Archive of Our Own

His new neighborhood’s indoor pool was nothing like the pool of Yoongi’s youth. That one had been about five lanes long under a roof that collapsed one winter under the weight of a blizzard. But this pool hall felt like its own city.

There were in fact two pools under the wide sloped roof: one was huge and sleek, twice the size of the pool Yoongi was sent to in high school. It was so large the water looked calm even with the fifteen or so people swimming laps. Each lane looked wide enough to swallow Yoongi whole. 

A second pool was marked by a blocky structure of diving boards. The highest of them looked about as tall as a five-story apartment building.

Upon entering the pavilion, Yoongi felt very small indeed, even at the age of thirty. He did not belong here, not at all.

Echoes of splashes and the muted slap of pool slides rattled off the brick walls, and the warm air clogged up Yoongi’s pores and lungs. He made himself relax his grip on the towel he had brought with him and trod over to hang it up near the door he entered through, reminding himself that everyone here was as naked as he is. And everyone, he checked, was wearing their swimming caps. 

The last time he swam may well have been in high school. He had spent some time by outdoor pools and at the beach, but rarely went into the water. And actually swimming laps was something he was going to have to remember how to do, as he had barely learned in the first place during a few mandatory school terms when he was fourteen.

Four months had now passed since his surgery, and although he was never the sportiest of people, Yoongi was of the opinion that six weeks in a sling and months of painstakingly slow physical therapy would drive anyone to extremes. He was also tentatively excited about this new phase of his recovery — or he had been before he entered the dauntingly large enclosure wearing little more than pool slides and swim shorts. But Yoongi’s shoulder had hurt him for almost half of his life; no matter what he did, he always had to favor his left arm. Now that he had finally gone ahead with surgery, he was curious about what he may be able to do if he set his mind to it.

His physical therapist had recommended yoga and swimming. Ideally swimming. So here Yoongi was, on a whim. Ready to swim.

The size of this pool hall seemed excessive for someone just here to try it out, but it was one his physiotherapist had vouchers for, and it actually wasn’t too far from Yoongi’s own home. He had searched for pictures of the place on Naver before coming, because he had anxiety, but pictures had not done the place justice. A fish-eye lens could make any place look too big. This place was worse than too big.

But a plus-side to the place’s size was that no one looked at him twice, the ecosystem too large to preoccupy itself with a new arrival.

Miraculously, Yoongi found a lane with only one other man in it, and, after bracing himself, he slipped into the water. It was warm and accepted him readily – a feeling he hadn’t really been able to imagine beforehand, just as it was hard to imagine the weather outside when you weren’t in it. His first, immediate thought was that he didn’t like it: even though the water was warm, he was incredibly uncomfortable, enveloped from all angles by what felt like jello, forced to wear a tight hat and goggles that made him look like a beetle.

But, he had made it into the water after all. Today Yoongi would be taking it easy. This was his reunion with water. If ten lengths (maybe five) were all he could manage, then so be it.

He managed two lengths in front crawl, and struggled with breathing. He wasn’t sure if his shoulder was pinging or if he was just imagining it as he transitioned to what he remembered of backstroke. Then he took a break at the edge of the pool, catching his breath and massaging his shoulder nervously. Had he pushed it too hard already? The pool looked large from the outside and it felt long when he was swimming across it.

As he worried, his eyes wandered towards the diving boards, and to his surprise, he actually saw someone at the foot of them.

Yoongi was far enough away that he didn’t feel shy about watching a slender man with wide shoulders begin to climb the structure. Yoongi himself couldn’t imagine jumping off any of the boards, and was curious about what kind of person would do such a thing. 

The man reached the top board and approached the edge of the board. He stood for a moment looking at the water below – probably questioning his life decisions and choices. He stood for so long, Yoongi started to worry if he himself was being too obvious, clinging onto the side of the pool waiting for the jump.

And then, the man walked back. Fair enough, Yoongi thought, ready to begin another tentative lap, but he stopped when the man bounded forward, jumped on the edge of the board, which folded under his weight, into the air, so high Yoongi found himself worried for the ceiling, as high as it was– 

The man landed back onto the board, and launched himself off of it and over the edge. This time, he got high enough to do what looked to be an actual flip, before stretching out into an arrow that shot straight down into the water, feet first.

Yoongi’s heart contracted when the diver hit the pool, but the splash was quiet and tidy. A few moments later, the water was so still you couldn’t imagine someone had just landed in it.

When the man reappeared from under the water, alive, Yoongi let out a baffled laugh in spite of himself.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Yoongi jumped and looked to his left, where his lane partner was perched on the side of the pool, goggles pushed up onto his forehead. He was gazing across the pool, where the diver was climbing out of the water. Yoongi’s own mouth was still hanging open, even in spite of his lane partner.

“Scary,” Yoongi managed. His lane partner had quite the face – tan, strong jawline – even with his head wrapped in an unflattering green swimming cap.

“Terrifying,” his lane partner agreed wholeheartedly.

Out of the pool, the diver was shaking out his arms but otherwise looked nonplussed. A man in a pale yellow t-shirt was waiting for him out of the pool, arms folded across his chest, looking serious.

Yoongi nodded his goodbye to his lane partner and continued swimming.

Although the actual act of swimming didn’t get any more pleasant, Yoongi went swimming three more times – the day after his first swim, he had appreciated the way it worked out his whole body, and wanted to give it a fair chance. He now had a tentative swim routine given to him by his physiotherapist, and had his heart set on at least fulfilling the one-month membership he’d purchased with his voucher. 

He saw the diver again the third time.

First, the diver swam lengths in the same pool Yoongi used, a few lanes to his right. Then, he went over to the diving pool, where he used the smaller diving board for what looked like warm ups, doing simple dives. No flips or ceremony, just quiet falls. Less like an arrow flung downwards and more like a raindrop. Not that Yoongi watched him, much.

The diver was in the changing rooms when Yoongi got out of the shower. His bare back was to the door, but Yoongi was at once certain that it was him. Those shoulders could not belong to anyone else— forget the pool, Yoongi didn’t think another person in the whole of Seoul had this body. Maybe even Korea.

The diver was drying his hair with a pink towel, dressed in loose heather-gray pants strung to his waist — a waist Yoongi would also list as unique among thousands. The diver beat Yoongi to the showers, it seemed.

Because they were the only two in the changing rooms, Yoongi was unsure of how to proceed.

“Hey,” he found himself saying. He was barely audible, voice half-caught in his throat, but the diver heard him.

He straightened and looked over his shoulder, offering an equally quiet, “Hey,” in return.

