Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I can’t do this anymore, I shouldn’t be here!” 

Yoongi watches Jeongguk pace his studio, his hands locked behind his head and elbows splayed wide as they flap forward now and then while he thinks. He looks like a bird spreading his wings, about to take flight.

If only he would jump, thinks Yoongi. He’s ready, he’s more than ready.  

Jeongguk stops, eerily still all of a sudden, boring holes into the bamboo planks of the floor. It’s jarring because in the short time Yoongi has known him, he has learned that Jeongguk exists in a state of perpetual motion, a peppy gas molecule bouncing around and able to expand to fill any space. He plops down on the Genius Lab sofa, a firm black leather two-seater. Yoongi has taken many naps there, when it’s easier to simply stay at work instead of dragging himself home.

Yoongi enjoys seeing Jeongguk here, in his studio, on his couch, delicately reaching out for his dreams. There’s a background hesitance to Jeongguk which mystifies Yoongi, compared to his enthusiasm for everything else besides his own goals, his own forward momentum. Yoongi enjoys having Jeongguk in his life, but that’s secondary to helping him pursue a singing career, one he absolutely could have if he believed in himself the way Yoongi already does. 

Curling in on himself, Jeongguk’s semi-fetal position belies his age, a twenty-five year old man with the prettiest face Yoongi has ever seen outside of glossy magazines, pop idols, and television dramas. He’s got a voice to match, made of silk and honey, seemingly crafted by angels and honed by years of hard work. Right now, Jeongguk tries to make himself small, and it’s every shade of wrong. In Yoongi’s head, alarms are blaring, lights and sirens causing utter cacophony, except he doesn’t know what to say, how to stop Jeongguk from-

“I’m leaving. I’m done.” Jeongguk averts his eyes, fists clenched tightly against his thighs. “I have to be done.”

Just yesterday, Jeongguk had been perched on the arm of Yoongi’s fancy high-backed rolling chair as they’d listened to the latest revision of their track playback. He’d clutched the headphones to his ears, eyes squeezed shut as he swayed to the music, their music. He’d had a small smile on his face, lips ticked up at the corners in sweet countenance. The song ended and there had been resounding silence, even after they’d removed their headphones. Jeongguk’s eyes were wide and shiny, full of stars as he’d gazed at Yoongi with something like wonder and pride. 

Just yesterday, Yoongi had thought Jeongguk was about to have the world eating out of his palm. 

They’d left each other in twilight, as they’d done every night for the last few weeks. They’d gone their separate ways, both high on their combined creativity and effort, fizzy champagne bubbles in their blood. Yoongi had thought how Jeongguk doesn’t even understand how good he sounds, how in demand he’s going to be, how much people are going to want to hear more from him. 

Their song is done now, all finishing touches complete. Jeongguk’s vocals have been finished for days now, but he came tonight to listen when Yoongi had texted him. It’s the first day Jeongguk hasn’t simply shown up to share Yoongi’s studio, watch him work and fire questions at him about the production process. It’s the first time Yoongi has had to really reach out since first dropping his business card into Jeongguk’s guitar case.

Yoongi wonders what happened in the hours since they left each other’s sides last night. There’s so much he doesn’t know about Jeongguk, questions he’s never asked, details the singer has never offered. Their quiet atmosphere has felt natural from the very start, only Yoongi realizes he doesn’t have much information to go on. They’ve chatted a great deal, on street corners, over studio sessions and late-night snacks, a few scattered not-dates. The conversations haven’t been shallow, in fact Yoongi believes he understands a lot more of Jeongguk than Jeongguk probably even thinks possible. And yet, there’s still something frustratingly elusive about him, walls protecting his heart that only lower when Jeongguk reveals himself through song. 

“And the song, Jeongguk-ah?”

“Please, hyung. Don’t release it.”

Yoongi finds himself wandering the streets of Hongdae after work. Buskers and graffiti artists and street dancers all vie for his attention, colorful and vibrant, but he walks without a particular direction, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Feet stomp against concrete, microphones squeal with feedback, hands beat against drums; the background musical din helps ease the tension out of his shoulders, too many hours logged hunched over his desk, too poor of posture for his twenty-nine years. He'd been tempted to crash in his studio tonight, having done so countless times before, but instead he buzzes with a restless sort of energy as he ambles. He's not hungry, he's not particularly anything except-

Enchanted. 

Here on a street corner in the waning days of summer, Yoongi feels as though he stepped into a dream or memory, some level of hazy bliss he's only ever seen in movies and read in books. It's an evening with lingering amber rays of sunshine and the kind of pleasant heat that lulls someone into forgetting cooler, shorter days are inevitable. Yoongi would happily stop the Earth's momentum right here, right now. 

Sitting on a stool, long legs crossed at the ankles as he strums a guitar, a busker has instantly captured all of Yoongi’s attention. Not half an hour ago, Yoongi had felt exhausted, eyelids like sandpaper and limbs filled with concrete. Now, as though he’s been shot with adrenaline, Yoongi stands and basks in the sweet, breathy vocals, in the airy lilt and gentle vibrato. It’s three songs so far that Yoongi has been mesmerised, the busker about to begin a fourth. Yoongi roots in his front pocket for his wallet. He digs out a sizable bill and one of his business cards, and shoulders his way up to the front of the large crowd.

Glancing down, Yoongi sees a decent amount of money in the open guitar case, which makes him think he’s unfortunately missed some of this set. The guitar case is black, lined with red, and from what Yoongi can see, the outside is decorated with paint. Immediately he wonders if his busker is a visual artist too. He sees the full colourful tattoo sleeve up and down his right arm, disappearing under the short sleeve of a baggy white t-shirt, and notes the multiple facial piercings and the way the denim of his medium-wash jeans strains against his thighs. Yoongi clears his throat as he bends down and carefully tosses in his offerings, and when he rights himself, he makes startled eye contact with the busker. 

Large, luminous, brown eyes widen as they take in Yoongi, a pretty pink mouth pops open in surprise. Yoongi is drawn in, charmed, already aware he’s being awkward the longer he stands here with empty hands while there are still songs to be performed. 

“Thank you very much,” murmurs the busker, as he turns away and strums the opening bars of his next number. He peers down into the guitar case, blinking quickly as though in disbelief. Yoongi thinks he hears him swallow. “Min Yoongi-ssi. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi nods, but before he steps back, he can’t help but ask in return. “And you are?”

The busker smiles, although it seems sad and thin, a bit tight at the corners. “It doesn’t matter.”

Grasping a dismissal when he hears one, Yoongi shuffles out of the way. He chooses to stand on the fringes of the audience. He stays for the remainder of the mini concert, mollified when he sees even more money in the guitar case as the instrument gets packed away for the night. 

Yoongi hears the singer’s sugar spun voice in his sleep later that night, cotton candy dreams.

Despite his best efforts, Yoongi can’t help but expect a phone call or email. Most singers, dancers, artists of any medium, would jump at a business card with actual contact information on it, connected to an actual producer in the industry. It’s not arrogance that drives Yoongi’s surprise, it’s an awareness of how ruthless and fruitless it can be to try and get heard and seen by someone with impact. He’s been incredibly lucky, as he’s seen peers get chewed up and spit out. When Yoongi’s longtime best friend, Seokjin, had moved out, he’s the one who found someone to share the rent with Yoongi; that someone was Namjoon, an acquaintance of Seokjin’s brother Taehyung. Namjoon had just been starting out at BH Music at the time, and after a few very lengthy conversations, arguments, and sharing of self-produced music as new roommates, that’s how Yoongi had gotten his foot in the door of the music industry. 

Yoongi doesn’t share his professional information lightly. It’s a risk to bring someone into the company and take responsibility for them, one that puts his reputation on the line. Something tells Yoongi this singing stranger is worth it. He’s been thoroughly dazzled by one solo acoustic set on a street corner; his mind reels at the possibilities of that voice with professional equipment and studio production. 

If Yoongi had been confused when he didn’t hear anything the first day after sharing his phone number, he’s utterly bewildered as the days pass by without a word from the busker with the galaxy eyes and pouty mouth. The rest of the week and weekend passes by in a blur of work, and both Seokjin and Namjoon have to remind him to go home some nights. Other than those two lovingly nagging him, and one dutiful Sunday call to his mother, his phone remains stubbornly silent.

“Namjoon-ah,” calls Yoongi on Monday night, exactly one week since stumbling across the busker that eludes him. 

“Hyung, seriously. I’m right here.” Namjoon stares balefully at Yoongi from the easy chair, not more than a few meters away. He snorts and shakes his head, sticking his finger in his book to hold his spot, closing it on his lap. 

Yoongi grimaces and shifts to face his roommate, who will absolutely not let a simple inquiry off with vague details. “Is there an app for street performers, like there is for food trucks and such?”

“Here in Seoul?” Namjoon places an actual bookmark between the pages and tosses his book onto the coffee table. 

The quiet background instrumental jazz that feels like a permanent fixture in their apartment lately sounds deafening as Yoongi debates how much to reveal. “Yeah. I’m just wondering.”

Like a bloodhound picking up a scent, Namjoon leans forward, eyes narrowed slightly. “Why? Did you hear someone you like?”

