Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter 1-

You were truly going to miss Jimin and Tae once they were gone.

Although your time with them had been brief, you'd come to regard them as very dear friends. Their mutual kindness and their uncanny ability to make you laugh so uncontrollably you often feared a few cracked ribs had made them such a lovely addition to your life, one you would regret bidding goodbye to once you showed them the full extent of your anger. The idea of them meeting their demise at such a young age was sad for certain but necessary to appease your desire for the retribution they both so rightly deserved.

In truth, you had no intention of killing your friends, but jokingly entertaining the notion seemed to help you ignore a fraction of the frustration making you want so badly to just go home where you could mope in peace. At least in the safety of your apartment, you wouldn't have had to contend with the taxing effort it took to push your way through the crowded club, hoping to spy some sign of the friends who had essentially abandoned you or a table that wasn't occupied by other patrons where you could sit. You could deal with the busy club scene here and there, actually enjoyed it when you were in the right mindset. Being alone at an unfamiliar establishment in a sour mood made worse by being ditched by the very friends who had dragged you out in the first place had done little else than make you crankier. Finding yourself in a fantastically grumpy state in the first place wasn't exactly something you were happy about, but you hated being irritable even more when it was in public. At home, you could be crabby in your underwear. That was certainly not something you could say would fly at present unless the Powder Keg had very lax rules about public nudity.

“Maybe I should just call Wes.”

Part of you wanted to hunt down your phone from within the sometimes fathomless depths of your purse, contemplating how much sense it made to stop being stubborn and just reach out to your boyfriend. You had no idea where his head may have been that night or if he was just as grouchy as you while he was out with his friends, wondering if maybe enough hours had passed that the two of you could talk about things without getting as upset as you both had that afternoon. The last thing you really wanted to do was continue being petty, but you couldn't help how hurt you still were, especially when you didn't have the boisterously fun presence of your friends at your side to keep your thoughts as far away from the argument as possible. The lack of that needed distraction was probably why you felt so cross with Jimin and Tae for losing you to the crowd, even if they hadn't done so on purpose. They'd promised to ensure that you had a great time, help you temporarily forget about what had gone down that day. That they were nowhere to be seen just seemed to remind you of the promise that Wes had made and broken, the crowd all around you an almost empty and faceless place to be when your heart wasn't in the revelry happening all about.

No, you weren't ready to talk to Wes yet, but you weren't completely ready to just allow your Saturday to end up a wash either, letting your phone stay in your purse as you put more energy into trying to have fun. Pinning down the whereabouts of the boys seemed like the best way to make that happen, irritation gently fizzling away as it often did when you'd afforded yourself the time to think things through, making your way towards the back of the club. There looked to be fewer people in that direction and from what you could see the folks milling about towards the back wall looked to be more subdued than everyone closer to the stage. The idea of having breathing room and space to move your elbows without bumping into someone was so much more appealing than braving the noisy throng of music enthusiasts which had threatened to swallow you up. The performer up on the stage was harder to get a good look at from so much further away, but you weren't so concerned with seeing when the important part was hearing and you had to admit that you enjoyed the artist's music more when you could properly appreciate it. Had you not taken note of the emcee's announcement prior to the current set or heard Joohoney dropping his own name in verse a time or two, you may have mistaken the presently performing rapper to be the ever-elusive Min Yoongi the boys had brought you out to see.

Although you'd been around to Tae and Jimin's place a fair few times since they'd befriended you, their other roommate had been essentially a ghost, a phantom painted in your mind through stories of old times and details of his personal habits. The boys had spoken of Yoongi with equal parts affection and even reverence, making it clear from the get-go that the older man was someone both boys admired very much. All of the other friends in their group that they promised to one day introduce you to sounded like extraordinary people, individuals you truly looked forward to meeting, but Yoongi, in particular, was who you hoped to see sooner when he'd piqued your curiosity so much. If it hadn't been due to his job then it was sleep which had prevented the two of you from finally exchanging a first greeting, the mystery that he was one you hoped to see unraveled with every continued reassurance from your friends that it would be soon. You may have gone to the club in a sour state, but the possibility of finally seeing the apparent legend himself perform had allowed for some sure excitement. Tae, ever inclined to gushing about Yoongi's rapping prowess, had insisted that you weren't allowed to hear any of the music their roommate had crafted until you could see him perform live first. Now that the night had finally arrived, you were truly looking forward to it.

When his set was due to start wasn't information you knew offhand, but you were keen to listen out and wait, the thought that maybe Jimin and Tae had gone to look for him before he took to the stage making their swift departure from your side make more sense. It also occurred to you, finally, that it might be wise to text them, let them know where to find you or where you could find them. Unzipping your purse to find your phone, you gave yourself a silent reminder not to get hung up on whatever texts you may or may not have gotten from your boyfriend since the last time you'd checked the device.

“You here by yourself?”

The voice startled you from your concentrated rummaging, the query sounding so near that you knew even before you jerked your head up that it had been directed your way. Your gaze lifted, the dark-haired man standing before you smiling with an easy friendliness, body swaying from what you hoped was a response to the beat rather than an excess of alcohol.

“No. I'm here with some friends.”

“Friends, huh?”

He glanced around, making a show of scanning the room back and forth more than once, head tilting and grin growing once he turned his eyes back on you.

“Looks like they ditched you unless they're off taking a leak. Shame to leave such a pretty lady all by herself.”

“Mm.”

You weren't quite sure what to say to a sudden compliment like that. It was nice of him for certain, but awkward to hear when it came from what you wagered was a clear place of flirtation and though you considered yourself to be somebody with pretty good manners, thanking him for the compliment felt too much like accepting it or whatever he might be hoping to get out of it.

“My name's Ryan.”

“YN.”

“Nice, nice. Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Yeah. I like it okay.”

Ryan chuckled, not that there seemed to be much that was funny about the conversation or worth laughing about, his grin refusing to falter even though you were positive your expression and body language had to broadcast your discomfort clearly. He lifted the beer he'd been holding to his lips, taking a long pull from the frosty bottle, and you wondered just how many he'd had, glancing beyond him while he was drinking to see if you could spot Jimin or Tae. His satisfied exhale made you look back his way, chewing your lip.

“How about I buy you a drink?”

“No, thank you. I'm not planning on drinking tonight.”

“Well, that's no fun. It's the weekend, beautiful. Gotta let loose a little. How about you at least let me treat you to one? What's your poison?”

Ryan stepped a bit closer and you stepped back, forcing your smile to widen, to make yourself still seem polite even in your denial of his wants. You hated to have to make yourself be nicer than you wanted to be just to appease a guy who had thus far shown that he might not take no for an answer, but you'd learned before from friends and the occasional uncomfortable experiences at other bars that some men could get hostile whenever they were rejected. It was ridiculous and unfair, something nobody regardless of gender identity ought to have to put up with, but it sadly happened and you knew you had to play things as cool as you could. If you blew up at the guy eventually, you had no clue if anybody would intervene should he show signs of aggression.

“No, really. I'm good. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not thirsty. In fact, I think it's time I get back to finding my friends.”

You went to move around him, away from him, but Ryan stepped in your way to stop you, holding open his arms in what would have looked like a gesture of surrender had he not blocked your path.

“Why don't I go with you? They might find you more easily if you have help and hey, maybe instead of having a drink we can dance in the meantime?”

“I appreciate the offer, Ryan, but no thank you. I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate me dancing with another guy.”

You made sure to put as much verbal emphasis on the fact that you were taken as you could, starting to inch back and to your increasing worry, Ryan followed. His need to keep close, to crowd himself into your space, made you want to shrink into yourself even though you wanted to stand tall, find the steel in your spine that had you wanting to toss aside caution to let him know he was being a jackass. You could feel the glare coming upon your features, but you weren't sure it looked convincing, not when the man before you remained undeterred.

“Your boyfriend isn't a very good one. If you were my girl, I wouldn't leave you all alone.”

“Well, I'm not your girl and neither I nor my boyfriend appreciates it when someone can't take the hint that I'm not interested.”

“What?” he lightly scoffed, nonplussed as could be, still trying to move uncomfortably nearer to you. “You gonna have him beat me up?”

It was just about cinematic how quickly Ryan ended up on the floor after uttering those words, a fist slamming into his jaw as if it had been written in a script and set before a camera crew. The blow had him falling onto his back, either due to simply having enough power to knock him off his feet or aided spectacularly by the alcohol in his system. You didn't much care either way, feeling relieved that he was out of your face even when it had startled you that somebody had clobbered his, peering down at the man in mute shock as he too seemed to be trying to process what had just happened. A man almost twice Ryan's size bent over to start tugging him up onto his feet, doing so with a nettled roughness which helped to inform you that he must have been a bouncer, theory proven by the Powder Keg t-shirt he had on.

“Next time somebody tells you they aren't interested, learn how to back off, asshole.”

The voice at your side finally had you glancing away from the drunk you'd been so fed up with and scared of, belonging to a man who looked as unimpressed with Ryan as the bouncer looked equally done. He was smaller than who he had punched out, neither especially tall nor overly broad, but he had the sort of sharp gaze that you were certain could be intimidating enough to make his slightly more diminutive stature mean nothing.

“Fuck you, man! Say that shit to my face!”

Ryan struggled against the bouncer's hold to no avail, the man clearly perfect for his job given that he managed to easily nod in the direction of your rescuer before hauling the cussing nuisance off like he'd barely break a sweat doing so. You lingered on watching the two disappear from sight, seeing how those in the crowd who had witnessed the brief altercation moved out of the way to let Ryan be dragged off the premises, almost numbly taking note that some folks had started applauding and hollering in approval. Fingers tapped your arm a few times, the wordless effort to gain your attention working, and you felt the same hand which had laid your harasser out taking hold of your own, loose and gentle compared to how much force it had likely taken to send the boozy brunette to the floor. He stared at you, eyes deeply brown and as inscrutable as his expression, taking a step back with your fingers carefully clutched in his, halting as he watched you. When you didn't say anything negative, made no attempt to yank your hand free, he turned away to start heading towards the nearby bar, moving with a slow gait that didn't feel forcible or even remotely frightening. His silence ought to have been concerning, had you wanting to grow as defensive as you'd been getting with Ryan, but you couldn't will yourself to react the same way. Perhaps it was the oddness of his coming to your rescue which had thrown you off or maybe it had to do with how different his overall demeanor and aura felt compared to who you'd been dealing with moments before him, but you felt less worried about him than you expected you should have been. It could also have helped that his grip on you felt purposefully breakable before it dropped away, his hand letting go of yours once he'd gotten you to the bar.

“Hey, Wonshik!”

The bartender's eyes filled with recognition at the sight of the blonde waving him over and regardless of how busy he was, he made an immediate beeline over to the other man.

“Some asshole was giving her trouble, so keep an eye out in case anyone else tries something and give her whatever she wants on my tab. And let her see you make her drink is she wants one, all right?”

He sounded about as blasé about the whole thing as a person could while having to raise his voice to be heard, the nonchalance almost going against the kindness expressed in his words. It wasn't every day that a guy played your knight in shining armor and made certain you could have a drink without worry that it might be tampered with. That was thoughtful of him, as surprising as it was appreciated, your thanks not even making it out of your mouth before the guy was walking away with little else than a nod in your direction, led along towards the booming voice of the emcee taking over the stage again. You almost felt like you could have been imagining that everyone's attention was on him too, but there was no mistaking the way so many people moved out of his path, some clapping their hands as they watched him pass. A chant seemed to follow him, a booming call of 'Suga' filling the air, like dedicated followers chanting for an idol. He was only gone from sight for a few seconds, appearing again on the stage once the emcee had disappeared, stepping with a purpose and a resolute type of swagger, a mic already clutched in one hand. The intro to a new song had already begun to play before he'd reemerged, the opening notes an immediate profession of power to match the way your olive jacket-clad savior regarded the wild crowd, their hollering gaining pitch as the blonde slowly lifted the mic to cockily smirking lips.

You were blown away by him in a matter of seconds.

The rapper who had come before him had sounded spectacular from what you'd gleaned from his performance, but you hadn't paid him as much attention as he deserved during his time on the stage given how you'd been lost to your thoughts, your crappy mood. Your perceptions of Suga could have been heightened into an unyielding focus after what had only just occurred and how he'd assisted you, but even with that likely being the case, there was no way you could deny how awestruck you became as he took command of the stage and the crowd. The booming rhythm and bass of his song seemed to be led by his flow, words dictating the beat while meshing with it to complement one another rather than work in opposition. Every clever bit of lyricism, full of powerful phrasing and razor-sharp disses, was fired off in a sometimes breakneck speed that burst through the air like rounds through the muzzle of a machine gun. There was a clear knack in him for switching up his tones, from sudden sharp highs to deeper levels dripping with almost honeyed insults, as well as his pace. His words could bounce evenly on the beat just to race later without seeming to care about needing oxygen and you weren't sure exactly how he did it. In the snark and ferocity was also a depth, a layer of emotion beyond the more evident verbal tongue-lashing which spoke of pain turned confidence, armor plating forging a man who could handle anything someone's petty words could try to throw back at him.

