’m okay with that, for the most part,” she shrugs. “We haven’t made each other happy in ages. We’ll get to that when we start a family.”

Seokjin wants to throw up, even though he hasn’t eaten anything this morning.

Jiyoo grins at someone who seems to be coming closer to them, “but I love it when people look at us like we’re the perfect match for each other. Our dads get along, you match my status. We look good together and we’ll have the most beautiful babies. That’s all that matters to me.”

Song Jiyoo was always the perfect embodiment of materialism, Seokjin knew that from the start. He just didn’t plan on things to come this far until he found himself in this suffocating grip.

“And nothing for the peace of mind?” Seokjin finds himself asking weakly. “You don’t love me, I know that.”

Jiyoo snakes a hand up Seokjin’s arm and steps closer. “Since when do I care about love? You’re stuck with me, sure. But you can benefit from me too.” She gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, it never did. “Don’t forget who got you this job and who can get you promoted fast.” She tilts her head, “now smile, darling.”

A chill shoots throughout Seokjin’s body as he feels another presence behind him. He looks back over his shoulder, the old man in a really expensive suit walks over to them. And Seokjin almost slips from the tool when he tries to stand up fast, his head spinning a little.

“Dr. Song.” He bows.

“Hey dad,” Jiyoo chirps. “Having fun?”

The laugh Song Il-song laughs is deep, wrinkles dig deep in his skin. “Fun isn’t something we old people have. We enjoy.” Jiyoo rolls her eyes. Il-seong then turns to Seokjin at last, reaches out to pat his shoulder. “And how are you doing, son? You don’t look so good.”

Seokjin tries really hard to smile up at this soon to be father-in-law, but he fails to, ending up grimacing at the old man. “Haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.”

Song Il-seong hums from deep within his chest, examining Seokjin from head to toe before settling on his face again. “Must be the wedding jitters.”

Seokjin nods very slowly, “you’re right. Must be.”

Dr. Song doesn’t press him further and turns back to his daughter again. “Yiseo wants to meet you. Said you haven’t greeted her yet. Come and say hi.”

“Oh god I hate her so much.”

“Jiyoo.”

“Fine,” Jiyoo relents and tugs at Seokjin’s arm, “Jin, let’s go-”

“Ah, let him rest, honey,” Il-seong interrupts, carefully staring back at Seokjin. “Looks like he needs it.”

Jiyoo rolls her eyes again, “whatever.” And then she walks away.

Seokjin sighs a breath of relief, “thank you, Dr. Song.”

Dr. Song purses his lips tightly, “might wanna get used to calling me abeonim, don’t you think?”

He’s just so, so exhausted. But he nods anyway, says quietly, “I will.”

Dr. Song leaves him after that and Seokjin drops back on the tool, covering his face with his hands. Everything feels like a dream, like he’s experiencing his own life from a third person point of view, unable to make crucial decisions to go where he wants to go. He’ll get engaged to Jiyoo, get married some time in a month. And he’s looking forward to none of that. He hates it, hates everything, hates this fucking life-

“Hyung, you look like shit.”

Seokjin exhales into his hands, “not now, Taehyung.”

He feels Taehyung grabbing another tool and sitting right beside him, facing the entire room. “I’m so proud of you for ordering water instead of alcohol.”

He drops one hand, his head throbs. “I’m this close to drowning myself in beer.”

Taehyung takes some time to call the bartender asking for another bottle of water. And when it arrives he drinks straight from the bottle. Seokjin snorts at the entire ordeal. Leave it up to Taehyung to show these snobs the much deserved middle finger.

“You wouldn’t believe who I just ran into,” Taehyung says after some time. Seokjin grabs a handful of his own hair at the front and tugs.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Nope,” Taehyung leans back on the counter, “take a wild guess.”

“The prime minister of France.”

“Nah.”

“The ghost of Bing Crosby.”

“Hyung!” Taehyung laughs, “be serious.”

Seokjin feels his lips tugging, “your mother.”

Taehyung scrunches his nose as if Seokjin just forcefully took his chocolates from him. But he ends up laughing anyway. “You failed.”

“You did say I wouldn’t believe who it was,” Seokjin rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes. “So who was it?”

Taehyung purses his lips, looking at something ahead before putting the bottle down on the counter. Then he wipes his hands on his pants, reaches up to fix his hair absentmindedly.

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

Seokjin blinks. Once, twice. That is the last arrangement of names he’d be thinking would end up here in this place out of all. The chandelier swinging from the ceiling emits light throughout the room. A confused chill courses through all the veins in his body. Seokjin cannot think of a single reason why Jeon Jeongguk could be here, what he would be doing here. Surely not for an appointment with him.

“What? Who?” Seokjin finds himself asking, already straightening up in his seat.

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung looks at him then, tonguing his cheek. “Yoongi hyung’s brother.”

Seokjin’s jaws clench at the name, the pounding of his heart returns in full force and slams him against the wall. He stands up without evening meaning to, starting in a random direction before coming back to Taehyung.

“Where is he?” He asks, surprising himself by how calm his voice is. “What is he doing here?”

“I haven’t had the chance to ask,” Taehyung stands up as well. “I saw him from afar and had to go up to say hi. I think he was surprised to see me. But he was in a hurry to leave so I couldn’t ask more questions.” He runs a hand through his hair. “If Jeongguk was here, then there’s a chance that-”

“Yoongi is here too,” Seokjin finishes for him, feeling like his soul is being poured back into his body. All the nerves in his body suddenly wake up, the exhaustion leaving his consciousness and it’s as though Seokjin never had a headache to begin with. All of a sudden, he’s healed.

"Where is he?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “don’t know. I’m not sure if he is here at all. But if Jeongguk was, you know, there is a chance.”

Yoongi has to be here too. He wouldn’t let Jeongguk come to an exhibition of this calibre alone. Which is another mystery to him. Hyunwoo had sent out exclusive invitations for this exhibition. Taehyung is a different story. But one would need a special invitation to come here. Or, a special connection.

How did Jeongguk, or Yoongi, manage that?

Seokjin turns to go and search for him. If he’s here then he has to see him. There’s not a chance in this living hell that Seokjin is going to pass up an opportunity to meet him. As against as it is to their deal. Fuck that. If life has washed him ashore to Yoongi, then he’s going to take life up that challenge and meet it halfway.

“Hyung!”

Seokjin looks back over his shoulder to see Taehyung taking a step towards him.

“Be careful,” Taehyung warns, looking around, “people are watching you in this place.”

Seokjin scans the room they’re in first, no luck. Not a sign of Yoongi here. Then he moves on to the next. He sees vaguely familiar faces, passing him by in a blur. Trying to talk to him or get his attention, but Seokjin simply ignores them. He neither has the time nor the willingness.

The colours around him soften, fade and distort when he enters the relatively empty room in the center of the exhibition hall.

And Seokjin isn’t ready to see him. He wasn’t prepared to be slammed with this reality tonight all of a sudden. It’s like the universe is testing him on how much he can take until he starts screaming his lungs out and breaks. But he comes face to face with him anyway, on his own accord, because this is a pain he wants to feel. This is something he wants.

This is Min Yoongi after all.

Who is now standing slightly off-center of the room, wearing a simple beige shirt and black pants, hair a clean swipe away from his face. Seokjin forgets about everything else- where he is, why he’s here, who he’s here with, because even amidst all the artworks in the entire hall, Yoongi is the one Seokjin’s eyes are immediately drawn to.

And it looks like Yoongi is in a trance, like he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here. To be honest, neither does Seokjin. Out of all the possibilities he had thought of on where and when he could see Yoongi again, this was not in the list.

It's almost like a miracle, like he's on borrowed time. Seokjin steps closer to him, softly, quietly, like he doesn’t want this to be a dream. Like he’s afraid that if he hurries, then Yoongi will turn into stardust and slip through his fingers. But his hands are shaking, trembling and he’s shivering in anticipation.

Yoongi doesn’t see him, he probably doesn’t sense him either. And the forlorn, far away gaze Yoongi is sporting makes something flip in his stomach.

And Seokjin smiles, looking at him looking away, feeling like he just found his reason for living one more day. This is the first time since that morning that Seokjin feels a bit more relaxed, a bit more at ease. His stress and anxiety have diluted just at the sight of him. Everything else disappears.

He can’t hold it in, and a soft, disbelieving chuckle breaks through him.

“Min Yoongi.”

It brings Yoongi right out of his reverie.

Yoongi whips his head at him, eyes threatening to come out of their sockets. Seokjin watches as his mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out for the longest time. He is rendered speechless. The look on Yoongi’s face is an amalgamation of many things- disbelief, relief, caution, surprise. They all flicker through one by one, then all at once.

Only after a long moment of silently staring at each other does Yoongi finally regain his composure.

“Dr. Kim.”

Seokjin tries, he tries really hard not to let his eyes wander. But he can see a bit of the bruise right under Yoongi’s ear that he had so lovingly left. They still haven’t healed completely, as it seems. And yet, Yoongi has the gall to call him that. But he’s not going to question him, not now, not about this. Because he has many more important questions running through his mind at the moment.

“Have you been lying to me?” Seokjin asks in a non-accusatory tone. “Are you secretly a billionaire who gets invited to these fancy parties?”

Yoongi faces him completely, blinking slowly. But Seokjin notices his eyes quiver, and he avoids meeting his eyes. He looks up at Seokjin at last, opening his mouth to say something but then closes it again without a word.

So Seokjin asks again, “what are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s jaws clench, his gaze turning stone cold as he starts to walk past Seokjin in a hurry. “None of your business.”

Seokjin grabs his wrist and stops him. In front of the small number of people in the room, Yoongi startles at the action. But Seokjin doesn’t let go, he only pulls him back and makes him stand in front of him. Yoongi’s skin is warm at the wrist, his pulse running a mile a minute. The touch soothes some of that restlessness in him. But Seokjin is very, very confused.

“What are you doing here?” Seokjin repeats the question.

Yoongi tugs at first, but Seokjin doesn’t let go. Then Yoongi uses more force and yanks it away. “I told you, it’s none of your concern.”

“Why are you talking to me like that, Yoongi?”

“And why are you talking to me at all?” Yoongi looks around for something, someone. But all Seokjin notices is his sunken eyes, his pale lips and the evident blush on his face.

“You were the one who told me that nothing in this life is a coincidence,” Seokjin starts, “everything happens for a reason. So tell me why I wouldn’t want to talk to you after we stumble upon even though we decided we’re never going to see each other again?”

He watches as Yoongi screws his eyes shut, stunned silent at his own words. Yoongi runs a hand down his face.

“This isn’t…what are you doing here?”

“Song Hyunwoo is Jiyoo’s cousin.” Seokjin says, “so this is just a familial obligation.”

“Ah, fuck.” Yoongi curses, like this isn’t a turn of events he ever prepared for.

“Taehyung saw Jeongguk a while ago,” Seokjin tells him, “so I’m very confused, Yoongi. Why are you guys here?”

Exhaling loudly, Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Song Hyungwoo is sort of an acquaintance. We aren’t close by any means, but he’s one nonetheless. He invited us. Me actually. I just brought Jeongguk as my plus one."

The world is small. But Seokjin’s understanding is even smaller. Trying as he is, not a single conclusion as to how that might have happened comes to his mind. And he isn’t sure if he should downright ask Yoongi how he knows someone like Song Hyunwoo who only runs with the upperclass artists who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. In the end, he chooses not to bring that up.

“You could’ve just said that.”

“Right. Sorry.” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, clearly anxious as hell. “Look, we shouldn’t be seen here together. I gotta go. Bye.”

“Yoongi. Yoongi-”

This time, Yoongi practically runs past Seokjin before he can even blink. He spins around on his heels to stop him again but Yoongi is fast and he’s already at the corner of the room just when seemingly all the people from the entire exhibition hall pour into this one.

Seokjin finds himself in the middle of the ocean of people, frantically craning his neck around to see where Yoongi is. When he sees him standing at the very corner of the room, he tries to make a beeline towards him, quickening his pace to reach him to ask what the fuck is going on.

That’s when a hand on his elbow stops him.

“Jin?”

Anxiety comes crawling back, infesting the length of his spine. Seokjin turns back over to see Jiyoo giving him a questioning look.

“What are you doing? Who are you looking for?” Jiyoo asked with furrowed eyebrows. Seokjin tries to pull his elbow free, but Jiyoo’s long nails dig into him. “Jin?”

Seokjin gulps, his throat dries and constricts at the thought that he’s at the moment in his life where Yoongi and Jiyoo are in the same room. And he wants to break free from Jiyoo’s claws and crawl his way to his Yoongi, whose neck he can bury his face in and forget about everything else.

“Taehyung,” Seokjin rasps out, “I was looking for Taehyung.”

“Of course,” Jiyoo scoffs, pulling him away at the side.

And Seokjin is still confused about what’s going on, why all of these people are here. Until he realizes where he is and sees Hyunwoo entering the room with some equally snobbish looking people in tow.

It’s time for the big reveal of Song Hyunwoo’s new piece.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Jiyoo asks from the side. “You didn’t forget about this, did you?”

“No, I-” Seokjin trails off as his eyes catch movements in the corner. He sees Yoongi shuffling closer to the center of the room, seemingly to get a closer look at something. Seokjin forgets about Jiyoo, his vision closes in on Yoongi, following his steps, his movements, his gaze.

Tracing the line of his vision leads him to the wall, where Hyunwoo’s new piece is mounted and covered in white fabric. Hyunwoo is standing right in front of it, a wide smile on his face as he adjusts the small microphone on his collar.

“Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” Hyunwoo’s voice booms through the speakers, loud and clear. “We have all gathered here for a very special occasion. As all of you may already know by now, I believe as an artist, we should always strive to become a better version of ourselves. To take up as many challenges as possible. So when I picked up my paintbrushes, I asked myself- what journey should I take myself on this time?”

Hyunwoo pauses, letting the crowd anticipate. Seokjin flickers his gaze back towards Yoongi, who is standing very still, intently listening to every word coming out of Hyunwoo’s mouth.

“And I thought, there are so many stories I want to tell,” Hyunwoo starts again, “of my life, of how I was brought up and there’s so much in there that if I start to tell every one of them, I’d have a published biography by now. So I had to pick one, which I thought conveys the inner child in me the most. One that evoked the wild imaginations in the little boy that I once was.”

Hyunwoo smiles, all fake and pretentious and something turns inside Seokjin’s stomach. He whips his head at Yoongi again, and finds him staring back at him this time. Sharp, inquisitive eyes. It’s Yoongi who looks away first. And Seokjin follows his gaze again, that sinking feeling in his stomach only getting worse.

