Archive of Our Own

“Shit,” Yoongi cursed, gripping the piece of paper in his hands a little too tightly, causing the edges to crinkle. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Dude, shut up, everyone can hear you,” Namjoon elbowed his friend in the rib. “What’s wrong? Bad grade?”

“No shit, I got a bad grade,” Yoongi hissed, shoving his graded essay into Namjoon’s apathetic face. “A B, a fucking B, Namjoon.”

Pushing away the paper with a roll of his eyes, Namjoon shrugged. “Doesn't sound too bad.”

“Not bad? Not bad?? Joon, this class is going to pull down my GPA a fuckton if I don't get at least an A overall by the end of the semester,” he groaned loudly, attracting curious looks from the other students sitting around them in the lecture hall.

It wouldn't be that bad, really, if not for the fact that Yoongi’s entire scholarship was on the line. To keep his music scholarship - i.e the only thing that was keeping his broke-ass in university - he was required to maintain a 4.0 GPA average.

(He’d fucked up last semester because he got cocky and signed himself up for a vocal class because, hey, he was a music major right? He could rap. How hard would singing be?

As it turned out - very hard. Yoongi quickly learned that his singing voice sounded like a rheumatoid ahjusshi. Safe to say, he did not do well.)

He slumped into his seat, wanting nothing more but to shrink away and dissolve until he was just a stain on the fabric of the chair. Yoongi didn't even know why he was in this class in the first place. Again, he was a music major; music was the only thing he knew like the back of his hand, and it was the only thing he was actually really, really good at. How did someone like him somehow end up in English lit of all places?

Oh, right. Kim Namjoon.

His best buddy had gone on and on about it the week before class registration begun, groveling for Yoongi to accompany him in signing up so that he wouldn't have to be alone in the (‘Really, easy peasy! You won’t even need to study!’) class. (Namjoon had lied.)

20th Century English Literature. The fuck. Only Namjoon would sign up for that shit.

Immediately sensing a bad idea, Yoongi had rejected him over and over again then, a thousand ‘no’s passing through his lips and falling onto deaf ears. But Yoongi stood his ground. He was more than willing to throw Namjoon out to the sharks, since Namjoon clearly so badly wanted to die. No amount of persuasion could sway Yoongi - Joon was in it alone.

But then registration week came along and Yoongi, for the life of him, could not get placements in any of his desired gen-ed classes, and instead received an ominous email offering only two options: English Literature, or Calculus.

So no thanks to sheer bad luck (and also because fuck calculus, fuck calculus so hard), Yoongi had ended up on the first week of class, seated grumpily beside a gleeful Namjoon, who kept rambling something about ‘karma being a real bitch’.

Speaking of terrible friends, Yoongi turned towards his, nudging him roughly. “Yo, how did you do?”

As if it was no big deal, Namjoon just wordlessly held up his own sheet, a big, fat, mocking ‘A+’ scrawled on the corner of the paper, and Yoongi growled.

Of course. How could Yoongi have forgotten that Namjoon was Namjoon? After all, his IQ of 148 wasn't without its uses. And paired with his fluent ability to read and understand English? He was unstoppable.

Yoongi’s talents, however, did not lie in this particular niche, and seeing his poor score next to Namjoon’s and thinking about his scholarship in peril, he started to panic. Tugging on Namjoon’s sleeve, he began to plead with his friend.

“Joonie-ah… My best friend, my everything, the holder of my heart,” he waxed poetic behind fluttering eyelashes, causing Namjoon to cringe in disgust. “You gotta tutor me, man. I need this grade, Joon, I’m desperate,” he pleaded pathetically, his pouty lips on display at full force.

But Namjoon could only push him away gently and spare him an sorry (pitiful) look. “Sorry, man, you know I don't have time to do that. My shifts at the radio station have been insane lately after they fired that Jackson guy for being too loud,” he sighed, giving Yoongi’s thigh a small of pat of apology.

Yoongi understood; Namjoon’s schedule was undeniably tight these few weeks. He couldn’t possibly force his friend to give up any more time on him. But while he nodded considerately in front of Namjoon, Yoongi’s mind was slowly growing more despondent as he played out his options in his head. The thing was, his English skills were perfectly fine for day-to-day interactions, but he was never really equipped for the more advanced nuances of literature. He needed someone who was good at that shit to help him out, or he was screwed.

Suddenly, like an answer to his prayers, he overheard the shrill voice of his acquaintance, Jung Hoseok - dance major, ray of sunshine, loud - yapping in excitement from a few rows in front of him.

“Wow, hyung! You got an A+?! That’s amazing!” cried Hoseok, clapping his hands so quickly that they started looking like a blur.

Immediately, Yoongi’s head shot up, eager to spot this mysterious person with an aptitude for confusing literary mumbo-jumbo that actually rivalled Joonie. His scanning gaze eventually fell onto the guy that Hoseok had been addressing enthusiastically, and Yoongi’s heart dropped a little.

It happened to be Kim Seokjin, that shy kid who never spoke to anybody except Hoseok - who nobody even knew what he truly looked liked, considering the fact that half his face was always concealed by long, floppy bangs over his thick, circular glasses.

‘Of all people, it had to be him?’, Yoongi groaned internally, running his hand across his face in frustration. Kim Seokjin wasn’t really Yoongi’s first choice in - well - pretty much anything. Not to be a dick or anything, but the kid was a little… weird. In a neutral way. Like it wasn’t bad; he mostly kept to himself a lot and was very reserved. But approachable wasn’t really a word that anybody would ever use to describe him. In fact, the way his face was always hidden kind of gave him an intimidating aura that put many of their classmates off.

But as Yoongi spared another glance at the boy, a voice inside his head kept urging him to give Seokjin a chance. It wasn’t like he had many options anyway. A financially-struggling uni student with his scholarship hanging by a thread like Yoongi couldn’t afford many things in life; much less to be picky.

Besides, Hoseok seemed like a good judge of character, and he seemed to get along with Seokjin just fine. So maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Seokjin wouldn’t be that bad after all.

“Hoseok. Yah. Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi hiss-whispered, beckoning Hoseok over to where he sat with an urgent wave of the hand. Hoseok turned to find the source of his name being called, and found Yoongi making weird faces at him, gesturing for him to come over. Puzzled, but still beaming, Hoseok bounded up the steps with a cheerful ‘what’s up?’

Losing any semblance of pride that he might have had within him, Yoongi explained the situation to his kind-of friend while Hoseok listened attentively. “Yeah, so, could you, like, ask him for me?” Yoongi ended with an embarrassed blush, scratching the back of his neck while he looked up at Hoseok hopefully.

Wiggling his eyebrows, Hoseok grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.” Before Yoongi could even thank him, the hyperactive guy had already sped off. He leaned over to Seokjin, talking animatedly in a volume low enough that Yoongi wasn’t able to discern their conversation this time. Suddenly, Seokjin’s head spun around, and he stared at directly at Yoongi - or at least, that’s what Yoongi thought. He couldn’t really tell because of the bangs over his eyes, but still! It felt like they had made eye contact.

Turning back just as quickly, Seokjin whispered something to Hoseok that made the dancer break out in an even bigger smile. A few moments later, Hoseok showed up beside Yoongi’s seat once again with a toothy grin. “He’ll do it!” Hoseok declared triumphantly.

“That was fast,” Yoongi blinked, glancing back down towards Seokjin, who had gone back to ‘staring’ at him again, sending an odd chill down his spine. He pulled away his own gaze, when he felt a sticky note being pressed into his palm. “What’s this?” he wondered out loud.

