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Nothing had even happened.
That was the whole truth.
It was after Yoongi’s tour had finally come to a close, after the seven of them had gotten together to get food post-concert, and after Yoongi went live. Whilst Yoongi and Seokjin were on their way home—eternal car-mates and all that—Yoongi had invited Seokjin upstairs. “It’s been a while, hyung. I haven’t seen you in months. And,” he added, sensing Seokjin’s protests, “you’ll be going back so soon.” Seokjin stared at Yoongi as well as he could in the darkness of their car. Yoongi’s not one for sentimentality, at least not at this level of soberness. It must have been the end of the tour that had gotten him all tender. Still, Yoongi really should have been sleeping at that moment; he must have been so exhausted.
Both of them knew this. Yet, Yoongi asked anyway.
“Hyung.” Yoongi raised an eyebrow and pouted. Seokjin looked away. God. Who taught him how to do that?
“Okay, okay, you big baby.” Seokjin says, around a chuckle. “But I know it’s because you have too much adrenaline that you don’t know how to deal with.” Yoongi didn’t respond and, when Seokjin turned back to him, he saw that the other had put his headphones back on top of his ears. Wow, what a rude guy.
He didn’t miss the pleasant smile on Yoongi’s face, even though he had turned to his side quickly to hide it. Ha! Seokjin is practically the fastest guy in his troop; no one can match his speed.
When they arrived at their residential area and exited the car, Yoongi still had his headphones on, so Seokjin was silently jolted when he felt a hand reach out to clasp around his. He didn’t say anything, just let Yoongi lead the way, as if Seokjin didn’t know his way around this block.
Still. Nothing had happened.
All they did was drink a bit, nothing much, just a few sips here and there. Seokjin had to meet his family the next day, anyway. Yoongi knew this. And, yet, when sleep started calling to Seokjin, and the hours of the next day crept closer and closer, and he decided that he should probably head to his own house and room and bed, Yoongi insisted. He kept insisting. I have a bed right there. You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing, hyung. What if on your way home, you start sleep-walking? You could end up going anywhere. You could walk on the road! It’s not responsible of me to let you do that, hyung. And, the thing is, when Yoongi started saying ridiculous things, Seokjin had no willpower to leave it like that. How could he deny absurd statements? It flowed in his blood.
He guessed it was not worth it, not really, to go to his apartment 5 minutes away. Yoongi was right; he could have genuinely died. Who's to say?
—
On an achingly familiar mattress, Seokjin wakes up alone. The mattress underneath him is warm and inviting, and his internal body clock tells him that it’s perhaps the tail end of 6am, and if it was any other day, any other place, any other moment in time, maybe he would try to go back to sleep; but, as it is, Seokjin breaks out in cold sweat. He takes a moment to lie there in silence, trying to hear noises from the kitchen or the living room. Nothing. He kicks the blanket off of him in a huff. The empty side next to him lays cluttered and messy, the blanket thrown across chaotically, as if this wasn’t the culprit’s own bed, as if he was eager to get away as fast as he could. Get away from this mess.
What a mess.
Where could Yoongi be right now? Why was he even awake? He should have been in deep sleep, draining out all the exhaustion he must have had from headlining an almost 4-month long tour. Seokjin can’t imagine it; if it were him, he would be dead to the world for at least a week. And, anyways, Yoongi definitely fell asleep—Seokjin saw it happen. So why did he wake up after such few hours?
Seokjin’s plan was to leave as soon as he woke up. Now what was he to do? Yes, it would have been rude to leave when Yoongi was still asleep, though Seokjin did mention last night that he had to meet his family during his short break from the army—but it would be ruder, still, to leave when no one was at home at all. He should probably wait for Yoongi to come back. Would he come back?
Seokjin closes his eyes, and breathes out a weary sigh. He’s getting too old for this. He’s practically in his late thirties at this point, a sergeant, an army man. He shouldn’t be doing things like this; his heart can barely take it.
Last night was… He lets out a frustrated groan. He gets up and marches to the toilet, annoyed. Should he just leave? This wasn’t a sleepover or a slumber party. They weren’t six year olds or childhood best friends. They were grown men and Seokjin had just slept over for convenience. That’s really all it was.
As he stares into the mirror, a tired, ragged, old man stares back. He looks beaten down, afraid. Hopeless. This was ridiculous. Nothing even happened, right? He was starting to get a headache. He brushes his teeth with his fingers because, though Yoongi definitely has spare toothbrushes, he didn’t offer any to him last night. Didn’t walk into the two guest bedrooms and adjacent bathrooms at all, as if they didn’t exist. As if his apartment had only the sole room and the sole bed, and there was no other place for Seokjin to lay his body down last night, save for the one.
