Work Text:
The first time Seokjin opens his eyes, it's 6:30 in the morning.
He slaps his hand palm-down on top of his phone to stop the atrocious noise emitting from it. It takes his fingers about 30 seconds to find the dismiss button, and by then his brain is already shutting down again. He only just manages to blearily register the time before sleep washes over his body again.
The second time Seokjin opens his eyes, it isn't his alarm that wakes him.
It's the silence that does. The eery, suspicious silence. The apartment is never this quiet when he wakes up. Usually, the sounds of Jimin voluntarily, loudly invading his own home and preparing his (emphasis on his, his being Jimin's) usual gourmet breakfast in his kitchen paired with the sound of his atrocious laughter as he loudly converses with whoever is on the phone in the most ungodly hours of the morning with absolutely no regard whatsoever to Seokjin trying to sleep in the next room.
He sits up slowly, stretching as he does, hissing as his vision gets flooded by the sunlight pouring in through the multiple opened curtains in his room. He reaches wearily for his desk, thumbs his phone on, and blinks hard at the time.
9:45 am.
Oh, okay, cool, Seokjin shrugs to himself, unlocking his phone. He still had plenty of time. Work only starts at nine.
Seokjin's thumbs hover above the twitter app, and he hums to himself as his timeline loads.
jungkook jungkook • 15m
just took the phattest dump of my life feeling #free
overlord kimth • 1h
it should be illegal to be awake at this hour
overlord kimth • 2h
god this bus smells like shit
beyoncé parkjimbles • 2h
language mister
overlord kimth • 1h
Ur right. I apologize
jungkook jungkook • 5h
guys i’m in the ER rn. felt adventurous, tried to suck my own dick off last night. if someone could bring me my 3DS i’d be super grateful
beyoncé parkjimbles • 2h
..............
namjoon Kim_Namjoon94 • 2h
seokjin hyung if ur seeing this it was jimin's idea not mine
"Wait, what," Seokjin says out loud, squinting down at the tweet. "Jimin's...idea? Jimin's idea to do wh-"
Oh.
Seokjin checked the time the tweet was sent and then the time on his phone.
Fuck.
"Fuck," he groans loudly, swinging his feet over his bed. "God, fuck ." Instead of his toes sinking into the warm Ryan slippers Namjoon bought him for his birthday two years ago, his feet crunch onto something prickly, and he cranes his neck to see what it is.
A note, crumpled into a neat ball.
Seokjin somehow already knows who it's from before he’s smoothing the paper out to scan the neat, even handwriting.
wakey wakey, lemon bake-y~!!! you're late. :) so sorry I didn't wake you up, you just looked soooooo cute and soooooooooo peaceful, I couldn't possibly think of disturbing you !!! :)
p.s. ah yes, we have an office meeting today at 11! just in case you forgot ♡
p.p.s. so you DO DROOL in your sleep!!! you dirty liar!!!!!!!!!!!
p.p.p.s. don't even try getting back at me for this. I possess video proof of the above!!! I have blackmail, hyung. meditate on that. I have blackmail and I am not afraid to use it
p.p.p.p.s. hehe you just wasted five minutes of your morning reading all of this. chop chop!
Seokjin stares down at the note in his hands in utter disbelief. Or maybe it was shock. Or denial. Maybe his brain had completely gone apathetic towards its own suffering due to the amount of mental strain just having Jimin in his life has caused it.
He shakes his head, crumples the note in his fist. For the added dramatic extra effect he lets it drop to the floor and stomps on it three times, because fuck you , Park Jimin. Damn you to hell.
His phones lights up with a notification, but his eyes only catch the time — 9:52 p.m. Seokjin curses again, making an instant mad dash for the bathroom. How in the fuck did seven minutes go by already?
While he's vigorously scrubbing at his teeth, he casts a brief, weary glance at the shower. The pros and cons have to be heavily weighed. He could simply skip the shower and maybe, if the stars were on his side this morning, make it to work on time for the meeting. Maybe only ten minutes later tops, too, if he maybe decided to grab a coffee on the way. He would be sweating, and smelling, yes, but he would make it.
Or. He could just hop into the shower real quick. Just a short scrub to make sure his skin was as shiny and fresh as always. His daily skin care routine is also kinda important. His chances of not making it will increase, yes, on a large scale. A very large scale, actually, but his skin . It’ll be glowing. And he won't smell.
The decision isn't really a hard one.
Spitting out his toothbrush, he promptly sheds all his night wear.
—
As if he wasn’t in any more of a rush, the line at Seokjin's usual coffee stop is positively barbaric.
It's disgusting really, the way people (he can practically hear Namjoon’s loud sigh in his head) will turn into animals when it comes to food.
It takes him approximately seventeen ( seventeen . 17.) minutes to reach the front of the line. He knows this because his foot was tapping the seconds away the entire wait, and the woman in front of him in line was also conveniently impatient, and passive aggressively so. Every minute or so she would loudly complain about the exact amount of time she has been standing on line. A blessing and a curse, really. He was more than glad when she finally disappeared with her drink.
"Thank you," Seokjin forces as genuine of a smile as he can while taking his own drink from the woman behind the counter. He's got to go go go, no time to wait around, no time to—
"Wait," he hears her call out as he's turning to leave. "Sir, you forgot your credit card—"
It happens in almost slow motion.
He whirls around, apologetic but grateful smile ready and arms already extending. However since Seokjin is an idiot, he extends the wrong arm, obviously, the wrong arm being the arm with a full cup of coffee attached to the end of it. This results in the coffee flinging itself out the cup and splattering all over the poor, unsuspecting worker.
The next five minute are a blur or frantic apologies and annoyed comments from the line behind him, to which Seokjin tries with every fiber in him not to snap back at. He pays for the damage and for another cup of coffee as fast as he can before tailing it out of the shop faster than physically possible.
So, Seokjin was clearly not having the most pleasant late morning-early afternoon start to his day.
He boards the bus to save a, give or take, ten minute wait for a cab. His phone buzzes in his hand as he takes his seat, and he opens it up to a text notification from his absolute favorite person in the world.
spawn of satan >> 12:52am
meeting in 7 minutes D:
where art thou hyung
seokjin
fuck you
spawn of satan
well
now while i'm not turning you down
i’ll have to ask tae what he thinks of a threesome first
don't think he'll be opposed tho
you look like you'd make a solid addition in bed
seokjin
……….
why do i even talk to you
spawn of satan
cuz u love me duh
did u get the love letter i left u :D
seokjin
unfortunately
you had the time to write out a whole elaborate note
but none to just...idk...wake me up...
spawn of satan
yea :/
sorry hyung
the extra time it took me to locate where you hid the emergency keys....
just put me soooo behind
didn't even have the time to edit and revise the note
hope you didn’t mind the spelling errors
seokjin
when i arrive i'm going to strangle the fuck out of you
spawn of satan
kinky
the meetings about to start, gtg :)
seokjin
i'm serious jiminie
say goodbye to all your loved ones
your blackmail doesn't phase me anymore
The bus pulls up to Seokjin's stop, and he pockets his phone to shimmy his way to the exit. If anybody asked, precisely anyone by the name of Park Jimin, Seokjin would have only admitted to frenzied mad-dashing over his cold, dead body. He skid to a stop outside the office building, panting and wheezing like a suffocating cat. It was a slap in the face, for one. The fact that he hasn't visited the gym in over two weeks obviously was coming back to rail him in the ass.
It was also a reminder that every breath was another second he was late for the meeting that starts in — he checks the time — two minutes and thirty six seconds.
The wait for the elevator wastes fifteen of those. He takes the steps three at a time.
—
" 'Nice of you to join us, Seokjin,' " Seokjin seethes mockingly, slamming his drained cup of coffee into the trash. He immediately rips out another cup from the holder next to the coffee machine. " 'And only a minute late this time, a record!' So funny, oh my god. Can't stop fucking laughing!"
A body sidles up next to where he's standing by the coffee machine. “Look, hyung, it's your arch-nemesis," Jimin whispers into Seokjin's ear, making him leap out of his skin.
"Jimin, what the fuck," Seokjin groans painfully, clutching at his chest. "God, what the fuck."
“I like how you made my name and God synonyms, there,” Jimin says at the same time that Namjoon comments, "I don't think he needs your help to locate him, Jimin,” joining them at the counter. "And hyung, first of all, watch your language, before you get yourself fired. Second, please , if you're gonna stare, at least make it less obvious."