“So, without further ado, I present to you my greatest work till date, letting my imaginations run wild.”

Hyunwoo raises his hand and with one swift pull of the rope, the white fabric drops to the ground, revealing Song Hyunwoo’s new piece.

“By the way,” Hyunwoo draws the crowd’s attention once more, “I didn’t forget to give a very fitting name for this as well.”

A collective gasp courses through the crowd as the vibrant color almost blinds the perceiving eye, everyone has their eyes and mouths open.

Everyone except Seokjin. Because his hands automatically curl into a fist as he watches everything unfold in front of his eyes, as the crowd applauds and praises Hyunwoo for his exceptional new work, for taking up new challenges, going against his usual flow. But Seokjin’s entire world has stopped spinning.

It’s not awe, not anger that burns through him. It’s just pure, unadulterated disbelief and confusion at what he’s seeing. That this is real and it’s happening. It’s astonishing. It’s-

“Moon’s Children,” Seokjin whispers.

At the same time, Hyunwoo shouts into the mic, “Moon’s Children!”

Yoongi ghost-painted this piece.

Moon’s Children was a masterpiece in the picture Yoongi showed him. But it’s even more mesmerizing in real life. The blue is vibrant, the moonlight magical. It makes Seokjin want to step in and get inside that bubble, or dip into the ocean until he drowns. Yoongi’s Moon’s Children is a work of art that makes him want to live in that scene, floating inside the bubble as he drifts away.

Nothing feels real to Seokjin anymore, as he whips his head in the direction of Yoongi and doesn’t find him there anymore. He starts to run in the direction of the door but he’s unable to. Because in all of this chaos, he has totally forgotten about the shackle that had him chained in the pit all along.

“What the fuck, Jin?”

Kim Seokjin is sure, there are a lot of things that went wrong with him. But within this haze of his mind, he’s not sure which one Jiyoo is asking about. So he just looks back and stares at her, until Jiyoo narrows her eyes.

“How did you know what it’s called before he even announced it?”

Seokjin has not had a good night’s sleep in days, he’s got dark circles accentuating his tired eyes. He’s lacking proper nutrition and his fingers have been trembling all night.

“You’re mistaken,” Seokjin forces out, “I just repeated after him. I think it’s a pretty name.”

“Huh, really? I could’ve sworn…nevermind.” Jiyoo sighs. “Let’s head home. I think we’re done here.”

Seokjin can’t do anything as Jiyoo pulls him out of the door, but he keeps an eye out for Yoongi as they cross room after room amidst the sea of people.

It has to be Seokjin’s innate detector of Yoongi, that he finally sees him even in the crowd when Jiyoo drags him out of the main entrance. Yoongi re-enters the hall, looking down at the ground avoiding all sorts of eye-contact. Seokjin turns sideways to see where he goes, maybe call after him. But the hand on his arms doesn’t let him do that. It never does. So Yoongi disappears inside the hall again, out of Seokjin’s line of vision.

As they’re out waiting for their car to arrive, Seokjin stares at the ground feeling like he’s finally turned into a ghost. There’s not a single logical reasoning in his head. Not a thought that he could materialize into words after what he just saw.

If he’s feeling like this, he can only imagine what Yoongi’s been through.

Right. Yoongi. Who said he’s prioritizing Jeongguk and doesn’t want to become famous but his works are being exhibited in another artist’s exhibition in another artist’s name. Yoongi who said he has no dream of becoming famous by putting his name out there, but he’s selling his work to ‘artists’ who wouldn’t even hold a candle to him.

When the car arrives, Jiyoo gets in the backseat first, urging him to get inside as well. Seokjin blankly stares at the hand reaching out to him, the long nails, the expensive material of her baby blue gown, the shiny diamonds embedded in her bracelets.

“You go ahead,” Seokjin says quietly, “I’ll take Taehyung home with me.”

Jiyoo slowly retracts her hand, not hurt, but examining Seokjin’s face turned down at the ground. “Are you sure you can drive back?”

“Taehyung will if I can’t.”

“Fine, whatever.” Jiyoo exhales and slams the door shut on his face. The car drives out of the driveway.

In the night, standing all alone, Seokjin rubs hand down his face first. Then up his hair. Taehyung is not his concern right now, he knows his brother could get into a cruise with suspicious looking strangers and still make his way back home in the morning. No, Taehyung isn’t who he’s worrying about anymore.

Seokjin takes a sharp inhale before he turns back towards the hall, breaking the stairs up to the sixth floor as the line in front of the elevator was long.

Running. Kim Seokjin is running a marathon again for the only person who he ever ran for.

He finds Min Yoongi under the chandelier, standing in that same spot again, which now Seokjin realizes was Moon’s Children. But the painting is now fully uncovered for the entire world to see, to gasp at, to fawn over. To praise the artist who didn’t make it.

Seokjin finds Yoongi in the same way, looking up at his own painting now bearing someone else’s name, and holding an envelope to his chest.

HyunW- it says now, at the corner of the frame.

“Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin’s own voice quivers.

This time, Yoongi isn’t surprised to hear him. When he turns to look at Seokjin, his eyes are red, bloodshot, tears pooling around his lashes.

“He sold it already,” a painful smile cracks Yoongi’s face in half, the tears breaking the dam and streaming down his reddened face. He shows Seokjin the envelope. “And he gave me a fucking bonus out of pity.”

Seokjin isn’t thinking. He can’t. The tears on Yoongi’s face had rendered him numb. Seokjin has never been able to see Yoongi in pain, he always hated that Yoongi had to suffer on his own, that he couldn’t make his life easier for him. Seokjin had his own burdens for sure, but if he could, he would take up all of Yoongi’s as well.

He’s not sure what comes over him then, what edges him on to reach out and cup Yoongi’s face again after all this time, after all that agreement of staying away from each other's lives because this is potentially a dangerous move to make. It had already been a dangerous move they made.

And now he’s here again, drinking from the same cup of poison he can’t seem to get enough of at the slightest provocation. Maybe he can’t stay away from Yoongi after all. Maybe this was meant to be all along.

Why else would life thrust them together again, like this? After they had already said their goodbyes?

Seokjin does one of his favourite things to do then, and leans his forehead against Yoongi’s because this way he can breathe the same air as him.

“Yoongi, my love.”

Yoongi’s sobs rips out of him as he surges forward and buries his face in Seokjin’s chest without any preamble. Seokjin stumbles back at the force of it, Yoongi wrapping his hands around Seokjin’s midriff.

Seokjin tangles his fingers into Yoongi’s hair and sways him a little. “Sweetheart.”

“Hyung,” Yoongi starts bawling, his wails hitting Seokjin right in his chest. A lump starts forming in his own throat, his vision blurring as well. “I can’t do this, Seokjin hyung.” Yoongi screams into his shirt. “I thought…I thought I was strong enough to handle this because it's a lot of money. But I’m not. I can't do it."

Tears roll down his face and onto Yoongi’s hair when Seokjin blinks, he kisses Yoongi’s temple. “You don’t have to.”

“What am I going to tell Jeongguk?” Yoongi sniffles. “That I can’t send him to art school, that he has to give up his dreams like I did? How am I going to face him when I go home tonight?"

Glasses shatter inside his heart, Yoongi keeps wailing until Seokjin’s shirt is wet with tears and snot.

“I don’t know what to do, hyung. I really don’t know what to do anymore.”

And in that moment, under the glimmering chandelier, embracing Yoongi as he cries in his chest, Seokjin finally makes a decision. One he should have made long, long ago.

Seokjin is going to break up with Song Jiyoo.

Seokjin is going to call off the fucking wedding.

None of the wealth he grew up in has ever given him any peace, it only brought him suffering. It was always used as a leverage against him, he was held hostage against it. He worked hard for a job that he didn’t even want, his public image, his reputation, his gorgeous girlfriend- none of them are anything he truly wanted to have in this life, none of them ever mattered to him. All of it was planned out on his behalf, telling him this is what he should do, this is what he should have, this is what he should become. And none of that ever brought him the peace and contentment he sought out.

He only ever found it with Yoongi.

Yoongi is his moonlight in the darkest of paths he has to travel, one unpaved and thorny and one he has to build dust by dust again. Seokjin knows that there is no aspect of his life that’s truly complete, everything cracked and chipped off and fragile and anything could crumble down at any moment if he’s not careful enough.

But with Yoongi, it doesn’t feel so scary. He can weather any storm if Yoongi is there to man the helm along with him.

Yoongi is his light at the end of the tunnel, and the only blessing of his almost broken life.

Seokjin pries his face away and wipes the tears away with his thumbs before pulling on his bottom lip and kissing him. Yoongi gasps at the sudden action at first, but he relaxes right away, hands coming up to grasp the lapel of Seokjin’s jacket. Seokjin tastes the salt in his lips, trying to wipe it all away layer by layer until he reaches down to the taste of Yoongi himself, the one he’s most addicted to. Seokjin tilts his head, deepening the kiss and drinking up all of Yoongi’s sobs and absorbing them into his own chest.

And it feels liberating, to have Yoongi in his arms again, to know that this is real even though they might be on borrowed time. Yoongi is real and he’s with him again, and Seokjin can touch him and kiss him until he-

“Jin?!” The voice shrieks throughout the empty hall, louder than anything he’s ever heard. “Kim fucking Seokjin?!”

Seokjin feels Yoongi’s gasp in his throat first, before he feels his hands retreating. But Seokjin reaches out to grab onto Yoongi’s wrists, not letting him go and not breaking the kiss right away. He deepens it instead, feeling Yoongi taking sharp inhales trying to pull away.

He only breaks apart when he knows Jiyoo knows for sure what she’s seeing. And he smiles down at Yoongi who is horrified and snaps his head at the source of the voice.

“Jiyoo-ssi,” Yoongi pulls his hands again, but Seokjin doesn’t let go.

“Kim Seokjin, you fucking lying bastard!”

“Let me go, hyung,” Yoongi hisses.

Seokjin stands up straight, looks Yoongi dead straight in the eyes. “I told you there’s no need to hide.”

“I knew you were fucking cheating on me!”

Yoongi looks up at him desperately, “I wanna leave.”

“Yoongi-”

“Let me go, hyung.” Yoongi pulls again, “this wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to see each other again. I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

“Yoongi,” Seokjin rasps out, “don’t say that. You know, I love you. I-"

Yoongi’s face breaks at that, big tears escaping his lashes as they roll down his already streaked face.

“What kind of love doesn’t ask to stay, hyung?” Yoongi whispers through his tears, the pain, “you could’ve asked me to stay if you wanted and I would’ve. But you didn’t. Not even for once.”

His words hollow Seokjin out from the inside, sucking all the wind out of his chest. It's like a train hits him full force. Maybe because what he says is true. And Seokjin has no answer for that.

He only ever did what Yoongi said he wanted, not realizing that Yoongi would’ve done the exact same for him. All Seokjin had to do was ask.

“So no, I don’t know what kind of love you have for me,” Yoongi says, gritting his teeth, “and you have already run out of your time.”

Seokjin lets Yoongi’s wrists go and watches silently as Yoongi scrambles, dropping the envelope on the floor and storming towards the door.

“Goodbye, hyung.”

He was wrong. That morning in front of Yoongi’s building was not the last time Seokjin saw Yoongi. It’s this. Under the chandelier of an exhibition hall right in front of Yoongi’s art that does not belong to him anymore.

This feels final. This is how it ends.

He turns, coming face to face with Song Jiyoo’s reddened face, her veins popping out of her neck and her hands fisted. Yoongi reaches her, gives her a small bow and Seokjin fists his hands as well.

“I’m sorry, Jiyoo-ssi.”

Jiyoo does not acknowledge Yoongi, doesn’t even look at him. She keeps her stare pointed at Seokjin. Grits her teeth, “get out of my sight, you fucking whore.”

Then Yoongi disappears from the hall.

“Watch how you speak to him, Song Jiyoo.” Seokjin keeps his voice levelled. He’s not angry, not even a bit.

Because for the first time ever, he can finally pin-point everything he wants to do for himself. Once that illusion of status, money, reputation broke- he started seeing things more clearly. None of that matters to him anymore. Jiyoo can threaten him about firing him from the job all she wants, but he knows he’s skilled enough that he can build himself back up. He doesn’t need Jiyoo’s name and title backing him up.

He’s Kim fucking Seokjin.

He can excel at things he doesn’t even want to, so what levels can he reach if he puts his heart and soul to it?

There has always been a way out of this. He was just too much of a coward to pursue that.

And it took losing Yoongi for him to finally realize that.

“Why?” Jiyoo sneers, “can’t handle the truth that you’ve been fucking some whore you picked up from the street? I was right all along.”

Seokjin steps closer, “not all along, but you were right for some of it.”

“How dare you?” Jiyoo bares her teeth, “I have given you everything. What was I lacking in so much that you had to seek it out in someone else?! After everything I did for you-”

“You did everything for yourself!”

“Jin-”

“How many times have I told you I didn’t want this, huh?” Seokjin raises his voice, his words echoing around the empty walls. “How many times have I told you I didn’t want to marry you? Was that all not enough?”

“We have been together since med school,” Jiyoo looks like she wishes she had a gun in her hand. “Why would you want to ruin that?!”

“Because you were the only one in this relationship,” Seokjin is now standing a couple of feet away. “You were the one who never wanted to break up and the one who held onto something that died a long fucking time ago.”

“But cheating on me, Jin?” Jiyoo’s face contorts with disgust, “with a man who has nothing?”

“He is ten times the person you’re ever going to be.” Seokjin shoves his hands in his pocket, “besides, you can’t expect me to be loyal to someone I don’t even want in the first place. This was bound to happen. Don’t you think this is better than finding out after the marriage?”

Seokjin knows he’s really going for the kill here. But the way Jiyoo looks like she cannot believe her fucking ears, the way she is unraveling, thrown off from her high horse- it’s really satisfying to him.

“Careful, Jin,” Jiyoo raises an eyebrow, challenging him, “I don’t think you understand that I can destroy you in a second if I want.”

Seokjin tilts his head, “go ahead and do that if you want. If you want to show everyone that you, of all people, got your heart broken.”

“Oh I will end your career, you bastard.”

“Don’t bother,” Seokjin scoffs, shouldering past her. “I fucking quit.”

Seokjin doesn’t even make it out of the door when Jiyoo calls him again.

“Yah, what about the engagement?!” She calls out, “we have already sent out the invitations. Everyone knows we’re getting engaged already. Everything is paid for. You can’t just leave like this. Jin! You are not thinking this through! All the people, everyone in our families, our colleagues-”

“I don’t fucking care!” Seokjin yells, spins around to face her and it effectively shuts her up. “I didn’t even want this. I was never a part of the plan because you excluded me because you wanted to do this according to your plans. What you’re going to do about it is not my headache anymore. You have already given me enough of it throughout the years. I am fucking done with you, we’re over. Get that. Through. Your. Thick. Skull!”