Seokjin didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for anything beyond what was freely given. Maybe he should have. Maybe Yoongi would still be here if he did.
God! Where could that small mouse man have even gone? This was his house, for god’s sake! Seokjin should have been the one to leave. Well, if he had such important post-concert business that he couldn’t even shake his hyung awake to say bye, then maybe Seokjin should do something just as annoying. It’s only fair. He’ll steal his bread to eat, maybe take an apple or two. He deserves a good breakfast, after all; he’s had a long, long morning.
—
It’s 8:15am. By this time, Seokjin was meant to have still been sleeping in his own bed. What he shouldn’t be doing is sitting on the olive green couch, alone, in Min Yoongi’s living room. He can’t for the life of him figure out what’s keeping him here in this gremlin’s house. He should really, really leave. He’s eaten his makeshift breakfast, he’s had a hot shower—hell, he’s practically been living as the sole resident of this apartment! And, still, that man was nowhere to be found.
He could call him. He probably should. Why wasn’t he calling him?
He closes his eyes and leans back against the couch. He lets out another sigh. It feels as though his body is filled with sighs and sighs waiting for their turn to be released. A sigh-ful man, that’s what people would say if they saw him.
Why did he leave? Was last night that bad that he had to escape his own bed, his own room, his own house? So bad that he left Seokjin all alone. He was the one who wanted Seokjin to stay. Why didn’t he stay?
Eyes shut, he allows himself to think about last night. About how once they were in bed, teeth brushed and showers taken, Yoongi had turned on his side, facing him. Staring with those eyes.
It reminded him of a time long, long ago.
"You really missed me this time, huh?" Seokjin had copied his position, arms underneath his head, knees almost touching Yoongi's.
"No. You were right, earlier, when you said I just needed company to help me wind down." Yoongi grinned. "Why would I miss you?"
"Sure." Seokjin nods sagely as he let himself relax into the bed, his mouth stretching into a soft smile. "You really did great today. Min Yoongi, our solo rockstar."
"I missed you guys. It's not the same performing without all of you."
"So you did miss me?" Instead of responding, Yoongi did that thing. The staring and not much else. If it were any of the other members, Seokjin might have just pinched him then and there. He's the hyung, they should respond to him! Seokjin remembers feeling his chest heave up—the silence too strong and the room too cold.
The day Seokjin had met Yoongi for the first time, Yoongi should have come with a manual. This guy loves to nerve people. He stares—a lot. Just ignore it, and you should be fine. Maybe if he had this manual, he'd know what to do with his face, his hands, his breathing. As it was, he stayed in the same position, staring back. What else could he do, in the face of this boy?
If only his mind wouldn't bring him back to the treacherous thoughts of the past, memories flying in of hidden-moments and almost-makeouts. Treacherous thoughts of the present, two boys in bed, facing each-other; Seokjin reaching a hand out to gently place on Yoongi's cheek. Feeling like he was about to do something stupid.
Yoongi, looking afraid. Then: "Let's not, hyung. Let's just sleep for now."
—
(Seokjin tries not to think of this very often, but, instead, as if he’s been hexed by a witch to constantly yearn and remember, very, very often, a memory pops up in his head. A kiss, when they were both younger. Before they even debuted; a simple thing of the past. They had been talking together on the balcony of their first dorm. They rarely had any privacy, and the moment felt noteworthy. A quiet time, shared by the eldest of the bunch, to wind back and relax, if only for a few minutes or so. It felt earned and badly, badly needed.
He remembers: Yoongi, with his eyes trained on Seokjin’s face. A small smile, faint and fond. He remembers: cracking jokes that held no weight. Talking about nothing and everything. Yoongi’s gaze never straying. He remembers: the added confidence from the soju they snuck in—(hidden from their manager hyungs’ vigilant looks)—their choice of comfort after a long, exhausting day where the both of them got berated twice in dance practice, and everything had felt tough and not worth it.
He aches and he aches as he remembers being wrapped in warmth. Soft, petal lips; a tightly-clasped hand in his hair. A few moments of peace. Then—two yawns and a mutual decision to sleep during the only hours they really could. But, once he was in bed, he realised it was a cruel joke that he thought he’d be able to sleep for even a second. He stayed rooted in one position the whole night, stubborn, lest he roll over to see Yoongi’s face and do something crazy like crawl into his bed and hug him.
