Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

yoongi wakes up in the middle of the night with a terrible hacking cough that shakes his entire body. his chest feels tight, as if his bones were attempting to expand around his lungs and break through his skin.

another wave of coughs hits him just as he's sitting up in bed to catch his breath; this time, when he looks down at his lap, there is a smattering of petals across his comforter. they are small and come by fours, the softest purple color against his white sheets.

yoongi's first immediate thought is who the fuck..?

but then a voice calls out to him from the bunk next to his, the sound of rustling sheets almost drowning out seokjin's drowsy you okay, yoongi-yah? should i go grab you a glass of water? and yoongi's second immediate thought is oh... yeah. who the fuck else?

he's quick to sweep the flurry of petals under his covers, stifling another cough as much as he can before replying with a quick, "no no, hyung. don't worry about it. i'll get it myself, you go back to sleep."

"okay, if you're sure."

yoongi doesn't bother answering. he's already halfway down his bunk ladder, a handful of petals clenched in each fist. he makes sure to grab his phone on his way out the bedroom door.

first thing he does after locking himself in the bathroom is flush the evidence down the goddamn toilet. goodbye. the second thing he does is cough up another fucking bouquet it feels like, right into the waiting bowl. take two, goodbye again. forever.

the third thing he does, is call his brother.

it automatically goes to voicemail, which yoongi had been both expecting and hoping for. he was in no real state to talk about this shitty situation at the moment.

"hyung," he starts, once the phone beeps and starts recording. "remember that safe box i gave you to hold onto before i left home? it's full of cash, and i don't want to get into it right now, but - i need it." yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i know there's a lock on it, but just. i don't know. take a hammer to it, i don't care. just do me a favor and deposit that for me, and then wire it to my account as soon as possible. i'll call you again tomorrow, but. please, hyung. and thank you."

before going back to bed, yoongi looks up the type of petals he's been stuck with - there are dedicated sites for this kind of thing, so it's relatively easy - and laughs himself into another coughing fit.

if he's guessed correctly, his petals belonged to the lilac flower. and in the language of these things, they were indicative of First Love. no shit.

in the morning, he wastes no time in making an appointment, and two weeks later goes in for surgery, making some excuse to the company about a family emergency he needed to attend to out of town. he comes out feeling lighter... a bit empty, but the doctor said that would wear off in a few days. for now though, he's content.

and when he looks over at seokjin during practice, all he sees is his hyung. good.

but then he starts coughing again.

the petals are larger, a brighter purple. they feel like velvet in his shaking hands; it's a year later, and yoongi really should have seen it coming, with all the goddamn love songs he'd been writing lately. but here he is, all the same. coughing up flowers again.

and he wants to be mad at seokjin about it, but he can't. because he's in love with the oblivious asshole.

so he scrounges together whatever money he has at hand - not much - and asks his brother to cover the rest on a loan -- with interest! his brother insists, but yoongi knows he won't cash in on it.

then he goes to get the surgery again, hoping it would stick this time.

spoilers: it doesn't.

not even a full year later this time and yoongi is coughing up again, more than ever before. what's more, he recognizes these flowers right away, no internet search necessary; beolgaemichwi, his mother would call them, if he remembers correctly. they used to grow wild in the overgrown vacant lot down the street from his childhood home, probably still do. yoongi never expected to see them again here, thin petals stuck together in wet clumps, splattered across the shallow basin of the dorm's bathroom sink.

he sighs, and washes them down the drain.

this shit was starting to get a bit annoying. and yeah, logically, he thinks maybe the surgeries aren't working because he keeps going to the cheapest clinics. that sounds legit enough. so this time, he takes his problems straight to the motherfucking top. makes an appointment with bang pd-nim and tells him what's been up.

and because bangtan is finally starting to gain real momentum with the public - i need u was doing better than any of them could have even thought to hope for, and seokjin was looking as soft and beautiful as ever - the company is quick to send him to the best doctor their money can find.

a doctor who tells him unequivocally that nope, cheap or not, if flowers continued growing in yoongi's chest, he couldn't put the blame on a faulty surgery. this was all on him.

perhaps we can consider this a case of perpetual proximity? the doctor suggests, tone apologetic. and yoongi wants to scream.

because there's nothing he can do about that, now can he? yoongi knows it and so does everyone else. bang pd gives him a pitying look of his own, and just tells him to handle it -- whatever yoongi felt he needed to do, the company would support him, but only so long as he made sure to handle it before his health got any worse.

so after that last fancy surgery, yoongi comes up with a plan. doesn't even wait for the flowers to come back, because he knows that they will sooner or later. and in the meantime, he starts to woo kim seokjin.