Seokjin instantly redirects his glare to him. "I was not staring.”
"I think you were," Namjoon says, glancing at the cup Seokjin has crushed in his fist.
Jimin licks his lips seductively, taking a seat on one of the counter chairs. "Green looks really good on him, wow," he comments, eyes sliding up and down. "Your arch-nemesis is kinda hot, hyung. In a tiny dwarf kind of way. You two should totally have hate sex."
Seokjin fixes him with a look of thorough disgust. "No thanks? Also, stop calling him my arch-nemesis, it sounds so lame."
"It's not lame, it's classy," Jimin disagrees. Namjoon purses his lips as if to say well, is he wrong?
"Okay, whatever. Who does he think he is, anyway," Seokjin scoffs, eyes cutting over to glare at him through the clear glass. He was at his desk, typing away at the desktop before him, the tip of his tongue poking out through his lips. He’s wearing a loose, green turtle neck. Seokjin scoffs again. "He's younger than me, and he didn't even use honorifics. ' Seokjin .' How disrespectful."
"Hyung, he said Seokjin-ssi," Namjoon jumps in. "You were breathing really heavily so maybe you didn't hear-" he abruptly cuts himself off when Seokjin tightens his fist around the plastic cup, gaze slicing over to challenge him to continue.
Namjoon takes a step back, hands coming up in defense.
"Ri-i-i-i-ight, well," Jimin jumps off the chair and dusts himself off. "I'm gonna go find Taehyung. The energy in this room is giving me heart disease."
—
It is important to know that Seokjin doesn't hate people easily.
Honestly, he doesn’t hate people at all. He hasn’t hated anyone since his eighth grade art teacher (and the weird, old bastard deserved it too), and even at that, he’s sort of gotten bored of praying for his demise. He believes that there are two type of people — those who like people before they meet them, and those who like people after. Seokjin considers himself the former. He's a people person. He enjoys people, he likes meeting people, likes working with people, practically likes all people, everyone person in the world except for Min Yoongi.
Now, no, Seokjin did not just wake up one day and decide he was going to hate Min Yoongi for no good reason, contrary to what popular belief (Jimin. Namjoon.) might suggest. It was Min Yoongi's own fault. He brought this hatred onto himself. He had practically begged for it on his knees.
Sometime two summers ago, it was Yoongi’s first day in the office. Seokjin, of course, being the kind, thoughtful people person he is, wanted to show Yoongi the same energy he shows everyone he first meets: courtesy and respect. However, despite all his best efforts, Yoongi was unresponsive as a rock.
And normally this isn’t an issue for Seokjin. As previously stated, he is lenient, kind, thoughtful. He can take things in stride. For weeks after Yoongi started working at the office, Seokjin would greet him cheerily in the mornings, and Yoongi would only cut him a curt nod in response. And he could work with that. It was fine.
It was fine, until it wasn’t.
One morning, Sooyoung, the office’s boss, called an arbitrary meeting. They were working on designing a stage for a new Korean act scheduled to perform a festival in the coming weeks, and Sooyoung had gathered their small work office together to catch up on the progress of the stage design.
First, Taehyung and Jungkook brought forward a visual presentation of how the stage was roughly expected to look. At the time, Seokjin, along with his fellow co-worker Jung Hoseok, a smiley boy with enough energy to power an army of a million men, was a junior customer service representative. Meaning his job was to ensure that the designs would both appeal to the audience and not pose a threat to them in any way.
“We issued for the light and excess effects to remain angled at 90 degrees only, given that the festival will take place in the evening, and outside at that,” Taehyung had announced confidently, slapping a ruler stick onto the rough sketch that Jungkook had conjured up. Seokjin, being the diligent worker and employee he was, make sure to fulfill his portion of the meeting by assessing the benefits of the decisions pouring in left and right from the design technicians, writing down his thoughts and observations, and waiting for his turn to speak.
Sooyoung, evidently pleased by all the positive input, eventually clapped her hands in finality.
“Alright, good work everyone.” She turns over to where Seokjin was sitting besides Hoseok. Seokjin could feel the weight of the stares of every member in the room swiveling over to them. “Jung Hoseok-ssi, Kim Seokjin-ssi, do you have anything to add before we end?”
Seokjin glanced at Hoseok, who discreetly shook his head, so he lifted his hand politely. Sooyoung nodded for him to continue.
He looked over to where Lee Hyun, another design technician, sat at the table.
“Lee Hyun-ssi suggested that we issue to have the standing area replanted, but I think that may pose as a safety risk,” he said boldly, taking in the tables reactions. Sooyoung and Hyun and the rest of the table looked purley curious to see where he was going with argument. His gaze landed on where Yoongi was seated across the room from him, and jumped a little at finding that his eyes were already heavy and sharp on him. He straightened himself up instantly, refusing to glance away just yet. Seokjin’s father always told him that refusing to look a dog in the eye plastered your fear like a neon stamp to your forehead.
And no, Min Yoongi wasn’t, and still is not a dog (Namjoon’s words. Seokjin begs to differ), but the same rules apply.
“I think,” he continued, lifting his chin in Yoongi’s direction, before shifting his eyes across the table again. “I think we should have the standing area cleared completely of grass to decrease any possible friction. Since rain is so unpredictable at this time of year.”
The table is silent for a moment, as all the participants take a moment to consider what Seokjin said. A cool voice cuts the silence open though, a voice that said, “I disagree.”
All heads swiveled over to where Yoongi sat, and then followed his line of sight right back to Seokjin. Something in Seokjin’s stomach twinged slightly, a feeling he recognized as his Fight or Flight instinct, a product of having had Jimin in his life for longer than should be legally permitted.
“And why’s that, Min Yoongi-ssi?” Seokjin asked primly, trying to appear equally as collected.
Yoongi sat forward in his seat, leaning his clasped hands onto the table. “The costs to have that done, and in such little time, do not coincide with our current budget.”
Seokjin paused, fishing for something to retort with. He hadn’t had money, or any of their budgets in mind when scribbling down his endless ideas on his clipboard. Yoongi’s gaze on his felt patronizing for some reason, like he was waiting for Seokjin to try to get up after the winning blow. Or maybe Seokjin read it wrong in the moment, maybe he was just embarrassed at being left at a loss for words in front of the entire office.
“Even…if...that may be true,” he said slowly, piecing his argument together in his head. “Morality weighs more than money. Will the funds to handle if a single person slips out there coincide with our current budget, either?”
Yoongi set his mouth. “But what if no one slips in the first place?”
“Exactly,” Seokjin said firmly. “That can, and will be assured by clearing the grass.”
“We can’t carelessly throw our money to things that may or may not happen.”
“But if it does , will you pay for it with your pocket?”
“Will you?” Seokjin had no retaliation, closing his mouth into a thin, stressed line. Yoongi sat back, keeping his stare leveled. His hands were still folded together in front him. “This is business, Seokjin-ssi. The costs do not coincide with our budget.”
Seokjin glanced at Hoseok for help, who only pouted his bottom lip helplessly.
After a moment of silence and heavy stares, Sooyoung clapped again, as if to physically clear out the tension in the room.
“This is good,” she said firmly. “See, this is communication. This is why we do this. So we can view issues from a complete 360 degree angle.”
The rest of the employees in the room agreed quickly, and the second she dismissed the meeting the room filled up with the sound of chairs scraping backwards and people stretching out and conversing idly. Hoseok clapped Seokjin on the back sympathetically before he exits the room himself.
Yoongi caught Seokjin’s eye, just briefly, before leaving too.
Now, at this point, Yoongi still hadn’t landed himself a spot on Seokjin’s Hate List. After all, it was very exclusively populated, reserved weakly by a random middle-aged man and the ghost of Seokjin’s past. Seokjin’s wasn’t even bitter enough about the fact that Yoongi had only been with the company for half a year and already had a position twice as high as Seokjin’s.
However, no matter how kind, thoughtful and patient he is, everyone has a breaking point.
It was fine. Maybe Yoongi just didn’t like him. And that was fine too, Seokjin could deal with people not liking him. As long as he wasn’t constantly reminded of it, it was fine.
It was fine until it wasn’t, specifically because he was exactly that: constantly reminded of it.
