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Yoongi likes to think that he’s done good things in his life. At the very least, he’s never done anything super terrible . He’s always donated a dollar during mass, and yeah, maybe he stopped going the instant he left his parent’s roof but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? He shares his umbrella with strangers when it rains and always tips generously and has never stolen anything in his entire life, ever. He’s a good person. And good people deserve good things.
So what he needs to know, is what in his life he’s done to deserve the way in which he’s being visually harassed by a stranger right now.
Okay, harassed might be a stretch. But Yoongi has been watching this stranger watch him for the past hour in his peripheral vision, and if he may be honest, he’s beginning to get a bit restless. Just slightly anxious. Paranoid, if you may. He has his keys gripped inbetween his knuckles (sharp sides out) so hard his hands have turned white, and he secretly reminds himself to murder Hoseok later, for ever recommending him this shop in the first place.
Come to this cute pastry shop I found, he said. It’ll be fun! he said . Every single day they had hung out, or caught a ride from each other, or even in Hoseok’s usual texts to remind Yoongi to take his meds, he’ll whine about Yoongi ignoring his recommendations and never appreciating his elderly brotherly advice. That’s when Yoongi will remind him that he’s technically the younger brother in this relationship, and that’s where Hoseok will accuse him of trying to change the subject.
It takes a month for Yoongi to finally cave, taking a detour home after a short day of work. He scrolled up to find the last time Hoseok sent him the shop’s location (half an hour ago, seriously Hoseok ), and copy-pasted it into his GPS. The shop was small and quaint but the interior felt welcoming and cozy, despite the AC running to shoo the heat from outside away.
The boy who met him at the counter was taller than him, and squinted down at Yoongi when he entered.
“You look like you want to be anywhere else right now,” Jeongguk had very keenly observed.
“I was held at gunpoint to check out this place,” Yoongi sighed. Jeongguk slid Yoongi a thin pamphlet, which Yoongi took and flipped over so he could scan. It was simply a menu, with presumably the shop’s contact info at the bottom. Cute business tactic. More creative than a business card.
“Do you know a guy named Hoseok by any chance?” Jeongguk asked, and Yoongi looked up questioningly.
“Red hair, short-ish, a little overbearing yet just as endearing?” He asked slowly.
Jeongguk pointed at him knowingly. “Always smells like vanilla and fresh laundry?”
The fond snort Yoongi let slip was involuntary, and he makes sure to remind Hoseok of that everytime the cheeky bastard reminds him. “Oh, I know a guy named Hoseok alright.”
Jeongguk nodded solemnly. “He told me you’d be here one of these days. But that was weeks ago, I was starting to think you wouldn’t show. He swore by it, though, so I guess I owe him ten bucks now.”
Yoongi shrugged big, finding himself more amused than apologetic. “Sorry about that. I’m a weak man when it comes to Hoseok.”
Jeongguk laughed understandingly. “Aren’t we all.”
It becomes a thing before he even realizes it, the way most things in his life do, as he begins to return more often than he thought he would. At first it was only once a week, and then it became every single day. It was mostly to say hi to Jeongguk and to help him clean up after his hours were done but also to work, to eat and to doze off. It’s been a fairly pleasant experience, so far.
Until now.
Yoongi finally rolls his eyes, fed up. In a burst of agitated courage but courage nonetheless, he looks up, trying to catch the eye of the perpetrator. He blinks, and his eyebrows furrow. He’s not there.
He’s not there.
“What the fuck,” Yoongi mutters, shaking his head. Was he imagining him all this time? When did he get out of Yoongi’s careful sight?
Yoongi purses his lips, and turns back around. And almost shits his fucking pants.
“What the fuck ?” he yelps, his back flattening against the chair. The strange man is sitting right in front of him, but he was at the counter two seconds again, and now he’s sitting in the booth across from him, he’s right across from him, and he’s grinning, for the love of god, and if Yoongi wasn’t going to kill Hoseok before there is nothing holding him back now.
“Did I scare you?” The man asks with a grin. Great. The fucker is cheeky, too. Yoongi sinks back in his seat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
“Who the hell are you?” He demands angrily. He is very not in the mood, and would like to never have to see the man again as soon as possible. The stranger draws back in faux offense at Yoongi’s tone. “I don’t think that’s any way to address a pastry shop owner.”
Yoongi stares at him.
“Is this a joke to you?” He squints at him in annoyance. “You’ve been watching me for the past hour like a fucking creep.”
“I apologize for that,” The man says, and he sounds sincere enough, but then again, that’s what most victims think. He won’t let his guard down. The stranger extends his hand out to him, which Yoongi stares at, and then back up at him. He keeps his hands right where they are, fisted in his lap.
