Work Text:
He did it again.
Or rather, he rang again.
Twenty-five days in a row.
It’s this high-pitched doofus who calls in every single show with the apparent aim of ruining Yoongi’s mood. Yoongi is a radio host–not a hotline–and this boy doesn’t seem to understand that.
It’s the soft, rhythmic beats sounding through his headphones and the calming sips of coffee that keep Yoongi going from 2 to 5AM, using the number of songs played to measure time instead of a boring, analog clock. Every second of Yoongi’s life that ticks by chimes calm, and it’s this simple routine that keeps him sane. Up at 1PM, in his first class half an hour later, home from classes by 6PM, satisfying his adoring nuisances known as “friends” until 8PM, homework until 1AM, and ending his silent walk to the studio, warm coffee in hand, minutes before 2AM hits.
So to have this utter disturbance crashing down on his peace every night at 3:45AM is leaving scratches on Yoongi’s internal record player.
Aside from his ridiculous voice, proof that the boy hasn’t even tried to reach puberty yet, what riles Yoongi the most is the boy’s apparent inability to be tranquil. Yoongi plays soul-touching hip-hop and soothing R&B. This boy should be calling in hit bubblegum pop channels like the overexcited puppy he is.
Yoongi has always been a cat person, anyway.
Cats don’t talk in high-pitched voices that clearly aren’t suited for radio.
Cats don’t giggle two seconds into a phone call when Yoongi was most definitely not making a joke.
Cats don’t bother others at 3:45 in the morning by acting chipper than the literal sun.
And cats most certainly do not flirt with radio hosts over the phone while they’re working.
The flirting is simple, elementary school-level really. Every night the boy calls and gives Yoongi a ridiculous pick-up line, none of them funny, none of them ever going to work. No, not even “you’re hotter than the bottom of my laptop,” said with so much conviction on Monday night’s call.
To make matters worse, listeners like this boy. According to Yoongi’s boss, ratings for the early morning broadcast have increased by 20 percent, and for a broadcast starting at two in the morning, a 20 percent gain in audience is a tremendous deal. It’s almost as if people enjoy Yoongi’s suffering.
And everyone wonders why I face the world with a grimace, Yoongi thinks to himself.
Tonight, however, things are different. Or at least, that’s the feeling Yoongi gets the second he picks up the call at precisely 3:45 and hears the first pitch of the boy’s voice. It’s a little deeper, and Yoongi could have sworn he heard a quiet intake of breath--the kind of intake meant to calm nerves.
Ready to begin the conversation with the usual “Hey there, it’s Suga. You’re on the air. What song’s on your mind?” he uses to introduce every caller, Yoongi can’t even begin his sentence before he’s interrupted by--
“You look familiar, didn’t we take a class together? I could’ve sworn we had chemistry.”
Yoongi just couldn’t hold his sass back. He could not; he just couldn’t.
Okay, maybe he could have. Okay, he definitely could have. But this is Min Yoongi, and he’s suffered through such insolent and consistent phone calls for the past 25 days--and counting.
Besides, it’s not like Yoongi can get fired for sass, right?
“First of all, you can’t see me. It’s a radio show and you’re on the phone. Second of all, I don’t even take chemistry courses. And lastly, if you can swear we “had” chemistry, “had” being past tense and all, then we clearly must not have it anymore, so why do you keep calling?”
Yoongi didn’t exactly lie. As a psychology major, he doesn’t take chemistry courses--anymore.
The past 25 days of Yoongi’s show, just like his life, have followed a schedule. Four songs are played before the first caller is taken. After their request is played, it’s another 4 songs. The cycle repeats until 3:45AM, where no request is made and the call ends after ten seconds--five seconds for the boy to state his pick-up line, four seconds of silence, and one second for Yoongi to hang up.
Yoongi not following the schedule has shaken everything up in a way no one, not even Yoongi, expected.
Exactly ten seconds of silence lapse before someone speaks.
“Well, I’d like to see you, but it’s kind of difficult for that to happen when you keep hanging up on me.” A surprising response, but if Yoongi isn’t following his schedule, of course he can’t expect the boy to stick to his own script.
“Maybe if you didn’t call me while I’m working, then I wouldn’t hang up on you”
“Maybe if you didn’t hang up on me, I wouldn’t have to keep calling while you’re working.”
Who does this boy think he is? Yoongi is the only one allowed to be sassy and fight back. Everyone in Seoul (at least in Yoongi’s mind) knows that.
This boy must either be foreign, Yoongi thinks, or stupid.
“Are you always this insufferable?” He hopes the boy can hear Yoongi rubbing his temples in frustration through the phone.
“No, I’m actually quite adorable. You’d think so too if you finally went on a date with me.”
Well, Yoongi’s clearly ruined his schedule, and this boy doesn’t seem to want to follow the normal I-call-you-at-3-in-the-morning-for-five-seconds-before-you-hang-up protocol, so if this boy wants to fight, he’ll get a fight--by letting him win.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah. You want a date, right? I’m free tomorrow around noon. What do you say, Puppy?”
The boy takes so long to respond that Yoongi becomes worried he’ll hang up. “Finally!” eventually rings through the speakers of Yoongi’s studio. “I’ll pick you up from the front of the studio at noon, then.”
Yoongi’s only going on this date because he wants to continue the fight, but if he had to be completely honest, he is a bit intrigued at how adorable this boy really is. Yoongi may be a cat person, but there may also be a reason Yoongi has never actually owned one…
Cats just aren’t adorable enough.
“And by the way,” the boy adds, tone finally dropping to one of decency, “my name isn’t Puppy.”
This boy does have a name, right. Yoongi never cared enough to ask, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to know for tomorrow. “What is it then?”
“Jimin. Park Jimin.”
Hm, Yoongi thinks, mind suddenly flashing to the image of a pillow of black hair in the back of his sophomore Chemistry 302 class. Maybe I did have chemistry with him after all.