The longer you watched him, quietly mesmerized and mutely shaking your head at the bartender asking if you wanted a drink, the easier it became to understand why everyone had seemed so hyped for his set. By the first song you were enthralled, by the second you were excited for the next, and by the last, you felt disappointed that it was all over. If the boys' roommate was half as skilled as Suga then you were still in for a treat. Whoever the blonde might be outside of the Powder Keg beyond a rescuer of pestered individuals and one hell of a gifted rapper, you didn't know, but you hoped you'd have a chance to properly thank him for earlier, deciding to temporarily forgo trying to find your friends to remain at the bar where you might have a better chance of reuniting with the performer. Knowing the boys, they'd end up thirsty for something before the night was done, especially with all of you taking a rideshare home later, and while Tae could be picky about his alcohol, Jimin had a tolerance Dionysus would've been impressed by. They'd probably find you quicker next to the bar then you would ever find them by going hunting in the audience.

“YN!”

“Speak of the devil...”

You turned the rotating seat of your stool to find Tae and Jimin pushing their way towards you, arms tossed around each other's shoulders while looking equally sweaty in a sure clue that they'd been hyped up somewhere near the stage. A new performer had begun their set, but you could hear Taehyung singing the last song from Suga's instead, dancing as he grinned his hammiest possible grin. He'd clearly enjoyed the last series of songs just as much as you had.

“We're really sorry we lost you!” Jimin apologized with a quick yet still slightly bone-crushing hug. “We didn't realize that we got separated right away and then we got distracted when Suga went on stage! I promise we didn't do it on purpose!”

“Buy me a nice big plate of greasy fries next time we all snag a late dinner and we're good.”

“I'll buy you fries and the biggest milkshake!”

“And it still won't be as sweet as you, Jimin.”

He looked pleased, even kind of bashful, and he tucked his chin on your shoulder to let the embrace you shared last just a little longer, finally releasing you so he could join you in watching Tae continue his slow but far subdued dancing, hands trying to mimic some of the gestures you'd watched Suga use here and there. The rapper had to be famous in the underground scene based on the reaction to him and the boys looked to be big fans, making you wonder why they'd never brought him up before. Maybe it was out of respect for their roommate, not wanting to spend too much energy getting you pumped to see a stranger when they wanted so badly for you to see how remarkable their friend apparently was. Had Yoongi even made it to the club as of yet or had he ended up having to cancel his plans that night? Too curious not to ask, you tugged the sleeve of Jimin's denim jacket, letting Tae remain temporarily in his own little world for the moment.

“Hey, when are we supposed to meet up with Yoongi? Is he still coming?”

Jimin's brow creased, the dangling chain of one earring about touching his shoulder when he tilted his head to emphasize his perplexed state. You were sure you'd begun to mirror the look on his face flawlessly when you couldn't figure out why your query was apparently such an odd one, something seeming to click in Jimin's head as he went from being befuddled to seeming to recall an important detail he'd forgotten. Whatever that particular detail was went unsaid, Tae letting out a sudden cheer that would've startled the hell out of you had the club not been so rowdy in the first place.

“There you are! Certified rap god and genius! Suga! Suga!”

Taehyung latched on to the returned figure of your recent rescuer, alternating between embracing the man and tugging him closer to the bar while the blonde let it all happen, looking at ease with the praise and exuberant affection. Jimin reached out to grab one of Suga's wrists once he was close enough, helping his best friend lead the other man along until he was almost as near as he'd been when he'd brought you to the bar. As Jimin joined in on the lightning-fast flurry of kudos and repeated song sections, Suga's eyes eventually found their way back to you, lingering for a while on your face. He greeted you with the same sort of nod he'd given before he'd walked away for the start of his performance.

“You all right?”

“Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you, by the way, for earlier. I'm sorry I didn't say that sooner, but I think I was sorta in shock there for a hot minute.”

“It's fine. Nothing you need to apologize for.”

The brief exchange had been surprising enough for the boys to lull them to temporary silence, the two looking between Suga and yourself, evidently as perplexed by what the conversation meant as you expected they might have been without yet being informed of what had happened.

“Sweets, when did you meet Yoongi?”

“Huh?”

What Jimin hadn't been able to say to you before made sense in an instant, pieces to a very simple puzzle falling right into place. Without having known Yoongi's stage name or what he looked like, it was reasonable enough that you hadn't connected the dots between Suga and the boys' roommate being one and the same. That a man who had helped you out of a tense situation was the exact person you'd been looking forward to meeting was just an interesting twist on the evening, an odd manner of paths meant to cross doing so in a slightly dramatic way. It made you laugh a little, smiling brighter than you had in hours, and you slipped off the stool, holding out a hand to exchange a shake of greeting.

“Nice to finally get to meet you, Yoongi.”

He gave you the same hand which had held yours before, knuckles reddened from the punch he'd thrown, and you wondered if he was feeling any pain.

“Hey, what happened to your knuckles? It about looks like you wailed on someone.”

Sighing like the idea of giving a play by play of how you'd met him seemed taxing, Yoongi meandered forward to sit on the empty stool beside yours.

“You wanna give 'em the details while I get us all some drinks?”

Yoongi had already started turning towards the bar before you'd even given an answer, but it didn't feel like he was trying to be rude at all. It just seemed that he already knew that you would agree, possibly because he could picture how much the boys would start cheering for him once they realized precisely how he'd hurt his hand and he needed a drink before he could handle further praise.

“Wonshik!”

The bartender, just like before, started heading right in Yoongi's direction and you decided that you were fine letting him handle the beverages while you gave Jimin and Tae the skinny on what had gone down, their eyes fixing on you with the hungry anticipation of two gentlemen who knew a good story was coming to them.

“So, after we got separated earlier...”

-

The door at the end of the hall was a tightly closed and curious thing, concealing behind it a continued mystery you had only just begun unraveling in recent weeks. The sight of it still brought to mind a number of questions and a fair deal of wondering, every bit of the slowly lessening unknown you were trying to figure out centered on the figure out of your current view.

“Sweets, I think I know what you're thinking and if you're thinking what I think you're thinking then you don't want to be thinking it.”

When you turned from the not-so-distant door to Jimin it was to stare at him with the exact same baffled expression Taehyung was giving him from the opposite end of the couch, the both of you temporarily at a loss over the mouthful your friend had managed to get out.

“I'm thinking I'm confused. Could you explain what you're getting at without twisting either your tongue or my brain?”

“The door to doom. That way lies danger and you've got that look like you're expecting Yoongi not to murder you for waking him up just because you brought him coffee.”

“Even though I brought a box of bear claws too?”

“Alas, fair maiden, but not even the sweetest of sweets bestowed by our precious Sweets can waylay the tired rage of one Min Yoongi when he has been roused from his slumber prematurely.”

“Jimin, you're kinda doing the tongue-twisty thing again.”

Seeming to agree with your assessment, Taehyung slowly reached his hand out towards the cup of iced coffee his best friend had been consuming since you'd arrived a few minutes ago, sliding it away from Jimin's reach until the other man had begun to pout. The expression was a level of adorable that you doubted anyone could resist and Tae seemed to be just as helpless against it as you could confess to being yourself, handing back Jimin's afternoon dose of caffeine until his eyes did their usual scrunch of appeasement.

“You know, every time you guys talk about how much of a grump Yoongi is when he's tired, the more I'm inclined to think that you're exaggerating.”

“Why would we lie to you about something like that, though?”

“More food and coffee for you if you've got me terrified of him or thinking he's a dick?”

“Okay, that could be a totally valid reason, but it's not the case. I promise it's all out of love for you and your well-being.”

“My hero.”

Even though you rolled your eyes at him and made certain that your voice had been laced with a generous helping of sarcasm, Jimin beamed at the comment before he blew a kiss your way. You pretended to dodge it, the laughter doing so brought out of your friend making him slip off the couch and onto the floor, chairs a lasting enemy whenever the cheerful young man was especially amused. Smiling over the sound of his mirth when it was so charming and infectious, you bent over to help him back into his original seat. He remained giggly and adorable as he started sipping through his straw, slouching sideways to lean against Taehyung's shoulder without causing the other man to so much as blink while he nibbled at his bear claw. Jimin, you'd come to learn in the months that you'd been friends, was one to be readily open with showing physical signs of affection and Tae looked to be perfectly at ease with it, as accustomed to it as he was the way that Yeontan had taken to watching him like a hawk.

The fluffy Pomeranian sat still as a statue at his owner's feet, unflaggingly attentive to every bite that Tae took of his snack as he waited to be given a piece, whether intentionally or on accident. The pup was a precious sight to behold even while doing little more than silently begging for food, your desire to distract him with one of the dog-friendly cookies you'd brought deterred by the present absence of Holly. Thinking of the toy poodle led your gaze back towards the hall, knowing that the sweet creature was off napping with his human as he had been on a fair few occasions when you'd dropped by the apartment. It was a little funny for you to think on the fact that you felt more familiar with Yoongi's dog than you were with Yoongi himself, your introduction to the curly canine having happened a good month ago while you'd only just met the rapper who had adopted him in recent weeks. Holly seemed to love you as much as Yeontan, as much as Jimin and Tae, but what Yoongi thought of you remained ambivalent. He'd shown himself to be the courageous and thoughtful sort just as his friends had said him to be, proven by his lack of hesitation in coming to your aid that first night at the Powder Keg,

In the many days since then, he'd remained much the same way he'd been the night you'd finally gotten properly introduced to him, giving no concrete indication what exactly he thought of you. He hadn't been rude or mean whenever he'd actually been awake or around during your weekly hangouts with the boys, but he'd shown no outward allusions towards friendliness either, speaking to you very little if at all. From what you gathered, Min Yoongi was a generally good, nice person. You just had no real clue if he outright disliked you or had elected to tolerate you out of appreciation for the fact that you always made sure to bring extra food for him too whenever you treated the boys to a meal, having done so even before you'd come face to face finally. The lack of knowing for sure bothered you, made you want to ask him if you'd done something wrong at some point. Maybe there was nothing to be concerned about and the fact of the matter was that both of you still didn't know one another well enough to have gotten past the awkward stage of what might potentially become a new friendship. Just because Taehyung and Jimin had befriended you with ease and enthusiasm didn't mean that things worked the same way for Yoongi.

“All joking aside, he's not that bad.”

Tae cleaned his fingers free of crumbs and sweetness, balling up his napkin to toss it upon the table, exchanging his snack for the cider you'd gotten him in place of the coffee everyone else preferred.

“He's less actual intent to murder and more scary, icy glares that make you think he could murder you. I mean, Jimin's right that it's not a good idea to risk waking him up when he's got the death glare to end all death glares, but it's not as bad as we pretend it is.”

Recalling just how fierce Yoongi's stare could be made you want to shiver, the look he'd given the obnoxious drunk at the Powder Keg so feline and sharp you thought it could've intimidated giants. You'd gotten to bear witness to it, but had yet to be on the receiving end of such a quietly daunting stare down and you hoped you never would.

“So he's kinda like a Tootsie Pop or something? Hard on the outside, soft on the inside?”

“Minus the stick, yeah.”

Jimin snorted, breaking into soft giggles and they were followed by a sly little grin, one that had you bracing yourself for the obvious joke you knew was coming.

“I mean, we've both accidentally seen him coming out of the shower, so I think we can agree that he does actually have the stick too.”

“You have a dirty mind, Jimin.”

“And the face of an angel to go with it.”

The growing smirk made him look like the sweetest sin, handsome features gentle yet still so suited to the playful wickedness he expressed. The boy had some serious duality about him and had you been single or even remotely interested in him romantically, the look on his face would have destroyed you in the worst way. As it was, you could only find it amusing rather than any type of arousing.

“You're an angel in general, but just wicked enough that I'm gonna have to guard Yoongi's bear claws so you don't snag 'em before he gets up. I think his coffee is gonna be extra watered down and gross by then, though.”

You heard the sound of a knob being turned, the soft squeak of door hinges that desperately needed a spray of WD-40 announcing the awakening of the man everyone had been discussing. Holly rushed past his owner with an energy only a well-rested dog could possess, trotting right in your direction when you crouched down with hands outstretched for pets, wetting patches of your skin with eager puppy kisses. Yeontan headed over to join in, whether out of an equal need for attention or happiness to see that his friend was awake, and you were thrilled to have two dogs to love on. For a brief time you were distracted by the lively creatures, baby-talking them with unreserved affection, eyes panning up once Yoongi had reached where the hall led into the living room. He looked properly sleep rumpled, his sweats and t-shirt as wrinkled as his bleached hair was messy, one cheek possessing a few indentations from what you expected may have been due to the fabric of his pillow bunching up. In your eyes, everyone tended to look pretty cute whenever they had first woken up and had that foggy tiredness about them, Yoongi being no exception. He probably would have looked especially adorable to you had his expression not been so unnerving, eyes regarding you with a laser focus that made him appear more awake than he had to feel. His bangs were parted just enough that you could see how the natural color of his brows had scrunched down as he registered the sight of you, lips pulling into a slight frown, and you couldn't settle on if he was angry to see you there or so out of it that he was having trouble processing your presence altogether. It definitely had you fretting that you may have been overstaying your welcome and you longed for a day when you might be able to read him a little better.

If he wanted you to leave, Yoongi said nothing to make that desire totally clear and he finally acknowledged you beyond just staring with a nod and the smallest, laziest wave of his hand. He made way to the armchair that everyone had warned was indisputably his, dropping down into it like his body weighed a ton, eyes closing as he let himself really sink into the well-worn cushions. With his head angled back and his lips parting, he appeared ready to fall right back asleep regardless of his present company or the slight noise that the dogs made as they started playing with one another, gently woofing and growling.