Seokjin turns around again, walking out. But Jiyoo’s shrill voice cracks through once again.

“Where are you going now? Back to that whore?”

Seokjin stops, looks back over his shoulders. “Shut your mouth up right now, or I’m going to kill you, Song Jiyoo.”

“Some big words.”

“You can call me anything you want, I don’t care.” Seokjin walks back towards her, his skin crawling in disgust. This is the woman he has been with for all these years. He grits his teeth. “But don’t even dare to speak ill of him. Or, I will end you. One way or another. So do not test me.”

Jiyoo opens and closes her mouth. Seokjin is sure he’s expressing enough to let her know that he means every word he utters. He does not wait for Jiyoo to retort anymore, he’s already wasted too much time on her. So many agonizing years that he can never get back.

Out of the hall, out in the world so humanly cold, Seokjin takes his first breath. Feeling as though a huge load has been lifted off his shoulders. His chest feels lighter, and the headache has subsided.

But there’s still something else he needs to do. Someone else he needs to see.

It’s almost like his hands work on autopilot as he reaches into his pockets and brings out his phone and calls Yoongi’s number. It rings, once, twice. All the way. But Yoongi doesn’t answer. He calls him again. No answer. And again and again and again.

But everything goes unanswered.

Dread fills his stomach. He really fucked up with him this time. There are so many loose ends he needs to fix. But the most important is Yoongi. And Seokjin can’t reach him.

“Fuck!”

Seokjin kicks a stone in frustration, pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes in and out heavily. He unlocks his phone again, scrolling through the numbers until he reaches one he hasn’t called in a long time. But only got calls from in times of need.

The other side picks up after three rings. Seokjin takes a deep inhale.

“Hey, dad.”

Chapter Text

Kim Seokjin may have a very good memory depending on who you ask, but he cannot remember when was the last time he stepped foot in his father’s house.

Dr. Kim Sung Hoon is a man of his words. Headstrong, strict and dedicated to the causes he believes in. Seokjin grew up fearing him instead of revering him. And even though his father’s temper has mellowed out with age, Seokjin still feels anxiousness crawling up his spine like spiders as he enters the house.

His father’s hair is entirely grey now, his skin wrinkled. But his eyes still have a strong intensity upon them, like he’s examining every move anyone makes and judging them. Kim Sung Hoon lives alone in his house, cooks his own dinner and cleans up after himself. He has no pets or plants, it’s just him and his books in the empty house.

Seokjin walks around the house in tentative steps, suddenly feeling colder than usual.

“Il-seong told me,” is the first thing he says, instead of asking Seokjin to take a seat. His father is in his house robes, pouring himself a glass of water by the dining table. The house is big, two stories and wooden steps to help get to the dining area. But Seokjin does not cross the boundary of the living room. This does not feel like home.

He looks around, staring at the floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with thick books, before addressing his father. “Have you hired people to help around the house?”

Kim Sung Hoon raises an eyebrow at him, taking a sip. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I could say the same to you.”

He shakes his head in disdain. Dr. Kim may be old now but his voice still booms when he talks, still holding its ground when he speaks. But Seokjin can’t help but think his retirement had shed off some layer of that innate intensity he used to carry around everywhere all the time.

“I don’t need people to work for me in my own house,” he finishes the rest of the water and puts the glass down. “I may be old but I’m not weak yet.”

“Still,” Seokjin reasons, “your health is getting worse. You might wanna have someone around to take care of you.”

Dr. Kim never got married after the divorce and Seokjin had spent a considerable amount of time wondering why. While his mother was well-off, had been surrounded by her own family and Seokjin to take care of her as she got older, his father had no one. And the skewed relationship he had with Seokjin was never really fixed. So it wasn’t like he could rely on his son to look after him when he got sick.

Kim Sung Hoon laughs mirthlessly, “my health is not getting worse. Who told you that? Your mother?”

Seokjin’s eyes follow his every move as his father climbs down the few steps to sit down on the couch in the living room. He isn’t going to confess to his father that he has access to his files and checks them every now and then without anyone knowing. They’re not close, so he feels weird asking him about his condition. But his mother asks sometimes and Seokjin uses his sneaky links to know any recent updates. And it’s not good at all.

“No,” Seokjin says, “but I have eyes and I can see.”

“Really?” Kim Sung Hoon’s eyes sparkle, but Seokjin does not like the tone at all. “Look at you all grown up now! You’ve become such a seasoned doctor that you can diagnose anyone just by looking at them!”

It’s funny really, how even after all these years, even after reaching all these milestones, Seokjin still feels so small in front of his father. Like that child who was terrified to show him his report card because he missed an A in mathematics.

Seokjin clenches his jaw. “If you’d rather suffer alone-”

“You’re not going to be the one to look after me.” Dr. Kim cuts him off, “so don’t bother pretending to be concerned. I can take care of myself. But between the two of us, if anyone needs any help then it has to be you. Considering how you just screwed your life over.”

Straightening his back, Seokjin looks him dead in the eye, “if it’s any consolation, I quit before they fired me.”

“No, it's not any consolation. Are you crazy?” His father stands up, tilting his head. His voice is strong, gripping. “Exactly what were you thinking? Quitting your job? Breaking up with Jiyoo days before the engagement? Do you have no shame?”

Seokjin curls his fists, stands his ground even in the face of intimidation. He won’t lie, he’s feeling terrified right now. It’s as if the child that still resides inside him is waking up again, fearing for his life.

“I didn’t love her, dad. Neither did I love the job.”

The silence that follows is thick with tension. Kim Sung Hoon looks as though he cannot believe his own ears. Seokjin takes a deep breath.

“And I’m not here asking for forgiveness or your permission,” he says, watching as his father listens intently. “I’m just here to inform you of the fact. I’m not marrying Jiyoo, tell your friend to deal with it.”

The expression on his father’s face is difficult to read. It’s too passive, too intentional, too calculative. He can practically hear the gear shift in his head.

“Jiyoo told me you cheated on her.” Kim Sung Hoon asks, “is that true?”

Seokjin swallows the lump in his throat. He’s been trying to keep his head in the game because he couldn’t afford to show any weakness in front of his dad. But hearing that word, and remembering the man relevant to it, he can feel his resolve breaking.

“Yes,” he admits. “With a man.”

His dad scoffs loudly at that. “You make me sick. Is this who I raised you to be?”

“No,” Seokjin inhales, “I would’ve become a coward who stayed in a loveless marriage had I been raised exclusively by you. But thank god that wasn’t the case.”

“There’s nothing wrong with staying in a loveless marriage if you can work it out.”

This time Seokjin laughs, “like how it worked out for you and mom? Really, dad?” Kim Sung Hoon startles at his tone and Seokjin can’t help but feel a little proud of himself. “Besides, Jiyoo knew I didn’t love her. She told me she didn’t care if I cheated on her, she just wanted to get married to me for what I brought to the table.”

“And that’s what I don’t understand,” his dad says with disbelief in his tone, “No one asked you two to be madly in love. You could’ve just married her and kept your side piece where it belonged. To the side.”

If he could, Seokjin would punch him square in the face. But if there is anything that Seokjin hates, it’s being told that he has inherited the same temper his father has. So he reigns it in, keeping his head cool and his thoughts straight.

Seokjin clenches his jaws. “He’s not a side piece. Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Or else.”

Kim Sung Hoon shakes his head in disdain, like he’s heartbroken, like he cannot believe he’s talking to his own son.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you.”

“Incredible.” He says, laughing with no humour, “incredible! I have given you everything you could ever need. I worked hard so you could have a good life. And this is how you repay me?” Dr. Kim grits his teeth at the end. “By embarrassing me in front of everyone? How am I going to show my face to my friends and colleagues, huh? Do you not know who these people are? They are some of the greatest minds of this country and you dare embarrass me in front of all of them?!”

There it is, Seokjin thinks, the reason why even he held on for so long. The reason that once held all the weight but does not even matter to him anymore. And it’s funny seeing his dad uttering them out loud. Any other day, Seokjin would cower in fear. But not today. Not anymore.

“You didn’t give me a good life, dad,” Seokjin tries to keep his voice calm and collected. He can’t lose it in front of his father. But he’s shaking, and his voice shakes too. “All you have given me is a life full of neglect and abandonment. You never cared about me, your own son, as much as you cared about those esteemed friends of yours!”

Kim Sung Hoon sneers, “you ungrateful bastard! You are where you are now because of me!”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right,” Seokjin breathes hard. “I’m where I am today because you thought it was a good idea to make me choose a life I didn’t even want in the first place. I’m here today because you wanted me to marry someone who’d heighten your social status in front of your stupid fucking friends!”

“Don’t forget you were the one who dated her in the first place,” his father presses, baring his teeth. “I didn’t ask you to. That was all you.”

“And I admit to my mistake,” Seokjin stands his ground. “I’ve been wanting to get out of that relationship for so many years now but you, all of you, held on to it because of your own selfish reasons. Didn’t even ask if I wanted it. And I refuse to be a pawn in your games for any longer. You don’t get to force me to marry someone I can’t stand. And neither can your friend. I despise their family so much.”

The relationship had already soured between Seokjin and Jiyoo, which eventually made him realize her family was just as much to blame. But the final straw was Hyunwoo and his god awful tactics to sell himself as a talented artist. And the fact that Yoongi somehow got involved in all of this.

Dr. Kim stands still in silence for some time, staring at Seokjin, seemingly deep in thought. He’s calculative, always has been. And Seokjin hates being on the receiving end of that kind of scrutiny.

“There’s still time,” his father says finally. “You can still go back and ask Il-seong and Jiyoo to forgive you. Get married to her like you’re supposed to and get back to work. No one’s gonna suspect anything. And we can all forget any of this ever happened.”

“Dad-”

“And if you still want to see that guy, you can. If Jiyoo turns a blind eye to it, I’m sure everyone can. It’s a win-win for everyone involved.”

Rage burns inside him. Seokjin wants to burn this entire house down. He wants to beat the ground until the earth cracks up. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. But then again, what was he thinking? What did he think his father was gonna say? That he’s proud of his son for taking a brave step in his life? For making his own decisions for once?

“His name is Yoongi.” He says calmly. “That guy. His name is Yoongi and I want to marry him instead. Not right now, but eventually.”

Upon hearing this, Kim Sung Hoon’s nose flares, “are you out of your goddamn mind, Seokjin?!” He shouts so loud that Seokjin has to take a step back. “Have you not embarrassed me enough?!”

Seokjin cannot find it in him to be bothered about that. Not anymore. “If I cared about that I wouldn’t be here in the first place, dad. Don’t you see it yet? I’m not here asking for your blessings.”

“You still have time, Seokjin. Do as I say and get married to Jiyoo. You’re clearly not thinking this through-”

“I’ve thought about it enough!” Seokjin heaves out, yells loud enough it makes his father startle. “And this is what I want. You can either suck it up or be pissed about it for the rest of your life. I don’t give a fuck! But you’d be dead wrong if you think I’m still that child who’s going to follow every one of your orders because you think I owe my life to you.”

“You do owe your life to me, you stupid boy! I’m your father!”

Seokjin breathes hard in anger, “come and say that to me when you figure out what being a father truly means.”

Dr. Kim looks shocked only for a second before he backs down and slacks his shoulder.

“I really raised an ungrateful son.”

Seokjin inhales deeply, takes a step back away from him. “Maybe because you deserved one.”

“How dare you-”

“You shouldn’t have married mom,” Seokjin grits his teeth, going for the kill, “if you don’t know how to value someone for who they are, you shouldn’t try owning them. If you didn’t know how to love mom the way she needed you to, you should’ve just stayed alone and fucking miserable.”

Seokjin knows his father understood every bit of his words without him spelling it out for him. It’s evident in the way his eyes widen every second, the same eyes that Seokjin used to fear growing up look quivering and unsure now. It’s like Seokjin stabbed a knife right into his abdomen to bleed him out. Seokjin’s talking about her, and Kim Sung Hoon knows that very well.

“And you of all people,” Seokjin continues, twisting that knife now, “don’t get to lecture me on marriage, dad. Yours failed miserably. So what the fuck do you even know about it?”

His father takes a step back, that fire from before suddenly snuffed out. “Your mother and I tried very hard to make it work between us.”

What a joke. Seokjin remembers very well how hard they tried. So much so that Seokjin had to hide under his bed with a pillow pressed on his ears so that he didn’t have to hear their shouts and the sounds of plates breaking because he had exams the day after and couldn’t afford to get distracted. Another hell waited for him if he failed to get straight A’s.

Taking one last deep breath, Seokjin backs away towards the main door. He has said what he needed to say and he doesn’t wish to stay in this house for a mere second longer.

“Maybe not hard enough,” he says, “it was probably difficult to make it work when your heart was with someone else. But rest assured, I’m not going to make that same mistake you did.”

His father says nothing in return, and Seokjin is glad that he doesn’t. Kim Sung Hoon, ailed and alone, lives in the prison of his own making. And Seokjin refuses to be a victim of it any longer.

“Tell your friend and his pathetic daughter to not contact me again. That’s all I came to say.” Seokjin twists the door handle and pushes it open, looking back over his shoulder. “Bye, dad.”

***

Min Yoongi doesn’t pick up his calls.

Seokjin buries his face in his hands, almost on the brink of falling apart. He’s not had the time to register and process everything that’s happened in the past few days. It all happened so fast and feels so blurred out that he’s getting teary eyed wondering how he’s going to fix the mess at all.

“You should eat, hyung.”

Taehyung slides a bowl of homemade pasta in his direction. The kitchen was empty of ingredients because Seokjin had no time or willingness to go grocery shopping of all things. But Taehyung took it upon himself to confront that matter and made sure Seokjin had breakfast, lunch and dinner on his table. Even though Seokjin barely eats half the plate and throws up the little amount he does eat.

He feels nauseous just by the smell of food.

Seokjin presses on his temples, elbows resting on the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Taehyung-ah.”

“Are you nuts?” Taehyung’s voice is sweet and endearing still. “This is no trouble for me. Don’t even worry about it. You’re my brother, of course I’m here when you need me the most.”

Seokjin rubs his face and rests his chin on his palm, looking at Taehyung’s awry hair going up in all directions. A bit of flour sticks to his hair, making it look like he went through a sandstorm of his own.

“Come here,” Seokjin points to the empty tool on the opposite side. And Taehyung complies.

