Archive of Our Own ^beta

Your cellphone screamed at you from the other side of the room, tugging you out of your dreams as if it was trying to pull you from quicksand.
Your alarm was set to increase in volume gradually, and judging by the racket it was currently making, it had been going off for some time. Grunting, you peeled your body away from the mattress, feeling like your muscles had been replaced by solid concrete. It was a slow and almost painful trudge to where your phone was howling, but you managed to reach it across the room without stumbling over anything.
It was a small miracle that all three of your roommates had already woken up and left the apartment, so that your insistent waking-up device didn't disturb them now.
Why such a dramatic method to wake up, you ask? Well, the night before you had gotten back to your dorm late, and were so tired that you had crashed in your bed without even changing out of your clothes.
What you had done on the bus back home was check your blood sugar levels. Since it was high, you had applied the right amount of insulin to correct that, and to take into account the cereal bar you had gulped down moments ago. The lack of sleep and tiredness from cramming for that day's exams wasn't helped by the hyperglycemia; your body felt like it was running on molasses instead of blood. So when you got home, you didn't even think about dinner: you had barely managed to get your shoes off by the door. Of course, not having dinner wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that you were the proud owner of one (1) body with type one diabetes. Which decided to act up at the wee hours of the morning.

5:23am, to be precise.

You'd woken up fully conscious, which was the first sign something was wrong (you usually needed 20 min of snoozing the alarm every 5 minutes to be able to get out of the land of Dream and to be truly awake). The second sign was the bed sheets clinging to your sweat-drenched body. And... yep! There it was. That weird feeling, impossible to describe, of a tremor quivering just under your skin, and that feeling rolling between your throat and your sternum that something is loose.
It all pointed to the same conclusion: your blood sugar levels were low.
At that moment, getting out of bed hadn't felt like a herculean task. But you had kicked your bed's leg and knocked the door frame with your shoulder on your way into the shared kitchen, so there was that. You checked your blood sugar with trembling fingers (48, and going down), and gulped half a can of Coke before taking a breath. After that, and while sipping on the rest of the soda, you started on a packet of instant ramen (since you were starving).
By the time you were done getting your sugar back to a normal range, and had gulped down your ramen, it was a few minutes past 6am. Which had put you in a dilemma, since you were supposed to wake up at seven. But sleep was already coming back to you, the traces of low blood sugar all but disappeared from your system, and you so wanted to get back to bed. You also knew, from previous experience, waking up after experiencing hypoglycemia during the early morning was hard.
But you were so tired.
So finally you had decided to throw caution to the wind, placing your cellphone as far away from you as you could in your shared bedroom, and laid back down for an hour more of sleep. You hoped that not having your cellphone at arm's reach will prevent you from unconsciously turning the alarm off.

So that brought us back to this fine Friday morning, the alarm's yells still blaring in your mind, where your body was screaming to you to get back in bed, and you wanted to cry. Still, you pushed through and kept moving: away, away from the bed and into the shower, in an almost zombie-like way.
The running water helped clear your head a bit, while washing away the dried sweat from your hypoglycemia an hour ago. And a gigantic cup of coffee did wonders to clear some of the fog settled over your brain, but it still wasn't enough. Your morning blood sugar check revealed high levels (you had forgotten to get the insulin corresponding to the ramen you ate), so that might be why you still felt like crap.
Well, that and all the studying, and tests, and finishing papers you've done this past weeks. Today were the last revisions for the final two tests of the year, and you couldn't miss the lectures. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten out of bed.
You got to your university on time, tunneled vision on getting there, and plopping down on a tiny chair with the table attached, just as the teacher walked in. And it seems that that was all that your brain was capable of being useful for. The class felt like pure misery, with your brain on strike as it was: it took you double the effort to jot down notes, and you tried your best to make your handwriting as legible as humanly possible. But it was going to be a hard one to decipher over the weekend.
Future-you problems, you rationalized.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your crush sitting back on his chair across the classroom. Yoongi was scribbling on his notebook, and his posture was relaxed, almost like he already knew everything the professor was saying. His glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, and you wondered why that didn't bother him, adjusting yours unconsciously. His head turned then and your eyes met, eliciting a smirk from the man. You felt your face heat up, and promptly turned your attention back to the professor, realizing that you missed a chunk of her lecture while staring at Yoongi.
Floundering a bit, you started writing whatever she was saying, your brain taking a moment to shift attention from Yoongi to the lecture. Damn that man, he was a menace for your senses.
During the break you ran to the toilet to splash your face with water, and then bought the biggest coffee available on the coffee cart outside your classroom. By the time the class ended and it was time for lunch, you felt like death personified.
You sat there for a moment while the classroom cleared, buffering. When there was no-one left, and with your movements sluggish, you managed to put your things away, only dropping the empty styrofoam coffee cup and your pen in the process.
"You should get a reusable tumbler, you know?" A deep voice said above you. Since you were currently putting things into your backpack on the floor, a pair of black Vans and the frayed hem of black skinny jeans were all the information you got about the person in front of you.
And that was all you needed to know who it was.
Gods, your infatuation with this man was getting out of hand.
"I have one, Yoongi, I just forgot it at home," you scowled, grabbing the pen he handed you, and stuffing it into your bag, closing the zipper. When you looked up, he was smirking at you, and your stomach flipped. He was gorgeous.
Fuck, you had it bad.
His hair was falling over his eyes from the way he was looking down at you, his glasses nowhere to be seen, and he was wearing an extremely oversized shirt. One so big you figured it must even fit you loosely.
Your heart beating on your throat from the thought of wearing his clothes, you started to stand up with some difficulty, looking everywhere but at him. These chairs with tables attached were a nightmare for plus size people, especially the one you were sitting in, where the table was stuck and you couldn't fold it out of the way to get out.
After managing to extricate yourself from the fat-trap, you cleared your throat and turned to grab your backpack, noticing it was now slung over his shoulder.
"Thanks, but I can take that," you said, reaching up to remove the strap from his shoulder, but he moved out of your way easily.
"I'll manage," he drawled out, turning away from you, and started walking away without a backwards glance to check if you were following. You scrambled to reach him and followed him in silence, too tired and stunned by his actions to try and make small talk.
He was part of your friend's group, one you had been part of for a short while now, but you still haven't had many chances to interact with him. Or, at all. Still, that didn't stop you from developing a heart-wrenching crush on the man who was quiet and talked little, and when he smiled lit up the room. You haven't heard him laugh, yet, only saw him laughing from across the room occasionally, in some of the parties you had attended with them.
You had first met a friend of Yoongi's, Hoseok, in your first year of university, and had clicked instantly with him. Hobi had become a friend in no time, his sunshine personality impossible to not love. But between work and life you had been unable to take all the classes required that year, so he quickly advanced on the course while you slugged behind. So you lost contact with him after your second year, but four years later you reconnected thanks to Jungkook. You had shared some classes with him and spoke little, but by the time midterm exams were upon you, he had shyly approached you after class. "I always see you in the library, nuna. Can I study with you?"
His doe eyes were impossible to say no to, even if you had wanted to. Which you didn't.

So that's how, when you walked into a party he invited you to after the exams were over, you were greeted by a man screaming your name at the top of his lungs and running towards you, slamming into you, his arms winding around you to pull you in a tight hug before you had a chance to understand what was happening. If you had been a smaller person, you would've both toppled backwards from the force of his impact, the man was strong.
"Hobi?!" You said, pushing the slender, muscled man away from you to look into his smiling face. "Oh my gods, it's been so long!!" You exclaimed, crushing him back into the hug, his arms squeezing you tightly once more.
"You know each other?!?" Jungkook had exclaimed over the music, while Hobi finally released you and pulled you by the hand to a table on the VIP section. The bouncer gave you a once-over and raised his eyebrow, but didn't stop you since you were being pulled past the entryway by Hobi, who he clearly recognized. You lifted your chin and smirked at him, throwing him a wink for good measure, and the bouncer scowled.
You were then introduced to Jungkook and Hobi's group of friends, but there were so many people that night that you didn't register most of the names.
That night was fun, and was the beginning of many shared with them.

