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Min Yoongi, even in the twenty-fourth year of his existence still decidedly hates parties—especially the kinds that his family throws. There's just too many people he has to interact with and too less booze to drown himself in so he could at least pretend to enjoy the glare of the harsh chandelier lights and the sparkle of the jewelries their guests always try to flaunt at each other; could at least pretend that the itch underneath his collar and the annoyance he feels from the jealous stares coming from the children of other moguls (as if their parents weren't as successful enough as the Mins) did not exist.
He likes to remind himself that he’s pretty much lucky with the extravagance his family spends on occasions—at least they don’t haul up weird variations of abstract paintings and exhibit them on their walls like Namjoon’s family does (they like Pollacks and Picassos especially, but there will always be at least three paintings in there made by local artists, as it's their way of showing their support to the local art community), and their idea of holding an event is at least relatively normal compared to Seokjin’s family parading around town in a limousine (once, he'd been too distracted with his project that he unwittingly said yes to Seokjin's invite of joining his family in the limo and when the day came, he couldn't take it back because taking it back would mean Seokjin getting mad at him and he wouldn't want that to happen because he knows how much suffering he would have to go through if Seokjin chooses that moment as one of those rare times that he gets mad over something and vows to never forget it. Still, that doesn't mean he didn't have any regrets).
When Yoongi recalls those stuff, he decides that he’s not that worst off, after all—there are bigger, weirder things out in the world, and although he thinks he could have enough of this world run up by chaebols who are so hung up on staying up in the social ladder, he likes to think that maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe his mom’s insistence of calling in the same dance troupe to dance to classical music for their routines isn’t all that bad since she does it because she genuinely likes classical music, especially when it’s used in dancing; maybe his father continuously telling him to introduce himself to other people might be of use some time, some day, just that he doesn’t know it yet; maybe his brother’s constant absence in their daily lives isn’t all that worthless since it’s partly because of him and the business trips he keeps on attending why their company is still intact and is actually booming in their lines of business.
The annoying constant to all the possible variable changes to the W’s and H of the party, however, is the fact that Yoongi’s mom always tries to introduce him to someone so they could possibly end up being romantically involved.
(One time, Yoongi almost got into an argument with her because she kept insisting for him to meet the child of one of their stockholders and he had blurted out that he didn’t want to date her because he was gay, and she had blinked at him, as if trying to digest that information for a while, before she’s sighing, touching his arm lightly—much unlike the reaction that he was expecting. “You could just have told me. See how much time I wasted looking for girls for you to date when what you wanted were guys.”
And Yoongi just gaped at her, because he couldn’t believe the reality of everything that time. She laughed at him in response, offering him a gentle smile. “Sometimes you just have to tell people what you mean. And if what you like are cute boys, then I will find cute boys for you.”
He wanted to argue then that no—that was just part of the reason why he didn’t want to date any of the people his mom presented him but that the biggest part for it was because he just didn’t want to date. Dating wasn’t his thing—casual hook-ups were okay, one-night stands were even better, but relationships weren’t for him. But sometimes he forgets from which side of the family he gets his stubbornness from, and his mom waved him off with a laugh.)
And it’s like Yoongi’s mom always has her mom radar out for him, because she zones in on him right away, and she fans him over to where she is, standing beside a woman who looks a bit younger than her but still exudes the same air of elegance that chaebols had. If she were any other person, Yoongi could just have easily ignored her. But he’s her mom, and if he knows anyone who holds grudges worse than Seokjin, it’s her. She’s the type to be discreet about it, but she’ll never let you live it down, constantly hinting about the problem until she sees you squirm in discomfort under her brittle gaze and passive-aggressive words.
Yoongi adjusts the lapels of his suit and walks over to them, the usual polite smile plastered on to his face. Upon closer look, however, the woman wasn’t as extravagant as Yoongi thought she’d be—she’s wearing a pearl necklace and pearl earrings, and a golden wedding band glinted in her ring finger, but aside from that, she wore no other jewelries, like most of the gaudy ones their guests have. The dress she’s wearing is simple too, but nonetheless, he knows it was still costly solely based from the cloth used to make it.
“Sunhee, this is my son, Yoongi.” His mom wraps a hand around his shoulder and nudges him forward. He bows slightly and offers his hand out for a shake, and the woman takes it with a kind smile, almost warm. “Yoongi, this is Mrs. Kim. Her family owns the photography studio that takes photos of our artists for the official shoots.” Yoongi lets out a small “ah” in understanding, nodding with a practiced smile of grace on his lips. He knows of Sunshine studios a lot—read a lot of articles about their photos being among the best, and he knows that the existing partnership the photography studio has with their entertainment company isn’t just there because of personal connections.
