Chapter Text
Sunlight pouring across your skin, your shadow flat on the wall.
The dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs.
. . . . . . . . . .
Min Yoongi barely catches himself from falling on his ass, but he is a Man On A Mission and pushes forward, shoving people with his shoulders unkindly. Everything is too loud and too crowded and Too Much, his heart feels like it’s going a mile a minute or maybe it’s just the hard bass of the music confusing him. Either way it feels like he’s about ready to die. Really, this is all just a bad, bad idea, and the alcohol isn’t helping. If anything he’s close to making a fool of himself and throwing up on some poor soul’s shoes, wouldn’t that be a grand way to end the night. God, why did he let his asshole friends drag him here? Will he ever learn?
He grimaces, blinking blurrily against the harsh flashing lights of the club. Yoongi gives the dance floor one final desperate search, but he knows it’s useless. He’s too short in this dark sea of bodies, the world feeling like it’s tilting if he moves his body too quickly. He calls his friends every bad word he has cataloged in his muddled brain while making his way through the crowd in search of a corner to take shelter in and just hope they find him themselves. That is, if he even makes it out alive.
Luck, as it may seem, is not on his side when someone crashes into him and sends him tumbling into another person. Frantically, Yoongi clutches tightly to the nearest thing he can which happens to be a soft t-shirt and realizes a moment later that it's really unnecessary since the person it belongs to didn't even seem to budge from the weight of his fall. Actually, hands steady him easily, resting firm on his biceps, and Yoongi instinctively leans forward until his forehead is nearly pressed against the person’s chest. It’s suddenly far too hot and far too hard to breathe.
“Woah, hey. You good?” a rather deep voice says close to his ear. Yoongi doesn’t know what to say; obviously he’s not doing so hot right now, and doubts he can last in this hell much longer without having a full on panic attack at this point. Should he say something? His throat tightens instead. His silence must prompt some kind of alarm from the person he’s practically clinging to for dear life (god, how embarrassing™) because he feels lips brush his ear again and the voice says, “Are you okay?” this time dripping with concern.
Distress momentarily forgotten, Yoongi takes a moment to let that voice sink in because Jesus, did this guy gargle gravel this morning? It’s so husky and oddly soothing, and he’s close enough that he can feel the vibrations through his forehead, now pressed against a sharp collarbone. Heaving out a sigh, Yoongi closes his eyes, taking note of the comforting woodsy scent of this stranger’s cologne despite the undertone of sweat. He feels sick. Yoongi gives his head a subtle shake of no, he most certainly isn’t okay, and apparently that’s enough.
Something else is said, but it’s drowned out by the loud music, and he’s being turned and navigated by a large but gentle hand at the small of his back. He should probably let go of this guy’s shirt, but his hands only clench tighter into the fabric at the thought of potentially being swept away by the moving bodies around him if he even dares to let go. It isn’t until they break through the crowd that Yoongi allows his fingers to slowly unfurl and arms drop to his side. He continues to be guided until they reach the bar where he gratefully collapses into a chair, head thumping against the sticky surface of the counter with a groan.
The hand resting on his back smoothes up his spine, rubs at his shoulder blades before weaving through his damp smoky grey hair and. Okay. Normally , this would make him pull away as quickly as possible, alarms going off in his brain. He hates being touched 90% of the time unless it’s his friends, so it’s strange that he hums at the comforting gesture. Must be the alcohol, he muses. Yoongi follows the length of the arm and finally takes a look at his ‘savior’. What he sees makes him stare in slight awe. His mouth might also be hanging open, but like, can you blame him?
The stranger is possibly the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. It’s dark where they’re sitting, but the lack of light does nothing to hide how beautiful he is and the smile he shoots at Yoongi when their eyes meet makes his whole face light up. The sun must love him, all tall and golden. His skin is slick with sweat, plastering messy red hair against his forehead.