“Yes. I’d like to see him perform again.” There’s no point in trying to veil it as something else, not with Namjoon. 

“A singer?” 

“Mm. By himself in Hongdae. And he played the guitar too,” rambles Yoongi, wishing he had more information to share. Although he immediately chooses to leave out all commentary about how attractive the busker is, with his round face and angular jaw and plush bottom lip and those beautiful eyes that he can still vividly see in his memory. “His voice caught my attention. He’s a light lyric tenor, almost a male alto, which would actually be a countertenor, so. Nice range, good control.”

Namjoon smirks at Yoongi, a highly amused expression on his face. “Is that all?”

“No,” continues Yoongi, with a small shake of his head. “His tone is unique and bright, but feels familiar, comfortable. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Okay,” replies Namjoon, raising his eyebrow. Yoongi is missing something obvious, that much he can tell from the shit-eating grin on Namjoon’s face. “If you saw him in Hongdae, that’s probably where he performs. You know that area as well as I do, especially if he’s as special as you say, he wouldn’t waste his time on places in the city with less of a reputation for street art.”

Yoongi shrugs. “So wander around Hongdae after work every day until I see him again?”

“Hyung.” Namjoon’s expression is pained. “I didn’t say that, but if that’s what you want to do, you should.”

Mercifully, the conversation ends there, and the next night finds Yoongi doing exactly as he’d said he’d do: ambling around Hongdae watching buskers perform. He doesn’t find the person he wants that night, nor any night for the next several days. It’s the following Saturday, when he’s out for lunch with Seokjin and Taehyung, that he thinks of looking during different hours. He effortlessly convinces two of his oldest friends to accompany him, promising Seokjin he’ll be his next experimental recipe tester.

Yoongi doesn’t actually expect to run across the singer again, so pulls up short when he hears the instantly recognizable voice. Seokjin crashes into him from behind.

“Yoongi-yah!” Seokjin says, placing his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders and lightly shaking him. “Warn us before you decide to nearly cause a ten-pedestrian pileup.”

“Shhh,” hushes Yoongi, flapping his hand in Seokjin’s general direction. He walks forward until he’s officially part of this busker’s crowd, his friend’s complaints drowned out by the song and the singer, Yoongi mesmerized as he watches. A grey knit beanie hugs the boy’s head, a muted plaid flannel drapes his slim frame. He looks warm and soft, and Yoongi thinks everything about his appearance matches his vocals. Not for the first time since laying eyes and ears on him, Yoongi wonders how he hasn’t been snatched up by a record label by now. It feels like a criminal waste for him to be out performing on the streets for free. 

He feels Taehyung sidle up next to him. “Hyung, he seems familiar. Do you know him?”

Shaking his head, Yoongi mutters under his breath, so as to not disturb the performance. “I think that’s just his skill. He sounds like someone we already know and listen to.”

“No,” argues Taehyung. “I feel like I’ve actually heard him before, this exact guy. But I don’t really go out listening to buskers so probably not, I guess.”

Yoongi agrees, and he’s glad he’s not alone in feeling a gut pull towards this one random singer, an emotional echo bouncing back from across a canyon.

After the afternoon’s set is over, Yoongi again approaches the busker. He has his hands in his pockets, doesn’t want to come across as intimidating or anything else even more worrisome. He’s thought about this person’s addictive voice a completely normal amount over the last couple weeks. “Hey, that was a great set today.”

The busker smiles and ducks his head, not quickly enough to hide the rosy blush blooming on his cheeks despite the nip in the early autumn air. “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi frowns. That eliminates one of the reasons that Yoongi has convinced himself as to why the busker hasn't reached out to him. “You remember me?”

“Not many people toss a fifty thousand won note and a business card into my case,” counters the busker. His fingers play with the jewelry adorning his eyebrow as he warily eyes Yoongi, possibly expecting an unfriendly reaction. 

“Your audience is always so big, I find that hard to believe,” jokes Yoongi with a grin. “But I thought for sure that would earn me your name.”

“Hmm,” hums the busker, expression brightening. He notices someone over Yoongi’s shoulder and tips his head, squinting his eyes slightly, before shaking it off and focusing again on Yoongi. Yoongi glances over his shoulder and sees Taehyung, who shrugs at him.

“How do I get it? Your name.” Yoongi clarifies, feeling like he’s toeing some sort of invisible line. He digs into his wallet, pulling out another yellow ₩50,000 note. He hands it to the busker. “This is for your set. I wish I had more on me to give you.”

“It’s too much,” refuses the busker, animatedly waving the hand not still clutching his guitar in a death-grip. There’s an unreadable tension on his face. “This is too much, again.”

Yoongi bends down to place it in the guitar case, glad there is a decent amount of money in there again. “Then take it for your name, which I’m determined to learn.”

Seokjin sounds like he’s choking behind him, and Yoongi barely refrains from rolling his eyes. 

The busker slides off his stool, black chunky boots soundlessly hitting the sidewalk. He gathers all of the money and slips it into a vibrant, colorful pouch slung across his torso, its appearance slightly at odds with the rest of his ensemble. He gently nestles the guitar away and snaps the case shut, before rising back up to his full height. His facial features are even more defined now that the longer fringe of his hair is held off his face by the beanie. His cheeks are full and his nose is round, and it’s only the melancholy in his eyes which belies his youthful appearance.

Grasping the guitar case by its handle, the busker makes to leave. He sighs as he gazes at Yoongi, searching his face. He must get at least some sort of answer because he smiles before he turns away, lip ring moving with his bottom lip, metal bar glinting as his eyes crinkle, silver hoop shifting as his nose scrunches. He tosses only a few brief words over his shoulder. “It’s Jeongguk.”

Yoongi makes it his mission on weekends, and during his lunch hour, and on his way home, to seek out Jeongguk and watch him perform. He finds him more easily around Hongdae now, Namjoon having been correct that the busker sticks to the most popular, edgy and eclectic street entertainment district of Seoul. 

Every time their paths cross, Yoongi stays and listens for as much of the set remains. He approaches Jeongguk afterwards, after he’s done thanking everyone else who talks with him, after he’s clasped his hands and bowed in gratitude for all of the support. Yoongi showers him with genuine compliments, and points out specific details of the performance that he particularly liked, highlighting why he thinks certain vocal choices are brilliant. They chat about music they love and artists they enjoy and the latest favorite songs they’ve discovered. Yoongi learns Jeongguk is also a dancer, which isn’t good for his sanity, and he tells Jeongguk that he used to rap in underground clubs while he was in university. 

He admits his stage name had been Gloss. It makes Jeongguk laugh so hard his eyes disappear, and Yoongi thinks the dorky giggles he unleashes without covering his mouth are as addictive and beautiful as any of his vocals. Jeongguk begs Yoongi to talk to him even longer one day when he spots an ex hovering in the crowd. Yoongi willingly agrees when he sees the annoyed expression on Jeongguk’s face, but stops himself from asking if Jeongguk is okay, if his boyfriend is still interested, if he wants Yoongi to make it very convincing that Jeongguk has moved on.

After every conversation, which ranges from mundane to philosophical to personal and everywhere in between, Yoongi reminds Jeongguk that his card is legit, discussing his job a little bit and answering any ensuing questions. He takes satisfaction in Jeongguk’s curiosity, hoping he’s making some inroads to getting Jeongguk into the studio. His voice deserves to be heard farther and wider than busking in Hongdae will ever reach. Yoongi trusts his company, and would love to introduce Jeongguk to the resources there. He longs to be in his corner, helping the singer along however he’d like his inevitable career to go. He knows Jeongguk works at a coffee shop and teaches youth dance classes to earn steady money whenever he’s not on a street corner with his guitar, so there’s quite a clear drive and work ethic there. The way his eyes light up and his cheeks flush as he discusses dance musicality and singing techniques and vocal artistry, it’s a wonder that a more lucrative career as a performer isn’t something Jeongguk has already pursued. 

Anytime Yoongi asks if Jeongguk has ever thought about auditioning somewhere, the subject is clumsily changed, and leaves Yoongi with more questions than answers.

Days, weeks, nearly a month, this pattern repeats itself in a loop. Eventually, as the September air slowly gives way to cooler October winds and shorter days, the blush on Jeongguk’s cheeks blooms from the chill in the air rather than always feeling overwhelmed by any level of praise. With that, Yoongi takes a new angle on discussing Jeongguk’s options.

“Are you free right now, Jeongguk-ah?”

“Ah, hyung, I’m supposed to go meet up with someone at the- well, I have maybe half an hour, but then I’m busy the rest of the day. Wait, why?” Jeongguk picks at his nails in fingerless gloves, painted a metallic bronze, partially grown out and chipped, but still looking effortlessly cool. 

Yoongi nods to himself, adjusting the beanie on his head. “Would you like to go get a cup of coffee? I have something to propose to you.”

A brief flicker of excitement crosses Jeongguk’s face, but it disappears before Yoongi can seize hold of it. He bites his bottom lip, off-center so he can gnaw at his piercing. He glances again at his phone. He taps out a quick message to someone, looking far too conflicted for Yoongi’s simple offer of getting an innocent drink. 

When Jeongguk tucks his phone away, Yoongi tries to lighten the mood. “Boyfriend?”