-

yoongi is... embarrassingly bad at it, doesn't know what the actual fuck he's doing most of the time. but he's desperate. and he has no other options.

leaving the group is out of the question, and the doctor had strongly advised against any more surgeries in the near future. so all yoongi can really think to do, is this; despite his best efforts, all of his initial attempts at flirtation fall hilariously flat. seokjin doesn't swoon at yoongi's stuttered pick up lines, so much as he just laughs. hard. as if yoongi were making a funny joke, and not earnestly trying to make seokjin fall in love with him.

he decides to try a different tactic, something not as direct perhaps. and like most other times he needs help, yoongi goes to the internet.

all the articles he keeps finding pretty much just tell him variations of the same things, though:

• 01. smile more - a good smile is your best accessory!
• 02. laugh at his jokes... and make some of your own!
• 03. don't hide yourself away, let him know you're available!
• 04. ask for his help with things, men like to feel useful!
• 05. talk about your hobbies - show him how interesting you are!
• 06. dress for him... not your friends!
• 07. it's always a good idea to smell nice~!
• 08. make lots of eye contact, men find confidence attractive!
• 09. don't forget to relax -- stress leads to breakouts!
• 10. and at the end of the day… just be yourself!

most sounded either painfully obvious or flat-out ridiculous, yoongi thinks, while the rest were easier said than done. but he had to at least give them a try.

-

so he smiles more, mirroring seokjin's bright grins and returning his conspiratory smirks. and when seokjin inevitably makes another one of his terrible puns, yoongi allows himself to laugh instead of swallowing his amusement like he used to. he's completely let go of his cool guy concept around seokjin, and it felt kinda. nice, actually.

and even though yoongi isn't nearly as naturally funny as seokjin, or any of the other members, he's been with this same group of people for long enough now to know what will get a laugh. what will make seokjin laugh, specifically -- and he does laugh, so fucking much. no matter how shitty yoongi's joke or gag, seokjin would always laugh or chuckle or giggle sweetly, without fail. and yoongi would smile back at him, pleased, because apparently he did that now. smiling at seokjin. that was nice, as well.

but it wasn't enough to just be lighter, though. and now that yoongi's begun to let himself be more free with his expressions and emotions, it was time to get a bit heavy. so he moves on to the next phase.

not that it isn't still a bit difficult, to stop hiding away. especially during a time like this, when they were all working hard preparing for the next album. but maybe, yoongi has a solution to that as well, invites seokjin to his studio and asks if he'd like to listen to some of what yoongi's been working on. and when seokjin gushes about yoongi's talent, demands that he replay the last song so he could sit and listen again, eyes closed and head swaying softly, yoongi asks him if he would like to sing the opening.

seokjin freezes, his face going immediately blank, and for a moment, yoongi thinks he's fucked this whole thing up. gone too far, somehow. but then seokjin chuckles, a depressingly wet thing, and tells yoongi that he'd be honored.

yoongi hides his sigh of relief and shows seokjin the few lines of lyrics he'd been thinking of using for the first verse, fighting not to blush when he hears seokjin sing them back to him.

-

that last move had checked a few pieces of advice off his list, and probably should have been enough to cover the hobbies bit as well - since it was well known that yoongi's only real important interest was music - but... he can do one better, he thinks. it might end up killing him from the humiliation, but maybe that was what he needed to do. martyr himself for the cause and all that.

"you know how i like candles?"

seokjin look understandably bewildered by the non sequitur. "um... yes?"