Eventually you learnt their names, and realized that the core group of friends was just seven of them, others coming and going. Most of the women didn't stay for long in the time you had known them, so you figured the reason you were able to be integrated so seamlessly into the close-knitted group of men was because you weren't hook-up material. At least, you realized that's how people usually saw you: plus-sized people weren't sexually appealing to most, so it was almost as if you were one of the boys. Well, they were definitely men, but you liked to tease them by calling them 'your boys', since they all were younger than you.
You still remembered fondly when they invited you to participate in their yearly powerpoint presentation, dubbed 'Festa', during the midterm break. They had been doing this for years, and they all had to show something to the group. Some sang, some rapped (you didn't know Yoongi could even talk that fast), Namjoon talked about Yun Hyong-keun's work. Whatever you did, it had to be less than 10 minutes long (including Q&A, if there was a need for it), because there were 8 of you, and if not the presentations would take the whole night. Which ended up happening, because you decided to talk about diabetes, and since you went last (by your request), the Q&A portion of your presentation stretched well into the wee hours of the morning.
It was so rewarding that they all wanted to know more about the disease, and how to help you (or anyone who had diabetes) in different scenarios.

After the midterm break, you had run into some of them in the classes you were taking. Jin always sat next to you and jokingly complained about the younger ones (he was the one closer in age to you, but had started school later, so you still shared some clases). Yoongi on the other hand, other than a polite nod or wave sent your way, barely interacted with you. You only shared one class with Jimin, but it was one that you also shared with Yoongi, so the two men always sat together, and you always declined his invitation to sit with them. Jimin was beyond sweet, but you had the distinct impression that Yoongi didn't quite like you.

That's why it was quite a shock to your system that he had now grabbed your backpack and empty cup from you, tossing the cup into a bin when you walked past one. You both walked into the cafeteria, and you followed him to a table where Jungkook and Seokjin were already sitting. When he sat down and placed your bag next to him on the bench, you timidly grabbed it to slung it over your shoulder, but his hand shot up to grab your wrist, stopping you. He didn't say anything, just raised his eyebrow, and you had to clear your throat to speak.
"I- I didn't bring any food, I need to buy some." He released you then, and you turned as soon as you felt him break the contact, your face burning from the sudden touch.
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts of Yoongi, you grabbed a sandwich and a can of diet soda, and wearily walked to the checkout to pay. Your thoughts were sluggish from sleep, and you were struggling to take the correct amount from your wallet to give to the cashier when someone swiped their card on your purchase. Looking up, the boxy smile from Taehyung practically blinded you.
"I got you, don't worry," he said, grabbing your items with one hand and guiding you by your lower back towards the table.
You sat down between him and Hoseok, and waved in response to everyone's greeting, digging into your food without another glance up and droning out everyone's conversation.
You were almost to the end of your sandwich when you realized something.
"Shit, shit, fuck," you muttered under your breath, shaking the crumbs out of your hands and fishing for your glucometer out of the bag.
Sky high blood sugar levels.
Shit.
You felt like crying, why was your sugar this high? Even if you already had most of the sandwich, it was going to be a while for its sugars to be absorbed into your bloodstream. So what was it?
Feeling like crying, you wracked your brain, trying to find the reason.
And when you realized your mistake, you finally broke down crying.
"What happened?!" someone said, calling your name; and this, plus Hobi's arms around you, brought you back to reality. Through your tears you noticed everyone was looking at you, expressions worried. Embarrassed, you buried your face on Hobi's shoulder, and tried to calm down enough to explain to them.
"My sugar's high, and I just realized I forgot to give myself my morning basal shot." You started crying again, feeling more than overwhelmed, and Hobi made soothing noises, both him and Tae stroking your back.
Between the stress of the exams, your early morning low blood sugar episode, the lack of sleep and the overall exhaustion, it seemed you had reached your limit. Forgetting to give yourself the morning insulin shot felt like a rookie mistake, one you felt like shit for making after having 20+ years of diabetes in you.
"I don't think it is a rookie mistake," Hobi said, and his words made you realize you had said aloud some of what you were thinking about. Or were you completely thinking out loud by now? That sometimes happened when you were this drained.
"What can you do about it?" Tae asked. "Do you want to call your doctor?"
His words managed to ground you, and you nodded into Hobi's shoulder, after squeezing his hand in thanks, and turned to grab your phone.
You sent a text to your doctor and she immediately called you, since she was between patients right at that moment, as she explained. The phone call with her managed to calm you a bit, and you followed her indications, applied the insulin shot as she instructed, and programmed an alarm in your phone to avoid forgetting the next shot.
After you blew your nose once more and wiped your face with a wet tissue that Jin handed you, you finally turned to the rest of the table. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you all." Most send warm smiles your way, except for Yoongi who had an impassive face, almost looking bored. Hobi's hand, back to drawing warm circles on your back, was extremely comforting, and you leant into his touch, happy to have such a good friend by your side. "I'm just so fucking tired today," you explained. "It seems my brain is on strike."
"Go home then," Jin said, shrugging. "You need to sleep more than you need to sit for the next class."
"No, I really need today's notes. I've been having problems with the last part of the book, and I really need to sit in on this revision."
But Jin was having none of it. "Nope, you don't." His tone was firm, leaving no room for discussion. "I'll record today's lecture, and take the most detailed, best-written notes you've ever seen. You just go home already."
You smiled warmly at him, reaching across the table to squeeze the hand he had laying on the table. Still, you couldn't help but tease him.
"You know I can't read Korean, right? You have to write it in English," you smirked, and he scoffed, turning his face away from you in mock offense, murmuring something in Korean under his breath. Still, his hand turned in yours and squeezed back, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Thanks Jinnie," you said, releasing his hand and starting to gather your things. "I'm gonna take you up on your offer, you are a lifesaver."
"I know," he said haughtily, and you couldn't help but giggle.
"I'll take you," said a firm voice, followed by the sound of keys, and your head shot up.
"What?" You said, gaping a bit at Yoongi getting up from the table. "What about your afternoon classes?"
"I don't have any," he shrugged, and you looked around the table, trying to see if anyone was going to contradict him. But everyone else seemed more focused on you than him, so you shook your head and stood up.
"I'm fine, Yoongi-ssi, I can catch the bus home. You don't need to go out of your way."
You didn't miss his startled expression when you used the honorific, but he quickly schooled his expression. What you did miss was the way Hoseok's jaw almost hit the floor, and the looks everyone else gave you. You had never used Korean honorifics with them, and always asked for permission before using nicknames for them, making sure they were comfortable with it.
Yoongi scowled at you, grabbing your bag for you once more. "I'm driving you. End of discussion." He stalked out of the cafeteria and you hurriedly waved everyone goodbye and scurried after him, struggling to catch up between the throngs of people exiting the eating area.
Thankfully he slowed his pace after a moment and you managed to catch up to him. This time, when you reached to grab your bag from him, he didn't resist, and you managed to slide the strap from his shoulder and slid it over yours, neither of you breaking your stride.
He was silent even as he led you to his parked car, and you didn't say anything else.
Once you were out of the parking lot and exiting the campus, you rolled the windows down, the silence in the car becoming oppressive.
"I can turn the AC on," he said, but you shook your head.
"It's nice outside today, not too warm. I like the fresh air."
Well, as fresh as it could be in the middle of a bustling city.
His place was nowhere near yours, and the drive to your home from uni could be between 30 minutes and an hour. You winced thinking about it, and sighed.
"Look Yoongi, I appreciate your offer, but you don't need to drive me all the way to my place. Let's go to yours, and I can grab the metro there, it's not a big deal."
His jaw ticked, and your stomach did an acrobatic flip. Shit, he was gorgeous.
Something crossed his expression too fast for you to register, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead, silent as always. Finally, when a traffic light stopped him, he turned to you. "I like driving, and I don't mind taking you home. Quit trying to get away from me."
The way he worded it made your face burn with... something, so you turned away from him, and settled on watching through the door window.
"Thank you," you said softly, not looking at him, and his huff of a laugh let you know that he had heard you.
Was that... Had that been a laugh?
Still, the world keep turning, unaware of your astonishment: the light turned green, the car rumbled under you, and to your place he drove you.