Jeongguk gapes at Yoongi, before shaking his head. “I’m single?”

“Are you asking me?” Yoongi can’t help himself; teasing Jeongguk is too fun.

“No,” breathes out Jeongguk, laughing to himself as he shoves Yoongi’s shoulder gently. “I am very single. I just hadn’t thought you were asking me on a date, hyung. I thought maybe you were taking me out in hopes of something else from me.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong. I would like to propose something to you, fully aware that you’ve probably already shot me down without even hearing my offer.” Yoongi decides to throw all caution to the wind. This could complicate things if Yoongi ever wins Jeongguk over and gets him to step foot into BH Music, but it seems a far-flung impossibility at the moment. BH Music is progressive, and there’s nothing that would preclude them from working together should they become anything more. “I could be asking you on a date, if you’d prefer. Taking you out certainly wouldn’t be a hardship, considering you are incredibly out of my league.”

Jeongguk chuckles, low and throaty, and gestures at Yoongi, one hand sweeping lazily from head to toe. “Have you ever seen you, Mr Hot Shot Producer with a heart of gold? Maybe we should skip the coffee and find you a mirror.”

Yoongi shrugs one shoulder, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Now is not the time to fixate on his own appearance, despite the fact he has purposefully been putting a little more effort into his outfits, hair, and accessories whenever he thinks he'll be watching Jeongguk perform. He'd pulled the eyeliner out of the bottom drawer of his vanity the other day, although he has yet to use it, not quite to an emotional place where he craves Namjoon's opinion on him revisiting his emo makeup phase. “Let’s agree to disagree over coffee, Jeongguk-ah. If you still have time.”

“I told my friend I might be running late to their, uhh, to our meeting, so, I’m all yours for now. But please, can we make it a date and skip anything else you had in mind?” Jeongguk pleads, huge liquid eyes working in his favor. 

“Sing for me, Jeongguk. Please. I have access to all the bells and whistles and, don’t you understand how special your voice is? You don’t even need the bells and whistles. You have something so unique and interesting, people will hear you and desperately want to hear more. The world is yours for the taking, Jeongguk-ah.” Yoongi is out of breath by the time he ceases his frantic bid for Jeongguk’s time and talent. Not for himself, not for the company, for Jeongguk.

Backing away, Jeongguk creates distance between them. “My voice alone, by itself, it’s not as special as you think it is.” He steels himself and heaves a deep breath, shivering as the wind picks up around them. “I’m freezing, lets go get that coffee. Just not at Coffee Nine, I spend enough time there working.”

Again, Yoongi is shut down before even delivering his full pitch. He’s bungled it once more, although he can’t help but wonder why Jeongguk is so adamant to keep his voice hidden, light under a proverbial bushel. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Yoongi nudges Jeongguk with his shoulder as they begin to walk in step, Jeongguk’s guitar case held between them. 

Despite the nature of their relationship, if he can even define their dynamic by that term, Yoongi decides to go out on the metaphorical limb one cool, crisp Friday night. He hasn’t eaten dinner, and the voice in his head demands he see Jeongguk consume something nutritious, food and drink beyond water and coffee. Surely, Jeongguk is a whole adult who can sustain and support himself, and yet Yoongi’s soul itches to feed him.

Yoongi is nervous as he and Jeongguk walk for a late bite to eat. Coffee had been one thing, Yoongi’s black and roasted, Jeongguk’s frothed and sweetened. They’d shared two savory scones and easy rapport, with light talking points about family, friends, university, and other basic information rolling off of their tongues. Yoongi had even been dismayed that he didn’t know Jeongguk’s birthday when it happened recently, and he’d treated it like any other day. 

Tonight, with all the casual chatter already behind them, and limitless potential tickling at the periphery of his mind, Yoongi can’t help but fret that things won’t be quite as simple now that he’s suggested something more than indulging in a convivial beverage. This has all the weight of something more formal and defined than whatever they’ve been doing, and Yoongi thinks he should have dressed up. He mocks himself when that thought enters his conscious, critical brain. He’d found Jeongguk straight after work, watched him perform, and now they’re here. It’s not like it’s a date night or anything; it’s not like Jeongguk took extra effort either. 

Subtly, Yoongi gives his companion a once-over as they walk. As always, Jeongguk is smoothly pulled together in a way that often eludes Yoongi. His dark plaid button-up shirt matches his pants, which are just relaxed enough in their fit to scream trendy, even if Yoongi doesn’t bother much for fashion. Jeongguk has tucked his loose patterned pants into a pair of chunky black boots, which might look odd on someone else, but is a perfectly balanced combination of casual and cool. His earrings are an assortment of dangly hoops, looped together in such a way it almost seems like they’ve been put in wrong, except Yoongi knows it’s intentional. Yoongi’s grateful to his morning self for choosing his aesthetically torn skinny jeans and last summer’s limited edition artist-designed Vans.

Once they arrive at the understated restaurant and are shown to a table, Jeongguk pretends to swoon like a fairy tale maiden as Yoongi pulls out his chair for him. 

“Do you need a fainting couch, Jeongguk-ah?” Yoongi jokes, gratified at the gleeful giggle he gets in return.

Yoongi ignores the heat in his cheeks at the show of fluttering eyelashes and a dramatic gasped breath. He’s aware it’s a humorous affected response, but it makes his heart clench in his chest nonetheless. He stares sightlessly down at the menu until the words blur, even though he’s not sure he can handle food with his stomach in knots. 

This isn’t really a date, or at the very least it’s undefined, some nebulous social activity between friends, yet for some bizarre reason, Yoongi’s body has decided to treat it as one. He prays to gods he doesn’t believe in that Jeongguk is entirely ignorant of his physiology and clammy hands.

Jeongguk’s tinkling laughter jolts Yoongi out of his reverie. He takes a deep whiff of the air around them, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Everything smells and looks so great here, hyung. I’m relieved you’re a meat eater.”

“How could I not be?”

“Well the ex-boyfriend you saw that one day was a vegetarian. No, hang on, not a vegetarian, a vegan.”  

Huffing, Yoongi folds his menu without having actually browsed it, and places it back on the table. He’s starving and surely Jeongguk is ravenous too. He already has their full order in mind. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” chuckles Jeongguk with a wry smile. “And it’s not how he chooses to live his life that bugs me, he can do whatever he likes, I’d have supported him no matter what. But suddenly, all of my food choices were dragged out like they were horrible, and he wanted to preach the vegan sermon to me. It’s not why we broke up, although his incessant proselytising was a lot to handle. I don’t miss being lectured on every date.”

Yoongi grimaces on Jeongguk’s behalf. He takes a sip of water, watching as Jeongguk mirrors the action, glad he’s hydrating after what had been a long set tonight. “Being scolded about the inhumane state of poultry farms didn’t make for a sexy date night?”

“It really did not,” groans Jeongguk, eyes twinkling with amusement. “He didn’t even care that I’ve always tried to support local sustainable farms and ethically raised animals, as if my own opinions and research on the topic didn’t matter to him.”

From there, the conversation flows seamlessly, and Yoongi can’t believe he’d been concerned about their time together being strained or forced. They hop around from topic to topic, everything from current political events to the local theater scene to why having a high-quality pillow with proper spine support is a health investment in both the present and the future. (Jeongguk claims anything can function as a pillow. Yoongi holds firm that pricey customizable memory foam is worth its insane price when it means no sore neck the next day. If it makes Yoongi inexplicably and deeply satisfied when Jeongguk is comfortable enough to tease him for being an old man with body aches from sleeping wrong, then that’s for Yoongi alone to know.)

They share plentiful small plates of food as the night marches on, time passing far too quickly for Yoongi’s liking, both of them claiming they’re stuffed by the end. As if on cue, the bill arrives, and Jeongguk practically snatches it out of midair. He’s reaching into his pocket by the time Yoongi fully realizes his intention. 

“Jeongguk-ah, hyung will pay,” states Yoongi, tone kind, yet firm enough to avoid a misunderstanding. He’s proud that Jeongguk has something substantial filling his belly and won’t go home hungry. 

Jeongguk bites his lip and shakes his head. “I’ve got it for both of us.”

“I ordered all the dishes and I asked you to join me in the first place,” insists Yoongi, now also reaching into his pocket. He waves away Jeongguk’s card. “It’s only fair.”

“No, that’s not how I remember it. I said ‘I could eat, hyung’ and then you said ‘good idea, I know just the place’, and then we ended up here.” Jeongguk splays his palm over the slip of contentious paper. “I’ve got this, hyung. Please.”

Yoongi shoves down the immense, undeniable urge to pay for the younger, already promising himself that he’ll offer to treat Jeongguk in the very near future. He lets Jeongguk have this one, for whatever obscure reason he wishes to buck propriety. Yoongi rocks to the side and slides his wallet back into his pants. “Alright, Jeongguk-ah. If you insist.” 

“Maybe we can go get dessert,” suggests Jeongguk, suddenly more bashful than he has any right to sound after fighting to pay the bill.