“Seokjin hyung told me to give you his number. Text him to schedule your study sessions,” Hoseok explained. Sure enough, there were eight digits written neatly in black ink over the yellow paper. Tucking it carefully into his shirt pocket, Yoongi gave Hoseok a sincere thanks, to which Hoseok responded, “Happy to help!” But before he returned to his own seat, Hoseok paused. He looked back at Yoongi, a smaller, subdued smile playing upon his lips.

“Be kind to him, hyung.”

Yoongi furrowed his brows, but nodded nonetheless. “Of course I will, no question about it,” he assured Hoseok, which seemed to satisfy the younger boy enough to send him back down the steps.

Patting the pocket that held Seokjin’s cell phone number absently, Yoongi let out a long sigh, one that he himself wasn’t sure was out of relief or trepidation.

In any case, Yoongi had found himself a tutor.

---

That night, Yoongi texted Seokjin for the first time. Despite the initial awkwardness and almost-painful formality maintained in their messages, they had somehow managed to power through the conversation and coordinate a tutoring schedule that worked for both of them.

Their first session started the very next day.

Yoongi eyes kept darting between the screen of his phone and the sign on the door, checking and checking again against the memo that he had created on his phone to make sure that he had gotten the right study room.

He was slightly anxious all of a sudden, unsure of what to expect from the quiet boy. God, he didn't even know what he sounded like! But it was going to be fine. It had to be; he didn't have much of a choice. Yoongi took in a deep breath, squared his shoulders and made one last check at the door.

Room 9392. That was the one.

Pushing the door open, he walked into the room. Immediately, he spotted the familiar figure, hunched over some books. He hadn't noticed Yoongi coming in, so Yoongi attempted to catch his attention by clearing his throat nervously.

“Seokjin sunbae?” he called out, shuffling cautiously towards the table.

Upon hearing another voice in the room, Seokjin snapped his head up, presumably locking his eyes on Yoongi. The corners of his full lips lifted into a kind smile, and he gestured for Yoongi to sit down.

“Hello there,” he greeted, his voice surprisingly gentle and calming, not at all what Yoongi had been expecting (not that he had expected anything at all - Seokjin had always been sort of a blank in his mind). His fingers knotted together uncertainly, playing with the sleeve of the oversized sweater he always wore, neck flushed a light pink. “Ah, sunbae is a bit…” he fumbled. “Y-you can just call me Jin if you like.”

“But you’re older,” Yoongi frowned. “Hoseok told me.”

“Then hyung will do,” Seokjin said shyly, ducking away from Yoongi’s gaze. He busied himself with the lesson material in front of him, hastily thumbing through the pages of their book. “Shall we get started then? Maybe you should let me see your essay so I can see what we need to work on.”

Nodding, Yoongi obediently - if not a little embarrassedly - handed over the crumpled paper and waited patiently as Seokjin read through it with an impassive expression.

After a few treacherously long minutes, Seokjin finally put the paper down and hummed thoughtfully, evoking a choked-up ‘So…?’ from the anticipating Yoongi.

“You're not completely off, Yoongi, I think you know that too. Your analysis is fine, you just could do well explaining them better,” Seokjin explained gently, pointing out the areas that could be improved. “Your thoughts are a little… all over the place.”

“Yeah, welcome to the inner workings of my mind. It’s a real clusterfuck up there,” Yoongi grumbled. “I can’t fuckin’ do lit!” He let out a weird half-gurgle, half-scream, fully expecting Seokjin to judge him - they hadn't gone too far; Seokjin could still run out of the classroom while he had the chance, and leave Yoongi to rot here with a ripped copy of Kafka’s Metamorphosis between his teeth.

But instead of judging him, Seokjin did something totally out of left field: he laughed. Short and breathless, covering his full lips with his dainty fingers.

“Hey, don’t worry, Yoongi-ah,” he giggled. “It’s fine not to get it straight away. The fact that you’re here, willing to be tutored by someone like me - it shows you’re trying your best. I think that’s very admirable. You can do this, I’m sure.”

Somehow, just seeing the older boy’s smile made Yoongi feel at ease, and he found himself, growing red at the compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbled. If Seokjin thought he could do this, then he was definitely going to put in his best efforts. “Please teach me well then, Jin hyung.”

“Yeah! Yoongi-ssi, hwaiting!” Seokjin grinned, pumping his fist in determination, making Yoongi break out into a gummy smile.

Guess the weird kid wasn't so weird after all.

---

As it turned out, Seokjin was an excellent tutor. There was something about his style of teaching that really helped Yoongi to understand the concepts that had previously never gained any traction in his mind.

They spend a few weeks together, every afternoon in the same classroom. Seokjin didn't have many friends to begin with, so he was more than happy to be teaching Yoongi. And Yoongi was driven enough - by the threat of losing 30 million won - to forego any free time in favour of diligent studying. (Besides, it never felt like a chore or anything. He was really enjoying being tutored by Seokjin. It was almost… fun? Which was definitely not a thought he would have ever applied to English literature, like, ever.)

Seokjin taught Yoongi about themes and literary devices; helped him with how to structure his essays and how to eloquently bring across his points so that they could be understood better. And Yoongi couldn't be more grateful.

He began to truly understand the material better, and was finding it much easier to keep a good flow in his writing. For once, Yoongi could attend lectures and actually keep up with them without giving up halfway to scroll through Twitter and silently chuckle at memes.

He was improving fast, and he really wanted to do something for Seokjin in return.

“Do you want to go for dinner?” Yoongi asked suddenly one evening, after they had ended a tiring session about absurdist humour (what was so funny about a man turning into a cockroach anyway?) and were just about head out the door.

“W-what?” Seokjin presumably blinked - again, ‘presumably’ because at this point, whatever expression he was making with his eyes was just a wildcard to Yoongi, who could only make the vaguest of guesses from the tiny little gaps between the mop of hair that perpetually covered the top half of Seokjin’s face.

“Yeah, dinner. My treat of course,” Yoongi added, scratching his neck absently. “To repay you for teaching me. I kind of owe you, don't I?”

Seokjin’s face broke out into a warm smile, but he shook his head to reject Yoongi. “You don't have to treat me to dinner, I know you’re broke. You’re better off using that time to work on your music, or to study! Pay me back by doing well and keeping your scholarship, Yoongi-ah,” he said, patting Yoongi’s arm kindly, and Yoongi felt like he was going to bloody cry, because what did he ever do to deserve such a great tutor?!

“Thank you, hyung. For real,” Yoongi said seriously. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow,” Seokjin replied shyly, cheeks pink and ears burning as he awkwardly shuffled down the corridor, leather messenger bag smacking against his thigh comically in his rush to escape.

Yoongi couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

The next day, Yoongi walked into their usual meeting spot, but this time, he was swinging a white plastic bag cheerfully in his hands.

“What’s all this?” Seokjin asked, peering into the overflowing bag that Yoongi had unceremoniously dumped on the desk, right in front of Seokjin’s face.

“Snacks!” Yoongi declared triumphantly, standing in front of the table with his hands on his hips and grinning smugly like he’d just invented modern electricity.

Seokjin didn't look that impressed, however, pushing away the bag from him and frowning. “Yoongi, I told you, you didn't have to do me any favours -”

“They’re not all for you pabo-yah,” Yoongi snapped jokingly, pouting. “I’m hungry too. So we're sharing them, ok?”

“Oh!” Seokjin nodded eagerly, his eyes finally lighting up in understanding. He seemed so small and childish at that moment, despite his frame realistically being able to swallow Yoongi up whole. “Yay, thanks! I love snacks, which one should we eat first?”

