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Chapter Text

The countdown to your personal ‘ Doomsday’ –as you dramatically wrote on the calendar- started last September with a letter that screamed ‘danger!’ since you noticed the sender: Kim Taehyung.

You felt guilty just by reading his name, while these last four years made of missed phone calls, forgotten messages and never-sent-letters cascaded on your shoulder all at once, to the point where you almost threw it in the trash.  However, boosted by your curiosity -and for that thin voice that whispered you: if you don’t like what you read, you can pretend you never received it - you finally opened it:

‘Since you skipped my graduation and all my birthdays, it’d be a huge honor to have you at my wedding. It’s on the 21 st April. C’mon (Y/N), you’ve got eight months to come up with a new good excuse to stand me up. Surprise me!’

You admit you laughed. You also admit that you immediately started to search for a good pretense that could permit you to avoid this torture; you weren’t emotionally or mentally equipped to open again a bracket of your life you thought locked for a long time. On the other hand, the simple thought that Taehyung would never forgive you for not being there during the most important and special day of his life made you panic, so you hadn’t any brainwave in the next months -spent in a mixture of joy and anxiousness-.

‘It’s just for a few days and then I’ll go back to my usual life,’ you repeated yourself like a mantra.

And when the time to close your small flat in Seoul came, you put on that perfect smile you practiced yourself to wear in these months only to let them see that never, not even for a second, you felt sorry for leaving Daegu.

You catch a breath and grip the bag tightly when you get off the taxi, breathing deeply the morning air of that city that for many years it’s been the scenery of every little event of your existence.

A cascade of bittersweet memories locked in a closet of your mind comes pouring out when you look around the bustling area, the attention caught by the bus just stopped on the other side of the street: it’s the 724 and you used to take it to go to school or to the centre, side by side to a small bean with odd dyed hair who slept all the time, resting his head on your shoulder.

Actually... one regret about Daegu exists, and you’re going to meet him soon.

Your heart beats faster when you replay in your head the only scene you always think of when someone asks you about this place: sweaty hands holding yours, bottom lip taught between white teeth, short blond hair smooth like silk, droopy liquid brown eyes engulfing into yours…

The last time you tread these few meters, the only boy you freely let step into your life hugged you tightly, before whispering in your ear with a cracked voice that Daegu would never be the same without you.

His name was Min Yoongi, he was your best friend, a failed love… And you didn’t hear from him since you abandoned this place.

Taehyung’s home is five minutes by foot from your own, but it takes you more than twenty minutes to see the brick building where you used to play hide and seek. You’ve stopped more than once along the way, paralyzed by the simple awareness that you’re going to sink again in his long almond eyes; but eventually, you’ve forced yourself to not call a taxi and so here you are, staring at the entrance while a mild queasiness starts brewing in your stomach.

When you ring the doorbell, you’re still in your own world, repeating yourself all those small talks prepared on the way: ‘Hi Tae! Good to see you! So you're finally getting married! Me? I’m doing great! I’m so sorry I haven’t been so in touch but you know how it goes: my job requires so much time that—Oh, I’d really like to stay a bit more but I think I left the oven on in Seoul—!’

Taehyung’ deformed shape through the rippled glass door approaching you shuts your mental babble up, and in the exact instant he opens, your mind becomes a wasteland.

“Who—” words get trapped in his lungs as his stare widens.

In all these months, you’ve believed this was as good a way as any for Tae to get back at you for swiping your friendship under the carpet. So you're prepared to face whatever comes next:  tomatoes and eggs on your face, a door slammed on your nose…

“(Y/N)! Oh God, it's you! It's really you!”

… But that unexpected smile now shining on his face catches you off guard.

You raise a hand. “Hi Tae, it’s good— Uho !”

The boy wraps you into a bone-crushing hug, so tight that you can barely sense the ground beneath your feet. “You’re here!” he pulls apart, squeezing your shoulders. “I was starting to believe you’d call me and invented an excuse, as usual!”

“I couldn’t find a good one in seven months, I doubt I could’ve done it in five minutes,” you admit, jokingly, following him inside.

He gets your jacket off and hangs it over the hanger, glancing at you with a light smirk. “So…”

You let your sweaty fingers crawl on your knees. “So… You’re getting married.”

“It seems so.”

A veil of embarrassment falls upon you and it’s too thick to be ripped with a warm smile or a ‘sorry’. All the apologizes whirling in your mind until today lose meaning now that he’s here before you, in flesh and bones, scanning you with a kind of stare you can’t interpret anymore.

Then, that same force that was almost making you go back home, makes its way into your whole body and climbs up your throat, opening your mouth way before you could think of something logical to say. “Tae, listen. Forgive me for being a kind of ghost in these years, I—“

“Don’t!” he presses a finger on your stretched lips. “Tonight, I don’t wanna hear anything.” His smile widens. “I’ll pretend nothing happened. Today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” He giggles. “And I’ve got a week to get back at you for being a disaster.”

After a brief moment of astonishment, you exhale a small chuckle. “I’m cool with it.”

You were so scared that he could be mad at you to forget a simple tiny thing: he’s about to take an important step in his life and you’re finally here, living this moment with him; that’s what counts the most.

Tae rests an arm around your shoulders and guides you into the small dining room full of parents and friends –his mother almost killed you with her tight hug and an avalanche of questions, first of all: “Why is a beauty like you here without a boyfriend?”, ugh!- but amidst all those unfamiliar faces, the only one you’re curious (and frightened) to see is nowhere to be found.

You wonder how Yoongi will react when the pair of you will finally meet.

You admit you often fancied bumping into him in Seoul: while being at the store, in the subway, while drinking a coffee on your way home… Yet it never happened, and it assumed slowly but steadily the shape of a fantasy comparable to the billions you had when you were younger -in which you met your favorite singer and lived with him exciting adventures-.

Anyway, you aren’t here for him. You’re here for the marvelous man beside you and for his gorgeous half on the other side of the room, busy chatting with some relatives. You wave at her, when she pinpoints you next to a table full of sandwiches and sweets, and she catapults over you, wrapping her thin arms around you.

“(Y/N)! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Me too.” You hug her back. “Congratulations!”

Euna is beautiful as the last day you saw her, with a jumpsuit on and a luggage full of souvenirs bought in Seoul. You thought she was just another fleeting soul in Tae’s universe –if your love life has always been catastrophic, he’s always been a step ahead- and now she’s here, showing you her engagement ring.

“Well well.” You smirk. “Looks like someone’s making money here.” You give him a sidelong glance.

Tae shoves back his brownish hair. “Only the best for the wife-to-be of the ‘ Calvin Klein’s diamond’ .”

You grimace. “Oh, shut up. Kim WooBin’s more handsome.” You grin when he tries to retort. “Aha, today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” The left corner of your mouth quirks up as he curses between his teeth before making his rounds with the guests, leaving you two chitchat.

You focus on Euna, now busy recounting every aspect of their wedding. She’s so enthusiastic you’re almost forgetting where you are, how much time passed, how many things you lost willingly…

You’re about to think that there was no need to spend so many sleepless nights finding an excuse to skip this event, that she abruptly says: “Tae told me about Seokjin. I’m so sorry…” and you immediately wish for this week to end instantly. “I can’t believe he left you after all these years! What a jerk…” she huffs, tucking her long dark hair behind the ears.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine…” you twiddle with your bracelets. “And, anyway, I’ve someone. I got a cat named Mochi and believe me, he’s better than a man: he’s silent, sweet, he doesn’t get me mad. He’s a bit dumb but still lovable,” you conclude with a rather unsuccessful attempt of a smile, at which she responds with a dim one.

She’s about to reply but the doorbell ring saves you from an awkward conversation.

“Gees, he’s always late.” She looks heavenward.

“Who?”

“Yoongi, of course!” She puts her hands on her hips, smirking at the guy who just walked in, bjsy bickering with Tae. “You’re late!”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the alarm clock.”

You stiffen at the sound of a voice  raspier than you remembered, and the sight of the boy standing in the doorway snaps you back to reality.

‘Yoongi…’

You barely think his name, scared that he might disappear only pronouncing it out loud...

He seems a bit dazed, as soon as his eyes lay on you, but he eventually manages to say: “Hi (Y/N)…” while a dim smile etches itself on his face.

The blond-haired boy of your adolescence has eclipsed behind a tall man with broader shoulders, messy raven hair with an undercut and more masculine features. The only unchanged thing is his eyes: droopy, coffee-like, with a glint of sweetness that scratches their indifference in the exact instant they engulf into yours, wide and liquid -if it wasn’t for them, you’d swear he’d be one of the handsome Tae’s co-workers…

His stare softens when he notices you’re torturing your bracelets. “You look good.”

You rack your brain frantically to think of something to say, but you can only mutter: “Yeah… You too.”

He brushes past you and his good fresh scent almost makes your legs tremble, like leaves in the wind. He rolls up his chequered sleeves sloppily, then he pulls back his hair…

Where the hell did he hide all this sexiness when you were neighbors?!

“(Y/N)?”

“Eh?” you blink. Oh, God, did he notice you were gawking at him?! “W-what?”

“I asked you how you’re doing in Seoul,” Yoongi repeats, giving you a glass full of you-don’t-know-what-it-is-but-let’s-hope-it’ll-get-you-drunk-soon. “I know you work for Vogue’s Korea .”

“Oh, yes… I’m just a secretary, though. But it’s pretty cool! I’m going to San Francisco’s for Victoria’s Secret showroom next month!” you exclaim, and Yoongi watches you with that endearing smile he always wore whenever you babbled about your dreams or projects.

“I’m glad for you.”

He changed so much from the sad boy you left in front of his home with the pledge to call him every day -and the odd thing is that he looks at you as if you’ve kept your promise-that you’d like to submerge him with questions and discover a bit of his life.

However, Tae’s mother interrupts you with the plea to take a photo of you three together because “It’s been ages since you were all reunited!” and you can’t help but tenderly smile while she bickers with Tae. Then, she shoves you between those you once used to call ‘My Daegu boys’ -two men now so distant from you that you really don’t know what kind of box you should put them in.

On one side, there’s Taehyung, a friend who constantly kept you updated about the news in his life. On the other side, instead, there’s a grown-up Yoongi of whom you practically don’t know anything.

You only know your heart flips in your chest whenever your eyes meet, just like it did when you were two friends spending your nights having long pillow talks... and this is not a good sign.

Despite every prediction, the party goes on fast and smooth as silk and before you could realize it, you’re already heading back home in the silent street, glancing at all those colored signs covering the multi-storied buildings without really seeing them.

You replay this night endlessly, searching for the tiniest detail that could make you understand if Yoongi put on a façade of peacefulness only to not ruin Tae’s moment, or if he isn't truly bothered by your presence here.

You sigh, tightening more into your jacket.