“Hyung’s treat,” declares Yoongi, arms crossing over his chest. He refuses to back down, mollified when Jeongguk shrugs and nods. He pauses, considering the large amount Jeongguk has just consumed, Yoongi purposely having put the juiciest, biggest morsels onto Jeongguk’s plate. “Wait, how do you still have space for dessert?”

The radiant beaming smile on Jeongguk’s face is everything.

Over the course of October, Yoongi and Jeongguk turn one coffee non-date and one dinner non-date into a regular routine. Jeongguk sings and Yoongi watches. He waits until Jeongguk’s fans disperse so he can put money in the guitar case, then take Jeongguk out for a quick casual bite, even if Jeongguk always pays for his own food, and often tries to cover Yoongi’s meal as well. Jeongguk shifts around his sets to include songs Yoongi has mentioned liking off-hand, he chooses times which are easier for Yoongi to attend. It’s as though he remembers every preference and detail Yoongi has ever told him, and tries to weave them into his performances. 

Once, Jeongguk had allowed a girl from the crowd to tuck a flower behind his ear, since she didn’t have any loose money to give to him. Yoongi had commented that flowers suit him, and then the next day Jeongguk had worn a full floral wreath around his head. He had laughed when Yoongi spotted him, trying to wink at him and spectacularly failing, which had only served to further endear him to Yoongi. He gets butterflies in his gut when he finds Jeongguk singing on a corner, his heart races whenever Jeongguk shyly brushes his hand against Yoongi’s, then intertwines their fingers as they walk down the street.

Yoongi tries to forget about the professional endeavor, the itch under his skin that urges him to keep pushing Jeongguk to reconsider, to just give it a shot. He wonders if it’s fear that holds Jeongguk back, that prevents him from stepping out of his comfort zone to pursue a career that seems like everything he should want. Jeongguk withholds so much from Yoongi that despite how close they get, there is always a certain gap which never gets bridged between them.

Yoongi feels as though he's missing something critical. There's a shadowy, concealed part of Jeongguk directly in front of him, if Yoongi could only fathom what to see, what to hear, what to ask; if he could only understand how to reach out for something unknown, always held just out of his grasp.

One small piece slots into place on the first Sunday in November. The weather is chilly, but there is no wind and bright sunshine, which makes everything feel warmer than it should. Yoongi hears Jeongguk before he sees him, although his voice is tight with annoyance, his back to him as he argues with someone at the mouth of the alley, close to where Jeongguk has his stool and guitar set up. 

Hovering at a distance, Yoongi tries to not eavesdrop, but he catches the end of their disagreement regardless.

“Leave it alone, Jimin. It’s not your business.”

“Gguk-ah, this could be a good opportunity for you, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

“I am not leaving Hobi-hyung behind.”

“No one said you should do that, Hoseok himself wouldn’t let you do that. But doing this, punishing yourself when you could be out there thriving-”

“How? How can I thrive when I’m the reason-”

Yoongi nearly chokes on the acrid self-loathing in Jeongguk's tone. His words are heavy, weighed down by grief and guilt, and it sounds like he's been torn in half, ripped apart from something so essential to his being that Yoongi aches for whatever Jeongguk has lost.

“Do not. Don’t do that. He doesn’t blame you, it wasn’t your fault. And how does it make sense for you to not pursue anything for yourself, just because Hoseokie-hyung can’t? You’d only be making life easier for you both once he’s all healed and ready to make a comeback. You’re allowing guilt to fester and hold you down. I think you get sick pleasure from beating yourself up. It’s masochism, Jeongguk.”

“Stop.”

“No, I won’t stop. Because this can’t go on like this, you are living a half-life, as though when Hoseokie-hyung got hurt, you got hurt right along with him.”

“It feels like I’m betraying him if I say yes.”

“You’re betraying him by saying no, bun. He believes in you, he trusts you. He told you that you don’t need his forgiveness, but you need to forgive yourself. Please.”

“Yeah okay. I’ll think about it, hyung.”

Yoongi should step further away, so as to not be noticed by Jeongguk, but when they break apart, he does a double take. “Park Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin glowers at him, before plastering a smile on his face. He dips his head in greeting, as manners dictate. They are of equal stature at BH Music, Jimin in the choreography department, while Yoongi is on the production side of the business. Yoongi is certain they have a few artists in common, remembers seeing him raise hell one time in a company-wide meeting after some low-grade scandal, but other than that, Jimin is an unknown quantity. Except now it appears that he and Jeongguk are quite familiar with one another. Idly, Yoongi wonders if Namjoon knows Jimin, and by extension, is aware of Jeongguk. 

“Min Yoongi-ssi. Are you here to watch my Jeonggukie?” Jimin wraps a possessive arm around Jeongguk’s waist, tugging him in nice and close. Jeongguk sighs and tips his head to rest against Jimin’s fluffy blond hair. He’s wearing a bright blue puffy down jacket and slim fit black jeans tucked into giant black boots, his long curls are pulled back in a ponytail, free from a beanie today. Yoongi feels too dressed down in comparison, and wishes it was him curled into Jeongguk's side.

Yoongi nods. He smiles at Jeongguk. It's a curious wild thing, like birds flapping around his rib cage, when Jeongguk smiles back, prior tension melted off of his sweet features. “Hi Jeongguk-ah.”

“How do you know Jimin?” Jeongguk blindly offers his cheek to Jimin, who presses a kiss there and then wipes off the smudge left behind. Yoongi yearns for that level of intimacy with Jeongguk. 

Yoongi follows as the other two men make their way back to the corner. “We work together. Not together-together, but at the same company. It’s pretty small and intimate, so we’re aware of one another.”

Jeongguk whirls around, tugging himself out of his friend’s grip, and pins Jimin with an accusatory glare. 

Jimin throws his hands up, overly dramatic. “What did you want me to say? You saw the company name on his card, you know I work there.”

“I figured you didn’t know each other at all,” mumbles Jeongguk, cheeks flushed, lips turned down in an endearing pout. “I’m gonna go do my set, try not to kill Yoongi-hyung, Jimin-ssi. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Jeongguk is three songs in, when Jimin finally breaks the ice between them. “I hope he says yes to you, by the way. You splashing into his life just caused a little professional upheaval, that’s all. But it’d be a nice thing for him. As far as the dating, I think you’re good for him. He’s happier now that you’re… well, whatever you’re doing together.” 

“We’re not dating, Jimin-ssi.” Yoongi argues, although it’s a weak rebuttal even to his own ears. “I watch him perform, I toss some money into his guitar case, we go out for coffee or a late-night meal, he insists on paying since he said I should stop putting money in his guitar case, and once we met up for brunch.”

“Once you met up for brunch.” Jimin deadpans, as he stares at Yoongi, an exasperated look on his face. “The two of you deserve each other. That’s all I’ll say.” 

Yoongi scowls and forces himself to pay attention to Jeongguk instead of putting too much stock into Jimin’s words. “I don’t even like this song, but I like Jeongguk’s interpretation of it. He took vapid pop EDM and made it soulful and poignant.”

With an undignified snort, Jimin also turns back to watch Jeongguk. 

Later, when he’s in bed, Yoongi’s phone pings with a text notification from a cell number he doesn’t recognize. 

[unknown]: hyung

[unknown]: its jeongguk

[Yoongi]: Hey

[busker boy]: what day/time u want me at your studio

[Yoongi]: You’ll sing for me? Are you serious??

[busker boy]: ye

[busker boy]: i’m all urs hyung

[Yoongi]: I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve used my contact information

[busker boy]: seems a worthy moment

[Yoongi]: This Wednesday afternoon, I’m open anytime after 2:00pm, I’ll let admin know you’re coming, so just stop by the front desk

[Yoongi]: If you need personalized directions, ask Jimin

[busker boy]: LMAOOOOO ><

[busker boy]: i’ll be there

[busker boy]: bells on 

[busker boy]: gn hyung

The first time Jeongguk shows up to BH Music, escorted to Yoongi’s door by none other than Jimin himself, who grins at him as he walks backwards all the way to the elevator, is uneventful in and of itself. However, that’s exactly why it feels so right to have Jeongguk here in Genius Lab. 

Yoongi shows Jeongguk the song he's put aside for him for over two months at this point. He’d laid the beat, composed a melody, written lyrics, rapped a verse, and then let it sit, as it has always been lacking something. When he heard Jeongguk busking, it’s as though his brain filled in every gap all at once; instantly, he’d known his sweet vocals and sincere charm are the missing pieces for this song, for so much more. 

As musicians their chemistry is undeniable, Jeongguk listening to what Yoongi has so far, absorbing the unfinished track, reading the lyrics and offering a few changes. He’s professional and polished; he has so many ideas and isn’t intimidated to voice them. It’s a pleasure exchanging thoughts and changes and riffs, and things only get better when Jeongguk steps into the recording booth. He acts as though he’s been there before, knowing how it all works, not hesitant to let his vocals speak volumes. He imparts emotion as easy as breathing, he understands all of Yoongi’s ideas on what he’s trying to say through his music, through this song, and it’s all audible in his singing. 

