Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had to have been a dream.

Yoongi had been dreaming, he was sure of it. There were lights flashing and a dark club and hundreds of people dancing and he was onstage, at the center of it all. It was his music they were dancing to, his voice they were all hearing, making them rapturous with excitement as their bodies pressed close together.

Slowly, he became aware that the ear-splitting sound of his phone ringing incessantly, at--Yoongi cracked one eye open enough to read the display on the tiny object--9:13 in the morning on a Saturday, wasn’t actually part of that wonderful fantasy. After that, he was just cranky. He would have been cranky anyway, because it was 9:13 on a Saturday morning, and Namjoon was calling, and Namjoon knew better.

Then again, he’d been calling for what Yoongi figured was the better part of an hour, so obviously Namjoon didn’t know anything about his soon to be ex-best friend of nearly a decade.

He forced one arm out from under his pillow, flailing it in the direction of the bedside table, swiping uselessly at his still-ringing phone until he managed, through some miracle, to knock it onto the bed with him. Yoongi didn’t have the time or presence of mind to wonder how that had happened, when it should have fallen onto the floor and made everything in his life harder. He needed to shut the ringing up before his head exploded.

Grumbling under his breath, Yoongi stabbed at the answer button futilely until it did its job, and then pawed at the speakerphone button until Namjoon’s voice came crackling out of the small speaker.

“Bro, I’ve been calling you for an hour. Why haven’t you been answering?”

Yoongi licked his lips, quelling any and all urges to call Kim Namjoon out on what a fucktard he was. He would get to that.

“What,” Yoongi began, hearing how croaky he sounded and pausing to fumble the cap off the bottle of water he kept next to the bed and take a long sip before continuing. “What the everloving fuck do you want, Satan?”

A beat of silence passed, and when Namjoon replied, he sounded amused. “That’s a little harsh, man.”

Yoongi worked hard to make his eyes open to slits, glaring at the time again. “It’s nine-damn-fourteen in the morning, you heathen. Everything is harsh.”

“Shit. I didn’t even realize it was so early. I got excited. Sorry.”

An actual apology, right away and without argument. That was new. Whatever was going on, it had to be important.

Yoongi struggled with the blanket wrapped around his legs, kicking and cursing at it until it learned its place, which was on the floor at the foot of the bed, and then he sat up, all at once, letting his body fall back against the headboard in a vaguely upright position when it was done wobbling like a distressed spinning top. Namjoon waited patiently, the grunts Yoongi was making enough of an indication that he was preparing himself for whatever news there was to tell.

They sat in silence for a while, Yoongi gulping water down his dry throat and Namjoon audibly tapping his foot. So much for patience.

“Yoongi. How late were you up last night?” he asked finally.

“Dunno. I saw the sun coming up and I figured it was time to sleep,” Yoongi muttered, wiping his mouth on his arm and tossing the empty bottle across the room, a clear message of defiance to this unholy hour.

“Damn. I really am sorry, dude, but…” Namjoon trailed off, and Yoongi rolled his eyes, or at least attempted to.

“Look, just. The longer I stay awake the less likely I am to get any more sleep, so just tell me what the hell’s going on so I can get back to it.”

The next pause was shorter, and Yoongi could hear the smile in Namjoon’s voice when he spoke again.

“Have you checked your YouTube activity lately? Subscribers? Comments? That sort of thing?” Namjoon questioned, and Yoongi was... aghast. He was positive that was the correct word for his current condition.

“No? The fuck would I do that for? I only have three subscribers. You, Jimin, and that creepy guy who keeps talking about how my music is perfect to bathe his ferrets to. I’m still convinced that’s an elaborate sexual metaphor I want nothing to do with, by the way.” Yoongi grimaced at the very thought.

“Well. You should probably just...take a look at your channel. For fun. For giggles. I’ll wait.” Namjoon suggested, even though Yoongi knew it was not a suggestion, and he was actually going to sit there and wait while Yoongi did it.

He sighed at length, but navigated to the YouTube app on his phone obediently, pressing the familiar buttons for My Channel, then finding himself at his subscriber count.

Yoongi dropped the phone.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

“Maybe try some new words, Yoongi.”

Oh. He hadn’t realized he was saying them out loud.

There had been three subscribers, for almost ten months. An embarrassingly long time to make and post music for only three people. Yoongi had given up on making music for anyone but himself and his friends. He had given up, but he’d kept doing it, because it also made him happy. It was confusing. He tried not to think about it too much.

He tried not to think about it, so he just threw up songs whenever he had them, not even bothering with titles, only naming them after the date posted. Namjoon and Jimin and Ferret Dude commented every time.

There had been three subscribers to his channel the last time he’d glanced at it, a few days ago. Now, there were three thousand.

Yoongi had gone silent, and Namjoon had started audibly fidgeting on his end of the phone.

“Go to the video for 5216.”

Yoongi was not in a position to ignore Namjoon’s instructions. He did as he was told.

There were over a hundred comments on the video, where there had been four, before. Namjoon, Jimin, and Ferret Dude, twice.

Bambi really loves hearing this one while I wash her fur.

Sometimes we dance to it together.

Now, there were over a hundred, and Yoongi was perturbed, because most of them weren’t even about him.

Yo this is a jam on PinkPrince’s channel! So glad he introduced me to your music!

PinkPrince always delivers the good jams

I’m so excited PinkPrince is doing originals now! Love the collaboration!

@2KOOL4KUMAMON CALL ME WHEN YOU SEE THIS IT’S URGENT

That last one was Namjoon again. Yoongi snorted. He still hadn’t changed his YouTube handle from RunchRanda, even though he hadn’t used that nickname in years, a fact Yoongi was eternally grateful for. Not that 2Kool4Kumamon was much better, but Yoongi was too lazy to change it now. It was ironic, he reasoned. Irony was cool. Yoongi was cool. 2Kool4YouTube.

He cleared his throat. Namjoon was still waiting, humming to himself to fill the quiet.

“I have questions.” Yoongi began.

“I thought you might.” Namjoon replied.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. Trying to stop his hands from shaking and his heart beating too fast. He knew three thousand subscribers wasn’t much, in the world of YouTube, but to him, it was everything.

“Number one, who the hell is PinkPrince?”

Yoongi heard papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. Of course Namjoon had researched this, and had taken notes, probably handwritten ones. He both loved and hated Namjoon for his weird ways.

“Okay. I looked into it. PinkPrince has had a channel on YouTube for about two years. He does covers, mostly, singing. Never shows his face, the videos are usually just swirling colors with audio over them. Sometimes pictures of his dog show up. Sometimes just...food? I watched a lot of them. He’s actually really good, man. The video all this is about was his newest one. I took a screenshot of the description he wrote when he uploaded it, I’m gonna send it to you.”

Yoongi’s phone buzzed against his ear almost instantly with the picture message. Namjoon had clearly had a lot of time to prepare for this.

He held the phone away from him and opened the message, squinting at it.

Song: Untitled

Lyrics: PinkPrince

Original music: 2Kool4Kumamon

I’m a HUGE fan of this guy’s music, everyone. He makes amazing tracks. The layering and effort and feel of everything is just incredible. I wrote lyrics that I thought went with the music, and here's my first (half) original song! I highly HIGHLY recommend you check out 2Kool4Kumamon’s channel, subscribe, like, comment, and please do everything you can to get him some more attention! I hope you enjoy this xxxxxx

Yoongi rolled his eyes. That was way too many kisses for a grown man to leave on any piece of writing. Then, he thought about what Namjoon had said.

“Wait. Was his newest one? You took a screenshot instead of linking me. What happened to it?”

Namjoon paused before replying. “It looks like he took it down. Felt guilty about using your music. I found a link to his blog in the description for his channel and there’s a post about why he deleted it there, too. But...I don’t think he was quick enough. I also found the song reposted on a ton of blogs and sites. People are...people are seeing it, Yoongi. People are hearing you. ”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed. “How a ton are we talking, here? How many subscribers does this guy have?”

He heard the sound of Namjoon’s mouse clicking, then a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh, y’know. Like. One. One point. Three. Million.”

Yoongi dropped the phone again.

*

Seokjin stared at the post he’d just made to his Tumblr page, rereading the words to himself, trying not to completely freak out. After a while, he began spinning his chair slowly, still rolling the text around in his head without even looking at it anymore, because he basically had it memorized.

Hey 1UPs,

I made a mistake. I posted a song on my YouTube page that I only owned part of. I fell in love with this music track composed by 2Kool4Kumamon, like I did with so many other works of his, and I couldn’t help writing lyrics to it and working out a melody, then adding my vocals to the track.

I was wrong to post it. I want everyone to know that I regret this, because I didn’t ask permission first. I don’t know 2Kool4Kumamon personally, but I want to apologize to him for using his track without asking.

I’ve removed the video from my channel, and I want to encourage everyone who already downloaded the song not to share it on any other blogs or sites, and if you have, please take it down immediately.

However, I still really would like it if every one of my followers and fans would check out 2Kool4Kumamon’s YouTube page and support his music, because he deserves all the praise and good things in the world.

I’ll be back at it again soon with more covers, guys!

Love,

PinkPrince

Jin slowed the chair to a halt, sighing. It was too late. He’d seen the downloads everywhere, and the comments, and even fan covers and edits. The song was out there, and there wasn’t much else he could do besides beg everyone to stop. He hoped they would listen.

He’d posted the video in the wee hours of the morning, on very little sleep and too much caffeine.

He’d slept for an hour, and woken with a start. In his nightmare, 2Kool4Kumamon was a giant, a seven foot tall muscle-bound giant who could, and did, knock him to the ground with one punch. In his nightmare, Jin didn’t get up. He just laid on the ground, apologizing, until 2Kool4Kumamon walked away in disgust.

Nightmare Jin was a real baby.

Real Life Jin was less embarrassing, at least he hoped so. Real Life Jin was doing the right thing.

Real life Jin was making a second attempt at sleep.

*

When he woke up, enough hours later to feel like a brand new man, one who didn’t make panic-inducing choices at stupid o’clock on a lonely Friday night/Saturday morning, Jin had come to another, better decision. He was going to get in touch with 2Kool4Kumamon.

