Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Remind me again, why did you decide to transfer schools? During your third year?” Hoseok asked, looking at me from the driver’s seat of his car. The loud ass music from his speakers made it genuinely hard to hear him, and I had to strain my ears to make sense of what he was saying. 

“I just–” I paused, weighing my options of how to respond. Telling the full truth would be a lot , and when he had asked the first time, I had responded with a simple, safe I needed a change of scenery. So I watered it down again, “My old university didn’t have what I wanted out of my education. My grades were good enough that transferring to a better university was fairly simple.” I will, however, need to figure out where I’m getting that extra tuition money from, moving from a public to a private university… 

My thoughts trailed off, the windows of Hoseok’s car rolled down and the sound of the wind made it hard to think about my finances. Hoseok hummed a response to my statement, probably knowing that deep down, my answer was bullshit and only part of the real reason. But he didn’t push me any further, and I appreciated that. 

Having been friends since childhood, we could read each other's slightest expressions, and instantly know what the other is thinking. We’ve gotten into many, incredibly stupid situations over the years, and it was good to be reuniting now that I would be attending the same university as him. We had kept loosely in touch, and I knew he was a communications major, and he had a group of friends he grew close with. 

Friends I would meet incredibly soon. 

“Thanks for picking me up from the airport,” I said, turning down his music so he could hear me over the wind and the bass coming from his speakers. Seriously, I don’t know how he doesn’t have permanent hearing loss by now. 

Considering he ignored me when I said this, I am convinced he does have hearing loss. Ironic for a communications major. I repeated myself, louder, and he finally acknowledged my existence. “Well, obviously I was going to pick you up, Y/N. You know, when you told me you would be transferring here, I just had this feeling you would fit right in. I hope it’s a step up from whatever you were used to.” He smiled, turning his music back up. Seriously? “I can’t wait for you to meet everyone!”

My stomach twisted. I wasn’t the best at meeting new people. Sometimes, whenever I talk to someone I’m not familiar with, I feel like I'm choosing the wrong dialogue option. I can be social when I want to, (or when I’ve had even a drop of alcohol, suddenly everyone is my friend), it just doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does for him.

Sunshine follows Hoseok wherever he goes, I swear, sometimes it feels like rooms genuinely do get brighter when he walks in. Compared to him, I feel about as sparkly as sandpaper. 

I was pulled out of my self depreciation when the car slowed to a stop. We had pulled into a parking garage, and I hadn’t even noticed. 

“We’re here!” Hoseok exclaimed, taking the key out of the ignition. We got out of the car, fetching my luggage from the trunk. My entire adulthood has been reduced to two suitcases, containing everything I have to show for my college experience. Clothes, binders, folders, a laptop, and some of my dorm essentials. Well, atleast your new roommate can’t possibly be worse than the last one, I thought, easing some of my growing worry. 

We headed outside the garage and entered a hectic part of the city. The campus was right in the middle of town, so we had to walk a bit before we got to where I would be staying before the semester started in a few days. The building itself was very nice, the building was about twice as tall as the dormitory hall of my previous school. We headed to the front desk. 

“Name?”

“L/N, Y/N.” I said, watching the receptionist enter my name into her computer. If the rest of the building was as pristine and ornate as the lobby, I had high expectations for the quality of my dorm room. 

“Year and major?”

“Third year, biochemistry major.”

She clacked on her keyboard once more. “Okay, your roommates are already checked in, here’s your room key, you’ve been signed in.” She slid a keycard across the counter, and I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket. 

“Thank you.” Wait, roommates? I have more than one?  

My room was on the third floor of the dorm, and we opted to take the elevator up. Outside my door, Hoseok patted me on the back, and headed back the way we came. Before he left, he gave me a quick, “Have fun getting acquainted here, I’ll be back in an hour to grab you and show you around campus.”

When he was gone, there was nothing but an empty hallway and a door in front of me and either the future banes of my existence, or my new best friends. I was never a big gambler, and I was about to take a huge one.

I opened the door and was greeted with the soft smell of jasmine and warm sunlight. My room had a tall window spanning floor to ceiling, three loft beds, and was decorated with plants, posters, and personal touches. My bed was devoid of decoration, color, or personality. Not yet, atleast , I thought. 

My roommates were sitting together on one of the beds, chatting while watching a video on one of their phones. When they heard me enter, they squealed in excitement, launching themselves off the loft bed. 