“Still tired?”

Yoongi answered Tae with a soft hum.

“Even though you had a two-hour nap?”

He cracked one eye open and looked Jimin's way, lips beginning to purse, looking to be able to sense that the questioning was going in a direction he knew he wouldn't like.

“Not satisfied that you've slept long enough until you have long hair and a beard and you can ask everyone what year it is like you've been trapped for a few decades inside Jumanji?”

“You're my least favorite person, Jimin.”

Visibly affronted even when the comment couldn't possibly have been serious, Jimin dragged a hand back through his silvery hair to push it out of his eyes, wanting Yoongi to really see how appalled his expression had become. Taehyung snorted, giving one of his friend's thighs a slap and a reassuring squeeze, but Jimin was far from done playing up his offense, standing up from his seat. Both of his hands clutched at his heart, gripping the material of his loose sweater, breathing kicking up a notch right along with his theatrics. Had everything not been quite so over-exaggerated and had you not known how playful your friends could be, you would've given Jimin some props for how well he was attempting to sell his apparent heartbreak. You knew better than to fall for it or show obvious sympathy for the plight he'd gotten himself into, not when he could be as big of a troll as his best friend even with how generally sweet they were most of the time.

“Say it isn't so, Yoongi. Say it isn't so!”

“Well, I could, but then I'd be a liar.”

“Oh my god, you're so dang mean!”

Yoongi's face remained unflinchingly stoic and it just made the whole situation funnier to you. As awkward as you felt around the man and as bare-bones as your knowledge of him was, you'd still learned enough about his brand of humor to realize that he tended to be more subtle and sometimes savage in the way he joked around. Taehyung could be silly, quirky with how he tried to make people laugh and Jimin liked to be a bit more on the side of humorously dramatic, the two usually working off of one another like best friends were great at doing. Yoongi's bouts of playfulness looked to be a skosh closer to subdued from what you'd been able to witness, though there was really no telling just how much zaniness he could be capable of whenever he didn't have a near-stranger like yourself hanging around to throw him off or maybe make him uncomfortable. The boys had described that Yoongi could be just as prone to bouts of pure goofiness when he wanted to, not that you could picture it yourself just yet. Different as they were, all three of them seemed well able to make you giggle and you did precisely that as you plucked the thus far untouched cup of iced coffee from the drink caddy you'd brought with you.

“If I'm not your favorite then who is?”

You offered the Americano to the presently unconcerned rapper, watching his gaze morph from sleepy to intrigued as he stared at the cup and then at your face, fingertips accidentally grazing your own with a light touch as he took the drink. He looked over at Jimin for just a moment before his eyes flitted back towards you, a tiny grin warming his expression, making his cheeks seem a little flushed.

“She is.”

A smile and a compliment, even a playful one meant to mess with Jimin, was definitely a good sign in your favor. It was the most friendly Yoongi had been to you so far, different from his prior displays of chivalry and calm politeness, and it gave you a hint that he might actually be growing comfortable with your increasing presence in his life. It was something hopeful to you, providing a sense that maybe in time Yoongi might start to see you as the friend you wanted to one day become. If nothing else, it led you to believe that maybe he didn't outright dislike you as you'd been fearing, so you felt relaxed about grinning right back at him, with double the enthusiasm he'd expressed. The deepening color on Yoongi's cheeks was a sight you unknowingly ended up missing, going unseen when you flashed Jimin a self-satisfied look.

“Haha! I'm Yoongi's favorite!”

Not yet ready to give up his charade of disappointment, Jimin laid himself stomach down on the floor with a lamenting groan, hiding his face into the crossed cradle of his arms. He'd probably have done well to keep up his act had the sniffing of wet dog noses brushing over the back of his head and neck not gotten him to start cackling in delight. The partnered cuteness of Yeontan and Holly seeking his attention was enough to melt his falsified hurt away and have him turning on to his back to pet both pups.

“Would you forgive me for usurping your position as Yoongi's fav for another bear claw?”

“If we were being serious in the first place, Sweets, I'd have forgiven you for the coffee alone. Bear claws are just bonuses.”

“Delicious bonuses,” Taehyung agreed, fingers already itching for another of the sweetly nutty treats.

He gave the first pastry he got his hands on to Yoongi, taking note of the way his older friend had begun to quietly eyeball the box of treats on the table between them, and the blonde gave a contemplative bite, seeming to approve of the flavor after a few seconds. You weren't sure what his preferences for sweets were when the boys had claimed that he generally wasn't one to be picky about food, a question about what he might like in the future quieted by indecision. It felt silly to be so intimidated by the man without more reason, not so fond of how shy you felt about chatting him up when you ordinarily weren't so nervous about trying to make friends. Work entailed dealing with the general public on the regular, talking with all kinds of people, even the occasional grumpy customer, but you supposed there was something different about interacting with a possible one-time patron at your parent's restaurant versus someone your friends were close to.

“Speaking of tasty things, are you gonna hang out here until late, YN? Yoongi was talking about making kimchi stew for dinner tonight and you'd really like it. Never tell Jin I said this after we introduce you to him, but Yoongi's kimchi stew is the best.”

“Yeah! It's really good!”

“Oh yeah?”

Yoongi looked to be fighting a losing battle with his own smile, his eyes ducking away from the boys as well as yourself. He took another large bite of his sweet treat, but even chewing a decently sized mouthful couldn't disguise the shy pride their praise made him feel. It gave you a suggestion of the different layers the man seemed to possess which you'd heard more about than you'd personally seen, revealing to you how much more there might be to him beyond what he showed on the outside. That he had a humble side after he'd rapped so charismatically about his lyrical skills and flow alluded to his nature, sporting varying sides of his personality just like Jimin and Tae.

After a little bit of you regarding him, intrigued and pondering the different aspects of his being, Yoongi finally peeked your way, lips twitching as his smile waned and returned before it finally seemed to settle into something crooked yet no longer fought against. If it took coffee, pastries, and discussions about food to help peel back his shell and your own so that you could start to bond then you would happily engage in all kinds of meal talk.

“It's all right. You should stay if you wanna. I still owe you for the extra takeout you keep bringing whenever you feed these two bottomless pits.”

Taehyung and Jimin seemed to agree, looking hopeful towards your answer and very much like they were as delighted for you to learn how good their roommate was at cooking as they had been for you to witness his musical talents first hand. It was precious how much they admired and cherished the man, their respect for him so very evident however much they might like to try teasing him.

“You don't owe me at all, Yoongi, and I can't wait to try your cooking one of these days, but I actually can't tonight. Wes promised me he'd take me out on a dinner date and we haven't had one of those in a while, so unless he cancels on me again, I'll have to take a rain check.”

The boys groaned out their disappointment, the sound making their feelings on your plans obvious while Yoongi's response was much harder to pin down, his smile fading away. He looked neither upset nor relieved, face returning to the imperceptible mask you were more accustomed to, but thankfully he did nod his understanding and it helped to make you feel as if tentative progress towards some semblance of more had not yet been lost.

“Fair enough.”

His drink and his snack were settled down on the coffee table, hands freed up so he could scoop Holly up from the floor to settle on his lap. He stopped looking at you then, attention on his dog and his petal-pink lips puckered with quiet kiss noises, the sight making him look softer than you'd yet been able to view him.

“You can just come back around if he flakes out on you. I could always use someone to chop the onions so I don't have to.”

If he was willing to put you to work alongside him in the kitchen, even if it was to put you up to slicing tear-inducing vegetables to keep him from needing to, then there seemed to be a definite chance that friendship really was in your future.

Your boyfriend hopefully wouldn't back out of your date, but if he did once again then perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing.

-

The restaurant seemed too empty once the loud whirring of the vacuum cleaner was silenced, the clean tables and stacked chairs having been filled a mere few hours ago with patrons. Seeing the dining room dim, devoid of life and of sound, was so different from wandering through the space whenever it was full, bustling with voices and the fragrance of various dishes. You always preferred it more when it was packed no matter what sort of shift you'd been having, good or bad. Full seats reminded you that business was booming and that was always great for your peace of mind when you'd spent your whole life being part of a functioning eatery. At times, the after-hours quiet felt a little more off-putting than peaceful. When the open sign had been shut off and the doors had been locked, you needed to latch on to all the little noises which reminded you of the fact that the family business was still going strong, the clinking of dishes in the kitchen reassuring when it was just another indication of the establishment being tidied up for the opening crew.

Your great grandfather had opened the restaurant in his youth, when he'd been a young man with little money and a great deal of hope to motivate him. Although he'd passed away when your life had still been in its infancy, far too little to remember the sound of his voice or the stories he would tell, your grandfather, lovingly nicknamed Pops, had happily recounted the dream which had started it all. You could recall countless memories of sitting on your grandpa's knee as a child, listening as he spoke fondly of his father and the years he'd spent in Italy, falling deeply in love with the food and the people. The closest friend he'd ever made during those halcyon days had inspired him to dream, seek out the things he wanted in life yet felt he could never have, lighting within your great grandfather the desire to start his own business in the future. It wasn't until he'd learned of his faithful friend's unexpected passing that those dreams had been put into motion and ever since the restaurant had first opened its doors, your entire family had held on to the belief that it continued to remain successful due to the kindness and motivation passed on from Lorenzo to your great-grandpa. It possibly also helped that the establishment had been named for the man, honoring the memory of a young fellow who had died far too soon. Your Pops had happily kept the business going, with drive and ceaseless enthusiasm, passing the torch eventually to your mother and father, who had never let it falter.

Lorenzo's had always and would always, with any luck, be a part of your life. You'd grown up with your older sister inside its walls, doing homework at unoccupied tables and memorizing menus as the years passed. Your life lessons had been learned with the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates in your ears. You'd come to recognize the fragrance of every familiar dish long before your teenage years had brought with it the wondering of alternate paths and what-ifs. Your first love had been a place before it had ever been a person you'd met at school. Lorenzo's was your second home and every day its doors could continue to open made you feel at peace. You adored it and you always would, unable to imagine working anywhere else.

The phone in the back pocket of your jeans rumbled, text alert muted while you were at work, and you waited until you'd properly wound up the vacuum cord to check your messages. You walked as you read, wheeling the device along towards the storage closet where it was typically kept, the fall of your smile unsurprising given what you saw on your screen.

Wes: I'm so, so sorry, honey. I'm still caught up at the office, so it'll be a while before I'm out of here. Are you still at the restaurant?

You'd gotten so many texts from your boyfriend opening with an apology that you didn't think you could count how many times it'd happened anymore. Wes being stuck at work, tired from work, and just generally being unable to see you due to work was a song and dance you'd grown painfully accustomed to. Disappointment was an all too common experience where it concerned your relationship and you hated to admit it, but text apologies had begun to feel more familiar than his touch or voice. It was hard not to be upset or a little aggravated at times, even when you knew that Wes was trying and he usually put forth effort in attempting to make things up to you, ever remorseful for dates canceled or plans changed. You cared enough about Wes to want to give him the benefit of the doubt and to understand how hard he worked, how much his job meant to him, but you also cared enough about your own feelings to want to fight for your relationship to thrive. Sometimes his job came first, sometimes yours did, but it was essential to keep trying to meet one another halfway. You'd had discussions and even a few arguments about as much when things had started to become strained, all of it coming to a head the night he'd bailed on the date you'd both planned for over a week to instead meet up with his friends. It was important to you that your lives did not revolve entirely around one another, that you both have time to do your own thing, but it had hurt immensely that he'd decided to ditch you for his buddies for the second canceled date in a row, after nearly a month of him hardly calling or texting, making you feel basically single rather than in a relationship. You'd tried to be understanding, to see things from his perspective, but you'd been far too upset to do so and it'd only made you feel sad, not to mention angry, that the passion he'd expressed in arguing with you was the most he'd shown towards your relationship in any capacity for quite some time.

As awful as that fight had been, it had also been necessary, and you'd both been able to hash things out with a great deal more calm the next day. Over the past month since, Wes had been trying a little harder and you were glad for that, holding on to the hope that he'd keep it up, even if it meant just remembering to reply to your texts when he was able to or only having enough time at the end of the day to see each other just before bed. It was hard and you'd have been lying to yourself if you said you hadn't wondered if maybe things simply weren't working at all, but you didn't want to give up when you cared for him so much. Wes wasn't perfect, but neither were you. Nobody and no relationship could ever hope to meet as unattainable and subjective a standard as perfection. What mattered was knowing when things were worth trying for and you still felt in your heart that things with Wes, for all the balance you were both trying to find, weren't worth giving up on so soon. Perhaps you were being naive or even overly hopeful, especially when you hadn't reached a point in your affections for him that you felt able to say that you loved him, but you'd never been the sort of gal to quit without a fight.

Wes was still the man who had just about made himself sick ordering more dessert than he could handle just for the chance to get to talk to you a little longer as you waited on his table. He was just as much now the guy who sent you pictures of flowers on his lunch breaks because he thought you'd find them pretty as he had been in the first few weeks you'd been dating, even if the images came less often. You admired how hard he'd worked to get through law school and how much effort he put into his position at the firm, praising him for the success he'd more than earned. The ways he tickled you whenever he saw that you were down and left love notes through the shower steam on the bathroom mirror, even though those occasions were a bit rarer lately, still made your heart feel warm. Having a rough patch that you'd both become aware of and were attempting to work through wasn't, in your mind, reason enough to walk away from the relationship yet. Instead of allowing yourself to be overcome by returning feelings of disappointment, you messaged him back.

