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Your fingers hurt.
You’d had a day full of teaching. Your students were all a collective ball of nerves, working on university audition pieces or preparing for spring recitals or one of a hundred other high-stress situations that young adult musicians could be going through. And then there was Jimin, whom you were convinced kept you on his payroll just to torture you.
You would never admit it, but Jimin had always been your favorite student. It had been a joy to watch him develop, both in skill and confidence, and you really appreciated how much variety his music brought to your life. And at some point over the five or so years, your close working relationship had developed into a close friendship.
Which is how you found yourself at his practice room, sitting at your portable keyboard, playing a classical arrangement of one of his songs that you created without much thought. You knew it wasn’t great--you had done it on the spot and it took you less than 10 minutes to figure out--and you kept playing the wrong notes, but Jimin seemed to enjoy it, and he was doing a beautifully modern improv dance to it. So, despite the fact that you had been playing the piano pretty much since you’d woken up that morning, you continued.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and if Jimin was unhappy to be spending the evening with you instead of someone else, he didn’t show it. In fact, this whole impromptu dance-then-dinner thing was his idea. He and the guys were doing some sort of performance on actual Valentine’s Day, so he had made plans with you for the day before. You had brought him chocolate, which was stuffed in your bag for later.
You had also brought a small box for Yoongi, just in case you had time to stop by his studio.
When you were finished with the song, Jimin collapsed on the floor beside you, leaning against the stool you were sitting on. He leaned his head against your leg as he took a drink from his water bottle, and your hand fell to his hair, brushing it out of his face gently.
“You’re all sweaty,” you mumbled, feigning disgust but continuing to play with his hair.
“I haven’t danced like that in a while."
“You dance literally every day.”
“Not like that.” You didn’t understand, but then again, you didn’t understand much about dance.
“Are we really going out to dinner with you all sweaty?”
Jimin grinned up at you, then, his eyes disappearing behind his smile. Honestly, he was breathtaking. You had no idea why he was single. “Why? Would you be embarrassed?” You shook your head and pushed him off you gently so you could start packing up your keyboard. He fell to the ground dramatically, limbs splayed out all around him. “Someone else you’d rather be hanging out with?”
You laughed, turning away from him with the pretense of unplugging your keyboard. “Of course not. Who would I rather spend Valentine’s Day eve with than you, Chim?” He hummed knowingly before pushing himself up so he could help you pack your things.
“You should have just asked him to hang out,” Jimin said softly, helping you put your keyboard into its soft case. “He would’ve said yes.”
You shrugged. “He said he was working on something. He’s finally broken through the writer’s block. I don’t want to ruin that.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, grabbing your keyboard from you and turning out the lights for the room. You followed him down the hall to the elevators and pressed the call button.
After a moment, you heard footsteps coming down the hall, and when you turned to see who was joining you in the elevator, you came face to face with Yoongi himself. Your eyes widened, shocked to see him out of the studio this early. He offered you a shy smile and shifted on his feet.
“Oh wow. The Min Yoongi is leaving his studio before 7 pm. Are you feeling okay?” you joked, trying to sound casual.
He looked good, if not a little exhausted. His hair, a honey blond for their upcoming comeback, was hidden under a dark beanie, leaving only his perfectly side swept bangs to peek out. His denim button-down looked clean-pressed under his wool peacoat. He wore high-top converse with his black jeans tucked in.
“I feel fine,” he said, pushing his glasses up further onto his face. That’s when you noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand.
In an instant, your heart was somewhere on the floors below you, having sunk so fast, you felt like it crashed through the marble floor. You hadn’t expected him to be the type to participate in Valentine’s Day. You really hadn’t expected him to have found someone to spend Valentine’s Day with.
But of course he would. Why wouldn’t he? He was handsome and charming and single and you were sure he had plenty of options. A part of you had hoped that you were one of those options. Mentally, you kicked yourself. Why would you have been? You were just the close friend of one of his close friends. A chummy acquaintance he could go to for help with his job. Nothing more.
Your brain was fogged as you stepped into the elevator. “Going to spend time with someone special?” you heard yourself question, your eyes on the flowers in his hands. It was a beautiful bouquet--blue dahlias and sprigs of decorative white and green something or others that made the whole thing look wild and natural yet somehow carefully selected.
