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There had been many things Seokjin assumed about the one and only Min Yoongi through all their years of friendship.
Early in the days, when they were still pubescent teenagers filled to the brim with angry, self-indulging and very horny making hormones, Seokjin always thought Yoongi was still wearing braces during the nights - or how could this boy have such cute little, but very straight teeth?
Talking about straight - he also assumed this about Yoongi, not knowing that behind the face of a doll and the eyes of a wildcat lies the craziest bisexual monster the world’s ever encountered, ready to tear off the clothes of any person and make good use of the so-called tongue technology.
Yeah, Seokjin had been a bit slow on that part. He should have known better. Especially after seeing Yoongi vanishing into the locker rooms followed by the lanky maniac with the big ears and even bigger eyes from the basketball team - Park Chanyeol - and then coming back with rosy cheeks and a satisfied grin on his even pinker lips.
He should have known better about the straight part, honestly.
Later, Seokjin always assumed Yoongi would shift the world and do absolutely anything to become a producer, an artist, music running through his veins - and he had been wrong once again.
Yoongi decided that architecture would be the better option and music should stay what it is - a passion and something fun.
“If I go and study music production than it might become a chore and that’s definitely not what I want,” He had told Seokjin when he visited his friend in their old hometown just to grab some beer and chicken.
When Yoongi asked him that night if they wanted to become roommates during their college years and they settled that this might be the greatest idea ever, Seokjin assumed Yoongi would be a quiet sort of roomie just to find out later that in fact, Yoongi was not quiet in the safety of their own four walls. He wasn’t really loud per se, but Seokjin always knew if Yoongi was home or out and about. He could sense his little steps in the living room, music echoing through the rooms or coffee brewing in the kitchen.
It’s not that all of Seokjin’s assumptions about the slightly younger man had been wrong. On the contrary, most of them were absolutely right. He had assumed Yoongi would love whiskey once he’d become older, which he does with such a passion, Seokjin sometimes wonders if the other should have become a tester and travel to Scottland and Ireland instead of sketching buildings and do mathematics. Yes, Seokjin doesn’t really know what architects do during their working hours. He assumed Yoongi would platonically fall head over heels for Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok, two boys Seokjin met at the library one day during his job, and he had been damn right about it. Same goes for the younger ones, the soulmates and their little puppy.
Since ‘Seokjin and Yoongi; Yoongi and Seokjin, Yoonjin, KimMin, the grandpas on tour’ became a group of seven people with too much appetite (Jungkook), a clumsy but very endearing nature (Namjoon) and too much energy to sit still for more than three seconds (Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung), Yoongi never stopped including all of them in their activities. Sometimes, he even sounds like one of those disgusting couples who aren’t able to do anything without each other anymore, “We can’t come to Karen’s party this Saturday because we have our red week, you know?!”
Seokjin had been friends with such a couple once, never again. Never.
Another thing Seokjin assumed about Yoongi had been that the other would love to sit on the floor in their little kitchen, right where the sun shines through the window and casts warm patches of light on the wooden floor, while he sips his late afternoon coffee and listens to music. He had been absolutely right about it. Right after the first week in their shared apartment, Seokjin found him lazing around on the floor in the sunlight, clutching his coffee to his chest and looking like a very smug and sleepy cat.
But this? No, never.
How should he have known that the one and only Min Yoongi would blush like a bashful maiden when showered with the worst pickup lines on this planet? No one ever told him, no one thought about informing Seokjin about this discovery, and when he finally discovered it on his own, he couldn’t let go.
It happens like this:
All seven of them meet up at the new LGBTQ+ bar near Itaewon to have some drinks and to chat and just enjoy the evening after a long week full of university courses, part-time jobs and ignoring their parents’ phone calls.
The bar is rather fancy with blue and pink neon lights and crystal-like barstools, and they have enough fun to collective decide that coming back one day might not sound too bad when a young man with bleached hair and muscles so thick, Seokjin is surprised that his shirt still holds on to his body, comes up to them.
“You’ve got some really pretty Girls Generation legs,” The stranger says with a suggestive glance at Yoongi’s thighs and he twirls the little umbrella of his pink and yellow drink between his fingers.