The next morning had been a normal one: hectic and impossible for one to breathe, everything happening simultaneously. One person in the kitchen making coffee, one person walking around whilst brushing his teeth, one person haphazardly finishing his homework on the table. No one truly awakened, not really, but this was the life that they had all fought for and loved.
What he remembers: a kiss that they decided not to revisit. A kiss, long forgotten.)
—
In the end, it’s 8:46am when Seokjin decides to leave. He doesn't even feel like going anywhere anymore, he just wants to head back to his own bed and sleep the day away. But, just as he slips off Yoongi’s house slippers and slides on his shoes, there’s a beep.
He has to applaud Yoongi's timing.
As the door opens, Seokjin catches a glimpse of yellows and pinks before it vanishes quickly behind the back of the man he's been thinking about for two straight hours and two straight days. "You're awake, hyung!" Yoong says, alarmed, then shakes his head. "I should have known you'd be awake, what with the army timing and sleep routine. But I thought you'd sleep in seeing as it's your bre—are you going already?" He frowns, lines appearing on his forehead. He shuffles indoors, preventing Seokjin from leaving. Behind him, he's holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery bag. "What happened, hyung? You look like you're going to puke." He walks towards the kitchen and places the flowers and the bag down on the shelf near the door. He looks calm, but Seokjin knows him too well; his eyebrows are still furrowed and his back is rigid straight. He clearly didn't expect Seokjin to be awake.
"I have to go meet my family. I told you yesterday."
"Right." Yoongi says from the kitchen, taking out the contents from his bag. Out comes eggs and scallions and vegetable oil. "I thought it would be a bit later. At lunch-time or something." He still has his back towards him. "I was thinking of making kimchi jeon and gyeran bokkeumbap. Does that sound good?"
"I've eaten."
"Oh." He finally turns to look his way. He looks the way he did last night: afraid and lost, like a little kid who couldn't find his parents. Seokjin hates himself for putting that expression on his face and he hates himself for ruining their night and he hates himself for not leaving earlier than Yoongi did. He could have avoided all of this mess. "Did... Are you upset with me, hyung?"
He takes the easy route. "Why would I be upset with you?" Honestly, he's not so sure himself. Clearly Yoongi just wants to forget whatever happened—or didn't happen—last night and is acting as normal as can be. Yeah, maybe he was gone for two whole hours, and maybe that's really far too much time to just go to the store to buy some house groceries and some house flowers but, understandably, he thought Seokjin was still asleep. Seokjin can feel himself physically deflate like some sad balloon. He can't really blame Yoongi, can he? If he didn't want to kiss Seokjin, that's okay. Lots of people didn't want to kiss Seokjin and Seokjin is fine with that. Not every one had to be attracted to him. It's really all quite silly.
Yoongi's eyes shift towards the abandoned flowers then reroute to Seokjin's face. Why was he always staring! His heart couldn't take it anymore; Seokjin looks away. "Why were you leaving so early?" Seokjin doesn't reply, or rather, can't reply. Doesn't really want to say, because I didn't want to deal with the aftermath of you rejecting me last night. Or, because I was afraid you'd pretend it never happened and I'd feel like a fool.
Or, I was leaving early but I could have left even earlier. I wanted to stay so that you'd come back and tell me that whatever happened last night was a mistake, but not in a mistake the way you think it might be, but rather in the way that I should have let you kiss me and I should have kissed you back. That maybe we should have never let all those years pass and we should have never let it go. Because, after all, isn't that why Seokjin stayed fixed to Yoongi's apartment, even when Yoongi was gone? Because there was still a little wretched hope gnarled inside of him, hope that maybe Min Yoongi was on the same page as him at the end of the day.
Yoongi looks and looks and looks at him and, god, Seokjin is helpless. Finally, Yoongi heaves a heavy sigh and walks towards the couch. He takes a seat. Seokjin, seeing the sign for what it is, takes a seat next to him. "I freaked out. That's why I was gone for so long. I mean. I don't know what time you woke up, but. I couldn't actually sleep last night. I..." Another deep breath. "I didn't want to do it that way, hyung. Drunk. Tired. I've, hah, I've thought about this for so, so many years now. How to do it the best way possible." Seokjin's heart starts racing. Slow down, he wants to voice, what are you even saying? Yoongi shifts towards him and all Seokjin can think about is Yoongi in bed last night, Yoongi of so many years back, always facing him, always peeking. "I didn't want to mess it up again. Not like last time. I wanted.... I wanted us awake and sober and fully aware. Don't we deserve that, hyung, after all these years?"