He’d wanted to, for a long time. Ever since he’d discovered the YouTube channel nearly three quarters of a year ago, he’d wanted to talk to the guy, find out what made him tick. At least tell him how much his music had meant. But, every time he thought about it, Jin got nervous. It was obvious they were completely different. 2Kool4Kumamon’s music was usually dark, hard-hitting. It was the kind of stuff that was meant for either slamming your fists against a punching bag, or slamming your body against someone else’s, in a half-lit room, just the two of you.

Jin’s voice was suited to ballads. It was a gentle, light thing, but he knew how to wield it expertly, knew how to curve it around a phrase and make the words smile.

It had been quite a journey, going from nobody to somebody online in the last two years. It hadn’t happened overnight. There had been a slow, steady build, and he’d worked hard for all of his followers.

Yet, he’d trade it all to be able to make music like 2Kool4Kumamon did.

Ugh. He wondered what the guy’s name actually was. It didn’t say on his profile. What was there was pointedly terse, or maybe just bored and apathetic.

Hi. I’m just a dude who’s too cool for Kumamon.

There was no picture of him. The icon next to his channel name was just, well...Kumamon. There was a small obsession there, it seemed.

There wasn’t a picture of Jin on his own profile, either, though, so he couldn’t really complain. In fact, Jin wasn’t in any of his videos at all. He’d always known he was handsome, and his looks had gotten him plenty of places he might never have gone otherwise. His face had bought countless free drinks at bars, gotten him closer to the front at too many concerts to recall. By the time he made his YouTube channel, Kim Seokjin was tired of coasting by on his looks. He wanted to be known for his talent.

One million, three hundred thousand and sixty-seven subscribers later, he’d done it.

When Jin opened his laptop, he was greeted by a chorus of melodic pings, notifications from YouTube and Tumblr that had just rolled in.

Hmm. Make that one million, three hundred thousand sixty-EIGHT subscribers.

-2Kool4Kumamon has subscribed to PinkPrince

-KumamonRulz has followed PinkPrince

Jin was seriously starting to worry about this guy’s Kumamon fetish.

He sighed, navigating to the KumamonRulz Tumblr, trying not to cringe internally at the name, because he was aware that PinkPrince was pretty dumb, too. It had just come to him one day, and it had fit, so he went with it.

KumamonRulz’s Tumblr was the very definition of aesthetic. Black and white and filled with vague pictures of scenery and landscapes and audio equipment and quotes about life, some inspirational and some not so, it all made Jin feel woefully uncool. He clicked back to his own blog, staring at the pink background and cheerful text. Whatever. This is me, Kumaweirdo.

Jin had opened a new message window, and was typing KumamonRulz’s name at the top, when the guy beat him to it.

Hey man

Jin frowned, wrinkling his nose as he tried to think of a response. That wasn’t exactly a lot to go on. He decided to go with his default, friendly and cheerful.

Hello! I was just about to message you :) :)

In the space between pressing enter and KumamonRulz’s eventual response, Taehyung wandered into the room, slurping milk tea through a straw and plopping down next to Jin’s chair on the floor quietly.

Jin looked down at his roommate. “Something you needed, Tae?” he asked, desperate for some reason to complete this interaction with KumamonRulz privately, and also very aware that now that Taehyung was there, that was unlikely to happen.

Sure enough, Taehyung laid back onto the floor, setting his cup beside him and resting his feet on Jin’s chair.

“Nope.”

Jin sighed, just as another notification finally pinged.

Well here I am

Jin leaned back in his chair, groaning. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. He was probably pissed. Jin didn’t really blame him. He just hoped he could smooth things over enough to not have the guy hate him forever.

Look, I know we have a lot to talk about, but I’d really like to know your name so I can stop calling you KumamonRulz to myself. I’m Kim Seokjin.

Jin stared at what he’d just written, then added a smiley face for good measure.

You use a lot of smileys

From the floor, Taehyung’s voice sounded.

“Are you talking to that one guy? Kumawhatever?”

Jin’s eyes flew down. “How do you even know about that?” he asked, aware of his voice going a little shrill.

Taehyung sat up, chuckling. “Just because I don’t leave comments on all your stuff doesn’t mean I don’t look at it, y’know.” He got to his feet, grabbing his cup as he stood and clapping Jin on the back with his free hand. “Never underestimate me, Seokjin, my man.”

With that, Taehyung left, and Jin was left gaping after him. One day, Kim Taehyung was going to take over the world, Jin just knew it, but he didn’t have time to consider all the terrible implications of that fact right then. He’d received another message.

I’m Min Yoongi

Jin smiled a little, nodding to himself. It was better than KumamonRulz.

:) It’s nice to “meet” you.

The responses started coming faster, now.

Sure. It’s nice to meet the person who used my song without asking

Jin flinched, biting his lip. He’d been prepared for this reaction, and also not prepared at all.

About that...I hope you know how truly sorry I am. I messed up, and I tried to make it as right as I could. I really do apologize, sincerely.

Jin sipped the tea Taehyung had left for him as he waited for an answer. He’d just noticed it sitting on his desk.

Listen man, I’m trying real hard to be pissed about this, but you’re too fucking nice, and now I’m just pissed about that. I’m also pissed because this song of...ours...is really fucking good

Jin was torn between laughter and disbelief, and some combination of the two won out in the end. He’d hated the idea of unintentionally making an enemy. Maybe there was still a way he could come out of this without that happening.

You heard it?

Another split-second pause, then the reply came through.

Of course I heard it. It’s kind of everywhere. Including on my hard drive, now

Jin swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers were poised over the keys, ready to type as soon as his brain caught up, but once again, Yoongi was faster.

Like I said. It’s really fucking good. You should put it back up

Jin had been in the middle of a sip of milk tea, and then he was choking on the milk tea, because he couldn’t believe what he was reading, again. He hadn’t expected this part, at all. Yoongi was...he was kind of a mystery. It seemed that he tried really hard to put on this air of cool disdain, but he’d said Jin was nice, and he was being pretty nice, in his own way, and Jin wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.

I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I just don’t feel right about it.

Jin chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the screen, waiting.

You better get right with it, dude. It’s a good song. Put it up and let even more people hear it. You have my...my blessing, I guess? Whatever, that sounds lame, but. You know what I mean

Jin couldn’t stop smiling.

I know what you mean. Okay. I’ll put it back up. And I’ll post about it everywhere and link it to your channel again, because I really do want you to get so much more traffic than you do, it’s a damn shame how few people seem to know about your music when it’s so good!

Five actual minutes passed. Jin started to wonder if Yoongi had just walked away from the computer at his awkward show of enthusiasm.

Take it down a couple notches, man. Repost the thing. We good?

Jin let out a sigh of relief.

Yeah. We good.

*

Two weeks later, Jin hadn’t heard another word from Yoongi. He’d reposted the video, as promised, and it had gotten more views than any other song he’d ever done. He checked Yoongi’s subscriber count every now and then, and watched with satisfaction as it began to rise. Three thousand. Then four. Then five.

Yoongi hadn’t posted any new songs.

He’d followed all Yoongi’s social media accounts, from YouTube to Twitter to Tumblr to Instagram. He seemed to be the most active on Instagram, and he was, by all indications, an amazing photographer, too. There was one picture Jin liked the most, a shot of a wall filled with graffiti, filtered in black and white, naturally. Yoongi had focused on two words in the middle of the wall, and the rest were faded into the background through his enviable skills.

NEVER MIND.

Jin stared at the picture for entire minutes, unsure why it made him feel so much. He guessed that was the mark of a good photographer, to make the viewer feel something with almost nothing to look at.

Finally, he decided to try again contacting Yoongi again.

It was late. It was always late. Jin had never slept easily, his whole life. Even as a child, he woke up from bad dreams that were so vivid they stayed with him for days. His parents told him it was just his overactive imagination, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling. So, as he grew older, he started sleeping less and less, to avoid the things that clouded his brain when he did. He pulled up Tumblr messenger, clicking on Yoongi’s blog name.

I can’t sleep.

At half past two in the morning, Jin didn’t really expect a response. If Yoongi was a sane person, he’d be dead to the world by now.

You either, huh

Jin blinked rapidly, staring at the message Yoongi had sent. A strange feeling started to bloom in his stomach, one that he didn’t understand, and didn’t feel like trying too hard to comprehend at the moment. Yoongi was awake, and he was talking, and Jin needed someone to talk to.

I have insomnia. What’s your excuse?

He left the laptop open on his desk, going downstairs to brew a cup of coffee. When Jin returned, it was to a wall of text.

I don’t sleep because I stay up all night working on music

I do my best work at night, when it’s just me and the dark

Usually there’s no one to talk to

But you’re here now I guess

So

Hello

I just made a fresh pot of coffee so I’m talking a lot

Shit

Sorry

Jin nearly giggled, typing quickly.

No need to apologize. I’ve been wanting to talk to you more. Not about music, really. About anything. Well, we could talk about music too.

He sipped the hot drink in his hands, squeaking a little when it was just this side of too warm and setting it down again next to his mousepad.

Whatever, man

We can talk about whatever I guess

Jin decided to start at the top of his list of questions.

I saw that you live in Seoul, too. Have you always lived here?

To pass the time between Yoongi’s answers, Jin put his favorite cooking channel on autoplay in the background. Just to have something to listen to.

Nah, I’m from Daegu. Been here a few years

The chef was babbling about japchae. Jin was barely paying attention. He made excellent japchae. Didn’t really need the tips.

That’s cool. I moved closer to the city after school. What brought you here?

Yoongi’s response was simple.

Music

Jin smiled a little.

Me too. Do you only make tracks? Do you play any instruments, or sing? Not that you need to do anything besides make tracks. You’re incredible at it.

The coffee was cool enough to drink now, and Jin took a long gulp.

I can’t sing for shit, man. I can rap. But I don’t know if people would want to hear it

Jin’s eyes widened.

I’d LOVE to hear it! And I’m sure your subscribers would love it too! You should rap over one of your songs!

The next video was on making large batches of kimchi. Jin clicked until it was in the forefront of his screen. He liked watching the production of kimchi. It was strangely relaxing.