Kim Taehyung sits across from him, lips pursed in a smile he’s not sure he should let out. Seokjin reaches out and gently dusts the flour off of his hair. And Taehyung grins boyishly, like he’s still that child who loved to giggle when Seokjin rode the bicycle across the neighbourhood with a baby Taehyungie on the back.

“When are you planning on leaving for Paris?” Seokjin asks as he combs Taehyung’s hair with his fingers after the flour is gone completely.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung exhales, picking on his nails. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Seokjin gives him a soft smile. “But I worry about you too, you know. What’s going on with you, what you’re doing these days. Tell me.”

It’s a slow moment in the kitchen, a mere second in the endless ticks of time. And Seokjin is glad he has Taehyung to anchor him when he feels like the ground has been swiped away from his feet.

Taehyung mimics him, resting his chin on his palm. “Dad keeps asking me to go to Daegu.”

“Do you want to?”

“I think I should, even if I don’t want to.” Taehyung sighs again. “Who knows when I’ll be back again.”

Seokjin hums. That’s a good idea. He was not going to advise Taehyung to do the opposite of what he wanted. It had to come from Taehyung himself. Maybe he can change their minds when he visits them, or maybe he will change his own mind when he goes.

“Have you told eomoenie?” Taehyung asks again.

“Yeah,” Seokjin huffs out, “I called her on my way back, haven’t gotten around to visit her yet. With everything that’s been going on.”

Taehyung purses his lips, crosses his arms on the counter. “Do you want me to talk to Jeongguk?”

Seokjin drops his hand on the counter as well, eyes wide in surprise. “No, God, no! He doesn’t know about us at all. Don’t tell him anything.”

“Okay.” Taehyung says, standing up from the tool and smiling a little to himself as he does. “Kid’s very cute. I think he has a bit of a crush on me.”

The audacity of Taehyung to be saying this after that beautiful sketch Jeongguk made. It makes Seokjin chuckle despite himself. “You think?”

Taehyung scrunches his face, but ends up breaking into a laugh just the same.

“He’s still so young, I don’t want to break his heart.”

“Then don’t,” Seokjin exhales. “Don’t lead him on if you don’t plan on doing anything about it.”

“Right,” Taehyung purses his lips, looking around at practically nothing and nodding. “I shouldn’t.” Then he shoves the bowl of pasta further into Seokjin’s direction. “And you should eat. You look like you’re dying.”

Seokjin takes the fork and twists it around the linguine. “Everyone’s dying.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Taehyung rolls his eyes before turning away and starts walking out of the kitchen dramatically.

And at that moment, his phone rings loudly on the counter. Taehyung stops midway as Seokjin scrambles off his seat to snatch his phone to see who called. It could be Yoongi. Maybe he finally decided to call him back, maybe he’s finally ready to talk to Seokjin.

Seokjin deflates in disappointment the moment his eyes fall on the screen.

“Who is it?” Taehyung asks.

Seokjin screws his eyes shut before turning around, “Jimin.”

“Oh,” Taehyung straightens up, “want me to pick that up?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Seokjin deeply inhales before hitting the green button.

“Seokjin hyyuuuuung!”

Despite how he’s feeling, Seokjin can’t help but laugh at the enthusiastic tone Jimin calls him with. If there’s anyone Seokjin is going to miss in that hospital, it’s Dr. Park Jimin.

“Hey, Jimin-ah.”

“Is it true? Are you really not coming anymore?! How could you do this to me hyung??”

Seokjin rubs his forehead, forgetting the pasta and walking around Taehyung to get to the living room. Taehyung follows him like a puppy.

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin sits down on the couch and watches as Taehyung does the same, scooting closer to him. “I’ll explain everything to you.”

“You better.” Jimin’s sigh is apparent from the other end. “But that’s not why I called.”

Seokjin closes his eyes, a headache creeps up on him. “Okay. What is it?”

“So I was about to come and check if you really quit or not, and I-” Jimin starts, but then pauses before starting again. “There was someone waiting for you in front of your room.”

Seokjin rubs his forehead again. It’s going to be a pain in the ass to inform all of his patients that he won’t be available there anymore, if anywhere at all. But till then he’ll have to push through the agonizing ordeal of letting his patients down.

“So I went to tell him that you’re not here and he,” Jimin paused again, “he said he’s not here for a check up but that he needed to talk to you. What did you say your name was?” Seokjin raised an eyebrow as Jimin paused again.

“Huh?”

“Oh, right,” Jimin seems to have been talking to someone else, “Jeon Jeongguk. He says you’ll know him.”

Seokjin shoots up from his seat, startling Taehyung who shrieks in the process.

“Don’t tell him about any rumour you may have heard!” Seokjin says as fast as he can. He has no idea if his colleagues know anything about what happened, if so, then how much they even know. Jiyoo could exaggerate things and spread false rumours. And he has no clue about what Jimin knows as of right now.

“I haven’t, calm down hyung.” Jimin says from the other side.

Seokjin checks the clock. 6 pm. “Your shift ended right?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Bring Jeongguk to my place.” Seokjin says, “I’m texting you my address. Bring him here and don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Is everything-”

“I’ll explain to you once you’re here.” Seokjin cuts him off. “Just bring him here.”

Jimin rings the doorbell about thirty minutes after the call ends, which is enough time for Taehyung to clean up and wear something presentable in front of the guests. Seokjin also warns him not to say too much in front of Jeongguk.

Park Jimin enters his house with a dazed and confused looking Jeon Jeongguk in tow, holding his wrist as tightly as he can. Jimin shows Seokjin Jeongguk’s wrists, looking like a proud bounty hunter.

“You were right telling me not to leave him out of my sight,” Jimin exclaims in lieu of a greeting, “he kept getting distracted by the anatomical pictures on the halls.”

Seokjin’s not sure how he’s feeling. But judging by the sweat pooling on his palms, he sure has an idea. He wipes them on his pants.

“Come inside, Jimin,” he says, then leaning sideways and making direct eye contact with Jeongguk who has been looking around in awe. “Jeongguk-ah.”

“Hello, Jimin-ssi, Jeongguk.” Taehyung greets them from the middle of the living room, chuckling, “been a while, huh.”

Jimin smiles at him and bows slightly, and only then he realizes that he’s still holding onto Jeongguk’s wrist. He lets him go finally, nudging him to the front.

“Hey Taehyungie hyung.” Jeongguk holds both of his hands to the front and bows. “It’s nice to see you again. I’m sorry I was in a hurry the other day at the exhibition and couldn’t talk properly. I hope you understand.”

Taehyung smiles good naturedly. “It’s nice to see you too. And don’t worry about it.”

Jeongguk nods and then finally, finally looks at Seokjin.

And Seokjin isn’t sure if Yoongi has told him anything or not. Knowing Yoongi, he’s not supposed to. But he can’t help but notice the distressed look on Jeongguk’s face, the scared quivering of his pupils.

“Hyung I-,” he starts, stammering in the middle, “can I talk to you? Alone?”

Seokjin shoos Taehyung and Jimin away, asking Taehyung to give Jimin a tour and prepare something for him to eat. It takes a lot of coaxing for Seokjin to finally convince Jeongguk to sit down. Jeongguk kept insisting he’s fine with standing up and when he does sit, he sits awkwardly at the edge of the couch.

“How are you, Jeongguk?” Seokjin asks when he finally eases in.

“Here and there,” Jeongguk shuffles, looking around his living room nervously. “I met Taehyungie hyung in the exhibition and he told me you were there as well.”

Seokjin isn’t sure if he should tell Jeongguk about meeting Yoongi there, and the rest is out of the question. He nods.

“Taehyung told me, yes.” Seokjin says carefully. “I wanted to say hi but you were gone by then.”

“Right,” Jeongguk purses his lips. “Did you know Yoongi hyung was there too?”

Seokjin inhales deeply, rubbing his nose and sniffing. “I’ve met him briefly, yes.” He decides against lying, but he’s also not going to give away too much.

Jeonnguk nods, pursing his lips. Then he fidgets with his fingers.

“So you know about Moon’s Children?”

Is that…why he’s here? To ask about the artwork? This isn’t what Seokjin was expecting him to talk about. But he’s kind of relieved that this is his main concern.

“I do,” Seokjin says honestly. “I’d seen it before. Yoongi showed me.”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, rubbing his face. “Alright. But you know you can’t tell anyone about it right? Hyung signed a contract and he can’t disclose that he’s the real artist. So you can’t…tell anyone. We don’t want to tarnish our names as whistleblowers. It’s already tough for us.”

“Hey,” Seokjin gives him a tiny smile. “No one’s gonna know. You have my word. I’m curious though. Do you guys work for other artists all the time?”

Jeongguk shakes his head quickly, “no, no. I don’t even do commissions. Yoongi hyung does. He has a page and everything for orders. But this is the first time he ghost painted for someone else. Because Hyunwoo-ssi offered a lot of money.” Jeongguk pauses, “but I don’t think he took it well.”

Seokjin’s breath hitches remembering Yoongi from that night. He was crying, Yoongi was crying on his chest. Seokjin had him in his arms while he sobbed. And now he doesn’t even know where he is, what he’s doing.

“How is he now? Where is he?” Seokjin finds himself asking anyway, careful not to give away too much in his expression. But he’s dying to know, any little information on him will do. He just needs to know Yoongi is okay.

“Home.” Jeongguk replies, “he’s a little sick.”

“What??”

Jeongguk startles at Seokjin’s tone at first, but he recovers quickly. “He’s got a bit of a fever and he’s resting right now. It doesn’t seem to be too serious, but I feel so worried. Hyung’s been really stressed lately.”

Seokjin has an inkling as to why and he cannot help but blame himself for Yoongi’s condition. He’s itching to just go and make a run for him, see how he’s doing, hold him in his arms. Tell him he loves him. He’s aching all over for a sliver of Yoongi’s touch.

“Seokjin hyung,” Jeongguk calls him again, “Yoongi hyung asked me to take a look at your apartment. Said you wanted your walls painted like ours.”

It surprises him, he’s not going to lie. He didn’t think Yoongi was going to listen, much less remember and comply. Sending Jeongguk to him while he’s in pain himself. That’s Min Yoongi.

But he also doesn’t want Jeongguk to put himself in any more health hazards.

“Thank you, Jeongguk-ah,” Seokjin says, “but I don’t think you should do anymore wall paintings any time soon.”

Jeongguk widens his already big eyes. “Hyung-”

“Ah,” Seokjin raises a finger and stops him, “I know you know, Jeongguk-ah. You may think you have fooled Yoongi but you can’t fool me.”

Jeongguk clasps his hands tightly. “But I feel better now.”

“You never know when it might trigger your asthma again. And I, in my good conscience, can’t allow you to do anything that might make it worse.” Seokjin isn’t scolding him, it’s impossible to. But he does say this strictly. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why didn’t you tell your hyung?”

“Because,” Jeongguk looks up at him then, “hyung would’ve prohibited me from doing graffiti. I didn’t want to give that up.”

Seokjin exhales, running a hand through his hair. He thought so, he knew this is why Jeongguk withheld this information.

“Jeongguk-ah,” he calls, “as your doctor, I need you to be honest with me about these things. And it’s alright if you feel uncomfortable sharing with me. But please don’t lie to Yoongi. You need to be honest with him always.”

All Jeongguk does is nod, biting on his bottom lip.

“Also,” Seokjin starts again, a little nervously this time. “Do you want me to check on Yoongi?”

Jeongguk chuckles at that, shaking his head, “no, it’s better if you don’t.” He scrunches his nose. “He’s a little mean when he’s sick.”

That’s not something Seokjin has never experienced before. But he doesn’t say that to Jeongguk.

Back in the kitchen, Seokjin makes Jeongguk join Taehyung and Jimin for dinner. Jeongguk looks around his house in awe and cannot seem to believe he lives in an apartment with four bedrooms. He also compliments the hell out of Taehyung’s cooking and Seokjin sighs in relief realizing that Jeongguk’s initial inhibition has finally worn off.

He doesn’t ask him further questions about Yoongi, although it kills him inside not to. Taehyung is also very careful about not giving away too much when he talks to Jeongguk, but it doesn’t slip Seokjin’s notice how Taehyung cannot keep the smile off of his face whenever Jeongguk starts talking.

Jimin is also cautious about not talking too much about Seokjin’s resignation in front of Jeongguk. But he also can’t seem to keep his newfound fondness for Jeongguk to himself. He challenges Jeongguk to draw him within ten minutes. Seokjin hands him a pencil and notebook and Jeongguk finishes drawing Jimin in five.

When the three of them finish eating, Seokjin busies himself with doing the dishes as he hears sounds of laughter from the living room. It doesn’t cure Seokjin’s headache and heartache completely, but it does ease a bit of that stress inside him. Not entirely, but it helps.

Min Yoongi still resides at the forefront of his mind. Now that he knows he’s fallen sick and can’t help but wonder if he’s being taken care of well. He checks his phone every now and then to see if he’s called back or texted. But he always comes up empty.

Seokjin has gone through Yoongi ignoring him multiple times already. But this time it feels the worst. It’s like someone inserted shards of glass in his lungs and it hurts every time he breathes. The lump in his throat doesn’t go away. Seokjin grabs the edge of the sink once he’s done, screwing his eyes shut against the cool breeze blowing through the window.

What kind of love doesn’t ask to stay, hyung? You could’ve asked me to stay if you wanted and I would’ve. But you didn’t. Not even for once.

How could Seokjin be so stupid? He wanted Yoongi to stay with him that morning, for the rest of his life. But the words never materialized. Because Yoongi said they shouldn’t see each other again. And Seokjin just…gave up. Because he didn’t think he could want more than what he already had. After running after Yoongi all this time, he just gave up right before he reached the finish line. Right when it mattered the most. How could he be so painfully blind to what Yoongi truly wanted?

What an idiot.

“Hyung?” Someone knocks on the wall. Seokjin turns back over his shoulder. “Is it a good time to ask what made you quit?”

Seokjin smiles at Jimin, holding onto the page off Seokjin’s notebook, “since you’re here.”

So he tells Jimin exactly what he needs to know. About his affair with Yoongi and how he finally broke up with Jiyoo and quit the job in a matter of ten minutes. Jimin listens intently, doesn’t ask questions, and doesn't interrupt him.

“Jeongguk doesn’t know about any of this,” Seokjin sighs, “Yoongi doesn’t want him to know.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” Jimin tilts his head, “cute guy, though. Very curious and enthusiastic about every little thing.” He ends up laughing and Seokjin raises an eyebrow at him. “You have no idea how many questions he asked me on our way here.” He scrunches his face. “He’s like a doll. I want to keep him in my pocket.”