“This note you have here,” remarks Jeongguk, waving to get Yoongi’s attention. He’s just executed a flawless vocal run in harmony after the second chorus, something Yoongi has never even considered in this song, yet it’s the ideal lead-in to the romantic, poignant instrumental bridge. It’s a risky choice to skip lyrics in the song’s transition, but with the way Jeongguk gradually eases the vocals into the music, it becomes an impactful moment in the track. Yoongi can no longer imagine it any other way. “When you say ‘higher, like flying’, do you mean literally further up the scale, or falsetto, or are you going for pure emotion?”

Yoongi pushes the button to open up communication between the booth and studio. “If I respond with a simple ‘yes’, does that answer your question?”

Jeongguk scoffs without derision, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Actually it does, PD-nim. So flying and falling and falling in love, all at the same time, but light and airy. You want it all.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“Oh! Wait, can I try something?”

“Of course,” replies Yoongi, sparing no thought for his own pride. Jeongguk’s input is priceless, and Yoongi is having the time of his life bouncing ideas back and forth like this with him. It’s an added highlight that Jeongguk seems to be enjoying his stint in the recording booth as well. “I’d be a fool to not trust the gut instinct of someone with perfect pitch.”

“I don’t think I have that,” mumbles Jeongguk, cheeks flushing nearly instantly. 

Yes you do, you humble idiot, thinks Yoongi, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. He’s thought so before, already fancying himself fairly well-versed on Jeongguk’s vast vocal abilities after weeks of indulging himself in them. The way he flawlessly begins songs without accompaniment, always finding the proper note with ease before strumming his guitar. Despite Jeongguk brushing it off, it’s not something most singers can do.

Jeongguk reaches up to cover his ears, although they’re already covered with expensive headphones, so he ends up holding the cushioned earcups and looking equal parts adorable and ridiculous. “I just sing, hyung.”

“Well, if you ‘just sing’, then I just throw a few notes together and make it into music, no big deal.” Yoongi smirks and shrugs, an exaggerated enough reaction that Jeongguk should be able to hear both the teasing and the sincerity as intended. 

“I’ve listened to a lot of music, I’ve sung a lot of songs, maybe I’m simply good at mimicry,” argues Jeongguk. Yoongi bites his tongue in order to not repeat the praise until Jeongguk believes him, even though a part of him demands it. He shushes the stubborn imp on his shoulder, swallowing this mild disagreement he knows with absolute certainty they’ll revisit if they continue to work together. 

If. Yoongi is already addicted, already counting on it.

“Okay, Jeongguk-ah. Show me what you’ve got.” 

As Jeongguk plays around with how much breath he delivers on the song’s climax before the third and final pre-chorus, Yoongi indeed feels like he’s both flying and falling all at once. He gazes at Jeongguk, crooning into the microphone, eyes closed and forehead pinched in concentration. 

Jeongguk deserves to be aware of his own power, how impactful he has the potential to be as a singer. He can do so much more than perform on street corners. He’s got so much talent and drive burning through him, it’s easy for Yoongi to see, and he can’t comprehend how Jeongguk doesn’t crave the stars. Yoongi is thrilled he’s finally taking a step forward, reaching out with both hands to seize a future for himself which teases at the horizon.

Yoongi nearly drags Jeongguk up to his boss’s office so they can hammer out contract negotiations immediately. Due to the late hour, and the fact Jeongguk would surely fight him tooth and nail, he bides his time and exercises his patience. He just got Jeongguk here, he won’t chase him away. 

The weeks tick by, until the first white snowfall dusts Seoul in the early days of December. Jeongguk is able to come around to Genius Lab more often, only having to maneuver around his two paying jobs, busking opportunities scarce as pedestrians hustle down wintery sidewalks. He tells Yoongi he’ll try and sing carols at a mall once the holiday season really gets underway, but Yoongi hopes by then he’ll be signed here, a professional singer come the new year.

Jeongguk records his vocals, rerecords his vocals, and then adds numerous layers of ad libs and harmonies which Yoongi merely has to place over each other. There is a fifteen second stretch of vocals where it sounds like there are six Jeongguks harmonizing, and Yoongi nearly swoons every time he hears it. This is gold. He asks Jeongguk if he can call one friend down to hear what they’ve done so far, pleased when Jeongguk agrees.

Namjoon knocks and his jaw drops in surprise when Jeongguk opens the door to Yoongi’s studio. He peeks around Jeongguk, and the conversation they share with eye contact alone is quite lengthy. Yoongi sighs.

“So this is what you’ve been up to, hyung.” Far too eager for Yoongi's peace of mind, Namjoon turns to greet Jeongguk. “Hi, I’m Kim Namjoon. Yoongi’s coworker, a producer here, and also a very close friend of his, or at least that’s what I thought.”

“Ah.” Jeongguk pauses, mulling over the barrage of information before responding. He dips his head. “I’m Jeon Jeongguk. I’m helping Yoongi-hyung with a song. I’m his… friend.”

“Friend who’s a boy, or a boyfriend, hyung?” Namjoon grins at Yoongi, and Yoongi steadfastly ignores him. He clicks around his computer, pretending the song's layers aren't easy to locate, like he hasn’t memorized every detail about it. 

“That’s a good question, Namjoon-ssi,” replies Jeongguk quietly. “I’d love to hear hyung’s opinion.”

Jaw dropping, realizing he likely looks ridiculous as he gapes at Jeongguk, Yoongi spins around in his chair. “That’s not up to just me.”

Jeongguk blushes, face heating into a pretty color as he fidgets with his fingers. He toys with his lip ring, trying to have his own silent discussion with Yoongi. Yoongi hears the door to his studio click shut, Namjoon stepping out, probably loitering in the hallway waiting for a tongue lashing from Yoongi, which won’t come if Jeongguk somehow hasn’t been scarred by his best friend being stupid. 

“Jeongguk-ah, I can’t make that choice alone.”

“I know, but I’ve been trying to date you for a while. My friends say I should just come out and ask you, and I’m inclined to agree since you haven’t really picked up on any of my signals.” Jeongguk laughs, a little awkward, a lot adorable, as he gazes at Yoongi. “I mean it, I like you a lot.”

A syrupy warmth spreads through Yoongi’s chest. “Is that why you basically tried to give all my money back?”

“Yes,” confirms Jeongguk, flush crawling down his neck and disappearing underneath the devastatingly wide collar of his grey distressed sweater. “I didn’t want you to see me as some charity case, not when I’ve been trying to get you to just see me. ”

“Oh Jeongguk-ah, I see you,” murmurs Yoongi. “Believe me, I see you. And I absolutely do not think you’re a charity case, sweetheart. I like you too, I’m attracted to you. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to come on too strong or anything.”

Jeongguk’s blush intensifies, rosy to the roots of his hair, eyes unblinking as he stares at Yoongi. He looks warm, but far from uncomfortable. He’s murmuring something under his breath that Yoongi can’t quite discern, although he thinks it almost sounds like ‘sweetheart’. His mind whirs at him, as he replays the term of endearment he’d tossed out so casually. It had felt natural to address Jeongguk as such, but it’s clearly risky for their combined heart health to be unchaperoned right now.

Just as Yoongi opens his mouth to move the conversation along, Jeongguk shakes his head and laughs in disbelief. “I’ve been holding your hand whenever we’re even remotely close to each other.”

“I thought maybe you’re touchy. My best friend’s brother is basically a koala human, an octopus, he’ll cling to you like a limpet as soon as he knows your name and accepts you into his circle of love.” Yoongi snickers, already planning to introduce Jeongguk to both Seokjin and Taehyung, forgetting why he didn’t when they’d been with him and came across Jeongguk performing on the street. “You’ve seen him actually, he and his brother were with me once when you were busking.”

Jeongguk starts to reply, then stops as if moderating an internal debate. He squints and then sighs. “I think? I know him already? Is it Kim Taehyung?”

“You know Taehyung?” When Jeongguk nods, Yoongi shuffles over to the door and pokes his head out into the hallway. He gestures for Namjoon to rejoin them, who smiles sheepishly and slips back inside. “Joon-ah, Jeongguk knows Taehyungie. And Park Jimin is one of his best friends.”

“Really?” Namjoon looks as surprised as Yoongi feels. "Small world. I know everyone always says that like some meaningful platitude, but it really is true sometimes."

Jeongguk giggles and runs a hand through his hair, before scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, Taehyung and Jimin-hyung are friends, that’s how I met him, only pretty recently though. I’ve known Yoongi-hyung longer. But Jimin and I have known each other forever, since this one dance camp in Busan, and that’s also how I met-”

Yoongi and Namjoon wait for Jeongguk to finish his thought, until the silence stretches further than is comfortable. It’s as though he swallowed a name on the tip of his tongue and can’t summon the strength to force it back up.

Suddenly desperate to provide clarity to them both, to make something feel emotionally easy for once, Yoongi breaks the tension. “Joon-ah, ask me again.”

Namjoon tilts his head in consideration, then understands. “Hyung, is Jeongguk your boyfriend or simply a friend who’s a boy?”

Trying to get back to solid ground, instead of floundering in the quicksand of Jeongguk’s half-truths, Yoongi holds out his fist towards Jeongguk. “Boyfriend. Since apparently we’ve sort of been dating.”

Jeongguk snickers and bumps his fist against Yoongi’s. “Boyfriend. I’ll take you on our first actual date as two people who actually realize we’re dating, as soon as we release the song.”

