Chapter Text
You were at the local bar scene hangout with a group of your friends. They finally managed to convince you to come out with them, as the bar is typically not a place you frequent. However, your friend knew to dangle the two magic words that she knew would do the trick: Min Yoongi.
Yoongi was your long-time crush pretty much ever since you started college. He was in quite a lot of your classes since you both shared a major, well technically it was your minor, but who was counting, right? And just this past summer you even had a night where the two of you had the chance to become close and bond, or at least you thought so. You both were amongst the small handful in your shared program that were taking summer classes. And since the number of students in your class was so small, it had a rather intimate feel to it. It didn’t help that the class was the last class of the afternoon, and it kind of became a habit that a small group of maybe five or six of you would often grab dinner together in the cafeteria after class ended.
One of those evenings had led to a number of you following Yoongi to his apartment (which made him instantly cooler because he didn’t live on campus like you did) to watch an impromptu performance on not only the guitar, which he was learning, but also on the keyboard he had set up in a corner of his living room. You were so entranced by his playing, and just listening to him as he spoke about music like it was an old friend, that it was well past midnight when you had realized you were the last person left. You didn’t even remember when the others had left. Yoongi was the perfect gentleman, albeit still gruff around the edges, and walked you back to your dorm so that you wouldn’t have to make the trek alone at night. You went to bed that night imagining a different ending scene to the evening- one where he was perhaps less of a gentleman when it came time to say your goodbyes.
Ever since that night you couldn’t get him out of your head. To be fair, he was never far from your thoughts at any given time, but lately he was becoming more of a distraction from your studies than ever before. Was it the fact that he dyed his hair back to black, when it had been a brown over the summer? It made his skin seem paler (and not in a sickly kind of way) and made his dark eyes sparkle black. Or maybe it was the haircut? His hair was kind of shaggy over the summer- not quite a mullet, but just… unkempt. Now he had a buzzed undercut that brought out all the angles of his sharp jawline. And his neck, wow. You had never noticed how long his neck was. Maybe sitting behind him in class this semester wasn’t the best of ideas.
Your friend was tired of you. She was absolutely DONE. She was tired of your pining. So she devised a group outing, and made sure to invite him along, all with the intent of shoving you two together with liquid courage pumping in your veins, and let the cards fall where they may. And that’s where you are now, shaking out your hair over your light jacket from the few raindrops that landed on you as you made your way to the bar’s entrance with your friend.
The rainy day had quieted down to a drizzle, but it left the autumn chill behind in the air. You shivered with delight. You loved autumn weather. Stepping into the bar you were blasted with the heat of too many bodies in one space, and the loud cacophony of too many voices in one space. You weren’t really into crowds, not like this at least. You preferred a quieter space where one could hear another person speak without having to yell. Your head was already beginning to throb with the uncomfortable assault against your senses, and your eyes scanned the room looking for the one person that would make this whole thing worthwhile.
And there he was. Min Yoongi, looking cool and confident, and generally aloof as he sat at a table with a few other people you recognized from your department. He wore a black leather jacket, and you noticed that he sported a couple of dangly earrings tonight instead of his typical hoops in both ears. Was this Min Yoongi dressed up for going out? You liked. You definitely liked.
Your friend called over to the group and raised her arm to grab their attention. You wanted to both shrink away from her and the attention, but as soon as those dark cat-shaped eyes slid your way and made contact with yours, you wanted to preen and bask in his attention alone.
Much to your displeasure, your friend elbowed you in a very obvious way once she noticed that Yoongi was looking at you. “Oh, I think he’s checking you out! See, Y/N, I told you that top would get his attention!” You groaned, stepping out of reach of her vicious bony elbows. Said top was a bit too much for such a dumpy bar. It was, in a word, vampy. You wore a black stretchy, satin top that would’ve looked edgy on a normal person, but on you it looked too suggestive. Too tight against your busty chest, too low-cut showing too much cleavage. Your friend tried to get you to wear a miniskirt to “really get him drooling,” but you changed into a pair of jeans at the last minute, even if they were the most form-fitting pair you owned. Your eye makeup was smokey and your lipstick was red, that was enough of a change for you compared to the normal everyday natural look you usually sported for class.