Okay. Yoongi could proceed.

Yoongi kept to himself as he dried off and put on underwear. Nakedness was a part of changing rooms and didn’t bother him most of the time, but things felt different alone with the diver and his wide back.

When Yoongi was able to face the room, pulling on pants, the diver was sitting on one of the benches, tying his shoe laces. Yoongi zipped up his pants and reached for his shirt. Only when he was sufficiently covered, could he say,

“It’s impressive, what you can do.”

The diver looked up, and oh. He happened to be gorgeous all over.

“Pardon?” the diver asked, not unkindly, his dark eyebrows raised.

“Your diving.” Yoongi laughed nervously. He had just been making small talk, for some reason. He hadn’t been aware he was making it with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. “It’s impressive. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Oh,” the diver said. “Thank you.” He flashed a smile, plump lips framing the prettiest teeth, and shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose falling from so high is something of a talent.”

“You’re not falling,” Yoongi scoffed. “But… you know that.”

The diver smiled again, this time a close-lipped one. Yoongi couldn’t decide which was lovelier.

Quiet fell once more, and Yoongi realized his own hair was still dripping wet. He could feel it soaking into the collar of his t-shirt, which meant he must look like a drowned cat. He hadn’t thought through getting dressed very well. 

He turned back towards his bag and covered his head with his towel. He could hide here until the diver left…

“You’re new around here, right?” 

Yoongi stopped rubbing his hair dry, and lowered his towel, clutching it to his chest as something of a shield. The diver was now standing in the center of the small room, his bag thrown over his shoulder, a beanie pulled over his half-dry hair. He was tall. How could he arrange his limbs into those complicated flips he did? Not that he landed them perfectly everytime. Today, Yoongi witnessed what his untrained eye believed to be a blunder: the diver entered the water a less-than-straight arrow, and the sound had been quite violent to Yoongi’s ears. In fact, the diver had sat outside of the pool with Yoongi’s first day lane-partner, the one with the green hat, for the rest of his time. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the diver clarified.

He had noticed him. Yoongi preened at the idea, even if part of him wondered if he had been too obvious today when he’d stopped swimming once again to watch him dive. Or maybe his first day lane-partner had pointed him out, seeing as they seemed to get along.

“It’s a pretty small bunch of us that come here in this timeslot,” the diver added.

“Yeah,” Yoongi made himself reply. “I’m new. Here for rehab, my physio suggested it… My shoulder… the labum was torn…” he trailed off, not wanting to overshare and unsure of why he’d shared so much to begin with.

But the diver was politely sympathetic. “Oh, ouch. That sounds painful, I’m sorry. Is swimming helping?”

Yoongi had been wondering the same thing. Although he appreciated the work out, he was spiritually gritting his teeth through his laps, and rarely made it past twenty minutes in the water. 

“I think so… I feel like I’m still warming up. I’m really not used to swimming. But I wanted to try it before I tried yoga, I don’t know. I guess I thought, why not?” Why was he such a chatterbox today?

“I’d say you made the right choice,” the diver smiled before heading for the door. “Well, I hope you notice an improvement soon.” 

“Thank you,” Yoongi said after him. 

The diver turned back in the doorway and grinned.

“See you around.”

Yoongi nodded, acknowledging the butterflies in his belly. “Yeah, see you.”

As soon as the door closed behind the diver, Yoongi put his face in his towel and breathed.

The next time Yoongi swam, the diver found him in the pool.

“Hey,” the diver said from the next lane. His swimming cap was bright pink, and his goggles were small, the Swedish style. He could really pull them off.

Yoongi found himself pushing up his own black goggles to greet him.

“Hey,” Yoongi replied, drying his face with his hand, trying not to pant too hard. He had finished his fourth backstroke, which was supposed to help him regain his breath, but he had been focusing too hard on swimming in a straight line and keeping his head afloat to really enjoy breathing.

“Do you mind if I give you a tip?” the diver asked. “Feel free to say no.”

“Oh,” Yoongi said, not sure if he should feel embarrassed, insulted or grateful. The diver was speaking to him, so he was tentatively grateful… for now. It wasn’t like he couldn’t use the help. His physiotherapist had suggested he sign up for a swim class to have more structure and to workshop his form, but Yoongi shuddered at the thought. Confronted with a handsome diver, however, he acquiesced. “Sure.”

The diver smiled, and no one should look so handsome in goggles and a swim cap. He could model for swimwear.

“Kim Seokjin, by the way,” he said.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi nodded. Something about introducing himself half naked and in a pool full of strangers made him feel like an easily embarrassed teenager again. 

“A pleasure,” Seokjin grinned, and began explaining how to move your arms during the backstroke. This involved raising your hand out of the water thumb-first, and dropping it back into the water pinky-first. Above water, your arm rested, but under the water was where you had to put the real work in. And if Yoongi was having a hard time breathing, he could practice floating on his back. Yoongi would rather not, and was beginning to regret accepting guidance. Not that Seokjin wasn’t being kind – he just didn’t relish having to copy Seokjin’s demonstrations under Seokjin’s watchful eye. Watching Seokjin’s toned arms rise and fall into the water up close was some kind of torture, and when Yoongi had to swim a length with what he’d learned, he felt incredibly exposed and inadequate. But Seokjin was supportive when he met him at the other end.

“That looks better, Yoongi-ssi!” Seokjin told him with a big smile, which made Yoongi vaguely wonder how closely Seokjin had been watching him before approaching him. Or maybe Yoongi had been making such a huge fool out of himself Seokjin hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming over to help. As if reading his mind, Seokjin added, “Not that you were doing bad before! I just remembered what you said the other day, about being new to swimming, and I thought I could help you enjoy it a bit more.” Well, Seokjin talking to him was definitely enjoyable in some regards. “Did it feel better?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi grumbled, reluctant to give Seokjin his thanks too soon. “I’ll have to try a few more times.”

“Fair. After a while, it will become second nature! How does your shoulder feel?”

Yoongi was begrudgingly touched that Seokjin remembered his shoulder. “I think it’s doing okay.”

“With an injury you have to remember to listen to your body,” Seokjin told him seriously. “If something doesn’t feel right, slow to a stop, no shame in it. Your health and safety is what’s important.”

Yoongi was a little bit surprised by the sudden speech. The man dived and he was talking about Yoongi’s health and safety.

“I tore a ligament in my knee once,” Seokjin offered up, matter-of-factly. “Ugly business. Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Or out of your cap.” He laughed and it was so disarmingly charming that Yoongi wanted to dive underwater and never come back up. “Thank you for indulging me, Yoongi-ssi.”