“Better?” Yoongi barely hears, that hint of worry still present, as the other slides into the seat next to him, retracting his arm to lean against the counter. There’s a headache beginning to pulse just behind his eyes, so Yoongi closes them again and simply nods. Moments later, he feels a nudge at his ankle causing him to pout and open his eyes again to find a glass of water sitting next to his head. He’s slightly surprised the stranger is even still there, and Yoongi must look confused because he snorts loudly and looks amused by Yoongi’s current state. Rude.
“Thanks,” Yoongi mutters knowing he won’t be heard, but sees a shoulder lift in a shrug anyway. Yoongi drinks half of the glass in one go and instantly feels a little better if only because his mouth was drier than a desert, and it took him this long to notice. He then presses the cool glass against his temple, moving his tongue around his mouth as he takes in the guy once again.
Red head seems to perk up when the attention is back on him again, eyes lighting up, and it’s kind of cute. The guy leans in close to speak again, “You kind of scared me there, y’know? I’m Taehyung, by the way.”
“Sorry,” Yoongi can feel his face flushing again and moves to press the glass against his cheek instead. “I lost my asshole friends,” he pauses, “And I’m kinda drunk,” he pauses again to stare at Taehyung’s lips seeing as his bottom lip’s getting snagged between his teeth to hide a smile, “And you’re kinda gorgeous,” he doesn’t mean to say but it’s out anyway, “Again, thanks for saving my ass,” he tags on lamely. Taehyung looks slightly taken aback at this, face breaking out into a shy smile. Yoongi is pretty sure his face is as red as Taehyung’s hair, and he really just wants the dance floor to swallow him whole. Or Taehyung.
Wow. Is this really the time?
“Thank you…?” Taehyung’s voice lilts on the tail end of the word, head tilting.
Yoongi blinks and quickly remembers he wasn’t born in the jungle, “Yoongi. My name is Yoongi.”
“Yoongi,” Taehyung repeats, lips quirking. It sounds nice. He wants to hear it again. “Nice to meet you. Even if the condition isn’t the best.”
“Likewise,” Yoongi drawls, relaxing a bit into the bar. He squints at Taehyung, “You’re awfully sober to be at a club.”
“Or maybe I’m just really good at holding my liquor,” amusement twinkling in his eye, Taehyung takes a deep drink from his own glass of water, “I don’t drink.”
“Who goes to a club and doesn’t drink?”
“Who goes to a club when they obviously don’t like clubs in the first place?”
“Fuck off, I was dragged here against my will,” Yoongi says rather petulantly, but it makes Taehyung laugh, so he counts it as a win.
“Yea, okay, if you say so.”
Conversation trails off to silence between them. Taehyung looks hesitant tapping his fingers against his water glass, looking off into the crowd as if he wants to go back but doesn’t want to leave Yoongi on his own. It’s oddly sweet and makes Yoongi feel weird.
“You don’t have to stick around, y’know. I can probably fend for myself now,” Yoongi offers a tired if not reassuring smile, and he means it. If anything, he’s about to haul ass and just call a cab back to his and Hoseok’s shared apartment. His friends can find their own way home, the fuckers.
“Are you sure?”
“Yea, yea,” he waves his hand in dismissal but jumps when another circles his wrist. Eyes wide, he’s about to tug his hand back until he sees Taehyung snatch up a pen and starts writing across his skin.
Looking rather smug, Taehyung slides out of his seat, bending down to his ear one last time, “In case you get lost again.”
. . . . . . . . . .
Yoongi wakes the next morning surprisingly not feeling as bad as he thought he would, though that telltale hangover headache is present and familiar. He’s curled up in his comforter and probably looks like a disheveled burrito, but he feels so deeply comfortable and warm and content in this moment.
Groping for his phone, still groggy with sleep, he vaguely replays last night events: the club, too many shots, losing his friends. Taehyung.
He thought for a second that maybe he imagined that last part, but the ink on his skin says otherwise.
Yoongi eyes the smudged number on his wrist for a while as he scrolls through his phone. He makes it to ten minutes before he eventually gives in and taps the number into a new message. He types a quick message and presses send before he can talk himself out of it.
you: hi
you: sorry, it’s yoongi. thanks again for last night.