Seokjin watches as Jimin looks down at the page with a smile on his face, tracing the outline of his own drawing made by Jeongguk. He opens his mouth to comment on that, but Jimin beats him to it.

“So! Seokjin hyung,” Jimin looks up at him again, “what’s next for you? Will you be applying to other places now?”

That is a line of thought Seokjin has not aligned himself with yet, with everything that’s going on, his career is at the bottom of his list of priorities right now. He’s not in the headspace to even think of it right now.

“Don’t know, Jimin-ah. I just…I might take a break from everything.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, “are you sure?”

Seokjin nods, “pretty much. I cannot deal with the stress at the moment. Maybe taking some time off might help. And if it doesn’t work out, maybe I can apply to become a high school biology teacher.” He ends with a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes do not return to their original size, “really?”

“What?” Seokjin teases, “teaching is a noble profession!”

“Yes but you’d need a license to teach, that could take about a year.”

Seokjin laughs again as he stands up, walking around to ruffle Jimin’s hair. “I’ve got so much time now. What’s the hurry? Besides, a year will pass anyway, regardless of if I do it or not.”

Jimin hums as he follows Seokjin back in the living room only to find Jeongguk preparing to leave.

“Thanks for the food, Taehyungie hyung!” Jeongguk calls out as he puts his shoes back on. He stands up straight once he’s done, raises his hand and salutes back in Seokjin’s direction. “See you soon, hyungs.”

“Yah, Jeongguk-ah, where’s my salute?!” Taehyung complains. Jeongguk immediately turns to him with his salute and bows.

“And where’s mine?!” It’s Jimin who complains this time, laughing as his eyes turn into small half-moons. Jeongguk turns back to him and does the same like an obedient boy.

Seokjin just shakes his head at their antics. When Jeongguk turns back to open the door, Jimin turns to Seokjin.

“I guess I should leave too,” Jimin says, then follows Jeongguk’s path, “Jeongguk, where do you live? Let me drop you off. I don’t want you getting lost on your way out.”

Seokjin tilts his head at them, as Jeongguk opens his mouth in surprise, looking at Seokjin first and then at Taehyung. And Taehyung has his lips pursed, looking at Jeongguk and trying to hold his smile back.

“I’ll be fine,” Jeongguk says when he regains his composure. “I can go home by myself.”

“Nonsense,” Jimin exclaims, “Seokjin hyung told me not to leave you out of my sight!”

Seokjin bites his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Then he turns to Taehyung, “yah, Taehyung-ah.” He says, gesturing to Jeongguk and Jimin with his head.

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. He starts for the door as well.

“Actually, let me drop both of you off.”

The cacophony ends there, when Taehyung takes Seokjin’s car keys and locks the door on his way out, leaving Seokjin alone in his house.

The sudden silence is deafening. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear the clock ticking at the back of his head. When it becomes unbearable, he turns on the TV to drown out the silence and forces himself to plop down on the floor in the living room. He doesn’t want to go back in his room, he left it as a mess and has zero energy to fix it.

This place never felt like home anyway, in spite of him living here for years now. The walls have no pictures or art. It’s just a stretch of plain, mournful grey, accentuated by Seokjin’s own grief. In his defense, Seokjin never got to spend so much time in his apartment anyways. Between classes, internships and night shifts, he was always on the run and only used his room to sleep whenever he did manage to be home. Looking around the house now, he realizes how empty and void of meaning his life has been.

And it’s the first time that life fully registers to him.

He wanted to go with Taeyung to drop Jeongguk off, because it’d mean he’d get to be just a little closer to Yoongi in distance. He could’ve convinced Jeongguk to let him see Yoongi, check his vitals, because it’d mean he’d get to touch him one more time.

Seokjin wants to run to Yoongi right now, hold him in his arms as his body temperature transfers to him.

When Taehyung comes back, he finds Seokjin curled in on himself in a fetal position and helps him up to the couch.

“Did you see Yoongi?” Seokjin asks him weakly when Taehyung brings him a glass of water and his reheated bowl of pasta. “Is he alright?”

“No, I didn’t want to invade,” Taehyung replies meekly, “didn’t think he’d be too excited to see me.”

He’s right. Yoongi would probably punch anyone from Seokjin’s bloodline square in the face if he saw them now. He puts the bowl down on the table and stands up.

“Hyung-”

“I need to call him,” Seokjin looks around for his phone, finds it discarded on the floor. “I need to hear his voice at least.”

Seokjin kneels down at the side of the center table, looking at the screen of his phone as the call rings. No one picks up on the other side. He tries again a second time but to no avail. Taehyung starts to say something but Seokjin stops him with a raised finger and hits call one more time.

And this time, the call is picked up on the fifth ring.

Seokjin scrambles to his feet, presses the phone to his ear. His heart starts doing internal gymnastics.

“Yoongi!” He exclaims into the phone, “Yoongi-ah, honeypie. I’m so sorry. Hyung is so sorry Yoongi. Please just, please just let me see you once? I’ll explain everything to you, please? I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay that night, I just…I’m sorry, but I desperately need to see you. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you again. Jeongguk told me you’re sick. Can I please come see you? You know I can’t see you in pain, Yoongi-ah. Just this once, okay? I swear I’ll make everything right. I miss you so much, my love. I-”

“Seokjin hyung?”

Seokjin’s blood runs stone cold. His eyes widen. He’s so, so stupid. He whips his head around at Taehyung, who is looking up at him with eyes full of concern at what he just heard. Seokjin should have listened first, he should’ve taken a deep breath before speaking his mind into the phone. Because in his excitement at Yoongi picking up his call, he completely forgot who sometimes picks up on Yoongi’s behalf.

“Jeongguk,” Seokjin gasps as he watches Taehyung cover his mouth with a hand. “Jeongguk, listen to me-”

“What the fuck, hyung?” Jeongguk sounds like he’s agitated, vexed, angry. And Seokjin has never seen or heard him like this. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Jeongguk, please listen to me. Where is Yoongi? Can I please talk to him?”

“What do you want from Yoongi hyung?” Jeongguk seethes from the other end. “Why were you telling all those stuff to him? I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“I-”

“Did you sleep with him?” Jeongguk asks, evidently astonished. “While you’re still with that girlfriend of yours?”

Seokjin starts breathing harder, he’s fucked everything up to the point of no return. It’s difficult to explain to Jeongguk, he wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t know anything, Yoongi kept him in complete darkness. Besides, Seokjin doesn’t even know where to start with him.

“Jeongguk. Please just give the phone to Yoongi.”

“No!” Jeongguk shouts on the other end. “Is this your fault? Are you the reason why he’s sick? Did you hurt him, hyung?!”

Seokjin grips the phone tightly, anxiety crawls up all over his skin. He’s been blaming himself for Yoongi’s condition since he’s gotten to know about it from Jeongguk. But to actually hear it from Jeongguk himself? Now that’s a bit too much to handle even for him.

It’s only when he screws his eyes shut that he realizes he teared up, the few drops now roll down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Jeongguk.” He finds himself whispering into the phone.

“Fuck you, Seokjin hyung!” Jeongguk screams at him, “how could you do this to him? He’s all I have, didn’t you know that? What will I do if anything happens to him? Where will I go?!”

It breaks Seokjin’s heart to hear Jeongguk say all that, as if he’s not been beating himself up enough.

“I can’t-” Jeongguk starts again, “I was just in your house, I…I don’t understand why-”

Jeongguk’s voice suddenly fades away into the distance as shuffling sounds come from the other end, crackling on the speaker. Seokjin opens his eyes and frowns in confusion. The other end is now completely silent.

“Jeongguk?”

There is complete silence at first. And then.

“Hey.”

And it’s like all the cloud in his mind suddenly clears up, the darkness at the back of his mind enlightens. His soul is pulled back into his body. It’s scary how just one word in that voice has so much power over him. Seokjin’s hand shakes as he wipes the tears off his cheeks.

“Hey, sunshine,” Seokjin breathes out, trying to grasp into the little respite Yoongi has spared him. “I miss you so much. Can I come see you, please?”

“Aren’t you getting engaged tomorrow?” Yoongi’s voice is cold and emotionless but weak, like it pains him physically to get the words out. And it breaks Seokjin’s heart.

“No,” Seokjin rasps out. “I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain everything. Please just let me see you first.”

The silence stretches on the other end of the call. Seokjin sits back down on the floor with his back leaned against the couch and buries his face in his free hand. Taehyung hasn’t made a single sound.

“Jeongguk is so angry at you right now.” Yoongi says after a while, coughing into the phone.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Seokjin exhales. “I thought it was you who picked up.”

“Guess he was supposed to find out anyway. I just didn’t want it to be like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin repeats, rubbing his temples and the bridge of his nose. “Heard you’re sick.”

“A little. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yoongi-ah.”

“Mm?”

“I miss you so much.” Seokjin brings his knees to his chest. “I feel like I’m dying without you.”

All Seokjin hears on the other end is Yoongi’s ragged breathing. He’s sick, Yoongi’s running a fever. So of course it hurts to even breathe for him.

“Can I come now?” Seokjin asks again. “I promise I’ll behave.”

“No,” Yoongi’s tone is resilient despite sounding weak. “Maybe tomorrow after lunch.”

Seokjin sighs in relief. Even if the world ends tomorrow after lunch, he will push its schedule back only to see his Yoongi.

“I’ll be there,” Seokjin finally smiles into the phone even though Yoongi can’t see him. “See you soon.”

“Right.” Yoongi says before he cuts the call.

It’s like all his limbs give up on themselves as his phone slips out of his hand. Seokjin feels only a little better, knowing he will get to see Yoongi tomorrow. He wants to dance in excitement like a little child who got his first toy car, but he has no energy for that. So he hides his face in between his forearms.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” Taehyung finally speaks up after what seems like a millenia has passed. “Not even back then.”

He knows exactly what Taehyung is talking about. But that part of his life feels like an entirely different lifetime, and it was an entirely different version of Seokjin who lived it. He didn’t love Namjoon like this, not even close. Namjoon didn’t even know his real name, Seokjin could never be his real self when he was with him. Kim Namjoon only got a polished version of him that he fabricated only to hide who he really is.

But it’s different with Yoongi.

Yoongi has seen every little crevice of ugliness of Seokjin’s life. Yoongi knows what kind of baggage he carries, how troubled he is. Seokjin has shown Yoongi the nastiest sides of his moral principles, how rootless and ungrounded he is, just how hopeless.

And Yoongi knew they didn’t belong to each other. And yet, Yoongi chose to go all the way with him anyway. Even though it made no sense to give into that momentary slip of desire knowing there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Only a fool’s paradise.

So of course, this is how he gets without Yoongi.

He’s the only one who saw the grotesque behind the beauty and still wanted to stay.

Seokjin leans his head back on the couch and stares up at the ceiling. He’s so tired that he forgets about Taehyung’s existence, feeling the exhaustion catching up to him in the form of sleep. Finally, he thinks.

He can get some sleep.

***

Seokjin cleans up well. He wears a crisp white shirt and makes an effort to style his hair. He’s going to see Yoongi afterall.

Taking a deep breath in, he gets out of his car before opening the backseat and takes out two large packages. Seokjin went a little overboard with what he should get for Yoongi- oranges, kiwis, strawberries, raw honey, herbal tea, oatmilk, a hotpack, a cozy, warm blanket, some wet tissues and a small bouquet of daisies. And now he’s struggling to balance everything with his two hands. Maybe he should’ve brought Taehyung along.

Nevertheless, he manages, stumbles through the stairs and somehow makes it to the rooftop where he finally gets to put everything down gently on the floor as he prepares himself to knock on Yoongi’s door.

But it turns out he doesn’t have to.

Because Yoongi is already outside, sitting on a bedstead with a thin mattress as the inclined afternoon sun glows behind his gorgeous gummy smile, laughing up at Jeongguk animatedly telling him something Seokjin cannot hear. But he hears Yoongi’s laugh anyway, twinkling like the windchimes his mother loves so much. It’s warm and fuzzy, even from a distance and Seokjin wants to dip his toe into it until the warmth consumes him completely.

Jeongguk notices him first, stopping mid-sentence, until Yoongi gets confused and then follows his line of sight as well. Yoongi’s smile fades away upon seeing him. Seokjin’s heart sinks.

But then Yoongi looks back up at Jeongguk and gestures vaguely at Seokjin’s direction.

Jeongguk visibly deflates but walks towards Seokjin just the same, body taut and awkward like a teenager who doesn’t know what to do with his abrupt growth spurt. Seokjin remembers the last conversation he had with Jeongguk, remembers how angry he sounded at him, how much he yelled.

And he prepared himself to face Jeongguk’s newfound resentment towards him. If this is something he has to brave through to get to Yoongi, then he was ready for that.

But looking at Jeongguk now, he finds none of that wrath Seokjin prepared himself to face. Instead, there is a little unease, a little shame like he’s in a moral quandary with himself. Like he doesn’t know what he did wrong, if he did anything wrong.

“Hey, hyung.” Jeongguk greets him, without making eye contact. He’s looking at the floor instead, at all the bags Seokjin brought.

“Hey, Jeongguk-ah.”

“What are those?” He points at the bags.

Seokjin follows his gaze, “some stuff for Yoongi. I ordered some soup as well, they should be here any minute now.”

Jeongguk leans back on his heels, chuckles a little nervously. “Perks of being sick, huh? You must always have a feast when you’re sick.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to reply, but Yoongi exhales loudly from where he’s sitting.

“Jeon Jeongguk.” Yoongi warns. Seokjin chances a look at him before Jeongguk turns back around and huffs out a breath.

“Fine. Just. Give me a moment, hyung.” Jeongguk calls back over his shoulder. Then he turns to Seokjin again. “So.”

Seeing how Jeongguk is jittering nervously, Seokjin’s hands feel clammy. Is he going to curse at him again? Jeongguk inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Jeongguk says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. And oh? “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

To be honest, Seokjin is a bit surprised to hear him apologizing. He was very much prepared to deal with another slew of colourful curse words. An apology was not what he was expecting.

“Hey-”

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that without knowing the full story,” Jeongguk looks around nervously. “I just…got very angry because I thought you were playing with his feelings because- you’re committed to someone else.”

Seokjin inhales the cold air deeply, “I’m sorry too, Jeongguk-ah. I didn’t mean to hurt Yoongi.”

“Now I know,” Jeongguk looks up at him at last, blinking through his lashes with his big doe eyes. “Hyung told me it was mutual and he knew what he was getting into.”

Seokjin’s gaze shoots back at Yoongi on its own accord but he finds him standing now and staring away over the city’s skyline. “He told you that?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk sighs, “gave me a good scolding too.”