You can’t stop wondering what might have been if you had kept in touch. You’ve always stated that nothing nor nobody could break a friendship like yours but despite your beliefs, just the distance has been enough to wreck it...

Why did you distance yourself from him so much?

“(Y/N)?” at the sound of your name –pronounced in an unmistakable way that shakes you up- you gaze over your shoulder, watching Yoongi come closer. “Are you running already away?”

You puff your cheeks. “I’m not!”

He lightly chuckles once beside you. “I’m joking.”  He jams his hands in his leather jacket pockets and takes a long pause. “Tae was scared you wouldn’t have come, you know?” he finally says, giving you a sidelong glance.

You’d like to tell him: “What about you?” but you bite your tongue, focusing on your conversation. “I didn’t want to,” you admit, “We didn’t really stay in touch, I was surprised when he sent me the invitation. But I don’t still feel too comfortable, I’ll probably lock myself in my room until the wedding day.” You throw him a quick glance. “But I’m glad they thought of me, despite all,” you conclude, smiling genuinely while looking at your feet. “I’ll use these days as a break from work!”

He sags in his shoulders but a light grin still stays on his face. “Life in Seoul must be pretty hectic.”

“It is…” you nod, trying to scrape that sense of guilt now encrusting your heart. “What about you, instead?”

Yoongi seems somewhat taken aback by this question. “I’m fine. I’m a photographer for a magazine.”

“Oh, it’s true…” you nod. “Sorry for not coming to your graduation.”

“I didn’t come to yours too…” he moistens his lips. “Anyway, now I live in Ilsan with my girlfriend and—“

“Girlfriend?!” you squeak. “Holy God! Who is she? Where did you meet—“ you swallow back every question when the tip of his ears turns scarlet. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away…” you let out a nervous giggle, toying with your bracelets. “I really missed a lot of things over these past years.”  Your voice escapes more sad that you’d like for it to be, but fortunately he doesn't seem to take notice of it.

Yoongi shrugs. “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up.” He slows down the pace when the pair of you approach his home. “Good night, then.”

You nod, taking those few steps from your house to his. Then, as an electroshock just crossed your body, you whirl around to face him. “Yoongi?” you wait for him to look at you, sinking in his eyes veiled with curiosity. “It was nice to see you again.”

This is too formal for two people who’ve spent half their lives going through the roughest times together, but maybe you can’t expect more from someone who probably wasted his time next to a phone that never rang. In fact, Yoongi replies with a wave and enters the house, leaving you alone.

‘What did you expect? Fireworks, hugs and tears?’

When you scamper in your bedroom though, after preparing yourself to go to bed, a paper ball flies from the window, rolling on your bed.

Your eyes grow bigger when you open it:

‘When you want to play together, just whistle.’

You lift your head up, glancing at Yoongi’s window.

This is the same thing he wrote to you a few days after you moved to Daegu for your father’s promotion. You were so scared and angry that you never left your bedroom and you always grunted at your mother’s “Why don’t you go playing with the neighbor’s son? He’s nice.” because he wasn’t nice, he was… Strange . He always peeped at you from the window and every time you caught him staring, this small bean turned red and hid behind the curtains.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you, you were pretty scary,” he once admitted.

That day, you kept to yourself  that you still conserve that kind of paper airplane that established the begin of your friendship.

You smile, watching his shadow dancing along  his blue walls behind the thin white curtains.

Yoongi always knows how to make you feel at home.

You don’t see Yoongi until Tuesday.

It’s morning when you open the door and find him standing there, with a light shade of pink coloring his cheeks and a dim smile that slowly turns into a grin when he glances at your pajama or mad hair.

You’d like for a hole to open beneath your feet but eventually, you manage to mutter: “Yoongi?” crossing your arms on your chest to hide that embarrassing penguin print from his sight. “It's… nice to see you.”

It’s not like you’ve waited for him to visit you, but in these sleepless nights spent staring at his bedroom, you admit you’ve lowkey hoped for him to tap at your window just like he used to do when you were children. But the lights always turned off, making all your memories vanish into thin air.

It’s weird how easily things can change, from living in each other’s pockets to not saying more than a few sentences a year through dull texts, without feeling any gaping hole of absence.

“Yoongi isn’t mad at you. If he was, he’d already given you the cold threat at the party,” Tae told you the other morning, behind a mug full of tea you prepared for him. “He may be changed for many things but when it comes to you, I think he’s still the same. He always asked me about you and whenever I told him ‘(Y/N)’s happy’ he seemed truly relieved.”

“Do you need something?” your stare dances from his veiny hand scratching his neck, to the Rolex around his wrist, and finally lay on his eyes crinkling in the corner.

“I just wanted to make sure you won’t lock yourself in your bedroom until Sunday,” he jokes, drumming his fingers on his hips. “Actually, your mother asked me to invite you to go out a bit.” He sniffs. “She’s starting to mold on that sofa!” he mimics her with a high-pitched voice and you turn crimson. “So… I gotta go to the center. It won’t take me too long.”

You cast a glance at your outfit. “Better not. I’m a mess—“

“You look fine to me,” he interrupts, softly, scratching his hair when you furrow. “A pair of jeans and a shirt will do. Take all the time you want—But don’t take as much as you did when you had to go out with Hoseok.”

“Again?! It was my first date! I wanted to be beautiful—“

“Because the great Jung dude asked me out, every girl would scalp me right now, bla bla bla, I remember…” he pokes the tongue on his cheek. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Yoongi’s got the same expression he had when you were desperately searching for a decent dress to wear, electrified that the coolest boy in the entire school wanted to watch the last Spider-Man movie with you.

Now that you think about it, you don’t clearly remember how that date went. You only remember you came back home earlier than you expected, and Yoongi was waiting for you in front of his house, sat on the stairs. The only sight of his snapback, his reddish hair, and his oversized hoodie made you feel in the right place, a sensation you didn’t feel whenever Hoseok held your hand or looked at you with his beautiful genuine smile.

Out of the blue, Yoongi asked you if you two kissed and when you shook your head, he leaned out and sealed his mouth with yours, abruptly kidnapping you from the silent contemplation of the streetlamps.

Your first kiss felt strange and humid. It wasn’t really as you always fantasized while watching movies. The protagonists used to tilt their head, cup the partners’ faces … Instead, you were so stunned that you only closed your eyes, enjoying the odd sensation of your tongue slowly and clumsily caressing his own.

“It’s better that I’ve kissed you first. Or you’d have wasted it with someone who doesn’t even know you still make wishes on shooting stars,” he told you after inching away from you, hiding his scarlet face in the crook of your neck.

You always sensed that Yoongi felt something deeper for you but he never confessed and you never asked, too scared that your friendship could turn into something serious and get ruined as time passed by.

“I can’t believe it! You must be kidding me!” you stare at Yoongi’s phone. “You’re engaged with Aina Saito! No way!”

Yoongi grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, preventing you from smashing against a man coming in the opposite direction. “Why so surprised? Is she too beautiful for me?”

You gasp, feeling your ears charring. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… She’s one of Kenzo ’s models! How’d you react if I were married to Yoo Jitae?! You know how much I love him!”

“No. You just love his ass.”

“Of course I do. It seems so… made of marble,” you say and Yoongi bursts out laughing, holding tighter the plastic bag full of rolls of film for his camera –you’re in the twenty-first century and he’s probably the only photographer who doesn’t use digital cameras. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

You look at their picture. Even if she captures your attention with her raven hair and big doe hazel eyes, you can’t take your eyes off Yoongi: he’s got this sweet smile while she rests her head on his shoulder, and his odd purple hair or that cute black spotted tie doesn’t intact the elegance of the suit he’s wearing.

“Were you at some gala?”

He shakes his head. “My colleague’s wedding. I was the best man.” He squelches a chuckle. “It’s funny. Namjoon, that’s his name, well, he’s always been against marriage. Then one day he came to me and told me: ‘I’m getting married’ , and now he’s about to become a father.” He scratches the back of his nape. “Love really changes people.”

You narrow your brow. “Does this mean I should expect an imminent invitation to your wedding?”

Yoongi snaps his tongue. “Hey, don’t say it as if I were against it. You were!”

“And I still am!”

He gives you a serious sidelong glance, then he dimly smiles. “I remember you wanted a white dress, and a church full of daffodils.”

Sure. That was before your parents got divorced, your mother was devastated, and you discovered how comfortable the silence of your flat was.

“And end up like my mother? No, thanks…” you give him back the phone. “You two seem really happy. I’m glad for you. Will she come here for the wedding?”

Yoongi lightly nods. “She’s working these days.” He stares at the phone for a couple of seconds, then he puts it in his jeans pocket. Judging from his expression, he doesn’t seem intent on deepening the conversation but after such a revelation, you can’t restrain your curiosity.

“How did you meet?”

You can tell by the way he’s pushing his tongue on his cheek that he’s regretting carelessly letting you peer at his lock-screen. “I was in Tokyo for work, three years ago. My company hired me for the Puma campaign and once I’d been obliged to go to this stupid after-party. I spent the whole night at the bar and suddenly this gorgeous woman sits next to me and says: ‘You seem pretty bored, do you want some company? ’. I thought she was talking with someone else.” He chuckles. “Before I could realize it, I had her number in my phone-book and a date for the next afternoon.”

You contemplate his profile, his relaxed expression while he shares a bit of his life with you. It truly touches your heart to know that Yoongi’s finally found the happiness he never had when you were younger, but there’s this strange itching that pinches your stomach if you think that you’ve never been good enough to make him understand what a wonderful person he is.

“I talked to her once,” you say, catching his attention. “I was in Paris for a fashion show. She was so beautiful, I immediately understood why my colleagues envied me so much.” You giggle and Yoongi’s eyes become two sweet half-moons. “During the interviews, I talked to her! Well, I only told her she was amazing but she was so polite and funny.” You toy with your bracelets. “She’s nice.”

Yoongi nods. “She’s been the third woman I could naturally talk to without feeling stupid.”

“The third?”

“Well, my mother was the second. And then there was you.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip at that confession and you wide your eyes, feeling a piping hot warmth exploding in your chest. He pulls back his raven hair, unable to hide that odd expression now dawning on his face - as if he’s going to reveal he’s Batman or something.

But whatever he was about to say vanishes in the ring of his phone. Yoongi curses between his teeth. “Sorry. It’s probably for work.” He picks up. “What do you want, Joonie? I told you to not call me when I’m on holiday—Ugh, ok…” he spares you one last glance. “Sorry, I’ll come back soon—It’s none of your business who I’m talking to!” he turns his back, hiding his crimson face.

You chuckle.

Yoongi’s the same. He’s a bit grouchy but a good man at heart; and this Aina must be pretty cool if she’s been able to wreck that shield that protects him from the rest of the world.