YN: Yeah. I'm about to see if Geon needs anything else and then I'm gonna head out .

Wes: It's getting late, though. Is he gonna drive you home? I'm worried about you walking back by yourself.

YN: It's only a fifteen minute walk. I don't wanna make Geon get home too late, not when sis is so far along.

The thought of your older sister and her stomach, heavy and round with her first child, had you grinning with a revived giddiness. It'd taken years of trying before she'd gotten pregnant and you still remembered how ecstatic the entire family had been when she'd announced that a baby was coming, Geon especially overwhelmed with joy. There hadn't been a dry eye in their living room that day and as her due date continued to near, you were brimming with excitement at the thought of getting to meet your nephew. As much as you missed your sister being present in the restaurant the way she always had been, you were very glad that she was taking it easy at home instead even though it meant that Geon was working that much harder to make her and the rest of the family proud. He was truly a wonderful man and about as incredible a husband as he was a son and brother. You were resolute about nagging him about going home sooner rather than later, set on doing so once you'd finished talking to your boyfriend.

Wes: At least consider taking a cab, please? And let me know as soon as you've gotten home? I'm gonna be at your place as fast as I can, I promise.

YN: Okay, I'll get a cab. Are you staying over tonight?

Wes: If you don't mind. I'm probably gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress , but I'll definitely have nicer dreams if I've got a soft YN-shaped pillow to cuddle.

YN: Careful. Don't want the other hotshot legal representatives in the office to know that you're so dang adorable.

Wes: I reserve my cuteness just for you, so it's our little secret.

YN: Thanks for letting me know I have blackmail material. :D

Wes: I'll sue you. I know how.

YN: LMAO

Whatever loose ends Wes had left to tie up for the night, you didn't know, but you decided to leave him to it rather than distract him further. You shut up the utility closet and made a run-through of the restaurant to make sure that yourself and the other members of the staff who had left earlier had done a thorough enough job on the cleaning and prep. A glance inside the kitchen showed that Kimmy and Eun-Chae had about finished up with everything on their end, the pair dismissing any need for help you'd offered when they were just about to head home themselves. Seeing them nearly ready to leave for the night made you even more certain that Geon would be precisely where you expected he'd be, hauled up in the back office going over the transactions for the day, and checking the books to make absolutely certain that everything was in order. He was just as if not more thorough than your mother where it came to the clerical side of things and it had made him an amazing addition when he'd joined the restaurant staff so many years ago, the fact that he'd become just as perfect a fit for your family an unexpected bonus his hiring had brought to everyone's lives. Nobody had anticipated that he'd fall for your sister when he came in for his first interview, let alone that he'd end up such an invaluable team member, but you'd all come to think of him as one of the best surprises Lorenzo's had ever had. You had no clue where things might go with Wes, if you really would last together or if perhaps someday there'd be somebody else who might steal your heart, but you had few expectations that your long haul partner would end up joining the family business. In fact, you didn't much think you needed that sort of situation to be happy. You were glad just the same, though, that your mom and dad had at least one in-law so invested in seeing Lorenzo's continue to succeed.

The door to the office had been left half-open and taking a peek inside once you'd neared the frame revealed the wide expanse of Geon's back, his head bowed forward as he went about double-checking the day's receipts for what you could imagine had to be the third time or so. You knocked lightly against the wall, hoping not to startle him as badly as you likely would have by suddenly saying his name. The sound had him turning the chair he occupied around, regarding you with his glasses half-way down the bridge of his nose. He didn't look any worse for wear despite having been at the restaurant for several hours, but there was a definite tiredness to the hinting slump of his shoulders.

“Hey. Everything looking good?”

“Yeah. I've gone over the till and the receipts. Everything looks fine. You know me. I like to double-check everything just to be on the safe side.”

“And sometimes triple and quadruple check.”

Geon's grin bordered near to a grimace, looking very much like you'd called him out, but not necessarily bothered by it. He pulled the glasses from his face to fold up the stems, stuffing his spectacles into the front pocket of his black Lorenzo's t-shirt, and the groan he let out when he finally straightened his back to stretch lingered for several seconds before he angled back in his chair.

“Eun-Chae and Kimmy are about to leave. All the prep and cleaning is done and inventory is taken care of. I talked to dad already and he's gonna stop at the butcher shop and the farmer's market first thing tomorrow. Want me to give you a hand going over everything one more time before I leave?”

“Nah. I'd say we're good. Wes already here to get you?”

One look at your slightly crestfallen expression told Geon everything he needed to know and he sighed with a well-known exasperation, forcing a smile for your sake. He was as good to you as you would've hoped a brother to be, let alone a brother-in-law, and he'd made it known on a few occasions that he wasn't quite so fond of Wes. There'd never been any rudeness or animosity between the two of them, but Geon had seen you upset enough times over your boyfriend to have grown more than a little frustrated with the guy, doing his best to be understanding when you'd implored him to be as patient with Wes as you tried to be. He wasn't one to be overly protective, but he took your happiness quite seriously and he'd told you frequently that you deserved better than how things had been, no matter how much you'd been sure to highlight the effort that Wes had been doing his best to put forward. You supposed it was just in the nature of brothers to be a little critical of the people their younger sisters dated. Thankfully, he seemed disinclined to bring any of his misgivings up.

“Want me to give you a ride?”

“Nah. It's out of the way and I promised Wes I'd take a cab. No worries.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I'm good. Give sis and her belly a kiss for me. You have tomorrow off, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then I'll see you Thursday.”

You bent over to give Geon a quick hug, one of his thick arms giving you a firm squeeze, and you exchanged one more good night to him before you left the office. Just to be on the safe side, you sent your sister a text on the way to get your purse from the break room, letting her know that her husband said he'd soon be heading home. If he got caught up, she'd be sure to give him a call to fuss at him to leave for the night, and if there was anyone in the world he could never argue with, it was her. Jacket tugged on and purse tugged over your shoulder, you started on towards the front entrance of the restaurant, phone screen bright before your eyes as you started to pull up the app for the rideshare company you preferred, making way towards one of the seats customers often used whenever they were waiting to be seated. A glimpse out the front windows just short of choosing a chair had you doing a double-take, gazing beyond the glass towards the blonde figure loitering outside. Unlocking the front door, you stuck your body halfway outside, suspicions quickly confirmed upon closer inspection.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”

Figuring it'd be safe to wait outside if someone you knew was right there, peculiar as his appearance may have been, you stepped out completely and pulled your keys out of your purse, locking the door behind you. Yoongi hadn't changed out of what you assumed was his work attire even though his shift at the music shop surely ended hours ago, the well-worn boots he had on not quite matching with the slacks and the white button-down, body kept warm with the same hooded coat he'd been wearing the night you'd first met. His hair looked just slightly messy yet still styled in a more defined part than what he often wore, possibly disheveled by the passing of his fingers again and again once he'd clocked out. Overall, he looked nice even with all the signs of a weary man who'd been free from his daily grind for a little while, too tired to change clothes right away. As you strode closer to him, he took a sip from the paper coffee cup he held in one hand, giving a waving gesture with the other to convince you to follow him as he started walking down the sidewalk, heading in the direction you always took on your way home.

“Jimin mentioned that you were working a later shift tonight. Said you don't have a car.”

Yoongi shrugged it off, edging towards the nonchalance he often tried to cloak himself in, and the attempted indifference was easier to see through when you'd gotten to know him a little bit better recently, more so when it was obvious that he was being incredibly sweet. The caring the boys had spoken so highly of in the past had become clearer to you with time. The subtly and hints of shyness that Yoongi carried with him whenever he was being gentle read with less difficulty than before when you'd been more intimidated by what you'd viewed to be his outward aura. Although the two of you hadn't grown necessarily close as of yet, not the way you were with Jimin and Taehyung, bantering had become more common and you'd stopped feeling quite as worried that you were merely being tolerated out of necessary politeness. Sometimes, Yoongi cracked sly jokes with you and on occasion, you even seemed to make him smile, the burgeoning bond that existed in the space between you feeling like less of a tentative thing compared to what it had once been. The occasional text to see how you were doing, brief as they could be, had amplified the fledgling hope you'd been feeling that things were progressing in your friendship and it grew stronger still in noting what the reason for his arrival was. He could have left it up to Jimin or Tae to see you home safely, brought one of them along to mitigate whatever discomfort he could have felt in being around you with no buffer. Instead, he'd shown up of his own accord, out of his own feelings of concern, to make sure that you reached your apartment without harm. It was not an expected turn of events, but it was a welcome one.

“It's sweet of you to come and walk me back. I was actually planning on getting a cab or something before I saw that I had my own personal escort.”

“No need for you to waste the money. Besides, we all live closer to the restaurant than you do, so it's not really out of the way for me to keep you company.”

It would be out of the way for him to walk all the way to your apartment and back, a point you chose to keep to yourself even though it was tempting to see if he might end up all flustered had you decided to mention it. Yoongi seemed to prefer it whenever the sweet things he did weren't brought up or fawned over, like he seldom needed or wanted recognition for being a good friend. He had a humbleness about him in that way, the bravado and mask of smirking arrogance he wore on stage not one he seemed to like donning seriously. There was confidence in spades to be seen in him, cockiness whenever it suited the right situation such as during a set or whenever he was joking, but the core of him seemed to be made up of humility above all else. The gentleness you'd been learning, inch by inch, was the thing that comprised the most of him and looked to be reserved in its greatest capacity for those in his inner circle. Him walking beside you, protecting you against the potential dangers of the night just as he'd done at the Powder Keg, let you know that you may have been welcomed fully into that inner circle, your place there seeming like less of a tentative or shaky thing. It appeared that Yoongi cared about you, not as a friend of Tae and Jimin, but as a friend, plain and simple.

Despite the late hour, the streets and sidewalks were far from empty or dimly lit. The wandering duo you found yourself to be a part of wasn't the only one walking along from one destination to the next. The cool breeze of the evening remained a soft sound compared to the passing cars and occasional honks of distant horns, street lamps and street lights bright enough in the night to block out much of the stars. You doubted it would've fazed you that much to have made the journey from work to home on your lonesome, but even so active a city with plenty of pedestrians to see any peril which may have come upon you couldn't diminish the reality that it was always dangerous to be a person walking alone. Having Yoongi beside you did make you feel safer and though you weren't expecting trouble, it was a reassurance in and of itself to remember how mean a right hook he happened to have. Your own wasn't half bad, but you'd have had better luck in a scrape using your keys as a makeshift weapon. Your mind had roamed to such worst-case scenarios had you shivering and Yoongi, looking to believe the action was due to the temperature, offered you a sip of his coffee to warm you up, brown gaze turning forward at your polite gesture of refusal.

“How long have you been working at the restaurant?” he eventually asked, either curious or merely tiring of the silence.

“Since sophomore year of high school. I started learning about what it'd be like to work there when I was younger and my parents wanted to hold off on having me officially start until I was eighteen, but I wanted to help out as soon as possible. Didn't make the switch from part-time to full-time until my first year of college.”

“Did your parents give you a choice about it? I mean, was working in the restaurant something you kinda felt like you had to do, or did you always want to be a part of the family business?”

“I've almost always wanted to, ever since I was little. It's hard not to get invested when you basically cut your teeth in a place like Lorenzo's, but I did have a brief stint in middle school where I wasn't sure if it was my endgame. Wondered for a bit what else I could do or what else I might want, but that didn't really last super long. I love that place too much. Always have really. My parents taught my sister and me all about the business, so we could join in if that ended up being what we decided to do. They always said they'd support us no matter what, though. Even if we realized that a different path was what we needed to follow.”

“Your sister end up doing something different?”

“Nope. We both knew pretty early on where we wanted to be. I think mom and dad still wonder to this day if we're secretly longing for something else, but we're not going anywhere. They'd have to haul us out kicking and screaming to make us give up on keeping the restaurant going.”

The mental image of your parents trying to carry either of their adult children out of Lorenzo's was a laughable one, especially with your mother being such a diminutive woman who your father often joked about putting in his pocket whenever she was being especially devious. Yoongi's grin was different from your own when you looked over, small and thoughtful, blocked behind the cap of his cup when he had another swallow of his warm drink.

“My parents both have office jobs, so I can't really picture working together, keeping up a business that's been a family gig for generations. Sounds kinda cool.”

“It has its ups and downs, but yeah, it kind of is. I'm proud to be a part of it.”

“You should be. Your place is my friend's favorite restaurant and honestly, I think you've got the best Italian food in town.”

Whirling around, you walked backward a ways just so you could keep your eyes on Yoongi, pinning him with the biggest smile you possibly could so he could see how happy his words had made you. Lorenzo's had been getting mostly good reviews for decades and a lot of your customer base was comprised of dedicated regulars. Learning that Yoongi and a friend of his seemed to be a part of that group of loyal returning patrons had you feeling terribly pleased.

“Sure you're not saying that just because I bring you freebies?”

“I mostly only like to bullshit when I'm trying to be funny. Trust me, Sweets. I never have a problem putting money into your restaurant. Now that I know you better, I just have an extra reason to up my tip game even more.”

You decided straight away that you'd tell your family about Yoongi and his friend as soon as possible, see if you could net them some extras sometimes when they both ordered out. Perhaps doing so was a bit of needless favoritism on your part that you might do better not to indulge in, but your family liked to show extra appreciation for their regulars anyway. What was the harm in the occasional free cannoli?