“Deal,” rasps Yoongi. This is good. This is very good. He found a rare jewel of a singer on the streets of Seoul, and happened to give his heart away somewhere along the way. Even though it’s early days, he trusts Jeongguk with it, and can’t think of anyone more gentle, more kind, more thoughtful. He’ll hold Jeongguk’s heart with the same reverence. 

“That was very romantic, guys,” sniffs Namjoon, wiping a fake tear. “Now play me this song already, I’m getting old.”

Yoongi is excited for Jeongguk to hear the final version of the song. They’d completed everything last night. He will get Jeongguk’s approval on how it’s released, on how his name and credits should appear, and then they'll drop the song on Yoongi’s SoundCloud and go on a long-anticipated date. Jeongguk hasn’t told him any details, but last week instructed him to dress nicely. Yoongi glances at his crisp charcoal suit hanging on the back of the studio door. 

Yoongi hasn't heard anything from Jeongguk all day. Normally, they text each other frequently, at least daily, Jeongguk sending a photo of a cute dog wearing booties who came into the coffee shop, Yoongi texting him lyric inspiration from the bus stop. Today has been silent, so Yoongi has just shot off a rapid text under the guise of confirming the time for tonight that they'd agreed upon yesterday.

A light rap sounds at that very moment. Yoongi gets up to open the door, furrowing his brows in confusion when he sees that it’s Jeongguk. He’d given the door code to him on day one, so he could come and go as he pleases. He’s well-known by this point at the front desk, so it hasn’t been any hassle for him to simply waltz into Genius Lab. Once, he’d come so early that Yoongi had later found him asleep on the couch, which had done tremulous things to Yoongi's emotional state. 

“Gguk-ah?” Yoongi swings the door wider, and steps back to allow Jeongguk space to enter. “Sweetheart?”

Jeongguk’s face is pale, his lip chewed up as though it’s been put through an anxiety-ridden wringer. He begins to pace, nerves palpable, jumping off of him and skittering around the room. Yoongi is on edge just watching him. He’s in black joggers and asymmetrical sneakers and an oversized watercolor hoodie. He isn’t dressed for a fancy date, which is the least of Yoongi’s concerns. Jeomgguk looks cozy and warm in comfort clothes, and also like he’s slowly losing his mind. 

“Jeongguk, do you want to go over the details?” Yoongi hopes something boring like how to spell his name will calm Jeongguk down. 

“I can’t do this anymore, I shouldn’t be here!” 

Yoongi freezes, unable to process what Jeongguk means, their song, their date, something else which is possibly one of the many things he keeps hidden from Yoongi. It doesn’t bother Yoongi, Jeongguk doesn’t owe him anything, not his secrets nor his pain, but Yoongi can’t help him if he doesn’t understand. He’s at such a loss here, grappling for anything and everything he’s aware of, and coming up empty-handed. 

Jeongguk suddenly collapses onto the couch, like a marionette who’s strings have been cut. He slumps; he tries to appear small. He looks so vulnerable that Yoongi longs to scoop him up and protect him, to stand beside him while he wages battles that are unknown to Yoongi. He takes one step and sees Jeongguk stiffen up, even as he peers up at him. Unshed tears swim in his eyes, and he just looks so unbearably sad, helplessness claws at Yoongi.

“I’m leaving. I’m done.” Jeongguk averts his eyes, fists clenched tightly against his thighs. “I have to be done.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what happened, he doesn’t understand anything. He needs guidance from Jeongguk, a hint, a clue, anything that shows him how to assist in whatever causes him turmoil.

“And the song, Jeongguk-ah?”

“Please, hyung. Don’t release it.”

Jeongguk stands up as abruptly as he’d sat down, refusing to look at Yoongi. He strides to the door, and then he's gone. 

Yoongi allows himself one full minute to hope Jeongguk will return, to wallow in confusion, to mourn whatever has been lost here tonight. He doesn’t have a clue why or how things transpired the way they just did, but when he prods at his tender heart, it aches; it aches for him and it aches for Jeongguk, a bruise that mars the muscle.

Pulling himself together, Yoongi focuses on getting answers. He has no idea what happened. Ignoring the useless suit hanging on the door, Yoongi grabs his wallet, phone, and keys, and storms out of there. He can only think of one place to start. 

A short time later, thankful he took his car today, Yoongi parks and lets himself into a familiar apartment building with a spare key he’d been given for emergencies or "any random reason hyung ever wants to visit me". He stalks up the stairs, having no patience for the elevator, not stopping moving until he’s in front of Taehyung’s door. He knocks, loud and sharp, over and over until he hears rushed movement on the other side.

“Taehyung-ah!” 

“Hyung, what is it, are you okay?” Taehyung is wild-eyed as he glances around Yoongi, sticking his head out to look both ways down the hallway. “Is it Seokjinie-hyung? His restaurant?” 

As he peppers Yoongi with questions, Taehyung pats Yoongi down as though checking him for injuries through the layers of his coat. 

“I’m… not fine, but I’m fine, Tae-yah. As far as I know, everyone is physically okay, I’m just very worried about Jeongguk. Everything was good, and then he came to Genius Lab today and had a mini breakdown and- Park Jimin!”

Yoongi cuts himself off as he sees Jimin right there in Taehyung’s apartment. He seems far less smug than the last time Yoongi had seen him. In contrast, his mouth is drawn and his forehead is pinched. 

Jimin rushes over to Yoongi in the entryway, already bending down to slide his boots on. “What do you mean a mini breakdown? Yoongi, where is he? What happened?”

“I don’t know, he came over, he freaked out, he asked me not to post the song, and then he left,” recalls Yoongi, sharing everything that feels pertinent with Jimin. Jeongguk’s best friend being nervous isn't doing Yoongi’s fraying composure any favors. 

“Taetae, I’m gonna check their apartment. I’ll… I’ll keep you updated,” promises Jimin, as shrugs on his jacket and bolts out the door. 

“Let me know if you need me to do something!” Taehyung follows Jimin to the door, calling after him. Then he whirls around to face Yoongi. “Go with Jimin. Go, hyung.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told again, relieved to be given an instruction. He sprints back down the three flights of stairs, catching up with Jimin at the front door. “I’m coming.”

Jimin purses his lips, a rapid fire mental debate in his head as they hustle to the parking lot. Yoongi isn’t certain what he’ll do if Jimin sincerely says no. “Okay. I think it’s for Jeonggukie’s own good, that’s why. I can’t be sure he went home, but when in doubt, he always goes to our hyung. So do I.”

They stop. Jimin glances at Yoongi, hands on his hips. “I assume you drove?”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi gestures towards his car. During a tense but mercifully short car ride, Jimin directs Yoongi to an apartment building in a residential neighborhood, although Yoongi isn’t entirely certain who lives here. “Where are we, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin smiles wanly. He points to the sleek, tall building they’re parked beside. “Jeongguk’s place. He lives here with our Hoseokie-hyung, and I live in that next building over.”

Jimin lets them in through massive glass doors, then past security and a front desk. They make their way to the tenth floor, all the way on the top. The building is as beautiful inside as it is outside. Yoongi is even more confused, Jeongguk juggling two part time jobs, and then busking for tips, not making any sense, unless this Hoseok is loaded.

Turning to Yoongi, Jimin flashes a more relaxed smile than earlier. “You’re helping me feel more calm about what happened, it’s probably all just a big misunderstanding. Thank you for coming with me. I think Jeonggukie will be pleased too. At least eventually.”

Jimin punches in a code and opens the door to one of the most stylish apartments Yoongi has ever seen. It’s not gilded glamour, it’s not overly opulent, but it’s spacious and open and modern, tastefully decorated and exceedingly tidy. The art on the walls is all colorful and funky and eclectic, while the stunning large-scale photography is stark black and white. 

“Jimin-ah, is that you?” A voice Yoongi doesn’t recognize calls from the living room, just out of view. It must be Hoseok, who seems to be the key in unraveling the mystery shrouding Jeongguk.

Jimin shrugs at Yoongi as they remove their shoes. “Yep, it’s me!” 

They walk into the living room, a part of the glittering Seoul skyline right outside the massive floor to ceiling window. Yoongi ignores the view in favor of finding Jeongguk, who is curled up against another man’s side. 

“You must be Yoongi,” guesses Hoseok, a genuine smile adorning his face. He seems quite happy to see Yoongi. Jeongguk’s head snaps up from where it has been buried on Hoseok’s shoulder. “I was wondering when I’d ever get to meet you. Hi, I’m Jung Hoseok.”

“Hyung,” whispers Jeongguk, cheeks flushed and damp from tears. His bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry.”

“Min Yoongi, nice to meet you,” replies Yoongi by rote, before he turns to Jeongguk. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?”

“It’s hard, hyung. I feel so awful about everything, and it’s all my fault, everything even before you, all of this, and I don’t want you to think I led you on, because I still very much like you, and want to date you- ohh I had the best date planned for tonight, gods I like you so much even if I’m dumb and not acting like it, and-”

Jeongguk is cut off by Jimin gently smacking him in the back of the head. He looms behind the couch like a gargoyle, ready to administer another loving slap if Jeongguk carries on. “Stop it. Stop putting yourself down, like you aren’t allowed to make mistakes. Like you’re the one who actually caused the accident.” 

