Chapter Text
The countdown to your personal ‘ Doomsday’ –as you dramatically wrote on the calendar- started last September with a letter that screamed ‘danger!’ since you noticed the sender: Kim Taehyung.
You felt guilty just by reading his name, while these last four years made of missed phone calls, forgotten messages and never-sent-letters cascaded on your shoulder all at once, to the point where you almost threw it in the trash. However, boosted by your curiosity -and for that thin voice that whispered you: if you don’t like what you read, you can pretend you never received it - you finally opened it:
‘Since you skipped my graduation and all my birthdays, it’d be a huge honor to have you at my wedding. It’s on the 21 st April. C’mon (Y/N), you’ve got eight months to come up with a new good excuse to stand me up. Surprise me!’
You admit you laughed. You also admit that you immediately started to search for a good pretense that could permit you to avoid this torture; you weren’t emotionally or mentally equipped to open again a bracket of your life you thought locked for a long time. On the other hand, the simple thought that Taehyung would never forgive you for not being there during the most important and special day of his life made you panic, so you hadn’t any brainwave in the next months -spent in a mixture of joy and anxiousness-.
‘It’s just for a few days and then I’ll go back to my usual life,’ you repeated yourself like a mantra.
And when the time to close your small flat in Seoul came, you put on that perfect smile you practiced yourself to wear in these months only to let them see that never, not even for a second, you felt sorry for leaving Daegu.
You catch a breath and grip the bag tightly when you get off the taxi, breathing deeply the morning air of that city that for many years it’s been the scenery of every little event of your existence.
A cascade of bittersweet memories locked in a closet of your mind comes pouring out when you look around the bustling area, the attention caught by the bus just stopped on the other side of the street: it’s the 724 and you used to take it to go to school or to the centre, side by side to a small bean with odd dyed hair who slept all the time, resting his head on your shoulder.
Actually... one regret about Daegu exists, and you’re going to meet him soon.
Your heart beats faster when you replay in your head the only scene you always think of when someone asks you about this place: sweaty hands holding yours, bottom lip taught between white teeth, short blond hair smooth like silk, droopy liquid brown eyes engulfing into yours…
The last time you tread these few meters, the only boy you freely let step into your life hugged you tightly, before whispering in your ear with a cracked voice that Daegu would never be the same without you.
His name was Min Yoongi, he was your best friend, a failed love… And you didn’t hear from him since you abandoned this place.
Taehyung’s home is five minutes by foot from your own, but it takes you more than twenty minutes to see the brick building where you used to play hide and seek. You’ve stopped more than once along the way, paralyzed by the simple awareness that you’re going to sink again in his long almond eyes; but eventually, you’ve forced yourself to not call a taxi and so here you are, staring at the entrance while a mild queasiness starts brewing in your stomach.
When you ring the doorbell, you’re still in your own world, repeating yourself all those small talks prepared on the way: ‘Hi Tae! Good to see you! So you're finally getting married! Me? I’m doing great! I’m so sorry I haven’t been so in touch but you know how it goes: my job requires so much time that—Oh, I’d really like to stay a bit more but I think I left the oven on in Seoul—!’
Taehyung’ deformed shape through the rippled glass door approaching you shuts your mental babble up, and in the exact instant he opens, your mind becomes a wasteland.
“Who—” words get trapped in his lungs as his stare widens.
In all these months, you’ve believed this was as good a way as any for Tae to get back at you for swiping your friendship under the carpet. So you're prepared to face whatever comes next: tomatoes and eggs on your face, a door slammed on your nose…
“(Y/N)! Oh God, it's you! It's really you!”
… But that unexpected smile now shining on his face catches you off guard.
You raise a hand. “Hi Tae, it’s good— Uho !”
The boy wraps you into a bone-crushing hug, so tight that you can barely sense the ground beneath your feet. “You’re here!” he pulls apart, squeezing your shoulders. “I was starting to believe you’d call me and invented an excuse, as usual!”
“I couldn’t find a good one in seven months, I doubt I could’ve done it in five minutes,” you admit, jokingly, following him inside.
He gets your jacket off and hangs it over the hanger, glancing at you with a light smirk. “So…”
You let your sweaty fingers crawl on your knees. “So… You’re getting married.”
“It seems so.”
A veil of embarrassment falls upon you and it’s too thick to be ripped with a warm smile or a ‘sorry’. All the apologizes whirling in your mind until today lose meaning now that he’s here before you, in flesh and bones, scanning you with a kind of stare you can’t interpret anymore.
Then, that same force that was almost making you go back home, makes its way into your whole body and climbs up your throat, opening your mouth way before you could think of something logical to say. “Tae, listen. Forgive me for being a kind of ghost in these years, I—“
“Don’t!” he presses a finger on your stretched lips. “Tonight, I don’t wanna hear anything.” His smile widens. “I’ll pretend nothing happened. Today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” He giggles. “And I’ve got a week to get back at you for being a disaster.”
After a brief moment of astonishment, you exhale a small chuckle. “I’m cool with it.”
You were so scared that he could be mad at you to forget a simple tiny thing: he’s about to take an important step in his life and you’re finally here, living this moment with him; that’s what counts the most.
Tae rests an arm around your shoulders and guides you into the small dining room full of parents and friends –his mother almost killed you with her tight hug and an avalanche of questions, first of all: “Why is a beauty like you here without a boyfriend?”, ugh!- but amidst all those unfamiliar faces, the only one you’re curious (and frightened) to see is nowhere to be found.
You wonder how Yoongi will react when the pair of you will finally meet.
You admit you often fancied bumping into him in Seoul: while being at the store, in the subway, while drinking a coffee on your way home… Yet it never happened, and it assumed slowly but steadily the shape of a fantasy comparable to the billions you had when you were younger -in which you met your favorite singer and lived with him exciting adventures-.