He proceeds to save the number and not even a full minute passes before his phone vibrates in his hand. He huffs, swiping back to his messages.
taehyung: :0 !!!!!!!!!
taehyung: hello!!!!
Yoongi receives a string of heart and wave emojis a few seconds later that makes him snort. He’s just as bad as Hoseok, king of overusing emojis and sending multiple messages at a time.
taehyung: no need to thank me!!! it wasnt a problem i promise
taehyung: did u ever find ur friends did u make it home alright
taehyung: well i guess u did if ur talking to me
taehyung: which is shocking tbh
He simply blinks at the onslaught of messages, humming at the last comment because same . Usually he scrubs away numbers the first second he gets. Yoongi, being the habitual selfie taker that he is, doesn’t think twice when he turns his camera on and snaps a quick picture of him curled up, only his droopy eyes and wild hair visible.
you: (Photo)
you: still you didn’t have to but yes
you: im safe and sound. i didn’t
you: find my friends, i just took a cab home instead.
He can’t help but smile at the next string of emojis and exclamation points he gets, at least three lines of hearts, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that exactly.
taehyung: oh my god um…thats cute…ur cute… :/
taehyung: also
taehyung: fuck ya fake friends where ya real friends at
taehyung: wait isnt it like….3pm….ur still in bed...
you: you don’t know me or my life
taehyung: fair enough
taehyung: i hope u slept well tho!!
taehyung: (Photo)
taehyung: (Photo)
taehyung: meanwhile im suffering
taehyung: but its a brew-tiful day outside :)
Yoongi’s brain is suddenly bombarded by the memory of Taehyung glowing in a dark club room and thinks he even looks better in the sunlight where he belongs. The first picture is just a snap of his table, messy with papers and colored pens, a thick book dotted with sticky notes, one mug empty and one half full, and an empty plate. The second one is clearly Taehyung dressed up in a white turtleneck and glasses perched on his nose. He’s sitting by a window, light cutting across his face at just the right angle for him to see the brown of his eyes. Taehyung looks so soft, Yoongi doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. He stares at the picture longer than he’ll admit and almost saves it but thinks against it.
you: that wasn’t funny
you: how are you actually like….a real person
taehyung: dont be a prick my puns are amazing
taehyung: ?? i could ask the same thing
you: i have eyes. you’re easily one of the
you: most attractive people i’ve seen
you: but you probably get that a lot.
you: you’re not a model right?
taehyung: STOP hlfkjhgd
taehyung: flattery will get u no where
taehyung: actually thats a lie
Yoongi is well and truly amazed, not only by himself but by the next chain of events.
you: hey i know that place? would it be weird if
you: i invited myself to join you?
you: i can buy you a coffee.
you: to pay you back for last night. ofc.
taehyung: is that what the kids are calling it these days ;)))
taehyung: i wouldn’t mind the company
taehyung: just so we’re clear this is a date right
Yoongi rubs his eyes, rereads that last line three more times, and stares at the opposite wall for a minute all in that order. Then proceeds to hide his face in his pillow. He feels silly but also like he wants to die. He knows it’s because of the attention. And, y’know, the fact that Taehyung is absolutely everything out of his league, probably. He shouldn’t be getting his hopes up so high so fast, but it’s hard. Doesn’t stop him from typing out the affirmative though, his heart pounding a little too fast in his chest. He’s got to live while he can right? Right.
you: i mean i guess so…if you want it to be
taehyung: is that even a question
taehyung: but like this is a two way street so
taehyung: only if you want it to be too
After confirming, very eagerly mind you, that he would, they exchange a few more messages before Yoongi lets him know he’ll be there in twenty. It’s a short walk.
(taehyung: dont be latte ;)
you: choke
taehyung: kinky :// didnt know we were already to that stage in this relationship)
He finally drags himself out of bed, comforter still very much wrapped around him, and when Hoseok chirps a Good afternoon, sunshine! from his spot on the couch, the first thing he says is, “I’m going to drop hints that I hate you: I hate you,” but there’s a smile still stuck on his face because he has a date, and Hoseok doesn’t know if he should be amused or offended.