Work Text:
Your thoughts were loud. And honestly, it was starting to get annoying. You’d been attempting to transpose and slightly re-arrange a song for one of your voice students, and there was no way it was as complicated as your brain was making it out to be. Normally, you could get an arrangement done in a few hours, less if you were familiar with the song. But this project was pushing the six hour mark, and if you didn’t end up bald by the end of it, you were sure you’d be grey.
That chord sounds weird. You used to be good at this. What happened?
You silenced your brain and pressed play on the song’s chorus again to try to follow the rhythm.
Maybe mom was right. Maybe you should have studied something practical like journalism.
You threw your pencil down and pushed your tablet away from you. Maybe you should go to sleep. You could pick things back up tomorrow when you had a fresh mind.
Your student has a lesson tomorrow, remember? He’ll need his music done by then. Or did you forget your students rely on sheet music for their lessons?
The vibrating of your phone--harsh against the silence of your living room--drew your attention. The contact picture surprised you. He never called this late. So you answered, thinking maybe it was urgent.
“Hey you!” You greeted cheerfully, expecting to hear his usual ‘Hey! Am I bothering you?’ in response. But you were only met with silence. “Yoongi? You there?”
He doesn’t want to talk to you. Probably butt-dialed you or something. Now he’s trying to figure out a polite way to hang up the phone .
“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft when he spoke, barely audible over the cacophony in the background. “Did I wake you?”
“Not at all.”
“Oh.”
You hummed, frowning slightly. You never minded talking to Yoongi, but it was a little out of character for him to call this late, and something sounded off. “Yoon, it’s two in the morning, why-”
He swore. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. Have a good night.”
“No no no no no!” you practically shouted into the phone, hoping to catch him before he hung up. “It’s okay. I don’t mind that you called, I was just… what’s up?”
You could hear him sigh on the other line, and you got more comfortable on the couch, ready to listen. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It’s dumb. I’ll call you in the morning…”
But he didn’t hang up. You could hear him breathing into the receiver.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong?”
Great. Now he’s going to think you’re either nosy or clingy. He said he’d call you in the morning, Jesus Christ.
“If I have to stay here with these idiots for five more minutes, I think I might rip my hair out.”
“Well, that’s not good.” You hummed. “Not sure how ARMY would like you bald.”
“I need some peace and quiet.” Yoongi sounded exhausted, and you could almost imagine him sitting in his room at the dorms, attempting to hide from the six bundles of chaos he lived with. “I’ve tried explaining to them that if they just stop bothering me for half an hour-”
“Come over.” It was out of your mouth before you could think.
“What?”
Great. Nosy, needy, AND desperate. Good job.
“Come over,” you repeated. “It’s quiet here. I don’t mind if you need to recharge or work or whatever.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“You should be in bed.”
You laughed. “And yet here I am. Not sleeping.” You knew he was going to keep arguing, so you continued. “But don’t think I won’t fall asleep with you here. Trust me, dude. I’ll fall asleep in front of you. You aren’t special.”
“Then why invite me over?” He was stifling a chuckle.
“You need somewhere quiet. I have plenty of quiet to spare over here. Well, I mean, not currently, because some lunatic called me at two in the morning, but in general, lots of quiet.” Why would you call him a lunatic? “And, I mean, I’m happy to take one for the team to prevent you from going bald. For ARMY’s sake, of course.”
“Of course.” He laughed, then, a giddy thing that set your mind at ease a bit. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“I promise I don’t.”
For a second, he was quiet. Then, you heard him sigh. “I’ll be over soon.”
“You should know, before this little tryst happens, that I am in my pajamas and I don’t plan on changing.”
“Same.”
“Ah. Good.” You grinned, feeling a little stupid that just his playful tone of voice could have your heart pounding the way it was. “As long as we’re in agreement, then.”
You hung up, and immediately, your head fell back against the couch. Too forward. He’s going to think you’re just another person desperate to hang out with him because he’s cool and funny and handsome. He probably only agreed to come over because he feels bad for you. He knows you don’t have a lot of friends.
You sighed, picking up your tablet again, attempting to get back to work. The voice in your head was starting to sound a hell of a lot like your mother, and, worse, you were starting to believe it.
Sure, Yoongi had called you, but maybe he had just wanted to vent. Maybe he was just annoyed and needed someone to talk him off a ledge. But you hadn’t even given him the chance to tell you what he needed. You’d just invited him over--at two in the fucking morning--with no idea of whether or not that was even helpful. Maybe you were needy.
But you couldn’t help it. You liked him. Like, really liked him. And you didn’t get to spend a lot of time with him--you were both trying to navigate your relationship around his schedule. He was so busy, and you were still trying to find your place in his life. Your relationship still was so new. You didn’t want to fuck it up already.
You didn’t notice that you had just been staring at the open music notation program on your tablet until the knock at your door startled you out of your stupor. Yoongi stood in the hall of your apartment building, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He had a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and wore an oversized hoodie over a pair of black pajama pants.
“Hey!” He lit up as soon as he saw you, smiling widely despite the fact that it was now almost three in the morning.
You ushered him inside, attempting to calm the fluttering in your stomach and closing the door behind him. Yoongi kicked off his shoes in the doorway, letting you lead him through your apartment. When he saw the state of your living room, he hummed.