“Wha-?!” Yoongi splutters and looks over his shoulders, probably hoping the man doesn’t mean him but someone behind them, but when he realises that the man talks to him, he carefully looks down and to his own legs.
“Your legs,” The guy nods eagerly and shifts closer, still eyeing Yoongi’s thin thighs, “They would look pretty cute in stockings.”
Yoongi’s eyes turn enormous and round, and Seokjin almost snorts his own vodka-mango mixture out of his nose, lifting the glass to hide the upcoming laughter behind his own colourful cocktail umbrella.
“No, really,” The Stranger says earnestly when they hear a faint giggle from their left side - probably Jimin and Hoseok hiding in Taehyung’s shoulder and trying to muffle their laughter.
The guy’s eyes roam over Yoongi’s lith body with something like passion, kinda like a dog seeing one of those squeaky toys, and he adds, “So pretty and doll-like.”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi mutters with dark pink cheeks, one hand coming up to rub the probably heated skin on his neck and he steps a bit closer to Namjoon, who’s already lifting the little turquoise umbrella from his cocktail like a weapon - ready to defend.
However, before Namjoon can plant the little toothpick end of the umbrella into the guy’s eyes or balls, Yoong starts in a voice dark that is so completely different from the pretty and almost delicate kind of appearance he has, “Listen, mate, thanks for the compliment, I think, but I’m so not interested.”
The beefy guy looks around as if he sees the other six guys next to Yoongi for the very first time, and then he shrugs with a modest grin, lifting his drink as to toast to them, “No harm done, but your legs are still beautiful.”
With that, he winks at them and turns around to walk away, vanishing into the steadily increasing crowd of the dance floor, and only after he’s completely out of sight, Namjoon lets go of his umbrella again, while Jimin and Hoseok are clinging to both Taehyung and Jungkook, howling with laughter.
“Girls Generation legs,” Jungkook repeats with a teasing voice, eyes shining bright.
“Yah,” Yoongi shouts, blushing even darker in the dim lights, “I’m your hyung, so be a bit more respectful.”
“Damn right, Jungkook-ah, be more respectful,” Seokjin steps closer, grinning at his friends and then adds, “At least mention that they would look pretty in stockings again.”
“Oh my god, I can’t with you guys,” Yoongi mutters and turns to get himself another drink, purposefully ignoring Taehyung’s and Jimin’s call to get them another too.
And that’s how it started.
Tiny little, “Do you have an extra heart? Because mine was stolen,” kind of pickup lines when they stand in their kitchen, both with puffy cheeks and eagerly waiting for the coffee to finish just because Seokjin gets all warm and fluffy when he sees the pinkish blush spreading from Yoongi’s chest up to his ears and turning him into a stammering, bright pink mess.
Yoongi, how had always been so composed, blank face and unrevealing eyes, suddenly turns into an open book of fluttered shame and second-hand embarrassment. It brings Seokjin so much joy to see him stumbling over his next words when he interrupts the younger just to say, “You must be a campfire. Because you’re super hot and I want s’more,” while they have their monthly gaming night - Uno, Scrabble and Cards Against Humanity standing next to some beer and Goguma Kkang and Pepero Sticks.
They’ve always liked to tease each other, always had fun to make the other as uncomfortable as possible until the one being teased gave up and begged the other to “Please stop it already, I do almost everything you want.”
It mostly resulted in doing the dishes for a week straight or getting some chocolate and fried chicken at 3 am on a Sunday.
This time, however, it feels a bit different for Seokjin. This time, he doesn’t want fried chicken at 3 am, but simply uses the worst pickup lines of the worst pickup lines to let go of years of pent up romantic and sexual frustration.
Because every time Seokjin says something like, “I’m writing a term paper on the finer things in life, and I was wondering if I could interview you,” or “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you’ve got fine written all over you!” he kind of means it.
Not in a cheesy and cringe way, but in a “Goddammit, I am so in love with you since you grinned at me with your little gummy smile when we were seventeen and I seriously wanna snog you ‘til next year, marry you, have three kittens and maybe a puppy, a house if we’re financially stable enough and I want to lick all over your skin just to clarify that you’re mine, mine, mine.”