It did seem that you in fact had his attention. His eyes never left you as you and your friend walked over to the table, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a heavy heat pressed against you. This kind of attention was definitely new. You liked it, for sure, but you felt your confidence fraying at the edges. This wasn’t your true form. You felt like you were wearing someone else’s skin, like a costume.
As you approached the table you could only wave at everyone, your voice having gone weak and shaky from your nerves. The group of people at the table scooted over to make room for you two, and your friend, again too obviously, made sure to shove you a little too forcefully in the seat towards Yoongi.
“Whoa, there. You okay?” he asked, as you whipped your head around to glare at your friend. You nodded at him mutely. A ghost of a smile crossed his pouty lips. “Good. You want a drink?” He poured you a mug of beer from the pitcher they had sitting on the table. You tried to hide your look of distaste at the offer. How could you tell him that you hated the taste of beer when you decided to come to a bar, of all places? You mumbled a weak thanks and took the tiniest of sips, mostly to make it look like you were drinking the proffered beverage.
You sat there in silence for a long time, letting the group talk around you about school, work, relationships, and various other things. You were content sitting there next to Yoongi. Your attention was more focused on the press of his jean-clad leg against yours, or the coolness of his leather jacket against your arm. Most especially, with being as smushed up against his side as you were, you became acutely aware of how you could feel the rumble of his deep voice emanating from his slim frame anytime he spoke, and as the alcohol flowed you noticed he seemed to talk more than you were accustomed to.
Another thing you noticed was his hands. You had always been a huge fan of his hands. They were big, long-fingered, and veiny. You harbored feelings for his hands alone, as a separate entity from his entire being. But now they were THIS close to you. In fact, if you kept your hands on the crowded table you’d inevitably keep touching them, just from proximity. And with your hands keeping a death grip around the mug of beer that you were not drinking you could feel the light grazing of his fingers against yours as he talked. You liked that he talked with his hands. The ring he was wearing on the middle finger of his right hand was catching the light in a very pretty way, especially as he lifted his hand to run through his black hair. Holy fuck that undercut went above his ears. Shit! Aah that perfect jawline. You could see his eyes sparkling and he was smirking. Holy hell that was hot. Wait. He was looking at you. He was smirking. At you. Fuck. What?
You glanced around the table quickly. Everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit. Someone had obviously asked you something. You looked around with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. “Um, I’m sorry, what?”
Your now ex-friend burst out into laughter, along with a couple other of your classmates. You felt your face burning red with embarrassment. “Oh, Y/N!” Your friend gasped between breaths. “Your face! Omg I can’t breathe!”
You felt yourself get smaller and smaller, shrinking in your seat.
“Hey, how about we order some shots?” Yoongi’s deep voice came out from beside you. “Here, let me out and I’ll go order them.”
And with that, thankfully the moment was over. As you and your friend shuffled out of the seat, you were going to take this moment to make a run for the bathroom to calm your nerves, but you felt fingers at your arm.
“Why don’t you come help me?” Yoongi offered, with a small smile. He didn’t need the help. You knew he was giving you a distraction- an escape, from being harassed by your friends. But you nodded anyway, and followed behind him, weaving your way through the crowd to the bar.
Yoongi quickly placed an order for two rounds of shots for your table, then laughed when he saw your expression. It was a nice laugh, you thought. Min Yoongi should definitely laugh more often. His smile goes so big that he shows his gums, and it's just a purely blissful experience.
"What's with the face? You don't like tequila?"
You scrunched your nose up, shaking your head. "I can't stand the taste! I don't drink a lot of hard liquor, so I just know I'm going to be sick at the end of the night."
He gave you a look with his lips pouted in thought. "So what's a drink that you would enjoy? You didn't touch that beer I gave you earlier."
You cringed. "Yeah, I was kind of hoping that no one noticed that. I don't really like beer, either."