“You can pick, I don't care,” Yoongi sniffed nonchalantly, dropping down lazily into his chair opposite Seokjin.

At least, that was what he convinced himself to think. It wasn't as if his tsundere-ass wanted to let Seokjin have the pick. And he had definitely not run to the convenience store immediately after class to get as many packets of snacks as he could, and he definitely hadn't stood in front of the shelf for ages, carefully picking them out according to what he thought Seokjin might like.

And none of this was because he had been so touched by Seokjin’s words that he felt all gooey on the inside and wanted to do something to make Seokjin happy.

Not at all.

“Wow, you’re like a genius or something, you somehow got all of my favourites!” Seokjin exclaimed, rummaging through the pile. He finally dug out a pack of banana chips and waved it in the air. “This shall be our first victim,” he grinned, and Yoongi was suddenly glad that he had remembered how much Seokjin enjoyed bananas.

“Great...” Yoongi mumbled, seconds before his focus was completely snatched away from him.

Seokjin was happily munching away on the snacks, looking the most cheerful Yoongi had ever seen him.

Because of his long hair, whatever expression Seokjin made, Yoongi’s ability to interpret them had always been limited to his nose, cheeks and lips.

And right now, Yoongi was 100% certain that he was happy, because his nose was crinkling up cutely, his cheeks puffed up as he chewed, and his lips - soft and luscious as ever - were pulled up at the corners, charming wrinkles forming around the sides as he showed off his bright smile.

The final selling point, the real icing on the cake that made something fluffy and warm stir within Yoongi, were the tiny little dimples that appeared only on the rarest of times.

For the first time, Yoongi found himself thinking that Kim Seokjin might just be the cutest guy he’d ever met.

---

They don't always stick to talking about literature.

Sometimes, when they’re tired of staring at an impenetrable wall of text, they take short breaks and chat about other non - mind-numbing things.

Most of the time, this meant Yoongi going on and on about his love for music. Since he was spending so much of his spare time with only Seokjin, the reserved English major was the only person with whom Yoongi had a chance to talk to about his latest musical endeavours, aside from Namjoon, who was tired of it all anyway.

At times, he got a little over excited, and would gesture wildly out of habit, like right now, when he was describing the ‘dope as fuck’ baseline of the new song he was writing.

“It’s like ‘boom boom boom’,” Yoongi began, not doing a good job at physically describing a beat with his hands. “I don't know how to say it but it’s really cool and - what? What is it? Am I rambling again?” he asked, heat crawling up his cheeks as Seokjin’s shoulders quaked with silent laughter.

“No, no, this all very interesting,” Seokjin assured him, his teeth flashing in an amused grin.

“Shut up, don't lie to me,” Yoongi pouted, flicking sulkily at the loose sheets of paper that lay strewn across the table - evidence of a productive tutoring session. “If you're gonna laugh, why don't you talk about what you like for once, instead of letting me drone on forever about my shit?”

“I like listening to you talk about music. I think what you do is amazing, whereas I’m a boring guy in comparison,” Seokjin shrugged, hesitant about sharing his personal ambitions. After all, Yoongi had a plan for his music - a real burning passion. Seokjin had a flimsy dream and nothing else. It was barely worth mentioning.

“You’re not, don't say that,” Yoongi shook his head violently. “A boring guy would have hair like that,” Yoongi pointed out, causing Seokjin to burst out into a loud giggle.

Encouraged by seeing his friend lighten up again, Yoongi continued to urge him on. “Come on, humour me, hyung. What are your dreams, your aspirations?”

Seokjin wanted to speak but he faltered, still apprehensive. It was a dream of his that he rarely ever divulged to anybody else, for fear of being laughed at.

But Yoongi was waiting, looking at him with such genuine curiosity that Seokjin actually felt confident for once. Confident that this person wouldn't judge him for wanting to do something that sometimes felt like it was so out of his realm of possibility.

“Acting,” he blurted out suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to act.”

He grimaced out of instinct, expecting laughter or ridicule. But none of it came. Instead, there was only Yoongi, lips slowly breaking into a beautiful gummy smile.

“Yeah? You love acting?” Yoongi asked quietly, and Seokjin nodded in reply. “That’s great, hyung, I think it suits you.”

His mouth parted in shock at Yoongi’s calm and supportive reaction, surprised that those were the words that came out instead of mocking him for wanting something so ridiculous for someone like him. Lips quivering, Seokjin stammered in confusion. “W-wha - really? You really think so? But everyone else -”

“Forget what everyone else says,” Yoongi interrupted him. Reaching out across the table to grab Seokjin’s hand, he gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. “It’s your dream, not theirs. Just believe in yourself - I sure as hell do.”

“I’ve always been too shy to audition, though…” Seokjin bit his lower lip, thinking of all the opportunities he had foregone because he had been too timid, in spite of all the training he had amassed from various acting classes he had attended without anybody's knowledge.

“Then we just gotta work on building your confidence,” Yoongi said in a way that made it sound almost stupidly simple.

“Easy for you to say, you're brimming with self-confidence. I’m not like you, I can't just raise it just like- ” Seokjin snapped his fingers, “- that.”

“Hey, now...” Yoongi soothed the elder boy, who seemed a little agitated. “Remember what you told me when I said I couldn't fuckin’ do lit? You said it was fine if you don't get it straight away. As long as you try.”

“Besides,” he continued, his larger hand still wrapped around Seokjin’s smaller one, pale thumb moving in circles subconsciously against Seokjin’s warm skin. “You’re an actor, aren't you? Then act! Fake that confidence until it becomes real. I know you can do it, so you gotta think that you can too, ok?”

“Ok, Yoongi,” Seokjin promised quietly, thankful for Yoongi's uplifting words.

Mirroring Seokjin’s movements from that first day they met, Yoongi pumped his fist in the air encouragingly. “Jin hyung, hwaiting!” he beamed.

If Yoongi had been looking carefully, then he would have seen the tips of Seokjin’s ears burn a bright red.

---

Reading week was coming up soon, and usual-Yoongi would be psyched, because screw education, vacation was where it’s at.

But Yoongi was on about-to-lose-a-scholarship mode, and the thought of a week’s recess made him hella antsy, because it meant he only had approximately two weeks left to study for the English literature final.

Sure, sure; he’d practically been working non-stop over the past three weeks, under the much-appreciated tutelage of Kim Seokjin; and yeah, he’d made massive progress in the way he wrote his essays, he knew that much.

(He had frantically emailed his professor some sample writing, harassing the old man to read it, until the professor had begrudgingly replied back with a gruff email of approval, confirming that Yoongi had, in fact, made a vast improvement.)

But his confidence wasn't at its peak quite yet - they had a new short story text to study before the exam, and while the length was manageable, it was still uncharted territory for Yoongi.

And despite needing him more than ever, Yoongi couldn't possibly inconvenience Seokjin even more by making him tutor him over the break. Seokjin had been so excited about going back home for the week that Yoongi didn't have it in his heart to ask him to stay on campus just for him.

He was just going to have to make the best of their final session before he left then, Yoongi decided. He walked over to the class as usual, his mind set on concentrating on work and work alone.

But all that flew right out the window when he pushed the door open silently to find Seokjin crawling on the tiled floor. His hair was in a frightful tousled mess on his head, still shielding his eyes, and he was groping around as he crawled; reaching around and sweeping his arms on the floor wildly.

Raising an eyebrow, Yoongi paused in mid-step, unsure of what in the hell his tutor was doing. “Uh, hyung?”