Anyway, you aren’t here for him. You’re here for the marvelous man beside you and for his gorgeous half on the other side of the room, busy chatting with some relatives. You wave at her, when she pinpoints you next to a table full of sandwiches and sweets, and she catapults over you, wrapping her thin arms around you.
“(Y/N)! I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Me too.” You hug her back. “Congratulations!”
Euna is beautiful as the last day you saw her, with a jumpsuit on and a luggage full of souvenirs bought in Seoul. You thought she was just another fleeting soul in Tae’s universe –if your love life has always been catastrophic, he’s always been a step ahead- and now she’s here, showing you her engagement ring.
“Well well.” You smirk. “Looks like someone’s making money here.” You give him a sidelong glance.
Tae shoves back his brownish hair. “Only the best for the wife-to-be of the ‘ Calvin Klein’s diamond’ .”
You grimace. “Oh, shut up. Kim WooBin’s more handsome.” You grin when he tries to retort. “Aha, today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” The left corner of your mouth quirks up as he curses between his teeth before making his rounds with the guests, leaving you two chitchat.
You focus on Euna, now busy recounting every aspect of their wedding. She’s so enthusiastic you’re almost forgetting where you are, how much time passed, how many things you lost willingly…
You’re about to think that there was no need to spend so many sleepless nights finding an excuse to skip this event, that she abruptly says: “Tae told me about Seokjin. I’m so sorry…” and you immediately wish for this week to end instantly. “I can’t believe he left you after all these years! What a jerk…” she huffs, tucking her long dark hair behind the ears.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine…” you twiddle with your bracelets. “And, anyway, I’ve someone. I got a cat named Mochi and believe me, he’s better than a man: he’s silent, sweet, he doesn’t get me mad. He’s a bit dumb but still lovable,” you conclude with a rather unsuccessful attempt of a smile, at which she responds with a dim one.
She’s about to reply but the doorbell ring saves you from an awkward conversation.
“Gees, he’s always late.” She looks heavenward.
“Who?”
“Yoongi, of course!” She puts her hands on her hips, smirking at the guy who just walked in, bjsy bickering with Tae. “You’re late!”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear the alarm clock.”
You stiffen at the sound of a voice raspier than you remembered, and the sight of the boy standing in the doorway snaps you back to reality.
‘Yoongi…’
You barely think his name, scared that he might disappear only pronouncing it out loud...
He seems a bit dazed, as soon as his eyes lay on you, but he eventually manages to say: “Hi (Y/N)…” while a dim smile etches itself on his face.
The blond-haired boy of your adolescence has eclipsed behind a tall man with broader shoulders, messy raven hair with an undercut and more masculine features. The only unchanged thing is his eyes: droopy, coffee-like, with a glint of sweetness that scratches their indifference in the exact instant they engulf into yours, wide and liquid -if it wasn’t for them, you’d swear he’d be one of the handsome Tae’s co-workers…
His stare softens when he notices you’re torturing your bracelets. “You look good.”
You rack your brain frantically to think of something to say, but you can only mutter: “Yeah… You too.”
He brushes past you and his good fresh scent almost makes your legs tremble, like leaves in the wind. He rolls up his chequered sleeves sloppily, then he pulls back his hair…
Where the hell did he hide all this sexiness when you were neighbors?!
“(Y/N)?”
“Eh?” you blink. Oh, God, did he notice you were gawking at him?! “W-what?”
“I asked you how you’re doing in Seoul,” Yoongi repeats, giving you a glass full of you-don’t-know-what-it-is-but-let’s-hope-it’ll-get-you-drunk-soon. “I know you work for Vogue’s Korea .”
“Oh, yes… I’m just a secretary, though. But it’s pretty cool! I’m going to San Francisco’s for Victoria’s Secret showroom next month!” you exclaim, and Yoongi watches you with that endearing smile he always wore whenever you babbled about your dreams or projects.
“I’m glad for you.”
He changed so much from the sad boy you left in front of his home with the pledge to call him every day -and the odd thing is that he looks at you as if you’ve kept your promise-that you’d like to submerge him with questions and discover a bit of his life.
However, Tae’s mother interrupts you with the plea to take a photo of you three together because “It’s been ages since you were all reunited!” and you can’t help but tenderly smile while she bickers with Tae. Then, she shoves you between those you once used to call ‘My Daegu boys’ -two men now so distant from you that you really don’t know what kind of box you should put them in.
On one side, there’s Taehyung, a friend who constantly kept you updated about the news in his life. On the other side, instead, there’s a grown-up Yoongi of whom you practically don’t know anything.
You only know your heart flips in your chest whenever your eyes meet, just like it did when you were two friends spending your nights having long pillow talks... and this is not a good sign.
Despite every prediction, the party goes on fast and smooth as silk and before you could realize it, you’re already heading back home in the silent street, glancing at all those colored signs covering the multi-storied buildings without really seeing them.
You replay this night endlessly, searching for the tiniest detail that could make you understand if Yoongi put on a façade of peacefulness only to not ruin Tae’s moment, or if he isn't truly bothered by your presence here.
You sigh, tightening more into your jacket.
You can’t stop wondering what might have been if you had kept in touch. You’ve always stated that nothing nor nobody could break a friendship like yours but despite your beliefs, just the distance has been enough to wreck it...
Why did you distance yourself from him so much?
“(Y/N)?” at the sound of your name –pronounced in an unmistakable way that shakes you up- you gaze over your shoulder, watching Yoongi come closer. “Are you running already away?”
You puff your cheeks. “I’m not!”
He lightly chuckles once beside you. “I’m joking.” He jams his hands in his leather jacket pockets and takes a long pause. “Tae was scared you wouldn’t have come, you know?” he finally says, giving you a sidelong glance.