“No problem.” Yoongi shook his head. “I mean, thanks.”

“Anything else you need, here I am. Crawl, backstroke, breaststroke. I’m no expert on the swimming side of things, but I can offer a few tips.”

Yoongi blinked at him, tongue-tied.

“Thank you, Seokjin-ssi,” he managed.

Seokjin smiled at him. “No problem. Anyway, it’s time for the boards.” 

Yoongi realized they were on the side of the pool closer to the diving pool, but he wasn’t expecting Seokjin to suddenly pull himself out of the water. His mouth went dry as Seokjin’s bare arms and back worked to pull him up, and he was forced to watch Seokjin’s torso twist as he turned to sit on the side of the pool, chest smooth and glistening, rivulets rolling down his skin. Seokjin pulled his goggles down around his neck before winking at him and getting to his feet. 

Now Yoongi had to look away. Watching Seokjin’s toned legs from this angle this close would just be unbecoming. And yet, Seokjin called for his attention one last time.

“See you around,” Seokjin said, towering over Yoongi in his tight pink swimshorts. What?

All Yoongi could do was nod and start a front crawl away. After that, he only lasted three more laps. As he left the water, he saw Seokjin falling from the highest board. The splash echoed around the pool. Yoongi waited for Seokjin to surface before leaving.

Yoongi started to look forward to his pool days.

Not that swimming particularly excited him. He found it too mechanical, too boring. He hated feeling out of breath and getting water in his eyes and the smell of chlorine and being wet. But something kept drawing him back to the water.

He didn’t go as far as to copy Seokjin’s schedule, but he did know he tended to be at the pool on Wednesdays from six PM. And any extra motivation to leave his home office and get exercise… Well, he might as well take it.

Seokjin asked him out on a Wednesday. In the pool, he gave Yoongi crawl advice, and in the changing rooms, they dressed in comfortable silence before Seokjin asked,

“Hey, are you doing anything? Now, I mean. I have a thing at nine but time to kill before that. Is it weird I asked?”

Yoongi blinked at him.

“No,” he said, painfully aware of the butterflies in his stomach. “I’m free. But I’m kind of hungry.”

“We can grab a snack!” Seokjin said excitedly. Then, seeming to calm himself, he added in a more even tone, “I know a place near here.”

On previous pool visits, Yoongi had never worried about his outside clothes since he rarely coincided with Seokjin when he was dressed — he was more concerned about the naked part of it. Now, he scanned his current outfit, wondering if it was appropriate for anywhere other than the train home. Loose dark bottoms and socks in slides paired with a puffer coat and a disastrously old hoodie. Meanwhile, Seokjin was wearing jeans for the first time Yoongi could remember, and a nice-looking stonegray turtleneck. Yoongi felt betrayed. But how exactly was he meant to refuse?

Seokjin pulled on his beanie and distractingly white puffer jacket, Yoongi his snapback, and they headed out into the February air together.

It was weird spending time together outside of the pool. Both fully dressed, somewhere dry. To Yoongi this café, which served baked goods, felt thrilling. The world expanded in all directions, several pools long. The possibilities seemed endless.

From the menu they both wanted focaccia sandwiches, so Yoongi suggested they get two different ones so they could try both. He was then afraid it was too date-y a suggestion, but Seokjin accepted his proposal readily. They ordered one with mozarella and tomato, another with salmon and cream cheese.

Although they could talk about anything now that they were away from the constraints of the pool, Yoongi asked Seokjin about diving once they were seated. He had noticed that a small blond man was usually with Seokjin in the pool these days, dressed in a t-shirt and swim trunks. Yoongi’s theory was that he was a coach of some sort. Seokjin confirmed it.

“That’s Jimin, my diving coach. I compete, and there’s a competition coming up in the spring,” Seokjin said, sipping on his hot chocolate. “I don’t usually place, but it gives me something to work towards.”

“How can you not place?” Yoongi asked sincerely. “You’re incredible.”

“How much do you know about diving?” Seokjin laughed, but Yoongi thought he detected a faint blush. “I’m alright, it’s true,” Seokjin acquiesced. “But there are some good divers out there who take it much more seriously than I do.”

“You don’t take it seriously?”

“I just like it.” Seokjin shrugged. “That’s all. That’s why I do it.”

“What do you like about it?” Yoongi was genuinely curious. It seemed dangerous, and Seokjin looked so laidback here, now. In fact, during every interaction they had, he’d seemed easygoing. If Yoongi had met him outside the pool, he’d never have guessed the guy enjoyed flinging himself from great heights into deep water.

Seokjin shrugged. “It’s straightforward. Something that seems so hard to do, but is as easy as falling.”

Yoongi shook his head. “There you go again with the falling,” he said. “I don’t believe it’s that easy.”

In fact, he knew it wasn’t. He’d been down a few diving rabbit holes after their second encounter, and after reading a few articles, he was now suggested YouTube reels of people from all over the world explaining the do’s and don’ts of ‘falling’. It was, of course, incredibly dangerous; Yoongi had always understood diving to mean entering the water hands-first, but high diving involved such speeds that it was too risky to enter the water any way other than feet first. 

“It’s really nothing special,” Seokjin nevertheless insisted. The corners of his lips quirked before he said, “I can show you sometime, if you like.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but lean back in his chair, away from the suggestion.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, trying not to sound too horrified.

“We’d clear it with your physiotherapist first, of course,” Seokjin grinned, with another sip of his drink.

Is he flirting? Yoongi wondered, not wanting to focus on the way Seokjin licked his plump lips. If diving off one of the boards of the far pool was a requisite to get further into Seokjin’s good graces, however, he wasn’t sure he was interested.

(Who was he kidding? He was a little interested.)

(Maybe he could survive the smaller board.)

Seokjin proceeded to ask Yoongi questions about himself, and Yoongi shared that he injured his shoulder as a delivery boy in his youth, and what he did for a living.

Yoongi was lucky enough to say his writing paid his bills, and not without a sense of pride. He wrote opinion pieces for different magazines and newspapers, mostly to do with society and culture, with some politics. He had also published a collection of short stories two years ago that had begun to take off on social media a few months prior to his surgery. In fact, it was thanks to that collection that he was able to finally afford the surgery in the first place.

What he liked about his job was that he was able to do a little bit of everything, and evolve as he did. His angry blog posts as a young adult were nothing like the meditations he published these days. Nor were they like the book he was currently researching for, which, without giving too much away, was about a lonely child who found refuge in his high school music class.

