Work Text:
“One more time.”
You rolled your eyes, turning away from your piano to stare at him. “Jimin, that last time was great.”
“ Practice makes permanent ,” he said, parroting your own words back at you. You had learned the phrase from your high school drama teacher, and it had become your professional motto over the years. “Please? Just one more time. I want to make sure I have it.”
You sighed, but flipped your sheet music back to the beginning. You quickly tapped your phone screen to check the time. “One more time, then. And only one.”
“Of course. Don’t want to miss his call,” Jimin winked at you, his tone full of mirth.
“Oh shut up, no . I want you out of my house. It’s already 8:15.” Jimin hummed. You knew he didn’t fully believe you, but he was willing to accept your lie, and that was good enough for you.
You counted Jimin off and played the first notes of the song--a bouncy bass line interspersed with a peppy whistle--as he began to sing the first verse of the song. You were glad you had decided to actually notate the song instead of just scribbling down chords. Jimin had asked you to play it partially and in full at least 15 times that day, and probably would ask for it a hundred more before it got officially recorded or performed. You made a mental note to go back and notate some of the other songs Jimin had brought you.
Your phone began to ring just as you were coming to the last few bars of the song. You eyed it warily, preparing to catch it if it managed to vibrate itself off the music rack. Jimin’s eyes were on you, you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face as you played the final notes of the song. You knew he saw your phone, knew he saw the heart beside the contact name and the contact picture--an adorable selfie that he had sent you only a few days prior when he was struggling with writer’s block in the studio.
Jimin smiled slyly at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before motioning for you to go ahead and take the call. You hit the ‘answer’ button.
“Hey you!” you said cheerfully, your tone not matching the glare you were giving Jimin.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He had called you every day for three weeks, and every time, he asked you the same question.
“Nope. We just finished up.” Jimin made kissy faces at you as he collected his things. You pushed him with your free hand and he laughed.
“We?” You could hear the concern under the curiosity in Yoongi’s voice.
“Just Jimin. He wanted to work on the new song again.” He hummed. “What are you up to?”
“Trying to avoid beating my head against my desk.”
“Writer’s block again?” You stood and followed Jimin as he made his way through your apartment to the front door.
“Still.” Yoongi sighed.
“Did you eat?” Jimin resumed his kissy faces as he put his shoes on. “I’m going to throw you out, you pest,” you warned. You could hear Yoongi chuckle.
“Jin brought me some kimbap for lunch. I haven’t been out since then.”
“Want some company? I can stop and grab takeout.” You watched Jimin slow down tying his shoes.
Yoongi stammered a bit before clearing his throat. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to bother-”
“Yoon.”
You heard his chair creak as he shifted. “I would like that a lot,” he said quietly.
You smiled softly. “Okay. Let me kick Jimin out and I’ll be there.”
When you hung up, Jimin grinned at you. You shot him a questioning look and he shook his head, going back to put his shoes on. The smile was still there when he stood to hug you goodbye.
“What?” you questioned, pinching his cheek.
“You guys are cute.” You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your cheeks heating up. “You are! If you guys end up married, I want credit.”
You laughed, slipping on your shoes. “We aren’t even dating. He doesn’t even like me.”
“Yeah, okay.” He rolled his eyes and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Just remember how long I spent trying to set you two up. Not my fault you’re stubborn.”
You grabbed your bag and keys and pushed him out the door, locking it behind you. “You really are a pest,” you told him.
You rode the elevator with Jimin down to the parking garage below your building. He had somehow convinced you to drop him off at the dorms before heading to Yoongi’s studio. Barely 45 minutes later, you pulled into the parking garage at BigHit, a bag full of bulgogi and glass noodles in tow. You texted Yoongi a quick “I’m here ^^” before getting out of your car and approaching the building.
Yoongi appeared in the lobby as you were going through security and making polite small talk with the security guard. He took the takeout bag from you as soon as he was at your side, and you walked quietly together to the closest elevator.
“Thanks for coming,” he said softly, his eyes glued to the reflective surface of the elevator doors. “I, uh… I appreciate it.”
“I just hope it’s good.” You made eye contact with his reflection, and his eyes immediately fell to the floor. “One of my students told me about this new place near my house, and I asked Jimin what you liked, so…” You shrugged.