“What do you want from me?”
The man casually draws his outstretched hand back, pursing his lips in thought. “Well, your name would be nice.”
Yoongi stares at him for a beat longer. “So essentially there’s nothing stopping me from calling the cops on you right now.”
The man laughs. Full on tilts his head back and scrunches his eyes, and Yoongi works his jaw in irritation.
”I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Your conversation isn’t welcome here,” Yoongi enunciated every word as if he were talking to a child. “I came here to eat this donut in peace and you, my friend, you’re disturbing it. My peace .”
The stranger pouts sheepishly. “And I said I was sorry.” He nods at the donut Yoongi was in the middle of eating before he got interrupted. “How’s the donut, by the way?”
Yoongi pauses, glancing at the thing in his free hand. It’s mostly crumpled, now, and whatever isn’t crumpled has been drenched in his own nervous sweat. Yoongi puts it down with a sigh, and brushes the crumbs off his hands.
“It was pretty good,” he admits. The man beams in front of him. “Sweet, but not too sugary. Just right.”
“Why, thank you.” He taps his fingers against the table happily. “I perfected that recipe myself.”
Yoongi’s displeased frown returns, as he eyes the man up and down. “You’re not the comedian you think you are.”
“I was a stand up comedian before I opened this store, actually.” The man beams again. He’s beginning to remind Yoongi of Hoseok. Except the two of them met on very different, less aggravating conditions. “Failed career, though. Evidently. My humor remains unappreciated.” The man clicks his tongue. “Maybe you just need to loosen up.”
Yoongi scoffs. “I don’t need to do shit.”
Mr. Hoseok Junior regards him with lips pursed in thought. “Is it too cold? Is that it?”
Yoongi groans, resting his head back against the chair. “There’s nothing either of us can do about the temperature, Christ why am I having this conversation with you?”
“Yes,” The stranger says, pointedly ignoring Yoongi’s last comment. “Of course there is. Jeongguk?”
The blueberry boy peeks his head out from the back of the shop, eyes glancing back and forth between the two of them. He raises his eyebrows in question at Yoongi, most likely in regards to the irritation clear as day on his face, but says nothing else, responding to the man across from him, “You called, Seokjin hyung?”
“I did,” Seokjin smiles. “Can you turn the heat up? Our customer here is a bit cold, and I’m trying to break the ice.”
Yoongi sees what he did there. And the pun was not funny. He bites down at his bottom lip and schools his features and sinks further into his seat.
“You mean Yoongi hyung? Are you too cold?” He directs the last question at Yoongi, who shrugs helplessly.
“Turn it up, anyway,” Seokjin says. “I’m feeling a bit cold, too.”
“Sir yes sir,” Jeongguk agrees with a salute, casting Yoongi one more glance before sliding back in through the doors.
Seokjin turns back to Yoongi, while Yoongi stares at the empty space where Jeongguk last was. The smile in his voice is evident when he speaks up again, even though Yoongi isn’t looking. “It’s Seokjin, In case you didn’t hear him the first time.”
“I did, thanks,” Yoongi says tightly. He abruptly stands up, gathering his trash in one hand and his coat in the other.
“Wait,” Seokjin frowns, following his movement with his eyes. “Where are you going?”
“ Home ,” Yoongi responds curtly. He hurls his trash in the bin, shrugging the coat on as he heads for the door. “Also,” he pauses, right before walking out. He turns back to wrinkle his nose at Seokjin’s pouting face. “I lied. The donut sucked. And tasted like donkey breath.”
He strides out without waiting to catch Seokjin’s response.
[4:23 pm]
Fuck you
hoseokie
i swear it was jimin not me
...wait what??
hoseokie
……
clarify what i’m being fucked for again
the pastry store manager tried hitting on me today and i need someone to blame for it.
what did jimin do…?
hoseokie
uhmmm
don’t worry about it!!
Yoongi squints down at his phone screen.
hoseokie
you should blame ur face not me
he obviously thought u were cute
why couldn’t he think someone else is cute
why me
hoseokie
why not you?
hyung. let people find u cute!!
ur a cutie pie!!
of course, don’t let people make u uncomfortable
it’s good and valid to have boundaries
but as long as his intentions are pure i say you give him a chance
okay mr. relationship therapist
you don’t even know the guy
hoseokie
i will soon :)
the manager, you said?
hoseok don’t u dare
…
hoseok???
—
He doesn’t know why he comes back.
