Chapter Text
The exact moment that you fell in love with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.
“Here,” he had said to you that day, “listen to this.”
He handed you a pair of beat-up headphones and you placed them over your ears. You hadn’t known what to expect, because honestly, the headphones were extremely uncomfortable, but what you heard next surprised you. It was a song—he wanted you to hear a song he composed. And the best thing of all was that he sang, even though you knew he hated singing. Yoongi handed you his notebook that day too; and as you read his lyrics and listened to his song, you knew you were done for.
Most people fall in love because they know they’ll be loved back. You fell in love with a boy who was in love with music, and you weren’t sure if he was capable of loving you the same way. This thought should’ve caused you to move away from him; but, if anything, it just drew you closer.
The year Yoongi played his first song to you, you were sixteen and already hopelessly in love.
Even though you were positive that the feelings inside of you were true, you never told him how you felt. At least, not until it suddenly spilled out of you. By this point, you were nineteen and still had everything bottled up inside of you. Yoongi was still a good friend to you and invited you over to his place to listen to more of his demos. This little listening session turned into sharing a few drinks.
And blame it on the alcohol; you don’t know why, but you suddenly said the three little words: I love you. The reality of your words didn’t hit you until moments later, and your eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. Yoongi stopped moving and looked at you with scrunched brows. What came next was what you had expected all along, but it still made you shatter into a million pieces.
“I’m sorry, y/n, but I don’t feel the same way.”
He had tried to explain that he did love you, but not in a romantic way. He saw you as a little sister, which had perhaps stung more than simply saying he didn’t like you. You went home that night and cried. And although his rejection stung, you learned to deal. You just pretended like the confession didn’t happen and, thankfully, Yoongi never brought it up again.
After the events of that night, you never drank so much around Yoongi again; alcohol clearly made you a little too honest, and you didn’t want to risk acting like a lovesick fool.
It would have made sense if you let the boy go after sister-zoning you, but you were such an idiot—you still loved him endlessly and you couldn’t just stop. Min Yoongi was like a drug that you couldn’t stop using. Everything about him was intoxicating. His passion for music was out of this world and, although he often had a cold exterior, you knew deep inside that he was soft as could be.
The year you turned twenty-one, your friendship seemed like it was fine; the same as it had always been. But you knew something was different when Yoongi stopped calling you over to listen to his new music. You didn’t know what you did wrong, or if you had done anything wrong at all. Yoongi was known to go into weird funks, so you didn’t question anything. Then, a whole month went by. That’s when you started getting worried. It was a Friday, after work, that you decided to pay him a visit. You swung by his apartment, using the spare under the mat, but no one was home. Hope was nearly lost, until you remembered that he was sharing a studio with someone.
When Yoongi told you that Namjoon had given him the opportunity to use a room in the studio, you were happy because it was a definite upgrade from the desk in his bedroom. You had met the guy a few times before, but he was always holed away in that studio. You guessed that Yoongi was there too; where else could he be? Since you had been to the studio once or twice, you had a general idea of where it was.
The studio was only a few blocks from the apartment so you made it there in only a few minutes. It was actually the basement of a small ramen place, and you always wondered if the couple who owned the place got annoyed with all the noise. But they were all smiles when they saw you and didn’t even look twice as you climbed down the stairs.
You pushed the door of the little studio open and immediately, you were greeted with Namjoon. He sat on the couch by the little window, a cigarette pulled to his lips. When he noticed your presence he stood up, discarding the narcotic. He stared at you with wide eyes, surprise marred across his features. Now that you think about it, you were quite rude that night; you completely ignored the poor guy and marched straight to the room you knew belonged to Yoongi.
Namjoon called your name, attempting to stop you. And now, you wished he would have.
You pushed the door of Yoongi’s room open, walking right in. Your lips had started to part, in hopes of speaking your mind, but the picture in front of you completely stopped you. All of the extra pairs of eyes in the room turned to you, but the only one you sought out didn’t even spare you a single glance.
“Y/n,” Yoongi said your name, finally acknowledging your presence.
“Wha—What’s going on here?” you asked, frozen in your spot.
A man in front of Yoongi stood up and suddenly extended his hand, “It has been my pleasure, Yoongi.”
“Mine as well; see you in Seoul.”
That was when everything made sense.
Yoongi had been avoiding you that entire month because he was making personal arrangements concerning his musical career. A part of you had been furious; why didn’t he say anything? Why did he have to stop talking to you for a month? Another part of you had been ecstatic for him; he was going to make it big, and you couldn’t be prouder. But despite all these mixed feelings, there was something larger weighing down on your shoulders—a part of you was scared. If Yoongi went to Seoul, you were going to lose him.