When the elevator doors finally opened, he put his hand out to stop the doors from closing on you, letting you exit first. He led the way down the hall to his studio, waving at the receptionist on the way. He punched in the code to the Genius Lab and you followed him in. Yoongi motioned for you to sit on the couch, and he dragged his desk chair over to use as a table before sitting down beside you.
“What were you working on today?” you questioned, helping Yoongi to open the containers.
“Just some stuff for my mixtape. I can’t seem to get a beat to match the song I want to write.” He handed you a pair of chopsticks.
“Oh, so he has a mixtape? Do you ever stop working, Min Yoongi?”
He chuckled shyly, grabbing meat from one of the containers. “This will actually be my second mixtape.”
You hummed. “What’s the first one called? I’ll have to listen to it.”
“No!” Yoongi almost choked on his bulgogi. “I mean, don’t. Not yet.” You raised an eyebrow at him, confused. Why wouldn’t he want you to listen to his mixtape? “I’ll show it to you someday, but please. Don’t listen to it without me.”
Still confused, you nodded. You had no reason not to agree, and if you were honest, you didn’t want to fuck this up. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” You reached for some noodles, trying to figure out how to change the subject. “Do you have lyrics? Or are you just kind of working on a beat right now?”
“Both, kind of.” He shrugged as he chewed. “I have a general idea of what the song’s going to be about. I have a few lines written down, too, but I don’t know. They aren’t the greatest.” Yoongi looked tired. You wondered how long he had been trying to lay a beat for this track. You suspected you didn’t want to know the answer. He grabbed another mouthful of noodles and chewed for a second before covering his mouth. “How was your day?”
You laughed. “You don’t want to hear about my day. Nothing much happened.”
“I do, though.” He rested his cheek on the hand that was holding his chopsticks. The look in his eyes was so sincere, you believed him.
“I’m in the process of teaching my high schoolers how to choose a good song for their voices. Some of them are better at it than others.”
“Do you do vocal coaching and teaching?”
“No,” you shook your head and grabbed another piece of bulgogi from the container. “But honestly if I’m going to teach them to sing, I may as well be as thorough as I can be. Plus when they’re all famous, can you imagine how in-demand I’ll be? I’m coming for Kim Sung-eun’s title.”
He flashed you a wide, gummy smile as he laughed. “I’ll tell Jin to pass along the message.”
Your laugh was somewhere between a giggle and a cackle, and he smiled wider.
By the time the conversation lulled, you had no idea how long the takeout containers had been sitting empty or even what time it was. The two of you were still on the couch, sitting facing each other. He had his elbow on the back of the couch, his cheek resting against his hand as he listened to you. You loved how easy Yoongi was to talk to, and he genuinely seemed interested in learning more about your life. Eventually, he stood and stretched, gathering the empty containers and tossing them in his trash. You checked your phone, letting out a soft ‘oh my god’ when you saw how late it was. You had spent two hours talking with Yoongi.
“I should let you get back to work!” you said, standing quickly and grabbing your bag.
“You don’t have to-”
“I don’t want to monopolize your time.”
“You’re not monopolizing anything.” He offered you a small smile, his focus anywhere but your eyes. “I’ll walk you down.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t.” He agreed softly, opening the door for you.
It was quiet as Yoongi walked you to the elevator, one hand ghosting over the small of your back. The halls were empty, the offices and practice spaces dark for the night. Mentally, you cursed yourself for staying so late. But, you had enjoyed yourself.
“I’m glad you came.” He said as you stood waiting for the elevator to arrive. His tone was soft, like it was a secret no one else can know, even though you were pretty sure you might be the only two people in the building. “Thank you.”
“You sounded desperate for a distraction on the phone.”
He chuckled lightly at that. “Not any more.” The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
“I know my way down from here.” You took a step forward and shot him a smirk, which he returned.
“Text me when you get home.” You hummed and nodded, hitting the button for the first floor. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He waved goodbye as the doors closed and the elevator began its descent.
As you settled into bed that night, you typed out a quick text to him. “Made it home ^^”
Yoongi’s response came faster than you had anticipated. “Good. Talk to you tomorrow.”
God, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.