You must've fallen asleep at some point during the ride, for he was softly shaking your arm to wake you up, and you noticed the car was already parked on your doorstep.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed, removing your glasses and scrubbing your face. His face was blurry and out of focus when you turned to him, smiling bashfully. "Sorry for falling asleep on you." You placed your glasses back on your face, his face coming back into focus. "Thank you so much for driving my sleeping ass all the way here. I really hope the drive wasn't too bad."
"It was fine," he shrugged, and you couldn't help but snort at his nonchalance, shaking your head fondly.
"Whatever you say, Yoongi-ssi."
You were about to open the door but his arm shot in front of you and grabbed your hand on the door handle, stopping your movements.
"Why?" he said, and your eyes flew to meet his own, his face closer than it had ever been.
Your breath caught in your throat, but you managed to choke out: "Why... what?"
He raised an eyebrow and sighed, and his breath tickled your neck. "You call the others by nicknames. Why the honorifics with me?"
"Oh." You took a moment to think about it, since your brain was still processing the feeling of his breath on your skin. "It's... I don't know, I thought you didn't like me much. So I did some research, and if I addressed you correctly, I hoped you'd eventually warm up to me. Was the suffix wrong?"
He released your hand but his posture didn't change, still leaning into your space. "It's not wrong," he said slowly, his tone low, but didn't explain further.
That rumbling voice did something to your chest that you didn't have the headspace to acknowledge at that moment.
"What-" Your voice sounded ragged, so you cleared your throat and tried again. "What should I call you?"
He said something in Korean that you didn't understand, and you shook your head. "I don't know what that means."
He 'humphed' (so cute!) and leant back, finally allowing you to breathe. "You'll have to find some nickname for me then. I'll ask you after the exams are done what you came up with."
And with that delicious smirk on his face as a goodbye, you exited the car, your heart in your throat preventing you from saying anything else.

After that day with the whole insulin debacle and Yoongi driving you home, Jin and Yoongi insisted on you joining them for cramming sessions that weekend, the notes that Jin took for you were perfectly detailed and so helpful to you. You also ended up using Yoongi's notes of that last revision because between the handwriting and the time lapses, your own were useless.
The boys all lived in the same building, sharing apartments in twos and threes, and you never knew who lived where and with whom. They all crashed wherever they wanted, no rhyme or reason to their sleeping arrangements. At least that was the procedure the nights you stayed until late with them. For studying purposes, you set base in one of those apartments, spending all day there studying with them, but never slept there. They always insisted on paying for a car to take you home, sometimes one of them driving you back themselves.
They all came from money, and most of them had their own cars. From what they've told you, they all knew each other from childhood, growing up in a tight-knit Korean community located in the city you were all living in now.

So a week after that fateful morning, the exams were finally over, and the boys decided to organize a whole ass fancy party. Well, it was because Hoseok and Jimin were graduating that year, so they wanted to celebrate it by forcing everyone into fancy dresses and suits.
Jokes on them, you loved getting dressed up (especially ever since recently you found some shops that carried your size and made dresses exactly in the styles you loved).

You were currently getting ready, putting the final touched on your makeup when your phone dinged, a message letting you know to go out whenever you were ready.
A couple of days ago you received a message from Hobi, saying: 'one of us is going to pick you up.' And before you had a chance to type anything back, a second message appeared on your screen. 'Don't fight me on this, it's happening! 20hs good for you?'
You typed a quick 'yes!' and 'thank you, I love you!' and he sent you back a screen full of hearts.
So now you hurried to the door, doing a quick check to make sure you had your insulin and glucometer in your bag, stuffing your cellphone there and grabbing your keys and jacket. After slipping into your shoes, you walked outside the apartment, closing the door behind you. You forgo the stairs this time, choosing instead to ride the one floor down on the elevator, since the dress you were wearing was short and form-fitted enough that it would ride all the way up if you tried to walk down stairs.
When you opened the street door, the shock almost made you stumble down the short flight of stairs on your front door.
The man waiting outside for you stopped pacing and looked up the stairs to where you stood frozen in place, and you were glad his back had been turned to you when you emerged from the building. You had managed to school your expression into something civil, from the jaw drop you did when you spotted his hair in a half-bun. Gods above, this man was going to be the actual death of you.
Yoongi was dressed smartly, in a black three piece suit and white button down, no tie or bowtie in sight. When you smiled at him, he seemed to be shaken out of his reverie, and he took the steps two at a time to stand on the top step, next to you.
"You are gorgeous," he said, a low rumble of a compliment, and your knees wobbled.
"You are beautiful, too," you answered, emboldened by the way he phrased it. His smile was the best reward you could ask for.
Yoongi offered his arm and you took it, your other hand holding your jacket and in front of the hem of your dress so that you didn't accidentally flash anyone on the street. This dress was short, all smooth black satin wrapped around your figure and sporting a nice, low, plunging neckline.
Sure, it didn't leave much to the imagination, but you loved how it fit you. And you felt like a goddess in it, which was the most important part. You've chosen jewelry that was small and delicate, and your shoes gave you the extra confidence boost that height brought.
Yoongi let go of your arm when you reached the car, opening the door for you and waiting until you were seated to close it behind you. You took advantage of the time it took him to walk around the car to get to his door, to try and shimmy some of the dress down so that it wouldn't ride up and accidentally flash him. Realizing it was a lost cause, you placed your jacket on your lap as primly as you could and put the seatbelt on, smoothing the dress under it. The strap pushed between your boobs uncomfortably, digging into the exposed skin there, but there was not a chance you weren't going to use the seatbelt. So it seemed that you had to withstand this nuisance for the duration of the ride.
Yoongi barely glanced in your direction and remained silent while driving, only asking about the temperature of the car and explaining how to adjust it if you needed to. Twenty minutes into the drive, and realising you had more that half of the way ahead, you cleared your throat and turned in your seat, trying to keep the seat belt away from your chest.
"I thought about your nickname."
You waited for him to acknowledge you, and after a moment he did with a quick flick of his eyes in your direction, and gave you a low "you did?"
"Yoon," you said. "Can I call you Yoon?"
"No," he said simply, but his tone wasn't unkind. After a beat of silence, in which you thought he wasn't going to say anything else, he added: "It's too similar to what you call Namjoon."
You pouted at this, looking at your hand in your lap, the other still pulling on the seatbelt's strap. "I know, I have trouble pronouncing both." When he only snorted in response, your pout deepened. "Tell me what to call you, then."
"Jagiya," he said, smirking at you. Again with that shit-eating grin of his, why was it so sexy on his face?!
Trying to appear unaffected, you blew a hair out of your face in exasperation. "I still don't know what that means."
He just smiled mischievously at you, and your breath caught in your throat.
After a bet of silence, you cleared your throat. Change the subject, yes. That's a good strategy.
"How did you do on the exams?"
He sent you a questioning glance, but answered anyway: "I think it was alright."
"I'm glad," you said, truthfully. "Thanks for coming to pick me up, by the way. Why didn't anyone else ride with you?"
"They weren't ready yet."
"So we'll be the first ones to arrive?"
"Am I not enough for you, jagi?" His tone was teasing.
Teasing.
'What is happening right now?' You thought, bewildered.
You chuckled nervously, but still tried to answer him, chewing on your lower lip. "I just-" you took a deep breath and continued, deciding that head-on honesty was your best shot. "I always got the feeling you weren't comfortable around me. So I was wondering why the others would force you to come pick me up. I could've taken a cab."
"They didn't," he said, ignoring the first part of your statement. "I decided on my own."
"Oh."
Still, he didn't deny your statement that he might be uncomfortable with you. So you pressed on. "Is this some kind of exposure therapy?"
"No. I like you."
His bluntness made your jaw drop. And from the shock you released the seatbelt you'd been pulling away from you, making it snap back against your skin.
"Ow," you muttered, pulling on the strap again and massaging the skin on your neck where it had burnt when pulling back.
"Are you alright?" He laughed, not sounding worried at all.
"Peachy," you mumbled, looking out of the window and turning up the AC. Between his full on laugh now, the revelation in his statement, and the embarrassment of being slapped on your tits by a seatbelt, your face felt like it was on fire.
He turned the music on then, connecting the Bluetooth on his phone one-one handed, and you didn't make any effort to pick up the conversation again.