It’s not for Seokjin, in case anyone specifically of the name Jung Hoseok asks. Three days was already incredibly hard. It felt like breathing in water after breathing clean air all your life. He was suffering from withdrawal . It was routine, going in to the donut shop everyday, and some stupid manager with a pretty pout and poor priorities shouldn’t stop him from completely his day. He’s been seriously craving some sweets, too, and grocery bought pastries were never able to hit the spot.
Jeongguk is slouching behind the counter on his phone when Yoongi pushes through the front door. He pouts at the sound of the bell ringing, sliding his phone away, ready to greet his next slight nuisance of the day. He lights up instantly, though, when his eyes shift and meet Yoongi’s.
“My favorite customer,” He laughs, drumming his fists on the table excitedly. “We thought you died.”
“Not yet,” Yoongi chuckles in return. “And who’s we?”
“Hyung and I,” Jeongguk says casually. He glances up at Yoongi with a little smile. “Seokjin hyung. He was pouting all over the place all weekend. Anyway, what will it be for today?”
Yoongi clears his throat, eyes skittering down to the counter top. He quickly schools his features with a smile.
“Maybe…a cupcake.” He nods to himself in confirmation, pulling his wallet out. “Any flavor. Surprise me.”
Jeongguk hums, tapping at his screen and accepting the money from Yoongi’s hands. “One cupcake it is.”
It’s incredibly satisfying, the familiarity of his seat as he settles into it. The sun filters in through the window and casts a circle of warmth over his head, and this is what he’s talking about. This is the life he was born to live. The cupcake Jeongguk chose for him is red velvet flavored with chocolate frosting, which is definitely surprising, and a bit out of Yoongi’s usual comfort zone. Jeongguk evidently fears nothing, though, and Yoongi’s always open to change, so he reminds himself to keep an open mind before he sinks his teeth into the sweet.
“Put that cupcake down...you're sweet enough already.”
Yoongi’s hand stops before the sweet enters his mouth. Closes his eyes, and inhales. When he opens them again, Seokjin is perched on top of the back of the chair diagonal to him. Yoongi casts a disturbed glance in his direction.
“Do you have any other personality trait besides insufferable?”
“Plenty,” Seokjin laughs. “I only unleash them on the third date, though.”
Yoongi scowls up at him wearily. “Are you implying something?”
“Not at all,” Seokjin says sheepishly, shifting himself until his ass slides off the chair’s back end and falls with a solid thud into Yoongi’s mini booth. Yoongi watches him, unimpressed.
“So what do you want now?”
Seokjin shrugs, folding his arms on the table. He smiles as Yoongi takes his first bite and hums in satisfaction. “We thought for a minute that you weren’t coming back.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you miss me?” He thinks for a moment, and then continues, “Or my money?”
“You, of course,” Seokjin responds instantly, sounding greatly offended. It takes him a moment to realize what he said, though, and he tries to backtrack quickly, clearing his throat, “I just mean— I’m not that shallow .”
“Just shallow enough to interrupt my peace with lame pick-up lines, though,” Yoongi notes lightly, taking another bite out of his cupcake. Seokjin pouts his bottom lip dejectedly, drawing circles on the table with a straw wrapper. “Touché.”
Yoongi dislikes the feeling curling up in his chest, watching Seokjin draw shapes into the table with his lip pushed out like that. He looks— Yoongi stops himself with a frown. He feels bad. He feels like he wants to see Seokjin smile again and okay, yeah, he strongly dislikes that.
He gives in to his internal monologue with a resigned sigh. “Tell me…” He clears his throat when Seokjin glances up, breath catching weirdly and eyes darting off somewhere else. “Tell me another shitty pick-up line.”
Seokjin’s face breaks out into a slow grin, as he leans back in his seat. He regards Yoongi thoughtfully, and his gaze drops down to the small pile of paper Yoongi scooted off to the left, out of harm's way from the crumbs raining down from his cake.
“Okay,” Seokjin says decidedly. “Aside from being pretty, what do you do for a living?”
Yoongi makes a sour face. “That was so corny.”
“Trust me,” Seokjin laughs. “I have worse.”
Yoongi bites down a smile. “Well,” he says, “Are you actually curious? Or was asking for the sake of your pickup line?”
“Of course I’m curious,” Seokjin responds as if Yoongi had asked him if skies were blue, “Tell me.”
So Yoongi tells him.
He tells him about his job as an interior designer and his exasperating boss, tells him about Hoseok and about his personal hobbies and about his old dreams and about his new ones and in turn Seokjin rattles off about his, about his old career and about his current one, about finding Jeongguk and making a new home. It’s unapologetic, the way Seokjin mentions that he’s gay, and just as unapologetic, the way that he grins when Yoongi says he is, too.