He grunted. "Mm. So what do you like? You're here to have fun too, you know." His hand grazed over yours. Was it your imagination, or was he lingering his hand on top of yours a little too long? Your eyes flicked up to his face to read his expression. Please don't be picking up wrong signals, you begged to yourself.
He gave your hand a light squeeze. "Hmm," he hummed, just barely loud enough for you to hear him. "Maybe you're not quite sure what you want, is that it?"
You licked suddenly dry lips, and noticed that his dark eyes followed the movement. "N-no," you struggled to say in a strong voice. "I know what I want."
You told him your favorite drink, and he raised an eyebrow. He removed his hand from yours, lifting it to flag the bartender. You couldn't be sure, but you thought you heard him mumble something along the lines of "guess we're back to the drinks."
You cursed yourself mentally for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. That might have been your one shot and you blew it! Without saying much else, you both returned to the table laden down with enough shots for two rounds. Your friend scooted in this time, leaving Yoongi at the end of the booth. He dangled one leg off the side allowing you a lot more space than your friend had previously. You couldn't help but inwardly pout and miss the closeness from before.
And despite your earlier words to Yoongi, your embarrassment and self deprecation made those tequila shots look pretty damn appetizing at the moment. You ignored the looks and comments of surprise when you took a shot and downed it, making a disgusted noise at the taste and burn it left behind.
Yoongi was right, after all. You should be able to have fun, even if your own stupid mind was trying to get in the way. You grabbed another shot and gulped it down, feeling the alcohol go straight to your ears and cheeks.
A large hand covered yours on the table, and his deep voice was in your ear. "I think that's enough, hmm? You don't want to overdo it."
You made a face, not even sure if he could see it. But apparently he did, because you heard him tsk with a whispered "brat" still close to your ear.
He was right, of course. You didn't drink enough to handle more than two shots, and you still had a full glass in front of you that you needed to nurse slowly if you didn't want to get sick.
You swirled the little straw in your drink and kept quiet as the conversation continued to flow around you. You didn't realize you had been bouncing your leg until Yoongi placed a hand over your knee, instantly calming you. He was watching you too closely at this proximity; it was bad for your heart.
"Y/N! Come dance with me!" Your friend was tipsy but she still had a lot of strength in her tiny body as she pulled you up to the makeshift dance floor. You protested every step of the way, not being drunk enough for dancing like you were in a club in this little shabby bar. But your friend wasn't having it. She was dancing around you almost as if you were her pole, but at the same time trying not so subtly to show you off to the certain set of eyes that were watching from the table. It was when she tried to twerk against you that you threw your hands up and abandoned her on the floor.
You sat back down next to Yoongi, reaching for your cool drink. "I'm definitely not drunk enough for twerking," you laughed.
Finally, your nerves had calmed down and you were able to be more like yourself. The alcohol did open you up more, and you found yourself not only joking around with Yoongi but flirting lightly with him as well. It happened naturally. It wasn't heavy hitting on him or coming on too strong. It was just the "have your lashes always been so long?" type of things one can get away with when they've been drinking.
It was with this same spirit of teasing/flirting that you were both indulging in that you found yourselves up at the bar again, ordering more drinks that you knew you shouldn't have.
"This is the last one," Yoongi said sternly, which would have been more convincing if he wasn't smiling so fondly right now. He even had his index finger up like he was reprimanding you.
"Yes, sir," you giggled, wrapping your hand around his finger. "I promise this will be the last one."
"Hmm." He brought his free hand to your loose hair falling around your shoulders. "Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?"
"Me?" You squeaked. You tried not to give in to the urge to let a giddy smile plaster itself all over your face. "You're the one who looks so mysterious yet so hot at the same time."
"No. No no, this outfit. Damn. Your body- wow. You know this, yeah? And your hair, I'm not used to seeing it down like this. It looks so soft. I just want to-" His hand traced the back of your neck until it was buried in your hair, sending chills all throughout your body. You held your breath, waiting for Yoongi to close the gap between you.
But then came a polite clearing of a throat.