I’ve been meaning to tell you

Thank you

For driving so much traffic to my channel

It

It means a lot

Or whatever

The way Yoongi talked made Jin happy. The half-formed sentences, the bare minimum of punctuation. His thoughts were staccato, where Jin’s were sometimes too fluid. They seemed to balance each other.

You’re welcome! You deserve it. I’m just such a huge fan of yours.

He thought maybe he was repeating that particular point a bit too often, but Jin didn’t really care. He wanted Yoongi to know.

Thanks

Jin started to type again, not really sure what he was going to say, but Yoongi sent another message before he could figure it out.

If you wanted to we could get coffee sometime. Talk about music

The feeling in Jin’s stomach started to spread, outward and upward, making his whole body tingle.

Okay. We could do that. :)

Seoul was a big city. He wondered where Yoongi lived, if they ever went to the same places. If they’d ever seen each other.

I mean, we don’t have to

Jin chuckled. Yoongi was so different from him, but so much the same that it felt like talking to himself. The second guessing, the insecurity. The loneliness, maybe? Jin wasn’t sure what it was. But he liked it.

No, I’d like to. Really. There’s a coffee shop I like to go to sometimes near my apartment. It’s close to the art school. Right next door, actually, I used to go there between classes.

Jin waited for an answer, draining his coffee, perhaps a bit too quickly.

You mean the one with the penguins?

Yoongi was referring to the little statues outside the coffee shop's entrance, a line of penguins happily following one after the other, following the leader. The two at the beginning of the line were bigger. The parents. One big happy penguin family in the middle of Seoul, where they most assuredly did not belong. It was a nonsensical piece of art, and Jin had always loved it.

Yeah, that one. I love those penguins.

Once, after Jin had failed a practical media design exam, he’d sat on the bench next to the penguins, naming them in his head. He’d thought of their whole backstory, why they’d ended up on a family vacation, probably lost, in Seoul. It had gotten sad awfully fast, and he’d stopped.

His eyes floated back to the computer as Yoongi sent more messages.

Me too

I named them all

Leeteuk, Heechul, Yesung, Shindong, Donghae, Siwon

Jin actually laughed out loud, his fingers flying over the keys.

Those are definitely members of Super Junior.

He was still laughing when Yoongi replied.

I never claimed to be creative ALL the time

Jin bit his lip, smiling and typing his next thought.

We could meet there. Whenever you’re free? I work regular hours, 9-5 Monday through Friday. So. Whenever?

He went back downstairs, helping himself to another cup of coffee from the pot on the warmer. As expected, another flurry of messages was waiting for him when he plopped down in his chair again.

Gross

5 is like

When I wake up

I work overnights at Stop ‘n Shop

I’m off on Thursday

7 okay? Gotta have time to shower up and look pretty

I don’t know why I said that

Jin would have pressed Yoongi for information, would have asked him why he was working at a convenience store when he was so talented, but it would have been awfully hypocritical coming from him. He spent his days slaving away in a cubicle, using his fancy art school degree to design pamphlets for doctor’s offices. Gonorrhea and You? A classic Kim Seokjin piece.

7 is fine. I’ll see you there. And don’t be a stranger in the meantime!

Jin flipped his phone open, putting the day and time into his planner app. He was forgetful. He needed the help.

I probably will

I’m not good at people

Shutting the phone and tossing it onto his desk, Jin raised one eyebrow.

You seem to do okay.

He rubbed his eyes. The coffee wasn’t working as well as it usually did, and Jin was tired.

You say that now

Jin yawned through his grin, pushing keys with his index fingers, suddenly too tired to fully commit to the home row typing technique he’d learned in school.

I’m gonna head to bed. See you Thursday at 7, and talk to you before then, I hope!

Barely a beat passed.

Thursday at 7

Later

Jin shut his laptop, getting into bed, the full cup of coffee still sitting on his desk, steaming. He curled up under the bedsheets, thinking. Today was Sunday. Four days until Thursday.

Four days felt way too long.

*

“So, how many times have you changed what you’re wearing?” Namjoon asked casually from his end of the phone, his low voice on speakerphone bouncing off the walls of Yoongi’s bedroom.

Yoongi frowned, yanking off the eighth shirt he’d tried on and pawing through his clothes again.

“None. What are you talking about?” he muttered, liberating yet another option from the pile.

Namjoon chuckled. “I know you. You’ve been using your ‘I’m freaked out as hell about this date and nothing I’ve put on is good enough’ voice since I called.”

Yoongi groaned, smoothing the ninth choice over his chest as he stared at himself in the mirror on his closet door.

“First of all, it’s not a date.”

Namjoon snorted. “Sure. Okay.”

“Second, I’m going to be late if you don’t stop tormenting me and let me get ready.” Yoongi said, huffing out a breath and regarding the latest look. This was probably as good as it was going to get.

“Fine. Go. Good luck. And remember, no sex is the safest sex.” Namjoon could barely control his giggles, now, and Yoongi stuck his tongue out at the phone, fully aware it would change nothing.

“I hate you more than anyone on this planet.” Yoongi shoved a beanie over his head experimentally, then took it right back off. Nope.

“I know. Let me know how it goes.”

Yoongi sat down on the edge of his bed, pressing the button to hang up the call with Namjoon. It was 6:42 in the evening. The last four days had seemed to take an eternity, but the time between when he’d woken up at 5 and now had passed in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous. Jin was just a guy. He’d never even seen his face. And, it wasn’t a date.

It wasn’t a date.

It was definitely not going to be anything if he waited much longer to leave the house.

Yoongi made it to the coffee shop at 7:03, slightly out of breath and his heart pounding with more than just the effort of mostly running all the way there.

He wasn’t the socializing type, not really. Yoongi only had a few friends, and he rarely actually saw them in person, preferring to spend his free time holed up in his room, working on music. Namjoon was one of the only ones who’d always understood that, and understood that it didn’t mean Yoongi liked him any less. There were a myriad of other reasons for Yoongi to despise Namjoon, including his obnoxious habit of knowing Yoongi way too well, and being right 99% of the time.

Yoongi checked his phone, scrolling through the last messages Jin had sent him on Tumblr.

I’m wearing jeans and a black long sleeved shirt. I’ll sit at the table in the back, next to the weird cat shrine.

Yoongi had named all the little porcelain cats in the display, over the many times he'd sat at that table. Jiyong, Seungri, Tabi, Daesung, Youngbae.

Look, he never claimed to be creative all the time, okay?

He stood outside the shop for a moment, collecting himself. Definitely not craning his neck and trying to see who was sitting at the table in the back.

Except he could see. He could see arguably the broadest pair of shoulders he’d ever witnessed on a real life person, covered in a black long sleeved shirt. He could see long, slender, slightly crooked fingers running through jet black hair. He was...terribly unprepared.

He was...late.

It was 7:06 by the time Yoongi gathered his wits enough to enter the coffee shop, the little bell on the door jingling as he made his way inside. Jin, or at least Yoongi assumed it was Jin, didn’t look up. Yoongi wasn’t sure if that was an amazingly confident choice, or a nervous one, like it would have been if he was the one sitting there, waiting.

He approached the table carefully, slowly, as if he were afraid he might scare Jin, when in reality, he was probably the bigger scaredy-cat. When he was close enough to smell the cologne Jin was wearing, to inhale the light, musky floral scent of it and nearly swoon, Yoongi cleared his throat. It was more of an involuntary reaction than anything else, meant to clear all the weird swoony thoughts away, but it worked as an attention-getter, too. Jin turned around, a smile already on his face.

His face. His incredibly, obnoxiously handsome face. Jin stood up, still smiling. Fuck. He was tall, too. Yoongi knew he was slightly lacking in the height department, but Jin was tall and practically...strapping. Was that a thing people still said? Yoongi didn’t know. He was too busy trying to focus on what was happening to think about it too hard.

“Yoongi?” Jin asked, and there it was. The voice that matched perfectly to its singing counterpart.

Jin was holding out one hand, waiting for Yoongi to take it. He looked down, his arm raising uncertainly to meet Jin’s offered handshake.

Warm. Jin was very warm. Yoongi was always cold. He might have held on to the handshake a bit longer than was strictly necessary.

When he finally let go, he slid into the chair across from Jin, eyeing his drink so he could avoid eyeing Jin, because he and Jin were going to be friends. That was all. Professional. Friends. Min Yoongi did not get involved with co-workers.

Not that he’d ever had a “co-worker” that he’d talked to one late night about his favorite stuffed animals, the ones that lived on the floor next to his bed, in case he wanted to snuggle with one.

The drink sitting in front of Jin was exactly what Yoongi would have expected: some sort of unholy iced blended coffee thing, and it was pink, like Jin’s blog was pink, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

The sound of Jin’s laughter startled Yoongi from his thoughts. He’d been watching Yoongi stare at his choice of beverage, and now he was laughing. It was a clear, sharp sound, but melodious. Yoongi found himself smiling, although he didn’t really know why.

“I don’t usually drink stuff like this,” Jin said, a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t know why I ordered it, really. It’s too damn sweet.”

Yoongi laughed a little too, wishing his laugh sounded half as good as Jin’s did. “Yeah, that looks like a sugar coma in a cup, man.” he admitted, shrugging his jacket off and onto the floor.

A waitress showed up then, and Yoongi ordered a plain coffee. “Make that two,” Jin interjected, giving that same dazzling smile to the waitress.

When she had gone, Jin focused his gaze back on Yoongi. “I guess I was nervous,” he mused thoughtfully, resting his chin in one hand.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Nervous? About me?”

Jin shrugged. “I suppose so. I don’t meet people that I...connect with, too often. I don’t have many friends. But I felt like we’ve been getting along pretty well, and...I don’t know. I was nervous. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Yoongi hoped to hell Jin couldn’t see the blush he could feel creeping onto his cheeks. “I’m nothing to be nervous about,” he muttered, defaulting to deflection.

Jin’s smile turned even softer. “That remains to be seen.”

Their coffees arrived, silencing the conversation for the moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yoongi was vaguely aware that he might have been staring at the way the heat of Jin’s drink was warming his whole face as he held it to his lips, turning his complexion a little pink and making him even more improbably handsome. He was in the middle of trying to decide whether or not he cared that he was staring, when Jin spoke up again.

