Chapter Text
Yoongi doesn’t like parties very much.
It’s not anyone’s fault, really, it’s more of a personal preference. The tenants of the building are more than welcoming, and he just happens to be a bit more introverted than others. So while his roommate mingles with the other tenants, laughing and joking around, Yoongi sits at a table at the far right with a plateful of food, observing others as he eats.
He spots you chatting away with the tenants who live on the other side of the same floor, smiling and nodding at their words, occasionally laughing. Yoongi purses his lips, averts his gaze, and takes a huge bite out of a leg of lamb. He scrolls through the contents of his phone lazily, wishing more than ever to just get up and leave, but the secret santa reveal won’t be for yet another hour. He considers texting Hoseok, but remembers that he had plans for the night, and would be away from his phone until tomorrow morning.
Well, at least he has food, and he managed to slip away from the festivities earlier to fetch his notebook and pencil.
Flipping through the notebook, he notices a little doodle at the bottom right corner of a page— one that he has never seen before. It was a drawing of a puppy, and a speech bubble which read, “Knock ‘em dead, agust d!” Yoongi chuckles, tracing the outline of the puppy with his finger.
It had to be you who drew this while he was asleep the night the two of you were out in the hallway. Yoongi glances around the room, and his breath hitches in his throat when he catches your gaze. You smile and wave, before yet another person initiates conversation with you, and you’re whisked away by women who seem to have many thoughts on the uses of aloe vera. He sighs, looking at his notebook once again, scribbling notes at the side and annotating the lyrics carefully penned down that night.
As he goes through the pages, he finds traces of what happened that night. Tiny games of hangman littering the margins of the page, mind maps revolving around the topic of acorns — even Yoongi himself doesn’t know what the context of this was — and scribbles of “agust d sux” and “u succ b” were found in the pages. It was almost like a dream, that night. The world stood still for the two of you, and resumed its usual pace when the sun rose once again.
“Alright,” he hears the emcee say. “Come on over to the gifts table, because we are going to give our secret santa gifts!”
Everyone heads towards the table filled with gifts of all shapes and sizes, and all are wrapped in brightly coloured wrapping paper. Yoongi cranes his neck to find his roommate, but she is nowhere to be seen amongst the crowds. He does find you, though, squashed against a wall several rows in front of him. He jostles his way through the crowd, manoeuvring and squeezing to get to you. You’re taken by surprise when you see him, but your soft smile puts him at ease.
“Do you feel the Christmas spirit in your veins yet?” He asks, and you laugh, taking a sip from your cup.
“More like feeling everyone’s sweat being absorbed my skin.”
“That’s just disgusting.”
“That’s crowds for you.”
The two of you are silent as the emcee continues to speak, explaining how the gift exchange will work, with the person who receives their gift from their secret santa proceed to give their gift to their allocated recipient. Laughter and gasps are heard as gifts are exchanged, some hugging each other, and others holding their presents closely to them. Yoongi watches a woman approach the two of you, and he notices your disappointed look when she gives you your present.
“Thank you so much,” you beam, but the dismay in your eyes does not go unnoticed by him. He watches you make your way to the table, asking the emcee to help you carry what you got for your secret santa. His eyes widen when you make your way to him, and you set it down gently before him.
“Merry Christmas,” you grin.
~
After all the gifts have been exchanged, the two of you carry the huge present down to the hallway outside your apartments. You gesture to it eagerly, and Yoongi tears off the wrapping to reveal:
“A speaker?” He says in disbelief. “Didn’t you want me to keep it down by using headphones instead of blasting my music out loud?”
You shrug. “Yeah, but after awhile I figured that I would be able to hear your new song before anyone else if you play it on the speakers. And if you’re gonna play music, at least use better quality speakers, right?”
He laughs, and without thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. He feels your arms wrapping around his waist, and his grip on you tightens.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I mean it.”
When he pulls away, a light blush has already settled on your cheeks, and he pinches your cheeks lightly. You swat his hands away playfully, and the two of you exchange smiles.
Yoongi rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present… Would you be alright with a tour of the Genius Lab?”
You snort. “Genius Lab? What kind of narcissistic name is that?”
“It’s where all the magic happens.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine you getting some anyway.”
He scoffs, pretending to be offended, but the playful glint in his eyes continues to linger. “I’ll have you know that I am very skilled with my tongue, according to the gents and ladies. Anyway, last call: do you want to visit your favourite artist’s studio or not? We could hook up the speaker and play trashy music.”
“Could you perform Tony Montana live for me instead?”
“You ask for too much.”
~
The year quickly ends with Yoongi finishing up the last bit of melody for his new song, working into the ungodly hours of the night just to figure out which chord was a better fit for a particular lyric. Sometimes he would hear the closing of your front door, and soft R&B music play from his studio. He never does anything about it, but during the times when he’s playing music out loud, you’d text him, requesting for various songs to be played.
The new year comes by, but Yoongi doesn’t see you until a week later.