“It could have been any of us, bun,” agrees Hoseok, combing his fingers through Jeongguk’s loose curls. “I’ve never blamed you. Wrong place, wrong time. If you’d slammed on your brakes for a yellow light, maybe we’d have gotten rear-ended instead.”

Yoongi takes in Hoseok’s right leg, held out straight in front of him on the couch, and he starts to fill in gaps. This conversation between the other three sounds like one they've had several times before. Yoongi notices Jeongguk’s mild shaking, the way Jimin and Hoseok's words don't seem to be heard, and he changes the topic. Perhaps not the best course, but it’s what his instincts are guiding him to do. He gestures to the huge framed poster up above the couch. “So one of you is a huge fan of Golden?”

Jimin makes a sound like a dying whale and bursts into the loudest laughter Yoongi has ever heard, as he disappears behind the couch. Jeongguk stares up at him with watery eyes, and Hoseok cocks his head in serene amusement. “Are you serious right now? I just need to know before I respond.”

“What?” Yoongi squints up at the massive poster, crisp and bright, in pristine condition. 

Golden, the triple threat duo who rap, sing, and dance, all while wearing shiny gold masks. Yoongi remembers when they made huge waves on a reality show a couple years ago. He never watched, but it had been impossible to avoid hearing about them, about how they were scouted, how one company even wanted to separate them into two individual artists. They’d won some obscenely large prize and he had assumed they’d gone on to be signed somewhere. There had been some huge charity performances at Lotte World featuring Golden last year as well, the advertisements plastered all over public transit and billboards, but it’s not Yoongi’s scene. He’d been particularly annoyed by the endless fan chatter and speculation about what they looked like under the masks and costumes, as though that has any bearing on being dynamic entertainers. 

“Reality success is real success, I don’t care what industry snobs try to imply otherwise.” Yoongi hates pretension with every fiber of his being. Talent and work ethic and charisma is all the same, however someone goes about the grind. “I don’t personally follow Golden, but I admire their idea and clearly, people love them. Like yourselves. Please don’t assume I’ll tease you or anything.” 

“Okay, well I’m glad to know your stance on reality show competitors, Yoongi-ssi,” remarks Hoseok, eyes practically dancing with joy. 

“Please, call me familiarly. I’m sure we’ll see quite a lot of each other, and if you’re family to Jeonggukie, that’s good enough for me.” Yoongi smiles at Hoseok, already at ease with how comfortable Jeongguk is with him, glad he’s got people solidly on his side, by his side. Yoongi really hopes to be one of those people for him too. 

Jimin bounces back into the room, Yoongi not even aware he’d left, holding something behind his back. “You’ve never seen anything from Golden? Not any interviews or performances or appearances on popular variety shows? Not even commercials or anything? So many companies hired them to sell products.”

Yoongi wracks his brain, but he’s positive he avoided it all. “Why, are you going to indoctrinate me? Let me and Jeongguk talk first, and then I’ll hang out and watch performances with you, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin does a little happy dance and pulls out his phone one-handed. “I’m texting Tae to come over, and I’m telling him to bring his brother. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

Jeongguk scowls at the entire room, his eyes a little frantic. “I need to talk to Yoongi-hyung. Go put those away, Jimin-ssi.”

“Do you want to go somewhere, Gguk-ah?” Yoongi lowers his voice, hoping he sounds nothing except reassuring. He’s burning with curiosity, but more than anything, he wants Jeongguk to feel relaxed. That alone allows him to tap into endless reservoirs of patience. 

“Here’s fine, it’s nothing hyungs don’t already know. And it’ll be easier for me if they’re here.” Jeongguk seems to deflate, although not in defeat; he's already less upset. It's more of a resignation to his fate, one that's been a long time coming. Swinging himself away from Hoseok, who pats his thigh in return, Jeongguk faces Yoongi. He brings his legs up and wraps his arms around them, his oversized sleeves tugged over his hands. 

Jimin pipes up from the chair he’s now perched in. “Are you sure you don’t want these to break the ice?”

“Fine,” concedes Jeongguk, waving a hand at Jimin before tucking his face into his knees. “Show him.”

Jimin tosses a bundle of cloth at Yoongi, who instinctively reaches out to grab it, now holding something much firmer than he'd expected. He cautiously opens the bag and tugs out two golden masks. He is lost for a moment, before it all clicks into place, the whole picture unfurling for him. The crowd size around Jeongguk makes more sense now, certainly other people recognized him, perhaps only Yoongi has his head buried in pop culture sand. Hundreds of questions slam into his mind, but the most important point makes its way to the forefront. 

“Jeongguk, look at me, please,” requests Yoongi, trying to maintain a modicum of composure, but willing to beg if necessary. He waits until big brown eyes peer over at him before continuing. “You said once your voice isn’t enough on its own, but I’m telling you that you’re wrong. I’m sure you’re phenomenal as one half of Golden, I’m sure Hoseok brings things out of you that you couldn’t achieve as a soloist. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t achieve other, equally impressive things as yourself.”

“Yoongi-hyung.” Yoongi anticipates the fight from Jeongguk, so he plows ahead, trying to make his point. He steals a glance at Hoseok, who regards him with respect and approval, which bolsters Yoongi’s confidence. 

“Let me finish, sweetheart. I’m not saying you should be a soloist, I’m not saying you should explore a future career without Hoseok by your side. But what I am saying is that you are undeniably a lovely singer by yourself. You captured my attention, just as you, all on your own. I asked you to help with my song, solely because of you.” Hoseok and Jimin are emphatically nodding, as though this is not the first time this same message has been imparted to Jeongguk. “The reason you probably won that reality competition is because you’re both special individually, and you make each other more special together, sure, but you’re still special in your own right.”

“My Jeonggukie,” croons Hoseok, reaching over and squeezing Jeongguk’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. We can still be Golden, but it’s okay if you want to explore something that we don’t do together. And maybe at some point I’ll explore something alone again too, just like I did before we joined forces. I had that chance already, but you never did. It’s okay if you want to work with Yoongi.”

In the middle of further discussion, and Jeongguk ever so slowly warming to the idea that following his own path temporarily isn’t abandoning Hoseok, the doorbell rings. Jimin hoots and goes to answer it, cheerfully leading three more people into the fray. 

“Joon-ah!” Yoongi explains. “What are you doing here?”

Namjoon laughs and scratches his cheek. “I was with hyung when Jimin called, and heard bits and pieces of what’s going on, and I thought ‘why not?’ and then ‘this should be good’.”

Jeongguk springs out of his seat, lowering himself into a full ninety degree bow towards Seokjin, mumbling something about a culinary hero. The eldest among them gently clasps Jeongguk’s upper arm and encourages him to stand back up. “Please don’t bow like I’m your long-lost uncle. I promise I don’t deserve that level of respect.” Someone snorts in response, which sets off a chain reaction of amusement, and even Jeongguk giggles at the sudden lightening of the atmosphere in the room.

Any remaining ice is effectively broken amongst the seven of them. Everyone introduces themselves and makes themselves at home, fitting together so seamlessly Yoongi should probably feel more concerned than he does. It seems right, somehow. 

“So,” teases Taehyung, “I hear we’re watching some classic reality television tonight. I was promised a vintage 2019 Korea’s Ultimate Entertainer season binge, aka Golden’s run to the championship.” 

Jeongguk and Hoseok exchange a weighted glance and then both turn to Yoongi. Yoongi tips his head in agreement and throws the masks in their direction. They laugh and put them on, standing up to pageant wave at the raucous cheers that suddenly fill the living room. Hoseok appears to be moving well, Jeongguk helping him back down onto the couch after they're done making a scene. 

“I’m mostly better, still doing physical therapy to get back into top dancing shape. The cold weather is setting my flexibility back a little, but it’ll get there,” states Hoseok, speaking to the room, but mostly assuaging Jeongguk’s fears. He lowers his voice, but Yoongi still hears him. “We’ll be back, Gguk-ah. You and me. Swear you’ll let Yoongi release your song, with your name on it.”

Jeongguk nods, accepting the hug from Hoseok. “I will, hyung. I promise.”

The rest of the evening, which lasts way too long into the wee hours and involves everyone scattered around Jeongguk and Hoseok’s living room, guest room, and bedrooms, is the most random fun Yoongi can recall having in a long time. He laughs so much his sides physically hurt, he watches fabulous performances from Golden, and he gets to witness Jeongguk in full bloom. When they all finally disperse the next day, Yoongi is certain that their two friend groups will be permanently merged from now on, interacting all night long as though they've been in one another's lives already for years. Yoongi leaves in the morning far fuller than when he arrived the night before. 

“What do you think, hyung?” Jeongguk beams at Yoongi from across the table, eyes aglow, his entire expression as though he’s lit up from within. He’s unfairly handsome in his navy turtleneck sweater, hair pulled back high and tight off of his face, ears packed with dangly metal, facial piercings glinting in the low restaurant lighting. “How do you like part one of our first date”

Yoongi smiles back, taking a sip of his Old Fashioned, the perfect finish to a delicious meal. He thinks he looks fairly dashing himself, finally putting his favorite charcoal suit to use for their evening. “It’s very nice. Very chic, cool but upscale, sophisticated but modern. The dining room lighting fixtures are interesting, they look like they’ve been specially designed for the space with how they hang over the tables at that angle.”