“Oh my god! You’re here!” The girl who reached me first said, smiling brightly. “I’m Nayeon!” 

The other girl was just as excited as the first. “I’m Jennie! We’ve been so excited to meet you!” 

Externally, I smiled back at them, their excitement contagious. “My name’s Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you guys, I love what you’ve done to the room,” I looked around, still taking in all the pretty decorations. “I’m excited to be here.” Internally, I wept with relief. These new people had actually accepted me, before even meeting me. It was all I had yearned for my past 2 years. 

Jennie showed me where I could put all of my belongings, and Nayeon helped me put up some of the decorations I had brought with me. It was a euphoric feeling, having roommates who wanted me there instead of doing everything they could to scrub any trace of me out of the room. 

We chatted, exchanged phone numbers, and learned if we would share any classes. We all had different majors, but we had a lot of the same free time periods, and I knew these girls would become great friends. 

Before I knew it, an hour had passed. When there was a knock at the door, I hesitated slightly to answer it, even though I knew who it was. I didn’t want to leave my new friends so soon, but I felt like I should carry this good energy with me to meet some more people. 

I opened the door. Jennie and Nayeon made noises of recognition behind me. 

“Hoseok, is that you?” Nayeon asked, excited. 

“You guys know each other?” I asked, looking at both of them. 

“Of course, I know a lot of people,” Hoseok answered, smiling at my roommates. “Have a good break?”

“Yes, I’m glad to be back, though. I’ve been really needing another one of Seokjin’s wine recommendations.” Nayeon sighed, as if thinking wistfully of a nice glass of wine. From the conversation we were having prior, I’m pretty sure Nayeon could guess the exact coordinates a wine was aged just from one sip. If there’s someone out there that knows more than her, I’m honestly impressed. 

“He’ll be happy to provide some. Come on, Y/N. Time for the tour!” He motioned for me to follow, and I stepped out of the room, waving goodbye to my roommates. 

“Who is Seokin?” I asked from behind Hoseok.

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” he replied, squinting down the hallway at the figure encumbered by the boxes he was carrying. “Actually, I think I see him right now. C’mon, let’s go!” 

Chapter Text

The thunderous crashing of cardboard falling to the ground like an avalanche echoed through the hallway as me and Hoseok approached the unfortunate victim. 

“Do you need help with that?” Hoseok asked, picking up one of the boxes that was now strewn across the floor. The other man, who must be Seokjin, looked up from where he was crouched, indignation already on his face. He opened his mouth, presumably to turn down the offer. But, he recognized Hoseok, and his features brightened. 

“Hobi! I thought you were someone else. Yes, I need help.” He called him Hobi? I used to call him that when we were children. I thought with mirth, a small smile crossing my face. 

Seokjin finally saw me standing behind Hoseok. “Who are you?” He did not ask this question with hostility, instead, it sounded curious– like he was already making guesses in his mind before I confirmed anything. 

“I’m Y/N, I’m Hoseok’s friend from when we were kids. I just transferred here.” I explained, also bending down to pick up a box. It was heavier than I thought it would be, and I almost dropped it on my toes. What a great first impression that would have been. 

“Oh, Y/N! Hoseok’s mentioned you before,” recognition sparkled in Seokjin’s eyes, and he smiled. “Nice to finally meet you.” His smile was warm, confident. He had an air about him that was aloof and he seemed easy to talk to. 

“Are you carrying elephants in these boxes? Why are they so heavy?” Hoseok wheezed, carrying two boxes and damn near needing to sit down from the effort.

“I’m helping my roommate carry his pots and pans up to our room. If you can’t carry them, just pile them onto my box, no problem,” Seokjin bit out, voice strained from the weight of the giant box he was carrying. 

“What’s in that one?” I asked Seokjin, wondering what kind of pot would take up almost an entire hallway’s width. 

“A sofa.”

You know what? I don’t want to know. It’s his problem, not mine. I mused, once again entertained by this man. I liked him already; he reminds me a lot of Hoseok. Seokjin was handsome, broad shouldered, and witty, while Hoseok was also handsome, but had more energy in his step that I don't see in many other people. 

We finally got the boxes of bowling balls (pots and pans) in Seokjin’s dorm. He offered us some refreshments as a thank you for helping him carry his hallway disaster the rest of the way. Another crashing sound startled all of us, and entered Seokjin’s roommate carrying (presumably) the rest of his belongings. 