He’s just locking up his apartment, getting ready to go for a night full of drinks with Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin when he sees you trudging down the hall miserably. You’re drenched completely from the rain outside, your broken umbrella in your hand gives Yoongi the answer to why, and your fist is clenched. He may be exaggerating, but this is the worst he has seen you in days. Your dark eye circles are prominent, and your bag — covered by your jacket — looks way too bulky for it to be normal.
You don’t even acknowledge him as you attempt to jam your key into the lock, letting out a groan of frustration when it doesn’t fit properly.
“Here, let me do it,” Yoongi says, gently easing the key out of your hand when you slap it away. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s shocked by your actions.
“Leave me alone,” you glare at him. “I can do it myself.”
You forcefully shove the key into the lock and unlock it, and you don’t bother saying goodbye when you slam the door shut. Yoongi lingers outside your door for a moment, and he hears the thump from your bag hitting the ground, and a scream.
He heads back into his apartment, quickly shooting a text to Hoseok to apologise for not coming later. He enters his studio, shrugging off his jacket and immediately hooking up his speakers to his microphone and computer. If he couldn’t talk to you face to face, then maybe you’d be able to feel his support from here.
He presses play.
Today was a hard day, wasn’t it?
“I don’t normally listen to slower paced songs,” Yoongi says into the mic, “but I can’t seem to get this one out of my head. And I blame you for that.”
His phone emits a soft ‘ping’, and he glances at it.
- bunny slippers: thank you
He smiles softly, and when the song ends, he speaks into the mic, “If you need to talk, you can always talk to me. Who knows, I might even perform Tony Montana live for you.”
There’s a long pause, and Yoongi thinks he’s crossed a line. After all, who was he to act like he knew you when your relationship with him consisted only of a mutual love for music and overly obnoxious songs used to annoy you? Besides, he hadn’t seen you since the night of the party, so who was he to suddenly barge in and act like a source of comfort for you?
His phone sounds once again.
- bunny slippers: door’s unlocked. i look like a mess tho
Yoongi wastes no time in switching off his equipment, turning off the light to his studio and locking the apartment door behind him. He knocks on front door before opening it, and he sees you sitting at the breakfast counter, taking a huge gulp of beer. You open a new bottle and hand it to him, and he accepts it, sliding into the seat opposite you.
The two of you don’t say anything as you drink your drinks.
“Stupid magazine internship,” you mutter after awhile. “They’re making me do all the work for them. And I know that it’s all a learning experience or whatever, but I end up taking the blame for work that isn’t supposed to be mine in the first place? Anyway, real shitty day at work, and then it was pouring heavily and my umbrella broke… I guess it truly was a hard day after all.”
You laugh bitterly. Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, and he cups his hand over yours. The suddenly movement takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t take you long to get used to the warmth from his hand. His grip on your hand tightens when he sees tears starting to form around your eyes, and he lets you cry freely. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time you sob, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin as a form of consolation.
He slips his fingers with yours, intertwining them, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He lets go of your hand briefly to walk over to you, pulling you into a hug, to which you accept gratefully. Yoongi strokes your hair in silence, and when you pull away, he presses his lips against your forehead lightly. He brushes away the tears on your cheeks, and mumbles, “Take a hot shower and change into dry clothes. You don’t want to get a cold.”
You nod, and he releases his grip on you and watch you walk to the bathroom. He clears the two bottles of beer, picking up your jacket and placing it into the washing machine. Yoongi checks his phone, and decides on ordering in.
When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Yoongi’s waiting on the couch, flipping through magazines. You place your clothes into the washing machine and start it, while Yoongi turns to look at you.
“I, uh, ordered fried chicken as a snack,” he tells you. “I figured you’d be hungry.”
He relaxes when he sees a ghost of a smile on your lips. “Fried chicken as a snack?”
“It’s a bit late for dinner, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
You settle onto the couch next to him, propping your feet up. “You know, I wanted to be a designer for a magazine, arranging the layouts and stuff to capture the reader’s attention. Too bad all I’ve been doing are writing articles on things like which photocopier is better for the home.”
Yoongi lets out a laugh. “Sounds fun.”
The two of you end up chattering about the most random of things, with you giggling when the doorbell rings and Yoongi jumps up, going, “Snacks are here!”
Munching on crispy fried chicken while discussing various inspirations towards each other’s craft, with you asking about his process of creating music and him musing over the designs you’ve done over the years. Talking late into the night, the bucket of fried chicken is filled with nothing but bones and used serviettes, and the two of you are huddled around your laptop, listening to music while scrolling through cover art for different albums. You manage to get Yoongi to perform Tony Montana live — to be fair, he did offer — clapping wildly when he finishes, to which he milks your applause for all its worth.
~
“Would it be weird if I told you I liked you?” He blurts when you leave the couch to get a cup of water.
You pause. “Like as in…”
“A romantic way.”
“I’d be really happy if you did.”
Yoongi turns to look at you, whose cheeks are flushed. He goes over to you, and he holds your hands.
“Well then…” He starts, taking a deep breath. “I like you in a romantic way.”
“I like you in a romantic way too.”
END.