As the men finished congratulating him, they walked out and left you there alone to stare at him; you didn’t really know what to say. Should you congratulate him? Should you just leave?
“Were you never going to tell me?” was the only thing you mustered up.
His eyes rolled once before lazily meeting yours, “You’re my friend, y/n.”
“And?”
“Of course I would’ve told you.”
Your eyes move down to stare at the floor, “I doubt it.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he suddenly asked, and your body flushed in anger.
“What the hell is wrong with me? More like what the hell is wrong with you, Min Yoongi,” you said to him. “You claim that I’m your friend, yet you ignore me for an entire month. I thought that maybe you were just in a little music funk, but no—you were actually planning your career and didn’t even bother to tell me.”
“Is it so bad that I want to pursue music?”
You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s not; I’m actually really happy for you. But you don’t seem to get it—you didn’t tell me. If I hadn’t shown up today, I probably would’ve never known.”
“I said that I would’ve told you,” he argued. No, he wouldn’t have.
No longer knowing what to say, you backed out of the room and ran out of the studio. You rushed past Namjoon, past the ramen couple, and felt slightly bad for not saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stand looking at Min Yoongi anymore. You ran all the way home and didn’t stop until your body landed in the sheets of your bed.
That night, you cried again—he was always making you cry. You mostly cried because the truth, which you tried to suppress, was coming back to bite. Yoongi was never going to be capable of loving you as much as his music, and it hurt more at this moment than ever before.
You wondered for many years why your heart chose to beat for Min Yoongi. Why him of all people? Fate seemed cruel that way. Many times you wished to go back to how things were before he stepped in your life. But then you remembered that your life was rather dull without him. Even though Yoongi caused you a lot of pain, his presence was important.
Sure, he was cold and calculating, and he always got too consumed in his work, but behind it all, he was just a boy who loved music.
The next morning, you went back to the studio. Yoongi was already there, like you had predicted, and looked surprised to see you. In fact, it looked like he hadn’t even left the place—he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. The air had felt awkward, but you pushed past it and pulled your hands from behind your back, “Here.”
You handed him an iced Americano, and a few moments later he actually smiled. A relieved sigh left your mouth as he took the drink from your hands and began to sip it.
“What’s this for?”
“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting on your feet. “I overreacted and it’s not my place to question you. It’s your life, you should be able to do whatever you want.”
Yoongi looked in your eyes, “I’m sorry too. You were right, I probably wouldn’t have said anything—but that’s just how I am. I’ve always kept to myself, but you really are my friend and I also respect your opinion.”
Taking in his words, you nod once, still not able to look him in the eyes.
“So…when do you leave for Seoul?”
“Next month.” His answer was short and sweet, but the impact it has on you would’ve said otherwise.
“Really?” your voice sounded small. “So soon?”
He sighed, “It would’ve been sooner, but I told them I had some unfinished business here.”
You suddenly looked up and met his eyes, “What? Me?”
“I told you that you’re my friend; my only friend.”
“What about Namjoon?” you asked.
“Namjoon and I? We’re more like music colleagues; dudes who just do music together,” Yoongi said and you couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve been through a lot, y/n—you’ve been through a lot with me. I’m grateful for that.”
There it was—there was the Min Yoongi you fell for. You yearned so much for him in that moment. You didn’t want him to leave; you didn’t want to lose him. But instead of verbalizing all of that, you merely smiled and showed him everything otherwise.
“I guess we’re going to have to make this month count, huh?”
Over the course of the next month, you proceeded to show him everything he would miss about your small town. You would say to him, I bet you Seoul doesn’t have this…even though you were sure Seoul would have something much better and greater. But the one thing Seoul would lack was you; and even though Yoongi mentioned numerous times how important you were to him, you just didn’t know how much.
Like all things in life, the day of his departure came and it was time to face reality. You walked him to the train station with heaviness weighing over you.
“Well…I guess this is it,” he said, looking down at you.
You looked into his eyes and felt the tears that threatened to overspill, “I guess so.”
And without much of a warning, he suddenly pulled you into a hug and the tears sprang free. You had tried to keep the tears at bay, but you just couldn’t help it. You clung onto him like your life depended on it; your hands fisted into his jacket, your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.
“I’ll come back and visit, yeah?” he chuckled a bit to relieve the situation.
“You better, Min Yoongi,” you could barely muster up the words. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
You knew that you couldn’t hold onto him forever; you had to let go eventually. And you did, watching him step onto the train. The tears still fell down your face and your chest wouldn’t stop heaving. You saw him take a seat by the window and waved to him. He did the same, waving until the train departed the station and left your line of sight.
