Chapter Text
The air is slightly cool from the remaining traces of winter in the early onset of spring. Classes have just started but already Yoongi’s professor tasks their class with a small group assignment due the next morning.
He is grouped with four other people from a different department. All of them younger than him. So, when they find the perfect spot to film their assignment, he becomes in charge of asking the small number of students lazing around the rooftop to kindly find somewhere else to stay because they need to use the area. He repeatedly apologizes for the inconvenience but all of the students are quick to understand their plight.
That is, except one.
He is sitting a little ways away from the rest of the other students. His back against the wire fence while his arms hug a dark blue electric guitar Yoongi recognizes to be a Fender Strat. He appears to be sleeping with his legs crossed on the floor and his head leaning on the fretboard of his guitar. His chest rises up and down in a steady motion which means that wherever he is in dreamland, it's somewhere very far away.
In that position—and with an electric guitar on his lap to boot—Yoongi doesn’t think anyone would feel comfortable enough to take a snooze. And yet this guy is here, blissfully ignorant of all that is happening around him. Looking for everything like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else other than on their university’s rooftop quad on a particularly chilly, late Monday afternoon as he holds onto his guitar like a well-beloved childhood pillow.
Yoongi feels more than a little bad that he now has to take that away from him.
“Um, excuse me?” he starts. Voice small, a little unsure.
The guy stays still, a tiny snore erupting from his nose. The only thing Yoongi gets as a reply.
So, he tries again, louder this time. “Hello? Excuse me?”
Again, the guy doesn’t budge.
At that moment, a sudden breeze passes by the both of them. Yoongi tightens his jacket around himself but the guy remains unmoving.
Yoongi squints his eyes. This guy isn’t serious, is he?
Yoongi shuffles closer to him and gently pats him on the shoulder a couple of times.
“Hey. Um. Please wake up.”
The guy’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. Finally, a reaction.
Then, as if someone somewhere just pressed play, the guy’s eyes begin to flutter open and Yoongi finds himself staring. Because, never in his life has he seen someone wake up so breathtakingly as if they came straight out of a movie.
From where he first saw the guy initially, he had already been aware that his looks are a cut above average. With his black hair swept over his forehead to the side and his lips poised to a serene pout, he already looks leagues better asleep than when Yoongi decides to fix himself up on a good day.
But right now as he watches the guy from up close, gradually becoming more aware of his surroundings—his oval almond-shaped eyes blinking every so often with the force of a butterfly’s wing; his triangular, rounded-at-the-tip nose scrunching from time to time like a curious little bunny rabbit; his full, rosy pink lips parting ever so slightly as he breathes out a silent sigh, releasing a small puff of snowy white mist—three words pop into Yoongi’s mind in quick succession.
Beautiful. Ethereal. Unreal.
“Um…Is there something on my face?”
Yoongi blinks.
In front of him, the guy—now fully conscious—has his head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks up at Yoongi. His question hangs around in the air like a giant soap bubble ready to burst at a moment’s notice. When it does, Yoongi is sure he will be drenched from head to toe; given the on-going transitionary March air, that isn’t the most ideal of situations to find one's self in.
He blinks again.
“Um. No. There isn’t. Something on your face.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Smooth, Yoongi, reeeaal smooth.
Thankfully, though, it appears that the guy doesn't even take notice of his self-berating, yawning with a hand over his mouth--very polite, Yoongi notes--and scrunching his nose again a couple of times, as if he is trying to keep himself present for this current conversation that he is having.
He turns back to Yoongi in a somewhat lethargic manner. "So, why were you staring at me?"
Just then, his group mates have begun to make a small ruckus from somewhere behind him. From the sound of things, they are probably setting up their filming equipment and laying out their props. He is sure they are bound to start calling for him at any point in the next couple of minutes so he rubs the back of his neck with one hand and does a quick regretful bow at the guy.
"Ah, I'm really sorry. But we're going to be using the quad for our project. Our deadline is tomorrow so we're kind of rushing to get it done before the day ends. I hope it isn't too much but could you please vacate the area? It wouldn't be a pleasant sleeping spot for a while since we might get noisy. Also, it's pretty cold out which wouldn't be good for you or your guitar."