"right, well. my mother sent me a diy candle making kit," yoongi tells him, and he can already feel his face heating. "probably she thought she was being funny. but joke's on her, because i'm actually gonna use it and, ahh... i was wondering if maybe you wanted to make some candles with me?"

the way that seokjin's face clears of confusion and immediately brightens with a smile, is more than worth any lingering embarrassment yoongi might have been feeling. it was almost enough to make him hopeful, actually, as if he didn't still have a heavy bramble of branches currently growing up his ribs and around his heart.

-

as for the don't dress for your friends thing, well. yoongi isn't one hundred percent positive what the fuck that even means? he had never dressed for anyone besides himself in his entire life -- unless, of course, bangtan's outfits for comeback concepts counted? he guessed probably not.

if nothing else, yoongi supposes it wouldn't hurt to maybe dress in a way that might... entice seokjin, a bit?

he isn't all that sure how exactly to do that either, however, and ends up spending a lot of time just staring into the mirror trying to figure out how he should go about this part. he spends so much time in front of the mirror, in fact, that seokjin actually takes notice.

when they had first been assigned as roommates, yoongi hadn't tried to fight it; seokjin really was perfectly suited for him (in more ways than one) and he would not look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how much of a bad idea it might have been re: his tender goddamn heart. it meant lots of that perpetual proximity, after all. for better or worse.

but when seokjin catches him in front of the mirror again and asks him if everything was alright, a look of open concern on his face, yoongi's mouth is moving before he can second guess himself. "what would you say are my best physical features, hyung?"

seokjin had obviously not been expecting that, but he masks his surprise well. "is this for a fan service thing, or..?"

"sure," yoongi replies, as vaguely as he possibly can.

and thankfully, seokjin either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because he just stares at yoongi for a moment, their eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror, before quietly stepping up close behind him.

"you're very slight, you know? and there are, um... people, right, who like that kind of thing."

he looks kind of embarrassed, just the faintest pink tint staining the very tips of his ears. but it's there, and yoongi notices. he tries not to show how fucking giddy it makes him.

incredibly, seokjin continues: "there's also -- you've got a cute nose, and uh, nice... lips? good hands." the flush has made its way down across seokjin's nose from cheek to cheek. yoongi clenches his fists at his sides, can't meet seokjin's eyes in the mirror anymore. "and i've always, you know... your collarbones, they're -- i've always liked your collarbones, i guess. so."

"noted," yoongi breathes, barely a whisper.

seokjin only nods, stiltedly, and backs away, claiming he needed to go... do something.

yoongi watches him leave in the mirror, doesn't allow himself to smile secretly to himself until he sees the door to their bedroom close behind seokjin's retreating back.

and really, there isn't much left to do after that, but to turn seokjin's observations into action; so yoongi wears tops that are just that much too big, that hang off his shoulder and reveal a hint of collarbone. he shimmies into his skinniest fucking jeans and rolls up the sleeves of his button-downs to better show off his hands and forearms. and when yoongi asks to borrow jimin's lip gloss, he doesn't forget to spritz a bit of that musky pine cologne at his wrists and behind his ears.

it felt kind of ridiculously nice, in a way. knowing he looked damn good, being able to notice seokjin's appreciative gaze on his skin. and not to mention just how much having that little bit of extra confidence really helped, let him more easily meet seokjin's eyes and actually hold on to that warm gaze. helped him to relax and feel comfortable enough to just be himself or whatever the fuck.

and if his life were any less bizarre, currently and in general, yoongi would probably find himself cringing at the romcom-esque montage the last few weeks had become. but it truly was that bizarre, and he really couldn't find it within himself to care very much at the moment.

the flowers do, eventually, come back -- though they aren't nearly as painful as before. annoying, yeah, definitely. these delicate, thin little petals that get caught in his esophagus like a very insistent tickle. but even still, he doesn't hurt even half as much as the last time, throat raw and chest aching.

and a pathetic part of him hopes that they've lessened in intensity because he's gotten closer to making seokjin fall for him... but yoongi doesn't want to get his hopes up, so he doesn't think about that possibility often.

things stay pretty consistently good for a while, after that. yoongi doesn't go looking for any more tips and tricks, determined to just be himself as aggressively as he knows how and hope for the best. so he still keeps trying his luck with seokjin, giving it all he's fucking got, and puts off going in for another surgery for as long as he possibly can. which is much more manageable now, given how yoongi had practically become a professional at keeping this whole messy debacle a secret from the others.