Jeongguk interrupts them mid dad-joke tournament, pointing a thumb back towards the shop’s front counter, and the growing line.
“Chaewon sunbaenim is on their lunch break so we need to split the counter.” He folds his arms, then, eyebrows raising dubiously and lips tugging into a smile. “Shouldn’t you be running the shop instead of poorly trying to flirt with our customers, hyung?”
“True,” Yoongi agrees, leaning his elbow onto the table. “Do you usually harass your customers like this?”
“Only the regulars,” Seokjin smiles cheekily, lifting himself out of the booth.
Saturday , The note reads when Yoongi returns to his booth after a quick bathroom break. He had stayed back again, waiting for Jeongguk’s shift to end so he could slip in a goodbye before leaving. The sun is beginning to turn in for the night and the shop is getting quieter, the world is settling down, and Saturday , the note reads. Han River, 10 a.m. The atmosphere is almost as beautiful as the bridge’s reflection over the water. Is it a date?
Yoongi stares down at the note, and then turns towards where Jeongguk stands at the register, closing up. Jeongguk catches his eye, then slips his gaze down to the note in his hand, and his face breaks into a smile. He quirks his eyebrows as if to ask, so what’ll it be?
Yoongi chuckles through his nose, sliding the note into his pocket. He gathers his coat and his papers, and slips his wallet away too.
“Yes,” Yoongi says, draping himself across the front counter, eyes following Jeongguk’s hands on the register, and then lifting to the satisfied smile draped across his face. “Tell him I said yes.”
[9:02 am]
fuck you
but a little bit less than last time
hoseokie
so i’m assuming it went well?
assuming what went well?
hoseokie
flirting with seokjin of course
….how do you know his name
hoseokie
nevermind that hyung
how did it go?
i swear i’m never telling you anything again
sneaky bitch
you don’t mean that
hyunggg
hyung ?
you still haven’t told me how it went
you can’t ignore me forever!!!
of course i can
try me
sneaky bitch
hyung, you barely held out two minutes
told you you couldn’t <3
now tell me how it went
don’t leave your wingman hanging
fine fine fine
he did ask me on a professional date
so yes, i’m assuming it went well
sneaky bitch but with love
A PROFESSIONAL DATE
my entire career as your matchmaker has led up to this moment.
i’m proud of you, hyung :)
now go get em tiger
:))
and please never use that phrase with me again
—
Seokjin hadn’t lied, the reflection of the bridge on the clear water was beautiful. He rocked forward onto his tiptoes, leaning his body over the railway, closing his eyes to the sound of couples passing by, to the smell of nature as the water rippled gently at their feet, to the soft of Seokjin’s jacket as he huddled close for heat. He exhales, opening his eyes again. Yeah, the reflection is beautiful. He looks at Seokjin then, who’s biting down into the last of his ice cream cone, and thinks he’d beg to disagree, though. The atmosphere is definitely better.
They bump shoulders gently on the walk back. Yoongi shakes the crumbs off his fingers, and hums curiously.
“What if I was straight when you started hitting on me?”
Seokjin blinks down at him. It was something to get used to, their size difference. It wasn’t Yoongi, per se, that was small, it was just Seokjin that was unfairly tall. Yoongi had grumbled this under his breath for the five minutes Seokjin spent laughing about it when they first stood face to face.
“Oh, trust me,” He chuckles. “If you were straight, I’d have known.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“What straight man would entertain my antics for as long as you did?” Yoongi opens, closes, and opens his mouth again to refute his statement, but Seokjin only bumps his shoulder once more with a laugh.
“Face it, you thought I was cute from the start.”
Yoongi huffs indignantly. “I thought no such thing.”
“Oh, you totally did,” Seokjin grins teasingly, leaning suddenly into Yoongi’s personal space.
“What-what are you doing?” Yoongi leans far back, his entire body warming up.
“Relax,” Seokjin murmurs, stepping in closer again. “There’s something on your face.”
Yoongi inhales sharply as Seokjin maneuvers in impossibly close to squint at Yoongi’s forehead, shoulders elevating up to his ears and fists balling Seokjin’s shirt in his hands. Carefully, the object of mystery is swept away.
Seokjin doesn’t step away when he’s done, though. He merely shifts his gaze, looking down at Yoongi curiously. If he sees Seokjin’s lip caught between his teeth, he tells himself that he doesn’t. He doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see it, he—
“Just kiss me, you idiot,” Yoongi mumbles angrily, tugging at Seokjin's collar. His giggly laughter is the last thing Yoongi hears before Seokjin’s lips meet his own.
Sweet, but not too sugary.
Just right.