“Whoa,” Seokjin said when he had finished. “You’re a brainy guy.”

Yoongi laughed, suddenly bashful. “I guess I am.”

“I’m curious now. I’ll have to read your writing.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Tonight I’ll look you up. Unless there’s a piece you’d recommend to me. Why don’t you send me your favorite piece. I’ll first admit that I’m not a huge reader—“

“I’ll try to think of something,” Yoongi promised.

Seokjin’s mouth wound into a pleased little smile, his shoulders pulling back slightly.

“If you’re a writer, then I bet swimming is doubly good for you. Don’t you find that swimming helps you think? It helps me,” Seokjin clarified. “Or rather, it helps clear my head. Swimming helps me to just sort of think of… nothing. And then suddenly one important thought will click, mid-swim, and I’ll be surprised, like, Ah, why didn’t I think of it that way before?” He hit his own forehead as he said this, before concluding, “It’s one of the best feelings. Even if it’s just figuring out what I’ll have for dinner, or a strategy in a videogame I could try.”

“You really do like swimming,” Yoongi marvelled at Seokjin’s bright eyes and wistful expression. As soon as he said this, however, Seokjin shrugged. 

There was something reserved about Seokjin, which Yoongi could relate to on a level. But was Seokjin shy, introverted, or insecure?

Yoongi drank from his bottled water and rolled his shoulders — his left was slightly tense. Seokjin watched the movement but said nothing.

“I might not be on your level,” Yoongi said. “I’m still too focused on breathing right, and my technique, and my shoulder.”

Seokjin hummed thoughtfully. 

“It sounds nice though,” Yoongi allowed. “What you said. But… If you think of nothing while swimming, what happens when you dive? It’s different, right?” He asked, hoping that Seokjin was thinking while diving, at least slightly, about how he would enter the water.

Seokjin looked thoughtful.

“I suppose it’s different from swimming. Well,” he laughed, “of course it is. But I am more focused.” 

“No eureka moments while ‘falling’?”

Yoongi appreciated how Seokjin seemed to roll over Yoongi’s questions in his mind. After a beat, he replied, “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Feeling hot around the collar, Yoongi cleared his throat.

“So you like videogames. What kind?”

Yoongi learned that Seokjin went to the pool every weekday, but at different times. He also learned that Seokjin worked a desk job for a tuna packaging company, which Yoongi immediately wanted to know more about, but by then their time together was up. Seokjin did give Yoongi his number and asked again for an article of Yoongi’s to read. So they now had each other’s numbers.

Yoongi was happy to have made a friend, but wondered if he was misreading Seokjin’s intentions. Sometimes he felt Seokjin was flirting; others he wasn’t so sure. This budding relationship wasn’t following the course of Yoongi’s previous hook-ups… He usually met his partners at bars or on apps, where everyone’s intentions were made quite clear. In other relationships he’d had, they’d at least had already openly established their sexuality by now. With Seokjin, who was handsome, athletic, funny and kind… Yoongi was waiting for a shoe to drop.

His phone pinged; Seokjin had read the article Yoongi had chosen to send him. If Seokjin wasn’t gay, or had some extremist ideas Yoongi should be aware of, any piece of Yoongi’s writing was as good a litmus test as any. He had sent Seokjin one of his most recent pieces about student protests.

Seokjin’s return message was sent at 2AM, and was full of praise; especially for the boat and sea metaphors sprinkled throughout. Yoongi smiled to himself, because he’d hoped Seokjin would catch on. 

You are trying to charm me with all this water talk, Seokjin texted with generous emoji usage. Yoongi could already imagine the message in his voice. What if I hated the sea?

Tuna company? Yoongi texted back.

I COULD hate it… but I don’t
And I liked the article
Sleep now
Good night
🏊

If this was going somewhere, Yoongi didn’t mind the slow pace. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t mind having Seokjin as a friend. 

Yoongi really didn’t know anyone like him.

One of the worst parts about swimming was that it actually was good for him. Yoongi’s physiotherapist marvelled at his progress in one of their sessions, and Yoongi had to begrudgingly admit that he felt a difference. He grew more familiar with the water, and he could feel his back getting stronger, his posture better. Hell, even his knees were thanking him for the training. 

This was all good news, because on paper Yoongi visited the pool so often to better himself, to tend to his shoulder, to take care of the body that was to carry him into old age. Not to lock eyes with a carefree hunk across fifty meters of chlorine.

But it was bad news because Yoongi was slowly yet surely becoming aware of the fact that he did not like swimming at all. Not one bit.

Well, this was more of a truth he’d always known that was simply growing too difficult to suppress. By now, as improbable as it seemed, even the sheen of Kim Seokjin’s naked torso was losing its anaesthetic power.

Which was why Yoongi agreed to let Seokjin teach him to dive. Obviously.

Standing next to tall, handsome Seokjin in his Swedish-style goggles, Yoongi wished he could learn to dive without them, a small mercy within a humbling situation. But he simply hated getting water in his eyes too much; his eyes and nose, and mouth, and ears. He had taken to wearing earplugs lately, as his hearing was something he valued very much, but those at least could stay away while he learned from Kim Seokjin. A name that, Seokjin reminded him, meant he was on the winning team.

“Just by standing beside me, you’ve increased your chances of being a winner,” Seokjin joked. Craning his neck slightly to meet his eye, Yoongi wondered once again if Seokjin was flirting. It was getting increasingly difficult to tell.

When Seokjin said they should start with kneeling, Yoongi felt his blood tighten.

“What do you think I’m suggesting?” Seokjin teased, noticing, and making Yoongi wish to disappear. “This is how diving is taught! Come on, I’ll do it with you.”

Seokjin knelt right away, positioning his knees on the edge of the pool and looking up at Yoongi from behind his stupid goggles. To escape this angle, Yoongi acquiesced, feeling absolutely ridiculous as he knelt down beside him.

“Great,” Seokjin beamed when he joined him. “Okay. So. What you want to do,” he put his hands together in a prayer gesture, “is enter hands first. Like this.” He dipped his fingertips in the water, then submerged them fully. Yoongi found himself focusing on Seokjin’s fingers’ crookedness, and how lovely they looked. “Yoongi-ssi? Can you copy me?”

“Oh, sure. Seokjin-ssi.”

“‘Sure, hyung’,” Seokjin offered. Yoongi looked up from where he was dipping his hands into the water to catch a wink from Seokjin. He swallowed. He wasn’t ‘sure’ of anything right now.