“Why do you make music?”

The question caught Yoongi off guard. He’d never been asked that before, not by any of his friends or his family. He’d never had to think about the reasons.

“I guess because...because I don’t know what else to do, sometimes. I don’t know how else to get all the things I think about out of my brain and make them into something useful. I’m not really sure my music is useful to anyone, but I guess...I guess that’s why I do it?” Yoongi looked up when he’d finished talking.

Jin’s eyes were already on him, already looking into the spaces where Yoongi’s landed when he raised his head. Yoongi glanced away, sipping his coffee.

“Anyway. Why do you do what you do? Sing and write lyrics?”

Jin licked his lips, thinking. “The same reasons, I suppose. I started singing when I was young. It made me feel less lonely. I was kind of an odd kid. My imagination was too big and my personality was too weird and...it was nice, to have something I could do by myself.”

Yoongi felt a distinct ache in his chest, where his heart allegedly was.

“The lyrics...they started as poems, and the poems started as journal entries. A dream journal. I had...have. I have nightmares, sometimes. Fairly often. I needed to write them down sometimes to be able to forget them.”

Yoongi was starting to realize how many pre-conceived notions he’d had about Jin, and what he was going to be like. He was also starting to realize that Jin was tossing all those notions out the window, one by one.

He liked it.

The conversation flowed easily as they drank their coffee, the people around them going in and out, time passing more quickly than Yoongi wanted it to. They talked for hours. Yoongi had never talked to anyone for hours before, not face to face. Not without desperately searching for a way out at every turn. Jin made it easy to stay.

They talked about music, and YouTube, and their friends and their lives, until Yoongi was almost positive Jin was now his second best friend after Namjoon, as far as knowledge of random facts about him went.

Just when Yoongi started to realize how long they’d actually been sitting there, and that his ass was starting to hurt in this uncomfortable chair, and he needed to pee, and he was really, really hungry, a guy appeared next to their table.

The first thing Yoongi noticed about him was that he looked incredibly apathetic. He looked young, too, not more than eighteen, and between the five pounds of smudged eyeliner rimming his lids, the lip ring, the all-black, strategically safety-pinned outfit and the jarringly bright yellow name tag that proclaimed HI! I’M JUNGKOOK! resting on his chest, he was nothing if not a study in textbook teenage angst.

Their interaction opened with a long, world-weary sigh from the kid. Jin and Yoongi just watched him quietly.

“Welcome to Bean ‘n’ Gone. My name is Jungkook. Can I get you anything from the cafe? You’ve been here for so long that my manager says you have to eat something or leave.” Jungkook punctuated his sentences with one of the most exaggerated eyerolls Yoongi had ever seen.

Across from him, Jin was doing his best not to laugh at the kid outright. “Um…” he started, looking to Yoongi for help.

Yoongi shrugged. “Sure. I could eat. You got any of those sandwiches with the little sprouts on ‘em tonight, Kookie?” The nickname rolled off Yoongi’s tongue easily, and it was met with a scowl from Jungkook and a barely concealed guffaw from Jin.

“Two of those,” Jin wheezed between snickers.

Jungkook sighed again, flipping open his small notepad to write down their order. “Super. Two sandwiches for the old dudes at table eight.” he murmured, scribbling on a blank page.

Yoongi got to his feet, mouth dropped open in mock offense. “Old dudes?? Listen here, youngster. When I was your age--”

“Ugh,” Jungkook groaned, holding a hand up to stop Yoongi. “Please, no. Just let me get your sandwiches so I can go home.”

“You got it, Junior.” Jin commented airily, giving Jungkook a big, knowing smile as the kid made a swift retreat. He looked up at Yoongi, still standing awkwardly next to the table.

“I’m gonna hit the restroom. Hold down the fort.” Yoongi said, chancing a shy grin at Jin before he turned to walk away.

*

NAMJOON YOU HAVE TO HELP ME

Yoongi locked himself in a stall in the men’s room, sliding down to sit on the floor against the wall.

What happened? Are you being catfished? Is Jin really a 60 year old woman with a body odor problem??

Yoongi snorted, typing fast.

No. He’s actually like a completely beautiful person in all ways and I am not worthy you have to help me

Namjoon’s replies were always fast, something Yoongi was very grateful for.

Not until you admit you’re on a date.

Yoongi groaned.

It’s not a fucking date please I’m freaking out just tell me something nice about me

He had no idea what he was even saying anymore.

Why don’t you ask Jin to tell you something nice about you? I’m sure he has lots of compliments to give.

Yoongi sighed, getting to his feet to finally relieve himself of the four cups of coffee he’d had so far before he answered Namjoon.

Why are you like this

Yoongi began to pace around the small bathroom when he was done. He wasn’t sure, but it was possible this was what a panic attack felt like.

I’m not like anything. You’re being a tool. Just go back out there and hang out with the guy, you’re obviously enjoying yourself.

Even though it wasn’t what Yoongi wanted to hear, he knew Namjoon was right.

I don’t know HOW to enjoy myself Namjoon

Yoongi knew that wasn’t true. He knew this was all just his defense mechanisms. That didn’t make it any less inconvenient.

Step 1: stop being an entire fistful of assholes. Step 2: continue hanging out with Jin. Step 3: make great music with Jin, probably? Step 4: tap that ass.

Yoongi pushed the door of the restroom open as he replied.

I’M EXITING THIS CONVERSATION NOW

When he looked up from his phone, in the direction of their table, Jin looked up too. His sandwich was in his hand, and he was chewing a bite, a much bigger bite than Yoongi would have thought him capable of. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk and his eyes were wide from being caught and Yoongi had the biggest crush of his fucking life. He bit his lip to stop the smile threatening to take over his whole face, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and took the few steps back to the table.

*

“I have the biggest crush of my fucking life,” Jin groaned dramatically when he got home, flopping down onto the couch next to where Taehyung was sprawled, immersed in his latest favorite video game. He barely looked up as the couch shifted to accommodate Jin’s long limbs. He raised one eyebrow, mashing a button that, from Jin’s point of view, seemed to serve no other purpose than to make his character throw giant, melting marshmallows at its opponent. It didn’t seem like the best method of destruction, really.

“So, good date, then?” Taehyung asked mildly, jamming the ball of his hand onto the button over and over and raising his eyes to Jin.

Jin sighed. “It wasn’t a date, Tae. I don’t think he likes me like that at all. We’re too...we’re too different, probably. I’m sure we want different things. As far as that.”

Taehyung pressed the pause button, tossing the controller onto the coffee table to regard Jin quietly. Jin decided not to mention that he’d paused with his character in imminent danger of being eaten by a host of panda soldiers. What kind of game WAS this??

“How do you know?” Taehyung asked simply, folding his arms across his lap. Jin frowned.

“How do I know what?”

“Anything,” Taehyung replied, shrugging. “How do you know what Kumadude thinks if you don’t just ask him?”

Jin leaned back, covering his eyes with one arm. “Yoongi. His name is Min Yoongi.”

“Yeah. Whatever. How do you know what KumaYoongi thinks, if you don’t just ask him, then.”

When Jin looked up again, Taehyung was still watching him. He laughed a little. “You make it sound easy.”

Taehyung smiled. “Why isn’t it?”

Jin and Taehyung had been friends for as long as either of them could remember, and Taehyung had always been like this. He had a way of boiling every problem down to the simplest terms, the crux of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t grasp the intricacies of everything. Jin knew he did, because Taehyung was one of the smartest people he’d ever met. His mind just worked differently, and he was perpetually able to throw all the small problems to the side, and grasp onto the big ones, and come up with answers that should have been even more complicated, in practice.

Except they weren’t, in Taehyung’s hands. Somehow, just by staring into Jin’s eyes and intoning the obvious, Taehyung made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right. That he was right, and that his advice was good, even though it always sounded just this side of slightly insane.

(Taehyung was usually right.)

They sat in silence for a minute, regarding each other. Finally, Taehyung spoke up again.

“Well, what are you going to do?”

Jin knew he couldn’t just ask Yoongi how he felt. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at Taehyung.

“I’m going to go to my room and write sad love songs and never tell anyone who they’re about, like the well-adjusted grown up I am.” he muttered, getting up from the couch. Taehyung immediately scooted into the spot he’d vacated, chuckling.

“All right. Godspeed, PinkPrince.”

By the time Jin thought of an appropriately witty response, Taehyung was back to yelling at his video game, so he heaved a sigh and trudged upstairs to his room instead.

When he got there, Jin pulled out his phone for the first time since he’d left the cafe, flipping it open to check for any messages. There were two, from Yoongi. They’d finally exchanged phone numbers before they’d parted ways, bringing the total amount of methods they had to get ahold of and/or ignore each other to an alarmingly high figure.

Made it home safe, not that you needed to know

I had a good time. We should do that again. Or anything. Just hang out again

Text Yoongi was marginally more given to punctuation than Tumblr Yoongi, although Jin wasn’t sure how much of that was him, and how much of it was his phone trying to thwart his usual ways. He texted Yoongi back quickly.

Sure, sounds good. Say hi anytime! :)

Jin closed his phone and threw it onto the bed, shrugging off his street clothes. He found a fresh pair of pajama pants and slipped them on. His phone was already blinking with another message from Yoongi.

Hi

Kim Seokjin, a perfectly well-adjusted grown up, was definitely not blushing.

He sat down at his desk, not really doing anything. He just kind of wanted to stare at the wall for a while, to be honest. The whole evening had been...a lot. He didn’t go out that much and he didn’t meet people he liked that much, and he especially didn’t meet people he liked as much as he liked Yoongi. Yoongi was smart, and snarky, and also he had the kind of mouth that Jin thought he could probably kiss for hours.

Not that it mattered. They were just friends. That was all they would be. Yoongi had been nice to him, sure. He’d smiled a lot and Jin hadn’t missed him blush a time or two. But, that could all be attributed to the nerves that go along with meeting anyone new. It was unlikely that it had anything to do with Jin.

Yoongi would probably never be interested in someone like Jin.

Jin was more interested in Yoongi than he should have been.

Finally, after a few more minutes of staring, and definitely not any pining whatsoever, not even light, ineffectual pining, Jin opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his lyrics journal.