"Sorry to interrupt, cutie. But what can I get you?" The honeyed voice from the bartender caught you both by surprise.
This wasn't the same guy from earlier. Oh no. This guy looked every inch like a model, from his open collared button up shirt showing a smooth expanse of tanned skin, up his long long neck every bit as graceful as a swan's, to his perfectly chiseled face that could make angels weep, his dark bedroom eyes, and his perfectly styled hair that was just begging you to run your hands through it.
You knew your mouth was hanging open, you could feel it going dry, but you couldn't find the willpower to be able to close it. The Beautiful Man™️ looked from you to Yoongi with a smirk growing on his features.
"As much as I enjoy you both staring at me like that, if you don't tell me what you want to drink I'm going to have to leave you for another."
That snapped you out of it. Wait, did he say Yoongi was staring as well? You glanced over at him, and yes indeed, he was staring as well. He caught your look and gave a small smile, shrugging. His hands slipped from your hair and he took a step away from you, leaning an elbow on the bar.
You swallowed thickly, still feeling flustered from both very attractive men. You gave him your order, regretting how much you stammered over your words, but you were awarded with a positively radiant box-shaped smile from the gorgeous bartender.
"And for you, handsome?" He asked, turning that 1000 amp focus onto Yoongi.
He ordered another whiskey like a pro, but an accidental/not-so-accidental graze of fingers when the drink was being passed along had Yoongi's face flushing more than the alcohol, or maybe it was the wink the hot bartender threw his way that made him such a mess.
He met your raised eyebrow astonished expression with a scowl. "Oh hush," he chided, guiding you back to the table.
The night passed by quickly after that. Enough alcohol was consumed to where you were talking more freely with everyone now, and of course you and Yoongi seemed to be having private conversations amongst yourselves. He was continuously touching you as well, whether it was playing with your hair or having an arm drape around your waist or over your shoulder. You would lean into him, smell his cologne, lean your head on his shoulder. He hadn't kissed you yet, but your hopes were riding high that he would be the one to escort you to your door like before, but maybe this time there would at least be a goodnight kiss.
You weren't sure when you started dozing off, but feeling warm lips at your temple caused you to stir. Yoongi excused himself to go to the restroom, but he left you his jacket to use as a pillow until he returned. It was some time later when you stirred again, realizing he still hadn't come back. Asking your group of friends didn't seem to be any help either because by now they were mostly too far gone into a drunken or tired state or a little too preoccupied with making out to be bothered.
You walked around the bar, seeking out Yoongi, or your friend who wasn't at the table, and the bathroom. You found your friend first slow dancing with a guy you recognized from school. She waved at you with a stupidly happy grin on her face. You waved back and made your way to the restroom, your bladder deciding it had to become priority number one.
You did your business and washed your hands, noticing how tired you looked in the mirror. It was definitely time to go home. You had no idea what time it was but you were pretty sure it was far beyond 2 am. You definitely needed to find Yoongi and head home.
You left the restroom and quietly crept by the couple that was still making out in the corridor. You passed them on your way into the restroom and now they seemed to be getting even hot and heavier. You grinned and shook your head. Kudos to them. Then you heard the voice that made your blood run ice cold.
"Fuck! Ahh, that feels good. Yeah, just like that."
You knew that voice. You've been thinking about that voice everyday for two years. You had dreams about that voice.
It was Yoongi's voice.
You had stopped just outside the doorway leading into the restroom corridor. All sound seemed to fade away except for the loud beating of your heart. What should you do?
You turned back, creeping around the doorway just enough to see the couple in question more clearly. It was Yoongi, for sure. His back was against the wall but he was being held up now, his legs wrapped around the waist of another man. A man wearing a black collared shirt, with dark hair. That's all you could see from the back. But he was kissing all down Yoongi's neck and grinding his hips against him. And Yoongi, the man of your dreams, the potential love of your life, had his head thrown back in pure bliss while his hands, those beautiful hands, gripped at this man's shoulders.