“Namjoon!” Seokjin and Hobi cried in tandem, greeting the new man. 

“Hey, guys!” Namjoon said, almost dropping his box. He set it down with a loud thud , essentially shaking the entire room in the process. I hoped their downstairs neighbors were the forgiving type. 

“Joon, this is Y/N, she’s a childhood friend of mine and she just transferred here,” Hoseok explained, giving me an encouraging pat on the back. 

“Hello,” I greeted, meeting someone for the fourth time. I think I’m starting to get the hang of introductions. “Are you a culinary major?” I motioned to the boxes (allegedly) full of pots and pans. 

“Yeah, I am. What are you?” Namjoon asked. 

“Biochemistry, with a concentration in radiobiology.”

“Woah, sounds interesting. Is it difficult?”

I considered his question. “Yes and no,” I furrowed my brow. “The subject itself is complicated and there’s a lot to learn. But I’ve always enjoyed science, and getting to work in a real lab was some of the most stimulating and exciting things I’ve ever done.” 

Throughout my life, I’ve always been good at science, and I thought wistfully of my summer internship. I got to work in a laboratory experimenting with different radioactive materials. It was as dangerous as it was thrilling, and I loved it. I felt like I was doing something. 

Namjoon considered my answer, and nodded. That reply was expected. 

“Well, me and Y/N are off on a tour of campus,” Hoseok announced, heading towards the door. “Good luck with the rest of your move-in.” He waved.

“Cya later, Y/N,” Seokjin waved. “We’ll see you around.” 

I waved goodbye. So many new people today, I thought as I headed for the door with Hobi. At least I like these people. A dark cloud cast over my thoughts as memories from my previous college started to surface, and a particular memory shone through the clouds. 

I was sobbing in a stairwell outside my dorm. I had gone back after being in class all day and all of my belongings were scattered or torn up on the floor. 

“CHEATER” and “SLUT” were written on the walls by my bed. Two words I heard repeated all too often. Too tired to deal with the mess, I stumbled out of the room in a daze, not meeting anyone’s eyes as I shuffled down the stairs.

It boiled down to one detail: I was not accepted by those around me. My roommates had disliked me from the very beginning, only amplified when I secured a summer internship that we had all competed for. I had earned it through hard work and hours of sleepless studying, but jealousy is a poison to human connection. They didn’t recognize my hard work, instead believing in the sexist idea that I slept with my professors to get better grades and to secure the internship. Nothing I said would dissuade them.

I had no one else. I didn’t have friends to stand up for me, and every time I stood up for myself, the harassment would get worse. 

My requests to move rooms had gone unanswered, I checked my inbox, physical mail, and made multiple phone calls, but my problems were inconsequential to a large university. I was a blip on the radar. 

And from where I sat in that dark stairwell, I had never felt smaller. 

Someone was gently shaking me. 

“Y/N.” Concern shone in Hoseok’s eyes. “Are you alright?”

I blinked away the memory. Echoes of it still reverberated in my subconscious, I could feel the heaviness of it in my bones. But I took a deep breath. I’m in a new school with new roommates and a new opportunity. 

“Yeah, sorry. Spaced out for a second.” I gave a small, reassuring smile. I knew Hoseok could tell I was full of shit, but he didn’t say anything. Just nodded, and we continued down the hallway. 

“Well, there’s the dining hall closest to your dorm building,” Hoseok finished, well into the tour. We had hit up his dorm building, each area where my classes would be, and common areas like the library, food court, and study areas. It was a beautiful campus, and I felt my excitement increasing as I took in all of the buildings.

“There are student living areas down this road,” he pointed to a row of houses that lined the road on the other side of the block. “There’s a lot of house parties in that area. The best ones require a personal invitation from the homeowner.” 

“Sounds exciting,” I said sarcastically. I hadn’t exactly had friends to go to parties with. Not until today, a hopeful voice in my head whispered, reminding me of Jennie and Nayeon. I felt like I would enjoy partying with them, getting ready together, trying on outfits. I wanted this college experience that I had missed out on, which I suddenly realized with a desperate longing. My negative experiences at my old school had taken so much from me. And I wanted to take it all back.

“Hoseok!” A voice shouted from behind us, one I didn’t recognize from earlier. More introductions, I thought with reluctance, yet excitement. 