Yoongi reaches out a hand, slowly, until he reaches his destination, his thumb resting on Seokjin's lips. He smoothes them out; Seokjin hadn't even realised that he was biting them. "I wanted to make you breakfast in bed and then give you flowers and then, finally, finally, kiss you. Properly this time. Don't you see?" His thumb moves again, this time to the corner of his left eye, collecting a stray tear-drop.
"Since when have you been such a romantic? And on such little sleep?"
Yoongi smiles; a simple thing, really. "After buying the stuff, I sat in my car for, like, 40 minutes. I couldn't go upstairs. I was so scared I was going to mess this up." His eyes soften a little. "Have I?"
"Hmm?"
"Messed it up?"
Another brush of his thumb. His arm must hurt from holding his hand up for so long, but he doesn't seem like he minds.
"I thought you wanted to leave it in the past. That you were rejecting me." Yoongi's eyes widen, but Seokjin resumes talking before he can say anything. "And I thought, okay, it's fine, I'll just leave him alone. I'll leave early tomorrow morning and hopefully I'll get distracted by the military and you will, I don't know, forget it even happened in the first place."
"In hindsight, maybe I should have phrased it better." Seokjin lets out a snort. "So you were just going to leave?"
"I thought about it for more than an hour."
"Hmm." Yoongi inches closer. "But you stayed anyway."
"I guess I did. Isn't your arm hurting?"
"Not really, hyung." Seokjin briefly catches a grin on the other's face before he's suddenly pulled towards him. Yoongi's hand has crept up, up, up, until he's tightly grasping Seokjin's hair. Seokjin blinks and he has a face full of Yoongi before he feels that warmth from so long ago, the one he missed so desperately, so devastatingly, again and again. His mouth is velvety and tastes like home and is everything Seokjin remembers it to be. A kiss here, a kiss there.
"Yoongi-yah," Seokjin says, soundlessly.
"Hyung," Yoongi replies, his voice tender and full of awe and contentedness.
They smile at each other. Yoongi stares at him; Seokjin lets himself stares back.
Maybe they do deserve this, after all.
—
...
...
...
(In all the buzz, It’s not till the next night that Yoongi allowed himself to think about their kiss on the balcony again. Seokjin hadn't even mentioned it once that next day. Well, neither had Yoongi, but. That’s beside the point. Two days had passed, three, four. Yoongi couldn't take it. He wasn't getting any sleep. He would lay in bed all night, fingertips aching to wrap around a pencil, to write and write and write. He hadn’t allowed himself to. That would be absolutely incriminating; imagine if someone found it. What would he have to say for himself. He just had to go and get a crush on his future bandmate. The country would point and laugh at him, look at this fool. How irresponsible was he. No, it’s better off staying far away, locked in some dusty, untouched crevice of his mind. He shouldn’t even be considering this. It’s crazy.
He’s going to burst.
He hadn’t stared at Seokjin in a week, and the boys had started to notice.
“Are you fighting with Seokjin hyung?” Jeongguk had asked. The two of them had gone off to eat a 5-minute meal of tteokbokki. Jeongguk's eyes had already started watering at the thought.
Namjoon had invited him to brainstorm lyrics with him at the studio, but as soon as they got there, he spent 40 minutes talking about how much he respected both his hyungs, don’t get it wrong, but it’s just that Seokjin hyung was really going through a lot: he’s managing university work at the same time, hyung, you have to give him slack. I know it’s easy to lose our patience with each-other, but, really, hyung, Seokjin hyung is working so hard. I know, I know, I bleed all these words, too, Yoongi wanted to scream, he’s good, he’s always been this good. But, instead, he patted Namjoon’s head. Hyung will sort it out, don’t you worry.
He found Seokjin outside their building, about to make the walk back to their dorm. When Seokjin noticed him, he gave a small body-sigh. Even from seven feet away, Yoongi could track the up-and-down of his shoulders, the way he was worrying his lip, all the way to his eyes as they closed for one, two beats, then opened again, smiling softly. Yoongi-yah, he murmured, you’ve come to walk your hyung back home?
They talked, and they agreed: better to forget it ever happened. It’s okay. Their chosen life is a busy one, a complicated one.
Their kiss was nice. No doubt it was nice. But, it’s wise to just… abandon this route. Ignore any emotions.
Just... let it go.
After all, they were going to be famous—no matter what, it would happen, and they surely couldn't jeopardise that. After all, it's not like he's in love with Kim Seokjin or something.
After all, Yoongi's sure that if he gives it a few months or so, he'd move on. Surely.)