So he cleared his throat, and turned his attention to dipping his hands back in the water. This was stupid. He was cold. He was cold half-naked and he didn’t want to dive, he didn’t want to get wet again. He wanted a hot shower and dry clothes.

“Hands first, then shoulders. You have to tip your body, like this,” Seokjin said, demonstrating helpfully, kneeling over the water, stretching his beautiful torso and toned arms in front of Yoongi. “Hands, head, shoulders, hips, and feet very last! Here. Watch me, then do what I do.”

Seokjin tipped into the water neatly, before Yoongi could fully register what he was doing. The pool splashed and echoed around him, a children’s swimming lesson taking place in the far lane. This was embarrassing.

Seokjin emerged from the water and pouted. “Hey! I said copy what I do.”

Yoongi sucked in a breath and begrudgingly braced himself for impact. 

“Oh, are you practicing diving?” A saviour appeared, in the mixed bag that was Kim Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung was one of the reasons Yoongi couldn’t rightly assume Seokjin was flirting with him. He had been Yoongi’s lane partner that first day, when he had openly been watching Seokjin with awe. Yoongi wasn’t exactly sure where Taehyung and Seokjin knew each other from, but they greeted each other often and sometimes Taehyung sat by the boards and applauded Seokjin when he dove. He also appeared to be close with Seokjin’s coach, and, of course, gorgeous.

As soon as Taehyung greeted them, he did a small run from behind Yoongi and dove into the water clumsily, his legs flying out behind him as he landed, splashing Yoongi in the face. Yoongi spluttered and wiped himself, while Seokjin berated Taehyung for being a show-off when he surfaced.

“See, you can do it, Yoongi-ssi!” Taehyung grinned up at Yoongi. “You don’t have to do it well. Just have fun with it.”

“Diving isn’t my idea of fun,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Then why did you ask me to teach you?” Seokjin asked, bemused.

“Bored,” Yoongi mumbled after a moment.

Seokjin looked stupified.

“Like… with life, or…?” Taehyung asked.

“It’s a Wednesday,” Yoongi finally shrugged, as if that were answer enough.

“So are you coming in the water, or not?” Taehyung was uninterested in further details. “Hands first, right hyung?” he glanced at Seokjin, then back at Yoongi. “Hyung taught me, too,” he explained.

Yoongi grit his teeth, and tipped into the water.

Yoongi entered the water ‘hands first’ more times than he could count, but didn’t garner the courage to leap from the pool’s edge before he got sick of the whole thing.

“I feel like a cartoon, there’s water up to my eyeballs,” he told the others, not making that much sense as he pulled himself out of the water one final time. “I’m done.”

If Seokjin was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He swam over to where Yoongi was perched and clinged onto the pool’s edge, his hand very near Yoongi’s wet thigh.

“Aw, you made great progress today, Yoongi-chi!” he told him, using the name he had bestowed upon Yoongi during this training lesson, a name Yoongi had not at all okayed. He hadn’t refused it, either, but…

“Yeah, you’re doing great,” Taehyung said, floating on his back. “I get it, it can be scary. I may look as good as hyung, but me, I could never do what he does. I can’t even stand on one of those boards.” He pointed upwards at the boards looming overhead. “I get fluttery.”

“Fluttery?” Yoongi asked, craving his towel now that he was out of the water, but unwilling to separate his thigh from the area where Seokjin’s hand rested.

“You know,” Taehyung said, gazing up at the ceiling. “In my tummy. And then the world starts to spin, and I’m sure I’ll fall.”

“That’s vertigo,” Seokjin told him.

“I don’t have that,” Taehyung shook his head. Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell Yoongi how scary it is,” he admonished, nudging Yoongi’s knee with his fist. “I’m going to get him up there someday.”

Yoongi was so enthralled by Seokjin’s knuckles resting on his knee that he at first didn’t register what he was implying. When he finally did, whatever Taehyung saw when he looked at Yoongi’s face made him burst into laughter. Taehyung floundered for purchase, the water beyond his depth, as Seokjin berated him without mercy.

“You’ll drown, and it will serve you right! What did Yoongi ever do to you? You interrupted our lesson to be a menace!”

“That’s my leave,” Yoongi said, and wondered if he was imagining the dismay in Seokjin’s eyes. It was hard to tell, with the goggles and all.

“See you around?” Seokjin asked as Taehyung came to rest on Yoongi’s other side, still spluttering and trying to get something akin to an apology out.

Wedged between the two hulking swimmers, Yoongi felt tiny in a way that both annoyed and endeared him. He really did not like swimming.

“See you,” he nodded, and pulled himself to his feet. “But don’t expect me to go up there.”

Seokjin just smiled, like he was in on a secret Yoongi wasn’t aware of yet.

Maybe friends was a bad idea after all.

Seokjin turned out to be right about swimming and thinking. Yoongi couldn’t give up swimming yet, so in the meantime he tried to put his mind elsewhere while he swam laps— he disassociated, if you will.

He got into the habit of taking work into the pool with him. Whatever piece of writing he had been working on earlier that day, he’d turn it over in his mind as he gasped for breath during his freestyle swimming, testing out trains of thought and turns of phrase. The first time he came up with the perfect chapter ending for his book, Seokjin wasn’t there. In the changing rooms, Yoongi texted him:

eureka moment while swimming

Seokjin replied almost immediately in a bubble of celebratory emojis, and attached a photo of Yoongi’s short story collection.

Just picked this up :>)

For a long while, Yoongi wasn’t sure how to answer. He was touched and more nervous than he was used to feeling about someone reading his work. His short stories were different from his articles. Even though they were fiction, they felt even more honest.

He longed to say, I hope you like it.

Finally, he responded, Let me know what you think, and went to bed.

Yoongi stood on a precipice, his body locked tight, his toes gripping onto the smooth surface of the diving board for dear life. He could not enjoy the hush that fell over the indoor pool at this later hour, could not marvel at how the pool’s surface looked gentle to the touch. He could only feel his own blood pounding in his ears, and a constant current of shivers pulsing up and down his spine.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Seokjin said gently from beside him, making Yoongi’s heart skip.

“Don’t talk to me,” Yoongi grit out. In fact, Yoongi didn’t even want Seokjin to move, too worried about the weight of him throwing Yoongi off balance and sending him into the watery depths below.

Seokjin made an affronted noise, of course quite at ease at this height and on this board. His only concern was for Yoongi, not for himself. It annoyed Yoongi somewhat that he could not imitate Seokjin’s calm, when calm had become such a point of pride for him… At the same time, it seemed very rational for a person to not feel calm at this height. ‘This height’ being the lowest board of the concrete tower by the diving pool. It was still higher than Yoongi found comfortable, and high enough to make him less of a human man and more of a petrified cat.