You’d like to tell him: “What about you?” but you bite your tongue, focusing on your conversation. “I didn’t want to,” you admit, “We didn’t really stay in touch, I was surprised when he sent me the invitation. But I don’t still feel too comfortable, I’ll probably lock myself in my room until the wedding day.” You throw him a quick glance. “But I’m glad they thought of me, despite all,” you conclude, smiling genuinely while looking at your feet. “I’ll use these days as a break from work!”
He sags in his shoulders but a light grin still stays on his face. “Life in Seoul must be pretty hectic.”
“It is…” you nod, trying to scrape that sense of guilt now encrusting your heart. “What about you, instead?”
Yoongi seems somewhat taken aback by this question. “I’m fine. I’m a photographer for a magazine.”
“Oh, it’s true…” you nod. “Sorry for not coming to your graduation.”
“I didn’t come to yours too…” he moistens his lips. “Anyway, now I live in Ilsan with my girlfriend and—“
“Girlfriend?!” you squeak. “Holy God! Who is she? Where did you meet—“ you swallow back every question when the tip of his ears turns scarlet. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away…” you let out a nervous giggle, toying with your bracelets. “I really missed a lot of things over these past years.” Your voice escapes more sad that you’d like for it to be, but fortunately he doesn't seem to take notice of it.
Yoongi shrugs. “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up.” He slows down the pace when the pair of you approach his home. “Good night, then.”
You nod, taking those few steps from your house to his. Then, as an electroshock just crossed your body, you whirl around to face him. “Yoongi?” you wait for him to look at you, sinking in his eyes veiled with curiosity. “It was nice to see you again.”
This is too formal for two people who’ve spent half their lives going through the roughest times together, but maybe you can’t expect more from someone who probably wasted his time next to a phone that never rang. In fact, Yoongi replies with a wave and enters the house, leaving you alone.
‘What did you expect? Fireworks, hugs and tears?’
When you scamper in your bedroom though, after preparing yourself to go to bed, a paper ball flies from the window, rolling on your bed.
Your eyes grow bigger when you open it:
‘When you want to play together, just whistle.’
You lift your head up, glancing at Yoongi’s window.
This is the same thing he wrote to you a few days after you moved to Daegu for your father’s promotion. You were so scared and angry that you never left your bedroom and you always grunted at your mother’s “Why don’t you go playing with the neighbor’s son? He’s nice.” because he wasn’t nice, he was… Strange . He always peeped at you from the window and every time you caught him staring, this small bean turned red and hid behind the curtains.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you, you were pretty scary,” he once admitted.
That day, you kept to yourself that you still conserve that kind of paper airplane that established the begin of your friendship.
You smile, watching his shadow dancing along his blue walls behind the thin white curtains.
Yoongi always knows how to make you feel at home.
You don’t see Yoongi until Tuesday.
It’s morning when you open the door and find him standing there, with a light shade of pink coloring his cheeks and a dim smile that slowly turns into a grin when he glances at your pajama or mad hair.
You’d like for a hole to open beneath your feet but eventually, you manage to mutter: “Yoongi?” crossing your arms on your chest to hide that embarrassing penguin print from his sight. “It's… nice to see you.”
It’s not like you’ve waited for him to visit you, but in these sleepless nights spent staring at his bedroom, you admit you’ve lowkey hoped for him to tap at your window just like he used to do when you were children. But the lights always turned off, making all your memories vanish into thin air.
It’s weird how easily things can change, from living in each other’s pockets to not saying more than a few sentences a year through dull texts, without feeling any gaping hole of absence.
“Yoongi isn’t mad at you. If he was, he’d already given you the cold threat at the party,” Tae told you the other morning, behind a mug full of tea you prepared for him. “He may be changed for many things but when it comes to you, I think he’s still the same. He always asked me about you and whenever I told him ‘(Y/N)’s happy’ he seemed truly relieved.”
“Do you need something?” your stare dances from his veiny hand scratching his neck, to the Rolex around his wrist, and finally lay on his eyes crinkling in the corner.
“I just wanted to make sure you won’t lock yourself in your bedroom until Sunday,” he jokes, drumming his fingers on his hips. “Actually, your mother asked me to invite you to go out a bit.” He sniffs. “She’s starting to mold on that sofa!” he mimics her with a high-pitched voice and you turn crimson. “So… I gotta go to the center. It won’t take me too long.”
You cast a glance at your outfit. “Better not. I’m a mess—“
“You look fine to me,” he interrupts, softly, scratching his hair when you furrow. “A pair of jeans and a shirt will do. Take all the time you want—But don’t take as much as you did when you had to go out with Hoseok.”
“Again?! It was my first date! I wanted to be beautiful—“
“Because the great Jung dude asked me out, every girl would scalp me right now, bla bla bla, I remember…” he pokes the tongue on his cheek. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Yoongi’s got the same expression he had when you were desperately searching for a decent dress to wear, electrified that the coolest boy in the entire school wanted to watch the last Spider-Man movie with you.
Now that you think about it, you don’t clearly remember how that date went. You only remember you came back home earlier than you expected, and Yoongi was waiting for you in front of his house, sat on the stairs. The only sight of his snapback, his reddish hair, and his oversized hoodie made you feel in the right place, a sensation you didn’t feel whenever Hoseok held your hand or looked at you with his beautiful genuine smile.
Out of the blue, Yoongi asked you if you two kissed and when you shook your head, he leaned out and sealed his mouth with yours, abruptly kidnapping you from the silent contemplation of the streetlamps.