By the time you arrived at the venue, you were beyond ready to get out of the car. The seatbelt was killing you, and you felt like there was something pulled taut between Yoongi and you.
You didn't know what, but it confused you.
Yoongi parked expertly, and you barely waited for the car to be still to release the seat belt, breathing in relief and massaging your neck. You both opened the car doors at the same time, but by the time Yoongi was out of the car, closing the door behind him, you had barely had time to rearrange the dress around you, and swing your legs out. He was in front of you in a flash, his hand extended to help you get out.
You hesitated for a moment before grabbing his hand firmly and sending a prayer, hoping that he was strong enough to help you up. It was your best bet to get out of the car maintaining some decorum, after all.
But he surprised you, yet again. He was stronger than he looked, by the way he pulled you up without as much as a huff of effort on his part. In fact, you weren't expecting him to pull so strongly, so you tipped into his chest, your hands splayed over the lapels of his suit for a moment to break your fall, before you righted yourself. He was firm, and you felt his warmth even through the shirt and jacket covering him.
You felt your face warm up, and stepped out of his personal space while you cleared your throat. It wasn't until his hand left your lower back that you noticed it had been there, his arm around you to give you some more stability.
"Sorry, I'm not used to these shoes yet," you mumbled and he just nodded, offering his arm to you.
You walked into the party, your hand on the crook of his elbow, trying not to hang on to him but finding it difficult because of the paved road up to the ballroom.
"Who places such uneven stones in the path to a party venue? Does anyone ever think about people in high heels?"
Yoongi just laughed under his breath at your antics, and you only noticed because you felt his chest rumble with the back of your hand, pressed as it was between his arm and his upper body.
You had been looking down, making sure to step only on the most even stones, so you didn't notice the three men approaching you until you were surrounded by them.
"Oh my god, look at you!" Hobi exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. But you were quickly removed from his arms by Jin's hands, making you dip backwards. "You are stunning, my dear," he rumbled, and you pushed him away, chuckling, once he righted you. He was strong, too, to be able to dip you so effortlessly. But you never doubted that, his broad back gave away the strength within him.
"Wait, what's that!" Jimin said once you faced him to say hello, his hand coming up to stroke the skin on your neck, where the seatbelt burnt you.
"Seatbelt," you said, shivering a bit from the feather-like touch, and they all blanched and turned to Yoongi, the man turning a step back at the sudden scrutiny from the other three.
"You were in an accident?!?"
"Hyung, what did you do!"
"Yoongi-ah! Why is her beautiful skin marked?"
You raised your hands, trying to explain. "No, no, it wasn't him! Yoongi-ssi's driving is impecable. It was me, I had been pulling on the seatbelt and released it suddenly, so it scraped my neck. I'm alright, 'tis but a scratch," you said, putting on a fake English accent to say the last part. But none of them showed any signs of recognition, so you shook your head. "Heathens. Come on, let's get you all inside."
You linked your arm with Hobi's and together you walked towards the venue, the rest of them following behind you, talking in Korean among themselves. They sometimes did that, and you guessed they did that whenever you weren't around, falling back into their family's tongue. You shook your dejection, reminding yourself they weren't trying to exclude you from the conversation, it was what was natural for them.
"You are beyond stunning today," Hobi brought your attention back to him, shaking your arm lightly. "I mean it."
"Speak for yourself, man." He was dressed in a black oversized suit, his black shirt opened almost to his navel, showing a lot of skin. His hair was slicked back, and- "Are those high-heeled boots?" He smiled mischievously at you, and you snorted. "They suit you. And I love what you did to your hair... If you don't get some action tonight, it's because you had to fight off all of your admirers with a shield and sword."
He laughed fondly at you, and you released his arm in lieu of looping your arm around his waist, him doing the same.
The boys showed you to the table you'd be sharing with the others during dinner, and you made sure to pick a seat facing the dance floor.
The others arrived shortly, and you were eventually introduced to the families of Hobi and Jimin when they arrived to take part in the party celebrating their sons.
It was while you were all eating dessert that you remembered something, so you leant into Jin's space, who was sitting on your left, and quietly asked him: "Jin, what does 'jagiya' mean?"
He coughed into his water, spilling some on the table in front of him. With your napkin, you dabbled a couple of drops that had fallen on his suit while he coughed, getting his breathing back, and waving away the other's worried looks.
"Do you want to call me that?" He teased after collected himself, and you rolled your eyes.
"Pinches coreanos hablando en su idioma como si yo les entendiera." (Korean pricks, talking in their language as if I understood them.)
When Jin looked at you confused, you snorted. "Not so funny when it's Spanish, right?"
His squeaky laugh made you smile fondly, he was such a cute man.
"Anyways, I still don't know what 'jagiya' means," you grumbled, fighting the smile off your face. "Yoongi said to call him that... Is it something inappropriate?"
Jin's face froze mid-laugh and he reached for his wine glass, downing it in two gulps. The music then started, and it seemed like he deflated in relief.
"Come on, honey. Let's dance," he said, pulling you to your feet and leading you to the rapidly filling dance floor.
You forgot about 'jagiya' and all that, and never got a chance to ask anyone else since you spent the rest of the night going between the dance floor and bar, occasionally sitting down to rest for a couple songs before you were quickly pulled to your feet by one of the boys.
During one of those rest stops, you decided to check your sugar levels since you had been drinking beer since dinner ended, and it usually made your sugar level spike up. And, just as you thought, that number meant you were definitely high.
Getting an insulin shot in this dress required you to take some... measures. Sure, going to the toilet and locking yourself in a stall would be the best option, but this was faster. You scooted as close to the table as you could, angling your chair to hide from most of the salon. But that still left a side that needed to be covered.
"Hey, Yoongi!" You gestured at the only other person sitting on the table, a couple of chairs away from you. "Can you come and sit here, I need some cover."
"Why?" He enquired, but still got up and did as you ask.
"I need to give myself a shot on the stomach, and I don't want to flash anyone when I lift my dress up."
His ears turned pink, but he still held your gaze, lifting an eyebrow. "You usually don't have any problem pulling your dress up in class for a shot."
Your focus was on getting the shot ready while you answered him. "Well, yes, that's because I'm usually wearing tights, or biker shorts. Not tonight, though."
He turned his face away from you so fast when you reached for the hem of your dress, that you were surprised he didn't get whiplash.
Laughing, you applied the shot and smoothed the dress down when you were done. "You're good, I'm already covered up."
He didn't turn back though, and you could see the back of his neck was red, and his hands were closed in fists on his lap. Your chest tightened, it hadn't been your intention to make him this uncomfortable, so you told him, reaching out to him. "I'm sorry Yoongi, I didn't think it would disturb you this much." When you placed your hand on his shoulder, he flinched, so you removed it as if he burnt you. "Don't worry, I was going to tell you to close your eyes, I wasn't going to flash you without your consent."
You didn't wait for his answer, turning and fleeing the scene to go outside to catch a breath, and get your emotions in order. You didn't know why, but his aversion almost made you cry. Sure, you could understand not everyone was attracted to you, but, well... You had a massive crush on him, after all. You would be lying if you hadn't hoped that he might, some day, find you attractive. On the other hand, some people were really uncomfortable with nudity, and perhaps Yoongi was one of those?
You swiped a lone tear before it ruined your makeup, and took a deep breath to calm down. There was nothing you could do about it if he didn't like you, and that didn't diminish your worth as a person. Or your beauty. You had learnt this the hard way, and were comfortable enough now in your own skin to know that beauty is, indeed, in the eye of the beholder.