It started slow, at first. Seokjin would return from a bathroom or lunch break and his chair would be missing or his box of pens or his coffee, and you know what. Because Seokjin is the epitome of patience, he brushed it off and filed it away as Issues To Be Dealt With Later. He doesn’t handle stress well because he’s never let himself handle it at all. And he wanted to keep it that way.
Eventually, the little pranks became not so little anymore, though, because suddenly entire stacks of paperwork would be situated on a toilet seat instead of on his desk or his desktop would be plastic wrapped or he’d find a note in his hair reading some assortment of the word loser , and, see,
That’s when Seokjin’s patience broke.
He spends most of his work days now, and for the past year, glaring menacingly at Yoongi’s working desk and loudly criticizing his ideas during office meetings. Namjoon has tried to remind him that he can’t accuse someone of anything without any further motive than “I just know it, Namjoon-ah, please stop questioning science,” but Seokjin does just know it, he knows it’s Yoongi.
Yoongi must know it’s Yoongi, too, because he glances at him repeatedly throughout the day as well. He looks at him oddly whenever Seokjin disagrees about his opinions during meetings, he looks at him oddly when Seokjin repeatedly cuts in front of him to steal the bathroom, looks at him oddly when Seokjin isn’t looking at all.
And okay, maybe his looks aren’t as spiteful and vicious as Seokjin’s usually are, but Seokjin knows the intention is there .
“I honestly, truly think he just wants to fuck,” Jimin comments during another one of Seokjin’s Yoongi-Centered tirades. They’re sat at their usual spot in the lunchroom, right next to the coffee machine, where Seokjin can look out through the windows and glare at Yoongi very pointedly. “And you talk about him way too much for someone you supposedly hate, so I, Jimin the Wise, conclude that you, too, would like to engage in the pole-hole activity-“
“Please,” Namjoon begs from Seokjin’s side. “Please don’t finish that thought.
“Too late,” Jimin says cheerfully, while Seokjin’s ears ignite defiantly.
“Say pole-hole activity around me ever again and I will file a restraining order on you, no regrets,” he grumbles, ignoring Jimin’s statement.
Jimin turns up his nose at Seokjin. “You’d miss me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Whatever,” Jimin mumbles, kicking lightly at Seokjin’s seat.
There’s a lull in the conversation, where only the occasional sip and the sound of their fingers thumbing away at their phones fills up the empty air.
“Did you guys hear about the new project?” Namjoon speaks up randomly, setting his phone down after a second to glance at Seokjin, and then at Jimin, who was evidently unaware that there was still anybody besides himself left in the room.
When Jimin giggles at his phone, leaning in to peer closer, Seokjin thwaps him pointedly across the back.
“ Ow ,” Jimin screeches, sitting up instantly. “What the hell was that for?”
“Namjoon has something to say,” Seokjin tsked, thwapping him again. Jimin lurches forward threateningly, and Seokjin turns up his lip at him.
“Are you guys two or twenty?” Namjoon asks seriously, both eyebrows somewhere in the flip of his styled hair.
“Twenty-three,” Jimin grunts, shooting Seokjin one more ugly look. Seokjin sticks his tongue out right back. Namjoon looks almost comically unamused. “So can we act like it?” he pleads. “Just for a second, can we do that?”
Jimin pouts his bottom lip apologetically. “Yes, sorry Joonie. Go on.”
Namjoon huffs, clasping his hands in his lap. “Thank you. As I was saying. Ha Sooyoung-nim posted on the board this morning, announcing a project where the office is split into two groups who will be competing against each other for like, an exclusive office party or something. She says she wants to use this to evaluate our individual work ethic, competitivity and overall teamwork skills.”
“...Wait, what?” Seokjin says in confusion, while Jimin lights up next to him. “Competition you said?”
“Yes,” Namjoon nods at him. “The details are all on the board that you guys evidently need to start reading. Jimin, you’re in my group. And before you ask, yes, Taehyung is with us too.” Namjoon winces at the loud celebratory whoop Jimin lets out. “Perfect,” he says, all grins. “When does it start?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Seokjin interrupts, waving his arms around in the air. “Am I in your group too, Joon-ah?”
Namjoon shakes his head sympathetically, and Seokjin leans forward instantly, eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, why do you look like that. What’s wrong.”
“ Hyung , I asked you first! When does it start,” Jimin whines, patting repeatedly at Namjoon’s arm. Namjoon answers him patiently, “It starts tomorrow, Jiminie. Go read the board for more details.” He turns to Seokjin then, his sympathetic look returning in full force. “I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news, so go check the board yourself. And try not to blow up the office when you do, please.”
Seokjin has a notion in his head of what Namjoon is warning him of, but he refuses to believe it.
“How bad is it?” he whispers, and Namjoon shakes his head again. “Do you really want to know?” Seokjin nods instantly, sitting forward in his seat. Jimin has tuned them back in again as solemnity falls like a blanket over the room, and he leans in expectantly, too.
“It’s…” Namjoon trails off, leaning back and visibly bracing himself. “It’s Min Yoongi.”
Jimin’s mouth instantly forms a small ‘o’, and he turns to Seokjin to catch his reaction. Namjoon scoots a little farther away, obviously preparing himself for a blow up. Seokjin’s face is blank though, and he only blinks rapidly for a second, before voicing intelligently, “What?”
“ Hyung ,” Jimin prompts him impatiently, eager to see less talk and more action. “He said that Min Yoongi is in your group. You guys are going to be working together for-” He pauses, and turns to Namjoon. “For how long?”
Namjoon shrugs. “Don’t remember.”
Jimin turns back to Seokjin. “A while. Heard that? With Min Yoongi .”
Seokjin whirls on Namjoon, who instantly jumps back fearfully. He snaps, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” Namjoon exclaims in offense. Jimin took his turn to thwap Seokjin in the arm, tsking, “You monster, don’t talk to Joonie like that.”
Seokjin scowls at him, rubbing at his arm. “Whatever.” He looks at Namjoon apologetically. “I apologize.”
Namjoon pouts his bottom lip, but waves him off. “It’s all good.”
“So,” Jimin pushes at Seokjin’s shoulder once more. “What are you going to do about this? Make it good, the office has been super fucking lame lately.”
Seokjin inhales sharply, considering the options, considering the outburst he could have, the scene he could make.
He exhales.
“I will talk with Ha Sooyoung-nim personally and ask for some changes to be made,” he decides resolutely, and Jimin groans long and loud.
“Old age made you boring,” he grumbles, pushing off the table. Seokjin scoffs at his retreating figure. Namjoon chuckles, patting Seokjin on the back.
“Let us know how that goes,” he says sympathetically, following Jimin out.
—
Spawns of Satan (- joon) >> 2:34pm
daddy long legs
jimin pls change my name back
park jiminie
jin hyung!!!
did it work?
daddy long legs
Jimin
park jiminie
god jesus christ omg fine
kim namjoonie
……………….
i’ll take it
—
Spawns of Satan (- joon) >> 3:00pm
kim seokjinnie
No
—
He doesn’t like it.
He sits across the entire table from Yoongi, arms crossed and eyes pointedly not watching him absentmindedly roll his pen between his fingers. Minwoo and Jiwoo are at the head of the table, loudly laughing and conversing, Jungkook with his eyes glued to his phone, Hoseok looking torn in between joining in the fun or getting everyone down to work. And Seokjin not watching Yoongi.
Hoseok eventually claps loudly, attracting everyone’s attention.
“Okay guys,” he declares reluctantly. Yoongi’s eyelashes flutter when he glances up for a second. The pen weaving in between his fingers doesn’t falter. “Let’s get down to business for a second. Seokjin, can you-“
“I wasn’t staring!” Seokjin bursts out. Hoseok’s mouth hangs open mid sentence. “You- What? Staring at who?” Hoseok says, looking around in confusion. Seokjin clamps his mouth shut, sinking down into his seat. He can feel his face heating up instantly. “Nothing. Nevermind.”
Hoseok blinks for a second, before shrugging it off. “Okay, then. Jiwoo, can you get the lights?”
Seokjin glances up while Hoseok moves on, coincidentally in Yoongi’s direction. He finds, after his eyes adjust to the darkness, that Yoongi was already looking.