Your first kiss felt strange and humid. It wasn’t really as you always fantasized while watching movies. The protagonists used to tilt their head, cup the partners’ faces … Instead, you were so stunned that you only closed your eyes, enjoying the odd sensation of your tongue slowly and clumsily caressing his own.
“It’s better that I’ve kissed you first. Or you’d have wasted it with someone who doesn’t even know you still make wishes on shooting stars,” he told you after inching away from you, hiding his scarlet face in the crook of your neck.
You always sensed that Yoongi felt something deeper for you but he never confessed and you never asked, too scared that your friendship could turn into something serious and get ruined as time passed by.
“I can’t believe it! You must be kidding me!” you stare at Yoongi’s phone. “You’re engaged with Aina Saito! No way!”
Yoongi grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, preventing you from smashing against a man coming in the opposite direction. “Why so surprised? Is she too beautiful for me?”
You gasp, feeling your ears charring. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… She’s one of Kenzo ’s models! How’d you react if I were married to Yoo Jitae?! You know how much I love him!”
“No. You just love his ass.”
“Of course I do. It seems so… made of marble,” you say and Yoongi bursts out laughing, holding tighter the plastic bag full of rolls of film for his camera –you’re in the twenty-first century and he’s probably the only photographer who doesn’t use digital cameras. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
You look at their picture. Even if she captures your attention with her raven hair and big doe hazel eyes, you can’t take your eyes off Yoongi: he’s got this sweet smile while she rests her head on his shoulder, and his odd purple hair or that cute black spotted tie doesn’t intact the elegance of the suit he’s wearing.
“Were you at some gala?”
He shakes his head. “My colleague’s wedding. I was the best man.” He squelches a chuckle. “It’s funny. Namjoon, that’s his name, well, he’s always been against marriage. Then one day he came to me and told me: ‘I’m getting married’ , and now he’s about to become a father.” He scratches the back of his nape. “Love really changes people.”
You narrow your brow. “Does this mean I should expect an imminent invitation to your wedding?”
Yoongi snaps his tongue. “Hey, don’t say it as if I were against it. You were!”
“And I still am!”
He gives you a serious sidelong glance, then he dimly smiles. “I remember you wanted a white dress, and a church full of daffodils.”
Sure. That was before your parents got divorced, your mother was devastated, and you discovered how comfortable the silence of your flat was.
“And end up like my mother? No, thanks…” you give him back the phone. “You two seem really happy. I’m glad for you. Will she come here for the wedding?”
Yoongi lightly nods. “She’s working these days.” He stares at the phone for a couple of seconds, then he puts it in his jeans pocket. Judging from his expression, he doesn’t seem intent on deepening the conversation but after such a revelation, you can’t restrain your curiosity.
“How did you meet?”
You can tell by the way he’s pushing his tongue on his cheek that he’s regretting carelessly letting you peer at his lock-screen. “I was in Tokyo for work, three years ago. My company hired me for the Puma campaign and once I’d been obliged to go to this stupid after-party. I spent the whole night at the bar and suddenly this gorgeous woman sits next to me and says: ‘You seem pretty bored, do you want some company? ’. I thought she was talking with someone else.” He chuckles. “Before I could realize it, I had her number in my phone-book and a date for the next afternoon.”
You contemplate his profile, his relaxed expression while he shares a bit of his life with you. It truly touches your heart to know that Yoongi’s finally found the happiness he never had when you were younger, but there’s this strange itching that pinches your stomach if you think that you’ve never been good enough to make him understand what a wonderful person he is.
“I talked to her once,” you say, catching his attention. “I was in Paris for a fashion show. She was so beautiful, I immediately understood why my colleagues envied me so much.” You giggle and Yoongi’s eyes become two sweet half-moons. “During the interviews, I talked to her! Well, I only told her she was amazing but she was so polite and funny.” You toy with your bracelets. “She’s nice.”
Yoongi nods. “She’s been the third woman I could naturally talk to without feeling stupid.”
“The third?”
“Well, my mother was the second. And then there was you.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip at that confession and you wide your eyes, feeling a piping hot warmth exploding in your chest. He pulls back his raven hair, unable to hide that odd expression now dawning on his face - as if he’s going to reveal he’s Batman or something.
But whatever he was about to say vanishes in the ring of his phone. Yoongi curses between his teeth. “Sorry. It’s probably for work.” He picks up. “What do you want, Joonie? I told you to not call me when I’m on holiday—Ugh, ok…” he spares you one last glance. “Sorry, I’ll come back soon—It’s none of your business who I’m talking to!” he turns his back, hiding his crimson face.
You chuckle.
Yoongi’s the same. He’s a bit grouchy but a good man at heart; and this Aina must be pretty cool if she’s been able to wreck that shield that protects him from the rest of the world.
Your mother always told you that you were made for each other: you were the only one capable of squeezing him out his shell, and he was the only guy you treated carefully, paying attention to not hurt him in any way. But at that time, your feelings were so messed up that you didn’t even try to give them a shape and before you could listen to them, you were buying a one-way ticket to Seoul.
You turn, observing him from head to toes. You admit he’s pretty sexy with that black T-shirt tucked into his jeans that perfectly defines his slim figure, the way the bracelets dance around his thin wrists, and the confidence in every gesture is an electric shock to your heart.
You ignore that sudden twitch in your stomach and you cast a glance at the ‘for sale’ sign hung on a window. When you realise where you are, you feel catapulting to an excruciating path of your childhood: the afternoons spent on the stairs watching the street, sharing the earphones with Yoongi who never left your hand and whispered you that everything would be fine again, sooner or later; the silence of his dark bedroom and the crushing-bones hugs while his tears drenched your shirts...
“The Bins…” you whisper when Yoongi approaches you again. “It can’t be closed! No way!” you shake your head frenziedly. “Its pastries were the best in the whole universe!”