Your mother always told you that you were made for each other: you were the only one capable of squeezing him out his shell, and he was the only guy you treated carefully, paying attention to not hurt him in any way. But at that time, your feelings were so messed up that you didn’t even try to give them a shape and before you could listen to them, you were buying a one-way ticket to Seoul.

You turn, observing him from head to toes. You admit he’s pretty sexy with that black T-shirt tucked into his jeans that perfectly defines his slim figure, the way the bracelets dance around his thin wrists, and the confidence in every gesture is an electric shock to your heart.

You ignore that sudden twitch in your stomach and you cast a glance at the ‘for sale’ sign hung on a window. When you realise where you are, you feel catapulting to an excruciating path of your childhood: the afternoons spent on the stairs watching the street, sharing the earphones with Yoongi who never left your hand and whispered you that everything would be fine again, sooner or later; the silence of his dark bedroom and the crushing-bones hugs while his tears drenched your shirts...

“The Bins…” you whisper when Yoongi approaches you again. “It can’t be closed! No way!” you shake your head frenziedly. “Its pastries were the best in the whole universe!”

“It’s already two years.” Yoongi follows your stare. “We always hid here when something went wrong.”

You glance at his serious expression and an uncontrolled warmth makes its way into your chest, placating your throbbing heart.

The first time Yoongi took you here, your father had already disappeared for two weeks. You thought it was a momentary crisis but when you mother babbled about ‘divorce’, you stopped waiting for him on the stairs, cocooned in a blanket. Yoongi offered you a piece of apple-pie and a hot chocolate, spending the few savings he put aside with his part-time job as a pizza-getter only to take out his little girlfriend of that time.

The last time you took him here, he was wearing the same white shirt for two days, the black tie around his neck was loosened, and his odd bluish hair was greasy. His mother had been dead for two days but in his swollen red eyes, it seemed it had already passed ten years. With a cracked voice he asked you: “When will it stop hurting?” but you never replied to him.

There’s no expiration date for sorrow.

“I really hope you’d enjoy their last pies,” you say, sulkily.

Yoongi pauses. “I… stopped coming here since you’ve been gone,” he admits with a low voice, gnawing his bottom lip.

You toy with your bracelets. “Did you come back to Daegu often after you moved?”

“Of course, whenever I can. I love this city, unlike you…”

You’d like to reply but a lump in your throat impedes you to talk.

You can’t interpret the meaning behind his last speech but something tells you that Yoongi would like to submerge you with an avalanche of many other words. For the moment, he only talks about futile things while wandering through the town, making you rediscover the inner beauty of Daegu.

It’s a hot Tuesday afternoon when you discover that Yoongi isn’t the shy boy you used to know anymore, while you’re still the girl who doesn’t see the time to run away from this place.

The next time you see Yoongi is at his father’s diner.

You didn’t have the intention to meet him, but when you passed in front of the big windows and glimpsed at his shape through the glass, you went back way before your brain could scream: “The fuck are you doing?!”

As long as that Tuesday morning spent together demonstrates to you that Yoongi doesn’t hold any grudge against you, you still sense that there’s a high thick wall that you had been able to wreck when you were little, brick after brick.

The bell above the door rings when you walk in, announcing your presence, and when he instinctively lifts his head up, a light flush spreads from the collar of his shirt to his cheeks, now pulled up. A nostalgic smile etches itself on your face when you recognize the small boy who used to play video games with his headphones on behind the counter and looked around bored, waiting for you and Tae to arrive and save him.

In the present, Yoongi checks some bills with his usual pout and doesn’t look like someone who needs to be saved; and yet, that smile he freely delivers to you as soon as you approach him makes you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I didn’t expect you to come here,” he says when he’s done to serve a client. “How was your day?” he inquiries, crossing his arms on the counter.

You swallow at the sight of his veins branching along his skin, at his long elegant fingers with some rings wrapped around them drumming on the wooden surface… geez, he's so manly to run your mouth dry. However, his left eyebrow arched brings you back down to reality and you manage to say: “Tiring. I’ve spent the whole afternoon helping Euna with the last things. If someone will ever ask me why I don’t want to get married, I’ll tell them I never recovered from today.” You chuckle and Yoongi follows you, flashing you his marvelous gummy smile that always made you prefer spending your days with him rather than your solitude. You take a look around the dim-lit room, observing all the clients sitting around the tables. “Sorry if I bumped here, you’re working—“

“I’m not.” He scratches the nape of his neck. “Well, I am. One of the waitresses is sick so my father asked me to help, and since Tae’s so busy I didn’t have anything better to do.” He avoids your stare.

A sudden awareness painfully tugs at your heart, as it makes its way in your mind: you aren’t anymore the ‘better’ in his life. He could’ve knocked on your door asking for your company; instead, he preferred working.

Your guts squirm as a thin voice inside of you whispers: ‘What did you expect? To still be the most important girl in his life? He’s engaged, did you forget it?’

C'mon, we're not talking about an ordinary girl like you, but one who fulfills half South Korea’s fantasies!

And even if she wasn’t so famous, why should he prefer a girl who trampled on his heart, when she's certainly the one who took good care of him, healing all the scars you left him?

“Then I should really let you work.” You plaster a smile, sparing one last glance to the room where you, Tae and him used to reunite after school. “Well, see you—“

“No, stay…” he stops you, softly, toying with his rings. “If you don’t mind waiting a bit… We can do something together, later,” he abruptly says, biting the right corner of his mouth.

“No, I’ll probably go home. You gotta work—”

“Then I’ll walk you home.” He scratches his crimson ear.

You smirk, raising your chin. “Are you scared that a delicate flower like me may incur some danger all alone at night?”

“Actually, I’d be scared for your assailant.” He bursts out laughing when you sharpen your eyes. “C’mon, don’t look at me like this! Have you forgotten that time you punched Jongin? He was reading out loud the love letter I wrote to Aeja. You went all berserk when you saw me crying… You were such a tomboy.” His expression softens. “I never truly thanked you for being so—“

“Rude? Stupid? A killer?”

“Nice…” he says quietly, “I was such a cry-baby, back then. I felt guilty when they suspended you for more than a week.”

Of that far away May, you remember only your mother’s scorching gaze, her cold shoulder… and Yoongi coming to your house every single day after school. He stayed in your bedroom doing homework, he let you play his video games and spent all his pocket money buying you your favorite snacks. He said that school wasn’t the same without you and the day you came back, he had this huge gummy smile that ran from cheek to cheek… the same that danced across his features wet with tears when you took him by the hand and walked back home together, leaving Jongin cleaning his bleeding nose.

Essential, that’s how Yoongi made you feel.

That’s what you’re missing right now, while you see him text –certainly- with his girlfriend: he’s finally built his life, and you aren’t part of it anymore. But when he lifts his head up and his shimmering eyes engulf into yours, you’ve got the presumption that your soft shy boy is still there, trapped in a masculine body and with a contemptuous expression.

Your heart flickers in your chest as he delivers you a gentle smile, and you realize you don’t want this night to end. You want to keep him with you as long as possible, even if just for one night…

“Today’s Thursday, there’s the local fair…” Yoongi munches the corner of his mouth, unsure. Then, his eyes become two sweet half-moons and stares back at you as if he’s put aside all his doubts and questions. “Would you like to go?”

You smile back. “Why not?”

… You want to be thrown back once more to those moments where he looked into your eyes and you felt on top of the world.

Now that Yoongi’s a grown-up man with a good pay, and you’re a carrier woman who can pay her own dinners in a fancy restaurant without waiting for a guy to take out his own wallet, you should buy your own cotton candy.

You should, but you don’t.

Yoongi walks beside you, keeping the cotton candy you’re sharing. His laugh is raspy, amused, while you recount him about how you passed from being a secretary in charge of coffee and photocopies to be your chief’s right-hand; or how he sometimes sends you on the other side of the world alone because he trusts your abilities and knows you can handle everything alone.

He whistles. “I understand now why you’re unavailable.”

“I told you!” you elbow him lightly. “He gets invitations for every runaway show, and he brings me with him most of the time. It’s really tiring and stressful, but I love it.” You take a piece of cotton candy between your fingers, as a light giggle escapes from your mouth. “Once he took me to Las Vegas, it was my first time there. There’s something magical in it! And he’s also a good man,” you conclude, eating the candy.

Yoongi caresses his chin. “I imagine he must be something more than a simple chief...”

“He’s married to his job. And me too.”

He scratches the back of his ear, twiddling with his two earrings. “So… You don’t have time for anybody in your life right now?”

You clean your sticky fingers. “There was someone…” you admit, giving him a sidelong glance to study what kind of expression might be dawned on his face. “But I guess that Tae told you everything already.”

He blushes and pouts. “He just told me you had a boyfriend, but now you don’t. He never explained why you two broke up, and I didn’t ask.” He shrugs, before rolling up his sleeves sloppily.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure about where to begin. You repeated the same few words so many times in your head it shouldn’t be too hard for you to plaster a smile and tell a simple: “I’ve asked him to move in together but he refused”... but the fact is: things are slightly different as you had recounted them to Tae or your mother.

Yoongi is different...

Your heart skips a beat at this thought, before starting to throb noticeably faster. You stop staring at the trails of colorful small lanterns that guide you throughout the stands and when you meet Yoongi’s eyes, in which stream a mixture of tenderness and curiosity, words tumble off your tongue. “His name’s Seokjin. I met him at a conference and he was soooo—God, you don’t have any idea how handsome he is! He’s got these big broad shoulders that—” you cough as Yoongi grimaces. “I was happy with him, he was a constant presence in my life but I didn’t notice we were really together until he left some of his clothes in my wardrobe. He said that it was just for practicality, so he didn’t have to take a luggage whenever he came to visit me from Gwacheon… but..” your words trail off mid-sentence, as you focus your attention on some children playing.

“It’s so strange to see you with someone. You’ve finally found the right one!” Tae  candidly confessed when you introduced them to Jin, during a last-minute dinner you organized when they were in Seoul for work; and at that statement, you simply smiled, almost believing in his words. However, reality took you aback and you soon came to the realization that a twice-a-month-weekend spent together is definitively different from sharing an entire life.

“Then what happened?” Yoongi presses further as if he’s sensed that something’s wrong.

You wonder how much he knows, and how he’ll react when he’ll find out the truth. You pause, words are glued on your palate. “He asked me to move in together and I refused… So he left me.”

Jin’s big liquid eyes at your candid “No.” still scorch you when you least expect it, as much as his feeble “But… Do you love me, (Y/N)?” comes to haunt you whenever you start to notice that you’re dating a guy for too long.

You aren't punishing yourself for your behaviour toward him, it’s just… if you weren't able to cultivate your relationship with Seokjin, you highly doubt someone else will be able to do what he couldn't sort out: to help you to overcome your fear that entangling your existence with someone else's life isn’t so smothering as you’ve always thought.