He jerks his gaze away so fast he almost gets whiplash, face burning hot. Hot with anger. Does his hair look bad? Is there something on his face? What is he staring at?
Hoseok’s voice tunes back into Seokjin’s brainfeed as he says, “...Since the office is small and we have the advantage of an even number, we’ll pair up and start from the ground.” Seokjin blinks, sitting back up again. How long was he out of it for? “People whose positions I think compliment each other well will be together. This isn’t permanent, by the way, since we're all in one group, but just to start small.”
The rest of their group agree quickly, and Hoseok sweeps his gaze over the lot of them, carefully calculating their fate for the rest of the day.
“Minwoo and Jungkook,” Hoseok says, nodding to himself. Jungkook waves over the table at Minwoo, who grins back.
“I’ll pair myself with Jiwoo,” Hoseok continues. “And Seokjin, you can work with Yoongi.”
What.
Seokjin’s gaze snaps up at Hoseok, and then at Yoongi, who isn’t looking at him anymore. “What?” He says out loud, looking over at Hoseok again.
“What?” Hoseok echoes, frowning. “Is something wrong?”
Seokjin looks desperately over at Yoongi again, who looks up to steadily meet his gaze. Seokjin’s chest thuds. He scowls.
“No, sorry,” he says, internally groaning long and hard. “It’s fine.”
It’s not.
Seokjin stares hard at the table. Yoongi had tried moving over next to him, so he moved his position across the table after pretending to need a pencil from Jungkook at the other side.
After the longest, most extended silence of Seokjin’s life, Yoongi finally speaks up. His voice is clear but careful, as if he’s being cautious of pushing a button that’ll set Seokjin off. Seokjin doesn’t like it. He doesn't like how it makes him feel almost remorseful.
“Do you understand what we’re supposed to be doing?” He says, and Seokjin turns his lip up at him. “ Yes .” No. “I’m not dumb.”
“Oh,” Yoongi says, pulling his elbows off the table. He flips the pen between his fingers again. “Can you explain it to me, then?”
Seokjin almost scoffs, inspecting him for any signs of mockery. Is he trying to make him look trivial? Stupid?
“Why?” he says accusingly. Yoongi furrows his brows. ”Do you not believe me?”
“No, I’m just lost,” Yoongi says, looking slightly puzzled. “Zoned out while Seokseok was talking. And I never read the board in the mornings.”
Seokjin falters. Oh.
“Oh,” he presses his lips together. “Uh, okay. I don’t read them either.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi exhales looking at him expectantly. Seokjin wants to punch his past self from ten seconds ago in this face.
“I think,” he says slowly, buying his time while he tries thinks quick. “I think we’re supposed to just...brainstorm, I guess? The ultimate objective is to create the most flawless stage we can, right? The process is the same as our everyday work, I’d expect.” He taps his chin once, before adding, “except now we’re doing it together.”
Yoongi’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Ah,” he breathes. Seokjin looks up at him. “Okay. Do you have any ideas, then?”
Seokjin shrugs. “We weren’t given a prompt song, or group, so I’m not sure where to start.”
Yoongi’s eyes search the table as he thinks. “Maybe that’s the point? To make us think outside the box. Instead of trying to conform our personal style to those of someone else, we can use this to express ourselves instead.”
It’s Seokjin’s turn to be at a short loss for words. Yoongi looks up after the silence, searching Seokjin’s face for a reaction. “Or...do you have a better idea?”
Seokjin clamps his mouth shut, and then shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, distractedly. “I think that was it.”
Yoongi sets his mouth too, eyes refusing to meet his anymore. “Right.”
He doesn’t like this.
—
“Hoseok’s a good leader,” Jungkook comments idly in the empty room. “No one gave him the job, but he’s good for it. You could tell no one in the room minded.”
Seokjin hums inattentively. “Yeah, he’s a natural.”
Jungkook pauses, lifting his head. “You okay?” he asks quizzically. “You seem off.”
“I don’t like this,” Seokjin thinks out loud after a moment of consideration, drumming his fingers on the long table where Jungkook is laying out a ginormous piece of paper. The rest of their team members have gradually dispersed out the room, leaving himself and Jungkook behind.
Jungkook grunts affirmatively, carefully lowering himself until he is eye level with the table top. “Don’t like what?”
Seokjin gestures vaguely. “ This.”
Jungkook blinks up at him. “My drawing?”
“No- what drawing is there not to like? The paper is blank.”
“Exactly,” Jungkook retorts. “I’m asking you.”
Seokjin groans, slumping forward onto the table. “No, Jungkook, not your drawing. It’s about a group member.”
Jungkook’s glance lingers on him briefly, before he’s focusing on drawing again. “Yoongi hyung?”
Seokjin straightens up instantly. “No, I said group memb- how did you know?”
Jungkook only giggles in response. “Your ears are red.”
“They are not,” Seokjin snaps defensively, hands shooting up to touch them. They feel warm. Seokjin scowls. “Whatever. Yes, it’s Min Yoongi. I don’t like being on the same team as him.”
Jungkook applies the first few strokes to the paper, leaning back to examine what he did. Seokjin frowns.
“Are you even listening?” he complains. “I’m trying to pour out my heart and soul to you.”
Jungkook applies another stroke, biting his lip has he inspects it. He erases it after some thought.
Seokjin is incredulous. “Jungkook-ah!”
“I’m listening, wait,” Jungkook holds a hand up to silence him. He gingerly applies one more stroke to the paper, scrutinizing it carefully. He smiles in satisfaction after a moment. Then he looks over at Seokjin. “Okay. Why don’t you like being on the same team as him?”
Seokjin blinks for a moment, before setting his mouth.
“‘Cause he doesn’t like me,” Seokjin tugs at the fabric around his knee. He looks up to see Jungkook’s eyes trained on his tangled fingers, until they lift to meet his gaze.
“What makes you think he doesn’t like you?” Jungkook asks after a beat.
“He just,” Seokjin purses his lips, releasing the fabric at his knee. “I mean, he acts like it. Every since he got here he’s acted like he’s better than everyone. Than me. Even after I’ve been so nice to him.” Seokjin can feel himself getting worked up already, getting upset over his dumb co-worker. “He would ignore my greetings and embarrass me in meetings and screw up my work everyday.”
Jungkook cocks his head to the side quizzically. “But you’re Kim Seokjin. The hyung I know wouldn’t be bothered at all.”
Seokjin throws his hands up in defeat. “The Kim Seokjin I know wouldn’t, either! He screws with my brain so bad . Exactly why I don’t like being on the same team as him.”
Jungkook takes a moment, tapping his fingers considerably.
“I think,” He says slowly, pursing his lips in thought. “Well, I think you should give him another chance. I would, at least, if I were you. Which I’m not, meaning I can only give you advice. And my advice here is that he’s not as bad at it seems, I promise. Coming from someone who was terrified shitless — literally — of him at first. Whatever reason he gave you to dislike him so much, it probably wasn’t in that intention. He likes— well,” he breaks into a knowing smile, patting his thighs twice. “I can’t spill all of his secrets, can I?”
“Five bucks if you do,” Seokjin says slyly, trying to brush off the biting feeling in his chest. “Is it blackmail worthy?”
“Oh, totally,” Jungkook grins. He stands up leisurely, stretching out his all of limbs. “I’m going to go find Minwoo hyung, see what else he’s come up with so far.” Seokjin shoots him a close-lipped smile up as Jungkook gathers his belongings and waves bye. “Catch you later, hyung!”
—
For the record, Seokjin still hates Min Yoongi.
He tried to ignore Jungkook’s words, letting them sit scattered in the far corners of his brain, tried hard to let them rot and be forgotten, so he could go back to passionately despising the little man with too big a head for his body.
It isn’t working.
Jungkook’s words eat at him hour after hour. Seokjin spends less of those work hours actually working and more of them watching Yoongi.
He watches Yoongi, peeking through the veil of hate he usually keeps draped over his eyes, and learns that Yoongi is a lot of things he didn’t know, or expect.
He learns that Yoongi sits in his desk chair in weird positions, sometimes with his foot tucked underneath him, sometimes crisscrossed, sometimes with both knees tucked into his chest. He’s small, Seokjin learns, small enough to pull off those fetal positions and not look awkward while doing it.
He learns that Yoongi types slow and blinks slow and wets his lips a lot more than necessary, he learns that Yoongi’s hair is in need of a haircut which is why he keeps shaking it out of his eyes.