Starting to grow concerned about the way you were walking, Yoongi gripped one of your shoulders to slowly turn you back around, hand staying in place to ensure that you remained forward-facing in case there might be any lingering desire in you to watch him rather than where you were headed. A little glimpse of his face revealed that he was more bemused than prepared to bemoan your actions. It was a gratifying feeling to see him looking so terribly fond, especially when gazes of that nature weren't as readily available to you as they were for Jimin and Tae. He let go finally as you reached a large crosswalk, chucking his empty coffee cup into a trashcan before he started to pick up the pace in order to catch the light. You didn't have to jog to keep up with him, not when he power walked more than he ran, but you became slightly winded regardless seeing the exaggerated way he moved. He trekked on like a grandpa out for some exercise, arms swinging yet stiffly posed with his elbows bent, casual gait resumed once the two of you were across to the other side of the street. If your giggling over his random bout of silliness made him feel awkward or off, it didn't show at all on his face, expression in its usual state of Yoongi neutrality.

“So,” you began, merriment subsiding enough to let you resume your previous conversation. “What about your job? Did you always want to work in a music store and give piano lessons or are they a hold over until your rap career takes off?”

“Honestly, I don't really care too much if I stick strictly to the underground scene. As long as I can write and produce my own music, share it in some capacity, I'm pretty content. Working at the store is just another way for me to make a difference for other people the way music did for me growing up.”

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi drew his tongue across his lips, sucking in a soft hiss of air through his teeth, something you'd observed him doing often as a precursor to talking about something a touch closer to serious. Intrigued, you watched as he seemed to think for a second, possibly ruminating on answering at all. It gave you the idea that what he meant to share wasn't something that required measuring the things he wanted to say so much as he may have been trying to find the nerve to give details that might be sensitive. You could understand it being hard for him to answer a question if it related to part of his past he could've been wary of discussing with a newer friend, but he started to speak again before you could tell him he didn't have to open up if he felt uncomfortable.

“I was pretty lost for a while when I was younger. Dealt with a lot of anxiety, depression. I still do, truth be told. You know how it is. Things like that don't just go away 'cause you get help and figure out a system for dealing with everything. Back then, though, I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing, even though it was pretty clear what my parents wanted for me. I was in this really dark, shitty place and one of the only things that ever really seemed to help was music. It's not always easy for me to just say what I'm thinking or feeling, get it out all stream of consciousness like and that made therapy hard at first. Eventually, I figured out that I could say all the things I needed and wanted to say by writing lyrics, channeling all the rappers I'd come to admire and express myself through that kind of wordplay. It gave me an outlet to take all the pain I was carrying and put it outside of myself, make it easier to understand for me, and for the people who were worried about me.”

You tried to picture a Yoongi younger and smaller than the man walking at your side, hair still dark rather than bleached, matching the thoughts in his head and the hurting inside his chest as he scribbled lyrical poetry. It was sad to learn that he'd suffered in that way, had such a deep sense of being stuck in his own sorrow before he found a medium through which he could describe it, share it so he could move ahead in getting help. Everyone, at some time or another, went through a period in their lives where they could be overcome by experiences or personal demons, and sometimes the act of wrestling with them carried on well through adulthood. Sadness, feeling lost or uncertain, were universal things while the method with which people needed to heal or deal with them could vary drastically. That he felt able to confide in you about that part of himself, that aspect of his past and present selves, made you feel proud of him for having the bravery to share so openly when you knew it had to be hard, more so when he didn't know you super well. It also made you thankful that he looked to view you as someone worth opening up to, even if only to a small capacity.

“I've come a long way since back then, but I'll never forget what I felt when I wrote my first song, even if it was a total mess. There are a lot of kids out there who go through shit they don't know how to face and feelings they're struggling to get out. Playing the piano isn't necessarily writing your feelings directly, but music of any kind is still a form of expression and there can be a lot of solace in just tapping away at keys, making noise until eventually, you realize you're playing a song.”

“You want to help people the way you were helped.”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“That's really amazing, Yoongi.”

He scoffed, not to be rude, but rather to hide how embarrassed he was to receive your praise, angling his chin down as he swiped at his bangs. It was a very decisive method of avoiding eye contact for a few seconds, a way to mask the shyness he felt whenever praise went his way. It did not discourage you from telling him more of what you thought, not when you knew it was so worth letting him know how much you admired him for his revelations.

“I'm serious. I think it's really incredible to want to give help, try to share things that you found comfort in when you were struggling. I have so much respect for people who want to make the world better in their own way and you're doing that. You're taking something you're passionate about and trying to pass on how it can have a healing, transformative nature. That's really wonderful.”

The way you smiled at him, bright and affectionate, made Yoongi stop in his tracks, staring at you like he couldn't really process you looking at him that way. His nearly dumbstruck expression only magnified the warmth in your eyes, encouraged to let him know more of what you thought of him and what you'd learned about him that night.

“You're a really good guy. I mean it.”

Maybe it was out of bashfulness or the cool air brushing across his face, but Yoongi's cheeks filled with a flush of color and his lips squirmed as he attempted to wrestle away the grin your praise gave him. It was the most flustered you'd ever seen him look and it was actually so damn adorable, chasing away all your previous notions of having found him off-putting or scary until you very nearly couldn't understand how you'd ever been able to view him that way. The blonde scrunched up his eyes, head leaning back as he did a sort of awkward dance, wiggling his arms while he let out a loud, lengthy shout of near mortification.

“Ugh! Dammit! You're trying to kill me, Sweets!”

“What was that? Were you trying to imitate an octopus? Is that what you do when you can't handle a few compliments?”

To your credit, you did try very hard not to start snickering over how wonderfully absurd the display had been and you attempted to hide how badly you failed by balling a fist in front of your mouth. Yoongi saw right through it, wrinkling his nose in disapproval as your body trembled, your giggles too clear to miss. His vexation was a very obvious facade, one he gave up before long to join you, laugh with you, and even though his merriment was more subdued, it was nice to have him chuckling next to you regardless. He quieted back down well before you'd regained control of yourself, letting you snicker away as your feet got back to moving, not as bothered by it as he tried to pretend he was. You dropped your fist from your lips as the laughter in you finally tapered off, fading away, and as your hand fell down at your side you felt your knuckles brushing against Yoongi's, close as he was to your side. They knocked together briefly for a time, a few paces forward, and then he shoved both of his hands hurriedly into the pockets of his coat, surely thanks to the cool air keeping his cheeks so pink.

“I'm really glad, you know?”

“About what?”

“This. Us. The way we've been talking tonight. I feel like we're closer friends now. I know we've been getting to know each other a little better lately, but I think this is the first time it's felt like we've connected, just the two of us, without having to have the boys around. I like us being able to talk and goof off and just have fun together and there's none of that awkwardness. I'm not scared anymore that you might not like me.”

“I've never disliked you, Sweets.”

“Not even at first?”

“I knew we'd get along eventually just from how Tae and Jimin talked about you. Trust me, whenever I don't care for somebody it's pretty damn obvious. You've heard the shit I write. I'm not one to mince words when I've got an issue with someone.”

“So, I don't have to worry about any scathing lyrics being written about me in an upcoming diss track?”

“Nah. Never. I like you too much to musically murder you.”

“Well, that's a relief.”

You could feel Yoongi's eyes on you without looking over, a silent observation that he carried out, lost to thoughts you weren't sure he'd share. His elbow nudged your own and when the gesture hadn't served to stop you or grab your attention, he reached out to tug at your jacket sleeve, steady pace slowing rather than halting altogether.

“I know I'm kinda hard for people to get a read on and maybe I seem kinda mean or moody. A lot of people say I'm intimidating at first.”

“Yoongi, you don't have to explain yourself.”

“No, I think I do. I just want you to understand me a little better, 'cause I like having you around and I don't wanna scare you off or anything.”

It was far too late for there to be a chance of him doing that and you wanted to reassure him of that fact, your desire to hear him out the only thing that made you desist from immediately doing as much. It clearly meant a lot to Yoongi for you to listen, his plea for you to know his feelings and perspective enough to silence any further rebuttals.

“You don't annoy me or anything remotely close to it. I can just be kinda quiet a lot of the time, either because I'm nervous or I'm tired. I've never been like that around you because of you bothering me or anything. It takes me a while to relax and really be myself with people, even when I wanna get to know 'em better or I already enjoy their company. And I do enjoy your company, Sweets. A lot. I'm not the greatest at being obvious about that kind of thing or saying what I'd like to say, but I do like having you around. I wanna have you around more, to tell you the truth.”

The faltering anxieties which had slowly been decreasing with time seemed to finally, fully melt away and left in its place was an elated feeling. Yoongi had declared that he wanted you to understand him better and after his words, you felt as if you did. There was an astounding difference in hearing other people's perceptions of him and gaining your own due to actually hearing how Yoongi felt directly. In one moment, he'd waylaid every single worry you'd had about the friendship you'd tentatively built, solidifying its chances of becoming something great, something as wonderful as what you already had with Taehyung and Jimin. Just because Yoongi was shy in his way, reserved in some respects while you could be prone to easy worrying didn't mean that your relationship couldn't be as close as what you shared with the boys. Jimin was naturally friendly and flirty while Tae, despite being reserved in his own unique manner, was a gentle soul who seemed charged up whenever his best friend was near. The two played off of one another, fueled each other's energy, silliness, and ability to be open, thus making it simple enough for you to never doubt their fondness for you. Yoongi not working the exact same way, having walls that he needed time to let down with someone new, wasn't a bad thing at all nor did it mean that you needed to question how he regarded you. Honestly, you felt somewhat guilty for having assumed the worst so soon, misjudged him even a little, but you were also so happy to be able to get him a little better, accepting the new understanding of his inner workings that he'd provided.

The fact that you'd been worried so much let you know just how much you liked Yoongi too, welcoming of the knowledge that it was a mutual feeling and desire to nurture the relationship you had. The friendship may have been in its early stages, but it was special and so was Yoongi. You wouldn't have worried so much had you not been invested in him overall rather than simply how it might affect the boys had the two of you not gotten along. He was the friend who wiggled around when he was flustered and walked you home at night to make sure you were safe. He was sarcastic as hell and usually as sleepy as a cat while also being the type to run to a stranger's aid even if he may have felt anxious about chatting with them, a unique person for sure. You cherished his growing place in your life already and if his actions, his speech was anything to go by, he mirrored your sentiments.

“So, maybe you and I could hang out? Just the two of us?”

“Yeah? Just you and me?”

“I'm sure the boys'll survive without us every once in a while. Maybe starting this Sunday if you've got the day off from work?”

Yoongi nodded even as his expression looked thoughtful, hinting that he was mentally double-checking his schedule before he agreed, gummy smile the sweetest sight.

“I'm free. Maybe we can get some lunch and figure out what we wanna do after. Ever eaten at Seoul Food?”

“Oh yeah. Plenty of times. Mrs. Wan makes the best tteokbokki.”

“You've got good taste, Sweets.”

“I like to think so. I'm buying, by the way.”

“What? No. Come on. You've gotta let me treat you for a change.”

“No can do, Yoongi. I've gotta thank you for walking me home somehow.”

“The good company I've got with me is payment enough. I'd say the way you're blushing from me saying that is too, but that's more the perfect payback for embarrassing the fuck out of me earlier.”

Incredulous and yes, perhaps even a little warm in the cheeks, you gave him the tiniest shove, and he hardly faltered from it, chuckling as he flashed a grin brimming with smugness.

“I was just paying you honest compliments because you deserved them! And ha! Who's blushing now?”

“Oh, dammit! Would you stop doing that?!”

Yoongi shoved you right back, though with such gentleness that he jostled you even less than you'd jostled him, and even in spite of the color hot on his face he couldn't stop smiling. That seemed to be what the remainder of your journey might be filled with, casual conversation highlighted by laughter the closer you got to your apartment. Carrying on with Yoongi, feeling at ease and seeing him looking so relaxed with you, more so than he'd ever shown himself to be before, made you a little sad to know that home wasn't far. Making plans meant more moments to chat with him, learn more about him directly rather than through mutual friends, but the excitement of finally feeling like a distance had been crossed was a heady feeling. It made you forget the fatigue of having been on your feet at work for several hours, the customary aches you tended to feel after a shift barely even noticeable.

A cab pulled up alongside the curb just ahead, the door opening up to let out a passenger, and you'd not have paid any attention to it at all had the figure stepping out been a stranger, someone without a familiar face. It was one you never seemed to see enough of, so viewing in person it tended to make you smile straight away and given that Yoongi had ensured that one was already tugging at your lips, spying Wes just a few paces away simply made it wider.

“I thought that was you!” he called out, turning to bid goodbye to the cab driver, and then he was headed your way with the swift slam of a car door.

His suit still looked impeccable, hardly a wrinkle in sight, and you knew his embrace would feel amazing even when one of his hands was otherwise occupied in clutching the handle of his briefcase, your footfalls quickening towards him. An arm circled around the back of your shoulders, and Wes met your lips for the kiss your arched up to give him, short and sweet while also being a bit remorseful, just as they'd been for quite some time. There was an apology in it, one he meant to repeat with words no doubt, and you stemmed his need to say that he was sorry again by pressing a hand over his mouth, wanting him to see instead that you were just happy he was there at all. Given the fatigue he'd mentioned feeling as you'd been texting, it probably would've been preferable for him to have gone straight home instead of coming out of the way to crash at your place for the night. He'd done as much enough times in the past and you were typically understanding of that, sporadically prone to being bothered or grumpy instead when you'd had a rotten day. Like Wes, you were far from perfect or saintly, but trying was one thing you'd both become very good at. For the present evening, you were satisfied by focusing on the joy of his nearness than anything else, giving him another kiss when you'd been so missing signs of affection like them.