Yoongi motions to the Strat when he notices something about it that he hadn't before.
Only five strings are still completely attached to it. The sixth one snapped into two at the seventh fret, and is flailing around in the air far too freely for Yoongi’s liking; the guy’s perfectly, perfect face a mere six inches away from its sharp, pointy ends. Not to mention that all the strings are rustier than a pile of nails left inside an abandoned tool box in his great-uncle’s shed back in Daegu. Which could have been the reason why the sixth string (technically, the first string) split in the first place.
He clicks his tongue involuntarily. “You should really replace your strings, man. You literally won’t be able to play anything, and you’ll get tetanus. How’d you even let it get this bad anyway?”
The guy’s eyes widen before he brings a protective hand to his guitar’s fretboard, right over where the first string split into two.
Ah, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. It isn’t his business how random strangers treat their guitars after all.
He is about to apologize again when the guy’s lips part and he breathes out a, “This can be fixed?”
Yoongi finds himself blinking for the third time.
Does this guy not know guitar strings can be replaced? Is that how they’re in bad shape? If so, he’s definitely not a music major then. (Yoongi’s heart dips only a little.) But still, what is he doing carrying around a virtually useless instrument? Is it sentimental? Did he pick it up off a dumpster? Is he an acting major?
Yoongi purses his lips.
“Yes. It can be fixed. Did you…not know that?”
The guy takes in a deep breath before shaking his head.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Is that guitar yours?”
The guy looks up as if in thought before nodding his head once.
“Okay... Do you play?”
The guy shakes his head again, his gaze settling onto Yoongi’s shoes.
“I see.”
Another breeze passes by the both of them, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi tightens his jacket around himself again as the guy visibly shudders. He moves to wrap his arms around his guitar, and Yoongi doesn’t think it would do much. Until he realizes that the guy isn’t using it to ward off the cold but rather to shield the guitar from it.
(Votes are now pouring in for the sentimental reason.)
The wind gradually slows to a stop and the guy also loosens his hold on his guitar. Yoongi watches as he carefully turns it around on his lap before gingerly running double jointed fingers across the remaining unbroken strings, a faraway look in his eyes.
Feeling like he's witnessing something he shouldn't, Yoongi moves to avert his gaze when the guy suddenly looks at him.
His eyes a little glassy, he blinks once before asking:
"Could you… fix it?"
Yoongi inhales sharply, his heart beating loudly in his ears.
Right then and there he feels a slight change in the air. It could be a thunderstorm is coming, or the guy in front of him is going to bring about that thunderstorm. His question was simple yet he feels the heavy weight behind it. Like fixing his guitar isn't just to save the instrument but to salvage something deeper in his heart. In his soul.
Yoongi thinks that's something he shouldn't ignore. And with the way the guy is looking up at him, his dark brown eyes filled with a humble determination, Yoongi knows he thinks it too.
He opens his mouth to speak when, from somewhere behind him, his group mate all of a sudden calls out to him, causing him and the guy to jump at the same time.
"Hey, Yoongi-hyung! Are you done over there? We need to finalize our parts before filming!"
He turns around once and waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming!"
Not bothering to wait for a response, he turns back to the guy and crouches in front of him so he can be eye-level with him.
"Yeah, I can fix it for you," he says quickly. "But I really need to do this first so if you're willing to wait--"
"Yes!" The guy nods his head keenly. "I can wait. I will wait!"
A smile finds its way to Yoongi's lips. Is it fair that this guy is both handsome and cute?
"Great." He motions his head to the door leading to the rooftop. "Wait for me over there. I'll be with you soon enough, um--sorry, I didn't catch your name? I'm Min Yoongi."
The guy stares at his outstretched hand for a while. But he slowly takes it soon enough, warmth quickly spreading across Yoongi's palm when he does.
"Kim Seokjin." The guy smiles back at him. "My name is Kim Seokjin."