Startled, Seokjin shot his head up towards the direction of the voice. “Oh, Yoongi! Is that you?” he asked, sounding extremely disoriented.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Yoongi snorted. “The hell are you doing on the floor?”

It was amusing to say the least, seeing his hyung flustered on all fours. But something inside him also felt oddly fond, like his heart was fluttering after seeing Seokjin appearing so cute and helpless, looking like a fluffy lump in his ridiculously oversized hoodie.

He just wanted to bundle him up and protect him, an emotion that Yoongi had definitely never felt before in his life - it surprised him so much that he felt the need to physically shake his head to get rid of the thought.

“Ah, I came here early, and I was tired so I took off my glasses to take a nap. But then I accidentally knocked them off the table, and now I can't find them because I can't see!” Seokjin wailed, crumpling down onto his butt and tugging at his hair forlornly.

He lips formed into a deep pout as he whined, and Yoongi felt that weird feeling again. ’I want to touch it…’ a voice whispered in his head, and Yoongi almost yelped at the audacious stray thought. But he brushed it away almost as quickly as it came, not wanting to even know where that came from.

He scanned the floor once, and almost immediately found what he was looking for. Chuckling heartily, he bent down and picked up the pair of round, metal rimmed glasses that were lying just to the left of where Seokjin was sitting, holding them between his fingers.

“Gotcha,” he said softly, squatting down in front of Seokjin and gently sliding them onto Seokjin’s flushed face.

“Thanks Yoongi. You found them so quickly,” Seokjin mumbled, embarrassed that he had been shuffling around on his knees for a good ten minutes and Yoongi had just swooped in and found them in ten seconds. “I’m practically useless without them. My eyesight is really bad.”

But Yoongi only shook his head and laughed. “Somehow, I don't think that’s the problem.”

Without thinking, Yoongi’s shifted closer to Seokjin, until they were face to face. Out of their own accord, his long, slender fingers reached out and gently swept Seokjin's jet black bangs aside.

“Maybe you’d have an easier time if your hair wasn't in the way, Jin hyung-ah…” Yoongi joked, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

But then he opened them, and for the first time ever, he caught a glimpse of what Seokjin’s face truly looked like, and he gasped.

Because Seokjin was one of the most beautiful people he had ever laid his on.

Turns out, those perfect lush lips were just a teaser - and the whole package delivered, all right. It damn well FedEx, UPS, DHL delivered.

Never - never - in a million years would Yoongi have thought that underneath those smooth strands lay the prettiest doe eyes, deep mahogany framed by wispy lashes and dark eyebrows. The widened stare and child-like sparkle in them making him look younger than he really was. The slope of his nose, soft and - urgh, just so, so beautiful.

All his features seemed to melt together perfectly into one coherent picture, and Yoongi couldn't help but be entirely entranced. He kept gazing at him, unable to pull away, until he heard a quiet whimper escape Seokjin’s lips.

Immediately, Yoongi drew back, letting the long hair fall back into place, effectively breaking the spell.

“Wow, hyung, you’re so handsome…” Yoongi whispered in awe, causing Seokjin’s face to turn even more beet red than it had been before. The older boy tried to move away, but Yoongi grabbed his arm, still holding that awestruck expression on his face. “I’m serious! You want to be an actor, right? Then you should definitely get a haircut! I swear, you’d be fit for television, you’d have all the ladies swooning over you!” Yoongi said excitedly, pulling his friend off the floor.

He waited eagerly for Seokjin to reply, but the boy only turned away, as if trying to hide his face from Yoongi.

“Are you ok?” Yoongi asked worriedly. “Was that too weird?”

“N-no… it’s fine. L-let’s start the lesson, Yoongi-ah…” Seokjin said shakily, and Yoongi frowned.

Shit. Did he step out of line? Had he upset him somehow? Was he not supposed to have touched his hair, or seen his face?

All these worries kept plaguing Yoongi’s mind throughout the entire lesson, and he struggled to keep his brain focused on the task. It also didn't help that Seokjin was unusually quiet as well, speaking only to explain something or to answer Yoongi’s questions.

When at the end of the day, Seokjin hurriedly left the classroom with barely an affectionate greeting and a murmured ‘See you after break’, Yoongi sighed and could only hope that he hadn't fucked up too badly.

---

“Fuuuuuuuuck…” Yoongi yawned unglamorously in the hallway outside of the lecture theatre, not giving a damn about who saw him looking ugly with his mouth wide open. He’d used up all of his fucks the week before, poring over his books for hours and hours every day.

The thing was, studying without Seokjin was impossible. It was like Yoongi had regressed or something, and now he was completely reliant on his hyung to even be the slightest bit competent.

It just wasn't the same - Seokjin made everything so easy.

But Yoongi had tried his best, he’d worked diligently with the notes that he had made while he was under Seokjin’s tutelage, and he knew in the back of his mind that no matter how shitty he felt, putting in the slightest bit of effort was ultimately better than doing nothing.

It was the only thought that kept him going, the reason why he had dragged himself to class anyway, coffee cup in his hand, and yawning away.

“Sleepy much?” a familiar voice called out to him, causing him to whip his head around to search for the person he had been missing - no, scratch that, needing to help him study, and nothing else - all week.

But even as he scanned the mass of students lingering in the hall while waiting for the previous lecture to let out, he couldn't find him.

Frowning to himself, he mumbled, “I could have sworn I heard Jin hyung…”

Suddenly, he felt a shy poke in his side, and he jumped. “It was me, pabo-yah.”

Yoongi glanced up confusedly, his brain somehow failing to catch up with the electrical signals that his eyes were sending to his synapses.

Because where was this voice coming from??

And then it clicks, an almost audible ‘ding’ inside Yoongi’s head as his jaw fell open comically on its hinges a second time, and not because he was yawning this time.

“Holy fucking shit!” Yoongi hissed, startling so violently that he felt his coffee slosh in the cup, perilously close to spilling. He only managed to save it at the last second because Seokjin had grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

If this really was Seokjin, that is.

The first thing that popped into Yoongi’s mind was ‘gorgeous’. Really, it was the only word he could use to describe the vision he was seeing before him right now. (Well, that and ‘fuckable’, but that seemed highly inappropriate and Yoongi didn't really want to go there right now.)

In front of him was the Kim Seokjin that he had gotten to know well over the past month, except he had, over the course of one week, become exponentially hotter.

For one, he had swapped out his oversized sweaters for a trim collared shirt. No longer was he being swallowed up by too much material, resulting in a formless blob of a torso; his new shirt was cut perfectly it a way that it fit him nicely at his impossibly broad shoulders, before dipping in to hug comfortably around his waist - ‘my god, he has a waist,’ Yoongi wanted to scream.

He was still wearing jeans - that didn't change - but they were the most sinful pair of distressed jeans Yoongi had ever seen in his life, a massive rip running dangerously close up his right thigh that Yoongi was sure the slightest slip would result in some interesting views. The thought made Yoongi’s neck feel like it was on fire.

The glasses were also gone, clear contacts allowing his natural eyes to shine through.

And yet, in spite of all the changes that Seokjin had made to his image, despite having spent the past eternity simply gaping at his friend, the only thing that Yoongi managed to sputter out was…

“Y-your hair!”

Seokjin's long hair that covered his eyes - his one defining feature, the reason Yoongi hadn't known what his hyung looked up until two Fridays ago - had been chopped off. It was now framing his forehead handsomely, cut and styled to the latest trend.

Blushing, Seokjin’s hand immediately flew up to self-consciously tug at the strands. “Does it look weird?” Seokjin asked nervously, raking his fingers through his hair with a frown.