And when you arouse your interest from your bracelets to Yoongi’s bemused expression, you realize he already knows everything -or at least the story you’ve told to everybody-.

“You’re the first I tell the truth,” you start, “It’s easier in this way. I couldn’t stand their faces, otherwise.” You lightly chuckle, feeling his sombre eyes boring through your skin. “Tae would spend his days making me feel guilty, my mother would jam my voice mail because she thinks that there’s something wrong with me.” You lower your head. “I can imagine her saying: Seokjin is just another failure.”

“He probably wasn’t the right one,” Yoongi analyses, after a brief pause.

“Probably. Move in with someone is an important decision, you can’t take it light-heartedly.” You clasp your hands behind your back. “You know? After two years with him, I believed it’d be hard getting used to solitude once again. Then I opened my wardrobe, I saw only my clothes and… I dunno, I felt so relieved. I thought: there’s much more space for me now.” You exhale an airy laugh.

Yoongi dimly smiles. “I can’t really imagine you seriously with someone…” his stare widens when he hears his own words. “I mean… you always ran away whenever a relationship started to become serious.” He scratches his scarlet ear. “Sorry…”

“Don’t worry…” you pause, then you shake your head, trying to not bother too much about his comment. “But maybe it’s better like this. He’s happy now, with someone who really loves him.”

“You didn’t?”

“If I did, I’d accepted his proposal immediately.” You toy with your bracelets, narrowing your brows when a strange question pops out in your mind. “How have you understood you love Aina?” you swallow, feeling your heart beating in your ears, loud and noisy.

Yoongi blushes, caught off guard by your question. “I just… knew it.” He pokes the tongue on his cheek. “One morning, I woke up and she was next to me. We didn’t have sex, we just fell asleep before she could go away. And I understood that I didn’t want her to go back home. I wanted for my home to become hers.” He lowers his voice. “It’s about the things I’ve always wanted to build as an adult and who I wanted to share them with.” His eyes engulf into your eyes, and you catch a strange glint crawling in them. “She’s been the first for whom I felt like this.”

Something breaks deep down inside of you.

Seeing Yoongi so into deep with someone is comparable to a hit against a brick wall, and as long as you always believed you were the only one to fulfill his fantasies, you start now to realize how wrong you were. Probably, along the way of your growth, there was a moment where Yoongi felt something deep for you but it never sprouted out for him.

It did for you, instead, at a certain point.

More than once your heart bumped differently whenever it came to him, but you start to believe it was just a matter of habit, amplified by the simple fact that you were always glued to each other.

You try to placate your aching heart but the way Yoongi caresses you with his stare isn’t of any help. He’s got the expression of someone who’s desperately trying to tell you something that could trigger an emotional outburst none of you could recover from; but if in the past he’d have said for sure the wrong thing, he now stays silent.

You distract when some children brush past you. You follow them with your stare, being guided to the only point that brings back so many memories you forget you were having a serious conversation.

“The fishing stand…” you scamper toward it like a moth to a flame, and you crouch down, mesmerized by the refreshing sight before you.

Yoongi’s immediately behind you, then he crouches down beside you, watching a child try to catch the fishes with the paper net. When it breaks, one of them starts to fuss.

You chuckle. “God, I was just like him! Do you remember when I cried so much that in the end, you gave me all your fishes—Uh!“ whatever you were about to say, rolls back in your throat.

Some kids next to you accidentally shove you when they want to watch closely, and you lose balance, landing on Yoongi’s chest. He curses between his teeth when he hits his butt on the ground, and as long as you know you should move away, you can’t help but stay there in his light embrace, cuddled by the sound of his throbbing heart.

It pumps hard, just like it did whenever you fell asleep on his chest, when you were dancing at the prom, when you were going to leave Daegu… A sudden warmth crawls through your veins, it spreads on your face now on fire, and it gives you enough energy to get on your feet… but you can't move.

Yoongi squeezes his hands on your shoulders, and you now realize that his arms –definitively more masculine than you remembered- are actually wrapping you firmly.

You swallow thickly. “Yoongi, hey--”

“(Y/N), what if Seokjin never truly loved you?” he interrupts, his voice soft like melted butter. “If he did, he’d fought harder to keep you with him.”

You feel as if your whole body is shaking, but a quick glance to his shoulders makes you understand that Yoongi’s the one who’s trembling. You rest your ear more on his chest, basking in the silence now settled upon you.

“(Y/N), there’s a thing I’ve to tell you. For a very long time… But I’m deadly scared you’ll run away,” he whispers, brushing his lips on your hair.

At those words, you pull yourself away a bit.

Yoongi’s staring at you with wide eyes, his bottom lip is taught between his teeth… you recognize that expression, you saw it on a billion guys when they were on the cusp of kissing you.

You quickly analyze the situation: backing off would be the best thing to do, and yet you stay still, waiting for something to happen--!

A loud shout distracts the pair of you from your mutual contemplation. You gaze over your shoulder, attracted by a small boy's crying.

Yoongi seems to come back to earth too, as he immediately loses the grip, fixing his hair and T-shirt. He takes his knees to his chest and circles his legs with his arms, as he diverts his stare.

“Yoongi…” you call him, vaguely.

It takes him quite some time to lift his head up and when he does, he looks at you in a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and guilt. “Yeah?”

You flash him a beaming smile. “Are you still good at catching fishes?”

“I can’t believe I spent all my money on a stupid childish game!”

You take off the stare from the bus window, peering at Yoongi, sprawled on the sit next to yours.

For a brief moment, the unmistakable scent of the 724 has made you sink in a pond of heart-melting memories, and you ask yourself if it’s the same also for him, busy watching his wallet with pouty lips.

“Come on, you made some children happy. And the carny too… And me too!” you show him the plastic bag full of water you’re carrying with you -as if it was an estimable treasure. “Look at this adorable tiny koi! You’ve gained a free spot in Paradise for this!”

Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. “You should find it a name.”

You look at him fondly. Your head keeps replaying him while he was catching fishes, with his contemptuous expression and the tongue’s tip tightened between his teeth; the children gawking at him in adoration, his red cheeks when they clung to his arms, the laughter when you cheered for him, his delicacy when he taught them how to not break the paper…

Yoongi’s far away from the memory you kept locked in your heart until for all this time; and while he twiddles with his rings, talkative as he’s never been since you’ve met again, you tell yourself that it has come the time to let the shy boy go and welcome this man that makes you feel fifteen again.

“I can imagine you with kids,” you interrupt, softly, and your eyes crinkle in the corner when he blushes. “They’d be handsome since Aina and you are—“ you gasp. “Well, c’mon, it’s true. She’s drop-dead gorgeous while you—Oh, well, you probably hear it every day.”

“Not really.” He rubs his nose. “Fortunately, there’s your mother who loves reminding me of it.” He jokes.

You look heavenward. Geez, she always had a soft spot for him. You can’t forget the stain of wine Yoongi poured on your couch on your seventeenth birthday, and how she forgave him immediately at the sight of his adorable gummy smile.

You’re about to reply but words falter and die in the back of his throat when Yoongi suddenly rests his head on your shoulder, suffocating a yawn. “(Y/N), listen…” his hand slowly moves toward yours and when his fingertips touch it, a cascade of shivers wash you from head to toes. “It’s not true I’m happy with Aina. We… took some time-out, for a while.” His fingers intertwine with yours. “You’re the only one I’m telling.” He closes his eyes.

You wait for a follow-up that never comes, as  your heart lurches and hides itself somewhere deep down yourself.

Yoongi’s already sleeping, just like he used to do when you were much younger… and you don’t know if you can handle another abrupt confession like this one.

It’s Sunday 4:00 AM when you come back from Euna’s bachelorette party -and your only desire is to get ready for bed and wake up the day of the wedding.

However, the sight now taking shape in front of you scatters away all your thoughts: Yoongi’s sat on the stairs of his place, and glances at the phone with the most serious expression that has ever hovered on his face.

You’re about to go away, taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t notice you, but his confession whispered on the bus starts whirling again in your head with so much power to paralyse you under the feeble light of the streetlamp.

“Already at home?” you recall his attention, and after a brief moment of surprise, he nods. “How was your bachelor’s party?” you inquire, approaching him.

“Good.” He scratches his ear. “Yours?”

“Great, we had a lot of fun!” you sit next to him, starting to recount him all the things you did. Then, aware that Yoongi isn't paying you any attention, you carefully study the broken expression crossing his features. “Something happened? You’re too sulky for someone who’s just seen strip-teasers.” You joke, but he doesn’t respond. “Well, you must be tired, it’s better if—“

“Stay…” he interrupts, softly, “I was just—“ he flaps his phone, then he scratches his nape. “I’m glad if you stay.” He delivers you a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. “I had an argument with Aina, that’s why I came back earlier.”

“About what?”

He shrugs. “Many things.”

You munch the corner of your mouth. “Won’t she come to the wedding?”

“She never planned to come. That’s one of the ‘many things’ .”

You stiffen when a light breeze blows, hitting you with his good fresh scent. You tight into your jacket. “I… I’m sorry for you and Aina. I hope you’ll work things out.” You smile, encouragingly. “It’s just… I never saw you so happy with anyone else.” Only at this statement, Yoongi looks at you in the eyes, furrowing.

“There was someone else… how couldn't you notice it?” After a long, infinite minute, Yoongi whispers a few words that shake you up from the inside. “… it was you.”

You turn to him,  who's got the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen on a guy’s face.

“It’s always been you…” he drums his trembling fingers on his knees. “The first time I saw you, you were yelling at your father ‘cause you had forgotten something in your hometown and he didn’t want to go back to take it. He told you: ‘I’ll buy you a new one’ and you replied: ‘It’s not the same! ’” he lightly chuckles. “You were so vibrant, I felt captured by that light you emanated in everything you did or said. I know it’s been a torture for you to move here but there hasn’t been a day I wasn’t happy for you becoming a part of my life.”

Your heart beats faster in the silence now following his words. As long as you’ve always noticed his feelings for you, hearing them out loud makes another effect: they scare you, you’re so terrorized you’d like to run away from Daegu right now; and yet, you're paralyzed by the simple thought that he’s cherished your memory with so much carefulness after all this time.

“Say something, (Y/N)…” he begs with a cracked voice, moistening his lips.

You’d like to reply but words are stuck in your dry throat. So, you slide your fingers in his raven hair, curling some locks. Then your fingertips slowly climb down and toy with his fringe, perfectly trace his nose line, and finally rest on his crimson cheek.

Yoongi tilts his head only to feel you better, closing his eyes under your soft touch. He turns a bit and brushes his mouth on your palm. The shiver it gives you is not comparable to the myriad running up and down your spine when his lips climb up your arm, on your shoulder, on your neck...