“You’re making it seem like it was my idea to get you up here,” Seokjin told him with a sigh. But it had been Seokjin’s idea, a joking suggestion he’d thrown out every once in a while. Sure, it was Yoongi’s prerogative to try today, but still. “Yoongi-ssi, let’s get you down.”

“No!” Yoongi said quickly.

“There’s no shame in it,” Seokjin kindly told him.

“There’s really not!” Taehyung called from below. He was part of this too, of course, today sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs kicking in the water, not a care in the world.

“If you had to count how many times Taehyung has climbed up here to climb back down…” Seokjin said while Taehyung nodded shyly from below. When Yoongi said nothing, Seokjin sighed. “Are you really set on jumping?”

Yoongi could not answer, for he wasn’t sure.

“I’ll stay here with you,” Seokjin said finally, and then said nothing else for a long time.

Why was Yoongi so hellbent on this? He’d be lying if part of him hadn’t wondered what it would be like to step into Seokjin’s world just for a moment, to figure out what could possibly be going through the man’s mind as he leapt from modest heights. But of course there was a more simple truth Yoongi was dancing around. The truth about why he would even want to step into Seokjin’s world in the first place. The reason why what might go through Seokjin’s mind as he jumped interested him. 

Seokjin was making his way through Yoongi’s short story collection, and would ambush Yoongi with thoughts and questions when Yoongi least expected it. He seemed to be enjoying it, even if he found a few stories so far to be ‘quite dark’. ‘But cool’, he’d always add, insisting that Yoongi himself was very cool. Every time this happened, of course, Yoongi wanted to fling himself from a great height. In a good way. Sort of.

As the seconds ticked by on the diving board, Yoongi gradually felt himself relax. He slowly grew used to the view from (slightly) high up, and the weight of his own body suspended above water. And maybe the easy way Seokjin held himself behind him held some bearing over his own feeling of safety.

Yoongi swallowed.

“I think I’m ready.”

A moment passed before Seokjin answered.

“Oh? Ready?”

Yoongi nodded. “I’m going to jump. And then I’ll never come up here again.”

Seokjin let out a startled laugh. “Alright then. Well. If you’re sure… As I said before. You want to keep your posture straight. May I?”

Yoongi looked over his shoulder and nodded, allowing Seokjin’s fingers to lightly touch his bare shoulder, and following his instruction.

“Good,” Seokjin said softly, his voice sending a low thrum of energy towards the bottom of Yoongi’s spine. Then, “I thought you’d stopped shaking.”

“Me too,” Yoongi muttered.

Taehyung whistled from below, and Seokjin lifted his fingers.

“Brat,” he grumbled. “Alright, Yoongi-ssi. Arms across your chest, like this. Hold onto your nose if you think that would be more comfortable. Once you’re in the water, stay calm and trust that you will find your way up. Taehyung is here, and so am I.”

“You’re making me feel silly,” Yoongi grumbled.

“You’re not silly.” Seokjin said this with such finality that Yoongi believed him.

And still, Yoongi did not jump.

A warm whisper in his ear sent shivers down his spine. “Turn off that part of your brain that’s screaming that this is a bad idea.” And with that, Seokjin finally stepped back.

“You can do it Yoongi-hyung!” Taehyung shouted. “Woo!”

Taehyung’s cheering pushed Yoongi over the edge — just because he badly wanted him to stop. Yoongi took a deep breath and dropped off of the edge of the board.

He wasn’t sure if he closed his eyes or not on the way down. He would later remember a falling sensation too short lived as water swelled and filled his vision completely. He barely just felt the whoosh of air around him before he was hitting the water and was engulfed by it.

He opened his eyes and saw only water and his own flailing hands. He tried swimming upwards, but it was taking all too long. Right as panic began to spark within him, the surface greeted him with fresh open arms. Yoongi gulped down air before startling at the sight of Seokjin treading water a few feet away. The diver was watching Yoongi expectantly. Somewhere behind him, Taehyung was applauding ferociously.

“How do you feel?” Seokjin asked tentatively.

Yoongi coughed, but found himself grinning. He understood what Seokjin had meant about jumping being no big deal. It was easy, once you decided to do it.

Seokjin gave him a relieved smile.

“Easy as falling, right?” he said. Yoongi fixed him with a glare, even though he was still grinning. Seokjin swam closer and Yoongi thought he could see Seokjin wiggling his eyebrows underneath his goggles. “Can we say you fell for me?”

“It’s not falling!” Yoongi spluttered. “I mean, maybe I fell. But not… ah, whatever.”

“Want to go again?” Seokjin asked, surprisingly earnest.

“No,” Yoongi laughed at once, and Seokjin looked taken aback. To emphasize his point, Yoongi splashed him. It was Seokjin’s turn to splutter before splashing him back.

Yoongi was in no hurry to ever do such a thing again. Not anytime soon, anyway.

“Taehyung-ah, you can go on without me.”

The three of them were leaving the pool hall after showering and changing together, chatting about this and that the whole while. Taehyung was easy to talk to, and was able to fit himself into Yoongi and Seokjin’s dynamic seamlessly, with no awkwardness whatsoever. But all of a sudden Seokjin was asking him to leave.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised. Then he zeroed in on Yoongi, who felt quite perplexed.

“Riiight,” Taehyung said, lips spreading into a wide grin. “See you, then, hyung.” He nodded at Yoongi. “Yoongi-ssi.”

Seokjin tutted in a way that betrayed his fondness for the swimmer, but didn’t say anything else until Taehyung was safely crossing the street. Then it was just the two of them.

“So…” Seokjin said, looking at Yoongi’s face but avoiding his eye – a habit that suited Yoongi just fine. “My competition is in two weeks.”

“Wow,” Yoongi said, unsure of where this was going. “Really? That soon?”

“It’s on the 18th,” Seokjin nodded, looking away again, following a child and her parent with his eyes vacantly. “A Saturday. So I was wondering, if you’re not busy… I mean, it’s just a regional thing… but I’d like it if you came.”

With that, Seokjin finally met his eye, and it was all Yoongi could do to not let out a nervous giggle. Taehyung had to leave for Seokjin to ask Yoongi this? This felt so high school. In a really sweet, surprising way. 