Jungkook found you outside, sitting on a couch in the outdoor gallery, and called out your name. "There you are! We were wondering where you've run to." He sat next to you, his hair mussed from the dance. The top three buttons of his shirt were open, the tie long gone, revealing some of the smooth skin on his chest.
"Kookie, we are showing the same amount of cleavage now!" You laughed, and he smiled fondly at you. "Thank the gods I have someone else on my level now. Hobi completely outdid me, I was feeling so lonely caught in the middle of the cleavage contest."
"Oh, so it's a competition now?" Jimin jumped into the conversation, coming out of the door next to your couch. He perched on the arm of the sofa, putting his feet on the seat cushions next to you, and undid the bow on his shirt. At the sound of you cheering and Kookie wolf-whistling, he started undoing his buttons while shimming in place, putting on a show. He only undid half his buttons, so that all three of you had matching deep-v necklines.
Jungkook then pulled out his phone to take some selfies, so that Jimin ended up on the couch next to you, all three of you smooshed together since it was a two-seater.
When Yoongi walked out of the venue your laughter died down, but you struggled to maintain a cheery disposition. After all, it wasn't his fault he didn't like you, and you were set on trying to move past your crush now.
"Hyung!" Jungkook called. "We are showing cleavage. Wanna join us?"
Yoongi only scowled, and when the maknae whined, you swatted at him. "Not everyone is comfortable around showing skin, Kook! You shouldn't pressure people like that."
He turned to you with his doe eyes, pouting, and you almost relented.
Almost.
"Brat," you huffed, no real heat behind your words. "I should spank you for that."
He froze and so did you when you realized what you've said. And when Jimin broke into wild cackling, you blanched. "Oh my gods Jungkook, I'm so, so sorry! That was so inappropriate of me!"
You tried to get up, afraid that being so close to you after such blatant impudence might make him uncomfortable, but he grabbed hold of your arm to stop you, leaning into your space with a smirk you've never witnessed on his face before. "Oh, no, nuna. Are you sure you want to try that?"
You didn't know if he meant the spanking, or the running away, but you were saved from floundering by Yoongi literally pulling you out of the couch by your hands.
You were, once more, surprised by the strength the man possessed. He didn't even huff, and without almost any help from you, he had managed to put you on your feet.
"Yoongi...?" You said, bewildered, experiencing whiplash from the last things that happened, but he just turned from the couch and marched back inside. Since he hadn't let go of one of your hands, you had no option but to stumble after him if you didn't want to have your arm detached from your body.
Passing some mirrors on the way to the dance floor revealed to you that he was scowling. But before you had the chance to ask him what was happening, he pulled you into the dance floor, where couples were swaying to the slow music.
"Wanna dance?" He asked gruffly, and you could only nod. "Use your words, jagi," he rumbled, pulling you closer by the hand he had never let go.
"Yes, I want to dance with you," you breathed. He then took hold of your free hand, and placed both your hands around his neck. His hands then slid down slowly over your raised arms, down the sides of your torso, and settled on the dip of your waist, pulling you even closer. Your eyes fluttered and you couldn't repress the shiver at his touch.
You were so close, too. Almost, almost, close enough that your bodies touched. Just a breath away.
He swayed you to the rhythm at first, but after a while and when the music swelled, his left hand slid up your torso and along your arm, grabbing your hand to extend both your arms together. He then started leading you along the borders of the dancefloor, every now and then turning you in his arms, and a couple of times dipping you. You couldn't help but relax in his arms and laugh, his expression warm, and his eyes never leaving your face. When the slow dance section of the night ended, the beat picked up and people whooped.
You released Yoongi's neck and lowered your joined hands, but didn't let go of his hand. And neither did he.
His gaze was burning, and your breath caught. When his tongue flickered to wet his lower lip, your eyes followed the movement and when you looked back into his eyes, there was so much emotion behind them, it took all of your willpower to not lean up into his space and kiss him.
"Yoon-" you were interrupted by someone bumping into you by accident. They didn't push you too hard, but when they turned to apologize profusely to you, you felt like the spell between Yoongi and you had been broken. You reassured the drunken dancer, and by the time you turned back, Yoongi was nowhere to be found.
What the fuck.
The sting of his disappearance almost bent you in half with sorrow, but you managed to hold it in.
Alright, so he was definitely aware of this... thing between you, but it seemed like he was, what? Scared of it?
Fuck him.
Anger quickly replaced your pain, and you stalked to the open bar. The night was almost over by now, and even though leaving on your own was a tempting offer, you didn't want the thought of Yoongi tainting your night with your friends.
After knocking back two shots of tequila, you ran to the dance floor where Hobi was dancing. You slammed into his back, wrapping your arms around him from behind and buried your face on the strong muscles of his back. Yes, it was damp from sweat, but he smelt so comforting and so Hobi-like, that you stayed like that for a moment, swaying with the music. He turned in your arms when he realized you weren't going to make any other move, and hugged you fiercely. "What's wrong, sunshine?" He asked in your ear, still swaying you both to the music, albeit slower than the rhythm probably called for.
"You are the sunshine in this relationship, Hobi." When he raised his eyebrow you sighed. "Nothing's wrong, I just love you so much. I'm gonna miss running into you at uni."
He laughed at this, throwing his head back. "But we haven't shared a class in years!"
"Still! I'll know that you're not in the same building. You light up every place you walk into, it'll not be the same."
"Hush! Tonight's not the night to get sad. Tonight's a celebration! You should be happy for me," he added with a pout when you didn't show any signs of cheering up.
"I am!" You said, schooling your face into a cheerful expression, that made Hobi laugh again.
He was about to add something else when the song changed into one of your favourites, so you both cheered and began jumping with the beat. Hobi's movements were noticeably more graceful than yours, but that didn't stop you from dancing the night away with him.

By the time the sky started to clear outside the enormous glass windows of the venue, you were exhausted. You had retired from the dance floor a couple of songs ago, your feet aching wonderfully, and were currently sitting shoe-less at your dinner table with your legs up on another chair. The party didn't show any signs of stopping, but you knew it must've been nearing its end.
As focused as you were on the dance floor, you didn't notice the man approach you until he bent to speak right against your ear.
"Jagi," he said simply, and your skin broke in goosebumps.
"Yoongi," you breathed, keeping your eyes on the dance floor. You noticed that all the other boys were currently dancing in a big group, not paying attention to either of you at the table. Of course he'd approach you when no-one else was watching.
"Come with me," he said simply, grabbing your hand and pulling softly. As if you were going to follow his command without a second thought.
"I'm too tired, my feet hurt," you refused, shaking your head.
"I can carry you," he offered. And he sounded earnest.
You studied him for a moment, weighing your options. You were pretty sure you knew how this was going to unfold if you went with him, and it will mean certain heartache for you. But... your heart was already aching. What's another drop in the ocean?
You pulled your hand away from his and grabbed your shoes from the floor, getting up with some difficulty.
"Alright Giacomo, lead the way."
He didn't comment on the strange nickname, and you didn't explain. You followed him as he walked past doors that you were almost positive led to the backstage areas. Your suspicions were confirmed when he nodded to a server and discretely handed him something when you both passed him.
You climbed a set of stairs until you were on the roof of the venue. It was clearly a place used to stock bottles and leave broken or banged up furniture, but there was a small table set up with a bottle of champagne and two flutes, and a tablecloth over what looked like a couch very similar to the one you've seated on the outside gallery earlier in the night. Yoongi led you to said couch, sitting down and pulling you so that you sat next to him. Without releasing your hand, he grabbed the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and poured you both glasses.
You were flustered from the attention and from his hand in yours, but soon your bubble burst. As you saw it, he took you away from the group because he didn't want anyone else to see you two together. You shook your head, trying to dislodge the thought. You already knew that, and you had still decided to follow him.
When you met his gaze it was so warm, so earnest, that it felt like your chest constricted.
"You've been driving me insane all night, jagi."
You smiled at him, leaning into his space. If you were going to do this, you might as well enjoy it, right?
"Really? Why?"
His eyes roamed down, over your lips, your chest, your legs pressing against him. And when he looked up, his gaze caught on your lips, focusing on the way you bit your lower lip. Instead of answering, he leant into your space, stopping a breath away from your lips. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered, his tone so low you barely heard it.
You started to nod, but promptly breathed out a 'yes,' remembering how he had wanted to use your words before.
"Good girl," he whispered, before claiming your lips with his.
The moment your lips collided, you felt as if fireworks exploded all around you. His mouth was so warm, as were his hands on your neck and waist, pulling you closer. He was strong, no doubt, and determined, and the way he kissed you made your whole body turn to jelly. You were glad you were sitting down, so you didn't have to spare any thought on trying to not fall down, and could concentrate on the way his chest and shoulder felt under your hands, how where your legs were touching you were burning up.
Soon things turned heated, Yoongi's hands were kneading your flesh, and you couldn't stand the distance between you. So you turned and lifted your body over his legs, straddling him, and sitting on his knees. "Is this alright?" you asked, worried about resting too much of your weight on him. His smirk then was glorious, pushing you closer to him by the hip, and when he pulled on your neck to resume the kiss, you stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Use your words, honey."
"Yes, this is alright," he growled, pushing up towards you, and crashing your lips together once again.