He learns that Yoongi works alone, for the most part, except for instances where Jungkook will jump onto him, warm eyes and smiles and laughter, and Yoongi will get this surprised look on his face where his mouth pops open for a second, and then he’ll try not to smile but ends up smiling anyways, and-
Seokjin turns away, face burning. He can hear Yoongi chuckling at something Jungkook said as he escapes to the lunchroom.
Hoseok issues two more sessions where they pair off, still with the same partners. Yoongi’s words still bite, sometimes, and it makes Seokjin more irritated by the day. If Seokjin presents an idea to him or to the group, Yoongi will have something to say about it. It’s irritating. Min Yoongi is irritating.
Seokjin watches him smile easily with Jungkook, watches Hoseok shove him in the shoulder and fall onto him in laughter, he watches Yoongi pat Taehyung on the shoulder and offer Namjoon a small smile. He watches Yoongi interact so freely with everyone but him, and it’s irritating, Seokjin could explode. It’s when he finally blows up on Jimin for accidentally forgetting to print out the copies Seokjin asked him to earlier, that he realizes he has a serious problem on his hands.
“You have a serious problem on your hands,” Jimin says from where he’s hiding behind Namjoon, looking at Seokjin with something a mix between fear and betrayal.
“I agree,” Namjoon speaks up carefully, patting Jimin’s hand reassuringly. “I think you need a break from...this. Like, to let loose for a bit.”
“Wait, yes, that’s it,” Jimin exclaims, shooting out from behind Namjoon. “We’ll go clubbing this weekend! All of us!”
“ No ,” Seokjin deadpans while Namjoon interrupts, “Well, I was thinking more ‘take a day off work,’ but that too, I guess?”
“Yes,” Jimin cheers, ignoring them both. “You, me and Namjoonie hyung. We will all go. Saturday night.”
“Jiminie, I don’t think-“
“Great!” Jimin cuts him off, clapping his hands together. “God, I’ve been so bored lately. Taehyung and I have scoped all of Seoul along the years and we’ve successfully scored down the best clubs in the city, so, my place. Saturday. Six in the evening. Be late and your dicks are mine.”
—
It turns out that Jimin was true to his word, and does know the best clubs in Seoul. Saturday arrives fast, like a rug being snatched underneath his feet. Together they take a cab to Itaewon, where Jimin leads the three of them inside an exclusive gay club. Seokjin hasn’t been clubbing in years, but the feeling is familiar when it rushes back. The blaring lights, the noise, the cramped, warm, surging feeling of bodies , of music, of drinks. The bass is loud and throbs in his head, and he’s shoved aside by a couple blindly making out upon moments of stepping inside, but he can’t help the small grin that involuntarily sprouts on his face. He can feel himself already sinking into the faceless masses, into the songs that all sound the same.
“Good, huh?” Jimin yells over the music, and Seokjin nods halfheartedly in his direction, barely registering his voice. Jimin smacks him in the shoulder, jolting him out of his reverie. “You haven't even had one drink yet,” Jimin teases with a grin when Seokjin rolls his eyes at him, lightly shoving him back.
“Promise you won’t leave me and run off tonight?” he more firmly demands than asks over two highly raised brows.
Jimin pouts his bottom lip, distractedly reaching out to grab Namjoon’s hand to pull him away from an obviously uncomfortable encounter with a stranger that looked at least twice his age.
“No promises. I think this poor baby here needs my surveillance more than you do.”
Namjoon shoots him a look of scorn. “I’m older than you.”
Jimin tsks with a dramatic head shake. “Poor baby.”
The night travels in a blur, a blur of random drinks he knows he shouldn’t take and music with the bass a little too pronounced. Seokjin thinks he catches a glance of a Jungkook-esque face, but he can’t be sure. Maybe it’s the alcohol.
He stumbles into the bathroom to take a breather from the noise, leans over the sink to splash his face with cold water. He blinks into the mirror as the water drips down his face, not bothering to wipe it off. His makeup is pretty much ruined. Due to Jimin’s advice, he had tried to use as much waterproof product as he could get his hands on, but alas. He reaches up to wipe away the streaks of eyeliner sliding down his cheek. On second thought, he rubs away at the rest of the water, too.
He distantly hears arguing as he’s exiting the bathroom, arguing that pauses briefly at his presence. He ignores their silence, surging out into the crowd again.
He’s in the middle of accepting another drink from a complete stranger and trying to shimmy away from another attempting to back it up against him when he’s tapped lightly on the shoulder.
“Seokjin-ssi?”
The voice is instantly familiar, in the way it scratches at something untouched in Seokjin, in the way it makes his skin crawl.
He turns around, finds himself face to face with none other than—
“Min Yoongi,” he says unceremoniously, eyeing the man before him. He looks...good, admittedly, not dressed much up at all. Sporting ripped skinny jeans and two shirt layers of black on white and a leather jacket to cherry the cake. If Seokjin looks hard enough, which he isn’t, he’s wearing a touch of eyeliner, maybe, some lip tint, maybe. His eyelashes are dark. Subtle. Simple. It’s pretty, if Seokjin is looking, which he isn’t.
Seokjin blinks rapidly when he realizes Yoongi has been speaking to him.
He’s still talking, under the dimly lit club lights and underneath the pink lip tint that’s pretty only because of the color and not because it’s on him and he’s saying something, underneath the dull radio static alcohol produces in Seokjin's brain but he’s not hearing it, he’s not hearing it until—
“You’re not listening,” Yoongi observes, and Seokjin is yanked back down into reality, and the static flushes out for a moment. Yoongi didn’t sound annoyed or angry when he said it, and Seokjin doesn’t know how to retaliate to that.
Maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him go for honesty. “You’re right.” He doesn't apologize. He isn’t sorry. “I wasn’t.”
“Figured,” Yoongi answers dryly. “Look, I know, I’m sorry. My ex is here and he's been making me really damn uncomfortable all night.”
Seokjin blinks, twice. “That...sucks?”
Yoongi raised both eyebrows at him expectantly. “So, I was asking if you could kiss me so he’d leave me alone.”
The static is back. Seokjin sinks into it, blinking rapidly. He can feel his face warming by the second, blames it on the alcohol. He’s not even that drunk.
“What?”
Yoongi repeats himself. “Kiss me.”
Seokjin positively sputters. “But—why me ?”
Yoongi cocks his head to one side. Subtle. Simple. “Why not you?”
“Because!” Seokjin exclaims, gesturing vaguely. “Why not any of your friends?”
Yoongi sticks out his hand, ticking his fingers off. “Jungkook is smitten with Namjoon. Taehyung is smitten with Jimin. Hoseok is my best friend.”
Seokjin fishes desperately for something, anything. “So what? Best friends kiss all the time, no big deal.”
“But you’re convenient.” Yoongi is frank when he says it, and it stings a little, he won’t lie. When Seokjin frowns, he doesn’t try to hide it.
“Convenient?” his eyebrows are furrowing on their own accord. “Do I seem easy to you?”
Yoongi looks genuinely confused, and for some reason it makes Seokjin even more aggravated.
“You’re such a dick, you know that?” he says slowly. The noise from the bar around them seems to dim around him while the static sloshes back and forth in his head. “How long have you thought that? What makes me convenient, huh? ‘Cause I was nice? ‘Cause I was friendly?”
“Yes, exactly,” Yoongi sounds exasperated. “So if you’re so nice and friendly can you please just let me kiss you so he gets the hint and fucks away?”
“No,” Seokjin snaps. “Fuck you, you’re such a fucking dickwad.”
Yoongi’s eyes darken, his patience evidently having run thin. He takes a daunting step closer. “Can you stop fucking calling me names and tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”
“You’re what's got me so pissed off,” Seokjin seethes through his teeth. “You’re a pretentious fucking bastard. Fuck off.”
The background noise from the bar is completely gone now. Yoongi's eyes narrow, and he pokes his tongues out from his mouth. Seokjin doesn’t watch it drag along his bottom lip.
"Got quite a fucking mouth on you, don't you," Yoongi almost growls, taking another step closer. Seokjin's body feels warm and woozy. He tries to keep his eyes steady on Yoongi's wavering figure. "Someone should teach you what to do with it."