Seokjin didn’t look nervous on the surface, but Yoongi was beginning to understand how Seokjin worked. He never looked nervous to the untrained eye; not before jumping, not before complimenting Yoongi’s backstroke or jacket or short story. He moved through the world in an off-hand manner, but it was becoming clear that there was a premeditation attached to almost all of it. Seokjin was wired to put everyone around him at ease; if he didn’t seem nervous, no one else had any reason to be, either. He carried this burden quite elegantly, artfully, but Yoongi was finally beginning to see the extent of Seokjin's innate selflessness, and it charmed him to no end.

In response to Seokjin’s invitation, Yoongi wanted to say something corny, something like, It’s me you’ve fallen for, right? Something straight out of a drama. He was sure Taehyung would make a move like that.

Instead, Yoongi allowed himself to smile when he said, “Yes. I’ll come.”

It wasn’t as if they had been texting all that often before, but Seokjin grew noticeably more quiet in the two weeks leading up to his big jump. Yoongi allowed him his space, not wanting to intrude on whatever headspace a diver might be in before a competition. Seokjin’s training hours seemed to increase, because Yoongi saw him at the pool almost every time he went. However, Seokjin didn’t always dive. Some days he just climbed to the top and stood over the edge, looking down, shaking out his limbs and taking deep breaths.

In one of his few texts, Seokjin let Yoongi know that diving every day could do irreversible damage to his body so instead he simply practiced going through the motions, to prepare himself mentally for the competition. 

Yoongi wondered what that felt like. Preparing your body for a jump that wasn’t coming any time soon, over and over, stuck in an odd time loop for days full of fake outs. 

He decided to keep his edging joke to himself. For now.

The day before Seokjin’s event, the diver was nowhere to be seen at the pool. Yoongi settled into his own swimming session with ease, vaguely musing on how easy it was now. He barely had to concentrate on his form any more, and could settle into a rhythm that succeeded in emptying his mind of his days’ worries. He was so close to finishing the first draft of his novel, with only a few edits and paragraphs to add caught between him and the date he’d settled on with his publisher.

But swimming wasn’t all bliss. There were parts he was still uncomfortable with: he didn’t like water in his nose or ears, or slowly filling up his goggles. He didn’t like accidentally swallowing water, or getting a cramp. No matter how much he had improved at swimming, he still couldn’t say he enjoyed it at all. This became all the more evident on days when Seokjin, and even Taehyung, weren’t here. Yoongi knew his shoulder had shown huge improvement, but on days like today he grouchily struggled to understand what this was all for.

He definitely wouldn’t have stuck to swimming as long as he had if it weren’t for Seokjin. The moment he had this thought, he knew it to be true.

So where did that leave him?

Working out was supposed to be a chore, that much was a given. But surely he could find a chore that suited him better than this. Only, of course, that would mean he would see Seokjin way less often. 

Maybe.

That was what happened with adult friendships, though. These past few months he had seen Seokjin and Taehyung more often than he’d seen his best friend. An ache began to swell in his chest as he thought about losing his prime, routine access to Seokjin’s smile.

Yoongi came to a stop in the middle of the pool — the deepest part — suddenly gasping for breath and choking on it. He spluttered and heaved his way towards a laugh, feet paddling beneath him to keep him afloat.

He liked Seokjin. He liked him a lot.

He had found Seokjin’s ‘high school’ invitation to his competition funny, but he was the one doing the equivalent of taking the same classes as him to catch glimpses of him across the room, to have something in common to talk about. He was just as bad as Seokjin was.

Yoongi laughed to himself, aware that he must look crazy to the lifeguard, who was eyeing him nervously from her perch. He waited until his giggles had subsided, and swam towards the side of the pool, hopefully for the last time.

In the dressing room, Yoongi took out his phone and messaged Seokjin.

Eureka moment in the pool!
Good luck tomorrow :)

Seokjin didn’t message him back until Yoongi was settling in for the evening with a bowl of ramyeon and a history documentary. 

I’ll see you there, right?
And congrats on your eureka :))))

Yoongi smiled to himself, and told him he had made plans to go with Taehyung. To which Seokjin replied,

Perfect :) good night :)

Yoongi traced the emojis with his eyes and resisted the urge to kick his feet like a teenage girl.

Seokjin had described the competition as ‘just’ a prefuncture thing, but the area around the pool hall was packed. Taehyung drove Yoongi out of the city and they had to toil through the hall’s parking lot for some time before finally finding a spot.

Yoongi couldn’t help but feel excited as they made their way through the throng of buzzing people chattering outside and into the pool building. He loved sporting events, and this one had the benefit of belonging to Seokjin. Families and friends milled around the lobby, and Taehyung had Yoongi hold his posterboard while he texted Seokjin their location. Yoongi took this moment to admire Taehyung’s handiwork: he had used a generous amount of glue and glitter to spell out TEAM KIM SEOKJIN, and Yoongi was startled to see Kim Seokjin’s face winking at him from the cardboard, coated in specks of glitter.

“Is that for me?”

Yoongi jumped again to find the real Kim Seokjin standing in front of him with a wink. He was wearing a blue tracksuit with a number pinned to the front, which might as well have been a three-piece suit for how dashing he looked in it. That was the kind of guy Seokjin was: a guy who made you think dashing unironically.

“Wow, Yoongi, you’re so talented,” Seokjin said, nodding at the poster. “Never would have pegged you for a glitter man.”

“Ah, hyung!” Taehyung beamed, enveloping Seokjin in a hug. “I was just messaging you.”

“Taehyung’s the author of this masterpiece,” Yoongi told Seokjin, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“Ah, I should have known,” Seokjin grinned as Taehyung released him. Taehyung took his poster from Yoongi, and with nothing between them, Yoongi and Seokjin stood in front of each other awkwardly. “You came!” Seokjin finally said.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Yoongi replied. “It’s busy here. Are you nervous?”

Seokjin licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, actually... What?” Seokjin asked when Yoongi smiled.

“It’s nothing,” Yoongi dismissed, adding in a playful tone, “I didn’t know you got nervous, hyung.”

Seokjin’s ears seemed to glow pink. “Ah, well,” he said, looking down bashfully. “Only sometimes.”

Yoongi felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and squeeze his hand.

“Hyung,” Taehyung cut in, holding up his phone. “Jimin’s looking for you. Sorry to interrupt,” he added with a smug, uncoordinated eyebrow wiggle.

The pink spread from Seokjin’s ears to his cheeks and he took a self-conscious step away from Yoongi, rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up,” Seokjin grumbled, reaching out to gently smack Taehyung’s cheek – although it was more of an open-handed tap. “This brat, seriously. I guess I’ll go. Duty calls.”

“Good luck, if we don’t see you,” Yoongi said to him. Seokjin’s cheeks bunched around an embarrassed smile.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing his head over and over before making his way away from them through the crowd.