A new person approached us. 

“Who’s this?” He asked, looking me up and down. I suddenly grew conscious of the way I was holding my body, feeling awkward. My face heated up involuntarily. This is the kind of attention I was very not used to. 

“I’m Y/N,” I answered for myself. “I just transferred here.”

“Well, if you’re new around here, why don’t you come to my house party on Friday night? That’s one of the best introductions you can get to life around here, babe,” He said, smiling cockily. “You have anyone you want to come?”

I blanked. I barely knew anyone, except– “My roommates,” I blurted. “Jennie and Nayeon–”

“I want to go, too,” Hoseok pouted. I shoved him out of my conversation. Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking. 

“I know those two,” The man said, rubbing his chin. “Hoseok, you’re invited, too. Bring the same shit as last time, I don’t remember what it was, I just remember it was good shit.” 

“Aye aye, Captain Wang,” Hoseok gave a salute. 

“Look forward to seeing you at your first Jackson Wang house party, Y/N,” the man said. “Catch you later.”

I stood there for a moment. “Wow,” laughing, I turned to Hobi. “I cant believe I got invited to a house party so soon after we talked about it. It’s like the kind of thing that happens in shitty fanfiction.” 

“Not just any house party,” Hoseok also laughed, “A Jackson Wang house party. He must have thought you were hot shit, no one gets an invite if he doesn’t know you, especially letting you invite your own guests.” 

I grew uneasy. “I doubt that,” my face felt warm. “I’m sure he was just being nice.”

“He’s probably gonna try to “be nice” his way into your pants.” 

“Oh, whatever. He’s not even my type,” I stammered, suddenly angry. I wouldn’t give up this opportunity just because he only invited me to hit on me. It was my first party of college, basically ever, and Friday was the last day before classes started. 

If I wanted to get fucked up , that would be my choice. I didn’t want my old life to take anything from me. 

Chapter Text

I was already regretting my vow to myself I had made earlier this week. My vision was spinning, the feeling exacerbated by the booming music and the suffocating crush of the dancers around me, pushing and shoving me across the room. My cup had emptied long ago, yet I still had a vice grip on the red plastic thing, my lifeline, in this sea of gyrating bodies. 

Head spinning, I tried scanning the room for Hobi or Seokjin, who I knew were at the party. Were they? I can’t remember very much, the memory of arriving at Jackson Wang’s party is fuzzy and far away in my mind, made cloudy by the influence of alcohol and loud music. 

I couldn’t find either of the boys, and my frustration grew. Not much of a drinker, I had a lower tolerance for alcohol, and I fear I consumed too much in such a short amount of time. 

Changing tactics, I decided to try and look for either of my roommates. We had gotten ready together in our room, and when I mentioned I didn’t own any party ready outfits, Nayeon hurriedly called one of her friends that wore my size dress, and as a result, I was now basically tripping over myself wearing one of the sluttiest things I’ve ever worn. 

I felt unstoppable. 

The dress hugged my body in a very delicious way I wasn’t used to with my regular attire, and the color complimented my complexion nicely. Unfortunately, if I so much as bent over too far, I could end up flapping my lips for everyone to see, and that would simply be too much to bear. I don’t think the onlookers could handle seeing such beauty anyways. 

Back to the issue at hand, I also couldn’t find my roommates either. What happened to girls sticking together? I groaned internally, still conscious enough to make a jab at the unlucky circumstances. 

Finally, I reached the end of the sea of people. Having reached the shore, I had a better view of the crowd. Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to make sense of what was happening. My head spun, and it was hard to think. 

Out of nowhere, a hand shot out and grabbed my arm, yanking me towards the attacker. I ran into them, nearly smashing my head into his nose. Being drunk definitely didn’t help this, and this stranger had to set me back on my feet so I didn’t eat shit and flash my ass to all of the lucky onlookers. Strangely, uncontrollable giggles bubbled up from out of my throat at the situation, and I finally looked at who grabbed me. 

This was someone I had never met, my hopes of it being Hobi or Seokjin extinguished. But my drunk mind wasn’t good at distinguishing friend from foe. 

“Hello, have we met?” I slurred, still giggling.

“No, but I’d like to get to know you, gorgeous,” The man looked me up and down, hand still on my arm, for some reason. His grip was almost too rough, digging into my skin, as if he didn’t want me to leave. 