He was tired and so were you, so it was definite that other physical ways of expressing shared fondness would be off the table that night. It probably would have bothered you a bit more to think of another sexless night with him lying beside you had it not been for the fact that he'd be beside you at all, the lack of recent orgasms by any hands other than your own an issue that felt like a lesser concern compared to the mere want of having him close. Falling asleep while he held you and being held by him overall was the sort of intimacy you missed so much more than having him above and inside you. Sexual frustration was a thing, but not so bad as feeling touch-starved in general and you couldn't wait to just cuddle.

“I thought you were gonna get a cab, honey. When I left the office and you hadn't sent me another text, I figured you might've still been at work. I got worried when the cab drove by and all the lights were off at Lorenzo's.”

“Sorry. Yoongi showed up to walk me home and I got so distracted that it didn't cross my mind to text you about it. Oh! Yoongi!”

Turning from Wes, but not stepping away as he held you revealed that Yoongi had hung back, watching you with your boyfriend while his hands were buried deep into the pockets of his lengthy coat. The smile he'd been sporting had faded away completely, replaced with the nearly blank look of indifference that he wore so often and so well. Everything that you'd come to learn about him told you that his blasé expression was nothing to be worried about, Wes simply someone he didn't know at all. It made sense that he would retreat into his usual cool demeanor when he'd never met your boyfriend before, the lack of familiarity something making him feel inwardly more awkward than as quietly annoyed as he may have looked. It was up to you to take care of the introductions, to take the lead and hopefully make things easier on your friend, drawing Wes over to him where your beau about towered over the both of you. Yoongi had to glance up to make eye contact, his gaze revealing little of what he felt or thought, seeing it after what more you'd learned of him that night still making it seem reasonable to you that you'd had such trouble getting an initial feel for how he felt about you. Yoongi had the world's most potent poker face.

“This is my friend Yoongi, the one Jimin and Tae introduced me to a while back. Yoongi, this is my boyfriend, Wesley.”

“Nice to meet you, man. Thank you for walking her home tonight. I appreciate you looking after her like that.”

Wes extended his hand, his smile the same easily charming one that had warmed you to him quite quickly when you'd first met, and though Yoongi didn't return it, he did shake Wes' hand with a perfectly polite nod of his head.

“S'nothing. Wanted to make sure she made it back in one piece.”

“If she keeps making friends like you then I'll never have to worry about her when she works late.”

“Yeah. Me and the boys'll never let anything happen to her. She's pretty tough, though. Has plenty of sass.”

“That she does.”

Once their greeting handshake had ended, Wes let his arm stray around your waist, and he kissed your cheek, sounding pleased to agree that you could be the type to hurl a biting quip when the situation called for it. He may not have always liked that particular personality trait whenever it came out during a disagreement, but generally, he tended to admire that your tongue could be so sharp and clever whenever your usual sweetness melted away for one reason or another. Set to show further affection and even more appraising touches, Wes went in for another peck, attempt thwarted as he noticed along with you that Yoongi had started to take a step back. He looked ready to depart, shrugging his shoulders at the wide-eyed disappointment you showed him at seeing how quickly he intended to leave.

“If you've got it from here then I'm gonna head back. I've got a track that's been bugging the hell out of me the past week and I wanna work on it before I crash for the night.”

Maybe the creative energy he wanted to expend before bed was merely a good excuse for him to back away from the awkwardness of being around a mushy couple or just a stranger like Wes. It was also just as possible that he truly had too many ideas to ignore for the sake of having a lingering chat when there was a long walk back home ahead of him. If he wanted to leave, no matter the reason, it would've been rude of you to keep him, so you nodded rather than argued, not that your concern could be quieted before you let him go.

“From what I've heard that means you're gonna be up until the wee hours of the morning. Promise me you'll try not to stay up too late? And at least let me pay for a cab or something, so you don't have to walk back all the way by yourself.”

“Or let me pay for one,” Wes cut in, letting you go to start hunting for his wallet in the inside pocket of his blazer.

“Nah. I'm good.”

Yoongi held up his hands, already taking a couple more steps back, fully determined to refuse any further offers of cab fare or more. His eyes lingered on your face and a tiny smile chased away the stoic look of him, the warmth in it starting to become more familiar than the bland mask he'd put back on with Wes' arrival.

“You're buying on Sunday, right, Sweets? That'll be better a better way to pay me back then a cab ride.”

He finally turned away, waving goodbye without looking back.

“I'll try to be in bed by two or three!”

“You'd better!” you called out to his retreating form, watching him go, and you decided to message the boys about contacting you once Yoongi got home, positive he'd be too caught up and busy with his music to respond if you texted him directly to see if he got back all right.

With your blonde friend becoming a distant sight, you turned back into your boyfriend's waiting arms, letting him hold you as your journey towards home resumed. Wes let out a loud yawn, the way it held on stating his sleepiness clearly, and though you hadn't felt quite so tired before, the sound reminded you of just how ready you truly were for bed. Mounting weariness aside, you did want to test the waters before relenting to a night of only sleep ahead, figuring it couldn't hurt to be absolutely positive that sex was off the table.

“Still planning on falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow?”

“Yeah,” Wes agreed, yawning anew. “I'd pass out right here if I could. Feel like I'm running on fumes right now.”

Ah well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

-

It would've been an unachievable feat trying to forget the first time Wes had taken you to The Bean Box. First dates tended to stand out in your memories whether they were good, bad, or simply mediocre and that day nearly seven months ago had been one of the better ones. Back then, you hadn't really known if the handsome lawyer who had fumbled through asking you out would be someone you'd see long term, but you'd begun to hope for further days together after he'd treated you to a cup of coffee. It'd been a laid-back sort of date, nothing fancy or especially stressful, and that was how you liked them. Spending a few hours talking, learning more about one another over baked treats and warm beverages while the bill rotated with each round had ended up being one of the best first dates you'd ever had. Wes had been easy to talk to and laugh with, sweet in his gentle compliments and his polite efforts to refrain from being more touchy than you were comfortable with right away. Wanting a second date well before the first had ended wasn't always a common thing for you, but you'd asked Wes if he might want to see you again as soon as you stopped feeling able to resist the inquiry. That he'd agreed so enthusiastically had delighted you and after that first afternoon together, The Bean Box had become your default date spot. It felt like your place, one special and specific to your relationship.

Everything about it was familiar to you when you'd spent time there with such frequency, specifically during the earliest parts of your relationship. The table by the front windows was rarely ever empty, but it was a favorite spot to occupy while you talked and people watched, near to the checkout counter where the coffee fragrance was the most prevalent. The music the staff played tended to rotate based on whoever had control of the sound system, varying from classic 80s singles and more recent hip hop beats, the volume just low enough that your conversations were seldom overshadowed. It was always warm inside, but never uncomfortable, even during the recent summer season which had passed. Wes never held on to his jacket despite the even temperatures, draping it across the back of your chair so you could wrap yourself up in it when needed. You'd only ever done as much to get a closer breath of his familiar cologne instead of out of a genuine need for the added coziness. Every modern, industrial-themed inch of the establishment was like a well-known and well-loved face, comforting in how much the business symbolized your relationship.

How painfully fitting for it to act as the backdrop to everything coming to an end.

Wes refused to look you in the eye, his aversion to the sight of anything other than his own two hands, clasped together atop the table, made you wonder just what he expected he might see on your face. You supposed tears or anger may have been the anticipated reactions and it surprised you that you couldn't bring yourself to express either, at least not outwardly. Being brought to your regular date spot in order to be dumped wasn't what you'd been thinking to experience that day, but somehow it didn't feel like the immense shock you thought it should have been. The numbness of the moment left you calm even while the wrestling emotions locked in the pit of your stomach made themselves known, quieted by your attempts to understand the why of things, make clear sense of it all.

“I know you're never supposed to use that 'it's not you, it's me' excuse because it's largely bullshit and a cop-out way to get out of a relationship, but it's the truth, YN. You didn't do anything wrong and you weren't a bad girlfriend in any way. I just...”

He still couldn't look at you, explanation faltering as he dragged his half-finished cup of coffee closer to him. Wes lifted the paper cup to his mouth, but never took a drink, sighing above the rim and he set the steaming beverage down. His hands moved with an anxiousness that you knew meant you were about to be hurt by his reasoning, more than you were already aching from just knowing that he wanted to break up in the first place. When he finally found the courage in himself to look across the table at you it was with hazel eyes bearing hints of regret, already apologetic for the pain he could see he'd caused. It was similar to those remorseful looks of his which came after every argument, every time when he'd had to put work ahead of being with you, and the sight of it was instantly telling. You knew what he was going to say, knew you didn't want to hear a repurposed version of his usual way of saying he was sorry, but you braced yourself for it just the same.

“I've tried and I thought maybe I could do it, but I can't keep trying to balance how important my job is with being in a serious relationship right now. I need to keep my focus on my work and I know I'll just keep struggling and beating myself up about letting you down if we try to keep this going. It'd be different if I could feel sure that what we've had was likely to work long-term, but I don't think it will. I care about you so much and as wonderful as you are, I need something stronger than this if I'm gonna try to date somebody. I need something that feels like it could be a forever thing and I've been waiting to have that feeling with you, but I just haven't. I don't think I will and I can't keep pretending. I'm sorry, YN.”

There was never really an easy way to break up with someone. Ending a relationship, regardless of what kind, was trying and being the one to initiate the end carried a kind of weight that was never simple to bear. You knew that and you'd been in that position, so you could empathize with the situation that Wes was in while also fighting hard as you could not to give in to the temptation to call him whatever petty name your aching heart wanted you to. He was letting you down as gently as you supposed he could, but it didn't make it hurt any less and it certainly didn't stop you from thinking with no lack of bitterness how his insistence that it wasn't you was a lie. After all, how was it not you if he'd finally come to a conclusion after so many months that you weren't a long haul type of girlfriend? You carried the thought without blaming yourself or beating yourself for perceived imperfections, unable to shoulder the fault of it all on your own when the lack of things working meant a failure of mutual trying on both sides. Your mind and heart felt like a mess, hidden behind a somber look that could've given Yoongi and Tae a run for their money, whatever words you wanted or needed to say catching somewhere in your throat, trapped behind a fear that your feelings would tumble out with no filter if you did try to speak.

Wes waited for you to respond and you were incapable of imagining what he hoped you might say, the face you'd adored one you didn't want to look at any longer, roles suddenly reversed. When he reached across the table to cover one of your hands with his, trying to provide comfort, you weren't able to help yourself from pulling away from his touch. What you'd once longed for felt wrong, finding no solace in the brush of his fingers as you used to, and you heard him sigh, though not out of exasperation. It was a sound of relenting, giving up, and it made you wonder how long he'd been sitting on the want to walk away, wracking your brain over all the shaky moments in recent months which may have held some clue as to when his want to try had become so forced. Maybe knowing would only make things worse, make the sting burn deeper, but some masochistic part of you begged for whatever miserable answer he might provide.

“When did you know that you were done? How long has it been since you realized all of this?”

“A while. I think I was already starting to feel this way a little over a month ago...after we had that big fight. Even after we talked things out, started making promises to try harder, deep down part of me wondered if there was even that much point.”

“Why didn't you say something? We could've talked about it or ended this sooner, Wes.”

“I know and I'm sorry, honey. I really am.”

You were sick to death of the apologies, the genuine remorse in them instead feeling far too apathetic from your perspective, your judgment more and more clouded by your present hurting. Finally, you'd gotten to a breaking point of feeling well and truly done with hearing them, the severing of your relationship that last push for you to do away with attempted understanding or giving the benefit of the doubt. If Wes had been done for a while then he'd probably find relief in no longer having to feel guilty for things, needing to be freed from a relationship he viewed as a dead-end just as you needed to be away from him before you said something you might regret. You'd held strong and you intended to keep doing that, refusing to make a scene or spectacle of your heartbreak or his, provided he felt anything close to it.

“I need to go. I don't know what else there really is to say right now and I just...I have to go.”

Wes stood when he saw that you were getting up and you hoped that he wouldn't try to stop you, keep you there to continue a conversation that seemed to have come to a necessary conclusion. Maybe more things had to be said, more explanations and the like for the sake of closure, but you didn't want them yet. They seemed better sought when it all wasn't so miserably fresh, at a point when you felt able to be rational rather than bidding yourself to battle back the rudeness you would rather have unleashed. If your job had blessed you with anything, it was a knack for keeping in control when somebody had gotten on your bad side, not blowing your stack when it was tempting to do just that. Dealing with angry customers wasn't so very different from handling an ex-boyfriend, you supposed.

“Can I call you later? Tomorrow? If you need space then I understand, but if there's anything else you need to ask or want to say to me...”

“Maybe tomorrow or in a few days. I don't know. I just can't right now.”

“Okay. That's okay. I understand. I'm sor-”

“Don't, Wes,” you cut him off, a hand held up, lowered slowly when you saw how sad he looked over that small hint of your frustration. “I'll talk to you later.”