“It’s already two years.” Yoongi follows your stare. “We always hid here when something went wrong.”
You glance at his serious expression and an uncontrolled warmth makes its way into your chest, placating your throbbing heart.
The first time Yoongi took you here, your father had already disappeared for two weeks. You thought it was a momentary crisis but when you mother babbled about ‘divorce’, you stopped waiting for him on the stairs, cocooned in a blanket. Yoongi offered you a piece of apple-pie and a hot chocolate, spending the few savings he put aside with his part-time job as a pizza-getter only to take out his little girlfriend of that time.
The last time you took him here, he was wearing the same white shirt for two days, the black tie around his neck was loosened, and his odd bluish hair was greasy. His mother had been dead for two days but in his swollen red eyes, it seemed it had already passed ten years. With a cracked voice he asked you: “When will it stop hurting?” but you never replied to him.
There’s no expiration date for sorrow.
“I really hope you’d enjoy their last pies,” you say, sulkily.
Yoongi pauses. “I… stopped coming here since you’ve been gone,” he admits with a low voice, gnawing his bottom lip.
You toy with your bracelets. “Did you come back to Daegu often after you moved?”
“Of course, whenever I can. I love this city, unlike you…”
You’d like to reply but a lump in your throat impedes you to talk.
You can’t interpret the meaning behind his last speech but something tells you that Yoongi would like to submerge you with an avalanche of many other words. For the moment, he only talks about futile things while wandering through the town, making you rediscover the inner beauty of Daegu.
It’s a hot Tuesday afternoon when you discover that Yoongi isn’t the shy boy you used to know anymore, while you’re still the girl who doesn’t see the time to run away from this place.
The next time you see Yoongi is at his father’s diner.
You didn’t have the intention to meet him, but when you passed in front of the big windows and glimpsed at his shape through the glass, you went back way before your brain could scream: “The fuck are you doing?!”
As long as that Tuesday morning spent together demonstrates to you that Yoongi doesn’t hold any grudge against you, you still sense that there’s a high thick wall that you had been able to wreck when you were little, brick after brick.
The bell above the door rings when you walk in, announcing your presence, and when he instinctively lifts his head up, a light flush spreads from the collar of his shirt to his cheeks, now pulled up. A nostalgic smile etches itself on your face when you recognize the small boy who used to play video games with his headphones on behind the counter and looked around bored, waiting for you and Tae to arrive and save him.
In the present, Yoongi checks some bills with his usual pout and doesn’t look like someone who needs to be saved; and yet, that smile he freely delivers to you as soon as you approach him makes you lose the ground beneath your feet.
“I didn’t expect you to come here,” he says when he’s done to serve a client. “How was your day?” he inquiries, crossing his arms on the counter.
You swallow at the sight of his veins branching along his skin, at his long elegant fingers with some rings wrapped around them drumming on the wooden surface… geez, he's so manly to run your mouth dry. However, his left eyebrow arched brings you back down to reality and you manage to say: “Tiring. I’ve spent the whole afternoon helping Euna with the last things. If someone will ever ask me why I don’t want to get married, I’ll tell them I never recovered from today.” You chuckle and Yoongi follows you, flashing you his marvelous gummy smile that always made you prefer spending your days with him rather than your solitude. You take a look around the dim-lit room, observing all the clients sitting around the tables. “Sorry if I bumped here, you’re working—“
“I’m not.” He scratches the nape of his neck. “Well, I am. One of the waitresses is sick so my father asked me to help, and since Tae’s so busy I didn’t have anything better to do.” He avoids your stare.
A sudden awareness painfully tugs at your heart, as it makes its way in your mind: you aren’t anymore the ‘better’ in his life. He could’ve knocked on your door asking for your company; instead, he preferred working.
Your guts squirm as a thin voice inside of you whispers: ‘What did you expect? To still be the most important girl in his life? He’s engaged, did you forget it?’
C'mon, we're not talking about an ordinary girl like you, but one who fulfills half South Korea’s fantasies!
And even if she wasn’t so famous, why should he prefer a girl who trampled on his heart, when she's certainly the one who took good care of him, healing all the scars you left him?
“Then I should really let you work.” You plaster a smile, sparing one last glance to the room where you, Tae and him used to reunite after school. “Well, see you—“
“No, stay…” he stops you, softly, toying with his rings. “If you don’t mind waiting a bit… We can do something together, later,” he abruptly says, biting the right corner of his mouth.
“No, I’ll probably go home. You gotta work—”
“Then I’ll walk you home.” He scratches his crimson ear.
You smirk, raising your chin. “Are you scared that a delicate flower like me may incur some danger all alone at night?”
“Actually, I’d be scared for your assailant.” He bursts out laughing when you sharpen your eyes. “C’mon, don’t look at me like this! Have you forgotten that time you punched Jongin? He was reading out loud the love letter I wrote to Aeja. You went all berserk when you saw me crying… You were such a tomboy.” His expression softens. “I never truly thanked you for being so—“
“Rude? Stupid? A killer?”
“Nice…” he says quietly, “I was such a cry-baby, back then. I felt guilty when they suspended you for more than a week.”
Of that far away May, you remember only your mother’s scorching gaze, her cold shoulder… and Yoongi coming to your house every single day after school. He stayed in your bedroom doing homework, he let you play his video games and spent all his pocket money buying you your favorite snacks. He said that school wasn’t the same without you and the day you came back, he had this huge gummy smile that ran from cheek to cheek… the same that danced across his features wet with tears when you took him by the hand and walked back home together, leaving Jongin cleaning his bleeding nose.
Essential, that’s how Yoongi made you feel.