I laughed in his face. “You didn’t need to grab my arm to do that. Let go, please.” It really was starting to hurt my arm, and my subconscious was already deciding I didn’t particularly feel like getting to know this stranger. 

“C’mon, gorgeous, we can talk better in private, where it’s quiet,” he didn’t let go. He started trying to pull me away from the crowd towards a hallway I couldn’t see the end of. Alarm bells I had been too drunk to notice began blaring louder than the music, as I finally realized his true intentions. He was eyeing me hungrily, full of lust; he didn’t want to know me, he wanted to know what I looked like under this dress, and as his grip tightened again around my arm, I could feel just how desperately he wanted it.

God damn it, where is Hoseok?? I seethed, definitely going to yell at him over this later.

Before I had the chance to open my mouth and cause a massive scene, I felt a warm, gentle arm wrap around my waist, and pull me away from the stranger. 

The newcomer said, like a guardian angel, “Get the hell away from my girlfriend.”

YOONGI 

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

I never get paid enough to be doing this. 

The party had just started, and people were streaming in. Jackson had briefed me beforehand what kind of music he wanted me to work with, what the vibes were, all of that shit. 

He always does this when he has me DJ for him, even though he knows once everyone gets drunk enough, they’re not gonna give a shit what music is playing as long as it’s got a good beat. I have a hunch it’s just to make me feel more important so I’ll put up with the bullshit amount he pays me per party. 

So why do I agree? 

I don’t fucking know, either. It’s mostly from Namjoon’s encouraging, I don’t know if he thinks I want to be a DJ or if it’s because no one else wants to do it. Either way, it gives me something to do. As the DJ, I don’t have to talk to very many people except when they drunkenly shout out the name of a song they want played. 

And I AM good at it. Being a music production major, it comes naturally to work with music, and after a while I enter a flow state where I barely even need to pay attention to what I’m doing with my hands, and I can do my one main reason for agreeing to this (essentially) manual labor: people watching.

I know everybody that comes to these parties. Jackson Wang parties have very rigid guest lists, you have to be personally invited by Jackson himself. So I know almost every face that I see out on the dance floor, hips moving and gyrating to music that I control. 

It's entertaining to me, watching people interact. I’ve seen people get into fights because they saw their ex dancing with another girl. Or two men fighting because one of them stepped on the other’s foot one too many times. 

So tonight, I’m not surprised when I see the usual problem-causers escorted out for some fresh air. But I am surprised when I see one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen walk into the room, and I don’t recognize her. It isn’t incredibly often when there's a new person invited to a party. Especially one so breathtaking. 

She seems nervous, it’s clear on her face. But it doesn’t take away from her presence, I notice. She still carries herself with a powerful conviction, like she's screaming out “I’m here, and I have always belonged here.” 

I drop my gaze, scolding myself. I don’t know this woman. She’s just new, is all. As a matter of fact, she’s talking to Namjoon, so I can ask him about her later to see if she really is new, or if I just somehow didn’t notice her. 

There’s something so intriguing, so amazing about this girl. She just seemed so genuinely fun to be around. I keep spotting this girl out from the crowd, sometimes she’s dancing with her girl friends she arrived with, or she’s chatting with Namjoon and Hoseok. I watch her throw her head back with laughter, nearly spilling her drink on her dress. I can’t hear her laugh over the music. But I find myself smiling anyway.

I shake myself again, genuinely bewildered. Why am I so fixated on this girl? I don’t even know her name. Lord above, she could have a boyfriend or something . I remember about an hour ago when her and her girl friend were grinding on each other. Or a girlfriend, who knows. Point is, I don’t even know her. Get a grip. 

My mental scolding wasn’t working very well. I just felt dejected, not particularly wanting to be at this party anymore. The smell of sex and alcohol was slowly permeating the room, mixed in with the pungent smells of cologne and perfume. I needed fresh air, and that need was growing alarmingly fast. 

My palms grew sweaty, and I put the playlist on autoplay, figuring no one would even notice the DJ had bailed. I stepped around my booth, having to shoulder my way through couples violently tongue fucking and people drunkenly swaying to the music that was now left unattended. I didn’t care, at this point. I just needed to get away from this party, the smells, and the intoxicating presence of that girl . 