By the time you noticed the light had changed, and Yoongi's face was bathed in a warm, yellow light, you were both a mess. At least, you guessed that you weren't looking much better than him. His hair tie was nowhere to be found, his hair deliciously mussed. You must've pulled so much on his bun, and then on his loose hair, that the simple tie was lost forever. His button down was half undone and completely rumpled from all the pulling and crumpling you've done, his vest long gone. Dark marks bloomed on his jaw and neck from where you've sucked while he rocked into you, his hand under your dress and kneading the supple flesh of your ass.
He looked behind you for a moment, looking strangely... disappointed? But then his gaze found yours, still heated. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked, his tone low.
"Sure," you said, starting the painful process of getting up from him. Staying so long in that kneeling position was hell on your legs, and pins and needles soon traveled over your muscles as you stood up trying to smooth your dress down.
He waited patiently hugging you to his side until you let him know you were able to walk again, supporting you while the feeling returned to normal in your legs and feet. And while you walked down the stairs he held your hand, giving you support when you wobbled.
When you reached downstairs the dance floor was empty and you guessed the boys were outside, judging by how their ties and jackets were still on the table. You wanted to go say bye, but you also didn't want to see Yoongi act differently around you when the others saw you. So you swallowed the hurt down and followed his lead towards the car, once he had gathered your bag and jacket and his own things.
During the drive back, Yoongi's right hand kept coming back to yours, his thumb caressing your knuckles. Once you were entering the city, you cleared your throat. "So... Your place? Or, if not, you can also drop me back at mine, it's late- well, early now, and-"
"Jagi," he whispered over your knuckles, having lifted your hand to his lips. "Let's go to mine."
"Sure," you breathed, watching his profile as he smiled and placed a kiss on the back of your hand.
So, you decided to do the thing you've always screamed against when main leads did in romance novels. You decided to have sex with your crush, even if he didn't feel the same about you. Because after all, at least this could be like a parting gift to yourself, right? A night with him, to keep in your memory and cherish, even after it all comes crashing down in flames.
Everything would turn out to be alright in the long run, wouldn't it?

The next day, after the wonderful night (morning, technically) you spent with Yoongi, you waited until he fell asleep to quietly slip from under his arm. You dressed in silence, thanking the gods that he was such a deep sleeper, and took a cab back home. Sure, you could use the excuse you needed to leave to remove your contact lenses before going to sleep, but the reality was that you were scared shitless of the morning after. Well, afternoon after, whatever.
What if he kicked you out, what if he acted like nothing happened in front of the others, what if he disappeared on you while you fell asleep, what if-
Yeah, no thank you. Better to avoid all that.
So you spent the next weeks avoiding him, which was easier to do now since you didn't share classes anymore. He wrote to you the night after the party, letting you know he had just woken up, and asking if you wanted to have dinner with him since the boys weren't home. It stung more than you cared to admit, and you thanked him for the invitation but told him you still needed to recuperate from the party.
'Get some rest then, jagiya. Let me know if you need anything,' he had texted back.
So that's how you spelt that word. Still, by now you were too afraid to google what it meant. You were sure it was something devastating, and your heart was steeped in enough despair, thank you very much.
Even though you didn't send him anything else, he wrote back three days later, asking how you were feeling, and if you wanted to go to the park and have a picnic.
Your answere was polite, almost impersonal: 'Sorry Yoongi, can we take a rain check? I'm catching up with cleaning today.'
'Sure jagi, let me know when you're free,' he had answered.
And that was it.
Of course, you weren't writing to him either, but he also stopped writing in the group chat altogether, the one you shared with the boys.

That first weekend after the party you had declined their invitation to a pizza and movie marathon night (and LoTR, too!), stating previous compromises. But after you declined their invitations the next two times, Hobi slid into your DMs to yell at you.

Hobi: 'Allright, spill it! What's happening with you?! You never have these many previous compromises.'
You: 'Ouch Hobi. Brutal, much? Are you saying you guys are my only friends??'
Hobi: 'That's not what I meant, and you know it. Stop trying to change the subject.'
You: 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

Of course, he wasn't having any of it.

Hobi: 'Let's meet for coffee.'
You: 'Sorry Hobi, my head is killing me. Can't we meet some other day?"
Hobi: 'You know what? Fine. I'm gonna go to your apartment door and yell at you until you come down. You'll know then what a headache really is.'
You: 'Jeez, fine! Let's meet in an hour, I need to take a shower.'
Hobi: 'I'll pick you up in 30.'
You: 'Bully.'
Hobi: 'Your bully.'

True to his word, Hobi was knocking at your door 30 minutes later, on the dot. He barely waited for you to grab your things, and he was whisking you out of your cramped apartment (your roommates were there with friends). He kept your arms linked all the way to your favourite coffee shop, catching you up with what had happened with the others after the party. You were glad for his sunny disposition, and his ability to fill in the silence without demanding much of you.
Of course, you should've known better.
Under the shiny smiles laid the sharpest tongue and the strongest character you've ever met. Still to this day, remembering how he tore down a classmate that had been commenting on your physique brough you shivers. You were glad for his involvement, but that day you realized you never ever wanted to see Hobi angry again. The man was scary.
Once you were seated in an empty booth with your drinks and snacks in front of you, his smile fell and you were confronted with his intense gaze.
He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. You slumped on your chair, throwing your head back. You didn't want to face him when you told him the hard truth, and the ceiling here was quite nice, now that you were paying attention to it.
Alright, better rip the band-aid off.
"I slept with Yoongi."
When he didn't say anything after a few seconds, you continued, still averting his gaze.
"I've had a crush on him for a while now, and... well, during the party, he made a move. And it was amazing." Tears were falling over your temples and into your ears, so you removed your glasses and sat back up, scrubbing your face. Your face still in your hands and hiding from your best friend, you explained, full on crying now. "Yeah, amazing. Except for the part he was embarrassed of being seen with me. He made sure we were out of sight when he kissed me. And then, afterwards, only invited me to do things when you guys weren't around."
Hobi's arms crushed you into his chest, and you flinched at first (he had been sitting across the table from you, and you didn't notice he had moved). But you immediately buried your face on his chest, hugging him back as tightly as he was holding you.
You were sobbing by now, it hurt so much. No amount of good (great) sex was worth this much pain. But at the party you had been too blind with lust to see it.
When you managed to regain your composure a bit and breathing came easier, Hobi spoke softly, and oh so lovingly. "What if he only wanted you to himself, and that's why he kept pulling you away from us." You shook your head on his chest, but he pressed on. "We are a rowdy bunch. And Yoongi is usually the quietest of us. Perhaps he wanted to make sure you were listening to him."
You sat up and looked at Hobi, uncertain, and his gaze was so soft on you. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, swiping at your tears with his thumbs; he was looking at you with so much warmth, that you almost started crying again. Still, you stood your ground.
"I don't know Hobi, Yoongi hasn't shown me anything like that... I don't think he likes me like that. Sure, he's attracted to me, but that's about it."
Hoseok's eyes suddenly flitted behind you, and he got up from the booth in a flash.
"Wait here, I'll be back in just a moment," he said in lieu of an explanation.
He left so fast that you didn't have a chance to process what was happening. When you turned to look outside, and after putting your glasses back on, you only saw the sidewalk outside the coffee shop through the window, with the occasional passerby going on their way. There were no signs of Hoseok.
"What the fuck, man," you muttered, astounded at the reaction of your best friend.
When after five minutes he didn't return, you got up from the booth and sent him a quick text: "I'll be heading home first, talk to you later." You then turned your phone off, too pissed at the world to care if anyone tried to reach you now.