You moved back out of the doorway. You felt nauseous. Did you read all the signals wrong?? Was he really as into you as you had been thinking? Was he into guys? Well, obviously, so scratch that. But was he only into guys or was he bisexual? Was he friend-zoning you this whole entire time and you were too blinded by your affections that was only brought out into the open by the alcohol?
You felt stupid, you felt betrayed! But then you felt bad and guilty for feeling betrayed. Yoongi had never actually said anything to you to make you think he was wanting to be with you, physically or emotionally. He complimented you earlier, said you had a nice body. But he didn't exactly say he wanted to do anything with your body though, did he?
Mostly you just felt confused. And your mind was churning with all these dark thoughts and therefore your stomach was churning as well. You definitely needed to get out of here.
Should you just leave? You had your phone and emergency money, so you could call a cab. Your friend looked happy where she was. Part of you, the petty side, wanted to break up the make out session and give him a piece of your mind. But that thought made your stomach churn even more. You hated confrontation, and really what could you even say? For all intents and purposes Yoongi may never have intended to be more than friends with you. Would it be fair to blast him for your emotional damage when he didn't knowingly take part in it?
You banged your head lightly on the wall behind you. You should just go. Tell your friend that you were calling a cab and leaving, and just go. Stop thinking, stop feeling, just leave. That was the best plan you had. Now to put that plan into action...as soon as the room stops spinning.
"Wait!"
The voices at the doorway made you gasp. You slid against the wall as far into the corner as you could get, then sank down to the floor behind an empty chair. You wanted to bolt but you were scared to death one wrong move would make you vomit everywhere. Hopefully it was dim enough that no one would notice you here.
"Babe, I have to get back to work."
Wait- is that- the bartender?!
"I know. One more kiss before you go."
The deep, rich sound of the beautiful bartender man laughing. And if you weren't so nauseous right now you knew that even you wouldn't be able to say no to that velvety voice and laughter, and you kinda hated that right at this moment.
"I didn't think someone looking so tough and edgy would be so fucking needy. It's hot."
"Oh for fuck's sake, just shut up and shove your tongue down my throat."
More dark laughter. "Well when you ask so nicely…"
You can see Yoongi's pale hand gripping the edge of the doorway. Please, please just go away, you begged silently. You couldn't be sure if you were begging him to go away or your nausea. Perhaps both.
"Baby, now I really do have to go. And" (kiss sounds) "you have to get back to your girlfriend."
"Not my girlfriend," Yoongi's voice was breathless.
"Mmm but you-"
Nope, that was it. Your eyes were stinging with sudden tears and you had a surge of adrenaline as your fight or flight mode took over. You quietly snuck around the doorway where both men were still too preoccupied to notice you. By now everything was muted in your ears. You quickly made your way to the exit, the cool rainy weather instantly feeling more comforting.
Despite the late hour, by the time you reached the end of the block you were able to hail a cab. You shot a message to your friend saying you were feeling sick and went home via taxi. Fifteen minutes into the drive home you got a text from Yoongi.
You didn't even open it.
Once you got home the nausea had passed, thankfully. Now you were just left with exhaustion, a dull pounding in your head that you knew you'd feel in the morning, and the ever-present regret and mental anguish.
You couldn't stop yourself. You checked Yoongi's messages, which have been adding up by now.
"Hey where are you??"
"Are you okay??"
"Y/f/n said you left because you got sick. Are you okay?"
"I'm worried about you. Please respond."
"Is something else wrong? Did you come look for me at the bar?"
"Hey I don't know if you're asleep by now or not. I'm really kinda worried about you. I'm going to stop by your dorm on my way home. I just need to see that you're okay. Even if it's just you at the window or coming down to the door."
You could barely read the messages through the tears streaming down your face. But you couldn't let him come over. Not now. Not anymore.
"Don't come. Was sick and throwing up. Gonna shower and sleep. Talk later."
You powered off your phone and let yourself cry until you fell asleep. Somewhere in your mind, or maybe it was in your dreams, you thought you heard from a distance someone shouting "God damn it!" in pure anguish.