It had been months since he’d written anything good. Months since he’d written anything at all. The muse had left him suddenly, and he hadn’t known what to do about it. But, on the way home from the cafe, after he’d gone one way and Yoongi had walked off in the other, Jin had started to come up with something.

They were just scattered words at first, played over the steady beat of his footsteps. Then gradually, those words formed phrases, and the phrases turned to sentences, and they were all about Yoongi and Jin was scared and elated and he kept writing in his head until he got home.

He’d kept writing while he talked to Taehyung, while he texted Yoongi back, while he changed into his pajamas.

He’d kept writing, because he hadn’t written anything in months, and suddenly, tonight, he had a lot to say.

Jin moved his pen over the paper in front of him quickly, pulling the words from his brain decisively. He always wrote with a pen, never a pencil. He liked the permanency of pens, that they could take the fleeting thoughts running through his head and make them stay still.

Jin wrote and wrote, until the conversation he was having with himself was over, until it wasn’t banging around his subconscious anymore.

When he was done, Jin set his pen down and read over his work. There were lines about a boy who looked like a cat, a boy with sleepy eyes that woke up everything in Jin, a boy who smiled when he thought no one was looking. It was all very poetic and vague and metaphorical. Jin knew he could probably pass the words off easily as being about no one in particular. If he had one true talent, it was making people believe anything he had to say.

The work was good, and he knew it. It would have been a shame to let it go to waste just because it happened to be about the first person who would be reading it, besides the author.

Jin remembered the way Yoongi had smiled at him, when they’d joked around with their server at the coffeeshop. He remembered the way Yoongi’s eyes had almost sparkled, like he’d finally found someone he could be around, and he was amazed. Jin understood that feeling better than he would ever admit to out loud.

They were different, he and Yoongi. Yoongi was rough around the edges but soft on the inside. Jin was smooth to the eye, but if you looked closer, there were jagged thoughts and complicated twists just under the surface. They were different, they were opposites, but there was a balance, just like he’d thought there would be.

For all their differences, they approached music the same way, and held some of the same philosophies on life, so it seemed.

There was enough common ground there to build on. They’d be friends, Jin knew that much. Friends and collaborators.

Jin was used to the uneven distribution of wanting and not being wanted back. Sometimes he was the wanted. But mostly, he was the wantee.

He wanted Yoongi. His fingers had ached as they wrote faster and faster, more words for the boy he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Friends. They were friends.

They were just going to be friends.

*

Usually, Yoongi barely took note of time as it passed in and around and through his life. He didn’t really pay attention to months or weeks or birthdays or anniversaries. Sometimes Namjoon had to remind him of his own birthday.

When he started hanging out with Jin, Yoongi felt the shift almost immediately, in an alarmingly visceral way.

Time mattered. Time mattered a lot, actually, and it was moving awfully fucking fast for Yoongi’s particular comfort level. It seemed to move fastest when he was actually with Jin. Whether they were in Jin’s room or Yoongi’s apartment, whether it was one of the nights Jin couldn’t sleep so he came and visited Yoongi at work, or one of the rare days Yoongi found himself awake enough to show up at Jin’s office and suggest they grab some lunch, it all flew by so quickly he couldn’t stand it, sometimes.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Yoongi wanted to take a picture of Jin’s smile, to memorize it. One day, Jin grabbed Yoongi’s phone and took a picture of the two of them as they sat on the roof of Jin’s office with their sandwiches. After that, Yoongi just prayed Jin didn’t take his phone again. He’d definitely notice that the image was Yoongi’s wallpaper, now.

They made music. They made better music together than Yoongi ever could have on his own. There was something magic about the combination of Yoongi’s dark, foreboding soundscapes, when it met Jin’s sweet, candy-tinged voice. It turned that voice powerful, less sweet and more dangerous. It made Yoongi’s beats sharper. It made both of them better.

Months passed, in the blink of an eye. They kept making music, posting videos on both their channels. Yoongi had almost twenty thousand subscribers now, a fact that kept him in a perpetual state of low-key freakout. Jin was endlessly supportive, going well out of his way to promote Yoongi wherever he could, to promote what they did together. Jin was maybe the best person Yoongi had ever met.

Jin was maybe the first person Yoongi had ever loved.

Not like that.

Like friends.

Yoongi didn’t get involved with co-workers. He didn’t. Even if his heart did, his mind was always there to tell that lump of muscle to fuck off. It worked, mostly. He’d managed to convince himself that it had.

The night everything turned around, they’d been working on music for hours. Yoongi had shown up at Jin’s house in the evening, with a laptop full of ideas and a body full of coffee. They’d gotten to it immediately, throwing ideas back and forth, Jin singing improvised vocal runs off the top of his head and Yoongi matching them with his newest track, and then Jin would scribble in his notebook, crossing words out and writing new ones while Yoongi fiddled with the layers on the project until Jin was ready to add more to it.

They were sitting on the floor in the middle of Jin’s bedroom, legs crossed Indian-style, leaned over their work. Yoongi would glance up at Jin every so often, when he was sure he wouldn’t be caught, then let his eyes dart away when he could tell Jin felt his gaze.

This was the Jin that Yoongi liked best. He’d just showered before Yoongi had arrived, and his hair was still dripping onto the fabric of his hoodie. It had dried some now, sticking to his forehead in little clumps. Yoongi fought the urge to reach up and brush them out of Jin’s eyes, if only so he could see the surprised look on Jin’s face when he did.

He was fighting that urge again, staring down at his hands in his lap, and by the time he realized how close Jin’s face was to his own, so close that Yoongi could feel every shallow breath between Jin’s lips tickling his nose as he let them out, it was too late for him to react.

Jin kissed Yoongi hesitantly, softly. The uncertainty in it made Yoongi breathless. It brought him crashing back to himself. This was happening. It was real. It was real, and Yoongi had been fighting it for months, and it was so late that it was early and he’d had so much coffee, and maybe he didn’t have to fight it, right now. Maybe it could just be.

Yoongi let his eyes shut with Jin’s lips still pressed to his. He let his hands reach up and cup Jin’s face, just for a moment. Just to feel what it was like.

He kissed Jin back.

They were quiet, chaste kisses, no intent behind them other than the need to feel each other. Jin tasted like the coffee they’d both been drinking, and Yoongi was sure he did too, but also, Jin tasted like so much more than that. Jin was peppermint and vanilla and sweet, and underneath that, the vast reserves of strength Yoongi had been shown in the time they’d known each other. He knew that Jin went to great lengths to stay in control of himself, to always be polite and kind and reserved. He also knew what Jin was really like, that he was funny and dry and sarcastic and much, much stronger than Yoongi could ever hope to be.

Yoongi was weak. And so he pulled away.

He pulled away, and then he physically moved away from Jin, scooting himself across the floor, trying to gather his thoughts. This couldn’t happen. It couldn’t continue to happen. Yoongi had sworn to himself he wouldn’t do this. Jin was his collaborator, his friend. His...his fucking co-worker. Yoongi knew it was stupid to get involved with anyone you worked with, let alone someone you worked with at music. Music was made of emotions, and emotions were messy. It was a recipe for disaster. It was unprofessional. Yoongi was a professional. He wanted to be. He wanted to…

Shit.

When he looked up at Jin, Yoongi almost changed his mind about all the bullshit running through his head. The guy sitting across from him wasn’t his co-worker. He was Kim Seokjin, one of his best friends in the world and the biggest fucking crush of his life and fuck, Yoongi wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to more than kiss him.

Jin’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed. His mouth hung open in a small, perfect O, and he was breathing fast.

He regretted it, and Yoongi could tell.

Good. It would make the next part easier.

“Yoongi, I…” Jin began, leaning towards him. Yoongi scooted further away, turning his head to begin gathering his things. He had to leave. Now.

“Yoongi. What are you doing?” Jin’s voice was soft, so impossibly soft and Yoongi wanted to listen to everything he had to say, but he couldn’t.

“I’m just gonna go.” Yoongi bit the words out as fast as he could, before he lost the nerve to. He stood up, shoving his laptop in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder, looking around Jin’s room for his snapback. He found it perched on top of Jin’s computer chair and pushed it over his head. He had a vain hope that maybe the hat would help all his thoughts stay where they belonged, inside his brain.

Jin stood too, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over his hands into sweater paws, and that was really the last goddamn thing Yoongi needed, because it was so cute and so Jin and so, so much, and he kind of hated it.

“Why?” Jin questioned, his voice carefully even.

Yoongi looked up, finally. He at least owed Jin that much, to look him in the eye while he did this.

“Because I have to. We can’t do this, Jin. I promised myself I’d never get involved with a co-worker. It’s not good for anyone. I have to go, and we can’t do this anymore. Any of it.” Yoongi tried to make his voice as firm as possible, but it was hard, when his entire body was shaking with the effort of forcing it to do the last thing it wanted to.

Jin didn’t reply for a long time, and Yoongi just stood there awkwardly, waiting. He didn’t want to leave without letting Jin say his piece. He wanted him to have that much. Some weird part of Yoongi, buried deep inside, wanted Jin to lash out. To hate him. To make this simpler.

“A co-worker,” Jin said finally, his voice even fainter. Flatter.

Yoongi didn’t answer.

“Is that all I am to you?” Jin asked. His voice wasn’t trembling. Yoongi let his eyes flick up again, quickly. Jin wasn’t crying. Yoongi felt like bawling.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi muttered. “I don’t know. I have to go.”

And he went.

He went out of Jin’s room, down the stairs, passing Taehyung in the living room without a word. He went out the front door.

It was less of a walk home than a stumble, really. Yoongi stumbled down Jin’s street, turning in a direction he hoped was towards home. He wasn’t really paying attention.

He made it fifty steps, then a hundred and fifty. He counted to keep his mind occupied.

When Yoongi got to two hundred, he yanked his phone out of his pocket, dialing fast. Namjoon picked up on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?”

Yoongi tried to laugh, but a sob came out instead. “Why do you always assume something’s wrong?”

Namjoon sighed. “Because you only ever actually call me when you’re not okay, and also, you’re fucking crying.”

Yoongi wiped his eyes on his sleeve, turning a corner. “I’m not crying, you’re crying.”