I was rounding the crowd, it was a massive central room of Jackson’s house, and it took nearly a minute just to go from one side to the other. Genuinely, it’s unbelievable how much square footage is in this room alone. When I almost got to the door, I heard a drunk man’s oily and creepy voice, “C’mon, gorgeous, we can talk better where it’s private.” 

Oh, hell no. I wanted  to get away from this party, but I knew something fucked up was happening where that voice came from, I turned on my heel and followed the source. I’m not a violent person, but at a party where drunk people can’t defend themselves, I’ll do what I can. 

Coming up on the scene, my heart leapt in my throat at what I beheld. 

It was the girl, the same one that was haunting my thoughts since she walked into the party and effortlessly declared every inch of my attention was hers. A hand was ensnared around her wrist, and the man whose voice I heard was leaning into her ear, very clearly trying to lead her away from him. 

I don’t know why I chose to go about it in this way, but I made my choice. Maybe I made my choice long before I even knew she needed help. But I came up behind her, wrapped my arm around her waist, and pulled her away from the creep. 

What came out of my mouth was surprising for all three of us. “Get the hell away from my girlfriend.” 

Chapter Text

Y/N

“Get the hell away from my girlfriend.” 

What the fuck? For a moment, alarm blared in my head, but even in my drunk state I could tell this new person didn’t mean any harm. His hold on my waist was protective, yet respectful. I couldn’t see his face, and his voice didn’t sound at all familiar. But as of right now, he was all I had between me and the creep in front of me. 

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend. Back off.” My words were only slightly more coherent, which wasn’t helping my intended effect of scaring off this weird guy. I leaned back into this stranger's embrace, hoping he would be okay with me going along with his lie. 

“Yoongi? Since when did you have a girlfriend? I didn’t even know you were capable of speaking,” the man spat, getting agitated. 

“Fuck off, Eren,” My guardian angel named Yoongi spat back, sounding genuinely pissed off. “If I see you talking to her again, I’ll have Jackson kick you out. Permanently.” He shifted his position, pulling me closer to him, probably to sell the lie even better. Goosebumps erupted across my arms when I felt his breath along the side of my neck. 

This threat seemed to register to Eren, who apparently deemed his attendance at these parties incredibly important to his identity. He paled, and shuffled away awkwardly. 

Yoongi spoke softly into my ear, sounding slightly panicked. “I’m so sorry about grabbing you,” he let go of my waist, taking a step back. I found myself very oddly saddened by the loss of warmth pressed against my side. “I panicked, and you looked like you needed help.”

I finally got a look at his face, my jaw almost dropping to the floor. Yoongi was extremely handsome. His black hair was pushed back away from his face, and it was messy like he’d been running his hands through it all night. But in his eyes was fear as he waited for my response. 

Is he afraid I’m upset at him? “I did need help,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. “Thank you.” 

He gave me a small smile, but I could tell he was still worried. “Do you need water?” He asked, pointing his thumb behind his shoulder in the direction of another hallway. “I could, uh– take you to get some.” 

“Yes, please,” I begged, not wanting to be here anymore. Truthfully, I had wanted to leave the second I had lost my friends. But it was more apparent now that I had literally required rescuing from someone I didn’t even know. Again, I was going to yell at Hoseok over this later. 

Yoongi led me down a hallway until we reached a kitchen, which was surprisingly empty. I would have thought a bunch of drunk people would be raiding the fridge, but I guess not. He opened the fridge, digging out a plastic water bottle and handing it to me. 

“Thank you, again,” I said, immediately slamming back half the water bottle. “I’m really glad you showed up.” There was that small smile again, but that couldn’t distract me from the other signs he was still worrying. 

I knew that, because I did the same things all the time at my old school. The deep breathing, looking around the room like you’re looking for an exit, wringing out your fingers. I’m more familiar with the body language of anxiety than a lot of people. 

“Your name is Yoongi, right?” I asked, pulling his attention back to the present. 

“Yes, Min Yoongi. What’s yours?”

“L/N Y/N,” I said, holding out my hand and smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, guardian angel.” 

He paused, staring at my outstretched hand. On his face grew a brilliant, heart-stopping smile. He had a gummy smile that felt like a clear summer day, and I’m pretty sure I imagined a very pretty pink dusting his cheekbones. Probably just the lighting. 

He returned my handshake. His hand was warm, the memory of it settled on my hip suddenly fresh on my mind. Since when was I even a handshake person? I thought, no longer delirious from alcohol, but from a secret evil alternative (my rescuer turned out to be really attractive). 