Seokjin wets his own lips, smiling smugly when Yoongi's eyes drop down to meet it. "You offering?"
"Not that that has been all I have ever asked from you but I mean, if you insist."
"Shut up ," Seokjin sneers, willing himself to shut up. A voice in his head is begging himself to stop this now, to let go and walk away. A voice that sounds oddly like Namjoon's. He shuts it off. "I could have you on your knees in a heartbeat. It would suit you."
Something flickers in Yoongi's eyes. Seokjin's too dizzy to catch it; it was there and then it was gone.
"What, you think about that image a lot?" Yoongi cocks his head again, stepping forward again. Seokjin has a sudden vision of Yoongi, pretty eyes and pretty mouth on his knees beneath him flash before his eyes, and he squeezes them shut instantly, violently shaking it away.
“I’m drunk, and you’re toying with me,” he says, itching to take a step back. “You’ve always toyed with me.”
Yoongi’s eyes clear slightly, and he looks confused again, and almost...hurt?
“I wouldn’t—“ he starts, before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you‘re talking about, but I’m not here to use you, Seokjin-ssi. I’m here asking you a favor.”
“And I said no,” Seokjin deadpans, glaring at Yoongi hard. Pretty eyes, pretty mouth. Yoongi doesn’t glare back.A
“Please?” Yoongi takes one more small step forward. “He’s watching, nows our chance.”
There are too many things about it that Seokjin doesn’t like. Yoongi mouth looks wet and soft and pretty and it’s all too much, his eyes are too much and he’s staring, hard, gently, and if Seokjin knows what’s good for him he’ll repeat himself and walk away, he’ll say no, say no—
“Okay,” Seokjin caves, and Yoongi’s mouth falls open a little, like he expected another no, too. Seokjin screws his eyes shut, blocks out the seemingly permanent stamp of Yoongi’s mouth behind his eyelids. “Just do it. So you'll leave me alone.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi mumbles after a pause, sounding like he wasn’t prepared for this part, the part after the convincing works. Maybe Seokjin should have just said no again, for the both of them. He can feel Yoongi’s body heat as he closes in on him, as his hands slide up his arms and his chest, shudders when they find a home on the curves of his waist.
“This okay?” Yoongi murmurs, and Seokjin hates it. Hates how he sounds like Seokjin’s answer would actually matter, so he snaps again, “Just do it, Yoongi.”
So he does.
Yoongi fists up his collar and brings him down while he leans up, warm against Seokjin’s body to meet him halfway. Their lips connect, awkwardly at first. Seokjin’s mouth is stoic, stiff. He can feel the moment of hesitation between them like a fog, thick and palpable and hungry. Yoongi moves his lips first, just a gentle bump against Seokjin’s. He pulls back only briefly before dipping in again, pressing kisses against Seokjin’s top and bottom lip, again and again until he was almost dizzy with it.
It was horrifying, how tantalizing it felt, how every growing second and every single kiss made Seokjin want to tangle his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and tug him closer, to kiss him for real. It was disgusting how gentle he was being, how every kiss felt like it held something hidden, something tender behind it.
It was disgusting.
Seokjin grips at Yoongi’s waist, and kisses him back.
Yoongi’s mouth is as wet and soft and pretty as it looked, warm against Seokjin, his body warm against Seokjin’s. He’s kissing the way he talks, slow and steady and with meaning, too much meaning for Seokjin’s liking.
Too much, because Seokjin likes it too much.
Yoongi presses in deeper, hands absentmindedly coasting up and down Seokjin’s body, resting on his chest, gripping his arm, running between his shoulder blades, resting on his chest. It’s distracting, Yoongi is distracting, and the kiss is getting hotter as ever moment passes, and the bass of the song playing overhead is thumping in time with Seokjin’s heartbeat, and Seokjin should be worried that Yoongi can hear it, with how close he is. He isn’t, though, isn’t worried. His hands on Yoongi’s waist draws him closer, and he leans down, kissing deeper, kissing harder. He swallows the sharp inhale Yoongi lets out at his sudden roughness, and Yoongi reciprocates, repeatedly pressing rough, wet kisses to Seokjin’s mouth, and it feels good, it feels so good. He blames it on the alcohol. He’s not even that drunk.
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers when he pulls back, his voice scratchy and rough. His face is flushed, his lips are red and wet, his pupils blown out with want.
Seokjin breathes heavily, doesn’t say anything in return.
“We didn’t need to kiss like that,” Yoongi says after a breath passes between, says like he's trying to make Seokjin laugh.
He doesn’t. Seokjin glared hard at him. “Why did you do all of that?”
Yoongi’s light-hearted demeanor evaporates into a frown. “I asked! You said okay!”
“No,” Seokjin waves him off. “After you asked. After I said it was okay. You kept on doing all of that . You can’t put the blame on me.”
“I wasn't,” Yoongi protests desperately. “What was I doing?”
“Stop playing stupid!”
“I'm not!” Yoongi looks genuinely distressed, and Seokjin hates him, hates it, begs his chest to stop tugging. His mouth still feels warm with the memory of him. “I never know what you mean, ever!”
“You kept kissing me like that,” he mumbles, looking away as Yoongi adapts the odd look on his face again. Seokjin wants to leave, has this burning need to walk away. He swallows instead. “Kissing you like how?”
It's the alcohol that makes him go for honesty. He’s never drinking again. “Your mouth— You kept kissing me really… really …”
“Oh,” Yoongi breathes.
“And I couldn't help it,” Seokjin rambles on, stop, stop , “it was— I needed— it’s your fault, not mine.”
“You think I'm a good kisser,” Yoongi says slowly after a beat. Seokjin erupts a bright red.
“That’s not what I said—“
“I made you hot and bothered,” Yoongi continues, grinning in self satisfaction. Seokjin wants to punch him in the face. “Stop.”
“You liked it.” He’s closer than Seokjin remembered him being two seconds ago. He swallows, hard, can't help it when his eyes trail down.
“So what if I did,” Seokjin whispers, inhaling when Yoongi’s hands come to rest on his chest.
He close, so close. “Kiss me again.”
Seokjin hardly hesitates a second before leaning in to close the distance.
—
Jimin slams his palms down on the kitchen table, startling Seokjin out of his short doze off.
“Hyung,” he declares, smacking Seokjin awake. “Spill. Everything. Now.”
“What the fuck , Jimin,” Seokjin groans, swatting his hands away. His head is throbbing, dully. “What is with you lately? Can you wake me up like we’re the civilized beings we are and not barbarics from the stone age?”
“Only on days where Min-fucking-Yoongi doesn’t bridal-style carry your half dead body into my care after riding with the cab he hailed for you so that, and I quote, ‘he could make sure you got home safe .’” Jimin snapped in retaliation.
Seokjin blinks hard, suddenly very awake. “What.”
“Exactly ,” Jimin emphasizes, waving his hands around. “So, less sleeping and more explaining! What on God’s gay earth happened last night?”
Seokjin rubs at his face, blindly reaching out for the cup of water he placed on the table earlier. Jimin graciously slides it closer after watching him struggle. “Look, I don’t know. Really.”
Jimin is unyielding, leaning forward in his seat. “No one goes from wanting to carve out someone’s throat to taking them home to make sure they’re safe just like that , hyung. Something happened. And we will sit right here at my kitchen table for as long as we need to until you tell me.”
Seokjin feigns a deep, concentrated thinking face while he internally rolls his eyes.
“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ , watching Jimin wrinkle his nose at him. “Can't remember shit.”
“Don’t make me smack it out of you,” Jimin warms, hand raising from the table. “I will do it. You know I will.”
Seokjin leans far back away from him. “Fine, fine . Jesus. We made out a bit. Maybe a little more than a bit. But that’s it, nothing else happened.”
Jimin’s jaw unhinges dramatically, Seokjin externally rolls his eyes this time.
“It sincerely wasn’t all that,” Seokjin waved him off.
Jimin’s disbelief turns into a wide, cheeky grin. “Your ears are red,” he notes, and Seokjin’s mouth clamps shut, before he emits a low groan. To hell with his heathenish nervous system.
“Okay, we made out for half an hour, so what!”
“So it was all that,” Jimin exclaims like he found the cure to the common cure. “So, do you, I don’t know. What do boring people do again? Do you like him or something?”
