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The restaurant was warm and inviting, and the smells that were wafting out of the kitchen were absolutely divine. You stood in the foyer in silence, waiting for the hostess to return. She had scuttled away as soon as Yoongi had spoken to her, promising to prepare a table quickly for you. Yoongi stood beside you silently, pressed close enough that if you were to move, you would elbow him in the chest, but far enough away that he wasn’t crowding you.
“Wait… is that?” You heard a young woman whisper, her hand covering her mouth. When you glanced in her direction out of the corner of your eye, she was sat waiting for a table with her friend.
They both were staring at Yoongi.
You felt him sigh beside you, but he did nothing. Not until her friend responded. You couldn’t quite hear what was said, but you felt a hand on your back, guiding you to turn around and out the door.
This was the second restaurant you’d been shuffled out of. Outside, you pulled your coat tighter around you.
“Sorry.” Yoongi sounded sheepish, and you could hear a hint of real sadness in his apology.
He had been excited to go to this restaurant.
“Not your fault.”
And you meant it. It wasn’t his fault. A side effect of his career, maybe, but certainly not of him. He gave you a small grimace like he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything as you walked back to his car in the parking garage around the corner.
“Where next?” you asked softly, buckling your seatbelt.
Briefly, Yoongi frowned, but it was gone in an instant. “Want to go to the park?”
“It’s February.”
He hummed. “Right.”
It was quiet in the car. Neither of you had even plugged in your phones yet, so the only sound was the heater on max strength. The silence was oppressive, but not awkward, which was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place. The silence was never awkward with Yoongi.
“Do you want to go see a movie?” he asked tentatively.
“Do you?”
“Not really.” He frowned, the back of his head hitting against his seat.
You snapped your fingers. “I have an idea.” Yoongi’s eyes widened, but you hummed. “It’s a secret. Just drive. I’ll give you directions.”
And so he did, listening dutifully as you directed him left and right through the city. The sun had set a few hours ago, so the city was alight with a neon and fluorescent glow. It was beautiful, in its own way. The drive wasn’t long, and soon enough, you were telling him to pull into the parking garage under your building.
“If you wanted me to take you home, you could have just said,” he told you softly. You could hear a hint of hurt in his voice.
“Come upstairs with me.” Cautiously, you took his hand from where he clutched the steering wheel. “Let’s just hang out.”
“I-are you sure?”
“Of course!” You squeezed his hand. “Come on. We can get something delivered.”
When you opened the door to your apartment, you cringed. Had you been expecting to invite Yoongi over, you would have cleaned up a bit. But instead, your living room was a mess, everything from your workday strewn pretty much everywhere. Sheet music covered your coffee table, and your laptop, iPad, and mini keyboard took up your couch.
“Sorry,” you apologized, unplugging your keyboard and gingerly moving it out of the way. “I uh… I was working on some stuff for my students before you picked me up.”
He chuckled, moving your laptop off the couch so he could sit.
You ordered dinner from the barbecue place a few blocks away and chatted casually as he helped you organize your sheet music so you had room on the coffee table. For a while, you thought he’d moved on from the issues you’d experienced earlier in the night. You noticed him pause on a stack of sheet music, examining it with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place. When he sighed, you approached him gently.
“You okay?”
Yoongi hummed, thumbing the corner of one of the pages. “Tonight hasn’t exactly gone to plan, has it?”
You shrugged, approaching him slowly. “Maybe not-”
“I’m sorry. This… sooner or later it always happens.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a reason Jungkook’s the only one of us who’s had success with a long-term relationship.” He sighed, lowering himself gently onto your couch. “It doesn’t really work with… well, who we are. I don’t normally do this .” He gestured between the two of you. “What’s the point? It always ends the same.”
“Yoongi-”
“I don’t blame them. We don’t have a lot of time to foster good relationships, and when we do…” He glanced up at you, then, his dark eyes sad. “You saw what happens.” His gaze fell back to the papers clutched in his hands. “I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to deal with it. What self-respecting person wants a partner who can’t devote the time and energy to them that they deserve?”
“I can only speak for myself, obviously, but…” Gently, you took the sheet music from him before grasping one of his hands. “I had fun tonight.” Yoongi scoffed, a noise of disbelief. “I did! And I…” You sighed.
It was too early to dump your entire life history on him, but really…
“I just want you to like me,” you admitted sheepishly. “As much as I like you.”
And it was the truth. You wanted him to like you. Because god , you liked him. You’d only known him for a few months–less than a year, really–and all you wanted to do was know him more. He was comforting, and kind, and really, really attractive, and you couldn’t help that you were drawn to him.
Yoongi looked away, and if it weren’t for the bright pink tinging his ears, you would have thought you’d said something wrong. But he squeezed your hand tightly, and after a moment of shy, yet comfortable silence, you continued.
“I don’t need much. I don’t mind just hanging out.” You traced the tip of your index finger along the side of his hand, following the contours around his fingers to the small handful of thin bracelets around his wrist. “I just want to get to know you, okay? I wouldn’t have agreed to this silly official first date if I didn’t.”
“Valentine’s Day is too cliche for a first date.” He held your gaze for a moment before continuing. “But okay.” His voice was soft, and for a moment, you thought that maybe he still didn’t believe you. But he flashed you a convincing enough smile. “I just don’t want it to end with us hating each other.”
You hummed, leaning into him. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think I could ever really hate you. Unless you turn out to be some sort of serial killer. Or someone who eats limburger cheese or something.”
He snorted. “Good thing I don’t really know what that is.”
You laughed. He probably still didn’t believe you. You knew it took more than a reassurance one time to overcome what you assumed was years of struggles. But you hoped that, maybe someday, he could look back on your relationship–wherever it ended up going–fondly.