Seokjin had always been very fond of Yoongi, really, since the moment they met, and maybe he’s always kinda been in love with him too. Yet, when they met, being gay and wanting to be with boys had been unspeakable. The internalised homophobia so strong it took Seokjin years to get rid of the guilt whenever he kissed another guy and enjoyed being just himself.
And deeper feelings for Yoongi, the little more developed over time. It might have started with the endearing grin when they were seventeen but then changed into something more, something heavier, almost looming over their heads.
It changed with them moving in together and Seokjin finding that he seriously doesn’t mind hearing all those little Yoongi-noises in the apartment, always knowing he’s there. It changed with shared coffee cups in one of their beds during Saturday nights when they were too tired to go out, but still had too many papers to read for their classes and snuggling up next to each other felt so much better than sitting on their desks and trying to study in an old-fashioned way.
It changed when they made a home in Seoul in a tiny three-room apartment and with five other guys as their family when they took responsibilities such as picking a Taehyung up from a party or listen to Namjoon’s mental breakdowns over his papers at 2 in the morning, phone on a video call and teacups in their hands.
And it changed when Yoongi brought the first hook-up home, door to his room banging shut and then the only sounds carrying through the flat had been muffled moans and deep grunts of pleasure. The jealousy Seokjin felt that day had been all-consuming and almost eating him alive. It had been so bad he did something he’d never done before - he spoke to someone and that someone had been Jimin, the unlucky bastard who texted him merely seconds earlier to ask him something.
Talking to someone about his feelings for Yoongi didn’t change the fact that they are still there, but it calmed the storm inside Seokjin’s gut and heart a bit, a little less all-consuming.
“You should tell him,” Jimin whispers to him one day after Seokjin asked Yoongi if he wants to be the cream to his Latte when they’re in their usual coffee shop to study together.
Blushing almost as bright as Yoongi, who jumped up from his seat after hearing Seokjin’s pickup line and went to the counter to get another shot of espresso into his coffee, Seokjin shakes his head, “Certainly not!”
Jimin sighs quietly, shaking his head as if this is the greatest tragedy since the fall of Troy, and whispers furiously, “Seriously, Hyung, you should talk to him.”
“I can’t,” Seokjin stage whispers back, already feeling his heart racing when only thinking about telling Yoongi about his feelings, “This is not an option.”
“It’s the only option,” Jimin hisses back, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazing with fire, “You’re gonna tell him or - “
He stops, looking over his book to the counter where Yoongi pays for his extra shot and turns to come back to them and, “Or I will.”
“You will not!” Seokjin raises a warning finger, shouting out a bit too loud and attracts the attention from Namjoon and Jungkook on the other side of the table and then he says far quieter, “I didn’t raise you to stab me in the back, Park Jimin.”
“You’ll tell him or I will,” Jimin ignores him with a fierce glance, slowly flipping the pages of his biochem book and lifting the marker to note something, “You’re hurting him with your pickup lines.”
Before Seokjin can say anything, ask what exactly Jimin means by it, Yoongi comes back to the table, settling right next to Taehyung and unlocks his iPad. He’s still a bit pink, but his lips are pressed into a hard line and Seokjin wonders if it is because of the art project he has for his finals or because Jimin is right and his pickup lines hurt Yoongi’s feelings.
Can it be that Jimin is right and if so, why does a nicely said, “You must be exhausted. You’ve been running through my mind all day,” hurt Yoongi’s feelings?
They’re home on Friday after classes and cuddling in Yoongi’s bed. Yoongi always changes the sheets on Friday mornings after getting up and with the soft scent of their fabric softener as well as the sun shining through the big window and casting their room into a gentle gold, Friday afternoons are always best spent in Yoongi’s bed.
While Seokjin wrapped all his limbs around the younger man and only breathes, ear flat against the hard chest and when he’s completely still, he can hear Yoongi’s heart. The other lies on his back, phone in his hand, and tries to read a paper for his classes.
One of Yoongi’s hands caresses the back of Seokjin’s neck, and it takes all his strength not to purr and press into the touch even more.
His conversation with Jimin was only a few days ago, and he still wonders. Maybe he should ask and get it over with, maybe he should do as Jimin told him and just confess his feelings.
“Yoongichi?” he whispers, squeezing his eyes closed and waits for the affirmative humming, “Kiss me if I’m wrong. But dinosaurs still exist, right?”