“God no,” Seokjin says way too quickly, and sighs when Jimin’s eyebrows waggle in suspicion. “I don’t like him! I hate his guts, you know that better than anyone.”
“No, I know you better than anyone,” Jimin says, his face taking on a less haughty and more sympathetic look. “And I know you don’t hate him, hyung. You never really did.”
Seokjin scowls at him. “False.
Jimin’s sympathy melts away, and his haughty semblance creeps back onto his face. “Well, according to Min Yoongi, his asshole of an ex approached him while you guys were indulging in some...tête-à-tête, and you readily defended him and publicly announced that he, he being Min Yoongi, was your boyfriend. And also upturned a drink in said ex’s face.”
Seokjin sits up so fast his back cracks, and Jimin looked near close to bursting into tears trying to contain his laughter.
“What.” He deadpans, and Jimin lets out a loud hoot .
“Your face is so red right now,” he cackles, and Seokjin begrudgingly buries his face in his arms. “You’re a horrible fucking friend,” Seokjin mumbles into the table.
“And I’m about to become worse,” Jimin gasps. “I gave him your number, too, before he left. He didn’t ask for it, but he looked like he wanted to.”
Seokjin moans long and hard. “I literally fucking hate you. Why would you do that.”
Jimin wipes underneath his eyes in delight. “No offense, but he kinda looks like a pussy, don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for some time.”
“Why would I be offended?”
“I don’t know, cause he’s your boyfriend?”
Jimin leaps out of the chair with a shriek as Seokjin lunges for him.
—
Yoongi is waiting at Seokjin’s desk when he clocks in for his shift the next Monday.
Seokjin freezes upon catching sight of him. He instantly contemplates swiveling around and walking right back out, but Yoongi catches his eyes before he can so much as move a muscle.
Seokjin tries hard not to wince. He spent the entire weekend trying to figure out what he would do when Monday came, and came up with absolutely nothing. He had decided he would file it as another Issue To Deal With Later but later is here, now, and Yoongi is looking at him expectantly and Seokjin did not sign up for this, not at all.
“I was drunk!” he had tried arguing to Jimin. “I didn’t know what I was saying!”
“Sometimes the truth comes out when we have no ropes holding us back from saying it,” Jimin shrugged with a knowing smile that Seokjin had desperately wanted to peel off his face. Now he’s face to face with the repercussions of his drunk actions, in the form of a small man sporting another oversized sweater and a fairly deceiving look of forbearance on his face.
Seokjin feels his feet carry him forward on their own accord. “Hi,” Yoongi says when he’s finally planted himself before him. Seokjin can’ bring himself to be cordial. “Is this about Saturday?” he asks instead, ignoring Yoongi’s greeting. Yoongi’s composure falters slightly, but he picks it back upright away. “Have lunch with me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Seokjin prompts impatiently.
“No. Maybe.”
“Maybe to what?”
“It being about Saturday. Have lunch with me anyway.”
Seokjin frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m asking you to,” Yoongi says patiently. “We go on break at the same time. Have lunch with me, please? My treat.”
Seokjin wants to be defiant like he always, the urge to bubbles in his chest instant. Yoongi is waiting patiently for an answer.
He stamps the urge out.
“Okay,” he says, and Yoongi smiles, pleased. Seokjin looks past him, trying to stamp out his accelerated heart rate, too. “Okay,” Yoongi echoes. “Is coffee okay?”
“Yes,” Seokjin replies, wishing for the interaction to end as fast as possible. Yoongi seems to sense it, as he steps aside to let Seokjin access to his desk. “There’s a cafe right across the street from here. Meet me there then?”
Seokjin nods in response, and Yoongi mirrors it before he takes his leave.
Time runs fast, faster than Seokjin can keep up with. He’s in the middle of wrapping up his report when his phone already lights up with a notification.
From: Unknown number >> 2:30pm
Hey, hyung
i’m here
just to let you know
Seokjin blinks at his phone for a second, trying to recall who he know who would text him that and why. His conversation with Jimin filters into his brain then, and he groans in recognition.
seokjin
min yoongi
who told you you could call me hyung
maybe: yoongi
ah
sorry
Can i call you hyung, hyung?
seokjin
absolutely not
Min Devil
Fair enough
anyway, take your time in coming hyung
i’ll hold off on ordering until you arrive
Seokjin bites his lip, trying to glare hard at his phone screen. A laugh is bubbling at the base of his throat. He swallows it down.
seokjin
wow
and they say chivalry is dead
He sets his phone down when he doesn’t get a reply, turning back to his laptop to save his work. He ignores Jimin’s pointed stares as he gathers his coat and heads out of the office.
The cafe is fairly empty when he enters it, so he doesn’t have to look hard to find where Yoongi is seated. He hesitates briefly, beforing making his way over, sliding into the seat across from him.
Yoongi looks up from his phone, a small smile blooming onto his face upon seeing Seokjin. Seokjin tries hard not to roll his eyes, tries hard not to mirror it.
“You came,” Yoongi says, setting his phone down. Seokjin trains his eyes on his clasped hands, and not his pinning gaze. He can see Yoongi’s smile lilting softly in his peripheral.
“What do you want,” he grumbles in defeat, tracing the lines of his hand veins with his gaze, up his arm until they disappear under his sleeve. He receives silence, and glances up to find Yoongi watching him carefully. Seokjin feels like he’s under a spotlight, can’t help the way his face warms involuntarily. “What?” he reiterates self consciously. Yoongi licks his lips.
“Why do you hate me?”
The question is straight to the point, so much that it’s a bit startling. Seokjin blinks twice.
“I don’t—” he starts on instinct, before he presses his lips together. “Did you...perhaps, talk to Jimin? That night?”
Yoongi nods in confirmation, and Seokjin sighs, deeply.
“I mean, it sounds childish when you say it like that,” he murmurs, which gets a wry chuckle out of Yoongi. “May I ask what was said?”
Yoongi blinks his gaze away, thinking for a moment. He sits forward in his seat.
“Well, he told me that you’ve been holding this grudge on me for a while,” Yoongi spoke slowly. “And I guess I kind of figured that, but it felt different hearing it from someone on the outside.”
“Ah,” Seokjin hopes he doesn’t look like he’s plotting Jimin’s death as feverently as he is, “That’s— well. To be fair , you had me convinced that you hated me , first.”
Yoongi furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “How did I do that ?”
Is he serious? Seokjin tries not to look as affronted as he feels. “You were so rude when you first came to the office. Why couldn’t you say hello back? You acted like you were better than everyone.”
Yoongi looks positively bewildered, and Seokjin can’t tell if he is sincerely as lost as he looks, or if he’s just a really good actor.
“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin prompts him, leaning forward. “Every time I would greet you, you’d walk by with barely even a nod.”
“That’s—” Yoongi spluttered, sitting back in his seat. He suddenly couldn’t meet Seokjin’s eyes. “That’s ‘cause I was nervous . I wasn’t— I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
Seokjin pauses. Yoongi’s sudden change of energy is unsettling. “Nervous?” He can’t tell if it’s the lighting or if Yoongi’s face is slowly coloring. “Then why do you always try to embarass me during office meetings?”
Yoongi’s head snaps up, and he quickly shakes it in denial. “I wasn’t!” He exclaims in defense. His brazen demeanor melts instantly, and he continues, much more quietly, “I was trying to impress you.”
Seokjin’s brows furrow too. He’s trying to pick up and solve the puzzles pieces as Yoongi is laying them down. “ Impress me? Why? Why would you want to impress me?”
It isn’t the lights that make Yoongi’s face flush with color. He sinks further into himself. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
“ Yes! ” Seokjin prods. “Of course I am! I’m tired of not knowing. I want this to make sense.”
Yoongi sets his lips with a muted sigh. “I thought you were cute,” he mumbles, sliding even further down into his seat. “Okay? I thought you were cute, and you made me nervous as fuck, and I wanted to impress you. Cause I thought you were cute.”
Seokjin blanks.
“What?” he barely chokes out. “You— what? ”
Yoongi glares at him, but there’s hardly any heat behind it. “Don’t have to rub it in.”
Seokjin’s heartbeat is rushing hard in his ears. He can feel his face heating up, hotter, hotter, hotter. “Rub in what? ”
“That you don’t like me! Why do you look so shocked?”
“Because—” he retorts, fishing for words. He racks his hand through his hair. “Because you don’t like me! You didn’t like me first, so I started not liking you, too!”
