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You will never understand Min Yoongi.
At least not fully.
You glance at the clock in your office. 12:07 pm. You blinked realizing you zoned out a full 30 minutes while at work. You sigh, closing your laptop and files.
You bent down to pick up your bag, preparing to head out for lunch when you caught a glimpse of the still foreign silver band on your finger.
“What’s this for?” You had asked him. He called you the night before at midnight saying he’s got something to say. “You could’ve given it tomorrow, Yoongi. I know you’re busy.” But still you accepted the velvet box he gave you.
“It’s fine. You know I can always make time, anyway.”
“Still…” You trailed off, opening the box, there it sits a simple silver band. You blink as you look up to him. “What—“
“Remember 10 years ago?…” he pauses, hands going to the back of his neck, a gesture he makes when he’s nervous or shy. Or just when he needs to touch something. “…When we made a deal that if by the time we’re 35–” He watches your reaction as you look down on the ring again.
“Oh.” You muttered.
Oh . You realized.
And, oh , you remember.
“–We said we’d get married if we still don’t have anyone by then.” He says. Watching you closely.
You blinked again because this might be something conjured by your dreams. But seconds passed, you’re still there. He’s still in front of you— patiently waiting.
Your hands trembled slightly then. “Is it today?”
“We’re both 35 now.” He says and your brows furrowed a bit.
“My birthday’s tomorrow—oh.” You paused. “Okay...Okay. Okay…” You repeatedly say as it finally sinks in.
You don’t see it but Yoongi watches you with a half-smile on his face.
You thought it’s just a silly promise you made 10 years ago, it’s today now?
“I thought, it was just something silly you thought of then.” You told him honestly
“You know I keep my promises.” You do know that…
“I know. It’s just…are you sure?”
“Well, do you have someone?” He asks as he shifts his posture and you laugh at his audacity and his confidence. You just shake your head.
“But Yoongi, this is marriage.” You told him. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince actually. Yourself or him.
“I know that. And you’re the one I talked to about this and promised.”
You breathe in a shaky inhale as it sinks into you.
“Did your mind not change? At all?”
“No way. Why would it?” He asks. You’d like to ask if he’s stupid. No —Min Yoongi is stupid.
You sigh. Placing the box down on the table. He follows it then looks back up again.
“Would I get mobbed once I agree to this?” You say, leaning your cheek on your palm, elbow resting on the table as you look at him.
“I’ll keep you safe.” You smile a bit at that.
“I might just become the most hated woman in the world.”
“I don’t think so. You’re very easy to love.” He says and you blink away the immediate sting that went to your eyes. He doesn’t say it like a compliment. He says it like a fact.
“Won’t you regret this?” You say, voice just weakening, just a bit, you think. You didn’t mean to.
“Never.” His certainty makes something in you ache.
“Why me? Yoongi— why. You’re literally an idol. You can have anyone you want. I don’t like that you’re settling because of a promise 10 years ago. You know I wouldn’t mind, you know I had probably forgotten.”
He smiles like he knows all the answer to your worries. Maybe he does. He reaches out. Holding your clenched fist, turning them so he can unravel it.
“But you remember it. Is there any other reason why you still don’t have anyone now?” He asks. Maybe you should ask if you can punch him, just once.
“And I’m not settling—I’m choosing you.”
You’ll never understand him. But you do know him.
Understanding and knowing—it’s quite difficult when it comes to him.
You know him in a way most people never will. It’s strange, sometimes, to watch the version of him that the world knows. Suga—the Min Yoongi under bright stage lights that point toward him like sunflowers, every movement deliberate, every word trimmed and polished until only the gleaming edges remain. He was made for that stage. He can set the world on fire with nothing more than his presence.
But the Min Yoongi you know is quieter. Less glimmering, but never less radiant. Stripped of the makeup, the designer clothes, the careful smiles. He’s not rehearsed with you. He’s not trying to be anything. He’s just… himself.
And you’ve learned that sometimes, in the middle of that public, polished brilliance, the real him slips through — an unguarded laugh, a glance too honest for the cameras. Those are the moments you think he’s at his most beautiful. Not the man the world worships, but the man you’ve always known.
The cafe you decided to go to for lunch is quiet. Tucked in a quiet street amidst the busy city. It’s spacious enough, the jazz music pleasant and there’s the quiet hush of people dining in.
You’re seated by the window, from across the street, is a poster of the very man you were just thinking of. You purse your lips to stop the funny smile about to come out of your face.
That man —you think—Min Yoongi is everywhere . Just thinking about how he had casually given you the ring last night ticks something in you— pisses you off, maybe?
Just thinking about the moment the word engage comes out of his mouth—the world would surely hunt you down.
I’ll keep you safe, he says.
You believe it though.