All that did was make Yoongi jealous, because he wasn't able to do the same.

“Dude, you look amazing,” Yoongi gawked, still somewhat in disbelief, not knowing what to look at; not knowing what to take in. “What happened last week, man? Did you have like a spiritual awakening or something?”

“No,” Seokjin laughed, still actively trying to hide his blush. “I was thinking about everything you said… not just about the hair, but trying to be more confident. I thought I should try and it kind of ended up like this,” he sighed, biting his lip.

“You’re saying I inspired this change?” Yoongi gasped. “No way, it looks so good though!” He shot Seokjin a reassuring thumbs up, making him giggle.

“Thanks,” Seokjin beamed, but then he paused for a second. “There's another thing: there’s going to be an audition for a play this afternoon, and I - I’m thinking of going!”

“You totally should!” Yoongi exclaimed, excited that his apprehensive friend was finally opening himself up to new opportunities and taking steps to pursue his dreams.

But Seokjin was worrying his bottom lip again, and Yoongi raised his eyebrows in question. “But that means I won't be able to tutor you today. Do you mind?”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi just scoffed. “Is that what you were worried about?! Jesus, forget about me, go, go! I don't mind one bit, it’s just one day anyway, I’ll survive,” he smirked.

The lecture hall started to let out, and together, the pair started squeezing last the flood of students who were moving in both directions; some leaving the venue and some, like them, trying to enter.

As they were walking, Yoongi started noticing something that had never happened before. People were actually gaping at Seokjin, pointing and whispering to their friends under their breaths. He even spied some girls whipping out their cell phones and trying to subtly (but not successfully enough) snap photos.

Yoongi realized quickly that this was undoubtedly a result of Seokjin’s sudden makeover, and he glanced over at the taller boy to see if he had felt the change in atmosphere too. But innocent Seokjin seemed completely oblivious, his default neutral expression on his face as he concentrated on getting out of the crowd.

Still, the whole thing with the obvious ogling and not-so-secret photos left an unpleasant sensation in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach, which he tried to ignore once they had both successfully made their way into the lecture theatre.

Spying Namjoon somewhere in the middle rows, where they usually sat, he said goodbye to Seokjin, trying his best to quell whatever weird thing (indigestion?) he was feeling.

But before they parted ways, he turned around one last time. “I’m really proud of you, hyung,” he said sincerely, flashing Seokjin a gummy smile before running up the steps to take his seat beside Namjoon.

“‘Sup Yoongi,” Namjoon greeted him with their usual bro-shake. “Who was that hot guy you came in here with?”

“Huh? You mean Seokjin hyung?” Yoongi answered impassively, crashing down into his seat with a ‘flump’.

“No fucking way, that’s not Kim Seokjin,” Namjoon said incredulously. “Isn't he supposed to be a real nerd or something?”

“Oh, like you're one to talk,” Yoongi scoffed, taking out his notebook for some crammed revision before class started. “You’re the biggest nerd there ever lived.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Namjoon chuckled, leaning into his seat and grinning smugly.

“Say, Mr. IQ of 148,” Yoongi piped up, realizing that since he wouldn't be able to bother Seokjin with his literature questions today, he may as well ask his genius of a best friend instead.

“Can you explain Jungian theory to me? Jin hyung can’t tutor me today and I really need help understanding the theme,” he sighed, dropping his text in front of Namjoon so that he could have a look.

“Ooh, psychology!” Namjoon grinned and rubbed his palms together. “My second favourite topic to analyse!”

“What's the first?” Yoongi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Philosophy.”

“Ugh. Nerd.”

“Brat.”

“Fuck off. Teach me,” Yoongi glared.

“Fine,” Namjoon rolled his eyes. “It’s easy. First, you have to understand Jung’s proposal of a self-regulating psyche. Essentially, what he believes is that the psyche is made out of tensions between opposing attitudes of the unconscious and the ego. But what is an ego, one may ask? What is the function of an ego? You see, Yoongi, the ego is…”

Yoongi sighed. He’s never asking Namjoon another question again.

He should have seen this coming. Namjoon went on with a long-winded speech about something or the other, but if he was being honest with himself, Yoongi lost him the moment he said ‘self-regulating psyche’. The problem with Namjoon was that he tended to take a very roundabout philosophical approach to understanding things, while Yoongi was more a straight-facts kind of guy.

Their learning styles were so different, and even though whatever Namjoon did worked for him, it was not helping Yoongi out one bit.

But he still felt bad asking Namjoon to stop, not when he was the one who had asked for help in the first place. So he just pretended to nod in comprehension until the professor announced the start of the lesson, and Yoongi thanked god that he didn't have to listen to Namjoon saying the word ‘ego’ again.

He’ll keep his questions for Seokjin, thank you very much.

---

The following day saw a very bubbly Seokjin, who was in an especially good mood because his audition had gone well and the casting director had requested a callback.

He was wearing a turtleneck today, having explained to Yoongi that the reason he wore large clothes was because nothing that fit his torso could ever fit his wide as fuck shoulders.

He was also back in glasses again, having claimed the contacts dried out his eyes and he missed having something - anything - covering his face.

But they did nothing to revert Seokjin back to what he looked like a week ago. In fact, all these things achieved was make him look like a regal modern prince, Yoongi lamented.

But he didn't have time to gawk or thirst over his own friend today; finals were on Friday and he needed to really crack down.

Unfortunately for both of them, Seokjin’s overnight popularity meant that what used to be their private study room was suddenly swarming with girls who were trying to get him to ‘tutor’ them as well.

Seokjin had showed up sheepishly in front of the door that afternoon, apologies spilling out from his lips as he explained how he ‘couldn't shake them’ and ‘they told me they needed help with literature too’.

Not going to lie, the sight of so many girls hanging off Seokjin’s arms made a nerve in Yoongi’s jaw tic with irritation. But Seokjin was once again looking completely helpless, and Yoongi gruffly allowed the girls to stay, so long as they actually studied.

Fifteen minutes in, and Yoongi already knew that wasn't going to happen. They kept on whispering loudly, giggling over stuff that Yoongi couldn't give two shits about. He could even hear the shrill, tinny sounds of their music leaking out of their cheapass (Yoongi would know) earbuds.

Worst of all, they kept fawning over Seokjin, making up the flimsy excuses to feel his sweater, or touch his hair, or try on his glasses, and it was distracting Seokjin from the only thing he should have been focusing on:

‘Me,’ Yoongi thought bitterly.

When one of the girls had the nerve to shamelessly ask Seokjin if his lips felt as soft as they looked, Yoongi finally snapped.

“That’s it! All of you, get the fuck out!!” Yoongi demanded, slamming his hands on the table as he pushed himself out of his chair, startling everybody in the room, including Seokjin.

“What’s with you, Yoongi oppa? You’re so scary,” the girls muttered, but Yoongi only glared at them some more, causing them to whimper in fear.

“Listen, you lil shits, my final is on Friday, which means I only have four fucking days to study and get an A+ so that I can keep my music scholarship, ok?! Got that? Good. Now leave,” Yoongi hissed, pointing angrily at the door.

But to his dismay, the group of girls remained fiercely unmoving, only rolling their eyes at him.

“That’s not our problem, you should have studied harder before then,” they said, causing Yoongi to feel a pang of hurt in his chest. He had studied. He’d been studying so hard. But it just wasn't good enough.

He needed Seokjin’s help. He couldn't do this alone.