“Yoongi?” Seokjin looks back at him, “he scolded you?”

Jeongguk nods, “for yelling at you, yes. Look, I’m sorry, hyung. He is everything to me and I get really protective of him. So I lashed out on you because I thought you intentionally hurt him. But now that I know, I just feel so ashamed. I’m sorry hyung. You have done so much for us and I judged you without a second thought.”

Instead of answering, Seokjin reaches out and ruffles Jeongguk’s hair. This kid. He gives him a smile.

“No need to apologize so much,” Seokjin says, “you were just looking out for him.”

“Yes, that,” Jeongguk says pointedly. “And I will always look out for him. I don’t know what you two will do but whatever it is, make sure you don’t hurt him again.” He makes fists and raises his hands in front of Seokjin. “Or else you’ll have to fight me.”

The laugh that rips out of Seokjin is genuine, making his shoulders shake with so much fondness for Jeongguk that he’s sure this will deepen his imminent wrinkles. Jeongguk relaxes as well, laughing with him now that the awkwardness has melted off.

Once they stop, Seokjin asks him to open the door so that he could take the bags inside. And this time, Jeongguk carries both of the bags himself, elated that Yoongi can eat healthy as he recovers. Once everything is settled in the kitchen, Jeongguk brings Seokjin out again and pushes him in Yoongi’s direction.

Seokjin’s hands start feeling clammy again, at the sight of Yoongi’s back. His hair is sticking up at the back, his hoodie is one he’d seen a long time ago- boy vs world.

Yoongi turns around upon hearing Seokjin’s footsteps.

And Seokjin is nervous, he’s so delirious that he’s really not sure if he’s dreaming Yoongi up like this. Against the afternoon sun and bloomless jasmine plants. But he steps closer to Yoongi nonetheless, wanting to touch him and hold him close to make sure this is real. That he can see Yoongi in the flesh again.

“Please don’t kiss me in front of Jeongguk,” Yoongi blurts out.

Seokjin wasn’t going to. Truly. Totally not at all. He moves his head left and right and reaches up, stopping his hand right in front of Yoongi’s face. “May I?”

Yoongi stares at him first, gaze hard and studying every tick on his face. Seokjin fears Yoongi is going to decline, grab his wrist and throw him back over the roof and send him flying down until he crashes on the asphalt. But then Yoongi starts nodding slowly, and Seokjin’s breath hitches to a stop.

As he presses his palm on Yoongi’s forehead, he’s half expecting it to be raging hot like a pit of fire. But instead, Yoongi’s skin is warm like the light of a candle flame. As if the noise of his fever is gone, leaving behind only a recognizable aftermath.

Seokjin slides his hand down, lightly pressing the back of his fingers on his left cheek. And when Yoongi doesn’t protest, like he never does, Seokjin turns his hand and cups Yoongi’s cheek. He thumbs along Yoongi’s skin, feeling a bit obsessive with the way this contact seems to flow through his veins and arteries, carrying the gentle buzz of electricity to and away from his heart.

His thumb stops at the corner of Yoongi’s lips, “is Jeongguk still here?”

Yoongi doesn’t even look behind Seokjin to check and nods immediately. “Yes. Fever’s gone though.”

Yoongi shuffles then, moving in a way that forces Seokjin to drop his hand.

“You’re still warm.” Seokjin counters.

“It will go away soon.”

“You need to take more rest, Yoongi.”

“I feel fine,” Yoongi slides a hand up his nape. “Let’s go somewhere else. I’ve been craving some fresh air.”

He doesn’t wait for Seokjin to reply, just brushes past him and Jeongguk who was standing quietly in front of the door. Seokjin jogs after him when Yoongi starts climbing down the stairs without any more words.

Yoongi leads him along the winding streets, through the sweet smelling breeze. Seokjin offers to take him wherever he wants to go in his car, but refuses and says it’s really not that far. In the end, Seokjin finds himself inside a small park with Yoongi, who buys hotteok from the man selling various items of streetfood inside. He doesn’t listen when Seokjin offers to buy them for him.

“That’s not going to fulfill your nutritional needs,” Seokjin cannot help but blurt out.

Yoongi doesn’t pay any heed, and keeps walking along the crafted street.

“I’ve been craving hotteoks lately,” Yoongi shrugs, looking back around briefly every now and then to check if Seokjin is following him. As if Seokjin could do anything else.

Seokjin follows him around like a puppy, without any questions, with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Yoongi finds a big tree soon, by a mid-size artificial lake with ducks swimming by. They walk past parents with their children, grandfathers with their newspapers and some people walking their dogs.

“We’re moving out soon,” Yoongi says, leaning back against the bark of the tree. Finally stopping under the shade. “I think it’s time for a change. We found a place nearby. It has two bedrooms and a bathroom that’s inside the apartment.” Yoongi scrunches his face. “Jeongguk is old enough now, he needs his own space.”

And Seokjin feels like he’s floating on air, listening intently as he keeps staring at him. He was never supposed to see Yoongi again. So whatever piece of Yoongi he gets, he’s happy with it. Yoongi doesn’t even have to forgive him, he only needs to not put his guard up around him with Seokjin.

“It’s for the better,” Yoongi continues, “this apartment isn’t in liveable condition now. Rain water gets inside. It’s not safe for Jeongguk.”

“It’s not safe for you either.”

“That’s secondary.”

“No, it’s not.” Seokjin reasons, “if you’re not well then Jeongguk won’t be either. He came to me last night and he was really concerned about you-”

“You shouldn’t have told him-”

“I didn’t do it on purpose-”

“Jeongguk was so pissed I had to sit him down and tell him everything.” Yoongi looks away to the lake, his half eaten hotteok now forgotten. “It was very embarrassing.”

Seokjin inhales, “I’m sorry. I thought it was you-”

“Why would you?” Yoongi snaps his head at him furrowing his eyebrows, stunning Seokjin with his tone. “You knew I didn’t want to talk to you. So why didn’t it cross your mind that it’s unlikely I would pick it up?”

Seokjin curls his hands, “because I hoped you would.”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking down. “You’re lucky Jeongguk likes you so much.”

“You told him it was mutual.”

“Because it was,” Yoongi wraps the hotteok with the paper, clearly losing his appetite. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure that out.”

Seokjin blinks at him fast, feeling like he had been blindsided this whole time. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only for it to be crushed the next second. It had been difficult for him to think straight, to comprehend what was going on outside of his own head.

He inhales sharply, “I just didn’t want to desire something I couldn’t afford.” Seokjin repeats Yoongi’s words, because that’s exactly how he felt too. Seokjin didn’t think he deserved to be loved back, to be even wanted back. Not by Yoongi of all people.

Yoongi looks at him through his lashes, the warmth of his body painting his skin the same shy pink Seokjin loves to see so much. He leans further back on the bark with a hand between him and the tree. The soft breeze blows Yoongi’s straight hair away from his face. And he looks so beautiful that Seokjin can’t stop looking at him. He never could.

“I’m not as rich as you.”

“I’m not talking about wealth,” Seokjin shakes his head. “I didn’t think someone like you could want someone as lost as me.”

“That’s crazy,” Yoongi looks away when it becomes too much to maintain eye contact. “You were suffering so much inside your own head that you couldn’t comprehend anything outside of your own desires. Why do you think I made that painting of yours?”

Seokjin’s breath hitches to a stop. That feels like such a long time ago, although not much time has passed. But so many things transpired in the meantime that he lost track of his days.

“Did you like me then?” Seokjin’s heart starts beating so fast he can’t hear anything past its sound.

“It’s hard to say when it started,” Yoongi says, “but I knew you weren’t happy with Jiyoo-ssi. So I just thought…” Yoongi pauses, and then takes a very deep breath, closing his eyes and seemingly preparing himself for what he wants to say. “Since you helped us so much, I thought I’d repay you by helping you get out of that mess you were in. I thought I could help you figure out a way to break up with her and if you needed me to be a rebound, I was willing to play that part. I knew you wanted me and I didn’t hate you half as much as you thought I did.”

Instead of feeling like someone ripped his heart out, Seokjin feels warm overall. His ears heat up, a lovely blush spreads all over his neck. Up his face.

“But I didn’t know you’re gonna get engaged to her,” Yoongi continues, “and that changed the whole game. It’s one thing when she’s your girlfriend, but it’s an entirely different thing when you’re already talking of marriage. It felt like I was too late.”

Seokjin reaches out and fixes Yoongi’s wayward hair with his fingers. Yoongi flinches first in surprise before he relaxes again.

“So of course I told Jeongguk it was mutual,” Yoongi says again, “it wouldn’t have gotten to where it did if I didn’t feel the same way.”

Seokjin’s fingers trail down Yoongi’s face before he cups it again. Still pink, still warm.

“I would’ve asked you to stay if I had known,” Seokjin confesses, Yoongi’s quivering eyes meet his again. “I never meant to hurt you. I wouldn’t have let you go like that if I knew you wanted the same thing as I did.”

Yoongi reaches up and holds his wrists, then pries Seokjin’s hand away from his face.

“In hindsight, it’s better that you didn’t,” Yoongi says, letting him go as Seokjin’s hands lay limp by his side. “It’s better we don’t continue this while you’re married to someone else. I was very stressed out at the exhibition, and didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Right, Seokjin thinks, Yoongi still doesn’t know what happened after he left him that night. The decisions Seokjin had taken because of Yoongi, the storm he just passed through.

And to be honest, Seokjin does feel elated at the thought of telling Yoongi that he’s free now. That there are no chains tying him down and holding him back. That they can be together without having to worry about anything else. It never felt wrong to Seokjin, but maybe now Yoongi won’t feel like they’re doing something illegal.

“Would you,” Seokjin starts, feeling an electrifying buzz under his skin. “Would you have been okay with us being together if I wasn’t marrying her?”

Yoongi straightens up off the bark, stepping forward and Seokjin takes a step back to give him the space.

“Maybe,” Yoongi says softly, “there’s no point in wondering about that now.”

“Just…hypothetically,” Seokjin says, Yoongi walks past him and back into the paved path. Seokjin turns around and follows him. “If Jiyoo wasn’t in the picture, would you be willing to date me?”

“No,” Yoongi throws back.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiot. I don’t date idiots.”

“Fine,” Seokjin can’t keep the smile from blooming on his face that Yoongi can’t see because he’s walking ahead with his back to Seokjin. And he makes no effort to cross Yoongi. “Would you at least be friends with me?”

“Jury’s out on that one.”

“I’m not half as bad as a friend.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks and turns around, a little out of breath at this point. But all Seokjin can focus on are his cheeks. Pink, pink, pink.

“I’m really not in the headspace to hypothetically think about dating and being friends with you. You have caused me enough suffering-”

“I’m not marrying Jiyoo,” Seokjin finally announces, watching as Yoongi’s mouth hangs open being cut off mid sentence. He smiles, “I broke up with her. Engagement’s cancelled, wedding’s called off. And I quit my job. All in the span of minutes after you left me under the chandelier. I know I should’ve done it earlier. But it’s better late than never and I’m free now.”

Yoongi is visibly stunned, blinking hard and trying to make sense of Seokjin’s words.

Seokjin laughs this time, a vibration originating from deep within. Genuinely feeling happy and free for the first time in decades.

“That’s what I came to tell you today. That now I’m single and jobless,” he says, “and very much available for you to snatch me up. The offer extends for an eternity. So avail it whenever you want, whenever you need me. I don’t mind, because I love you and I promise you that much will never change. We don’t have to play hide and seek anymore. I can hold your hand wherever I want to. You’ll always have me at your beck and call. So just tell me whenever you’re ready.” Seokjin watches as Yoongi’s blush deepens. With one last smile, he says, “I’ll forever be waiting right here for you, my love.”

Next time when Yoongi blinks, Seokjin notices the tears that roll down his face. The inclined afternoon sunrays fall gently on Yoongi’s face, making his tears sparkle like gold dust.

“I’m not going to date you,” Yoongi murmurs, wiping his face with the back of his hand. But Seokjin hears him just the same. “Screw you, fuck you! I don’t like you at all!”

Seokjin huffs out a soft chuckle at being cursed and blatantly rejected, reaching out as he steps closer to Yoongi.

“Come here.”

Yoongi buries his face in Seokjin’s chest without any preamble, wrapping his arms tightly around him. And it’s like Seokjin can finally breathe with Yoongi in his arms, pressing his face into him like he wants to break his rib cages and set his heart free.

And for the first time ever, Seokjin feels like he knows what freedom truly is. What it tastes like, what it looks like. What it feels like to have what he wants.

“This is the last time you’ll be crying because of me,” Seokjin kisses Yoongi’s temple. “I’ll never hurt you again, sweetpea. I’m sorry for everything. I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi sobs harder the more Seokjin speaks, and Seokjin kisses his warm forehead and his wet eyes and his button nose as his own eyes tear up in the process. He will make sure Yoongi always has a smile on his face from this moment onwards, he’ll make sure Yoongi never has to worry about anything ever again in his life.

“Sweetheart.”

“You’re stupid,” Yoongi grits out through his sobs, “you’re so stupid, hyung.”

“I know, I know,” Seokjin agrees, because it’s true and he’s not going to deny Yoongi anything ever again. He cups Yoongi’s face and wipes his tears away with his sleeve. Yoongi is red all over now, his skin heating up with every single second.

“Let’s get you home,” Seokjin says as he realizes Yoongi’s fever is beginning to rage up again. “You need to rest, my love.”

Back in Yoongi and Jeongguk’s one-room rooftop apartment, Seokjin feeds soup to Yoongi as Jeongguk sits beside him on the floor and wipes his face with a wet napkin. When Seokjin’s done, he helps Yoongi take his medicine and lays him down on the bed, tucking him safely under the bed and away from the cruel world.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Jeongguk asks with concern in his big doe eyes when Yoongi’s lashes flutter away into a sleep.

“Yes,” Seokjin reassures him with a smile, ruffling his hair in endearment. This little boy will be in his life forever as well and he’s more than relieved about it. “And you’ll be okay too, kid.”

***

With crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, Seokjin leans back at the railing of the restaurant balcony. The big spectacle in front of him is getting on his nerves.

There is a big arch at the center corner of the balcony made entirely out of fresh, red roses in the shape of a heart. Rose petals are splayed out all over the floor starting from the entrance and there are big led lights that spell out “Will You Marry Me?”

And Seokjin is pissed. Because the man who arranged it all is wearing a crisp suit and kneeling down in front of a woman wearing a blue evening gown with an opened velvet box in his hand and it’s making Seokjin see all shades of green in front of him.