“Ah, this hyung,” Taehyung sighed, joining Yoongi in watching Seokjin disappear. “You gotta love him.”

Yoongi didn’t give Taehyung the satisfaction of agreeing, instead asking him to lead the way to their seats.

The stands for the crowds were high, above a veranda of sorts, giving the attendees a full view of the pool area. As Seokjin emerged among his competitors in his blue bathrobe, Yoongi felt an overwhelming surge of tenderness in being allowed to watch him like this, from above. Seokjin felt his in this crowded pool hall, a warm familiarity surrounding the diver like a halo.

The divers lined up below the board, shuffling around, some more nervous than others. Seokjin looked focused in a way Yoongi of course found attractive, and found them quickly once he decided to look: Taehyung’s glittery posterboard helped with that. Seokjin’s face relaxed at the sight of them, and his wave was small and shy: everything Yoongi knew him not to be.

Yoongi felt himself grow hot in the stuffy pool hall, and he began fiddling with his jacket the moment Seokjin moved his focus away from them. Yoongi was sure he felt Taehyung smirking beside him, but he didn’t mind ignoring him.

They watched the parade of fit young men throwing themselves from a great height, and Yoongi couldn’t help but tense up during every jump. The judges sat at the side of the pool, scribbling away and raising boards with numbers on them, and Yoongi tried to follow along with the scoring system. He’d spent the past few evenings reading up on diving competitions, but he was still nowhere near an expert. Beside him, Taehyung quietly answered his questions and explained some of the scores, while disagreeing animatedly with others. Then it was Seokjin’s turn.

Yoongi watched him climb the ladder to meet the judge at the top of the board. It was as tall as the highest board in their pool hall, but stood alone instead of being part of a structure. It made it look even more lonely, more harrowing.

Not only was Seokjin going to do something dangerous and amazing, but he looked otherworldly while doing it. His blue trunks covered the essentials and nothing else was left to the imagination: miles of tan skin and ungodly proportions, made even more unique surrounded by tens of other men who were here to dive, just like him. Seokjin was special. Yoongi wanted to tell the people around him in the stands that he knew him, that Seokjin was his, even if it was only in the form of friendship. He felt pride blossoming in his chest as Seokjin shook out his limbs on the springboard, eyes focused and determined.

When Seokjin jumped, the world held its breath. 

Seokjin was all that moved, a clean summersault that could only be achieved if the air itself had decided to move aside in his favor. Then he was slicing through that very same air, an arrow that left no trace on the water’s surface. It was a magic trick: Seokjin was there, and then he wasn’t.

The crowd was stiff with awe. Yoongi felt it. When Seokjin emerged, their section burst in admiration, clapping and calling out in awe. Taehyung stood up, applauding furiously, and attempted a whistle.

It wasn’t until Taehyung grabbed him that Yoongi realized he was standing too. He didn’t remember getting to his feet, but he felt incredibly wired, as if he was ready for a fight, or to run a marathon.

“That was amazing!” Taehyung said, shaking Yoongi in his excitement. “Did you see that entry? Not a drop! And the jump? He has to score high, he has to.”

Below them, Seokjin swam towards his coach at the side of the pool looking slightly bewildered. Maybe he too was in awe of what he’d just achieved, or maybe he was simply processing the end of months of anticipation: the jump was over. Everything else was out of his hands.

The judges were quick to raise their decisions. 9s and 8s across the row of five stoney faced judges. Seokjin nodded dazedly below as his coach raised his arms above his head. Above, Taehyung and Yoongi cheered.

After the last two competitors dived, it was official: Seokjin had placed second. 

Next to Yoongi, Taehyung cheered so loud Yoongi’s eardrum almost burst.

Afterwards, in the once-again entry hall, Taehyung immediately seized Seokjin in a bouncy celebration, dancing him around in a small circle. He caught Seokjin’s coach’s arm and dragged him into it, too, knowing better than to bring in Yoongi.

Yoongi didn’t feel left out. He laughed watching Seokjin, who dropped the ‘Taehyung is a brat’ act to laugh along with him, joyful.

He had once told Yoongi that he wasn’t into winning, but Yoongi could see clearly that he hadn’t been entirely truthful. 

“Yoongi-ah!” Seokjin beamed after catching his eye, and disentangled himself from Taehyung, who moved away with Seokjin’s coach — Jimin, if Yoongi remembered correctly. Taehyung and Jimin were of no concern to Yoongi, though.

The moment Seokjin was close enough — and Seokjin came pretty close — Yoongi took a small handful of his tracksuit and kissed him on the lips. A short but certain demonstration of affection, a declaration of intentions. Seokjin’s lips were surprisingly cold, and chlorine flooded Yoongi’s nostrils, bringing with it self-doubt. He hadn’t been certain he’d do it until the moment he did, and was suddenly awash with uncertainty: was kissing in public something Seokjin was even okay with? If he was actually into the idea of kissing Yoongi at all—

Yoongi took a step back, more embarrassed than he wished to be, and avoided Seokjin’s eyes to say, “Congratulations! You were—“

Seokjin put an arm around Yoongi’s middle and pulled him so close Yoongi couldn’t miss the smile on his face. 

Seokjin kissed him with a barely suppressed laugh, which melted into something deeper. Chlorine seeped through Yoongi’s nostrils once more, and heat spread throughout his limbs. Somewhere, Yoongi was aware of cheering — probably from Taehyung. The man seemed put on this Earth to cheer from what Yoongi had seen of him.

The next time they pulled apart, Seokjin was grinning widely, his ears redder than Yoongi had ever seen them. Yoongi reached out and pulled at the medal around Seokjin’s neck, lifting the silver medallion for inspection. If it were possible, Seokjin blushed even harder.

“You know, Yoongi… I do have thoughts when I dive,” Seokjin confessed nervously, eyes shifting. “I thought… I should ask out Yoongi.”

Yoongi shoved him playfully with a fist.

“I don’t need to jump from 80 feet to know I’d say yes.”

“89 feet.” Seokjin corrected with a shrug that lost its nonchalance with his hands fastened securely around Yoongi’s waist. “So, yes?”

Yoongi nodded. “But there’s something I have to confess,” he said in an even tone. Seokjin raised his eyebrows. “I hate swimming.”

After a beat, Seokjin let out a loud laugh before leaning in for a third kiss. But this time, they approached each in a slow dive, savoring the moment. When their lips finally met, it was like hitting the water…

Only, as far as Yoongi was concerned, infinitely more pleasurable.