Yoongi ducked his head, but you could still see the bright blush spreading across his face. “That was the plan,” he said softly. “But now I think she might be spending the evening with someone else.”
You heard Jimin hum from your other side. “Did you tell her you wanted to hang out?”
“She doesn’t even know I like her,” Yoongi stammered out.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You heard Jimin mumble a quiet ‘You people…’ before you followed Yoongi out of the elevator. Jimin made brief eye contact with Yoongi before holding out his hand and asking for your keys.
“I have to call Taehyung. I’ll put this in your car,” he said, holding up your keyboard.
You and Yoongi stood together awkwardly, silently watching Jimin exit the lobby. When the door closed, you turned to Yoongi and were shocked to find him already looking at you. You smiled at him, mentally trying to convince yourself you were happy for him. He deserved to be happy.
“You should tell her,” you told him earnestly. “You should give her those and ask her out.”
“Yeah?” A small blush crept across his cheeks and his eyes drifted away from yours. You nodded. “What if she doesn’t want to go out with me?”
“Impossible,” you offered him a small smile, hoping that he couldn’t see the melancholy in it. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Min Yoongi.” You patted his shoulder lightly. You could see Jimin walking into the courtyard on his phone. He must have come back after putting your keyboard into your car. Smiling softly, you looked back to Yoongi, pulling the strap of your bag further up your shoulder. “I should go. Good luck with your evening.”
And you meant it.
You were two steps from the door when he called your name. You hesitated, and hearing his hurried steps getting closer, you turned to look at him, confused. When he was within a foot of you, he stopped, and you heard him sigh. He was standing so close, you could smell his cologne--citrus and patchouli, fresh and sweet and earthy.
His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments before they darted away to somewhere over your shoulder. When you didn’t answer, his gaze came back. You could see the softness in his eyes and the flush that was starting to deepen on his cheeks.
He raised his hand holding the flowers, and the bouquet bumped into your chest, the plastic wrapping brushing your chin. “What are you-?”
You watched as he swallowed hard. “These are for you. I was going to see if you wanted to get dinner and hang out,” he stammered, breaking eye contact. “But if you have plans with Jimin…” He trailed off, his hand holding the flowers lowering slightly so they were no longer shoved in your face.
It took a moment of you staring at him blankly, but when things clicked, you could feel yourself grinning like an idiot. You laughed--almost giggled --lightly, taking the bouquet from him. When your fingers brushed his hand, you watched him tense slightly, and you knew he felt it, too, knew that he felt the little tingles on your fingertips that maybe was static electricity but maybe was also something else entirely. It made your heart beat a little faster.
You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, but you ignored it.
“I wouldn’t have made plans with Jimin if I had known,” you whispered, taking a small step closer and forcing him to look at you. “I spent the last hour and a half playing the same three songs for him as he danced. You could have come save me from that.”
“I didn’t know you needed rescuing.” The laugh in his voice made your heart soar.
“I mean, I really didn’t. I don’t mind playing for Jimin. He’s a pest, but he’s my pest.” Nervously, you tucked your hair behind your ear. “But it would have been nice to see you.” Your eyes went wide and you reached into your bag. “Actually, I wanted to stop by your studio.” You pulled the box of chocolates out of your bag and held them out to him. “One of my students works at this chocolate shop in Gangnam and she scores me discounts sometimes.”
Yoongi took the box from you, curiosity in his eyes and a shy smile on his lips. “You got me chocolates?” You nodded. “Why?”
“You got me flowers,” you whispered, as if that answered him. And, you hoped it did, because it seemed like your motivations were the same.
He regarded the box of chocolates for a moment before tucking them into his own bag. “You’re still going to dinner with Jimin.” His tone was soft, and maybe a little sad.
You hummed and glanced out the windows into the courtyard. It took a moment, but then your brain registered that the courtyard was empty. Jimin was gone, which meant so were your keys. You swore, taking a step away from Yoongi to try to get a better look out the windows.
“He’s relentless,” Yoongi mumbled. You could almost hear the awe in his voice.
“I’m going to throw him off a mountain.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket and noticed the text you had received. “ Oh my god .”
Yoongi was at your side in a second. “What?” Curiosity laced his voice.