That’s what you’re missing right now, while you see him text –certainly- with his girlfriend: he’s finally built his life, and you aren’t part of it anymore. But when he lifts his head up and his shimmering eyes engulf into yours, you’ve got the presumption that your soft shy boy is still there, trapped in a masculine body and with a contemptuous expression.
Your heart flickers in your chest as he delivers you a gentle smile, and you realize you don’t want this night to end. You want to keep him with you as long as possible, even if just for one night…
“Today’s Thursday, there’s the local fair…” Yoongi munches the corner of his mouth, unsure. Then, his eyes become two sweet half-moons and stares back at you as if he’s put aside all his doubts and questions. “Would you like to go?”
You smile back. “Why not?”
… You want to be thrown back once more to those moments where he looked into your eyes and you felt on top of the world.
Now that Yoongi’s a grown-up man with a good pay, and you’re a carrier woman who can pay her own dinners in a fancy restaurant without waiting for a guy to take out his own wallet, you should buy your own cotton candy.
You should, but you don’t.
Yoongi walks beside you, keeping the cotton candy you’re sharing. His laugh is raspy, amused, while you recount him about how you passed from being a secretary in charge of coffee and photocopies to be your chief’s right-hand; or how he sometimes sends you on the other side of the world alone because he trusts your abilities and knows you can handle everything alone.
He whistles. “I understand now why you’re unavailable.”
“I told you!” you elbow him lightly. “He gets invitations for every runaway show, and he brings me with him most of the time. It’s really tiring and stressful, but I love it.” You take a piece of cotton candy between your fingers, as a light giggle escapes from your mouth. “Once he took me to Las Vegas, it was my first time there. There’s something magical in it! And he’s also a good man,” you conclude, eating the candy.
Yoongi caresses his chin. “I imagine he must be something more than a simple chief...”
“He’s married to his job. And me too.”
He scratches the back of his ear, twiddling with his two earrings. “So… You don’t have time for anybody in your life right now?”
You clean your sticky fingers. “There was someone…” you admit, giving him a sidelong glance to study what kind of expression might be dawned on his face. “But I guess that Tae told you everything already.”
He blushes and pouts. “He just told me you had a boyfriend, but now you don’t. He never explained why you two broke up, and I didn’t ask.” He shrugs, before rolling up his sleeves sloppily.
You chew on your bottom lip, unsure about where to begin. You repeated the same few words so many times in your head it shouldn’t be too hard for you to plaster a smile and tell a simple: “I’ve asked him to move in together but he refused”... but the fact is: things are slightly different as you had recounted them to Tae or your mother.
Yoongi is different...
Your heart skips a beat at this thought, before starting to throb noticeably faster. You stop staring at the trails of colorful small lanterns that guide you throughout the stands and when you meet Yoongi’s eyes, in which stream a mixture of tenderness and curiosity, words tumble off your tongue. “His name’s Seokjin. I met him at a conference and he was soooo—God, you don’t have any idea how handsome he is! He’s got these big broad shoulders that—” you cough as Yoongi grimaces. “I was happy with him, he was a constant presence in my life but I didn’t notice we were really together until he left some of his clothes in my wardrobe. He said that it was just for practicality, so he didn’t have to take a luggage whenever he came to visit me from Gwacheon… but..” your words trail off mid-sentence, as you focus your attention on some children playing.
“It’s so strange to see you with someone. You’ve finally found the right one!” Tae candidly confessed when you introduced them to Jin, during a last-minute dinner you organized when they were in Seoul for work; and at that statement, you simply smiled, almost believing in his words. However, reality took you aback and you soon came to the realization that a twice-a-month-weekend spent together is definitively different from sharing an entire life.
“Then what happened?” Yoongi presses further as if he’s sensed that something’s wrong.
You wonder how much he knows, and how he’ll react when he’ll find out the truth. You pause, words are glued on your palate. “He asked me to move in together and I refused… So he left me.”
Jin’s big liquid eyes at your candid “No.” still scorch you when you least expect it, as much as his feeble “But… Do you love me, (Y/N)?” comes to haunt you whenever you start to notice that you’re dating a guy for too long.
You aren't punishing yourself for your behaviour toward him, it’s just… if you weren't able to cultivate your relationship with Seokjin, you highly doubt someone else will be able to do what he couldn't sort out: to help you to overcome your fear that entangling your existence with someone else's life isn’t so smothering as you’ve always thought.
And when you arouse your interest from your bracelets to Yoongi’s bemused expression, you realize he already knows everything -or at least the story you’ve told to everybody-.
“You’re the first I tell the truth,” you start, “It’s easier in this way. I couldn’t stand their faces, otherwise.” You lightly chuckle, feeling his sombre eyes boring through your skin. “Tae would spend his days making me feel guilty, my mother would jam my voice mail because she thinks that there’s something wrong with me.” You lower your head. “I can imagine her saying: Seokjin is just another failure.”
“He probably wasn’t the right one,” Yoongi analyses, after a brief pause.
“Probably. Move in with someone is an important decision, you can’t take it light-heartedly.” You clasp your hands behind your back. “You know? After two years with him, I believed it’d be hard getting used to solitude once again. Then I opened my wardrobe, I saw only my clothes and… I dunno, I felt so relieved. I thought: there’s much more space for me now.” You exhale an airy laugh.
Yoongi dimly smiles. “I can’t really imagine you seriously with someone…” his stare widens when he hears his own words. “I mean… you always ran away whenever a relationship started to become serious.” He scratches his scarlet ear. “Sorry…”
“Don’t worry…” you pause, then you shake your head, trying to not bother too much about his comment. “But maybe it’s better like this. He’s happy now, with someone who really loves him.”
“You didn’t?”
“If I did, I’d accepted his proposal immediately.” You toy with your bracelets, narrowing your brows when a strange question pops out in your mind. “How have you understood you love Aina?” you swallow, feeling your heart beating in your ears, loud and noisy.