There was a long pause. Yoongi wheeled to a stop, sinking down onto the nearest bench on whatever sidewalk of whatever street he’d gotten himself lost on. Finally, Namjoon spoke again.

“Yoongi, what did you do?”

Yoongi let out a real sob, then. He couldn’t help it, and anyway, it was late-early and no one was around to hear it. See it.

“He kissed me, Namjoon. Jin kissed me and I kissed him back and then I freaked out and left. I told him we couldn’t do any of it anymore. Because. Because. You know the reasons.”

Namjoon sighed again. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. “You’re not helping.”

Namjoon chuckled, but it was humorless. “You just left that poor guy standing alone in his room after he kissed you because of some pretentious horseshit you made up when you were fifteen years old about how you won’t ever get involved with anyone you do music with, and you want me to help you? Get over yourself, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was trying to make his jaw drop in dismay, he really was. He just didn’t have the energy.

“I find it amusing that you’re calling me pretentious, Namjoon.”

When Namjoon’s voice came again, it was more forceful. Irritated. Maybe even a little angry.

“That’s not the fucking point. You’re an idiot, is the point. That guy is the first person you’ve felt anything for in ages, and the only person you’ve ever felt this much for. God. He must have been terrified after he did it, after you reacted like that. And you just left him there. You’ve been hanging out for months, getting to know each other, fucking falling in love with each other while making amazing music, and he went out on a limb and kissed you because he wanted to, because he felt things for you, and you just up and left. I mean, how am I supposed to help you with this? I don’t want to help you with this. I kind of want to punch you in the nuts, actually.”

Yoongi cried harder, and Namjoon went silent for so long that Yoongi thought he might have hung up.

“Look. I’m sorry, kind of. I mean, I’m not sorry I said any of that, but I’m sorry this happened. You need to fix it, Yoongi.” There was shuffling on Namjoon’s end of the phone, and Yoongi opened his eyes, trying to breathe through his nose, trying to calm down.

“What are you doing?” he asked finally, and he could hear how listless he sounded. How empty. Empty without Jin.

“I’m picking an outfit out. I have a date tomorrow night. Tonight. Whatever.” Namjoon muttered, half-distracted now.

“With who?” Yoongi murmured. He was tired. So tired. Tired of himself, mostly, but also just...tired.

“With Jimin,” came the reply.

Yoongi was awake.

“Wait. You have a date with Park Fucking Jimin?? The same Jimin you’ve been practically in love with for three years? The same Jimin you were too scared to ask out? How did that even happen?” Yoongi was in shock. This was quite a development.

Namjoon’s laugh was real that time, and a little bashful and proud all at once. “I don’t know, Yoongi. I finally got my head out of my ass and realized I didn’t want to waste any more time not kissing him, y’know? I suggest you do the same.”

Yoongi sighed, thinking. Trying to organize the mess in his head. “Do you think I fucked it up for good?”

Namjoon’s response was immediate. “No. I don’t. But you will, if you don’t do something about it. Come on, Yoongi. Let yourself be happy. Jin makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

Yoongi thought about all the ways Jin made him happy, and then he had to stop thinking, because he would never have gotten around to answering Namjoon if he didn’t.

“Yeah. He does.”

On Namjoon’s end of the conversation, there was a loud crash. Yoongi didn’t even flinch, because this was Namjoon he was dealing with, and it wasn’t a typical day in Namjoon’s world if he didn’t break something in his house or some part of himself simply trying to exist.

“I’m good.” Namjoon said automatically, used to having to cover for his own clumsiness. Yoongi nodded, even though Namjoon couldn’t see him.

“So. Are you gonna go get your man?” Namjoon asked, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice, finally.

Yoongi was scared. He was terrified, actually, of all of this. Of letting himself trust someone enough to be with them. But he was even more scared of what would happen if he didn’t.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna.” he said after a while, lost in thought.

“Good. I’m going to bed now. Try not to destroy any more potential relationships between now and the next time we talk.” Namjoon snarked, but Yoongi knew he was still trying to lighten the mood.

“Fuck you,” he tossed back, picking himself up off the bench and trying to figure out where the hell he was.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Namjoon said, and hung up.

*

Jin had been staring at his computer screen for hours. Days, maybe. He wasn’t sure anymore. He knew exactly how long it had been since Yoongi had walked (well, run) out of his room. After that, four days, sixteen hours and approximately twelve minutes ago, he wasn’t sure of much else.

Okay. He’d cried a little, as it turned out. He hadn’t cried in front of Yoongi, thankfully. But after Yoongi was gone, and Taehyung wandered back into Jin’s room, full of obliviousness and noodles, to discuss the finer points of the anime he’d just finished, Jin finally broke down. He’d cried into Taehyung’s alarmingly soothing embrace for a good hour or so.

Whatever. It was fine. He was fine. He’d cried it out and gotten rid of those pesky feelings.

Now, he was staring at his computer screen, trying to make sense of the programs and tools Yoongi used to make music sound the way he did.

Yoongi had insisted they install all the programs onto Jin’s computer, just in case his laptop ever failed him, so there would be a backup plan. Jin had spent months watching Yoongi work, watching him pull sounds together and layer them and make them into something new and beautiful, and now Yoongi was gone and Jin didn’t know what else to do, so he kept going.

He had notebooks full of lyrics, after all. Pages and pages, all for the man who’d become his best friend. They’d gotten to know each other slowly, carefully, neither pushing the other too much.

Until Jin had pushed everything too far.

Jin sighed, letting his head bang onto the keyboard as he groaned. He’d had his one good cry. He wasn’t sure why he still felt so…

“Devastated?”

Taehyung’s voice rang out from the doorway of Jin’s room, and he lifted his head and turned to peer at his roommate.

“Pardon?” Jin murmured, wondering if he’d actually been saying all his thoughts out loud, or if Taehyung was just psychic.

“You look pretty devastated,” Taehyung repeated, taking a few steps into the room. “Are you devastated? Is this what devastated looks like?” he asked curiously, tilting his head from side to side to examine Jin.

Jin waved his hand dismissively, as if he was trying to shoo away a fly, rather than a grown man who acted like a child but knew way too much about life for Jin’s liking.

“Please stop saying devastated,” he muttered as Taehyung plopped down on Jin’s bed. They were both silent for a while, looking at each other quietly, until Taehyung piped up again. 

“He hasn’t taken down any of the songs you did together,” he mentioned, optimism edging his voice.

Jin rolled his eyes. “I know that. Of course I know that. How do you know that?”

Taehyung chuckled. “I’ve kind of been a huge fan of his for a long time, dude. Haven’t you seen me leaving comments on like every single one of his videos since before you started hanging out together?”

Jin frowned. “I don’t read comments. They’re always either weird or mean.”

Taehyung shrugged. “His music is great to give Bambi a bath to. I just have to make sure to keep Thumper in his cage, or else he gets jealous of the sweet jams Bambi and I dance to.”

“Thus proving my entire point,” Jin replied, without hesitation, “that you, your ferrets, and many, many people on the internet are truly, epically creepy.”

Taehyung ignored that, pressing onward. “So, what are you doing, besides sitting here being--”

“Devastated. Yep. Got it. I’m...I don’t know. I’m trying to write a song. Without him. About him. I’m trying to anything. I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t call him, so maybe if I can write a song and put it up...maybe he’ll hear it. Y’know?” Jin was grasping at straws, desperate to untangle the maze of thoughts clouding his mind and make sense of any of them. He directed his unsure gaze at Taehyung, who looked thoughtful.

“That’s very 80’s rom-com of you, but I like it. What have you got so far?” Taehyung asked, lifting himself off the bed to take his more customary position at Jin’s feet. Jin chose to disregard the first part, because he wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not, and he didn’t really want to know. He sighed, pressing play and letting the beat he’d been struggling with loop back around to the beginning.

It wasn’t long, not yet. Maybe twenty seconds or so. Jin let it repeat over and over, waiting until the third play to sing softly over the rhythms and rests he’d created, the slight instrumentation. The best he could do when he was woefully out of his depth, fumbling for anything that would work. Anything that would make Yoongi understand, if he even bothered to listen to it. Jin closed his eyes, singing the words he’d written at almost a whisper. He heard Taehyung scoot closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice yet. Not when he was so uncertain of what he was saying.

He was certain he meant it. Jin was one hundred percent positive that every word he’d ever written about Yoongi came from so deep inside of him that he’d never even realized he had them to say until Yoongi brought them out. He was certain he’d tied all his thoughts together well, into a poem, and then into lyrics.

He was less certain that Yoongi wanted to, or needed to hear it.

“Should I just let this go, Tae?” Jin asked finally, clicking the pause button on the loop and glancing at his roommate, curled up next to his computer chair.

Taehyung thought for a moment, before he answered. “Do you love Yoongi?” he questioned.

Jin shrugged. “I don’t know, Tae. I like him a lot.”

Taehyung stretched his legs, groaning softly. “Enough to love him later?”

“Yeah.” Jin didn’t have to pause before that response.

“Enough to make the potential embarrassment of posting a shit-tastic song on the internet worth it, if it’s for him?”

Jin reached out, smacking Taehyung upside the head. “Watch it.” Taehyung was too busy giggling to care much. He didn’t say anything. He just waited.

Finally, Jin nodded. “Yeah. Enough to post a hundred shit-tastic songs on the internet.”

Taehyung smiled. “Then, don’t let it go. Don’t let it go until you’ve done everything you can.” He patted Jin’s leg briskly, nodding with satisfaction that he had been of assistance.

Jin nodded too, turning back to his work. “All right then. Let’s do this.”

*

It had been eight days, six hours and approximately fifty-four minutes since Yoongi had left Jin’s, in the most regrettable way he could possibly think of, after the fact.

It had been eight days and five hours, give or take some, since Yoongi had made it home that night and started working on a way to fix what he’d done.

Jin hadn’t stopped making music. He’d uploaded a new song every day for the last three days, and they’d all made Yoongi feel absolutely strange. He’d never been proud of anyone before. Moreover, he’d never been so proud of someone that he felt like he would burst at the seams if he didn’t tell them.