“Oh, I am going to launch him into orbit.” You held your phone so Yoongi could see the text on your lockscreen. His hand rested on your lower back as he leaned in to read. You felt your heart start to pound as his chest pressed against your shoulder.
‘Tae came to pick me up. I left your keys with the security guard at the booth in the garage. Have fun!’ Then: three thumbs up, a winky face, a kissy face, and a blue heart.
Yoongi let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “I think he’s been planning this for a few days.”
“ Days ?” You turned to look at him, incredulous. “More like years . Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard ‘but you and hyung would get along so well! Just go on one date!’”
It wasn’t until then that you really noticed how close Yoongi was standing. His hand had moved from your back to resting delicately on your hip. A light flush dusted his cheeks, but his expression was tender, his eyes sparkling in the lights of the lobby. You adjusted your grip on the bouquet of dahlias, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Well?” His focus darted around your face for a moment before settling on your eyes. You hummed in question. “Just one couldn’t hurt, could it?”
You laughed, and he smirked. Slowly, you started to drift to the door. “I don’t know. There’s this cute musician I’ve been trying to flirt with the past few months.”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrow, opening the door for you.
You stepped out into the chilly air of mid-February Seoul, Yoongi at your side in an instant as you made your way across the street to the parking garage and the attendant’s booth. “Yeah, you’ve probably never heard of him.”
“But he’s cute?”
“Very.” You couldn’t help the mischievous smile spreading across your face. Beside you, Yoongi was smiling just as widely. “He’s called me pretty much every evening for months now. That’s probably a good sign, right?”
“I’d say, yeah.” He stood close to you while you chatted with the security guard in the garage attendant’s booth. Once you had your keys back, he continued. “He probably doesn’t mind that you run out of things to talk about after the first 15 minutes of the call, either.”
“Oh, you think?” You chuckled. “I was worried about that. I thought maybe he thought I was boring. He’s an international superstar, you know? He’s got important shit to do.”
“It’s not that important,” Yoongi scoffed. “And he probably thinks you’re amazing. He’s just nervous and a bit of an idiot.” You laughed when he added a quick “probably.”
You lingered in front of your car. There were no other cars in the garage, which meant that Yoongi was probably going to call a taxi to take him home. You bounced on the balls of your feet.
“So, we should probably get dinner then,” you said slowly, watching Yoongi’s reaction. He was looking at you, but not really making eye contact, a shy smile on his lips. “I should probably just agree to go to dinner with this super cute musician who calls me every day and doesn’t mind that I’m a little boring.” You took a step closer to him, the flowers he had given you clutched in your hands. He shifted a little, adjusting the lapels on his coat, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. Based on the temperature of your face, you figured you were pink, too. “Do you think he would say yes if I asked him to get takeout with me for Valentine’s Day? Would that be too cheesy?”
“I think he would have trouble getting a reservation at this point, even if he is an international superstar like you say.” He flashed you a nervous grin, all teeth and gums and sparkling eyes. “So takeout would probably be the best option.” You hummed, taking out your phone. In your periphery, you could see Yoongi watching you curiously. “What are you doing?” There was a hint of concern in his voice.
“Texting my super cute musician to see if he wants to get takeout,” you said simply, unlocking your car. “Do you want a ride?” You typed out a quick message, adding a blue heart at the end, and hit ‘send’ before opening your car door and carefully putting the bouquet on your back seat.
You watched Yoongi’s expression change from confused to crestfallen, his lips setting into a line. He sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging, and immediately, you felt bad. You bit your lip, unsure if you should come clean right away, when he opened the passenger door and slid in, pulling his phone out of his pocket in the process.
When it lit up, his eyes flicked down to check the screen. You took your time plugging in your phone, watching as he paused buckling up to read his notifications. It took him a second, but then he groaned, his head falling back and hitting the headrest.
“Noodles or barbecue?” you questioned softly, offering a sly grin when he finally turned to look at you.
“You’re the worst.”
You laughed as you pulled out of the parking garage. You talked as you drove back to your apartment, your stomach full of butterflies and your mind just a little hazy. You could tell he was more than a little nervous based on how he would stammer a little when you accidentally bumped elbows over the center console. But honestly, you would spend all night driving around Seoul if it meant you got to spend more time with him. You still couldn’t believe it.
He had chosen to spend Valentine’s Day--or at least, his version of Valentine’s Day--with you .