Once he was gone, your chest hurt—like there were a million fragmented pieces that couldn’t be mended together anymore.
The exact moment you experienced heartbreak with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.
***
He never did keep his promise.
You waited month after month for a visit, but a visit never came. You also waited for a phone call or message—one of those never came either. Even though you knew Yoongi had forgotten all about you already, there was still a smidge of hope in you and you didn’t know why.
The hope that you had for Yoongi to contact you contrasted deeply with how you actually felt about him; you still felt the same as the day he left—completely broken.
For a while, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You were a shell of the person you once were. You were in love with the guy, and he just up and left. It was honestly kind of sad how dependent you were on him, especially since to him you were just a friend.
You just missed him so much, so much that you found a job at a music store just to feel a little bit closer to him. It was pathetic, really; every day you were surrounded by music that he loved and if anything, it just made you miss him even more. Missing Yoongi and working at the store soon proved to be a bad combination.
Working in a music store meant you had to deal with masses of people whenever a new album dropped. At first, you really didn’t mind the masses; they kept you well occupied and mind off your problems. Being busy was a great distraction, at least until roughly about a year after Yoongi left for Seoul.
Your work day started off as any other day would; you clocked in, restocked the current music racks, and checked the new inventory. It was all fine and well until you checked to see who the album belonged to. It was a name you weren’t familiar with, but when you looked at the cover art you stopped breathing for a second. Shock racks its way through your body and the album nearly slips from your hand.
“Oh my god,” you whisper and run the computer.
Typing away at the keys, you search every article concerning the name and album. Soon enough, you pull up an article speaking about the new artist and nearly die on the spot. The new artist was Min Yoongi himself, now going by the stage name Suga.
You stare at the computer screen, at a loss for words.
Scanning the contents of the article, you read that Yoongi—Suga—was set to release his debut album. And apparently, many music critics were anticipating the drop due to a preview of his single that dropped a few days ago. You click on the link that leads to you a video and a song begins playing. It’s short, only fifteen seconds long, but leaves your chest heaving.
You look through a few more articles before you hear your name being called.
“Y/n, you’ve got customers,” your manager calls.
“I’m coming,” you answer even though you want to keep looking through the internet, but you also don’t want to get fired.
You walk back out into the main area of the store and see a young man browsing the vinyl shelves. Looking around, you notice that there is no one else in the store and you almost want to scream at your manager for making you come out for one person. He didn’t even look like he needed help. But you walk up to him anyway and put on your best fake smile.
“Hi, do you need help with anything?” you ask in a voice that sounds way too cheery, even for your own ears.
The guy looks over at you, “I’m just looking around, but thanks anyway.”
He turns his attention back to the vinyl in his hands, and you can’t help but look at it too. You notice the familiar cover and smile, “I really like that album.”
“Really?” he looks at you surprised. “Not many people listen to them anymore.”
“Yeah, they’re a band Yo—” you catch yourself, “an old friend introduced me to a long time ago.”
Yoongi had introduced you to them sometime around when the two of you had first become friends, and you had loved them since. Seeing the album stings a little, nostalgia from the past resurfacing.
The guy offers you a wide smile, “Your friend has great taste then.”
For a moment, you feel struck by this stranger’s smile. A warmth you haven’t felt in a while fills you up at how genuine it seems.
“By the way, I’m Jeongguk,” he introduces himself to you.
“Y/n,” you reply, shaking yourself out of the little trance.
“So y/n, how long have you been working here?”
“Just the past year,” you tell him.
Jeongguk nods, “So you like music then?”
Only because of Min Yoongi. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
The conversation hits a lull, but you find yourself not moving away from him yet. Jeongguk has picked up another vinyl by this point, seemingly moved on. You take this moment to ask him again if he’s sure that he doesn’t need your assistance. But the boy just kindly declines your offer and you finally begin to walk away. Before you can very far, however, something stops you.
“Since you like music, there’s a show happening at a bar near here tonight. A friend bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket…did you want to go?”
You turn around, slightly biting your lips, “Tonight?”
“Yeah, it’s tonight,” he says looking a bit flustered. “I mean, I understand if it’s too short of a notice—or if you just don’t want to go. It’s just an offer but I get it if you—”
“I’ll go,” laughter comes with your response. He was kind of cute when he didn’t know what to say.
“Really?” Jeongguk looks shocked by your answer; and honestly, you kind of were yourself. “You’ll go?”
Nodding with a small smile, you say, “Sure, why not?”
