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yoongi owns a small business in the basement shop-front of a converted tenement on the quieter end st. mark's place in the east village. he's in eclectic company around these parts; there are three different karaoke joints down the block, one of them an actual korean-style noraebang, all within the same ten foot radius. a mass retailer of vape paraphernalia has just recently moved in across the street, and the tattoo parlor next door was set to celebrate their twenty-fifth anniversary at the end of the month.
directly above him lived a small herbal medicine shoppe - slash - tearoom, done up in the style of an old fashioned apothecary. sharing a building with them meant that yoongi's basement more often than not smelled of smoldering leaves, but also, they made a lemon and rosemary cupcake that literally brightened his day whenever he was blessed enough to buy one before they all sold out. so the trade off was pretty even.
yoongi, for his part, ran a bookstore. where he sold books about music.
in the east village alone, yoongi knew of at least ten other record shops and/or general music stores. in the downtown manhattan area at large, he wouldn't be surprised to find out if there were more than fifty. and in the midst of them all, was yoongi, the only spot below fourteenth street where you could find so many words on the subject... but no actual music. just books.
it was an odd thing to be proud of, but yoongi was a bit proud nonetheless.
officially, the shop opens at ten on weekdays, but yoongi usually doesn't see his first customer until after noon. this is fine by him, though, as it left him the mornings to deal with all the boring bullshit and get it out of the way before the business day truly started. still, a few early birds were known to stop by now and then, usually regulars who knew exactly what they needed and wasted no time in the transaction -- come in, purchase their fifth edition annotated history of eighteenth century german composers, and get out. with only a brief, if genuine, greeting for yoongi during the entire process.
honestly, yoongi liked these people best. they understood each other.
and so he was used to the occasional interruption during his early morning replenish, doesn't even pause when he hears the old bell above the door clang only half an hour after he'd flipped the open sign in the window.
"welcome!" he calls out. his voice carries in the small basement, and he knows that his usual types would find him if they needed help with anything or were ready to check out. so he stays put and finishes shelving the latest shipment of music chart compendiums he'd received the previous night.
ten minutes pass, however, and no one has come looking for him. and neither has the bell above the door gone off again. yoongi finishes breaking down the cardboard shipping box and folds it up underneath his arm while he heads out to the front of the store. he really hoped no one was trying to steal from him before noon on a goddamn wednesday - it wasn't a frequent occurrence, but also. this was new york, and things happened.
he's made to shout out another greeting, mouth open and a large breath taken, but it just chokes in his throat before he can even get any words out. because there, sitting at the small table he has set up just below the bright front window, scribbling furiously into one of the blank manuscript notebooks that yoongi sold from a rack near the register, was a customer.
but this wasn't one of his regulars. in fact, yoongi wasn't sure if this particular customer had ever been to new york in his life, or if he had, yoongi never expected that he would walk into this shop. into yoongi's shop.
see, despite not being one of his regulars, nor anyone he had ever seen on the streets of new york, yoongi knew this customer. knew his face well, even though he still had his nose firmly in his new book. because yoongi would recognize this customer's face from any angle, because he had seen it so many times, in so many different scenarios.
yoongi knows this customer, even though he doesn't know him. and his suspicions are confirmed not even a minute later, when this customer finally lifts his head and smiles at seeing yoongi standing in front of him, looking like a dead fish most probably.
motherfucking kim seokjin is in my ridiculous goddamn shop, yoongi thinks, unable to look away from the smile he's seen over a hundred times at this point, suddenly a wholly different beast now that he was seeing it in person. taehyungie is gonna flip his entire fucking shit.
-
kim seokjin is an actor. but not anyone that most (if any) of yoongi's neighbors might know. kim seokjin was a korean actor, for one, and probably the most famous actor in south korea at the moment, specifically. yoongi knew this because one of his friends was absolutely obsessed, so their entire friend group was regularly subjected to weekend marathons of anything and everything taehyung could find subbed online.
not that any of the rest of them complained, of course. kim seokjin was a, uh... very attractive man. well worth suffering through whatever convoluted drama plot he starred in.
and here he was, in yoongi's basement.