But the girls refused to stop, continuously taunting him and making him feel bad about being there instead of them. “You can’t kick us out, this is a university classroom; we have every right to be here as you. Besides, you can’t hog Seokjinnie oppa, he’s not your slave or anything. He’s just too nice to say no to you, right, oppa?” they said.

“That’s not true, I -” Seokjin started to say, but by this point, Yoongi was completely and thoroughly pissed off.

In a flurry of heat, he shoved all of his study materials into his backpack and stomped out of the study room, slamming the door behind him in the process.

Fine. He was just going to have to do things himself.

---

The following afternoon, Yoongi didn't bother going back to their usual study room, thinking that it would be pointless if it was just going to be a repeat of yesterday. He didn't want to get himself all worked up before studying, because that would only ruin his concentration.

Instead, he found himself a quiet table at the library and he made himself comfortable. He placed his phone face down on the table, buckling down for a solo study session without any external distractions or additional assistance from Kim Seokjin. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was sure as hell going to try.

He’d been struggling for two hours, when he heard someone whisper out his name sharply.

“Yoongi-ah!” the voice came, and Yoongi raised his head to find himself facing a sweaty Seokjin, breathing heavily underneath his pastel pink hoodie.

His face was flushed, like he had just been running laps, and his dark hair was sticking to his forehead a little - Yoongi thought he looked impossibly cute. But he was still a little annoyed with Seokjin, so he bit his tongue and said nothing, only raising his eyebrows.

“I found you,” Seokjin panted. Pointing to the free seat across from Yoongi, Seokjin asked, “May I sit down?”

Yoongi let out a noncommittal grunt, which Seokjin took as a yes, before collapsing in a heap into the seat, chest rising and falling heavily.

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“I’ve been running around campus looking for you everywhere!” Seokjin replied, shooting Yoongi a look like it was supposed to be obvious.

“Why?” Yoongi grumbled.

“Because it’s our study time, why do you think? You didn't show up in the class and you weren't answering my texts, so I thought you might be mad at me or something... Are you mad at me?” Seokjin pouted. His wide, innocent eyes looked up at Yoongi through his long lashes, and before he realized it, Yoongi had melted.

“I’m not mad at you,” he sighed, running his hand over his face in frustration. “It wasn't your fault, those girls were being really disruptive and I lost my temper.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn't have brought them there,” Seokjin mumbled apologetically. “I was just overwhelmed. So many people suddenly tried to talk to me, I didn't know what to do. But I’m here today and I will be there tomorrow, just the two of us like usual. We can do this, right Yoongi?” he smiled sweetly, eyes disappearing into crescents with little wrinkles around them, and Yoongi turned into an even more of a melty warm mess than before.

“We sure can,” he smiled back, his heart suddenly beating too fast, even though Seokjin was the one who had been doing all the exercise.

That weird sensation he had been feeling inside his chest had finally fully bloomed, along with the realization of what the feeling was to begin with. At that moment, Min Yoongi knew he was thoroughly fucked.

---

A cup of coffee in his hand as usual, Yoongi let himself have a moment’s reprieve over a light breakfast in the beautiful university courtyard, where the spring flowers had just begun to sprout.

The revelation he had had yesterday - he’d swept it aside for now, keeping it on the back burner until he had the time to fully internalize it. Because today was the last day before the final, and Yoongi did not need unnecessary internal conflict to pull his focus away from the task at hand.

However, it seemed like internal conflict enjoyed pushing itself to him, because one minute, he was breathing in the fresh spring air, and the next, he was sputtering and choking on his coffee because who else could it be walking into his line of sight, but the very object of his affections?

Yoongi noticed Seokjin right away, but Seokjin didn’t notice Yoongi, his attention currently occupied by a pretty girl who Yoongi recognized from literature class.

He didn't want to be a creep or anything, but he couldn't help but silently tune into their conversation, watching achingly as the pair walked awfully close to each other, the amount of sweet looks between them enough to give Yoongi a toothache.

Seokjin was blushing, Yoongi noted sadly, and he could see his ears burning from here.

It broke Yoongi’s heart to think about it… but could Seokjin possibly have a crush on the girl? It sure looked like it, judging by the shy smiles and fleeting glances.

Ahh... Yoongi should have known better...

“Oh, oppa, I’ve been meaning to ask you! Have you watched that play at the theatre? The one with the really good reviews?” he heard the girl asked shyly.

“The one about the sick old man? Not yet,” Seokjin shook his head.

“Well, I heard you liked plays, and it’s their last day this evening. Do you want to go watch it together?” she asked hopefully, round eyes pleading.

But Yoongi watched as Seokjin hesitated, biting his lip the way he had done countless of times before in Yoongi’s presence. “Actually, I have to tutor my friend today, I’m sorry -”

“No you don’t!” Yoongi blurted out before he could even pause to think. Startled, both Seokjin and the girl turned to see who had interrupted their conversation.

“Oh, Yoongi!” Seokjin exclaimed in surprise. “I didn't even see you there, good morning!”

“Morning, hyung. Sorry for eavesdropping,” Yoongi replied lamely, suddenly feeling like he was about to regret everything he was about to say. “Um yeah, you should go with her,” Yoongi said quickly, before he could change his mind.

“Are you sure? The final is tomorrow, this is really the only time we have…” Seokjin worried, his lips slipping into a frown.

But Yoongi waved it off, swallowing his own bitterness and disappointment because he couldn't bear to have Seokjin make any more sacrifices for him - the man himself certainly did not need to use the time study, already having everything covered.

And from what Yoongi saw, Seokjin liked this girl; and Yoongi didn't want to be the reason for Seokjin giving up his social life and chance at making new friends (or more), all because Yoongi made him stay cooped up in a room doing something that didn't benefit him anyway.

“I’m sure,” Yoongi confirmed. “I’m not important anyway.”

“What do you mean ‘not important’?” Seokjin’s frown deepened. He started to step towards Yoongi, but Yoongi took a step back and laughed emptily.

“I mean, you have other important things in your life to do! And you’ve already taught me so much, I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own!” he grinned.

But Seokjin still looked unconvinced, a whole month of spending so much time with Yoongi having trained him to sense when Yoongi wasn't quite telling the truth.

Yoongi wasn't taking no for an answer, though.

Bowing deeply, with a certain sense of finality about it, Yoongi expressed his gratitude for Seokjin.

“Thank you for all your help until now.”

Straightening up again, he flashed a last gummy smile before turning his back and walking away, leaving behind the girl with a stunned Seokjin by her side.

---

“I’m an idiot,” Yoongi moaned, smashing his head onto the table. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.”

What had he been thinking? What the actual fuck had he been thinking?!

Letting Seokjin go like that, when Yoongi so obvious not going to be fine on his own! He’d forgotten exactly how much time they had wasted over the past two weeks, the hours of actual tutelage not amounting to much at all, what with reading week, and Seokjin’s audition, and those pesky girls…

And now his own damn ego (he couldn't say this word without thinking of Namjoon now) being a complete dick to his education.

His literature text wasn’t fully annotated yet, because Seokjin had not had the time to go through the whole thing with him. They were supposed to do it today, but those plans were certainly cancelled, and Yoongi had nobody to blame but himself.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sighed, wrenching his eyes shut in frustration.

“I’m sorry, I didn't know you felt that way about me,” a voice chuckled, and Yoongi bolted upright, his eyes locking onto the majestic creature that came with his own chorus of angelic singing (inside Yoongi’s head, that is) standing before him.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered, feeling like he had just had the wind knocked out of his lungs the moment he laid his eyes on him. “Aren't you supposed to go watch the play?”