“Well, I just told you that that obviously was not the case!” Yoongi throw up his hands in retaliation. “I don’t! I like you a lot!” The bartender shouts at them sharply to keep the noise down, it two in the damn afternoon . Yoongi lowers his arms and his voice immediately, but his expression remains his hurt.
Seokjin slips his fingers through his hair again, trying to wrap his mind around everything that was just said in the last minute. Min Yoongi. Liked Kim Seokjin. Min Yoongi—
“Like?” Seokjin speaks up suddenly, and Yoongi’s mouth falls open in confusion. “You like me? Present tense?”
“Oh,” Yoongi breathes. “Uhm. Yeah. Present tense.”
“Oh,” Seokjin echoes. He can feel the weight of Yoongi’s eyes on him.
“Do you still hate me?” Yoongi asks after a pause. He sounds a little scared of Seokjin’s response. Seokjin sits on it, let’s Jimin’s voice flutter in the corner of his brain, you don’t hate him, hyung, you never really did. He says, “No,” and feels his chest thud at Yoongi’s small smile, “I don’t think— I never really hate you in the first place.”
Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “What was it then? If it wasn't hate?”
Hm. “Fear, maybe. Insecurity.” It feels like coughing up a stone, saying it, but, “I think I might’ve liked you too.” Yoongi’s hardly contained grin almost makes it worth it, though, as Seokjin bites his cheek to stop himself from mirroring it. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think that’s why I was as upset as I was over you. God, Jimin was right,” he buries his face in his hands. “I was so obsessed, wasn't I.”
Yoongi sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter, but not unkindly. “We can start over, can’t we?”
Seokjin peaks through his fingers. He contemplates the idea. It felt weird, thinking of going back to the office, where Min Yoongi isn’t his self-acclaimed enemy, where he doesn’t feel surges of irritation at purely glancing at his face.
Yoongi is smiling at him, soft, gentle, something maybe he’s always been. Something Seokjin has never let himself see.
“Yeah,” he exhales, feels himself smiling back. “Yeah, we can.”
Yoongi grins, extending his hand pleasantly. “I’m Min Yoongi, full time worker in the Department of Treasury and Insurance Management. I don’t like conflict. I have three cats. I would like to take my coworker on a proper date one day.”
Seokjin reaches out to shake it, letting his hand linger in his grip. “And I’m Kim Seokjin, full time worker as a Customer Service Representative. I don’t actually know how to hate people. I do hate cats though. I would accept a date invitation if asked.”
Yoongi looks thoroughly disgusted for a moment, snatching his hand back. “Kind of second guessing that offer right now, not gonna lie.”
“Sorry,” Seokjin says unapologetically. “No take backs.”
Yoongi’s faux disgust melts away into another easy grin. It catches Seokjin off guard, seeing his face split into two like that, his eyes scrunch up. It was mesmerizing, almost. And it was directed at him. Seokjin is positively brimming with warmth when he smiles back, knows his face is red as can be. For once, he doesn’t mind at all.
—
“You guys are what? ” Namjoon blurts out loudly. Seokjin hushes him, and Namjoon frowns apologetically. “Okay, okay, sorry. You guys are what?” he reiterates, his tone softened, but the urgency of panic still there. Seokjin pats him twice on the shoulder. “We’re not anything , Joonie. He asked me out on a date, and I said yes.”
“He did what .” Namjoon repeats in distress, while Jimin laughs delightfully beside him. “Oh, hyung, poor hyung,” he tsks, rubbing Namjoon’s back. “I felt the exact same way. You will get through this”
“Oh, shut up,” Seokjin berates him, wacking him in the shoulder with a nearby newspaper. “We’re going out to get a drink. An unintoxicated one, next week. Just to get to know each other. To start over.”
“Tell me how the sex is like,” Jimin nudges him slyly, to which Seokjin erupts a vibrant, saturated red, shoving him back. Jungkook peeks his head into the door before Seokjin can retort, greeting the three of them with a face splitting smile. He centers his gaze on Seokjin, then, calling out, “Congrats, hyung! I heard the Good News. Also I think Yoongi hyung is a bottom, if that information is pertinent to you. He likes it in the bottom, too, if you know what I mean.” Jimin falls over himself in a cackle while Seokjin absolutely sputters beside him. “I’m never telling any of you anything ever again,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. The sound of laughter rings through his ears.
They don’t end up winning. The other team only wins a victory lunch, though, so Seokjin isn’t all that bitter about it. Hoseok commented upon hearing the news, “Of course they won, they had Namjoon on their side,” to which Seokjin has no argument.
The stage they created was for a metaphorical festival, as they decided. They tried to incorporate interests and details from every member of the group, to make the stage as unique and personal as possible. Jungkook painted a celestial backdrop, while Hoseok bought the faux stars, and Yoongi directed the stage placement. Yoongi offers to take Seokjin home one evening, driving them on a detour to the park, where they sit on the swings and kick at sand and talk.
Seokjin learns that Yoongi is pretty when he smiles. He learns that Yoongi is pretty always, delicate in his simplicity, in the way his face fills in when he laughs, in the way his eyes shift when he talks, in the way he gets really hushed when he’s talking about the things and people he loves, in the way he treats words like they have purpose, like they’re delicate, too, meant to be cared for, meant to be loved.
Seokjin learns that Yoongi is delicate under the moonlight, that Yoongi taps his fingers on his thigh as he speaks like he’s counting a metaphorical beat in his head, that Yoongi looks at him when he speaks as if his words hold some importance, too.
Leisure is free, Seokjin finds, as the days come and go. Passing by Yoongi’s desk every morning doesn’t feel agonizing anymore. Yoongi’s cool stares don’t feel patronizing, his sardonic comments, simply that.
(“So, the pranks?” Seokjin asked, glancing back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook, both of which seem to find the situation extremely hilarious.
“Oh, that was me pulling the pranks” Jungkook clarified with a shit eating smile. “You’re boring though, ‘cause you never figured it out so I stopped.”
Seokjin stared at him in disbelief, while Yoongi desperately held in laughter to his side.)
“Why did you take on treasury if you’re so into architecture?” Seokjin asks, glancing over at Yoongi. He doesn’t look away upon finding he was already looking.
He shrugs. “Don’t know.” Kicks a little at the sand. “Was just a small dream. Never actually expected it to come to fruit.”
“Do you like managing money?”
“I mean, it’s okay. I’m good at it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I answered what you asked,” Yoongi looks at him teasingly. His eyes are stars for a moment there. Seokjin catches his breath.
Yoongi looks down, and kicks at the sand again. “Does it really matter, though? As long as you’re happy.”
“Are you happy?”
Yoongi blinks up at him, before glancing away with a small laugh. “What’s happiness to you?”
Seokjin shoves lightly at his shoulder, and Yoongi laughs again, through his nose. “I don’t know. Do you like your job?”
Yoongi nods. “I do.”
“Do you like waking up in the morning?”
“On good days.”
“So, are you happy?”
“In this moment? Yes,” Yoongi responds easily. “I think happiness comes in segments,” he then continues slowly, sounding like he’s picking his words carefully as he speaks. “It isn’t this grand thing we maybe paint it out to be. It isn’t this finish line, I don’t think, this trophy you obtain after running a specific time or distance. I try to stoop down to examine the pretty pebbles and say hi to cute animals I find along the way. I think happiness is made up of small joys. Things like that bring me small joys.”
“Looking at pebbles?” Seokjin laughs quietly, only slightly star struck, dazed.
It’s Yoongi’s turn to shove him back. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Namjoon recently, shut up.”
Seokjin is smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “Oh, I can tell.”
“Okay, whatever. What about you? Are you happy?”
Seokjin tilts his head curiously, thinking instantly of his small but comfortable apartment, the clean transportation systems of Seoul, the quiet lull in the early mornings when Seokjin heads out, almost as if the world was holding its breath just for him. He thinks of the laughs he’s shared with Jimin, the laughs with Namjoon, the laughs with his friends. He thinks of Yoongi, swinging gently next to him, tip-toes just barely reaching the ground, words slow and heavy and warm, who’s presence is gentle in its most sincere form.
He smiles. “In this moment? Yeah. I guess I am.”
Leisure is free, Seokjin finds.
— fin. —