It’s a silly line, childish, cute, and Seokjin thinks even if the other doesn’t like him that way, a last funny pickup line won’t hurt them, but then Yoongi’s fingers stop petting him. He stops breathing and the heart under Seokjin’s ear begins to hammer, race like crazy in Yoongi’s chest.
Slowly, Seokjin sits up, leans on one of his arms and looks at his best friend. He’s pink, pink ears, pink cheeks and it is so pretty, Seokjin wants to lean down again and kiss his flushed kiss, wants to feel if his skin will be hot under his lips, but when he sees Yoongi’s eyes, all hard and angry, he stops, “Yoongi?”
His friend squeezes them shut, teeth nibbling at his lips before he replies, “Can you please stop this?”
“What?”
“The pickup lines, the shitty flirting,” Yoongi says and slowly opens his eyes again, still hard and kind of filled with emotions, “I do everything you want, just stop it already.”
“But I don’t want anything,” Seokjin whispers, unsure and hurt, and feeling like an idiot, because Jimin told him. Now, underneath the blush and the rosy cheeks, he can see the hurt and the pent-up emotions and that Yoongi feels so incredibly uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” He adds, sitting up and moving away from his friend, making room to breathe and to watch Yoongi slowly sitting up as well.
They share an uncomfortable glance, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to do, what to say to make this better, because he doesn’t know why it is a problem for Yoongi.
“It’s ok,” The smaller says, nibbling at his bottom lip again and nervously flipping his phone in his hands, “It’s just - “
He stops, and that’s something new. Even though they rarely talk about their feelings and never get quite mushy and open up, they never hesitated. Yoongi never hesitated to call him out on his bullshit, and Seokjin never hesitated to tell him anything on his mind. It stings to see that this might have changed in recent months, and Seokjin wonders why and how it happened.
Maybe he should tell him in intelligible words that the pickup lines, although stupid and cringe, kinda mean something and that they’re not a joke. He’s scared because there is always the possibility that Yoongi will not want to stay friends and that they will hurt and lose their friendship, the small family they’ve created.
Jimin is probably right and he should just tell Yoongi about his feelings, but when he opens his mouth to say something, Yoongi interrupts him with a rushed, “Jimin said I should finally confess to you. I like the pickup lines, but I like you and you saying them as a joke hurt me.”
“What?”
He couldn’t have heard correctly, right? It couldn’t be that Yoongi means what Seokjin heard.
“Yoongi?”
“I said I like you and the pickup lines hurt me because I can’t bear the joke anymore,” Yoongi whispers in a rush, even redder than before, and it finally hits Seokjin.
Yoongi likes him too, maybe he’s not in love with him like he is, but Yoongi likes him. He wants to reach out and touch Yoongi, and that’s what he does. One of Seokjin’s hands reach out and his long fingers curl around Yoongi’s ankle, the only thing close enough to actually touch, and he squeezes him lightly, and feeling the warmth of his skin is so reassuring that Seokjin finally finds the strength to say what he should have said years ago, “I mean them, all of them. I’m in love with you, Yoongichi.”
“You are..?” Yoongi looks so small in his oversized jumper with his big, hopeful eyes that Seokjin can’t do more than nod at him.
“Jimin always said I should tell you, but you never seemed like you would...” He hiccups and that finally makes Seokjin move forward, curling his arms around Yoongi as gentle as possible, “Like you could love me.”
“I’ve always loved you,” Seokjin mumbles and rubs his nose against Yoongi’s temple, breathing in the familiar scent of home, fresh sheets and basil and lemon and listens to his tiny sniffling, and maybe he shouldn’t but, they know each other long enough that he is sure, Yoongi will believe him and not think this is a joke, “Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”
Yoongi stills once again and then groans loudly, one fist hitting Seokjin’s chest, but he can hear him chuckling, “No, you didn’t.”
“I did, and I will do them until I used all of them,” Seokjin says and gently angles his head to place a soft kiss at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth, “I mean it, I’m really in love with you.”
“Good,” Yoongi mutters back and then pushes up to kiss him back, soft lips parting under Seokjin’s, “Because I want our love to be like the number Pi: irrational and never-ending.”