***

Yoongi had been driving around town, trying to clear his head. The apartment he shared with Jin and Hobi now only reminded him of you. Of the way you've felt in his arms, the way your skin tasted, how you sounded.
Fuck.
He didn't need his mind to go there now.
It seems his unconsciousness wanted to take him to you though, for when he realized where he was driving, he found himself in the vicinity of your apartment building.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
He had promised himself he'd give you space, and he wasn't going to become a stalker. Coming to your place unannounced was beyond creepy behaviour, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything.
Even if he missed you like hell.
Yoongi parked the car and got out. He needed to walk, to get some fresh air, to get away from his own mind.
Still, his thoughts were inundated in you, and he couldn't help but reminiscence on how you two met.
He had first noticed you when you walked into the VIP room of the club that first time, Hoseok pulling you in, and you had winked at the bouncer when he looked at you with blatant disrespect, provoking the oaf even further. He could respect that kind of confidence. Also, it was sexy as hell.
He started seeing you in most of the parties they attended, always so unapologetically you. You laughed with your whole body, flirted openly, and never let anyone get you down. The boys had to cut out some people from their group because they started talking offensively behind your back. It was rare to find people who didn't badmouth others out of spite or jealousy, but in this case there was none of that veiled insults directed towards you. It seemed people didn't have any qualms being straight-up abusive against you because you weren't the ""normal"" size.
Lots of scare quotes.
So they had to go.
Sure, in Korea the beauty standards were strict and closed up, but he and his brother had all learnt to break out of those restrictions a long time ago.
Anyways, somehow you became an integral part of the group, the close-knit of 7 turning into a wonderful number 8. Even if you didn't realize how they all felt about you.
It saddened him that you didn't talk with him as freely as you did with the others, or shared the easy touches so typical of you. You always parted ways with Jimin when your three shared a class, but Yoongi didn't want to force his company on you if you'd rather keep your distance.

That was, until that day that you walked into revision looking out of sorts. You hadn't glanced at him like you usually did when you entered the classroom, and you looked exhausted. By the end of the lecture you looked worse, if it was even possible. The coffee you bought during the break didn't seem to do its work. He approached you without thinking, intent on helping you pack up and walking you to the cafeteria. But when you looked up at him, ticked off that he was teasing you about reusable cups, your face went slack and you mumbled 'so gorgeous', and then something in Spanish.
He started, but you didn't seem to realize you've said that outloud. It seemed you were keeping a running commentary of your thoughts under your breath, unaware that he was hearing it. You also said something about wearing his t-shirt at the same time as him, and kept switching between English and Spanish. He didn't know how to tell you he could perfectly hear all these remarks on him, too flustered with the attention he was receiving from you. Fortunately, the way to the cafeteria was noisy and full of people, and if you said anything else he didn't hear you.
He had tried to get you to sit next to him during lunch, but his plan backfired when you retrieved your backpack from him, and shuffled away to buy food. He wanted to smack himself, he had forgotten to ask you if you had packed any lunch. And by the time you came back to the table, led by Taehyung's hand on your back, Yoongi was already surrounded by his friends.
He kept an eye on you as he ate from Jin and Jimin's fries, and drank sips from everyone else's drinks. Well, he hadn't brought lunch either, but that was because he didn't have any classes in the afternoon. He wasn't planning on staying, but had decided on a whim, worried about you. The exam season seemed to be getting to you, and he wanted to make sure that you were alright.
And when you panicked and broke down crying because you've forgotten your insulin shot, he wanted to jump over the table and hold you tight. But Hoseok and Taehyung were already there for you, doing what Yoongi desperately hoped to be able to do for you. You explained how the fluctuation from high to low to high sugar levels drained you, and everything clicked in place in Yoongi's mind: your constant commentary under your breath, and the fact that you were unaware of it.
Jin beat him to the punch to tell you to go home and get some sleep, but before anyone else had a chance he offered to drive you back.
When he had become so enthralled by you, Yoongi didn't know. He only realized now that he wanted to get closer to you, and he didn't know how.
But then you went and called him 'Yoongi-ssi'. Which, yes, was technically correct. But it still made him mad that you decided to use the honorific that people used for someone who they’re unfamiliar with. Even if it meant you thought you and him were at a relatively equal standing.
In the car, you've called him 'gorgeous' again, once more completely unaware that he had heard you. And then promptly fell asleep, your body completely relaxed and snoring softly. He couldn't help smiling fondly then, seeing how you've trusted him enough to fall asleep while he drove you. Once he parked in front of your apartment building, he called out to you a couple of times, but you didn't even stir. It wasn't until he was shaking your shoulder, a jolt of electricity running through him at the contact, that you finally reacted.
And then you went and called him Yoongi-ssi again, and he swore under his breath. Against his better judgement, he leant into your space, making you so flustered he preened, and asked you to call him Jagiya: honey, darling.
Sure, it was a bold (and stupid) move on his part, asking you to call him something you didn't understand its meaning. Stupid or not, he still wanted you to call him something fonder than his name with a stupid honorific. He wanted you to stop putting distance between the two of you.
But when you said that you 'thought he didn't like you,' and that you'd 'hoped he'd eventually warm up to you', he was reminded you were not one of his brothers. Yoongi had trouble expressing himself most of the time, and since the others had grown up with him, he didn't have to make any real effort around them. They always knew how he felt, and what he meant. But he had to remember that you weren't them, that you've only known him for half a year. And that he had only spoken to you a handful of times in that period.

After he dropped you off that day (and you called him 'cute' under your breath), he wrote to you to invite you to study with him (realizing with a start he never once wrote to you in private before, only interacting in the group chat). He then drove you home after your late night study sessions, and made an effort to talk more to you.
If you noticed this change in him, you didn't say anything.
By the time the party drew nearer, he practically had to wrestle Jungkook to make sure that only he got to drive you to the party, and not the maknae. You weren't wearing glasses when he  went to pick you up, and your eyes shone so beautifully, just like the rest of you. And that dress. That might be the death of him.
You were always sexy, but that night your confidence and beauty shone tenfold.
He tried flirting with you, he did, but it seemed you weren't getting the memo. So he outright told you that he liked you, and that was when you slapped your chest with the seatbelt by accident.
And when you stumbled into his chest when you exited his car, he held you for a moment like the creep he evidently was, relishing in your warmth and softness under his fingers.

He spent the whole party thinking of ways to get you on your own, but he also didn't want you to miss any of the party.
The tipping point for him was when he found you on a couch outside, squished between two very giggly, chest-bared Jimin and Jungkook. He had wandered out looking for you, meaning to ask you if you wanted to try and sneak out to see if you two could climb to the rooftop of this place, if there was one, and wait for the sunset together.
His blood went from warm because you defended him from Jungkook's insistence on showing skin, to frozen the moment you threatened to spank the maknae. And the brat, as you so rightly called him, had had the audacity to flirt with you.
Nope, he was still trying to make his move, even if you didn't realize his intentions yet. He wasn't going to be outshined by Kookie's charms and bunny smiles and big doe eyes. The kid was a menace.
He had to yank you out of that couch then and lead you to the dance floor, wanting to be close to you even if it was in a room full of people.