Jeongguk laughs, loud and unrestrained. “Did you read the marketing team’s notes or what? That sounds so polished, like you should write reviews or something.”

“I enjoy eating meals out, I enjoy the atmosphere of dining rooms,” explains Yoongi, running the tip of his finger along the rim of his glass. “I enjoy the architectural details of certain restaurants, especially the lighting- What? Why are you laughing?” 

“You’re so amazing, hyung,” gushes Jeongguk, reaching over to clasp Yoongi’s hands above the table. “The more I learn about you, the more I think you’re the most beautiful, incredible person I’ve ever had the good luck of knowing. And I say that after taking a couple of Seokjin-hyung’s home chef classes.” 

“Please tell hyung exactly what you just told me then,” laughs Yoongi, running his thumb across Jeongguk’s knuckles. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Maybe we’re meant to be by universal forces stronger than us.”

Jeongguk sparkles underneath the lamps, far prettier than any of the fixtures or fittings. He gazes at Yoongi with wonder, as though Yoongi is the one of them worth looking at. “Like we’re tied together with Fate’s red string?”

Yoongi only hopes to radiate all the star-like brightness back towards Jeongguk, where the light and the warmth belong. “Yes, exactly like that.”

“That’s so romantic,” murmurs Jeongguk, tipping his head to the side so he’s perfectly surrounded by the amber ambiance in the room, a halo. “You’re full of surprises, hyung.”

“I might have another surprise, if you’re interested.” Yoongi swallows down his nerves. This has the potential to be huge, for Jeongguk and Hoseok, but he needs Jeongguk to hear it first, from him, before he presents his case to the company’s upper management to draw up an offer. 

Jeongguk smiles and looks up through his lashes, and Yoongi wonders if he has any idea how gorgeous he is, how captivating. “Now you have to tell me. The ice skating part of the evening can wait until after you explain the surprise.”

“You’re taking us ice skating?”

“Not until you tell me the surprise.”

Yoongi pauses to subtly preen at the awareness that Jeongguk prepared an entire evening for them. He had known it in theory, but it’s a nice boost to be experiencing it in practice. He wants to continue their date, but this moment comes first. Yoongi can’t hold it in any longer.

“Nothing’s happened yet, I want to run it by you first,” begins Yoongi, glad they’re still holding hands. A part of him longs to yank Jeongguk over the table and kiss him to within an inch of his life.

“You’re a genius, per the title of your studio, so I’m sure it’s really good,” says Jeongguk, a playful sparkle in his eyes like stars in the night sky. 

Yoongi thinks maybe he’s falling in love. 

Yoongi thinks there’s nothing maybe about it. 

“I want Golden to sign with BH Music, you and Hoseok, with flexible terms so you can each do your own thing, but also as your brilliant and insanely talented golden duo.” Yoongi laughs and shakes his head. “I went down a YouTube rabbit hole after the Korea’s Ultimate Entertainer marathon. I watched everything you two have ever done, Jung Kook and j-hope of Golden. Some of your busking performances have even been posted. If it was recorded, I watched it.”

Jeongguk groans, head in hands. “Even the color changing gum commercial?”

“Oh yes,” says Yoongi with a click of his tongue, giving Jeongguk’s hands a squeeze. “I liked the jazzy choreo, you had canes and top hats, what’s not to love.”

“Literally everything,” mutters Jeongguk, but he’s grinning. He's undeniably proud of himself and his professional partner, as he should be. Yoongi's heart stutters in his chest, and he forces himself to stay on task.

“Seriously, you guys are crazy, both of you. Golden can do anything, any genre, any style, I’m convinced.” Yoongi watches a hundred different emotions flit across Jeongguk’s face. “You don’t need to answer right now, you can think about it. If you say no, I’ll forget it, but if you’re game, and Hoseok is game, I’ll get the process started.” 

“I trust you, Yoongi-hyung. You and your judgement. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m in if Hobi-hyung is in, and I think he will be. We’d been pretty close to signing a contract with a record label before the car accident. The offer was rescinded almost right away.” Jeongguk looks away and Yoongi pulls gently on his hand, needing to ensure that he's listening to his next words. 

“You’ve got to let yourself heal from it, sweetheart. It sounds like exactly what it was, an accident. Hoseok is okay, he’ll be better than ever soon, he explained his recovery and he’s almost there. And he told me that the other driver, who is at fault for t-boning you on a red light, by the way, is okay. So allow yourself to be okay too.” Yoongi hopes if Jeongguk hears it enough, he’ll be able to embrace it. “Hoseok and Jimin and me, and I’m sure your family too, everyone who loves you, we’re all so grateful nothing worse happened. Everyone’s okay, Jeongguk.”

They pay for their meals and head to the ice rink, where they spend a seasonably cold winter evening bundled up over their dress clothes. Yoongi feels ridiculous in his huge hat and mittens, but he’s a hypocrite because he thinks Jeongguk is adorable in his matching fair isle scarf and beanie with fluffy pom. 

Gliding around the outdoor rink, hand in hand, Yoongi hums the first song he ever saw Jeongguk perform, on a mellow dusky evening in late summer. 

Jeongguk begins to sing along, quietly under his breath, but Yoongi hears him anyway. He never wants to stop hearing him. “Secrets I’ve held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours.”

Light snow begins to fall just as they’re losing feeling in their toes. It’s pure and white, a crystalline wonderland, but Jeongguk shivers once too often for Yoongi, so he claims he’s freezing. Jeongguk gallantly says they should call it a night and go inside to get warm. Yoongi already misses the flushed glow on his cheeks, and wishes they could ice skate all night.

They turn in their skates and each nurse a cup of hot cocoa, Yoongi using his thumb to swipe a blob of whipped cream off of Jeongguk’s upper lip. Wide warm eyes watch Yoongi as he pops his thumb into his mouth, sucking off the sweetness. He loves making Jeongguk blush, pretty and pink, and he sees the desired effect instantly. A fleeting wisp of desire pulses through Yoongi, low and heated, and for a moment he hopes they're going somewhere dark and private so he can make Jeongguk flushed in other ways. He tucks those thoughts away for a later time, content to follow whatever plans have been painstakingly laid out.

After they’re finished, Jeongguk drives them to their next destination, which is a mystery to Yoongi until they pull into the parking lot for BH Music. He allows a tendril of hope to bloom out of the soil.

“Jeongguk-ah?” 

“I’m taking you to Genius Lab, hyung.”

Yoongi unlocks the building, waving to the late night security guard. They wind their way down stairs and through the hallway until Jeongguk stops them outside the door. He grabs onto Yoongi’s forearms, fingers wrapping easily around him. Yoongi wishes he were wearing fewer layers. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, gazing at Yoongi with determination and excitement. Without a word, he lets go, and punches in the door code. If it were anyone else but Jeongguk waving him through to his own studio, Yoongi would be less than impressed, but it is Jeongguk. This feels monumental, and Yoongi doesn’t even comprehend what’s going on yet. 

“Can you pull up file ‘220730’ for me, hyung?” Jeongguk kneels on the floor beside Yoongi’s chair. He waits patiently, watching Yoongi boot up his computer and scroll through his files, finally finding their song. Yoongi’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. A tiny flare of joy dances in his soul, the perfect end to a perfect evening, out with a perfect man for him.

“I’m sure you have a snappy name for it, but I was hoping to fill in my artist information as I want it credited on the track.” Jeongguk glances at Yoongi, a bright smile on his face, and Yoongi leans over, closing the distance until their mouths meet. He presses against Jeongguk’s soft petal lips, feeling Jeongguk respond and push back, a hand clutching at his thigh. A call and an answer, rebounding back and forth. Yoongi pulls away, and Jeongguk chases him, giggling as he kisses Yoongi once, twice, three times more before sighing a tiny pleased sound.

“Are you sure you want this released, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, hyung. Tonight. I’ve never been more sure.”

Yoongi clicks around the credits, filling in his own artist moniker for this offering, as well as the title he’d originally toyed with after Jeongguk sang in the recording booth that very first day. Then he slides the keyboard over to Jeongguk to fill in. He gasps. “That’s such a pretty title, hyung.”

“Thank you, it felt apt.” Yoongi spins away to give Jeongguk privacy for his reveal. 

Jeongguk taps at the keyboard with single-minded focus. He finishes typing and there’s a pause and a deep breath, before Jeongguk stands up and shuffles around to face Yoongi. He looms over him, and Yoongi briefly revels in that. Jeongguk leans in and cups Yoongi’s cheek with a slender hand, kissing him once again, gentle lips pressed against Yoongi’s own, then his forehead and both of his cheeks, then the tip of his nose and his chin. 

Delicately, Jeongguk kisses Yoongi on the mouth one last time before letting go. It’s all sweet and chaste, and over entirely too soon. Jeongguk spins Yoongi’s chair to proudly show him the monitor, where the track information is displayed in crisp white font.

“And Now It’s Us” by SUGA feat. Jung Kook of Golden