He knows it’s probably not Mrs. Kim’s first time to attend one of his family’s parties, but this is the first time they’re being introduced to each other. But somehow, he already feels like she’s not like one of the stuck-up chaebols he had to deal with.
“You’re right, he’s cute. I bet he looks good with my son.” Mrs. Kim and his mom both giggle, and Yoongi’s eyes widen in realization. His mom is probably setting him up with this woman’s child. Just when he’s thought that the party had her occupied to forget at least that part. He shouldn’t have been too complacent. “Don’t worry Yoongi, I’m sure you’d like Taehyung.”
Yoongi wants to politely decline, but then Mrs. Kim spots someone behind Yoongi and she’s fanning him over, and Yoongi thinks this is probably the best time for him to hightail it out of here.
“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back. Soon.” Yoongi says. Or never. He ignores Mrs. Kim asking if he could wait just a bit because “Taehyungie is here, you guys should just say hi for a bit”, and he walks past his mother despite her trying to tell him to better not try escaping, heading straight for the door at the end of the hall.
“I hate my life.” He says, closing his eyes and letting the muscles on his back relax as he’s propped himself up against the door of the bathroom stall. There’s a quick thought that passes through his mind that tells him to just make a run for it, but he knows his mom would kill him (maybe not literally, but she’s quite good at making figurative things feel like their literal meanings), and he hasn’t quite proven himself to his family that he could produce songs just as well as he could manage their business yet so he lets the idea drop.
“Or maybe I should just tell them I’m already dating someone?” He mutters to himself, and he for a moment he thinks it could work—Seokjin would be an okay option, but then he remembers how Seokjin had looked at one of the dancers from the dance troupe his family usually hires for their events from that last party that they’d attended together, and he knows that this time is crucial and that Seokjin probably wouldn’t agree.
Namjoon is out of the question because probably everyone knows he keeps on popping a boner every time Hoseok—one of the newly-hired producers for Min Entertainment— is around, even his mom (well probably anyone but Hoseok. Either that, or he’s a sadist who likes seeing Namjoon suffer in all of his awkward glory).
He knows he doesn’t have that many options because he’s made it a conscious decision to limit his circle of friends, and this is one of those moments that he truly regrets it.
For a moment, he contemplates hiding in the bathroom until everyone’s left the party, but then again, he really isn’t that desperate enough to lock himself up in a bathroom for two hours.
When he gets out of the bathroom, dinner has already started, which means two things: 1) that his father’s long, boring speech is already finished and 2) everyone is too busy trying to fill their own stomachs with food that he doesn’t need to be introduced to anyone just yet.
He easily spots Seokjin’s light pink hair seated on one of the tables, and he slips next to his friend, who’s already eaten half of the steak he has on his plate. The table was reserved for the three of them, but Namjoon’s running a bit late from work so it’s only the two of them for now.
Seokjin glances at him and tries to say something, but his mouth is too full so he settles for finishing chewing on the food first. Yoongi eyes the food on his plate with distaste. Seokjin’s always appreciated food a lot to the point that his plate is full with probably every single thing from the food served to the guests. Yoongi would never understand such type of zeal with food.
When Seokjin finishes chewing, he wipes the grease off his lips with a table napkin. “Where did you go? Your mom was looking for you.” He says with a regal air, back set straight in his seat like he’s been trained to do ever since he was younger. It’s as if he wasn’t the person that was scarfing down all of the food in his plate all at once from earlier.
“Bathroom.” Yoongi says, and Seokjin nods in understanding.
“Your mom tried to set you up again?” he says, conversational, as if they’re just talking about the weather (in which case, it just might be as common as saying “hi” before striking up a conversation since Yoongi’s mom has done this so many times, it’s not even news anymore). “Ah, and you went in hiding.”
“I didn’t go in ‘hiding’. I’m not a coward.” Yoongi frowns, and he stares at the table in front of him. He should just probably stand up and get some food to busy himself, but he kind of doesn’t want to leave now. “I was just avoiding confrontation.”
Seokjin raises a perfect eyebrow at him and stabs the steak before bringing it up close to his face. “And look, this is medium rare. Half-cooked, like your lame excuses.”
Yoongi frowns at him. He’s known Seokjin for a long time to know that although Seokjin is the nice, caring type, he could also be really noisy at times (especially when someone tries to cock block his dad joke streak) and he provides the “S” in sass (all three of them). “I’m going to punch you in the face until you can’t say any of your dad jokes anymore.”
“So you can be the new king of dad jokes? Never.” Seokjin says, taking a big bite from the steak.
There’s a sound of someone clearing their throat, and Yoongi looks up at front, momentarily distracted, where a bald man in a brown tuxedo is standing. Yoongi vaguely remembers him as the host for the night, and he glances back at Seokjin to roll his eyes at the older. “I clearly don’t remember you being declared as the king of dad jokes, hyung.”