“You weren’t kidding about still being up.”
“Ahh yeah.” You chuckled dryly, gesturing for him to sit on your couch. “Tonight’s been rough.”
Suddenly, you realized that maybe he had brought something to work on. And that also you still didn’t really know why he had come over, aside from the fact that you’d impulse-invited him. The anxiety flared in your stomach again, killing whatever butterflies had been there only moments ago.
“Is this… okay? Did you bring something to work on?” You shuffled your things around on the coffee table to give him room. “You can use my office if you need a desk or something. I-”
“I didn’t bring anything,” he said softly, readjusting how his backpack was leaning against the leg of the couch before leaning back.
Then why did he come over?
“You invited me?” Yoongi sounded confused, and you realized that you had accidentally voiced your thoughts. “Did you not want me to come?”
Idiot. Now he thinks you don’t want him here.
“Of course I did. I just…” You sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
He frowned, a small pout on his lips. “Can I help?”
You shrugged. Could he help? How could he? You weren’t actually struggling with your work. You were struggling with your brain.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” Yoongi scooted closer to you, his hand falling to your knee.
“Just brain shit.” You sighed. “I dunno. Today’s been tough.”
Silently, Yoongi’s thumb rubbed circles into the side of your knee. He chewed his lip, staring at the fabric of your sleep shorts.
Well, now he just thinks you’re nuts.
“Let me help.” His voice was soft, and when he looked at you, you could tell he was serious. “At least let me help you get this done.” He gestured to your tablet and your laptop on the coffee table.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Yoongi offered you a kind smile, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the light of your living room lamp. “You’re my partner. Of course I want to help. Plus, I owe you like ten thousand favors for helping me get out of my writer’s block a few months ago.”
You sat in silence for a moment, watching him. His eyes never left yours--a big step for him, you knew he got uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact. But he flashed you a small smile, and squeezed your knee.
“Let me help. Please.”
You nodded, reaching up and stealing the cap off his head. Yoongi laughed, playfully tugging you toward him as he reached for his cap. He reclaimed it easily, but instead of putting it back on, he plopped it onto your head. You could feel your face heat up, and your heart started to flip-flop in your chest.
“Can… can you listen to this?” You grabbed your tablet and stylus as a distraction, unlocking it and shoving it into his hands.
He settled in, listening as you told him about the piece you were working on for your student. When you leaned closer to tap ‘play’ in your notation program to have him listen to your arrangement, his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his side and not letting go. Almost immediately, you felt yourself relax. He was warm, and he smelled good, and his thumb rubbing against your side was soothing.
With Yoongi’s help, it only took you 20 minutes to finish the arrangement. You saved the document and locked your tablet, putting it back on the coffee table. You leaned back heavily against Yoongi, your head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder.
You sighed. “How was that so much easier with you here?”
“I don’t think it was easier.” Yoongi hummed, rubbing your shoulder. “What you had started was great.” You scoffed. “I mean that. It was really good. I don’t know how you can do piano arrangements like that. I think you could just finally concentrate .” He tapped your temple gently.
“Maybe,” you conceded.
He was right. Of course he was right. You’d been top of your class in composition. Arrangements came as natural to you as lyrics and beats did for him. It was just… your thoughts seemed to be getting in the way recently. You’d been through Grand Central Terminal at some of the busiest times of the year, but even that didn’t compare to how loud and intrusive your thoughts had been.
You yawned, and gently, Yoongi pushed your head down to rest against his shoulder, tugging his hat off your head and tossing it aside so you could lay comfortably against him. He held you tightly against him, his other hand coming over to capture one of your own.
“It’s late,” he said after a while, his voice rumbling through his chest. “I should let you get to sleep.”
“You don’t… you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” Nervously, you drew shapes onto his hoodie-covered chest with your finger. “You could stay.”
For a while--or at least, what felt like a while--he was silent. You didn’t dare look at him, your heart sinking further as every eternal second ticked on.
How many times can you fuck up in one evening?
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Yoongi’s voice, tender and gentle, startled you out of your spiraling thoughts once more.
You hummed in question, resuming drawing patterns into the fabric of his hoodie. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.
“I know that look. You’re thinking hard about something. What’s up?”
You chewed on your lip. Did you really want Yoongi to know about all the shit going on in your head? You liked him. What if you told him and it ruined everything? Sure, he was generally pretty accepting of things, and yeah, he was studying psychology in his off-time, but theoretical situations are far different than they are in practice.
“Too much.” You sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
He nodded in understanding. “Sure. Whenever you’re ready.” A few seconds passed in silence, and you stifled another yawn. “You sure you want me to stay?”
“If you don’t want to-”
“I want to. I actually uh… I brought clothes for tomorrow just in case.” He smiled shyly. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Please. Stay.”
You leaned in then, pressing a careful kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, holding you close. His lips were plump, and soft, and they moulded against yours perfectly. When you pulled away, his face was a light pink.
As you fell asleep that night, you couldn’t believe how quiet your thoughts were. Your mind was still stuck in the fog, and you could feel the spiraling thoughts niggling at the edges, but they’d calmed slightly. Your face buried against Yoongi’s chest, his arm firmly around you, you fell asleep with the closest thing to a peaceful mind you’d had in a week.