"ah, so sorry!" kim seokjin says, in slightly accented english. he stands from his seat, inclines his head just a touch, in an aborted bow. "i only came in to browse, but then i heard you humming and i had to write -- and don't worry, i'll buy this of course!"
he pats the manuscript notebook on the table in front of him, still smiling sweetly over at yoongi. it takes him a second, but yoongi finds his words eventually.
"it - it's alright," yoongi manages to stutter softly.
he doesn't realize he's spoken in korean until kim seokjin's eyes and smile both widen dramatically. he almost seems to relax a bit, in his posture, coming around the table to greet yoongi properly.
"oh! you speak korean, that's so nice!" he exclaims, speaking korean himself now, practically bouncing over to bow and shake yoongi's hand in both of his. "you have a really lovely shop, love the atmosphere. and i've been getting into writing music - just as a hobby, of course, my job really doesn't allow for much downtime - so finding the notebooks here was really fortunate! what was that you were humming, by the way? it sounded so pretty, i got inspired!"
kim seokjin laughs, this loud honking thing that seems to echo in the basement, and he's still holding yoongi's hand. yoongi feels like he might need to sit down.
it's just, kim seokjin was a lot more... well. he was just a lot more than yoongi knew to expect. not a bad thing, just. a lot to take in all at once. and more than yoongi has ever had to deal with before noon on a wednesday.
he takes a breath. "i'm glad you liked it, it's um -- a couple of friends and i, we make music sometimes, put together small mixtapes now and then. i don't remember exactly what i was humming, but it was probably something from our latest."
yoongi has no idea why he's said any of that. he realizes he's babbling, but can't seem to stop himself. kim seokjin was just so good looking, and he was so close. what the fuck else was yoongi supposed to do.
"that's cool that you write music, even if it's just a hobby. it's the same for me, i guess. what kind of..."
yoongi doesn't bother finishing his thought, lets himself trail off and instead watches kim seokjin bound back over to the table to collect his things - not just the notebook, but also a backpack, a couple of shopping bags, and a to-go cup from the tearoom upstairs. the closer kim seokjin gets, the stronger the smell of chamomile becomes.
it soothes yoongi, a bit, calms his nerves. he hasn't been this anxious around a cute boy since -- shit, probably years now. but kim seokjin was just something else entirely. something yoongi didn't know to prepare for. he looks over to the cash wrap, where his own mug of morning tea still sat. it was most likely cold by now, but yoongi could really use another shot of that lemon balm right about now.
he sidesteps a bit, slides the folded shipping box onto the front countertop, then leans over to grasp for his mug on the opposite side next to the register. and he does manage to scoop it up just fine -- but. kim seokjin must have seen him head for the counter and changed his own trajectory accordingly, because when yoongi turns back around, kim seokjin is much closer than he expected. as in, literally right up on top of him, pretty much. and they're both moving so quickly, that by the time either of them realize what's about to happen, it's already too late.
yoongi whips back around just as kim seokjin comes to a skidding stop next to him, and in the small collision that follows, both of their teas - one gone cold, the other still warm - end up spilled down their fronts, seeping into yoongi's old grey sweater and kim seokjin's soft pink hoodie.
great, yoongi scoffs to himself. fucking fantastic first impression you've just made on the most attractive person you've ever actually met in real life. taehyung is never going to forgive you.
-
the basement isn't a very large space to begin with, but when yoongi had set up shop, he'd made sure to carve out a space for himself behind the front cash wrap; through a narrow, arched doorway was the break room. sometimes office, sometimes nap station. in the cramped rectangular space, yoongi and hoseok (part-timer and good friend) had managed to fit a small loveseat along the far wall, adjacent to a long second-hand table, upon which sat a tiny single-burner hotplate and below which lived the stout refrigerator. next to the table stood a tall water cooler, and directly in front of that, was the door to the restroom.
kim seokjin had gone through that door over five minutes ago. in that time, yoongi had done nothing except to go lock the shop door and flip the welcome sign, then return back to the break room. where still he sat, slouched down into the loveseat, the tea staining his sweater now beginning to dry rather uncomfortably against his skin. he deserved it, though. for being such a wreck of a human.