Yoongi is delicate, like someone who’s deadly terrified to see you vanish in thin air, and as long as you’d love for him to not stop, you know this isn’t right.

“You’ve got a girlfriend,” you barely whisper.

His searing lips unglue from your neck. “Dunno. Probably…” he looks at you, and you can clearly see the sad boy you left on these same stairs, four years ago. “Maybe she’s just a girl who forgot her things at my home,” he says bitterly, confusedly, searching for your stare. “She asked me to go with her to Japan… that’s why we argued,” he suddenly confesses.

Your eyes grow bigger and watery.

If he goes to Japan, Yoongi won’t be a part of your life anymore...

“I don’t want to go. My life is here in Daegu, in Ilsan… it's where there's you.” He rests his forehead on yours and wraps you into his arms, pulling you closer. “Daegu hadn’t been the same without you. Time passed so slowly, it’s been so hard to get used to your absence.” He rubs his nose on yours. “I missed you so much, you don’t have any idea how much I did. I thought I got over you, but I didn’t.”

You don’t know how long you hold each other’s gaze but when you’re about to back off a bit, Yoongi bends over and presses his lips on yours in a long, gentle kiss. You can feel his pain, his desire, and when he cups your face tight, you wonder how long he’s been waiting for this to happen. He inches away after a few seconds to catch some breath, placing chaste kisses on your mouth.

In that precise moment, your mind blacks-out.

You rest your trembling hands on his wrists and enjoy the good sensations he’s making you feel only with the simple delicate touch of his mouth against yours, as if the pair of you have been created for this very moment.

“(Y/N)…” your name never sounded so good till tonight, whispered on your lips. “The day you went away, I had to tell you a thing but I lacked courage. I regretted it so much…”

He moistens his lips and catches a breath…

“I, for you… I’ve always wanted to be that one good reason for you to stay and love this place… I still want to be. So, please …” he locks his stare into yours. “Tell me that’s the same for you and I’ll stay here, with you…”

Yoongi’s eyes grow liquid and your breath sticks in your throat…

“I’ll give you all the room in the world, (Y/N).”

Chapter Text

“You’re distracted,” Taehyung observes when he shows up at your home the next morning. He’s been polite enough to not comment at your dark circles -or the fact that you had pretended to be still asleep until you hadn’t glimpsed his shape from the window- but it’s written all over his face he’d like to submerge you with an avalanche of questions.

“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well,” you reply quietly, throwing a quick glance to Yoongi’s house through the curtains of your kitchen.

He was the first thing you had seen once you opened your eyes and you’ve to admit it was really a wonderful way to start the day; he was fixing his clothes in front of the mirror, haphazardly rolling up the sleeves while tightening the phone between his ear and shoulder and he was so enchanting that you’d gawked at him, pressing your cheek harder on the pillow as a piping hot warmth melted you inside.

You'd have stayed like this forever, contemplating his thin yet manly figure wandering through his bedroom… until his pure, excruciating confession hadn’t whirled in your head, sinking you back down to reality.

You turn, lowering your stare on the mug full of black tea while you rest your hand on your stomach, unable to stop those butterflies whirling in it.

You haven’t felt like this in a while, not even when Seokjin kissed you for the first time and you could have sworn you had seen the milky way behind your closed eyelids, as his fingers roamed through your hair and pressed on your scalp.

You swallow back your heart, now beating in your throat.

“C’mon (Y/N), I can’t believe you never noticed it, it was crystal clear that Yoongi felt something for you,” Tae had once told you without preamble, during one of his quick trips in Seoul. On that occasion, just like you did a billion times when you were younger -when Yoongi treated you as if you were a star just fallen from the sky- you didn’t even try to listen to your aching heart.

You just shrugged, ignoring all the signals, the hints and your best friend’s words.

However, today you don’t.

You can’t ignore someone who’s ready to drastically change his life for you. Someone who’d prefer a normal girl like you rather than a famous, gorgeous model. Someone who’d prefer following you to a small flat in Seoul, giving Japan up. Someone who cherished you in his heart and mind for all these years, as much as he did when you were the girl next door.

Yoongi didn’t clearly say “I love you” but the beautiful things he told you, can’t they be compared to love too?

“Something happened at the bachelorette party?” Tae asks, concerned, carefully studying the expression dawning on your face. “Euna told me it went well.”

You nibble on the corner of your mouth. “Not during… after ,” you emphasize that last word, feeling tremendously small and vulnerable when his eyes get stormy. “I met Yoongi when I came back home. We talked a bit, he seemed so down because of Aina and--” you catch a breath, feeling your heart lurch in the anticipation of what comes next. “And... he confessed. Everything was so abrupt; I’m still dazed.” You let out a nervous giggle, tightening your hands between your knees.

Tae’s expression softens and a light smile full of tenderness blooms on his lips, the same he used to give you whenever you were running in circles in your own problems while the solution was already under your nose -you were just too confused and scared to see it.

You scratch your neck. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I am…” he admits, resting his chin on his palm. “I’m surprised he’s endured for all these years…” he chuckles when you narrow your brows. “(Y/N), Yoongi had a crush on you since you stole his chicken on his eighth birthday.” He spills out that secret with a smirk, enjoying your sudden surprise.

You instantly blush, while a piping-hot warmth explodes in your chest and that silly memory takes shape in the back of his eyelids.

It was the first time you decided to unlock from your bedroom, following your parents to the neighbours’ home without even knowing their faces; you only knew that those two gentle parents who used to invite you to their home from time to time had a very weird son… a very weird child who didn't want to play with the other kids, come here to celebrate him. And when you noticed this small bean sitting alone on the stairs, you were reminded of all the times he tried to get closer to you but you cocooned in your solitude, instead. Unconsciously, you left your mother’s hand and you moved your feet, sitting beside him.

Yoongi stared at you with his usual pout, crimson cheeks and shaky eyes… and his terrorized expression immediately turned into an angry one when you stole the chicken from the plate laying on his lap -you can still hear his high-pitched “Mommy! This weirdo’s stealing my food!”

“You can’t even imagine how many nights he spent talking about you.” Tae’s voice snaps you back to reality and you almost sink into his brown eyes full of nostalgia. “He was a constant: (Y/N) is special, (Y/N) is this, (Y/N) is that, I feel I could be a better man with her…” he stares at the ceiling, laying better on the chair. “He really did love you… But, perhaps, he never stopped. The thing is… how do you feel about him?” His question rolls among the snacks and mugs on your table with absolute peacefulness, as if it was the time to take a final trip in the depths of yourself.

“I think… I liked him, at a certain point,” you say, quietly.

You’re not so blind to deny you've always had a crush on him too, and that these emotions he’s making you feel aren’t brand new. However, the thought that things between you two could grow was swiped away easily whenever it crossed your mind, replaced by billions of excuses that instantly healed your nervousness: ‘I don’t want to ruin our friendship’, ‘What if he wasn’t my best friend?’…

“We both know there’s another reason why you don’t want things between you and Yoongi to change,” Tae had said during one of those nights where you were too drunk to actually remember how you stepped into a conversation like that. You kept silent, waiting for a follow that never came, and you glanced at Yoongi fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder, letting all the answers sink in the liquor you stole from your mother’s credenza.

“And you don’t, now?”

Your stare dances from his eyes full of expectation to the cup of tea in front of you, then you shake your head. “Maybe I never liked him in the first place? When I went away I told myself: I’ll write to him today. Then today turned into tomorrow, tomorrow became weeks, weeks became years…” you torture your bracelets. “I was scared to face him again because I thought he hated me for my behaviour, but it seems as if time never passed. We visited Daegu like we did every day after school, we went to the fair… He treated me as if I didn’t ignore him for four years,” you confess, feeling a stab in your stomach for all those times you ignored his number appearing on your phone-screen.

Oh, geez… you can't help but wonder how heart-wrenching it must have been for him to become a sporadic message in your inbox.

“There’s a difference between ignoring someone and avoiding them,” Tae analyses without the slightest trace of blame in his voice. “You always gave me the impression that you wanted something more but you were too scared to act on it.” He casts a glance at Yoongi's home, drawing patterns with his thumbs on his mug. “Seoul’s just been as good a way as any to distance yourself, you did the same when you lived here, like… do you remember when you were about to depart and you always skipped the dinners we organized to stay together a bit longer?” he rests his cheek on his palm and dimly smiles when you nervously mutter between your teeth. “(Y/N), Yoongi always knew you weren’t ready for anybody, and for that reason he accepted this side of you.”

And for this reason, he probably let you go without any dramatic show or abrupt declaration of love. His bone-crushing hug was the only thing he allowed himself to do, permitting you to follow your dreams serenely without the weight of the past that’d inevitably make you look back at the good halcyon days spent together.

Yoongi loved you in all the ways a human being can; and yet, he was never pushy... you should feel blessed for this.

“I thought Seoul was a way to start again. I thought I’d meet someone who’d make me understand that two is better than one, I repeated myself. But I didn’t change a bit.” You deliver him a bitter smil, replaying in your head all the relationships you’ve willingly broken.

Tae remains silent, then he says: “You know, I really thought Seokjin was the right one. I’m sorry he ruined everything.”

You gasp, torturing your bracelets. “I did, actually…” You cough, trying to fix your scratchy voice but it isn't really easy as his stare bores through your skin. “I was the one to refuse to move in together,” you explain and the vague expression he’s giving you right now is a stab in your stomach. “I’m sorry I lied, it’s just… I couldn’t bear you looking at me as if I failed once again. And I know I did. Jin was great, Jin was really the best in this world but I panicked, I always do when guys want more… And it was the same with Yoongi.”

“Did you say no?” he inquiries after a while, bouncing back from your confession.

“I told him I need to think about it but I practically ran away,” you admit. You tight your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling your eyes swell up with tears.

Yoongi took his heart and put it in your hands, despite his fears and doubts… and what did you do, instead? You trampled on it, giving him back only silence before rushing back to your home.

Yoongi’s broken expression will haunt you for the rest of your life.

A thick silence falls upon the pair of you and it lasts for so long that you start to believe that Tae is really mad at you, not only for the things he’s discovered, but also for the way you’ve treated your best friend.

Then, he suddenly says, “Did I ever tell you that Euna rejected me, when I asked her out for the first time?” He runs his fingers through his brownish hair. “She just got over a bad breakup, it was too soon… But I waited for her, we took things slow, day by day… And look where we are now.” He flashes you a smile brighter than the sun that’s kissing Daegu today. “Tomorrow, at this hour, she’ll be my wife and I can’t stop thinking about the pain I felt when she rejected me, the patience… everything was worth it.”

“Aren’t you terrified that things will crumble, someday?” you ask, cautiously.