The host is starting to thank the guests and is saying something about a performance, but Yoongi doesn’t hear it clearly because of Seokjin’s protests. “I’ll have you know that I out-dad joked the real dads around our neighbourhood and that they acknowledge and respect me.”
Yoongi simply shrugs in response and lets his eyes wander back up front, the noises of Seokjin’s further claims of needing Yoongi to affirm his position as Gangnam district’s “King of Dad Jokes” disappearing into background noise when he sees a bright-eyed boy standing in the middle, holding the microphone tightly in his hands. The host gives him a pat on the back and a thumbs-up and he visibly relaxes a bit, exhaling. When he smiles, Yoongi’s breath hitches up in his throat—he doesn’t recognize who this boy is, but that smile stirs up something inside of him—memories from a childhood long forgotten; memories brought back from Daegu, when his father earned a mere few thousand won a month from repairing old appliances.
Except that time, the boy that was smiling up at him had big, bright, doe-like eyes and bunny teeth that showed up whenever he smiled. Except that time, he was ten and stupid and so eager to make the kid who moved in with his family from Busan. Except that time, Yoongi had his fair share of crushes and first loves and leaving without turning back.
Except that time, Yoongi had first felt the tugs of a heartbreak on his heartstrings.
But now, he feels the oncomings of an older feeling buried deep in his chest resurfacing, and he feels like it’s new again even when he’s left it out for years and years, thinking that he wouldn’t have to hurt if he didn’t let himself feel.
There’s a sound of a piano instrumental playing from the speakers, and the boy licks his lips and lets his smile fall, letting a more serious look settle on his features before singing along to the first few notes of the song. It’s a song that Yoongi recognizes as one of the new tracks that Hoseok helped produced. Last time he checked though, the song wasn’t finished yet as they didn’t have a lyricist to fill in for the melody that was already there, but now, as he listens to the deep, soothing voice of this boy singing about sorrows, he thinks, it all fits perfectly.
“Ah, is this what love at first sight looks like?” Seokjin muses from beside him, but Yoongi ignores his hyung, eyes still fixed on the boy in front of him. He looks fairly young and the timbre of his voice definitely doesn’t match that face. The sadness he’s portraying through the song doesn’t match with the offhanded smile that was stretched out on his lips earlier either, and yet he captures the essence of the song perfectly, emotions coursing well in his voice.
Yoongi doesn’t even realize that the performance has come to an end until the boy gives a small smile and bows to the crowd, grin spreading wider on his lips as the crowd breaks out into a loud applause.
Yoongi’s mom sits on the chair beside him as the boy makes his way back to his table, like she knows how to perfectly time things, and leans in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “Cute, isn’t he?”
Yoongi lets his lips form into a thin line. “Mom.”
“Hi, Mrs. Min.” Seokjin nods from beside Yoongi, and she throws him a genuine smile, laced with familiarity.
“Hi Seokjin. I hope you wouldn’t mind me taking your friend here.” Yoongi stares at her. Taking? Where the fuck is she taking him?
“Of course not, Mrs. Min.” Seokjin smiles back at her and makes a gesture with his hand. Great—first Namjoon doesn’t arrive, and now Seokjin is selling him to his mom. Fucking traitors, Yoongi mumbles to himself. He wonders if it’s too late now to have a change of friends.
“C’mon now, I knew you’d like him.” She’s grinning now, and Yoongi knows that whenever that type of grin comes up, it’s because she has something up her sleeve. He doesn’t like it—he doesn’t like it one bit. “I’m going to introduce you two now.” She says, and she’s already standing up, tugging at his hand for him to do the same. “What are you still doing there? Let’s go!”
“Why.”
His mom rolls his eyes at him but she doesn’t budge and tugs on his arm. At this point, he doesn’t know who’s younger between the two of them. “I told you I’d introduce you to Mrs. Kim’s son, right? That was him. Kim Taehyung. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”
That’s the problem—Yoongi does remember. And he remembers something else, too.
“I’m not going.” Yoongi says, stubborn as ever. He feels a nudge from beside him and of course, it’s Seokjin.
“You know your mom. If you don’t move she’s going to haul your ass up there even if her bones start creaking. Now wouldn’t that be more embarrassing?” Seokjin has a point, but that doesn’t mean Yoongi has to love it.
Still, though, he has the perfect idea of what could happen if Yoongi continues to be stubborn, so he lets his pride down a notch and stands up, letting his mother drag him to where the Kims are seated.
He recognizes Mrs. Kim from earlier, and aside from the boy, there are also two younger kids from earlier—a boy and a girl—and they seem to be enjoying talking to their brother animatedly about a show.
“Sunhee, he got back.” His mom says in lieu of a greeting to Mrs. Kim, and the other woman claps her hands together in delight and stands up, eyes shining.