“Couldn't leave my little Yoongi to suffer alone, now could I?” Seokjin smirked, and Yoongi wondered where the shy, blushing boy he had met a month ago had disappeared to, because right now, he was the one making Yoongi turn red.

Setting down a copy of their literature text and a bento box onto the table, he took his seat in the usual spot. “This is my spare copy, I don't know if you’ll need it or not but I’m going to leave it with you, just in case. You might wanna flip through. And here’s some dinner - I know you get hyper focused when you study and I didn't want you starving and feeling poorly the next day before the test, so please eat it later. I hope it’s good, I cooked it myself!”

Yoongi was going to cry. Seriously, he was going to cry if Seokjin didn't stop doing things for him like this. He was just so grateful to have Seokjin by his side. When he had asked Seokjin to be his tutor, he had never expected Seokjin to become so important to him like this.

“How much do angels charge for postage?” Yoongi asked suddenly, unable to control his mouth. Seokjin gave him a perplexed look, and Yoongi knew he had to follow through with whatever nonsense his brain was preparing to spew.

“Because you were heaven-sent,” he finished lamely, cringing at his own terrible joke. He had wanted to thank Seokjin, so how did that end up coming out of his mouth instead?! God, just kill him now.

But Seokjin was evidently a fan of smite-worthy humour, because the boy burst out into peals of delighted laughter.

“Aww, Yoongi,” he sniffled, wiping away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. “That’s sweet.”

They had just about collected themselves, ready to start the serious stuff, when the door of the classroom swung open once more, to Yoongi’s chagrin.

“Seokjin oppa, I thought you might be in here!” the girl from that morning beamed, walking over to wrap an arm over Seokjin’s shoulder. “You disappeared on me! Come on, if we hurry, we can still get tickets at the box office!”

“Ah but Yoongi -”

“Ahhh, Yoongi oppa said it was ok before… Yoongi oppa, you can study by yourself, right?” the girl whined.

Feeling as if he had no choice - not like he could go back on what he said in the morning anyway - Yoongi reluctantly agreed. “Uh, sure, go ahead.”

“Yoongi…” Seokjin sighed, but allowed himself to be pulled out of his seat by the girl anyway.

“Thanks oppa! Good luck for the test,” wished the girl, tugging Seokjin along with her by the arm, making Yoongi want to kick himself.

“Have fun...” Yoongi called out miserably, watching their backs disappear behind the door.

Then he was alone again. Right back where he started.

Fucking idiot.

Why’d he have to be so benevolent? Why couldn't he let himself be selfish for one day? Why did he ever tell Seokjin to cut his hair?? That had been the catalyst for all of this. None of this would have happened if Seokjin hadn't gone and listened to him.

Now he had to study alone again, and he didn't know how to do shit! Remembering Seokjin’s copy of the text, Yoongi made a grab for it, hoping with all his heart that Seokjin had at least made some notations on it that would help him a little more than the absolute nothing that his book had.

“Huh…?” he inhaled sharply, flipping through the pages.

He had not been expecting this. Suddenly, the urge to cry came bubbling up again, and it took all he had not to actually burst out into grateful tears.

Seokjin had left him a copy of the short story that was being examined, with a line-by-line analysis of the text and sticky notes containing a handwritten study guide, highlighting all the areas that Yoongi had been worried about.

It must have taken a long time to do this, Yoongi realised, running his thumb over the precious paper. Even with everything, Seokjin hadn't forgotten him.

His heart swelled even more when the sun had long since set, and his stomach had been growling for a while, and Yoongi carefully opened up the bento box that Seokjin had left for him.

It was cold by now, but everything about it left Yoongi with a tingling warmth that made Yoongi even more determined to do well, if not for the sole reason of not wanting to waste Seokjin’s efforts.

In the box was Seokjin’s homemade omurice, smelling every bit as delicious as it looked. And written in ketchup were two words:

‘YOONGI HWAITING!! <3’

Yoongi snapped a photo before eating it.

Also, he definitely cried.

---

The next day, he sat for the final. Yoongi was dreadfully nervous, but Seokjin had seen him before class (and awkwardly laughed his way through the bone-crushing hug that Yoongi couldn't help but give him) and just his presence and hearing his buttery voice had calmed Yoongi down a lot.

Plus, he had Seokjin’s annotated text with him to bring into the exam hall, which he held onto like a lifeline, so that made him feel a lot better.

He left the exam feeling good - he felt like he had managed to tackle all of the questions properly. Now, all that was left was to wait for the results to know if his efforts had finally paid off or not.

Unfortunately, those weeks he would have to wait would not be spent by Seokjin's side. Not because of anything bad; in fact, it was amazing news. Seokjin had informed him after the final that he had been casted in the lead role of the play that he auditioned for, and Yoongi couldn't have been more proud.

But that also meant that all of Seokjin’s free time was spent at rehearsals, and they barely, if ever, saw each other. Yoongi missed him terribly, but Seokjin was finally getting to act for real, one step closer to achieving his dreams, so Yoongi couldn't do anything but give him his complete support.

In the meantime, he and Namjoon had continued to work on their music, Yoongi drowning himself in it even more than usual to distract from the growing realization that he would never be able to act upon his feelings for Seokjin.

When the day of the results release finally arrived, Yoongi had frantically logged onto the university portal, heart pounding away in his chest. Clicking the button apprehensively, he felt his breath hitch in his throat, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes anxiously before he could even see the grade.

“Wow, congrats, dude, you actually did it!” he heard Namjoon say first, and he almost felt like he couldn't believe it. Eyes fluttering open, he looked at the screen and gasped.

An electronic ‘A+’ glowed on the screen.

“I actually did it,” he whispered in disbelief. “Namjoon, I actually fucking did it!”

“Congratulations, you’ve finally elevated yourself up to my level,” Namjoon fake-sniffled, and Yoongi shoved him hard, too happy to care if he hurt his best friend or not (Joonie deserved it).

“You asshole,” he grinned as Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and glared at him. Just as they were childishly roughhousing each other in the studio, Yoongi’s phone started ringing, and he rushed over to it to pick up the call.

“Yoongi-ah? How was it?” Seokjin’s concerned voice filtered through, and Yoongi’s stomach did somersaults upon hearing it.

“Fantastic, hyung,” Yoongi couldn't contain his wide grin. “I got an A+! We did it!”

He heard Seokjin heave a huge sigh of relief, causing him to let out an amused chuckle. “No, you did it, Yoongi. It was your effort that got you here.”

“Are you kidding me? Hyung, I couldn't have done it without you, you know that…” Yoongi said quietly, the tone of his voice growing low and serious. “You’ve helped me out so much, I get to keep my scholarship because of you. I can't begin to thank you enough.”

“You don't have to. You don't know how much you’ve helped me either. If it wasn't for you, I would never have been brave enough to put myself out there. And now everything’s changed because of you,” Seokjin whispered.

“You’ve always had in you, hyung.”

“So have you.”

“Hyung…”

“I’m proud of you, Yoongi-ah! I hope you know that! I gotta go now, see you at my opening night, yeah?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

When the phone call finally ended, and Yoongi finally put his phone down on the table with a disgustingly mushy fond smile on his face that he couldn't suppress even if he tried, Namjoon looked at him knowingly and said, “Ooh boy, you’ve got it bad.”

Yoongi grumbled but he didn't disagree.

---

Seokjin’s popularity in school skyrocketed after his debut in the play as a Joseon prince was met with glowing reviews. Photos and sneakily taken videos of Seokjin performing had been circulating amongst the university students; partially because they were in awe of his talent, partially because people had discovered how ridiculously god-tier handsome Seokjin looked in a hanbok.