Yoongi couldn’t tell Jin yet, couldn’t tell him how good he was on his own, that he didn’t need Yoongi at all, actually, but Yoongi was hoping like hell that he wanted him still. He couldn’t tell him how he listened to every word Jin sang and how he knew they were for him. He couldn’t tell him how that made him feel, that it made him scared and excited and happy and nervous all at once, and most of all unsure that he even deserved a second chance. If Jin were to give him one.

He couldn’t say any of those things, so he wrote them down.

Yoongi wrote and wrote, pages of handwriting until his fingers hurt, and he listened to Jin’s songs while he did it. He’d been so lucky, to be invited into Jin’s thoughts and his words and his mind, and then his literal shit-for-brains brain had, well...shit on it. Briefly.

It hadn’t lasted long. Yoongi had regretted it before he even hit the front door of Jin’s house. Namjoon had helped him out at his lowest point, but he was still alone when he got home. For once in his life, he didn’t wallow in it, or savor it. He decided to use it.

In between the writing and the planning, the knowledge that he had to make this count, Yoongi played Jin’s songs on repeat. The three new ones, the ones Jin had posted since Yoongi had been gone, were his favorites. The arrangements were simple, but Yoongi knew enough about music to know that that didn’t matter, if they were good. Music didn’t need to be complicated. It just needed to make you feel something.

Yoongi had never known he could feel so much.

He wasn’t in love with Jin, not yet. Not properly. He wasn’t in love, because he had refused to let himself go there, thus far.

He wasn’t in love. But, god, he wanted to be. He could feel it, like standing at the edge of some cliff, except when he pictured it, he wasn’t alone. Jin was standing next to him, and they were jumping together.

No one had ever kissed Yoongi like Jin did. Even his shy, hesitant kisses set Yoongi’s whole body on fire, made him very sure if Jin was actually ever trying to render him completely speechless, breathless, and a whole host of other “lesses”, he could do it in seconds. It was a valuable piece of knowledge, even if Yoongi honestly wasn’t sure if it was making him more determined, more nervous, or both.

Probably both.

*

Four more days later and still in that state of nervous determination, Yoongi found himself at the coffee shop where he and Jin had first met, standing at the counter with all the words he’d written in his back pocket, looking into the raccoon-esque eyes of Jungkook once again. It was finally the day he’d planned to do this, and he hadn’t really gone to sleep the night before, so Yoongi figured coffee was a good idea, on his way.

He was trying to think, because maybe Jin might want a sandwich and a drink too, but it was hard to put his thoughts together when he was being assaulted from all angles by the dulcet sounds of Panic at the Disco being played at top volume.

“Um,” Yoongi started, before he cleared his throat and yelled that same word again, “This music seems...different...than the usual stuff they play in here.”

Jungkook didn’t bother yelling his response, but Yoongi snapped his head up fast enough to read his lips as he mumbled.

“My boss is gone and I can do whatever I want. Now, can I take your order, old dude?”

Yoongi scowled, huffing out a breath of air and narrowing his eyes at Jungkook. Then, before the kid could react, Yoongi had slipped around him and behind the counter, making his way to the office. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Jungkook was watching with his jaw dropped.

He still remembered which door it was. He’d worked here years ago, when he had just left Daegu and was younger than EmoKook, probably, and he still remembered. Yoongi threw the door open triumphantly, spotting the controls for the loudspeaker and marching over to them defiantly. With a loud scratching noise, he cut off the wailing racket and turned right back around to leave, a smirk on his face.

Jungkook was still standing at the register, waiting. The shop was still empty. Yoongi resumed his position on the opposite side of the counter from Jungkook, and neither of them said anything for several long moments.

Finally, Jungkook sighed, that same weary sigh he’d had when Yoongi had been here with Jin.

“All right, old dude. What do you want?”

Yoongi didn’t even say anything about the name calling that time.

“Two sprout sandwiches. Coffee. Strawberry frappe. Make it snappy, I’m on a schedule.” he ordered, slamming his money down on the counter.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, punching the order into the system. Yoongi’s ears were still ringing from the screeching sounds of the disenfranchised youth of the mid-2000’s, but he sat down at a table to wait and tried to ignore it. He succeeded so well that he almost didn’t notice when the music started up again, albeit quieter. The kid had traded Panic at the Disco for Fall Out Boy, and Yoongi couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not.

He didn’t have much time to think about it before Jungkook sat down in the chair across from him, a serious look on his face. Yoongi opened his mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he was beaten to the punch.

“Do you like Fall Out Boy?” Jungkook asked, and it was as earnest as Yoongi had seen him so far.

“Uh. No. Not really.” Yoongi muttered. It didn’t even matter if he did or not. He just wanted this interaction to cease.

“You should. They’re geniuses. Defined a genre. Listen to this shit. Listen to the way the guitar goes, it’s like…”

Jungkook trailed off, his words fading out into an odd run of doo-dee-doo’s as he played air guitar, demonstrating whatever point he was trying to get across to Yoongi.

Yoongi stared at him open mouthed, then flicked his eyes desperately towards the kitchen. “Jesus,” he muttered, getting up from his chair and leaving the dark haired boy with the terrible posture by himself. “Can we just...is this ready? Is my shit ready? Please?” He knocked on the window of the kitchen, casting a wary glance back at Jungkook, who had his eyes closed in absolute bliss and hadn’t even noticed he was gone yet.

The window opened a second later, and a bag was shoved through. Yoongi grabbed it, balancing the drink holder in his other hand, and got the fuck out while he still could.

*

Jin worked on the 23rd floor, and the elevator was made of glass.

Yoongi pressed himself against the wall of the tiny box on cables, the ones that could snap at any moment and send him plunging to his premature demise. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. There would be no early death today, he told himself. Not unless Jin decided to rip out Yoongi’s heart and hand it to him with a smile. He might have deserved that.

People got on and off the elevator as it went, and the whole ride took several more long minutes than Yoongi was comfortable with. He inhaled into his nose and out through his mouth, keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t like heights, and the concept of glass elevators was basically the most sadistic thing he could think of, architecturally, when that particular phobia manifested itself. Three more floors to go.

The elevator dinged on the 23rd floor, and Yoongi stepped off quickly, swaying a little with the bag and the drinks in his hand as he tried to ground himself again. Jin worked for a swanky design firm. The floors were marble and the furniture was sleek, even in the open lobby.

Once Yoongi’s stomach flip-flopped back to where it belonged, he made his way across the floor, the soles of his worn shoes clapping against the hard rock far louder than he wanted them to. The receptionist smiled and nodded when she saw him. He wasn’t exactly a stranger here, although it had been a while. He tried to smile back, and went through the revolving doors leading to the long bank of cubicles where Jin sat.

It was lunchtime, and the office was pretty dead. Yoongi knew that Jin usually took lunch right at his desk, preferring to reheat leftovers he’d brought from home rather than go out with his co-workers, so he wasn’t worried about whether or not he’d find him.

Jin would be there. He had to be there.

Yoongi repeated that to himself silently over and over as he walked, counting the cubicles to his left until he got to number fourteen. Jin worked in number thirteen, and Yoongi smiled a little as he got close enough to see Jin’s nameplate slid into the holder on the outside of the makeshift walls.

He let himself into cubicle fourteen. It was empty, and had been since Jin’s co-worker had quit one day, having gotten fed up with the micro-management and TPS reports that were part and parcel of the corporate world.

Yoongi sat down at the desk on one wall of the cubicle, lining up the bag and drinks in front of him. He leaned forward, listening for any signs of life from Jin’s workspace. Someone was talking in a low voice, too low for Yoongi to understand the words they were saying, but it was Jin. It had to be.

He yanked his letter out of his back pocket, spreading the crumpled sheets of paper out on the desk and staring at them. He was really going to do this. He was going to make as big of a gesture as he ever had to anyone.

Yoongi had thought about it for a long time. He’d thought about what Jin would like, what he would appreciate. Flowers? Maybe, but Yoongi wasn’t the type. Chocolates, certainly, but Yoongi had forgotten about that when he thought of the sandwiches. A marching band, hired to play one of the many songs they’d connected with together? Definitely too much.

So, there was the letter he’d spent hours on, instead. The words that meant more than any of the other crap would have. He hoped Jin agreed.

Yoongi cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh...Jin? It’s me, Yoongi.”

Silence. The voice trailed off.

Yoongi bit his lip. “Just...I know this is weird and maybe I shouldn’t be here, but I miss you and I have something to say.”

The silence deepened.

Yoongi felt himself starting to blush. “Just...knock on the wall twice if you want to hear it, okay?”

Seconds passed between Yoongi’s request and Jin’s answer, but it felt like the longest eternity Yoongi had ever sat through. 

Two knocks sounded on the cubicle wall separating them.

Yoongi took a deep breath.

“Dear Jin.”

Ugh.

“Wait, no. Ignore that. I wrote this...it’s a letter, and I was just reading it from top to...fuck. Nevermind. I’m starting over.”

This was already going well.

Yoongi heard the soft sound of the wheels of Jin’s chair squeaking, moving closer to the wall. He allowed himself one brief second of hope, and then he started again.

“Jin, I...I’m so sorry. I know that what I did is...was unforgivable. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t forgive me. I want to explain to you why I did it.”

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the next words, and prepared to say them.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to be a badass. Trying not to care about anything, or anyone, but really, the truth is, I care too much. I always care too much, and I hate it, and so I try to be the other way instead. And it’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid, Jin. Except...I didn’t realize how stupid it was, until I met you.”

Yoongi was starving suddenly. And thirsty. His coffee had gone cold. He looked away from the letter long enough to shove a straw through the opening in Jin’s stupid frappe that he didn’t even like, and Yoongi didn’t know why he’d gotten it, except that it reminded him of the day they’d met. He unwrapped one of the sandwiches too, taking a bite and chewing as quietly as possible. He followed that up with a slurp on the frappe, grimacing immediately as he tried to swallow.

“Jesus. You were right, that shit is way too sweet. This. This shit. I brought you a strawberry frappe and a sprout sandwich, because...I don’t know, because I thought that even if you didn’t want anything to do with me after this, I thought you might be hungry and I wanted to…” Yoongi trailed off, glancing back down at the words he’d written. So many words, and suddenly, none of them were good enough. Yoongi pushed the papers away, taking another bite of the sandwich and forcing himself to swallow more of the frappe as he spoke again, pulling thoughts from the tip of his tongue instead of the letter he'd written.