“Taehyung-ah, he’s here.” Mrs. Kim says, calling the attention of her eldest son, and the boy turns to glance at them with a distracted look on his face, another offhanded smile on his lips.
Mrs. Kim walks over to them and says something, voice soft, and the younger kids turn to each other to continue the talk amongst themselves in hushed voices. Taehyung stands up, throwing them one last fond look before he’s walking towards Yoongi and his mom.
“Good evening, Mrs. Min, Yoongi-ssi.” He bows down at them, and Yoongi almost forgot to bow back as a show of respect because he keeps staring at Taehyung’s face.
“Good evening to you too, Taehyung. My, you’re such a dashing young man.” Yoongi’s mom says, and Yoongi swallows when Taehyung turns to give him a smile in regard after thanking his mom for the compliment.
“My Yoongi here is—“she starts to say, but then Yoongi holds her wrist lightly.
“Mom, it’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” He says in a low whisper, and his mom gives him a disdainful look in response.
“The last time you said you’d take care of it, you ended up going home with a black eye on your face instead of a boyfriend and I had to blacklist someone from the company.” She says, exasperated, but when he gives her a pleading look, she sighs in acceptance.
“We’ll leave you two to chat.” She says, and Mrs. Kim gets the idea right away, letting herself get dragged along by Yoongi’s mom to another table, where other older people are gathered.
Yoongi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and sits down, feeling something ease in his chest. The boy—Taehyung, he remembers—sits down on the seat beside him without being prompted, and he gives Yoongi a bright, slightly unnerving smile.
“They were trying to set us up, weren’t they?” he says, so close to Yoongi’s ear that Yoongi jumps in his seat in surprise. Taehyung chuckles. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to surprise you. But you looked cute.”
Yoongi feels his ears flush in embarrassment. “I’m not cute,” he mumbles, but before Taehyung could ask him what it was, he’s already clearing his throat. “Yeah, you’re right. One of my mom’s obsessions these days is trying to get me involved in a relationship.”
Taehyung’s ears perk up in interest, his face lighting up. His eyes widen a fraction, shining as if there were constellations in there, and if there is something that Yoongi liked, it’s looking at the stars. “Like a hobby?”
“Yeah, she’s turned this into a hobby.”
“You don’t hate it?” Taehyung inquires, leaning closer. “Yoongi…hyung? Can I call you Yoongi hyung?”
Yoongi doesn’t like being called by people he isn’t familiar with in a way that makes them seem close, but it doesn’t feel wrong when it’s Taehyung who’s calling him hyung. “Yeah,” he nods, once. “You can call me hyung. And of course I hate it. It’s not fun being dragged along by your mom so she could introduce you to a practical stranger, expecting that you two would hit it off and marry each other.”
Taehyung purses his lips. There’s a difference in the look in his eyes now from the one that was there previously, and he licks his lips as if to prepare himself for whatever he was going to say. “So, you don’t like… this?” he vaguely gestures to the both of them, and if Yoongi was a little bit slower, he wouldn’t have understood that Taehyung meant to ask if he didn’t like the two of them being set up like this.
Yoongi regards him with a tilt of the head. “If you hate it, I wouldn’t want it either. I don’t want anyone being forced to do something because of me. But if you’re okay with it, then I’m fine, I guess.”
There’s a small smile playing on Taehyung’s lips now. “Actually, it was me who asked my mom to introduce me to you.”
Oh. “Oh.” Just…oh. Yoongi doesn’t know how to react to that. How would he even react to getting hinted at by the person in front of him that he’s interested? Definitely probably not with just an “oh”.
“We could try things out, if you want.” Taehyung says, slowly, like he’s afraid Yoongi would run away because he’s being too forward.
But Yoongi doesn’t want to run away—he wants to stay. He keeps his feet rooted firmly to the ground, and props his elbows up on his thighs, leaning closer to Taehyung. “Yeah, we should.”
Later, when everyone’s gone home and Yoongi’s lying on his bed still wearing his clothes and shoes from the party, tired from the events for the whole day, his phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.
There’s a lot of emojis coming from a number that he’s saved in his contacts as Taehyung’s, and just when he’s about to type in a reply, his phone beeps again in notification.
“Goodnight, hyung” the message says—far too gentle from the sudden flurry of emojis that Yoongi’s gotten before it.
Yoongi recalls Taehyung’s bright smile and his loud laughter, and the way he can’t seem to stay still or stick to just one topic. He thinks about how he practically hates noise but finds Taehyung adorable still, and how, when Seokjin had remarked that he had probably fallen in love with the kid right off the bat, he didn’t feel the need to correct him.
“Goodnight to you too, brat.” Yoongi replies, letting his phone drop beside him.
Maybe he doesn’t hate parties that much, after all.