You weren't exactly sure that you would or if you even cared to. There was always an issue with breakups in trying to decide to navigate how your former lover might factor into your life once things were over, if they were better off out of it or if they had a place as a friend instead. Wes had been a man with clear romantic interest from the beginning, your relationship never a strictly platonic one, and you had no idea if you felt comfortable trying to keep him in your life with things ending as they had. If his job was one of the deciding factors in his wanting to break up then who was to say that he'd have time to hang out as just your friend? Truth be told, if he managed to be more readily available to see you when you weren't his girlfriend, it probably would've felt too damn much like pouring lemon juice on a fresh cut. It wasn't something you knew you'd be able to handle and you figured it'd be smarter to sort out how you hoped to go about keeping contact with him after you were out of the emotional danger zone.

Wes looked very much like he wanted to say something else, something other than goodbye when neither of you knew if it would be a temporary or permanent one. He started to lift his arms, to make the gesture one tended to make whenever they wanted to wordlessly request a hug, but he seemed to think it unwise, looking defeated as his hands dropped. You very nearly wanted to give in, hug him when you saw how mournful he looked, but you just couldn't do it, not when you felt just as sad inside. An embrace of parting rather than what was familiar or affectionate would've been too much to handle and you weren't going to let yourself break down yet, not until you were somewhere that felt comfortable enough to allow for that open vulnerability.

“Bye, Wes,” you mumbled as you moved by him, tugging on your jacket as you went, and the aroma of fresh coffee faded behind you as soon as the cafe door closed at your back.

It was a sunny enough day, but also a cold one and you felt the icy temperature seep through the tips of your fingers, making you long for the warmth of the hot drink you'd left behind on the table or a larger hand enveloping your own. Chilly weather tended to be great for making you want to stay inside, wrap yourself in warm blankets or warmer arms, and the weight of processing that your relationship had just ended only made those desires stronger. Going home to face your emotions alone was something you felt better equipped to handle later that night, closer to those pre-bed hours when you might seek a glass of wine to mellow you through your sorrows, drown them. Your understanding of how your emotions tended to work helped you to know pretty quickly when you wanted company after something upsetting and when you wanted to just be by yourself. The nature of your day and how shitty it was already going set your heart on seeking comfort, trying to decide where to go or who to turn to. The Bean Box was closer to work than home, but heading to Lorenzo's to bother your mom and dad while they were tending to the restaurant wouldn't work, turning to your parents better left for a visit to their apartment.

The boys' had never seemed to mind you venting to them about relationship woes, dropping by your place a number of times whenever Jimin had gone through a fail date or Tae a fling leading to nowhere. You weren't sure if any of them had it in their respective tanks to handle you being mopey and possibly on the verge of tears, so you knew better than to just show up without thinking of their feelings, whipping out your phone to see if they were okay with your need of them.

YN: Chim, are you guys up for company? My day just went to shit and I'd rather not be alone if that's cool with you.

Jimin was rarely the type to leave a text unanswered, but especially not one that hinted at any kind of distress, his sweet heart so open for the people he blessed with his friendship. You weren't surprised that he had a response for you in less than a minute, managing a smile at his swift reply, grateful for how wonderful he always was to you.

Jimin: Of course! What's going on? :(

YN: Wes and I just broke up. Still kinda processing it rn. Could definitely go for one of your hugs.

Jimin: Oh no! I'm really sorry, Sweets! I went with Tae to take Tannie for a grooming appointment, but we're gonna be heading back soon, so just head on over! If Yoongi isn't home to let you in then you can just use our door code! Need any comfort food or anything like that?

YN: You're an angel, Chim, but no. Just the company'll be more than enough. Thanks.

Jimin: Anytime. You know we're always here for you. Tae says he loves you and he's gonna bear hug you as soon as we get back.

YN: You guys are the best. Love you both.

A flurry of crying emojis and hearts flooded your text window, enough to make your eyes tear up even though you weren't quite ready to let all your emotions go yet. As unlucky as you may have been as far as romantic relationships went, you'd always been very blessed with the other bonds you had in your life and you had some of the loveliest friends in the world. Although Sarah and Ha-eun lived a few hours away, your chances to see them sporadic, your two high school pals were always great for encouraging you to let every emotion you felt out, insisting that expressing negative feelings was a valid part of trying to better yourself. The three of you had been giving each other advice and ranting about relationship troubles since your teens. Sometimes, you needed to verbally trash an ex without judgment, especially early into the aftermath of a breakup, and despite knowing that you'd eventually get past that initial craving for expending immature coping methods, the girls would help you get to a place of being able to put the bitterness behind you. Their monthly visits commonly consisted of equal parts revelry and heart to heart conversations, lives led far apart having done little to diminish how much you all cherished each other. It would be a good week before their next trip back home and you were glad it was so soon, hoping they wouldn't be too chuffed if you waited until near the end of their visit to let them know how your relationship status had changed. Telling them sooner would've just had Ha-eun, with her tendency towards impulsiveness, taking a train to see you when you really preferred her to make the most of the self-care time you knew she needed during her days off.

You may not have had the boys in your life for as long as your former schoolmates, but they meant just as much to you and could be just as steadfast. Happy or sad, their company was something you always looked forward to and it was why you all spent so much time together, their presence more common than Wes' had been in months. Realizing that fact anew only made the gloominess wound tight around you dig in deeper, causing you to focus on what you knew would be there once you got to your friends' apartment. Taehyung could be prone to his own unique eccentricities, a character as colorful as some of the clothing he liked to drape himself in, and it all made him so charming while also making it so easy to overlook the brilliance in him. He could be terribly introspective about things other people may not have, his wisdom soft and quiet, but as deeply soulful as the sound of his voice. The way he viewed the world allowed him to impart different colors into the view of others and you longed for his tenderness. With Jimin, he read every emotion so well and so clearly it was as if he could read emotions like text and he gravitated towards his loved ones when he gleaned anything negative coming from them. He lived for praise, but he just as much lived to give it, openly embracing those around him like he thought one of his hugs could transfer their sadness into himself instead. You were awed by the depth of his kindness every day, just the thought of being held in his arms making you want to be there as soon as possible.

Yoongi was newer to you still, but in the best way. Since you'd come to understand him, the quiet caring that filled him made you feel constantly at ease whenever he was nearby. He had a presence that provided a sense of safety, but also learning, growing. For all his professed struggles with saying the right thing at the right moment, fighting to express himself whenever it was outside of a song, his clear sort of insight had made you feel like a stronger person at times. Yoongi didn't mince words when they mattered, often saying what needed to be said and heard even when it was hard, but never with malice or never too harsh. He'd fought back demons and learned how to best them, made himself into a kinder overall person who always wanted to inspire strength in others. He empathized easily but also encouraged in a way that had allowed for you to breathe, take a step back, and see things a little clearer than rougher emotions might have initially let you. You always felt like you were thriving with Yoongi's advice and you knew you wanted to hear that calming, logical voice of his just as badly as you craved for someone else to tell you that your feelings were valid, no matter how ugly they presently were.

The number of their apartment was before you in no time, journey passing so fast when your thoughts were racing, emotions surging up like a series of massive waves close to crashing against the shore, leaving you to drown in them. You'd managed to hold it all off for longer than you would've thought possible, surprised that the tears only seemed to start once you were able to knock on their door, the promise of those familiar faces letting you shed the armor you'd been trying to wear. Wes had been left behind at the cafe, but the feelings you'd had for him that morning were still there, mingling with the new sorrow and anger that reminded you of the fact that you'd been dumped. You restlessly shuffled as you heard a dog barking through the door, eager to be out of the hall when tears were wetting your cheeks, hoping to be let inside before somebody else saw your heartbreak coming to the surface. It opened up to the sight of Yoongi and Holly, narrowed eyes widening in an immediate response to the state of you.

“Hey. Jimin said to just go ahead and come over even if he and Tae weren't home yet, so hi. Can I come in?”

“Are you kidding? Get in here, Sweets, holy shit.”

He kept Holly back with his leg, blocking his pet from darting off into the hallway, and he only let the pup dart around you once the door was shut. He hung back, giving you space to take off your shoes as you snuffled and whimpered, feeling Holly's wet nose and tongue against your cheeks as you bent to unzip your boots. You tried not to fall over as you attempted to pet him while off-balance, stepping out of one shoe and then the next, crouched to love on the attention-hunger animal. Now that you'd arrived somewhere closed off, comfortable enough for you to let everything out, receiving any type of affection was enough to make you want to cry harder, even just a few kisses from the precious poodle seeming to do you in.

“What happened?” Yoongi asked, the usual purr of his voice soft with concern.

“Wes and I broke up.”

You'd already supplied the information to Jimin, but the admittance hit you harder when spoken aloud rather than typing it on a phone screen, rising to stand as everything crumbled and you let out the first aching sob. It was the first time you'd ever cried in front of Yoongi and you couldn't work up any feelings of shame, too damn sad for the kind of embarrassment you supposed you may have ordinarily felt over weeping in front of a person for the first time. Venting to Yoongi on a bad day now and then was still different from outright crying before him, the urge to apologize if you were making him uncomfortable choked behind every noisy sniffle and each shuddering wail. You let it all out, though, couldn't hold it in a moment longer, looking through the wet blur of your vision to your friend as he moved in towards you. Yoongi's hands drifted to your arms, circling them slowly and gripping weakly to start pulling you close, almost ginger in how he bid you into the embrace he wanted to offer. His gentleness in trying to offer physical consolation allowed you to see that he wasn't certain if you were okay with being held by him, sussing out your boundaries in his quiet way, and when you accepted the nearness with zero hesitation, Yoongi let you cling to him. Hugs hadn't yet become a normal thing in your friendship, not when he had always seemed a little less touchy-feely compared to the boys, and you hated that the first embrace you were sharing was under such wretched circumstances.

It was doubly a shame when Yoongi held you exactly the way you needed to be, firm and warm yet not too tight, still so very soft. The arm he'd slipped around your back kept you pressed against his body, making you feel stabilized and protected despite falling totally apart. There was no tension in him, no sign that your wet cheek against his neck and your tears falling on the collar of his t-shirt bothered him, the hand petting your hair feeling like encouragement to just cry for as long as you needed to do so.

“I'm here, Sweets. I've got you. It's gonna be okay.”

Of course, you knew it all would be, that you'd recover and be fine, but the when of that happening was uncertain and it may as well have been months away for how bad you felt when the breakup had only just occurred. It didn't stop Yoongi's whispers from being welcome, the low timbre of his voice one type of comfort you'd hoped for. He only spoke every few moments, mumbled words to console you as you cried rather than attempting to shush you, providing you all the time you needed to cry yourself out until the first release of turbulent emotions had abated on its own. You were in one hell of a sorry state, but half-way through all the tears and weeping you realized that you felt a little relieved, just a tiny bit better for having popped the proverbial cork of your temporarily bottled feelings. It sucked not being able to breathe through your nose and your face felt like a gross nightmare, but you knew that the combination of being held and letting your feelings fly free would do wonders. Yoongi didn't let you go right away when he noticed that you'd begun to quiet, whimpering with less frequency, possibly wary of releasing you before you were ready to stop being held. He could have kept you in his arms all day truthfully, but you didn't much want to keep clinging to him when you desperately wanted to dry your eyes and clear your nostrils. When you started to pull away from him, Yoongi moved his hands to your shoulders, kneading a little as he searched your tear-streaked visage, eyes terribly concerned.

“Do you have any tissues, Yoongi?”

“Yeah. Come on. Let's go sit.”

He scooped Holly up from the floor, tucking his tiny pooch under one arm as he headed to the couch, passing the brown critter to you the second you'd taken a seat, perhaps knowing that cuddling him would help soothe you further. Holly laid down right next to you, setting his front paws and his chin upon your thigh, round eyes staring up at you with the easy adoration that only an animal could give. You had to pet his soft fur, console him when he almost looked sad to see you so down, managing to work a smile onto your face, one you eventually directed at Yoongi when he sat down at your side. It was unusual for him to join you on the couch, his chair where he liked to be perched whenever everybody congregated in the living room, but you welcomed having him so near. There'd been a box of tissues on the coffee table, passed into your waiting hands, and you were glad they happened to be the type with lotion and aloe, nose having some hope of being less sore from the inevitable blowing you had to deal with. You didn't expect to be able to breathe clearly for at least a few hours, more crying sure to be just around the corner, but it was some relief for your face to be a little drier in the meantime.

Yoongi let you focus on tidying yourself up, turning his body so he could sit facing you, one leg drawn up onto the couch. He'd been wearing a black beanie before you'd shown up, blonde hair hidden underneath the knit material to clearly expose his face, and it helped to draw further attention to his strong brows and sharp eyes. The array of earrings he usually had on were absent, pieced lobes bare, and even the rings he wore on the regular were nowhere to be seen, making him look about as comfortably at home as he ever had. The lack of clear tiredness in his gaze gave you hope that he hadn't been trying to nap when you'd come knocking and if he'd been working on anything important, he seemed fine with letting it fall temporarily to the wayside for the sake of being there for you when you needed it.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” he asked eventually, query telling you that he was definitely as worried as he looked, and just the thought of explaining things had your throat tightening with emotion.