But Tae doesn’t stiffen or react hysterically. He only dimly smiles at you and says: “Of course I am… but who isn’t scared that things can end, sooner or later?” peacefully, sincerely as if this thought has screamed higher than the others more than once; and yet, there's a glint of sheer love and affection crawling in his long almond eyes that beats all the rest. “It’s just that one day you wake up and you understand that the fear of a broken heart is not so powerful as the desire to actually try and see how far you can go.” Tae stands up, stretching his legs, and puts his empty mug in the sink. “I wasn’t really sure about marriage and all but I thought: if I don’t do it with her, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” He finishes, smiling encouragingly like he always did whenever you were about to take a leap of faith.

Your state flickers from him to the window, staring at Yoongi’s house. There’s a part of you that’s begging you to stand up and dash to him, throwing yourself in his arms; on the flip side, you’re so frightened of the consequences of all your past actions to the point of being paralyzed.

“What should I do?” you mutter, to him and to yourself.

Tae pauses, twiddling with his car keys but when he shakes his head, it’s crystal clear that there’s no real solution when it comes to love and the happiness of others. “(Y/N)… Be sincere,” he firmly advises, “Tell him that you’re scared. Yoongi will understand you, he always did. And if you don’t want for things to change because you don’t love him, it’s ok…” he smiles, sparing you one last glance. “But... believe me when I say that nobody will ever love you like Yoongi does.”

You spend the entire Saturday thinking about Taehyung’s words, sinking in the abyss of yourself only to find the courage to go to Yoongi and open up like you’ve never done with anybody.

His unanswered texts he sent you in the past two days -in which he asked you if you were ok, if you wanted to talk to him, to not ignore him- lay in your phone; but anytime you try to reply, you feel a rush of anxiousness running up and down your spine that makes you give up.

The ring of your phone breaks the silence of your dark bedroom for the umpteenth time and when you notice Yoongi’s name appearing again on the screen, your heart throbs so hard you feel dizzy. You hesitantly open the message and when his few words cascade in front of your wide eyes, you feel tears pushing to fall down, just like they did when he told you that Daegu would never be the same without you…

“I chose Japan.”

The morning of the wedding, you put up that smile you’ve trained yourself to wear every single day; however, the simple sight of Min Yoongi at a few meters from you makes your facade of happiness crumble.

He’s listening to his father, busy talking with another couple you vaguely remember always at his home whenever they had a party; from time to time, he nervously pulls back his dark hair with his long elegant fingers when the bridesmaids parade in front of him, whispering and giggling in his direction.

“He’s grown up so much!” your mother tweets and you can only nod, mesmerized by his masculinity and the confidence he exudes simply standing there.

His handsomeness goes beyond words.

Your stare delicately caresses his shape meticulously, imprinting in your memory every single detail you can catch because you’re perfectly aware this will be the last time you’ll see him: the little cute polka dot bowtie tightened to the white shirt’s collar, the earrings that don’t affect the elegance of the black suit he’s wearing, his light laugh that lightens up his face, the way his jewelled fingers twiddle with his curled fringe, and his droopy eyes crinkled in the corner that used to wash you with pure sweetness since you came back…

Since always, actually.

You approach him, following your mother and when you stop behind her, Yoongi gives you his best contemptuous expression. You avoid his stare, contemplating your shoes. Even if you know he’ll never tell you how much the color of your long dress brings out your eyes, or how your makeup makes you look even more beautiful than you always are, deep inside you hope that an itsy-bitsy compliment will fly out his stretched lips.

But alas, Yoongi ignores you, focusing on your mother instead.

“Yoongi, you’re so handsome!” she comments and he lowers his head, badly hiding his gummy smile. “You became such a wonderful man!” she proudly adds as if he was her own son.

“Thanks,” he simply replies, scratching the back of his charred ear.

“Your father told me about Japan. It’s going to be a great opportunity for you!”

His smile trembles at her words, but he finally manages to say: “Ah, yeah. Aina’s already there, I just have to find a way to move my things from Ilsan.” His eyes engulf into yours now and you hardly hold them, trying to swallow back that tangle that’s suffocating you.

They rattle on for some minutes and you silently follow their conversation, without interrupting. You’re trying to keep tears at bay, chewing on your bottom lip, and you don’t even want to know what kind of voice you may have right now but you’re pretty sure it’s going to be scratchy and cracked.

It’s just when silence settles upon you that you realise that your mother’s left you alone; you keep your heat at bay for the moment in which Yoongi will spare you one last glance full of anger before walking away from you but despite every prediction, he doesn’t move.

He looks at you deadpan, jamming his hands in the front pockets of his elegant black trousers.

Eventually, you manage to say a low: “You look good today.” Followed by a rather unsuccessful attempt at a smile, to which he doesn’t respond. “So… you’re going to Japan…” you moisten your lips. “I thought you didn’t want to go.” You bite your tongue when he narrows his brows.

Yoongi pauses. “You took your decision, I took mine.” He munches the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting for you for two days,” he whispers, locking his stare to his shoes.

You open your mouth but the only sound you utter is a squeak.

Yoongi waits for a follow-up but when the only thing you do is torturing your bracelets or fingers, he looks heavenward, lowly cursing between his teeth.

It’s just when you see him turning that you find the courage to stop him. “I didn’t want to disappear, I just needed some time to think. You caught me off guard…” you justify, aware this is just another of your usual excuses, hoping for him to understand you and forgive you.

However, the person now standing in front of you isn’t the boy who desperately needed you; Yoongi is a man who’s slowly moulding his existence and who made some space for you, dreaming of you to fill it one day... while you’re still the girl who makes excuses up to justify your failing relationships or your inability to keep a man beside you for too long.

“Disappearing is what you do best, apparently.” He jams his hands in his pockets and ignores your vague expression. “And one day is really a long time for a no. ” He now makes eye contact but there’s no trace of that usual tolerance he used to wash you with. “I understood it when you ran away, that you don’t feel the same, but I hoped you’d have the balls to say it out loud, not because I’m a guy who confessed, but because I’m your friend ,” he stresses on that last word and the way he says it is a punch to your stomach. “I was so foolish to think you changed, but you’re still the same (Y/N) who doesn’t give a fuck about our friendship—”

“That’s not true!” you interrupt, firmly, “I truly cherished our friendship, you were my best friend—“

“Best friends don’t forget to call when they move to another city.”

“You didn’t call me either—”

“I did!” he clenches his fists, then he lets his finger crawl on his tired red face. “I did. Every day. Every hour, sometimes. But you never picked up, you never called me back. Until one day you changed your number. You didn’t even try to find a way to tell me.” He pokes the tip of his tongue on his cheek. “What kind of friendship is this?” his lips tremble. “Why did you forget about me?” he inquires with a scratchy voice.

“I… I thought—“

“You thought what? That I’d take the first flight to Seoul only ‘cause you replied to a call? Do you really believe I was that desperate?!” he submerges you with questions full of frustration, as if they’ve harassed him endlessly and he couldn't wait to shoot you with them. “I changed a lot, you know? Even if you still see me as the clumsy Min Yoongi who couldn’t ask a girl out, I’m not the shy silent boy who hides behind you anymore.” His jaw hardens and you lower your stare, feeling guilty. “I did so many important things in my life and I wanted you to be there every single time but you weren’t. Aina was, though…”

“You told me things aren’t working with her,” you can only mutter, without any real intention of continuing this conversation.

You’re going to lose him anyway, what’s the point in staying here, letting yourself be reminded of how much of a bitch you’ve been toward him?

“We can work them out. We probably need to spend some time together, that’s all. We’ve got so many projects: children, growing old together, so many it’d take me hours to list them…” he confesses with a bitter chuckle and you look at him with liquid eyes. “She wants to give me all the things you couldn’t. That’s why I chose her.” He bites his bottom lip, keeping tears at bay. “You really make me feel as if I’m fifteen again: scared, stupid, small… she makes me feel like a man. Someone who counts. I need stability and it’s pretty clear you’ll never be able to give it to anyone…” he explains, without leaving you any time to retort or actually find the right words in the chaos whirling in your head. “(Y/N), I… I don’t want to spend my days with someone who enjoys seeing her wardrobe full only of her own clothes.”

His last statement hits you with the same intensity of a stab to your heart.

He’s practically summarized all your fears in one sentence and has trampled on it, washing you with all the frustration he’s probably learned to live with for all these years.

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a reaction. He lets the conversation sink into a thick silence and turns, reaching the other best-man and the bridesmaids while you stay there, admiring his back with the complete and devastating sensation that he’s now too far away to be reached.

This is the first time you feel something when a relationship ends.

Sadly, you and Yoongi have never really begun anything.

Taehyung is simply amazing.

He nervously shoves back his hair or fixes his black tie. He talks with Yoongi beside him, who nervously toys with his Rolex or his rings and lowers his head whenever his face turns scarlet, but in the exact instant Euna makes her way through the room under the music, a big bright smile blooms on his face.

Everyone’s eyes are on them, the almost “newlyweds”.

Except for you.

You can’t take your eyes off Min Yoongi.

Taehyung and Euna are slowly dancing in the centre of the dance floor, kissed by the dim blue lights of the room where you're celebrating the party. She chuckles every time he whispers in her ear, he brightly smiles whenever she speaks… Tae’s got eyes full of love, a kind of eyes that not everybody has, and that you rarely saw on men whenever they were staring at you.

Aside from Seokjin, and the way his smile softened when you stared at each other for too long.

Aside from Yoongi, and the way he moistens his lips before letting out a soft chuckle.

You feel a storm of butterfly whirl in the pit of your stomach at that sight. He always does it when he’s embarrassed, and you noticed this tiny detail when he invited you to the prom, during your last year of high school: his suit was a bit too oversized for him and his odd greenish hair seemed fluorescent in the lights of the decorated room. Nevertheless, the boy clumsily holding your hips, who often stumbled over his feet or stamped on yours, who whispered sweet nothings in your ears that night gave you a glint of the man he soon would become.

And now that he’s there, at a few meters from you, you’d really love to turn back time and kiss him when you had the occasion.

Suddenly, you also realise another thing.

That you missed him since you went away. Just because you didn’t call him, just because you became a ghost or his image didn't take shape in your mind constantly, it doesn’t mean that you never thought about him.

You did, more than he could expect; and every time his blond hair popped out in the middle of an article you were revising, every time his droopy eyes appeared in the back of your mind when you were watching some guy, every time his slurry voice with that adorable Daegu accent caressed your ears when you were listening to your chief… Every time all these small things came back to haunt you just where you were taking your steps into your new life, the pain you felt was the same that wrapped when you were about to depart with just a luggage, your dreams and his smell on your shirt.

The fact is that you were too scared to face the hugeness of your feelings, so you decided to put them aside.