Just like how you believed he’d keep his promise after 10 years. You’d told him you had forgotten, he knew you didn’t.
He was right, you didn’t forget. But you thought it was only natural that he would change his mind. Doesn’t fame do that to people? — apparently, not Min Yoongi.
“Hey, Yoongi.” You call out. You were 25 then. You’re seated on the wooden floor of his studio. The balcony window open as you scan through the many papers he spread out. Inked in them are lyrics he’s written for the past months. You know about them, he tells you about them. But seeing the stacks of papers still leaves you in awe
“What?” He says, not stopping from picking up—then placing down the papers. Marking them and whatever it is.
“Have I ever told you how I think you’re really made for this?” You told him honestly, because you can.
He pauses, “Made for what?” He looks at you now.
You look at him. “For the stage. Being an idol. A writer. Whatever it is you are doing. You’re doing so good—great actually.”
He pauses now completely. Then looks away, his mouth wobbly because he’s stopping a smile from coming out—typical Min Yoongi fashion. “Well, am I?”
You roll your eyes because you know what it meant.
“It’s a compliment, you know. You’re so good at writing these but can’t say thanks? You’re welcome by the way.” You told him with a laugh in your voice.
Yoongi sits in silence as he looks at you contemplatively. He stands up then, squats beside you and wraps his arms around you.
“What now?” You say and laugh even more when he just embraces you tighter.
You almost topple over but you manage to hold yourself up and Yoongi. Your palms flat on the floor.
“You’re not exactly light, Min Yoongi.” You told him when he still hasn’t let go. But like a petty child he hugs and pushes you even move causing the both of you to fall over the floor. You let out an “Oof.” As you fell over.
He laughs as he finally lets go and looks at your mock-irritated face as he lays down beside you. Not caring about the scattered papers.
“Hey.” He calls after a few seconds of silence.
“What.” You say sharply.
“I’m just thinking—“
“You always are,” You interrupt but he just softly grasps your wrist with a laugh.
“—Listen. What if. Just what if, in 10 years, if we still don’t have anyone by then, should we just get married?” He says, hand around your wrist, thumb stroking your pulse absentmindedly.
“What?” You rose a bit from the floor to look at him. But he continues to stare straight into the ceiling. His touch felt warmer. You don’t know though if it’s you who’s warm, or his hand around your wrist, or maybe both.
“It’s just, I might not get married at all.” He says as he glances at you.
“Then don’t? It’s not like it’s a requirement?” You told him because you were genuinely confused.
“No but, I do want to experience it.”
“Getting married?”
“Yeah.”
You look at the balcony as you think. Lips pursed. “Well, you can do whatever you want, Yoongi. Does it have to be me though?” You ask.
He sits up looking at you. “Why not? Don’t you want to?”
You laugh at his face. “Why do you look so offended? I’m just asking. Many would be willing to do it.” You told him honestly.
“Exactly. Why not you though? I trust you the most.” He said it so sincerely your laugh fades with the wind. You sigh. You fold your knees up to your chest as you rest a cheek on your knees, looking at Yoongi.
“Thanks for saying that. I still don’t understand why you brought it up. Don’t you think your mind will change after 10 years?”
“Probably. It could. But it also might not—I'm good with promises, you know.” He says and you know it’s true. You can’t count how many times he’s kept his promise throughout the years of being friends with him. That's just how he is.
“Sure.” You told him.
“ Sure what? Do you agree with it?”
“Do we seal it with a kiss then?” You said jokingly.
“That’s cliche. Let’s pinky promise.” You laugh even more—
“That’s more cliche, don’t you think? Have some originality,” You slap his back but he’s already hooking his pinky finger with you. “—now you’re really just doing what you want.” But you hook your pinky with his.
“There.” He says. “You can’t back out now.”
“Yes, yes. I do.” You say shaking your joined pinkies in the air. “Where’s my ring?”
“In 10 years.” You let out another laugh. You think your cheeks are starting to hurt.
For a moment, your eyes met, and the world softened around you. The playfulness faded into something quieter, more tender—a promise held not just in words, but in the warmth of your touch.
You squeezed his pinky gently, and he met your gaze with something unspoken but understood. You might’ve actually kissed that day. You’re not sure. All you remember is warmth and the blur of it all.
You still think it’s something silly you both did but—It wasn’t just a joke anymore. 10 years later the ring sits on your finger. Simple, but gleaming every chance it gets as if teasing you.
He had told you it’s still just a promise ring — that he’d get you a proper engagement ring someday.
“That’s just to make sure you don’t back out on our agreement,” he said, like you would dare run away.
He’s ridiculous. You really don’t get him sometimes because where else were you suppose to go but him?
Min Yoongi is ridiculous.
You’re marrying him anyway.