“I mean...you just met me,” he says.
“You just met me too,” you retort, raising a brow.
“Touché,” he smiles. “When do you get off?”
“At five.”
He pulls out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and unlocks it, scrolling through something. Suddenly, he tosses the phone to you, “Here.”
You barely catch it, the phone awkwardly wedged in-between both of your hands. When you hold the phone properly, you discover that his contacts page is up. Jeongguk quickly tells you that he, in his own words, kind of needs your number if he is to pick you up at your place later. You feel your face begin to heat a little, but type your number and save it under your name.
Handing him back the phone, you smile, “Just text me and I’ll text you my address when I get off.”
After a few more exchanges, Jeongguk leaves the store with a see you later and a strange happiness you haven’t felt in a long time washes over you.
***
As the hours tick by, you find yourself getting more and more excited about the nights promised event.
This was going to be the first social outing you attended in, what has seemed like, forever. And while you were extremely excited to go out, there was an impending sense of distress lingering in your mind.
You just didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself.
So when the time reads just a few seconds past five, you clock out faster than you ever have before and bolt home. Walking into your apartment, you pull out your phone and see a message from an unknown number. You swipe the message and smile when you realize that it’s Jeongguk. You type out your address, send, and are pleasantly surprised when he replies back within seconds.
The two of you text back and forth for a few minutes, and he lets you know that the show doesn’t start until eight. But before you can suggest that it would be okay if you just met him there, he says he’ll pick you up half an hour earlier.
You spend the next two hours frantically searching for an outfit to wear. These things all seemed like foreign concepts to you; you have no idea what to do. It was like you were suddenly unskilled in the art of date preparation.
Up until the last mere seconds, you struggle with your hair and makeup. You barely get a second to compose yourself before the doorbell rings.
Running to the door, while simultaneously slipping your shoes on, you open it and see Jeongguk standing there. You take a split second to do a once over, and are surprised by how nicely he is dressed. But perhaps your split-second stare is too long because Jeongguk raises a brow and your face immediately heats up.
You awkwardly cough, “Um, hi.”
“Hey,” he smiles, showcasing cute bunny-like teeth and your embarrassment soon fades away.
The walk to the bar is surprisingly not that bad. You had expected it to be painfully weird, but it’s not; you find yourself carrying an easy conversation with Jeongguk. When the two of you reach the bar, you actually feel sad that the conversation has to end.
“So, who is playing tonight anyway?” you ask, walking into the dimly lit place.
Jeongguk leads you to a set of empty chairs. “They’re a local band; I think that’s them right now.”
He points behind you, which causes you to turn around and see a stage lit up with various spotlights. On the stage, you see a group of guys plugging up equipment and instruments.
“Do you know them?” you ask, turning back to face him.
“Nah,” he shakes his head, “well, not personally at least. I’ve heard their music before and it’s great.”
You nod and smile a little, “I’m excited.”
“Good,” Jeongguk returns the smile. “By the way, did you want anything to drink?”
He tells you that it’s only normal to order drinks, since the two of you are at a bar. You laugh and say that you’re up for anything; you were never too picky about your alcoholic beverages. “So…anything?”
“Yeah, I’m cool with whatever,” you assure him.
Jeongguk leaves with the promise of bringing you a drink that you’ll love. Once he is gone, you settle into a chair, looking around the room and taking in all the décor along the walls. The bar is small, but it has a nice feeling to it and you wonder why you have never bothered to come before.
There were many times you had walked right past the tinted windows of this place, not even sparing the deep red brick walls a second glance.
You return your attention back to the stage just as the band begins playing. Not only are they extremely talented, they also manage to get the crowd excited—which is really impressive. Unconsciously, your hands begin clapping along to the beat of the drums.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The voice startles you for a second, until you realize it’s just Jeongguk. He stands beside you with a drink in each hand, and a smile stretched across his face.
You smile sheepishly, “Uh…yeah; the music’s great.”
He laughs, “I told you.”
Jeongguk hands you a drink and you take a sip, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. The drink isn’t bad at all and you end up downing the entire thing in a few seconds. You set the glass down and look over at Jeongguk, whose eyes are wide.
“What?”
“Well damn, y/n…” he says and you realize how crazy you must’ve looked just a few seconds ago.
“High alcohol tolerance?” is your lame excuse; it’s obvious that Jeongguk doesn’t buy it, but he just laughs again and begins to sip his own drink.
The little gig continues on, and you find yourself having a great time. You realize how much fun being around Jeongguk is—he dances along to each song, adlibs a bit, shouts with the band, and unwillingly makes you do it all too. And as embarrassing as it is, you don’t mind looking stupid as long as it’s with him.