The woman screams a resounding yes, and pulls the man up and kisses him square on the mouth as the crowd around them erupts into loud cheers and camera shutters keep going off from all directions.

This is what he gets for being half an hour early. Serves him right.

It may be misplaced, but Seokjin wishes he could have something like this too. The last time marriage was in his books it had been a terrible situation he managed to get out of. But with Yoongi’s insistence that they should just stay friends, he’s not sure if he will get to do this for him anytime soon.

Then a thought occurs to him.

Maybe this is what Yoongi wants instead? Yoongi said he didn’t want to date Seokjin, but he didn’t say anything against marriage. Granted, Seokjin hadn’t asked as of yet, but still. Maybe he should try to broach the topic and test the waters.

Yoongi texts him twenty minutes later, telling him that he’s almost arrived. By this time, the engaged couple has moved on to their seats inside the main restaurant. And it gives Seokjin some room to breathe and walk around. His back was starting to feel cramped.

Seokjin walks around with his hands shoved in his pockets, carefully stepping over the rose petals, deep in thought. His mother has been asking him to introduce Yoongi to her but he hasn’t had the heart to ask Yoongi yet. The shells still belong to eggs, and Seokjin is still being very careful about not pushing Yoongi too hard.

His dad had called him a few times, trying to convince him to rethink his decisions and marry Jiyoo. But after the second call, Seokjin stopped picking up. He was this close to blocking his number when his mother finally stepped in and put Kim Sunghoon back in his place.

And Song Jiyoo, well, that is a name Seokjin hadn’t seen on his face since the night of the exhibition. He’s heard in the passing that Song Jiyoo had stopped going to work as well and no one really knows where she is at the moment. But rumour has it that she left the country and Dr Song has been trying to stop the murmurs about the break up in the halls. He’s become way more resentful and strict now, and keeps increasing mandatory hours much to his employees dismay. Everyone is now displeased and a slew of resignation has already started. He only heard it in the passing though, it’s not like Jimin calls him every other day to complain and tell him about all the work gossip. Park Jimin is preparing to resign too.

Kim Taehyung is currently spending some time with his parents in Daegu, finally getting around the idea of having an adopted sister. He video calls him everyday with brand new episodes of melodrama with his extended family, his father’s strawberry farm and a group of teenage girls who wouldn’t leave him alone.

Seokjin paces around, absentmindedly stopping at the center of the red carpet sprawled across the balcony. It starts from the elevator and ends at the LED lights with the proposal. And as for Seokjin himself, he’s taking things slow for the first time in his life. He’s flowing through life with a deserved lack of urgency. The only headache he has right now is figuring out what to have for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And it stresses him out on the daily.

“What the fuck, hyung?!”

Seokjin jumps at the voice, shrieking as he turns to see Yoongi standing a few steps out of the elevator and on the red carpet. Seokjin doesn’t understand what he did wrong this time, but Yoongi’s eyes are wide open in horror.

“What?” Seokjin asks, “what did I do?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to do this. Are you crazy?” Yoongi rants. “Why did you think this was a good idea?”

Seokjin blinks, trying to figure out what he actually did for Yoongi to react like this. “What are you talking about? Why did I think what was a good idea? Do you not like this place?”

Yoongi stares at him first without answering, then he points to something behind him and says, “don’t you think this is inappropriate? We’re not even dating.”

Seokjin turns his head around slowly, mortified to find the LED lights blinking on and off. He’s standing right in the middle of the carpet and from Yoongi’s point of view it looks like Seokjin was waiting for him to come out so that he can propose to him.

“Ah, shit.”

“I can’t believe this,” Yoongi huffs out in frustration. Seokjin turns back around just in time to see him spinning around on his heels and walking back into the elevator. “Unbelievable. Insufferable. Absolutely stupid!”

“Yoongi-ah, it’s not what it looks like!” Seokjin calls after him but Yoongi is already pressing the button to close the elevator door. “Yah!”

Seokjin jogs runs after him, like he always did. But he’s too late and the door closes right on his face. Without another way, Seokjin runs around to take the stairs instead.

By the time he reaches the ground floor, Seokjin is panting, out of breath and frantically looking around to find Yoongi. And when he sees him, Yoongi is stomping out of the elevator. Seokjin doesn’t waste a single second to run after him, his lungs screaming for respite.

“Yoongi-ah!”

Yoongi hears him just fine and turns around, his face is all red in anger or embarrassment, Seokjin can’t tell.

“Just. Why?”

Seokjin stops in front of him, bending down to hold his knees and breath out. “Would you please listen to me?”

Yoongi crosses his arms, “fine.”

“That wasn’t me.” Seokjin stands straight and holds his chest, it’s aching all over. “I didn’t do it. There was another couple who just got engaged. The man prepared all of that. I was simply just waiting for you at the wrong place at the wrong time I guess.”

Yoongi’s mouth hangs open, his crossed hands loosening up, “oh.”

Right, oh. Seokjin huffs out a breath. “Did you really think I was gonna ask you to marry me tonight?”

“I…uh. No, I mean-” Yoongi stammers. “So you’re not asking me to marry you?”

“No!” Seokjin laughs a little nervously. Of course not, because Yoongi doesn’t want that right now. “Are you insane?”

“Right, right.” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, blushing a bright red. “How…uh, stupid of me to think that.”

And he thought Yoongi was gonna be relieved to know that the proposal wasn’t for him by Seokjin. But something about the way Yoongi’s face falls makes his stomach queasy as hell. He doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that at all.

“Yoongi-”

“Let’s just go somewhere else?” Yoongi cuts him off, pointing a thumb behind him. “There are other places nearby. This one is too fancy.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for him to answer and starts walking in the opposite direction, leaving Seokjin no other choice but to follow him.

Slamming the front door closed, Seokjin pins Yoongi to the door and shoves his tongue straight down his throat. Yoongi’s hands are quick to find Seokjin’s belt, unbuckling it with swift motions as he moans into him.

Seokjin grabs his wrist to stop him, pinning Yoongi’s hands to the door as well, pressing his entire body on him flush and humping against his groin. He parts with Yoongi, only to trail hungry kisses along his jawline and clawing his teeth on the crook of his neck. Biting and sucking and lapping his tongue all over his exposed skin.

He never holds himself back with Yoongi, and Yoongi usually doesn’t protest his antics either. This one time when Seokjin visited him right after they moved in their new two-bedroom apartment and Jeongguk was outside, Seokjin snatched the opportunity to push him down on the covered mattress and fucked him in his clothes. He had been waiting for too long.

Yoongi doesn’t protest when Seokjin slides his hands inside his pants and claws into his ass cheek, holding them as leverage as he hoists him up. Yoongi wraps his legs around Seokjin’s waist in reflex, latching his teeth on the skin under Seokjin’s ear in retaliation. He groans after Seokjin carries him back into his room and drops him on his bed, then turning him around so Yoongi is lying down on his stomach with his face pressed into the pillow.

It doesn’t take much time for Seokjin to take his shirt off and tie Yoongi’s hands together at his back, then unzipping Yoongi’s pants and pulling it down along with his underwear. Seokjin ruts against Yoongi’s naked ass, leaning down to lick the shell of his ear.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Seokjin mumbles against his skin, reaching out to the nightstand to grab the lube.

“You always hurt,” Yoongi’s voice comes out half muffled. “I haven’t gotten used to you yet.”

Seokjin presses a lubed finger into him, then two and by the time it eventually becomes three, Yoongi starts mewling under him and begging Seokjin to just fuck him and put him out of his misery already.

When he finally slides inside him in one swift motion, Yoongi cries out and starts cursing his entire bloodline, even though most of it disappear into the pillow. Seokjin shoves a hand under Yoongi, and wraps his fingers around the length trapped between him and the bed. The precum is warm in his fingers as he aligns both of his strokes. And then shoves his tongue in Yoongi’s ear to top it off.

“Fuck, hyung,” Yoongi cries out, writhing under him and trying to fight back. But his hands are tied and the only thing Yoongi can do in retaliation is curse him some more.

“Have I not fucked you enough times already, hm?” Seokjin teases. “How greedy of you, Yoongi.”

Seokjin’s thrusts are fast and unkind, rough against Yoongi’s rawness because he knows this is exactly how Yoongi likes it. Seokjin feels him growing and trembling in his hand as Yoongi rubs his hips on the bed. There’s not much Yoongi can do to save himself before he starts writhing uncontrollably underneath Seokjin’s weight and soils the bedsheet without any warning. Seokjin feels it in his hands, thrusting him throughout his orgasm and pumping out all that hot, sticky liquid.

He pulls out entirely then, grabs Yoongi’s waist and turns him around to face him. Yoongi wriggles in his hold until he sits on his knees, spent and spread out everywhere. Hands still tied. Seokjin threads his sticky fingers into Yoongi’s hair, guiding his mouth towards himself until Yoongi opens up and shoves his entire length into his mouth.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to orgasm, Yoongi’s tongue ruthlessly lapping all over and sucking the soul out of him. Seokjin comes down Yoongi’s throat, who drinks it all up without a single complaint.

The bedsheet is shoved inside the washing machine and Seokjin drags Yoongi inside the shower. He lets the water run warm down their backs, making out with Yoongi under the shower with his fingers pushed inside him before he drops to his knees in front of Yoongi and makes him come one more time.

Because they ruined the bed, Seokjin makes the executive decision to sleep in one of the guest rooms instead. He climbs on the bed after Yoongi tucks himself under the blanket and makes himself at home. Seokjin slides under the blanket as well and pulls Yoongi close, wriggling by his side before he’s practically lying on top of Yoongi again.

“Hi,” he mumbles, pressing his lips on Yoongi’s chin.

“Are you not going to let me sleep?” Yoongi complains, but slides his hands under Seokjin’s shirt nonetheless.

“When have I ever,” Seokjin ducks down nips on the skin on Yoongi’s throat.

It’s true. They barely get any sleep any time Yoongi stays over and sleep in through Yoongi’s multiple alarms in the morning. But there’s relief in knowing that there is no need to hurry anymore. Seokjin can wake up as late in the morning as he wants and Yoongi will still be there in his arms. And oftentimes Seokjin has found himself wondering how it’d be nice to have this with Yoongi every morning.

Seokjin’s tongue peeks out again, licking all over Yoongi’s neck, making him chuckle like he’s tickling all over.

“Move in with me?” Seokjin blurts out against his skin. “This house starts feeling empty whenever you leave.”

Yoongi’s laugh stops, Seokjin feels him pushing him up on his chest.

“Hyung.”

Seokjin hovers over him for a moment, then he leans down to kiss him on his soft, soft cotton candy mouth.

“Don’t answer that question,” Seokjin says when he parts and lies back down beside Yoongi, who turns around and buries his face in his chest. He gets it, he truly does. Because they’re not dating and asking Yoongi to move in would be so unfair to him right now.

He runs a hand down Yoongi’s hair, humming a gentle tune until they both fall asleep.

***

Seokjin parks the car in front of his mother’s house, turning the engine off as silence freezes the temperature inside the car.

“Relax, Yoongi.”

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair in frustration and Seokjin cannot help but purse his lips in an attempt to not smile.

“You’re laughing,” Yoongi accuses him.

“I’m not!” Seokjin defends himself, but he ends up chuckling anyway.

“I’m breaking out in sweats and you’re laughing at me!”

Seokjin covers his mouth, then pretends to cough into his fist. It was quite a challenge trying to convince Yoongi to visit his mother. On one hand, Yoongi wasn’t entirely keen on it while on the other hand, Seokjin’s mother told him - “don’t even bother to set foot inside my house again if you don’t bring Yoongi next time you visit.” Seokjin told her she was being unfair and she said- “so are you!” It was almost like being sandwiched between two unmoveable brick walls. And then Yoongi finally gave in because Seokjin somehow convinced him that it’s better to just get it over with instead of stretching the matter out.

Now that they’re finally here, Yoongi is fidgeting in his seat and trying to find excuses to back out of this again.

“I think I should go check on Jeongguk,” Yoongi clears his throat. “Who knows what he’s up to.”

Seokjin practically locked Jeonnguk in his house and gave him unsupervised access to his playstation. He knows Jeongguk is just fine, he won’t even realize they’re gone.

“He’s fine.”

“He could set your house on fire.”

“Jeongguk is an excellent cook.”

“I think I left my clothes-”

“Your clothes are in my bag.”

Without any more counters, Yoongi exhales in the end. And Seokjin reaches out to take his hand in his. He understands why Yoongi is nervous. Yoongi isn’t used to this, but neither is Seokjin. He doesn’t even remember what it felt like bringing his partner to meet his parents. But it’s different and difficult for Yoongi because…

Even though Yoongi has never outright said it to his face, Seokjin knows that he feels insecure about his background and his upbringing. And as much as Seokjin tries to make him feel like he belongs with him just fine, it is still one of the reasons why Yoongi keeps saying they’re not dating. Because somewhere deep down, Yoongi still thinks Seokjin is somewhat embarrassed to be seen with him.

Which is nuts, Seokjin has never said or done anything to make him feel like that. He always holds Yoongi’s hand everywhere they go, everyone they meet. He takes candid pictures of Yoongi and posts them on his socials. Seokjin never treats him like he’s anything less than him just because of his background. But he understands that it might take Yoongi a while before he gets used to this.

“Hey,” Seokjin rubs the back of his hand, then kisses his knuckles. “My mom is really friendly. You’ll like her.”

Yoongi sighs, looking at him sideways, “that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“I know,” Seokjin drops their hands and rests them on his lap. “And you’re a lovely person. She’s going to love you.”

“You don’t know that,” Yoongi screws his eyes shut.

“I know my mom and I know you and I think you two are perfect for each other.”

Yoongi glares at him, yanking his hand away and making Seokjin laugh in the process.

“What an idiot.”

They both get out of the car after a minute. Seokjin brings their bag out from the backseat and meets Yoongi who is waiting in the doorway. He’s not sure what comes over him then, but he wraps a hand around Yoongi’s shoulder and kisses his temple.

“Let’s go,” Seokjin says as he opens the gate and enters the front yard. “The sooner we start this, the sooner it’ll be over.”

He hears Yoongi following him inside, as they stroll through the walkway towards the front door.

“Does she think we’re together?” Yoongi asks. “Let me carry the bag.”

“It’s fine.” Seokjin looks back over his shoulder. “She knows we’re not dating.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Yoongi huffs out a breath.

Seokjin laughs and shakes his head, as he rings the doorbell and waits on the front porch. He can already smell the very familiar smell of freshly baked breads and chocolate cakes. Yoongi joins him only after a couple of seconds.