You took as slow and calming a breath as you could, persuading yourself to give him details without giving in to another burst of tears. The feeling wasn't so intense that you thought it might be a battle to remain placid, the initial outpouring of your emotions having done the trick in leveling you out some, but you were still a far cry from being fine. If anything, you were nearing that disquieting bitterness more than you were the gloomier parts of your shifting disposition.

“He said he hadn't been feeling the relationship for a while. Trying to balance being with me and focusing on his job just got to be too much. He cares about me and all, but he just didn't think our relationship was 'the one' or anything.”

“I knew that you guys were having trouble and all that, but I thought you two were sorting things out.”

“So did I. We kept talking about trying harder to make things work and I thought we were getting it figured out. I was really trying to be better about not giving Wes so much hell for being busy and he really seemed like he was making that effort to make more time for me lately. I guess he wanted out that whole time.”

Your body felt bogged down, tense, and aching from your crying spell. Reclining in your seat felt a little more comfortable and you let your head tilt back, glancing towards the ceiling like there might be some surefire answer up there as to what you could have or should have done to prevent things from ending as they had. Unfortunately, nothing seemed especially clear other than the fact that things had probably always been doomed, whether it was as a result of you and Wes truly being incompatible in the end or due to simple circumstances.

“Seven months...we were together for almost seven months...God, how did it last that long? I thought it was going somewhere and now I just wonder how the hell I was able to think it could be something when this is how it ended. What the fuck?”

Were you mad at Wes, yourself, or equally angry at both? What were you most infuriated about in the first place? Maybe deep down you'd actually had an inkling that things were never going to pan out with Wes. You'd spent more time apart or arguing in the latter half of your relationship than you ever had together, even when there'd seemed to be some semblance of hope that things were on their way to getting better again. Perhaps you'd been too busy convincing yourself that everything wrong was just a rough patch when it'd been a giant red flag waving in the air, trying to clue you in to the fact that you were on a ship that'd been sinking slowly for quite some time.

“I feel really stupid, Yoongi. I hate that this hurts so much. I should've seen this coming, but I don't think I wanted to and it's bugging the hell out of me. I mean, seven months together and I wasn't able to say that I was in love with him. In all that time, you'd think I would've gotten to that point. It probably would've been normal after that long, but I wasn't there yet. I know it usually takes me a while to fall for someone, really fall for them, but I should've known and I just...I didn't think about it that much. I thought it was just a matter of time before I got there. I honestly didn't really think it even mattered, because I really liked him, you know? I cared about him so much and I still do. God, I'm not even making sense.”

“Sounds like you're making plenty of sense to me, Sweets. You date someone, you have a good feeling about them, and you wanna see where it's gonna go. There's not a time limit for falling in love with someone before a relationship expires. It's not like buying meat at the grocery store. You liked the guy, you wanted to make things work because you liked the guy, and he called it quits, so you're hurting. You're allowed to feel sad, pissed off, and a bunch of other things after something like this happens.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Complicated feelings are all normal. I'm probably going to flip flop between missing him and hating him and not being sure what I feel for a while.”

You knew you still had months of text messages on your phone, visual proof of the affection you'd shared, and the fights you'd had. Your social media accounts contained a record of Wes' lengthy and yet still so brief stint in your life, filled with pictures of the two of you together. He'd left a few pieces of clothing at your apartment and memories in your mind, good and bad alike. Every relationship took a fragment of your heart forever, carved out a place in your life despite being temporary, sure to heal with enough time while always leaving its own unique mark. Wes wasn't the first boyfriend you'd ever had and you couldn't be positive how many other lovers you'd have in your future, but knowing at present that he wasn't the one for you didn't make having to come to terms with that fact any less hard. The way things had gone wrong and been wrong did nothing to negate his impact on you, the memories you knew you'd always have, and as you sat on things, thoughts rolling through your brain, you couldn't help getting stuck on one returning path your mind kept turning to.

“I know Wes didn't mean to hurt me. I think this is hard on him in a completely different way and maybe I'll care about that less when I get to that 'I hate him' phase of the breakup routine, but you know what really sucks?”

“What?”

“Even if things were kind of a mess and strained and we were fucking it up...even though I wasn't in love with him yet, it really fucking hurts so damn much that he knew for a while that he was never going to see me as the one. I don't know if or when I would've fallen in love with him, so maybe this is really hypocritical and unfair, but it kills me that he stuck it out when he deep down didn't think I was gonna be it. What part of me wasn't right? Does he need a girl who'll never fuss about wanting to spend more time with him? Was me wanting us to actually be together every once in a while his breaking point or was it something else? I know it doesn't matter and I shouldn't start trying to pick myself apart for not being good enough for a guy who already gave up on me, but I can't stop trying to sort out if there was something wrong with me.”

It felt pathetic to have that sense of confidence being shattered over a guy and you quickly grew tired of how whiny you thought you sounded. Rationalizing the normalcy of struggling with those thoughts in the wake of a break up didn't make it easier to not cringe over airing them out, the zigzagging pattern of your responses and the way you were thinking starting to feel like emotional whiplash. Fresh tears felt ready to well up, wet your already damp lashes, and you started dabbing them away with the heel of your palm.

“I stuck it out for a guy who ultimately didn't think I was worth the effort.”

When Yoongi took hold of your hand, it caught you by surprise just because you weren't really used to him touching you very often. It made perfect sense given the circumstances, especially after he'd held you a few minutes ago, but the newness of his long fingers cradling your palm in such a delicate manner had your attention completely. He didn't let go, gazing at you with the softest look in his eyes, and it was as gentle as his hand was warm.

“If he thought that at all then he's a fucking idiot, Sweets. I don't really know Wes and to be completely honest, I don't much care to after seeing you like this. Maybe he's not a bad guy. I can't make that call without being totally biased. Hell, knowing what he wants and needs doesn't make him evil or anything and it's better to end things instead of stringing somebody who might be more invested along. But, he should've known the second he decided to ask you out that relationships are work, even at their best, and if he always had an idea that his job might make being with someone hard then it was shit of him to ask you out in the first place. If he wasn't gonna be able to put in the time and the work that you were more than willing to then that was his damn mistake. Letting things keep going if he'd already checked out of the relationship wasn't gonna do you any favors and he should've understood that.”

His other hand came to envelop the one he already held and it almost felt as protective as it was kind, sweeter than the bite of anger which tinged his words. It was clear how much Yoongi hated to see you hurting, realizing that it wasn't entirely odd for him to be a little incensed on your behalf when he was the same guy who'd punched a dude out to get you out of a potentially dangerous situation. If he'd let a fist fly for a stranger then of course he'd have a few choice words about a friend's ex-boyfriend. What truly amazed you was how he could be so stern while also being just as tender at the same time.

“Don't beat yourself up over him or let him make you feel like you weren't worth it. Somebody who has you should be able to see that you're worth every single second they're lucky enough to be with you. So what if he didn't think you were gonna be the one someday? That's gonna be his loss in the long run and maybe he'll figure that out. If he doesn't then he's an even bigger idiot then I think he is, because you, Sweets? You're kind of amazing. Go ahead and cry if you still have that in you. Get angry instead if that's what feels right, but don't waste another minute thinking that you screwed up just because you tried to make something work with the wrong guy. You deserve a hell of a lot more than that and definitely more than what he gave you.”

Holly pressed his snout against your joined hands, chasing away Yoongi's touch so he could receive the attention he seemed to want. You missed it when his grasp went away, usually a touchy person whenever it came to people you were tight with, and you'd grown incredibly comfortable with Yoongi. If he felt like it'd been enough touching, though, then you wouldn't seek more out of your own sense of need, smiling weakly as you stroked Holly's curls.

“Next time around, Sweets, somebody is gonna wanna be with you and they're not gonna struggle with that, not the way Wes did. Somebody's gonna cherish you the way you ought to be once you're ready and I hope you figure out before that happens that you're more amazing then you might be feeling at this moment.”

Validation when you'd been knocked down, hitting a low point, made a world of difference and you breathed in Yoongi's praise and reassurances like they could heal you from the inside out. Your confidence had taken a mild beating after what Wes had told you, but you knew it would be all right again once you got through the aftermath of things. Self-doubt was as common after a breakup as changing your relationship status on social media sites, but it wouldn't be a forever feeling. None of what you were going through for now would last and just as Yoongi said, you'd pull right through. When your heart had mending to do, praise was something you felt greedy for and hearing compliments coming from people who thought you were special could truly jump-start the recovery process. Yoongi wasn't one to hold back when he wanted to make someone feel good about themselves, but he didn't give compliments in excess, seeming to prefer to give them when they were most needed. He'd managed to lift a frown from Taehyung's face on a terrible day with just a few words like he could speak miracles, and you supposed part of the power of it all was how genuine everyone knew it was whenever Yoongi had something appraising to pass on. He usually meant thing things he said, good or bad, so you knew he wasn't merely telling you what you would've liked to hear. He was just saying what he thought at the best possible time.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I can't promise I'm not gonna end up crying again or get really ticked off in a little while.”

“That's all fine. Feel what you feel, express it how you need to. Hell, maybe after a while we can sit down and I can help you write one of those scathing as hell break up songs. That might make you feel really good.”

The thought of Yoongi dictating your thoughts into an absolutely lethal diss track made you laugh and you had to admit that the idea had a lot of merit. You knew fuck all about making music, but Yoongi was a pro and by his own admission, the right song could help a great deal. That was why so many people listened to sad ballads or triumphant post-relationship moving on bangers. Catharsis through lyrics didn't sound half bad.

“As long as we keep it between us.”

“The only dirty laundry I'll ever share outside of my room is my own, so no worries. Before we start trying any music therapy, I say we eat something. There's nothing quite like some spicy kimchi stew and a little whiskey after getting dumped to really get you feeling a little lighter. Sound good?”

You'd only recently gotten to try his cooking for the first time and though it hadn't been his apparently well-loved stew, it became clear as could be that Yoongi was no slouch in the kitchen. Everything he was doing for you, from the hug to the listening and now to the promise of a good meal, had your temporarily mangled heart feeling a little less sore and sick. The caring you'd wanted from Wes and no longer had mixed up with the welcome affection you were receiving from your friend, making you rub more tears from your face even while you smiled thankfully.

“Yeah. Sounds really great. I'll chop the onions for you, okay? I'm already crying anyway, so what's the harm in some extra tears for the sake of dinner?”

“You're my hero, Sweets. They're delicious, but god, I hate chopping those smelly little fuckers.”

He got up, moving Holly from the couch to the floor, angling his hair in the direction of his chair.

“I need to make sure we actually have all the ingredients we need first. Why don't you curl up in my chair with Holly for a bit and just relax until I actually need a hand?”

In the few months you'd known of him, even before knowing him directly, you'd always been privy to the fact that Yoongi's chair was a no-fly zone for asses other than his. Taehyung had taken a seat on it one time and he'd only lasted a few seconds before he'd moved to the couch, swearing Yoongi would somehow know if anybody else had made use of his most sacred of furniture items. It was your understanding that he'd never relinquished his seat to another person and his offer was surprising enough that you almost didn't believe you'd heard him right.

“Go on. Trust me, it's a million times more comfortable than the couch.”

If he was a serpent offering an apple then you were definitely on your way to getting yourself kicked out of the Garden of Eden, the curiosity and temptation making his offer impossible to refuse. You got up and moved around him, slowly lowering your bottom into the seat of the overstuffed gray armchair, feeling your body sink right into the cushions. The chair could've been old as hell for as long as Yoongi may have owned it, but it didn't feel worn down by time nor did it feel as stiff as a newer chair could, just the right amount of soft yet supportive. You let your body sag into the seat, legs stretching out before you, and you realized right off the bat why he coveted the damn thing so much. You would've been possessive as hell too if you had an armchair that felt as if it'd been crafted for the gods, not even budging when Holly jumped up into your lap for further cuddling.

“Told you,” he said, voice as perfectly smug as his grin.

“Yeah. You weren't joking.”

The keypad lock clicked quite suddenly and the sound had Holly rocketing off of your lap despite having just settled there, racing to the front door to bless out the intruders with his barks. There was no real aggression to the sound, excitement lacing the noise and the way he danced about as the door opened up, the fluffy scurry of Yeontan's black and tan body rushing in to join his equally noisy companion. Taehyung appeared first, just behind his dog, leaving the canine cohorts to run about as they liked, and he headed right to you the second his eyes registered your presence. Jimin was right there with him, a few steps back, his voice gently calling your name in worry. Your eyes grew wet as they came towards you, crying anew as Tae lowered to his knees to wrap his arms around your waist, leaving Jimin the space to hug around your shoulders as they both piled onto you. Rather than feeling suffocated or squished, you felt soothed enough for the next round of inevitable sobbing, their immediate care bringing you right back to the stronger hurting you were still experiencing, reliving your recent break up all over again.

“You'll be okay, Sweets. We're here for you.”

“I'm sorry. We love you so much.”

The outpouring of warmth and love from the boys as you wept made the pain easier to bear, your arms tightening around them to embrace the young men you treasured just a little bit tighter. The weight of them and the weight of your own wrestled heartbreak overwhelmed you, both in good ways and in bad yet above all else you wanted to hold on to the little bit of happiness to be found in having such wonderful friends there with you.

Past the boys, beyond the veil of tears creating a clear, wavering sheen of wet in your view, you saw Yoongi watching from the kitchen and even though he wasn't physically close, for now, you were so grateful that he was there.

You hoped he was right.

You hoped, as soon as you were ready, that you'd find the person who thought being with you was worth it.