Yoongi blushes, caught off guard by your question. “I just… knew it.” He pokes the tongue on his cheek. “One morning, I woke up and she was next to me. We didn’t have sex, we just fell asleep before she could go away. And I understood that I didn’t want her to go back home. I wanted for my home to become hers.” He lowers his voice. “It’s about the things I’ve always wanted to build as an adult and who I wanted to share them with.” His eyes engulf into your eyes, and you catch a strange glint crawling in them. “She’s been the first for whom I felt like this.”
Something breaks deep down inside of you.
Seeing Yoongi so into deep with someone is comparable to a hit against a brick wall, and as long as you always believed you were the only one to fulfill his fantasies, you start now to realize how wrong you were. Probably, along the way of your growth, there was a moment where Yoongi felt something deep for you but it never sprouted out for him.
It did for you, instead, at a certain point.
More than once your heart bumped differently whenever it came to him, but you start to believe it was just a matter of habit, amplified by the simple fact that you were always glued to each other.
You try to placate your aching heart but the way Yoongi caresses you with his stare isn’t of any help. He’s got the expression of someone who’s desperately trying to tell you something that could trigger an emotional outburst none of you could recover from; but if in the past he’d have said for sure the wrong thing, he now stays silent.
You distract when some children brush past you. You follow them with your stare, being guided to the only point that brings back so many memories you forget you were having a serious conversation.
“The fishing stand…” you scamper toward it like a moth to a flame, and you crouch down, mesmerized by the refreshing sight before you.
Yoongi’s immediately behind you, then he crouches down beside you, watching a child try to catch the fishes with the paper net. When it breaks, one of them starts to fuss.
You chuckle. “God, I was just like him! Do you remember when I cried so much that in the end, you gave me all your fishes—Uh!“ whatever you were about to say, rolls back in your throat.
Some kids next to you accidentally shove you when they want to watch closely, and you lose balance, landing on Yoongi’s chest. He curses between his teeth when he hits his butt on the ground, and as long as you know you should move away, you can’t help but stay there in his light embrace, cuddled by the sound of his throbbing heart.
It pumps hard, just like it did whenever you fell asleep on his chest, when you were dancing at the prom, when you were going to leave Daegu… A sudden warmth crawls through your veins, it spreads on your face now on fire, and it gives you enough energy to get on your feet… but you can't move.
Yoongi squeezes his hands on your shoulders, and you now realize that his arms –definitively more masculine than you remembered- are actually wrapping you firmly.
You swallow thickly. “Yoongi, hey--”
“(Y/N), what if Seokjin never truly loved you?” he interrupts, his voice soft like melted butter. “If he did, he’d fought harder to keep you with him.”
You feel as if your whole body is shaking, but a quick glance to his shoulders makes you understand that Yoongi’s the one who’s trembling. You rest your ear more on his chest, basking in the silence now settled upon you.
“(Y/N), there’s a thing I’ve to tell you. For a very long time… But I’m deadly scared you’ll run away,” he whispers, brushing his lips on your hair.
At those words, you pull yourself away a bit.
Yoongi’s staring at you with wide eyes, his bottom lip is taught between his teeth… you recognize that expression, you saw it on a billion guys when they were on the cusp of kissing you.
You quickly analyze the situation: backing off would be the best thing to do, and yet you stay still, waiting for something to happen--!
A loud shout distracts the pair of you from your mutual contemplation. You gaze over your shoulder, attracted by a small boy's crying.
Yoongi seems to come back to earth too, as he immediately loses the grip, fixing his hair and T-shirt. He takes his knees to his chest and circles his legs with his arms, as he diverts his stare.
“Yoongi…” you call him, vaguely.
It takes him quite some time to lift his head up and when he does, he looks at you in a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and guilt. “Yeah?”
You flash him a beaming smile. “Are you still good at catching fishes?”
“I can’t believe I spent all my money on a stupid childish game!”
You take off the stare from the bus window, peering at Yoongi, sprawled on the sit next to yours.
For a brief moment, the unmistakable scent of the 724 has made you sink in a pond of heart-melting memories, and you ask yourself if it’s the same also for him, busy watching his wallet with pouty lips.
“Come on, you made some children happy. And the carny too… And me too!” you show him the plastic bag full of water you’re carrying with you -as if it was an estimable treasure. “Look at this adorable tiny koi! You’ve gained a free spot in Paradise for this!”
Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. “You should find it a name.”
You look at him fondly. Your head keeps replaying him while he was catching fishes, with his contemptuous expression and the tongue’s tip tightened between his teeth; the children gawking at him in adoration, his red cheeks when they clung to his arms, the laughter when you cheered for him, his delicacy when he taught them how to not break the paper…
Yoongi’s far away from the memory you kept locked in your heart until for all this time; and while he twiddles with his rings, talkative as he’s never been since you’ve met again, you tell yourself that it has come the time to let the shy boy go and welcome this man that makes you feel fifteen again.
“I can imagine you with kids,” you interrupt, softly, and your eyes crinkle in the corner when he blushes. “They’d be handsome since Aina and you are—“ you gasp. “Well, c’mon, it’s true. She’s drop-dead gorgeous while you—Oh, well, you probably hear it every day.”
“Not really.” He rubs his nose. “Fortunately, there’s your mother who loves reminding me of it.” He jokes.
You look heavenward. Geez, she always had a soft spot for him. You can’t forget the stain of wine Yoongi poured on your couch on your seventeenth birthday, and how she forgave him immediately at the sight of his adorable gummy smile.