and then, of course, he gets caught.

it's a ridiculous slip up, honestly, made worse by how worried it makes everyone; he and namjoon had just walked back into the genius lab after taking a quick snack break, but before yoongi could even make it to his desk, his foot had caught on the edge of his rug - at the exact same moment that a tickle had begun to sneak its way up his throat. and so, already caught off guard by his loss of balance, yoongi had been unable to contain the inevitable cough and subsequent flurry of flower petals.

for a moment, namjoon had been struck dumb, looking back from yoongi's pale face to the light purple petals standing out starkly against the dark pattern of his rug. and then, face serious, he'd said, "we're calling a family meeting."

and yoongi, knowing there was nothing he could do about it, had only muttered, "fine. but don't invite seokjin-hyung."

namjoon, to his credit, had not skipped a beat. simply nodded and pulled out his phone, messaging the others. they arrived not even fifteen minutes later, so right then and there, all of them crammed into his tiny fucking studio and sitting in a lopsided circle on his horrendous fucking rug, yoongi had finally come clean. and the worst part hadn't been how completely unsurprised all of them were. that was almost funny, actually, and a small relief in an odd way.

no, the worst bit was the aftermath. the extra care and concern, and the obvious worry in all of their eyes. it's a wonder seokjin never seemed to notice.

so yoongi gives in and goes to get the surgery one last time, even if just to get that concern off his back for a little while. and it would buy him some more time, anyway, to get things right with seokjin.

in the meantime, yoongi gives himself a deadline. if it didn't stick this time, he would leave. promise. the kids don't like that, try to fight him on it, but yoongi won't budge. he'll give it one more try, one last push. and this time, he reasons with his members, yoongi at least had the rest of bangtan (minus the one) to back him up in whatever way they could. hoseok and taehyung in particular, latch onto that and promise to be the best wingmen he has ever had.

yoongi hopes it doesn't come to that, hopes that this is it, finally. finally. but still, it's nice to know he has support, should the worst come to pass.

yoongi wakes up in the middle of the night with a terrible hacking cough that shakes his entire body. his chest feels tight, as if his bones were attempting to expand around his lungs and break through his skin.

an awful sense of deja vu consumes him, and another wave of coughs hits just as he's sitting up to catch his breath; he's not in his bed, at home, next to seokjin. he's been holed up in his studio all night, and when he looks down this time, he doesn't just find a smattering of petals -- hacked up across his workstation is a straight up excess of petals, from three different flowers at the very least, more than enough to form a lush bouquet.

yoongi's first immediate thought is what the fuck..?

his second, third, and fourth thoughts are why are there so many? and i thought we'd been getting better... getting closer... and so why are there so many? and he's gearing up for more of the same cycling panic, when his phone goes off.

it's seokjin, of course, asking when yoongi thinks he might be coming home. and a part of yoongi wants to tell him not to wait up. but another part of him, doesn't. the part that wants to see seokjin the very moment he returns to the dorm, and knows that seokjin will be sat up in bed waiting for him even if yoongi specifically tells him not to.

so he doesn't bother.

instead, yoongi tells seokjin that he'll be home soon. and he means it, is already closing all his open projects and shutting his computer down, while seokjin hums happily in his ear. and it's that sound, more than anything, that calms yoongi down from his earlier anxiety. hearing how seokjin sounds so obviously pleased and fond, and yoongi --

yoongi is so close, seokjin is so close.

"i'll see you soon," yoongi whispers into the receiver, and he means it. in more ways than one.

because he's seen it: the way seokjin's smiles for yoongi have changed over the past few months, the way his voice sometimes felt like it went soft and intimate whenever they spoke alone, the way seokjin sneaks looks at him now whenever he thinks yoongi can't see. but yoongi does see, and he knows now that he is so incredibly close. can feel it in his bones, in the painful itch at the back of his throat.

he's right, yoongi knows he is. because with every day that passes after that, he coughs less and less. the flower types eventually start showing up one type at a time, until it's just the same flower again and again, less and less every time. and then, one day, the petals just sort of... stop coming, altogether.

the day after that, seokjin kisses him.