“I want to take care of you. I’ve never wanted to take care of anyone before, not even myself. I want to protect you, which is actually the dumbest part of all of this because you’re strong as hell and I’m probably the one who needs protecting, let’s be honest. Mostly from myself. I’m always trying to sabotage everything, Jin. I convinced myself a long time ago that being an artist meant being in pain and that I had to suffer to be good. But...fuck that, y’know? I’m sick of fake-suffering. I want to be happy.”

The admission stunned Yoongi, and he sat silently for a moment, thinking about what he’d just said.

“I want to be happy with you. I want to kiss you again, because, fuck, that kiss, Jin. That kiss was...it was everything I never knew I could actually have. I don’t. I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you, but I’m kind of falling for you and I kind of can’t stop, and I just...I couldn’t give up without trying to fix this. Fix what I did.”

Half the sandwich was gone, and a third of the frappe.

“I bought this sandwich and this frappe because I...I went to the coffee shop, and that dumb kid was there again, by the way. Jungkook. He wanted to talk about Fall Out Boy.”

Yoongi thought he might have heard a quiet snicker from the other side of the wall.

“Anyway. This sandwich reminds me of you. It reminds me of the day we met. I was terrified, Jin. You scared the hell out of me, because you were tall and beautiful and too good for me, and you still are all those things, but I have to try. I have to try, because...you made me feel stuff. For the first time in ages. Your voice and your lyrics and...just you. All the things I learned about you, I just felt more and more all the time.”

Yoongi took another swig off the frappe to stop the blubbering he could feel welling up in his throat.

“I shouldn’t have run. I knew that then and I still know it. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left. But, um...if you want, I have another sandwich and half a frappe and some cold coffee and we could just...we could talk about it? Maybe? We could talk about how I’m like sixty-seven percent in love with you and I want to go the rest of the way there but I don’t want to do it alone. I don’t want to be alone, not when I could be with you. If I could be with you, Jin. I…”

There was a soft squeak from the other side of the wall, Jin getting up from his chair. Yoongi stuttered out a gasp of surprise, because as prepared as he was, he was not ready. He was not ready at all.

It wasn’t Jin.

The head that popped up from inside Jin’s cubicle belonged to an unfamiliar man, with a megawatt smile.

“Hi. Jung Hoseok, IT guy. Just in here fixing Seokjin’s laptop.”

Oh. So this is what dying of embarrassment feels like.

Hoseok leaned against the wall between them, resting his chin on his hands as he regarded Yoongi.

“Y’know, I’m actually seeing someone right now, but that was really nice, man. I don’t think it went to waste.”

Yoongi looked up, but Hoseok wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes were on something behind Yoongi.

The thudding feeling that began to bounce around in Yoongi’s chest, where his heart most definitely was, might have been so loud that both Hoseok and whatever...whoever...was behind Yoongi could hear it.

He turned around slowly.

Jin was standing there, leaning against the entrance of the cubicle. He was tall, and beautiful, and he didn’t look angry. He wasn’t crying, either, and as per usual, Yoongi felt like bawling.

Jin looked relieved. He looked happy.

Yoongi heard something behind him as he stood up slowly, probably the sounds of Hoseok giving them their privacy, but he didn’t glance back. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jin.

“Hey,” Jin said softly, smiling a little. Yoongi tried to smile back, but he wasn’t sure it was working, because he was also vaguely nauseous and he couldn’t tell which occurrence was winning out at the moment.

“Hey.” he answered, closing the small distance between them slowly. Jin smelled really good. He smelled like a hug. Yoongi didn’t really know what that meant, but he knew it was true.

He stopped two steps away from Jin, and waited. Jin didn’t say anything, just stood there, leaning and looking.

Yoongi licked his lips, racking his brain. “Do you...do you want to...talk…”

Jin shook his head, stepping closer, that gentle smile still on his face. “No. Not really.”

They were so close now that Yoongi could feel the warmth radiating off of Jin, and he had to tilt his head up to look into his eyes, but then that didn’t matter anymore because his body had moved of its own volition, pressing itself against Jin and Yoongi was reaching up to pull his face down for a kiss.

Yoongi had to remind himself that they were in Jin’s office, at Jin’s workplace, so he didn’t get too carried away. It would have been easy, with the way they were melting into each other, and the way he was so fucking happy and so unbelievably lucky.

Jin pulled away first, but he kept Yoongi’s face cradled in his hands, and his eyes were smiling just as much as he was when he spoke again.

“I like this conversation better.”

*

Six months later

“You know, you should really start reading the comments.”

“Why? You tell me all the good ones, anyway, and I don’t want to see the bad ones. What do I need to torture myself for?”

Yoongi sighed, turning his chair around to gaze at Jin with a smile. “I don’t tell you all the good ones. People love your voice, Jin. They love your voice and your lyrics and my music. They love our music. It’s pretty cool to see the reactions.” Yoongi said, motioning for Jin to join him. Jin rolled his eyes from across the room, where he was laying on the bed, reading comics, but he got up anyway, dutifully shuffling over until he was close enough for Yoongi to pull him halfway onto his lap. Jin tried not to make too big of a dork of himself blushing and grinning. He probably failed.

He followed Yoongi’s fingertip, pressed to the screen, to the latest comments.

Still can’t believe PinkPrince and 2Kool4Kumamon are a thing, I’m gunna write so much fanfic guys

They’re making quality music here love it!!

Better together for sure xxxxxxx

Yo PinkPrince - please bring home toilet paper

That one was Taehyung. Jin had barely been home in the last few days. He wondered when he should tell Taehyung that Yoongi had officially asked him to move in, and that he’d given him a tentative yes.

He wondered if Taehyung would accidentally burn down the house one day, without Jin there to police nearly his entire existence.

Jin decided to shelve that thought for now, his eyes continuing to wander down the long list of comments on TheRealKumaPrince’s latest video. Their collaborative channel was more successful than either of them had ever been on their own.

Jin paused halfway down the page, reading to himself silently.

THIS SONG IS DOGSHIT DUDE CANT SING I GOT BETTER RUNS IN MY PANTS THEN HE DOES IN HIS VOCALS AND MY GIRLFRIEND AGREES

Well. Jin didn’t even know where to begin. The misspelling? The aggressive all caps? The terrible, failed “humor”? It was all just so intense. So laughably intense. He was starting to laugh, when Yoongi reached the comment too.

“Oh, hell no.” Yoongi muttered, shoving Jin off his lap.

Jin managed to land on his feet, however ungracefully, and he surged back towards Yoongi immediately, his boyfriend already typing furiously, face set in a distinct look of rage.

“Babe…” Jin started, because he was surprisingly unruffled by this, but Yoongi looked just about ready to murder BigBoi69.

Yoongi didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, where he was hunting and pecking keys to get his points across, as he scoffed. “Don’t ‘babe’ me. Nobody talks shit about you on my goddamn watch.”

Jin sighed, leaning forward to see the reply Yoongi had just triumphantly posted.

I WILL LITERALLY RIP YOUR EARS OFF AND FEED THEM TO YOU UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT GOOD MUSIC TASTES LIKE YOU MOTHERFUCKER FIGHT ME FIGHT ME FIGHT ME FIGHT ME <33333 2KOOL4KUMAMON

Jin groaned. “Yoongi. That’s a bit much.”

Yoongi crossed his arms petulantly. “Nobody. Talks shit about you. On my watch. Jin.”

Jin smiled in spite of himself, kissing his angry boyfriend on the cheek and delighting in the way it made him blush, even as he was trying to let his temper amp up even more. He scooted Yoongi and the chair he was in to the side gently with his hip, crouching down to type his own response quickly. Yoongi waited until he was done and standing behind the chair again to read.

Hi, BigBoi69! So pleased you were a fan of this song. Your girlfriend sounds just lovely, as well, and very agreeable. Do let me know how she’s enjoying your undoubtedly small dick, along with the neverending piles of laundry she must have to do, what with all those runs in your pants. Take care! -PinkPrince xx

Yoongi’s jaw dropped as he stared at the words. He knew right then, just like he knew every single day, that Jin was one thousand percent cooler than he was. One thousand percent more amazing, and that he would probably never stop learning from him how to be a better person, more calm. More dangerous, when necessary.

Jin was definitely lethal. He was pretty on the outside, certainly. But inside...Yoongi knew there was darkness, and seduction, all tied up in one incredibly sweet package. He loved it.

“I love you so much,” Yoongi murmured, standing up and turning to look at Jin, who was still behind him, arms crossed over his chest and sweater falling off one shoulder and looking pretty pleased with himself. That was all it took. Yoongi was hopelessly turned on.

Jin chuckled. “I love you too, idiot.” He moved to the side to let Yoongi pass, watching him as he stretched, hands in the air.

“You hungry?” Yoongi asked, trying to deflect, giving himself a chance to calm down, because he couldn’t just spend all day and night underneath and on top of Jin. Probably. Most likely not. “I could eat. We could go--”

He was cut off by Jin pressing him to the door of the bedroom, the feeling of Jin’s hands sliding up under his shirt brazenly. The glint in Jin’s eyes as he smirked down at Yoongi, who was practically shuddering at his touch already.

Jin kissed him then, kissed Yoongi hard, licking into his mouth and dragging his teeth across Yoongi’s bottom lip until Yoongi was all but whimpering, still trying to make sense of when the conversation had changed to this, but not at all opposed to that change. Jin gave him whiplash, in the very best ways.

“You don’t fool me for a second,” Jin purred, the words vibrating against Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi laughed weakly, running his hands through Jin’s hair.

“Good. I’m glad.” he whispered, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much.

Jin pulled away, his hair a mess from where Yoongi had tugged on it and his cheeks flushed. “Now that you mention it, though, I am a little hungry,” Jin mused, throwing a wink at Yoongi’s look of dismay.

By way of response, Yoongi reached up and grabbed Jin’s face again, pulling him down until their noses touched and they were both grinning, their hearts beating in time with one another’s as he finally found an answer.

“Food later. Kisses now.”