You’re about to reply but words falter and die in the back of his throat when Yoongi suddenly rests his head on your shoulder, suffocating a yawn. “(Y/N), listen…” his hand slowly moves toward yours and when his fingertips touch it, a cascade of shivers wash you from head to toes. “It’s not true I’m happy with Aina. We… took some time-out, for a while.” His fingers intertwine with yours. “You’re the only one I’m telling.” He closes his eyes.
You wait for a follow-up that never comes, as your heart lurches and hides itself somewhere deep down yourself.
Yoongi’s already sleeping, just like he used to do when you were much younger… and you don’t know if you can handle another abrupt confession like this one.
It’s Sunday 4:00 AM when you come back from Euna’s bachelorette party -and your only desire is to get ready for bed and wake up the day of the wedding.
However, the sight now taking shape in front of you scatters away all your thoughts: Yoongi’s sat on the stairs of his place, and glances at the phone with the most serious expression that has ever hovered on his face.
You’re about to go away, taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t notice you, but his confession whispered on the bus starts whirling again in your head with so much power to paralyse you under the feeble light of the streetlamp.
“Already at home?” you recall his attention, and after a brief moment of surprise, he nods. “How was your bachelor’s party?” you inquire, approaching him.
“Good.” He scratches his ear. “Yours?”
“Great, we had a lot of fun!” you sit next to him, starting to recount him all the things you did. Then, aware that Yoongi isn't paying you any attention, you carefully study the broken expression crossing his features. “Something happened? You’re too sulky for someone who’s just seen strip-teasers.” You joke, but he doesn’t respond. “Well, you must be tired, it’s better if—“
“Stay…” he interrupts, softly, “I was just—“ he flaps his phone, then he scratches his nape. “I’m glad if you stay.” He delivers you a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. “I had an argument with Aina, that’s why I came back earlier.”
“About what?”
He shrugs. “Many things.”
You munch the corner of your mouth. “Won’t she come to the wedding?”
“She never planned to come. That’s one of the ‘many things’ .”
You stiffen when a light breeze blows, hitting you with his good fresh scent. You tight into your jacket. “I… I’m sorry for you and Aina. I hope you’ll work things out.” You smile, encouragingly. “It’s just… I never saw you so happy with anyone else.” Only at this statement, Yoongi looks at you in the eyes, furrowing.
“There was someone else… how couldn't you notice it?” After a long, infinite minute, Yoongi whispers a few words that shake you up from the inside. “… it was you.”
You turn to him, who's got the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen on a guy’s face.
“It’s always been you…” he drums his trembling fingers on his knees. “The first time I saw you, you were yelling at your father ‘cause you had forgotten something in your hometown and he didn’t want to go back to take it. He told you: ‘I’ll buy you a new one’ and you replied: ‘It’s not the same! ’” he lightly chuckles. “You were so vibrant, I felt captured by that light you emanated in everything you did or said. I know it’s been a torture for you to move here but there hasn’t been a day I wasn’t happy for you becoming a part of my life.”
Your heart beats faster in the silence now following his words. As long as you’ve always noticed his feelings for you, hearing them out loud makes another effect: they scare you, you’re so terrorized you’d like to run away from Daegu right now; and yet, you're paralyzed by the simple thought that he’s cherished your memory with so much carefulness after all this time.
“Say something, (Y/N)…” he begs with a cracked voice, moistening his lips.
You’d like to reply but words are stuck in your dry throat. So, you slide your fingers in his raven hair, curling some locks. Then your fingertips slowly climb down and toy with his fringe, perfectly trace his nose line, and finally rest on his crimson cheek.
Yoongi tilts his head only to feel you better, closing his eyes under your soft touch. He turns a bit and brushes his mouth on your palm. The shiver it gives you is not comparable to the myriad running up and down your spine when his lips climb up your arm, on your shoulder, on your neck...
Yoongi is delicate, like someone who’s deadly terrified to see you vanish in thin air, and as long as you’d love for him to not stop, you know this isn’t right.
“You’ve got a girlfriend,” you barely whisper.
His searing lips unglue from your neck. “Dunno. Probably…” he looks at you, and you can clearly see the sad boy you left on these same stairs, four years ago. “Maybe she’s just a girl who forgot her things at my home,” he says bitterly, confusedly, searching for your stare. “She asked me to go with her to Japan… that’s why we argued,” he suddenly confesses.
Your eyes grow bigger and watery.
If he goes to Japan, Yoongi won’t be a part of your life anymore...
“I don’t want to go. My life is here in Daegu, in Ilsan… it's where there's you.” He rests his forehead on yours and wraps you into his arms, pulling you closer. “Daegu hadn’t been the same without you. Time passed so slowly, it’s been so hard to get used to your absence.” He rubs his nose on yours. “I missed you so much, you don’t have any idea how much I did. I thought I got over you, but I didn’t.”
You don’t know how long you hold each other’s gaze but when you’re about to back off a bit, Yoongi bends over and presses his lips on yours in a long, gentle kiss. You can feel his pain, his desire, and when he cups your face tight, you wonder how long he’s been waiting for this to happen. He inches away after a few seconds to catch some breath, placing chaste kisses on your mouth.
In that precise moment, your mind blacks-out.
You rest your trembling hands on his wrists and enjoy the good sensations he’s making you feel only with the simple delicate touch of his mouth against yours, as if the pair of you have been created for this very moment.
“(Y/N)…” your name never sounded so good till tonight, whispered on your lips. “The day you went away, I had to tell you a thing but I lacked courage. I regretted it so much…”
He moistens his lips and catches a breath…
“I, for you… I’ve always wanted to be that one good reason for you to stay and love this place… I still want to be. So, please …” he locks his stare into yours. “Tell me that’s the same for you and I’ll stay here, with you…”
Yoongi’s eyes grow liquid and your breath sticks in your throat…
“I’ll give you all the room in the world, (Y/N).”