seokjin had insisted that it was fine, partly his own fault after all, and he'd just bought a new sweater that morning, so he even had a change of clothes on hand. no big deal! he'd kept repeating, as yoongi floundered.
but it was a big deal. the kind of big deal his friends would never let him hear the end of... if he ever told them at all, honestly.
the thought reminds him to check the time. technically, hoseok wasn't scheduled to come in until around one - but with the way his morning had gone so far, yoongi wasn't above considering the theory that he might have passed through some sort of wormhole on his way into work. again, this was new york. and things happened.
yoongi's still looking down at his phone, contemplating whether or not he should just text hoseok and give him the day off, when kim seokjin steps out of the restroom. he looks, somehow even better than he did before. which yoongi would have imagined impossible, were he not staring dumbly at the proof right before his eyes.
"thanks for letting me borrow the facilities," kim seokjin smiles awkwardly, shoulders a bit stiff as he pulled at the sweater he was now wearing. it looked incredibly soft, maybe cashmere, a deep burgundy color that accentuated the light flush of pink across his cheeks. he's taken off the cap he'd been wearing as well, hair tousled as if he had run his fingers through it a few times in front of the mirror. it was an unbelievably good look on him, and yoongi must get caught drooling, because kim seokjin chuckles ruefully. "you know, i really liked this top when i tried it on at the store earlier - and still do! - but now i'm thinking i might be a little overdressed for the casual, discreet morning i'd planned on."
he huffs another soft chuckle, smoothing his palm down his front this time. yoongi's mouth decides to act on it's own.
"i think you look great," he blurts.
"yeah?" kim seokjin smiles, really and truly, and yoongi can only nod back dumbly. "well, maybe i won't immediately head back to my hotel then."
yoongi feels himself frowning before he can stop it happening. "oh. you're leaving. right, of course."
"afraid so," kim seokjin says, sounding oddly apologetic. why, yoongi has no idea. kim seokjin owed him nothing. "i've got a busy week ahead of me and my mana-- the people i'm traveling with, they'll be upset if i'm not back soon."
kim seokjin comes over to where yoongi's now standing awkwardly in front of the loveseat, stoops down to retrieve his backpack and shopping bags. having him so close, enough to just feel the body heat coming off of him, yoongi wants nothing more than to find a reason to keep him here. yoongi's mind hastily cycles through a dozen options - do you want something to drink, before you go? i've got bottled water, and uh, juice boxes. or i could go upstairs and replace your tea? maybe something to eat, then, if you aren't thirsty, something to nibble? i'm positive we've got some cup ramyeon stashed away back here, somewhere. or again, upstairs, they make a life-changing lemon rosemary cupcake? how does that sound, does it make you want to stay, will you please --?
but he doesn't say any of those things.
"i hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in new york," yoongi says, instead. he breathes a wry chuckle, lips tipped into a smirk. "though perhaps, let's maybe hope it isn't..."
"quite so wet?" kim seokjin finishes for him. yoongi snorts.
"i was gonna say such a goddamn mess, but yeah. that too," he sighs, nods his head back toward the arched doorway. "here, i'll walk you out."
and so, together, they walk back into the main room; to yoongi, it almost feels as though his basement will never look quite the same. as if it's been irreparably changed, just by kim seokjin having existed within its walls for a bit. the thought makes him want to gag at his own romanticism. gross.
"it was nice to meet you," yoongi says, as they head around the front counter and across the room.
at the door, midday light flooding in as much as possible through the basement's few windows, kim seokjin turns to him with a soft, genuine smile.
"thank you," he says. "it was nice to meet you, too."
and then he's gone, up the front steps and out onto st. mark's, bell above the door clanging sadly in his wake.
yoongi takes a long look around at his shop, and laughs. yeeeah, definitely not telling kim taehyung a single thing that happened here on this day. or anyone else, for that matter. ever.