For the first time in a long time, you’re having fun and the change feels great.
After a few more songs, the band lets the crowd know that their set has come to an end—to which Jeongguk boos along with the crowd and demands an encore. You just shake your head and laugh at his antics. Fortunately, for Jeongguk’s sake, they agree on one more song. And the boy is so happy you can’t help but feel the emotion too.
When the show is officially over, Jeongguk offers to walk you home—he claims it to be the gentlemanly thing to do—and you don’t dare argue. The walk back to your apartment is spent talking more about music under the lights of the small town. In all honesty, you had forgotten how pretty it could be at night.
“If you like the band that played tonight, there’s another similar one that’s playing at the same location next week…”
You look up as Jeongguk trails off, his face softy illuminated by the streetlights. “Are you asking me out again?” You tell him this with a raised brow and enjoy it when he starts to look all flustered.
“Um…no,” he scratches the back of his head, “…maybe?” He says all of this without looking at you, which you find absolutely adorable.
“Well, if you’re maybe asking me out…I’ll maybe say yes.” You laugh at your own words and only cease when you suddenly feel Jeongguk stop walking, and grab both of your hands. You jump a little at the contact, his warm hands a stark contrast against the cool night.
“Really?” he smiles widely, revealing a bunny-like grin.
“Uh…s-sure,” you stutter, but pray that he didn’t notice.
“Cool,” he says, lifting up his chin. “Then, will you go out with me again?”
You tell him yes and he practically skips the rest of the way to your place—one hand still tightly clutching one of yours.
The rest of the way there, you can’t even think straight. Your mind screams he’s holding your hand y/n! and you can’t stop the thought from resurfacing every point five seconds. But once you see your building come into view, you release a slight sigh of relief.
“Well, I guess this is it.” Your feet plant onto the stiff fabric of your doormat, slowly kicking at it. You look up at Jeongguk, only to see that he’s already staring right at you.
“Thanks again for coming out tonight,” he smiles.
You return it, “Thanks for inviting me.”
A moment of silence passes between the two of you and you don’t know if you should go inside, or do anything at all. It also doesn’t help that Jeongguk is still firmly holding onto your hand. As you finally decide to just call it a night, you turn around and slip your key inside the lock.
“Y/n?” Jeongguk suddenly calls your name.
Turning around, you’re about to ask him why he called your name. But before you can, you realize that he is inches away from you. His hand has detangled from your own and found its way to your face, gently cupping it.
“What—” and as the word leaves your lips, his own meet yours.
And you’re frozen; mind devoid of thoughts, body incapable to moving. But just as quick as everything begins, it all ends just as fast. The warmth emitting from his body is gone, and all you want to do is have it back.
“Have a good night, y/n,” he says, hand caressing your face.
“You too,” you reply quietly, head spinning.
Jeongguk’s thumb runs over your cheek one last time before he leaves. And even when he is gone, you continue to stand there completely dumbstruck. Eventually, you realize how strange this all looks—meaning, what if one of your neighbors saw you—and snap yourself out of the trance.
Shutting the door behind you and walking down the hall to your bedroom, you run a finger over your lips the entire time. Once you reach your room, you fall onto the bed with a sigh and stare at the ceiling. You don’t know how long you stare, but what you do know is Jeongguk plagues all your thoughts. Everything almost feels like a dream, but the only thing reminding you that this is reality is the warmth you still feel pulsating through your hands.
Somewhere beside you, your phone vibrates and your hand flies over your covers searching for it. Once you get ahold of it, you press the power button on the side and see a text message from Jeongguk.
Instantly, your heart starts to beat a little faster.
You swipe his name and see the cheesiest goodnight text that nearly makes you throw your phone across the room, but you love it at the same time. The question of whether or not to text back stresses you for a moment before you decide to hell with it, responding with a simple goodnight.
It was clearly the easy thing to do, but you have had enough over-stimulation of feelings today to last forever. You don’t expect Jeongguk to text back, it was late after all. So you decide to head off into dreamland yourself, already dreading going back to work in the morning.
Washing up, you change into your pajamas and slip underneath your covers. In the drawer of your nightstand, you pull out an extremely worn-out journal and fish for a pen. Every night, you write out the events of your day. The good, the bad, the ugly—everything. It was therapeutic, really; you have been doing it every night since…
And that’s when you realize Min Yoongi hasn’t crossed your mind a single time the entire night. This was a first for you; you were used to him filling even the littlest of your thoughts.
Not only was it a relief, but you could breathe again.