You’d like to tell him all these things in his ear while his trembling hands rest on your waist and his fresh scent mixes with your almond shampoo. While that precious smile he tends to keep to himself too much slowly blooms on his lips, followed by a myriad of barely whispered words that would make you shiver from head to toe and tighten more into his embrace.

You’re thinking about it so insistently you don’t grasp that the boy’s now reached your table, haphazardly rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt while your mother teases him for dancing with all the bridesmaids; you can’t help but feel a pinch in your stomach when you think that that marvellous gummy smile on his crimson face has bloomed for everybody except for you, tonight.

In fact, when Yoongi’s stare lands on you, his happiness eclipses behind a contemptuous expression.

“What’s with that face, (Y/N)? You’re at a wedding, not a funeral!” your mother giggles, cheeks red with the wine. “That’s why nobody’s inviting you to dance,” she adds, taking a sip from the glass.

You puff out your cheeks. “That’s not true! Yoongi’s father invited me!”

“And I trampled on your feet all the time!” he laughs. “Maybe that’s the reason she isn’t dancing.” He smiles at you and you look at him with gratitude, ignoring your mother's babbling. “Why don’t you invite her to dance?” he suddenly proposes to his son and you immediately stiffen when the boy’s left eyelid trembles.

Only an idiot wouldn’t notice how Yoongi’s trying to avoid you with all his strength, but your parents are too drunk to understand it -or they still see you as the two children who bickered over something stupid and were too proud to take the first step to apologize.

You peer at Yoongi when he gets up quickly from the chair, almost annoyed, and you turn your face because the sight of him dancing with another of the bridesmaids is a stab to the heart. Then, like a butterfly just stopped on your shoulder, someone taps  lightly on it and when you lift your head up, you notice Yoongi beside you, toying with his Rolex.

“Move, or they won’t leave us in peace,” he mutters, walking towards the dance floor without even waiting for you.

You breath in deeply and follow him, sagging your shoulders when he stops and jams his hands into his pockets. This is the most horrible invitation to dance someone has ever made to you, but just a quick glance at his charred ears and scarlet neck is enough for your lips to pull up a bit.

You twiddle with your bracelets and gaze at him, searching for a trace of forgiveness in his deep coffee-irises. You hold his stormy stare hard and long, waiting for him to move a finger but when the music starts and you’re still distant, surrounded by dancing couples, you feel so pathetic you’re obliged to give up and look around the room.

Just when you're about to your table, too ashamed to stay there a second more, Yoongi reaches out his hand and gently grabs your fingers, dragging you closer to him. You shiver when he lightly rests his hand on your hip while the other fingers slip between the spaces of your own, and his good fresh scent makes you want to lay your head on his chest and stay like this forever.

You bravely restrain yourself from doing something stupid and stay there, a bit rigid, a bit awkward, yet still happy.

“You’ve improved,” you start  tentatively. “At the prom, you kept trampling on my feet.” You snort a laugh.

“Aina taught me a bit,” he says, emotionless.

You now lock your eyes with his and he does the same. The anger he washed you with all day long is slowly fading into disillusion, awkwardness and exhaustion.

Until he heavily sighs, lowering his head a bit. “I’m not mad because you don’t love me, I’m not a child anymore,” he mutters, “I’m mad because you treated me like any other guy.” He loses the grip on your hand and slowly caresses your side, resting his hand on your waist.

At the sight of the suffering now moulding his face, you feel all the words you weren’t able to say overlapping and climbing up your throat.

You can't let him down again. You can't make him suffer again…

“Yoongi, I… I owe you an apology for these four years, for the other night…” you gnaw on your bottom lip. “I’m deeply sorry. It’ just, I was so immature I—,” you stop, replaying in your head all those apologies you learned by memory since you decided to attend this wedding. “You probably changed, but I didn’t. I still make wishes when I see a shooting star. I’m still the (Y/N) who gets scared when relationships get serious because I’m so terrorized I prefer to run away. It’s easier, it doesn’t hurt… But if I never regretted how things went between me and Seokjin, well, I do with you.”

Yoongi sighs but doesn’t retreat or ask you to shut up.

You carefully pick up all those words that are sunken in your head. “There hasn’t been a time in which I haven’t been grateful that you were thrown into my life. I really hated Daegu, but you were the only one good reason that made me stop wishing to turn back time and praying for my father to not get his promotion.” Your voice quivers but you can’t control yourself anymore. “I liked you, Yoongi, I really did. But I was too scared to tell you and I couldn’t stop thinking that you’d leave me, sooner or later, just like my father did with my mother. And I was so stupid to not see that you’d give me all the time and space I needed to feel comfortable, instead.” You moisten your lips, feeling tremendously stupid for what you’ve just babbled.

On the other hand, Yoongi’s so astonished he doesn’t even breathe -if it wasn’t for his hands squeezing you lightly, you’d believe he died in your arms.

You catch a breath. “I know it’s late, but there’s something I gotta tell you.” And under his liquid eyes, in which so many emotions you can sink into them, you finally find the courage to tell him all those things you’ve kept locked in the deepest part of you for so long. “In all these years I’ve understood that no matter where I am or I go… No place on earth is the same if you aren’t with me.” You swallow. “Home is not Seoul, it’s not Daegu… It’s wherever you are, and I’m a fool for not having understood it earlier…” you bend over and rest your lips on his ear, feeling him tightening you more in his trembling embrace.

The music is muffled, you feel far away from this planet. You don’t care if people are watching you or if you don’t look like two friends sharing a dance. You only care about him, his heart patched too many times and the happiness you can give him with a few words he probably waited to hear for half of his life or more…

“Yoongi, I’d really love to see my wardrobe full of your clothes.”

If this was a movie, Yoongi would nestle his chin against your shoulder while tightening you in a bone-crushing hug. Then, he’d grab your hand and ask you to run away from this place together, telling you that he loves you to the moon and back, that he sees stars and galaxies when you stare back at him.

But this is the reality and in real life, Yoongi looks at you with a kind of stare you can’t interpret and whispers a cracked: “I’m sorry…” before leaving you all alone on the dance floor to keep your aching heart and your tears at bay.

He already made his decision and no matter how much you love him, he won’t wait for you anymore.

You look at him in the distance, running fingers through his hair, joking with your mother, rolling his eyes when his father talks, and you feel again like the small child who patiently waited for him to come out and ask you to play together.

Yoongi will always be your most excruciating regret not only about Daegu, but of your whole life, and there’s nothing you can do about the fact that time, for you, has already run out.

The night proceeds faster than you expected and before you could actually realise you’re going around with a bleeding heart and the most fake smiles you’ve ever used in all your life, you’re now melting into Teahyung’s arms.

“Thanks for coming, (Y/N),” he mutters.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you say back, cuddled by his throbbing heartbeat.

He pulls away and squeezes his hands on your shoulders, watching you euphoric. “Why don’t we do something tomorrow?!” he proposes, his stare flashing from you to Yoongi.

The boy scrunches his nose. “Aren’t you tired? I just wanna roll in my bed and not see the sun for a couple of days,” he comments, chuckling softly when Tae shoves him lightly.

“We should take advantage since (Y/N) is here!” he exclaims. “Why don’t we go to Apsan park or—“

“Actually, I’m departing tomorrow morning,” you interrupt.

“I thought you were going to stay here for another week.” This time, Yoongi is the one to speak, and you catch a note of confusion in his slurry voice that takes aback. His stare dances from your fingers twiddling with your bracelets to your shaky eyes as if he’d like to catch your thoughts.

“I… have to go back. For work. They anticipated the showroom and we’re late,” you mumble, averting his scorching gaze.

‘ Liar. Big, giant, liar!’

Your best friends look at you bemusedly. You’re aware they’ve understood this is as good a way as any to run away from Daegu as fast as you can, but you appreciate that they don’t deepen the conversation. You’re not doing it to test if Yoongi will do something crazy to keep you with him -it’s crystal clear his mind is already projected to his new life in Japan- but if you stay here one more day, your brain will reduce to a sludge of aching memories that will drive you crazy.

“Oh, if it’s like this…” you catch a glint of delusion in Tae’s eyes, but it immediately fades away when he says, “It means I’ll come to visit you more than before as a punishment.”

“You know my home is always open for you,” you admit, and a chuckle escapes from your mouth when the boy tightens you once more into his arms.

“Good luck, (Y/N). And call us more,” he scolds you, fondly.

You nod. “I’ll try.”

Tae messes with your hair before walking away and reaching Euna, who’s greeting some relatives.

You feel like a mother who’s seeing her small bird taking his first flight all alone, in a mixture of anxiousness and excitement that pulls your lips up, and when you see him intertwining his fingers with Euna’s, you can’t help but chew on your bottom lip and fight hard to not shed tears.

If you don’t cry, it’s only because Yoongi’s intensely staring at your profile and you don’t feel like falling into pieces in front of him.

You turn, dimly smiling. Now that you're alone, you don’t know how to start a goodbye speech. “I’ll miss you”, “I’ll call you every day”, “Seoul will be so boring without you”… these are the same things you told him four years ago, but you’re not so stupid to repeat them so easily, aware that it will be hard to keep them.

Suddenly, Yoongi breaks the silence. “Are you running away?”

You pause and for the first time since you have known him, you decide to be completely sincere about how you feel. “Yeah. Probably. Isn’t it what I do best?” you chuckle when he turns red. You lower your stare, staring at the folds of your long dress. “Well… if you happen to come to Seoul, call me, ok? For a coffee, for a tour… there isn’t much room in my apartment but you can sleep on my sofa. Or in my bed…” you blush at the image of Yoongi cocooned in your sheets now taking shape in your mind. “But you’ll probably come with Aina so you’ll book a hotel or something.”

Yoongi doesn’t move a finger and you restrain yourself from hugging him, expecting him to say something.

Like that the world won’t be the same without you...

More seconds elapse without him moving so you’re the first to turn, ready to leave everything behind once more. Then, coming to the realisation that you’ve always had many chances with him and you’ve let them all go, you call him, flashing him a smile that doesn't reach your teary-eyes...

“Yoongi? I really hope with Aina you’ll have all the things I couldn’t give you.”

Because he deserves all the good and the best of this world but, apparently, you aren’t the good and the best for him anymore.

Your mother’s umpteenth heavy sigh as she leans against the doorjamb of your bedroom makes you look heavenward before you go back to focusing again on the bag on your bed.

“Stop it.” You gaze over your shoulder, meeting her curled lips. “You know I’d love to stay here more but work is work.” This last sentence leaves a bad taste in your mouth, so you immediately hide the grimace now hardening your features from her.

She mumbles something under her breath; then, she walks in and helps you to collect the last things scattered around. “Geez, if you don’t take a break you’ll never find a boyfriend,” she comments, “I don’t like you being all alone in that apartment.” Her voice resounds sweet and full of concern, it heats up your chest as you feel your cheeks flaring.