Nobody had ever suspected that the once-painfully shy kid with the long hair hiding half his face actually possessed some solid acting chops.

In fact, most people didn't know that Seokjin used to be that boy at all. They only cared about him after he had switched up his image, making the people (person) who had cared about him before all of that a little (a lot) jealous.

Yoongi was quickly getting tired of being followed around campus by random girls who somehow knew that he and Seokjin were friends, always buzzing around him like annoying flies - except these ones could talk, and all they ever seemed to say was ‘Where is Seokjin oppa?’

After an exhausting day of working on his music, Yoongi just wanted to hear nothing for a while. He decided to head over to the study room that Seokjin used to teach him in - for old time’s sake - to seek refuge, hoping that nobody would be there to bother him and he could get peace at long last.

But just as he got turned the corner into the hallway leading to the classroom, he was once again boxed in by a group of girls insisting he reveal Seokjin's whereabouts so they could kidnap him or whatever the fuck - Yoongi honestly doesn't even know what they would do with the information. Demand selfies?

Having moved past being simply bothered to downright incensed, Yoongi sucked in a sharp breath and did what anybody would do in this situation.

He yelled.

“I don't fucking know where Kim Seokjin is, quit following me around and leave me alone!” he growled, causing the girls to instantly scatter and scamper away in fear.

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He was starting to get a reputation for being a ‘scary oppa’, but it wasn't his fault if he was being constantly harassed.

In a grouchier mood than before, he continued making his was down the now-deserted hallway, the relief growing within him as he stepped closer to the study room.

He was standing right in front of it, about to enter, when the door suddenly flew open and Yoongi felt his arm being forcefully yanked. He toppled over headfirst into the study room, managing to steady himself right before he fell. The door clicked shut hurriedly behind him.

“Oh, thank god, I've been hiding here for hours, I thought I was never going to lose them,” Seokjin sighed in relief, walking past Yoongi to push a chair against the door for additional reinforcement. “Sorry for dragging you in like that. Hi Yoongi,” he finally breathed, the order of conversation completely backwards.

Rubbing his arms sulkily, Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Seokjin, a little annoyed at the man, even though none of this had been his fault to begin with.

“You know, I’m starting to regret saying all that stuff about you cutting your hair and achieving your dreams,” Yoongi grumbled.

He was half-joking, of course, but judging by the way Seokjin’s eyes began to well up, he sure didn't seem to take it that way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for all of this to happen...” Seokjin sniffled, sending Yoongi into immediate panic.

“Whoa, wait, stop, please. Please don't cry, I’m not good with crying,” Yoongi rambled, quickly reaching out to gently brush away the beginnings of tears from Seokjin’s lashes. “I was only kidding, of course I don't regret it! I’m so happy for you, Jin hyung. You’ve gained so much courage, you’re pursuing your passion… So of course I don't regret it one bit!” he said, trying his best to maintain a smile, even if he didn't quite feel like it right now.

But Seokjin kept looking at him with those dark brown eyes, and a quivering lip, and Yoongi didn't know what else he could say to console him.

“You don't look very happy for me…” Seokjin finally whispered, pulling his gaze away.

The smile on Yoongi’s face faltered even more, and he finally gave up, letting it fall completely into a sad line.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I want to be, believe me. But I can't,” Yoongi admitted shakily at last. They were too close, so close that he could feel Seokjin’s breathing against his skin, and the wispy warmth of it made him shudder and want to pull himself closer and push himself back at the same time.

He wondered if Seokjin could hear his heart pounding, because the throbbing pulse in his ears felt unbearably loud right now. It would give him away at once.

Not that it mattered; it wasn't going to after what he was about to say.

Taking one final risk, Yoongi enveloped Seokjin’s hands in his and held on to them tightly. “I’m sorry, but I’m really selfish, Jin hyung. I can't be completely happy for you now because all I want is for things to go back to how it was. When nobody else knew who you were, and it was just the two of us in this room, eating snacks together,” Yoongi laughed bitterly. “I’m so selfish, right?”

“Yoongi…” Seokjin sighed, but Yoongi wasn't finished yet.

“I want to ask more from you, but I can't. You’ve already done so much. I can’t tell you to do something else for me,” he said, hanging his head despondently.

They stood together in complete silence for what seemed like forever, until Seokjin broke the silence.

“Yoongi-ah… you said you wanted to return the favour right?” Seokjin asked suddenly.

Yoongi blinked. “Oh. Of - of course! Anything!”

“Right..." Seokjin whispered slowly. “Then can you do me a favour… and stay with me?”

He drew Yoongi’s chin up with his fingers so that they were almost forehead to forehead, nose to nose, watching amusedly as Yoongi’s soft lips parted in bewilderment.

“Stay… with... you?” Yoongi repeated slowly, as if failing to comprehend the words.

“Yeah."

“And do what, exactly? Analyze more literature...?” Yoongi asked, confused, causing Seokjin to roll his eyes in mock disgruntlement.

“...Well, it seems you still need help understanding pragmatics, so yeah, maybe,” Seokjin groaned, ready to pull himself away, if not for the fact that Yoongi’s hands were now snaked around his waist, pressing him close.

“Help me then,” Yoongi whispered lowly, leaning into Seokjin’s ear and making his spine shiver. “Teach me. Line by line.”

“Which line?” Seokjin gulped.

“‘Stay with me.’ What does that mean?”

“It means I want you by my side always, Yoongi...” Seokjin laughed, pulling his head back to look at Yoongi properly.

“Why? Explain.” Yoongi looked at him suspiciously.

“Because I like you,” Seokjin answered incredulously.

“You… like… me?” Yoongi repeated again.

“I like you very much, yes,” Seokjin confirmed.

“Support with evidence.”

“What?” Seokjin scoffed. “Are you serious right now, Min Yoongi?”

“Dead serious. Now support your argument with evidence,” Yoongi insisted.

Seokjin rolled his eyes once again. “You’re so ridiculous, how the fuck do you want me to -”

He never got to complete the thought, because the next thing he knew, Yoongi had snatched off his glasses from his face and pulled him into a long, searing kiss.

Yoongi felt Seokjin smile into the kiss, and the sensation of his lips stretching wider against his made his heart sing a million ecstatic songs. Their lips fit perfectly against each other's of course, just the way he had (secretly) imagined they would.

He hooked Seokjin’s glasses onto the collar of his t-shirt, freeing up his hands to smooth up Seokjin’s broad chest and wrap around his neck. His fingers grazing the hair on the back of Seokjin’s head as Seokjin lovingly nibbled Yoongi’s lower lip, drawing a cute laugh from Yoongi.

“Ok, top student, you’ve made a solid argument” Yoongi grinned when they finally managed to pull away from each other. He sent his trademark gummy smile Seokjin's way, tracing the older boy's face with the softest touch, before finally pushing his bangs away from his eyes. “I like you too.”

Seokjin couldn't resist pecking him on the lips once more when Yoongi couldn't stop gazing into his eyes fondly. “What is it?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Yoongi chuckled, casually sweeping through Seokjin's hair to his heart’s content, now that he was allowed to. “It's just… for the longest time, I wondered what your eyes looked like. And to think I’m seeing them up close like this… god, you're beautiful. I mean, I've always thought that anyway, it's not like anything’s changed, really.”

“You always thought I was cute?” Seokjin gasped. “Even before the haircut?”

“Yeah.”

“How could you tell?” Seokjin asked with a tinkling laugh, tugging Yoongi by the waist so they were flush against each other again.

Yoongi grinned.

“Because you taught me how to read the subtext.”