-
there's still work to be done, though, and the clock on the wall tells him that it isn't even noon yet. yoongi groans, not bothering to restrain himself. the sound echoes around the shop and comes back to him as almost a whimper. appropriate.
he walks over and drapes himself across the front counter, looks down over the side at the second box of new shipment waiting for him behind the cash wrap, completely forgotten in the morning commotion. might as well get to that, then. one more groan as he straightens and walks around the register, then yoongi crouches down to have a look at what he was going to be dealing with.
it's almost mindless work for him at this point, which is nice in its own way. mostly hidden by the counter as he sorts books by those that needed to be replenished and those that needed a new home altogether, yoongi's been going through the motions for a few minutes when he hears the bell above the door clang once more.
having learned his goddamn lesson, yoongi's quick to make his presence known this time as he greets the new customer.
"welcome to --!" he starts, the words instantly dying in his throat once he's stood up from behind the counter and seen who was standing just inside the door to his shop. "you're back."
"forgot my notebook," seokjin explains, and then laughs to himself. "forgot to buy the notebook in the first place."
yoongi nods, a bit belatedly, still not quite believing that kim seokjin was standing in his basement. again.
"oh... right. did you leave it in the back? i'll just go and..."
yoongi trails off vaguely as he spins on the spot and practically runs away, back through the arched doorway and into the breakroom. after a second's look around, he locates the manuscript notebook laying haphazardly on the loveseat. yoongi walks over to snatch it up, and then turns to head back the way he came -- only to be stopped in his tracks when he runs into a brick wall. or more like, the brick wall of seokjin's chest, holy shit.
"good thing neither of us was holding tea, huh?" seokjin jokes, hands gripping at yoongi's upper arms to steady him.
embarrassingly, yoongi thinks his knees might give out as well. but he perseveres, shoving the notebook into the breath of space between them. "here's your --"
"you know who i am," seokjin says, cutting him off. "you've known from the moment you saw me."
it isn't a question, so yoongi doesn't answer. but it also isn't an accusation, which kind of just leaves him at a loss. yoongi nods once, in confirmation, eyes caught in seokjin's gaze.
"and you didn't say anything, treated me like just another customer. for the most part."
seokjin is smiling now, almost a smirk, but it still isn't a question. not so much an accusation as it is, just. knowing. neither one of them have stepped back, still practically chest to chest. yoongi nods.
"that was... nice of you," seokjin nods himself, voice soft.
yoongi shrugs, just barely, and seokjin only smiles down at him, the moment seeming to stretch on forever. after a while, yoongi starts to wonder if he should maybe say thank you? or something, but then seokjin's face is a whole lot closer than it had been a moment ago and -- oh, hello. those are lips pressing into his. nice, plump, incredibly soft lips. kim seokjin's lips, what in fresh goddamn hell.
"probably best you don't tell anyone about this," seokjin steps back, smiles small and private.
"no one would believe me," yoongi laughs, a touch hysterically. because it's true, taehyung would more likely just yell at him for telling such a crude joke about his idol. besides, "i don't even believe me, honestly."
seokjin giggles, the kind of sound that makes yoongi feel warm, even down here in his perpetually drafty basement. they say there like that, just yoongi and seokin alone in the breakroom, for a long, comfortable moment. long enough for yoongi to start wondering when it was he had stopped referring to the man before him by his full name - kim seokjin, beloved actor with over a million followers on twitter - and instead started seeing him simply as… seokjin. the impossibly cute guy who had still come back to the shop, even after yoongi had spilled his tea everywhere like a goddamn fool.
just seokjin, whose smile suddenly becomes a bit bashful. cheeks flushed a sweet, inviting pink. "let's, uh... let me pay for this notebook, finally."
he slips the manuscript notebook out of yoongi's hand, where it had still been pressed against his chest, and takes a few more stuttered steps back before turning around completely and walking away into the main room. it's an odd sort of deja vu, watching seokjin's broad back pass through his arched doorway. but instead of leaving him confused and disoriented, yoongi just feels... kinda embarrassingly hopeful.
okay, min yoongi. the universe has seen fit to give you a second chance here, he steels himself, slapping at his cheeks and trying to tone down his outrageous grin. so let's not fuck it up, yeah?
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