“C’mon, I’m not alone. I’ve got Mochi!”

“That’s not a cat. That’s a four-legged threat.”

“You’re just mad because he broke your vase.” You chuckle, resting your hands on your hips once you’ve finished to put all your belongings in your luggage. You take a look around the room and a sense of nostalgia fills your heart. “Mom, I’m sorry for all the times you left a message and I didn’t call you back,” you suddenly say, catching her attention. “I… I promise I'll try to be more present. It's just that--” words falter and die in the back of your throat when she rests her hand on your cheek.

She smiles fondly and her eyes crinkle in the corner. “It’s ok, I know you never did it on purpose. You’re just like your father when it comes to work!” she squawks, making you chuckle. “I’m just glad you’re fine and you like Seoul. Just… come back home a bit more often.”

You nod. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’d be more than happy if you’d introduce me to some guy, the next time I come to visit you!”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “Again?! Don’t start!” you grab your back and put it on your shoulder.

You’d like to scream that the only boy who is worth enough to fill your solitude in Seoul is going to Japan with another woman but you shut up, throwing a glance to Yoongi’s window. This morning you caught his shape wandering around his bedroom, wrapped in his Puma jumpsuit as he was checking his phone, but you didn’t have the courage to call him and greet him.

You shake your head, swiping his memory away when a sudden stab painfully tugs at your heart.

“Call me when you arrive.” Your mother hugs you tight and you nod, melting in her embrace.

You’re overwhelmed by so many conflicting emotions that you feel catapulted in the past: when you were about to depart, your mother squeezed your hands so tight she could almost break them, and she couldn’t stop submerging you with an avalanche of recommendations, deadly scared for you being all alone in a big city. Just a few meters away, Yoongi sat on the stairs, waiting for you with his heavy eyes reduced to two sweet half-moons; and his cracked “So you’re finally going…” kept you company for all the trip, haunting you every now and then.

Today, though, he isn’t waiting for you.

You start walking to the bus with the asphyxiating sensation that you’ve made an irreparable mistake that ruined your friendship with Yoongi forever. You also start believing that you're going to jump from relationship to relationship from now on, because nobody will give you what Yoongi has always been able to give you with just his glances, his smiles and sweet gestures.

Thanks to him, you forgot about your hometown and started to appreciate Daegu when you were a little girl full of anger. He was your shoulder to cry on when your life didn't seem to work out, he was supportive and was always there beside when you were falling in pieces, ready to patch your heart patiently. He was the first you told about Seoul and no matter how much your decision broke his heart, he welcomed it with a huge smile and a sincere: “I’m proud of you.” because Yoongi always put your happiness in front of everything and everyone.

“Are you still using that old luggage?” a deep, rocky voice breaks through your consciousness.

And when you lift your head up, realising that Min Yoongi is actually in front of you in flesh and bones, next to the bus stop, your heart freezes -as much as your whole body does. You look at him with wide eyes, speechless, but the thing that immediately catches your attention and breath is the luggage he’s sitting on.

For a short moment, you rack your brain frantically in the desperate search of a reason behind his presence here, but everything leads to a painful ‘Don’t dream, he isn’t here for you’.

A dim smile etches itself on his face. “You had it when you went to Seoul the first time,” he adds, beckoning to the luggage you're gripping so tight that your knuckles become white.

“Tae and you bought it for my graduation, I don't have the heart to throw it away…” you explain, vaguely, still dazed by the marvelous sight before you -he's wearing black jeans that perfectly wrap his thing legs and a white t-shirt; nothing too revealing, but it makes you see galaxies and shooting stars behind your eyes anyway. You shake your head, trying to come back on Earth. “Yoongi, I… what are you doing here?” you manage to ask, tilting your head to the side.

He crosses his arms and shrugs. His legs visibly shake but you can’t take your eyes off his red-rimmed eyes. “I didn’t know when you were going to depart, so I’ve been waiting here since 7:00 AM,” he admits with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his crimson ear.

“A text would’ve been fine.”

He scrunches his nose and throws a quick glance to his luggage. “And lose the element of surprise?” he smirks. You stare at each other, wordlessly, then Yoongi breaks the silence with a sigh. “I… I thought a lot about the things you told me, I couldn’t sleep at all.” His fingers crawl over his knees, squeezing them. “And, well, you know—Shit, things were so cool in my head!“ he curses between his teeth and hides his red face behind his hands. “It can’t end like this. It’s (Y/N), I told myself, she deserves more. We both deserve it,” he concludes, moistening his lips.

You open your mouth but you find that words have deserted you. You should be walking on sunshine, you should feel your heart burst for happiness... and yet, your legs are paralyzed, your vision is blurry and all the courage you used to confess to him yesterday now seems nowhere to be found.

His stare dances from your shaky eyes full of terror to your fingers torturing your bracelets. At that sight, he dimly smiles and gingerly grabs your hands, caressing them with his thumbs. “You always had this bad habit. I find it pretty cute, it was your silent way to tell me that you weren’t at ease…” his voice’s buttered with sweetness and you instantly blush, feeling your body inch away unconsciously. However, Yoong doesn't seem intentioned to let you go this time because every time you back off, he always pulls you closer. “I didn’t want to scare you, (Y/N)...” he sighs and lowers his head. “A call would’ve been better.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t expect you to come here…  Why should you, when Aina Saito’s waiting for you in Japan?” you chew on your bottom lip.

Why should he be so crazy to close immediately a bracket of his life that will probably bring him joy and success both in love and work, while you can only offer him a small flat in Seoul and your phobias?

But Yoongi looks at you as if he had just found the right place on Earth, and that smile now blooming on his face makes you think that maybe you’re still the good and the best for him, despite the turn that your relationship took.

He pokes his tongue on his cheek. “We talked. Well, we argued… a lot. The fact is that I don't love her anymore while I, for you, I--” he coughs, trying to swipe away that quiver in his voice. “(Y/N), I’ve waited for this moment for so long, I’m not so stupid to let you go, not this time” he mutters, “Four years ago, I knew this was the right choice for you. You were building something with your own hands and I had no right to stop you,” he confesses, bitterly. “And it’s not even my intention to stop you now... but this time, I want to take a seat next to you.”

Your eyes grow bigger. His words set your whole body on fire and a slight tingling starts crawling in your legs, now trembling like two pieces of jelly. You’d like to run away but Yoongi’s grip is so firm you can’t move a finger.

“Are you sure?” your voice sounds scratchy in the chilly morning air, and you don’t even want to know what kind of face you’re doing right now. You catch a breath. “W-what if things don’t work? What if I panic and I decide I don’t want you anymore, even if I really want you?” you fall apart and Yoongi squeezes your hands more, locking his shimmering eyes with yours. “I’m clearly not meant to be in a relationship, you were right. I will screw everything up, in the end, and you don't deserve it, you--”

“You don't deserve it too.” He stands up when he notices that the color is draining from your face. “Hey, shh, calm down,” he whispers, as his hands climb up slowly, caressing your arms. “(Y/N), we don’t have to rush. We’ll take things slow, at your pace… I can wait for you.” He tucks your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on your cheek. “I’m scared too but I don’t want to go to Japan knowing that I could be missing my once-a-lifetime opportunity. I can't lose you, I would regret it for the rest of my life.” He moistens his lips, patiently waiting for a reply that doesn’t come.

You just know that you’re glad he’s here and didn’t give you up.

You’d like to tell him all the things racing through your mind right now: that you like him, you always did; you like him so much that you can’t picture your life without him and when you do, you feel as if an important piece of your existence is missing. Or that for you, as cliché as it is, he’s indispensable like breathing, eating; he’s comparable to that sense of relief you feel whenever you come back home from ones of your long exhausting trips, to that sense of peacefulness that wraps you when you wake up early and find out that it’s Sunday and you can sleep a bit more.

Yoongi is all those things that make you think that you life is beautiful, and you must enjoy every single instant

However, you don’t know where to begin. So you hug him, out of the blue, resting your head on his chest. A smile blooms on your lips when his heart beats faster and when his hand cups your nape, you realise you’ve got all the time you want to tell him how much you adore him.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours, but suddenly Yoongi’s hoarse voice breaks your stillness.

“How long does it take to get to Seoul?”

“3 hours, more or less. Why?”

He places a long kiss on your forehead, then his lips slide down to your nose. “I think that’s enough time to tell you all the things I’ve always wanted to do with you, and I still want to do,” he whispers against your mouth before sealing it with his own.

Yoongi doesn’t rush, he’s delicate as if you really had an ocean of time in your hands. And as more seconds elapse into his arms, you feel there’s nothing to be afraid of. You hug him tighter, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, and you tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss.

Geez, you can’t stop thinking about all the time you’ve lost...

You inch away to catch some breath and Yoongi rubs his nose against your own, staring at you with shimmering eyes. Sinking into his coffee-like irises, you suddenly feel words climb up your throat. “Listen, there’s a thing you don’t know about me… I already live with someone I love with all my heart.” You twiddle with the collar of his shirt, letting out an airy laugh when he knits his brows, pouting. “His name’s Mochi and he’s a fat Himalayan who I can’t let onto the balcony because I’m scared he could fall from the banister and die. He’s stupid, he smashes against windows and doors, he gets scared for nothing and he occupies half of my bed… so if you accept me, you’ve to accept him too.”

Yoongi blinks a couple of times, then he chuckles. It’s amazing how his amused laugh not only breaks the stillness of the city still asleep, but it’s able to wash away every ounce of nervousness crawling in your veins too.

“I can live with him… and, actually, there's a thing I need to tell you too,” he replies, resting his forehead on yours. “(Y/N), I lied when I told you that Aina was the first woman I wanted to build my life with: you were the first.” He punctuates every word with a chaste kiss on your stretched lips and you melt in the grip of his hands cupping your face. “I’ve always loved you, (Y/N). And I really hope there will be a bit of space for my clothes in your wardrobe, someday.”

You no longer feel the ground beneath your feet when his confession flies in the air, and you admit to yourself that the way Seokjin used to tell you ‘I love you’ isn’t comparable to the rush of joy that's spreading inside of you right now.

The way your name sounds, the way your eyes sparkle when you look at him, the way your heart pumps harder in your chest, the way your body feels so light you might float in the air…

With Yoongi, everything assumes another taste.

You pull away, floating in his eyes full of expectation, and you cup his face too, smiling so much that you can feel your cheeks hurt.

You're ready let yourself go to the unconditional love Yoongi has always felt for you, finally understanding what Taehyung was trying to tell you: your fears will always be here, devouring you; but the desire to see how far you can go side by side to the incredible man who's staring back at you as if the whole world was in his hands is too overwhelming to give up…

“You can have all the room in the world,” you whisper against his lips, now open in a beautiful gummy smile.

And you can’t wait for your life to start entwining with his.