He had slipped out of the dance floor when you were distracted, intending on scouting the way to the roof and quickly coming back to you to whisk you there. But it had taken too long. There was a rooftop, which was a win, but the only way up was through backstage areas. It involved a lot of sweet-talking and bribing a couple of waiters, and they helped him set up a threadbare couch (covered with a tablecloth) and a table with champagne.
Yoongi had circled the dancefloor a couple of times before realizing you weren't there, looked for you outside, but finally found you sitting on their table, your feet propped up in a chair.
It took very little convincing to have you go to the rooftop with him. And when he finally kissed you, his whole world shifted. Nothing but you mattered anymore, and if you decided that he could be enough for you, if you decided to keep him, he promised himself he'd never let you down.
Triumph surged through his body when you called him 'honey', so sultry and confident, straddling his legs like he belonged to you. So you had known all along what he had been calling you. He felt like he was elated.

But then, he'd woken up to an empty bed, the sheets cold, and he outright panicked. He wrote to you before the sleep-fog had completely cleared from his brain, inviting you to dinner. He could hear his brothers milling around in the apartment, but he was set on kicking everyone out to get some time with you alone.
Again.
Last night hadn't been nearly enough.
You had alleged tiredness in your response, and he believed you then. But when he wrote to invite you to a picnic after 3 days of radio silence and you still turned him down, he started to think the problem was him.

He decided to not bother you anymore, and wait for you to come to any of the get-togethers you usually participated in, to see how you behaved around him.
But you still didn't show up, declining every one of their invitations.
Hoseok had been giving him the stinky eye, and Yoongi didn't know what to do. You had seemed to like him back, and every time he thought back to the night you spent together, he was sure you had had a good time. But then again, neither of you had said this was the beginning of something. Perhaps it was a one time thing for you, and you didn't know how to turn him down gently so you had been avoiding him?
Yoongi wanted to rip his hair out. He didn't know what he did wrong, and how to fix it. And you clearly didn't want to see him: it was the first time you had spent this long without seeing any of them, since you had started hanging out with his group.

He was brought back to the present when he saw you inside a coffee shop, your back to the window. He could recognize you anywhere, even if he couldn't see your face right that moment. You were with Hobi, who had your face in his hands, tenderly stroking your cheeks.
He was about to turn and flee, not having any idea how he got here (and where he was), but then Hoseok's eyes locked on him for a moment. Yoongi turned and flee the scene then, but soon he heard Hobi calling for him, his feet light on the pavement.
"Don't you dare skip town," his brother growled. How he knew what Yoongi was thinking was proof of how well they knew each other. "Talk to her, you asshole."
"She doesn't want me," Yoongi grumbled, avoiding his eyes.
Hoseok scoffed then, and Yoongi's eyes flew back to his face. Hobi's arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyebrows were so high on his forehead, they were barely visible under his fringe. "And she's so sure you don't want her, that she was crying her heart out."
Yoongi's brain collapsed in on itself. How could that... "What? But we... she..." He couldn't string a phrase together, and Hobi deflated a bit at his distress.
"You know that sexual attraction ain't the same as liking someone. TALK TO HER."
Hoseok's face left no room for discussion, and Yoongi gave in.
"Fine..."
"Go, find her in the coffee shop, she must be waiting for me."
Yoongi nodded, determined, and strode back to you.
But when he got to the coffee shop, you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't waste any time and ran.
Yoongi wasn't going to lose you.
Not again.

***

You were fitting the key into the door of your apartment building when someone called your name. Well, no. Not 'someone'.
Yoongi.
You would recognize his timbre of voice anywhere, even breathy like he sounded now. Even if the distress in his voice wasn't something you've never heard before.
You braced yourself and turned on your heels. He was on the foot of the stairs looking up at you, and you were reminded of the day he came to pick you up for the party.
Except this time he was dressed in his usual black skinny jeans - black oversized shirt. His hair was loose and looked windswept. Your hands twitched on your sides from the impulse to card your fingers through his tresses and pull, wanting to hear again the sounds he made that night when you did just that.
Two at a time, he climbed the stairs and stood in front of you, just like he did the night he came to pick you up for the party, but this time he stepped right into your personal space bubble.
"Please, don't push me away. Talk with me," he pleaded, in a soft- almost broken voice.
It felt like your heart was squeezed in your chest, and your throat constricted. You could only nod at him in response and you opened the door, gesturing for him to come inside.

You both got into the elevator, silence stretching between you. But still, you couldn't speak. It felt like you were a balloon full of water, stretched to its limit, and any touch with anything remotely sharp would make you explode.
He followed you to the rooftop of your building, his eyes on your face.
The place was a walled up space, with a couple of sunburnt clothes lines for the tenants to hang their laundry if they wanted. The walls were too tall to be able to see anything but the expanse of darkening sky above you. You hadn't realized how late it was, you noticed belatedly.
Yoongi took a step closer to you and lightly touched your arm. It was just the tips of his fingers, something you could've brushed aside if you wanted to. But you didn't.
Emboldened by the fact you didn't pull away, he murmured, "jagiya..."
And just like that, the dam broke, and tears started streaming down your eyes against your better judgement. How dare he look at you with such tenderness, with so much warmth.
But still you said nothing. What could you state? Or ask? 'Why are you ashamed of me?' No, there was nothing you could really say.
Besides, he was the one who asked to talk to you. Let him do the talking.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Yoongi asked when you didn't give any signs you were going to say anything.
"It hurts," you answered, your voice hoarse and breaking in the middle. At his befuddled expression, you tried to explain. "You don't want others to see us together, and it hurts."
His face lost all expressions, his gaze blank. Again with that bored face... Except that perhaps, that wasn't what was happening. Perhaps he wasn't bored. Perhaps you still didn't know what that expression meant on his face.
"What gave you that idea?" He asked, voice clipped.
"You kept pulling away from me when there were others around, and you made sure no one saw us leaving together. And then you invited me to go to your place when the others weren't there!"
"That's not... I just wanted to be alone with you! But not because I'm embarrassed," you flinched, and he lowered his tone, noticing your reaction. "It's because I just wanted you for my own. Why would you think that of me?" He sounded hurt, and you couldn't take it anymore.
"It's because you barely talk to me, and I end up trying to fill in the blanks! I don't know what you're thinking about if you don't say it outright to me." You were angry now, and your tone kept climbing.
"But... I call you jagi all the time!" He responded, raising his voice to keep up with your volume.
"I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"
Your chest heaved, the outburst finally taking the fight out of you, and you deflated.
Yoongi's tone was cautious. "I thought... that time, at the rooftop. You called me honey," he said, confused, and you furrowed your brows. You felt like you were missing something, but you still didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Yes... So?" You couldn't keep the exasperation out of your tone, crossing your arms over your chest.
"It's... I thought you knew." Shaking his head, he explained. "Jagi (jagiya), means darling, or sweetie. Honey."
Your brain short-circuited, your arms loosening over your chest. He had been calling you that for quite some time now, and you haven't realized.
"Oh."
"Yes, oh," he said, his signature smirk making a comeback.
"Why did you take me to the rooftop to kiss me then?" Now that everything was out in the open, you needed to know.
"I wanted us to see the sunrise together."
Again, 'oh'. Except this time you didn't say it out loud.
"I've liked you for so long..." You said instead, "why didn't you say anything before?" His surprise was evident, and he thought for a moment.
"I only realized my feelings a short while ago. But likewise, why didn't you let me know?" he asked, leaning into your space.
"I told you, I thought you didn't like me," you pouted. "Why would I flirt with someone who barely tolerates me?"
His laugh lightened the mood. "We've been two idiots, right?"
He took a step closer to you then, and you did the same, intertwining your hand with his.
For a moment you just looked into each other's eyes. The wind ruffled his hair and you reached up with your free hand to card your fingers through it, smoothing it down. When his eyes closed and he leant into your touch, you stretched up on your toes and closed the distance between you.

This time, the kiss was sweeter than anything you've shared before. It was slow and soft, unhurried, like neither one of you wanted to rush this moment into anything else.
After all, you had all the time in the world to be together now.

Nothing was going to stand between you two, not even either one of your insecurities.