Under the golden porch-light, standing side by side as he stares at Yoongi, Seokjin realizes that no matter how lightly they’re taking this, there is no coming back once Yoongi meets his mother. People do not bring their casual hook-ups and one-night stands to meet their parents. Besides, Yoongi was never anything casual to him. He was always the one who had been etched into his soul since the start, a dream he once dreamt of in moonless starlight.

But this? This feels serious.

“Hey,” Seokjin calls him again, watching as Yoongi picks at his nails.

Yoongi startles and looks up at him. “Hi.”

“You’re not dating anyone else, are you?” Seokjin jokes, raising a teasing eyebrow at him. “Is that why you keep saying we’re not together?”

Yoongi ends up chuckling, some of that nerve leaving him be. He rolls his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you know if I was?”

“That is true,” Seokjin shrugs. “But don’t, okay?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t date anyone else.”

Yoongi stares up at him first, tilting his head in confusion. When he focuses hard, Seokjin can differentiate each of his eyelashes. One, two, countless. And only then he realizes how close Yoongi is standing to him. Snuggled close as if he’s terrified of what’s coming next, as if he doesn’t want to face this alone.

It catches Seokjin off guard when Yoongi stands on his tip toes and kisses him. It’s soft, but his lips quiver in a sudden panic. Seokjin’s grip on the strap of the bag tightens as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss and-

“Seokjinnie! And…oh!”

Yoongi shoves him so hard it sends Seokjin stumbling backwards. But he manages not to fall on his ass. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve been caught kissing in front of people but that’s mostly because Seokjin cannot keep his hands to himself. And that’s excluding all the times Jeongguk walked in on them making out.

Seokjin’s mother is standing at the doorway with a hand covering her mouth, trying to suppress her laugh. Yoongi takes a step back. Mortified.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Mother dearest clears her throat, “I’m sure there are many wonderful ways we can interpret what I just saw but we can get back to this after dinner. Aren’t you two hungry?”

“Starving,” Seokjin mumbles. Then he straightens up. “Mom, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, my mom.”

“Right,” Yoongi starts jittering again, but he manages to bow. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Seokjin’s mother gasps out so loudly that it startles Yoongi. Seokjin snorts.

“Ma’am?!” With a hand over her heart, she reaches out and ruffles Yoongi’s hair. “You can call me eomeoni.”

“I-”

“Mom, can we-”

“Right!” She jumps, backing away to give them space. “Come in both of you. I’ll prepare the table. You two go freshen up quick before the food gets cold.”

Seokjin gestures to Yoongi to enter first, following him as he does as well. He closes and locks the door behind him.

His mother scrambles, aligning the chairs by the table. “I’ve cleaned up your room, Seokjin-ah. You always leave it such a mess whenever you stay over. I’ve also added another pillow and an extra blanket-”

“It’s okay, I can sleep on the couch. It’s fine.”

Silence falls thickly into the living room at Yoongi’s words. His mother stops, holding on to a chair halfway into the table. “What? No way-”

Seokjin reaches out slowly and slips his hand into Yoongi’s trembling hand, already pulling him up the stairs.

“Don’t worry, mom. He’ll stay with me in my room.”

“Hyung, it’s fine.”

He opens the door to his room and pulls him inside, gently making him sit down on his bed. Seokjin drops his bag on the floor and crouches down in front of Yoongi.

“Do you see how big the bed is?” Seokjin asks softly. “We can both fit in just fine. Even Jeongguk can snuggle in if he wants. It’s okay. There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you sleep on the couch.”

“But your mom,” Yoongi says, “she might think we’re…but we’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Seokjin stands back up, “don’t even think about it.”

Dinner is a huge feast. Seokjin’s mother went overboard and then some to make literally every dish possible. Yoongi has trouble finishing even half of the items before he announces he’s full and Seokjin’s mother takes it to heart. In the end, she calms down when Yoongi promises he will pack everything up and take it all back home.

It goes surprisingly well. Yoongi’s nervousness wears off by the end of dinner when his mom brings out her signature cheesecake for dessert, which Yoongi finishes in a breath.

“So Seokjin-ah,” his mother asks when they’re almost done and Yoongi and Seokjin help her clean the table out. “What are you planning to do now?”

Seokjin sighs, Yoongi stiffens beside him. Sensing how the conversation is veering towards being too personal.

“Good question,” Seokjin looks up, pretending to be deep in thought, “I don’t know.”

“Yah,” his mom frowns, “you can’t just sit around and burn through your savings.”

“I have enough in my account to feed my next three generations three times a day. I’ll be fine.”

His mom presses his temples, a sight he’s too used to seeing. “You’re more than capable of doing more than just…doing nothing. Savings will eventually run out.”

Yoongi clears his throat, finishes stacking the plates on top of each other. “I’ll go upstairs and check up on Jeongguk.”

Seokjin follows his move, “Yoongi-ah it’s-”

But Yoongi is gone before he can even finish his sentence.

“I like him,” eomeoni says, resting her chin on her face. “He’s very well behaved and obedient. Very gentle. Very cute.”

Seokjin nods, “he is every one of those things.”

“Well, if you want to start a family with him, you should start thinking of an income source.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“What?” His mom protests at his behaviour. “I’m serious. Do you think he’s going to want to settle down with someone who makes no money?”

Seokjin pulls out a chair and sits down. “I will get back to work. But not right now, okay mom? I need a break. I’ll go back when I’m ready again. Just not right now.”

His mom stares at him, then slowly nods. “Okay. If you say so. I won’t argue with you against this.”

Seokjin leans back on the chair, takes a deep breath.

“I was thinking of renting out my apartment.”

“What?!” She drops her hand on the table with a thud.

He chuckles first. He’s been thinking about this for a while now. Yoongi isn’t moving in with him and staying in that painfully grey apartment with no other signs of life makes him feel suffocated. It doesn’t feel like home, it never did. So he’s been thinking of moving out and putting his apartment up for rent as he searches to rent a small apartment to live by himself. His own apartment is incredibly luxurious, so he knows the rent would be high enough for him to consider it as a proper income source. And it would cover the cost of the small apartment and everything else just fine. Seokjin has already done the math, he’ll even have extra money to save up for Jeongguk. He’ll get by for the time being.

His mom doesn’t oppose any of it, says she will just trust Seokjin’s decisions and says that she’s glad Seokjin has a vague roadmap as of right now.

Going back inside his room, Seokjin finds Yoongi sitting on the bed and talking on the phone.

“Jeongguk-ah, please stop playing games and have some proper food instead of snacks,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. Seokjin closes the door behind him. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine. She’s very sweet and kind…yeah…made me miss my mom too…I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up….go back to bed quickly. Don’t stay up…okay. Good night. Love you too.”

Something swirls up in Seokjin’s stomach, he’s not sure what it is. He’s been waiting very patiently to hear those words from Yoongi and as much as he’s giving all the time that he needs, he won’t lie, it’d be nice to have Yoongi direct those words to him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Seokjin jolts, getting out of his reverie. “Nothing. I’ll just take a quick trip to the bathroom.”

When Seokjin comes back, he finds Yoongi lying down on one corner of the bed, tucked under the blanket his mother left here. Seokjin gets under the blanket too, but on the other side. Yoongi’s back is to him as he’s facing Yoongi’s bed. And he thinks regrettably that this bed might be a bit too big.

“Are you asleep?” He calls and watches Yoongi shuffle until he turns back around to face Seokjin as well.

“No,” Yoongi smiles, “I’m not even sleepy.”

Seokjin scoots closer to him, closing the distance. “Neither am I.”

He reaches out then, sliding his hand around Yoongi’s neck. Pulling him close and kissing him. Yoongi’s lips are soft, tasting like remnants of cheesecake. There is no urgency in the kiss, no hurry like they’re running out of time. Seokjin just wants him close, wants him here always.

“I’m moving out.” Seokjin announces when he parts. “I’ll put my apartment to rent along with my furniture. Meanwhile I’m also looking for a small apartment to rent myself. If there are any around where you live, please let me know.”

Even in the dark, Yoongi’s wide eyes don’t escape him. He looks dumbfounded, as if this is no string of words he ever thought he’d be hearing. And Seokjin doesn’t blame him. Yoongi had no idea about it. So he tells him his whole plan.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, grazing the back of his hand along Seokjin’s face. Seokjin leans into the touch.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “I want to be as close to you as possible.”

“Really, now?”

Seokjin nods, “isn’t that obvious?”

Yoongi stays quiet for a while and Seokjin thinks this is the end of the conversation. Yoongi will say goodnight and turn around and go back to sleep any time now. But then, Yoongi pulls him close and leaves a very light, very tiny kiss on his lips.

“Move in with us then,” Yoongi asks, and Seokjin’s breath hitches to such an abrupt stop that he’s not sure his lungs will ever start back up.

“Yoongi-ah.”

“I’m sure Jeongguk will love having you around.” Yoongi smiles against his lips, “so will I.”

It always made Seokjin wonder why Yoongi was never interested in living with him permanently despite staying over every now and then. But now that he’s asking him to move in instead, it puts things into perspective. Seokjin never felt like that place was home, so what were the chances that Yoongi would? It makes sense. He couldn’t bring Yoongi there and expect him to be happy. It was never because Yoongi didn’t want to live with him, it was always about that place feeling too cold to nurse a family.

“We have two bedrooms,” Yoongi continues, “you can stay in mine.”

“Really?” Seokjin jokes, shuffling as he slowly pins Yoongi down on his back, hovering on top of him. “Where will you stay then?”

He leans down to kiss him, tickling him, making Yoongi giggle into his mouth.

Yoongi thrashes around left and right, trying to free himself from Seokjin’s torture. And succeeds by tickling Seokjin back.

“On the couch!” Yoongi breathes out when Seokjin slips his tongue out.

“What is it with you and couches?”

“It's a nice piece of furniture.”

Seokjin latches his mouth on Yoongi’s neck. “Did we ever have sex on my couch?”

“I don’t think so. You always prefer to have me on your bed.” Yoongi inhales sharply when Seokjin bites him. “Don’t leave a mark. I have to face your mom in the morning.”

Seokjin sucks on the spot harder, sliding his hands under Yoongi’s pajamas and pulling them down.

“Too late for that.”

‘Did you-” Yoongi stops to gasp when Seokjin wraps his fingers around him and starts stroking. “Did you…bring lube?”

Seokjin parts, sitting down on his knees and admires his artwork in the form of a messy looking Yoongi. Shirt already shoved to the side, hair gone haywire. He looks fucked out already.

“Honeybee, I never go anywhere with you without lube.”

This time as Seokjin fucks him…no, scratch that. This time as Seokjin makes love to him, he’s careful and gentle. Because there is no hurry anymore. This is the first of many nights of falling asleep alongside Yoongi on the daily. Seokjin will live with him, he will have Yoongi around all the time. They won’t have to count the hours anymore, or the days until Yoongi stays over again.

So Seokjin makes love to him slowly, deliberately, bit by bit, drawing out the pleasure for both of them. Yoongi kisses him with a purpose, deep but gentle, drinking up all the moans Seokjin makes as he draws closer in. He slides in as further up as he can go, trying to reach into places no one’s ever been in. Because he wants this to be final. This is where he’s going to end his search for contentment.

This time, they come together. Seokjin muffles Yoongi’s moans by kissing him through it.

“That was to say,” Seokjin pants when he pulls out, scrunching his face as Yoongi winces, “I accept your offer.”

“You don’t say?”

“I’ll bless you with my extraordinary presence 24/7.”

“On second thought-”

Seokjin kisses him again, there is no taking back such offers.

***

Seokjin groans and wriggles on the bed as his afternoon nap is cut short at the smell of freshly made pancakes.

He turns around, eyes still closed. Blindly reaching around, he somehow manages to find Yoongi’s designated pillow, pulling it up to his face and inhaling Yoongi’s smell on it. Yoongi is not on the bed beside him, he can tell even in his half-sleep, half-awake state.

A bit of the sun ray slips through the window, through the curtains and on his face. Seokjin slowly feels himself waking up little by little. But he’s still not awake entirely. He’s still half dreaming about pancakes and cotton candies.

There are sounds of footsteps too, in his dream, someone walks in inside the room. The footsteps are soft, quiet, endearing as though whoever it is, is being very careful not to wake him up.

There are movements now, someone crouches down on the floor by him beside the bed. Running their hands through his hair, maybe to wake him up but it only makes Seokjin want to lean further into his sleep. The warmth of the sun doesn’t help either.

A touch on his lips, fingers grazing along his sleepy pout like the feet of tiny butterflies. There is the unmistakable sound of a breath, one he knows too well, can tell who it belongs to even in his sleep.

Soft lips press onto his own, even in his sleep, he can make out the shape. The exact way Yoongi likes to nip on the skin.

A whisper- “I love you, too.”

And this voice is something he will recognize even if it was distorted.

Seokjin opens his eyes slowly, the very familiar face smiling in front him, at him, for him.

“Wake up, sleepy head.” Yoongi grazes his knuckles along Seokjin’s jaw, resting his chin on his elbow on the bed. Right beside Seokjin.

“Say that again?” Seokjin mumbles. “Say that thing again.”

Yoongi leaves another soft kiss on his chin. “I love you.”

So he didn’t just dream that up in his sleep in the afternoon, in their small, shared apartment, in their own room.

He had thought about this moment a thousand times before. He thought about how it’d make him jump and make his heart stop and his breath hitch. In his imagination, Yoongi’s confession makes his head spin, his world tilt on its axis. But none of that happens in reality. If he’s being honest, none of that even compares.

Yoongi’s words make him feel as though he’s finally at rest, at peace, as his heart starts beating more steadily. It feels like a soothe after a burn, a cut closing in, a wound not hurting anymore. Yoongi’s love is gentle and adoring, glowing in the sun, washing up all his earthly worries.

“You look like you’re seeing a ghost.”

Seokjin grazes his knuckles over Yoongi’s cheeks, the light of the sun making it seem like there’s a halo around him.

“You’re just as luminescent as one.”

Yoongi snorts, making Seokjin smile sleepily. “Dumbass.”

“Mm. Only for you.”

“I made pancakes,” Yoongi says, patting his face, “get up before Jeongguk eats all of them.”

Seokjin groans as Yoongi stands back up, pulling Seokjin up along with him. Yoongi starts for the door, Seokjin rubs the sleep from his eyes.

He watches Yoongi go, stopping at the doorway and turning back around to stare at Seokjin again. Yoongi leans his head sideways on the frame, crossing his arms and waiting for Seokjin to join him.

And Seokjin does. He gets up and goes to the love of his life, kissing his forehead before embracing him, feeling Yoongi’s heart beat against his own.

Feeling like for the first time ever, everything went right just the way he wanted.

~The End~