Yoongi seemed less nervous now, and just seemed tired. “Do you want me to walk you home? In case Eren comes back?” I frowned, considering the offer. 

“I should probably find my friend first, which is how I ended up in that situation in the first place,” Irritation flared up inside me, annoyed at Hoseok again. He can search for me himself, actually, I thought with every petty bone in my body. “Just kidding, I’m mad at him right now, so I would appreciate the company back to my room.” 

If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought Yoongi looked relieved that I'd accepted his company. I’m pretty sure he’s just ready to leave the party and go to sleep back in his own room.

 And, if I was being completely, truthfully honest with myself, I would say I wanted to spend more time with my very attractive guardian angel. But I’m a liar at heart, so I’m going to just say I’m afraid of The Creep coming back. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

YOONGI 

What the fuck are you doing, Yoongi?

I was walking her back to her dorm. For her own safety and surely no other reason, Y/N said yes. 

Earlier, when I got Eren to fuck off, she turned around to look at me, and my god, she stole my breath away. I hadn’t actually seen her up close yet, and she was just as beautiful as I had seen from afar. There was a playful, yet knowing look in her eyes that made me feel like she had extracted my soul and was analyzing all of it’s flaws. 

I was suddenly doused with fear, realizing my method of rescue could very well have made her extremely uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I wanted. Sincerely apologizing, I offered to get her water, and she obliged. 

It wasn’t until she stuck out her hand, smiled up at me with a truly lovely smile, and said “Nice to meet you, guardian angel,” that I felt reassured that I hadn’t actually completely fucked up. I felt my face warm up at her appraisal, which was stupid, considering she was only thanking me for the save. 

I offered to walk her back to her dorm, wanting to make sure Eren didn’t mess with her again. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she initially declined. But she changed her mind, much to my relief. 

Which leads us back to the present.

 I wasn’t much of a talker, and either Y/N was, or she was still drunk, because she filled the space of our walk to her dorm with questions.

Questions about me. 

Something I certainly wasn’t used to. You would think, being a part time DJ, I would get a lot of attention. But outside of that, I only had a few close friends, and a lot fewer people were interested in making conversation with me. 

Through her questioning, I also learned some things about her. She was best friends with Hoseok and acquaintances with Namjoon. She’s a biochemistry major, and I wondered if her interest in biochemistry was why she was so analytical, asking me so many questions. 

I told her I was a music production major and that I was the DJ at the party we both just left, which she seemed to be really impressed by. It was hard not to find that flattering. 

In turn, I surprised myself by asking her questions of my own, wanting to continue the conversation. Like I said, I’m not a talkative person, and something about the way Y/N spoke, the passion in her voice when she talked about her interests, led me to throw more topics in her direction.

 I was content just listening to her. A small voice in the back of my mind (that I was trying and failing to ignore) was hoping she was also enjoying talking to me. Lord knew I wasn’t the most engaging conversationalist. 

We reached her door, and I felt an uncontrollable sense of disappointment. I don’t even know this girl. But she talked to me and walked beside me like we were already friends, like she enjoyed my company. Stop being delusional , I yelled at myself as we turned to face each other. She’s nice to talk to, so what?  

“I gotta get to bed, I’m wiped out,” she said, looking into my eyes. God, those eyes again. Her tongue swept over her bottom lip, and I completely missed what she said next.

“Uh, I spaced out for a second–” I stammered, feeling like a fucking idiot because I was staring at her damn pretty mouth instead of actually listening.

She laughed, repeating herself. “I said, can I have your number? So we can be friends?” She broke eye contact, appearing nervous to speak for the first time since we left the party. 

My mouth dried. God, I wanted to talk to her again. And I don’t know if I would have had the nerve to ask for her number, so I jumped on this opportunity. 

“Oh– Yeah, sure, you can have my number.” I said, trying to be nonchalant as if her request didn’t make my heart start pounding in my chest. It’s just a fucking phone number, it’s not like she asked you out on a date. I scolded myself, yet again. It seemed like I was constantly scolding myself when it came to Y/N. 

She ended up putting her number into my phone because her phone was dead, saving her own contact name as “girlfriend <3”.

“...Girlfriend?” I asked, disbelieving. Externally, I acknowledged she was just joking, well aware she was referring to when I called her my girlfriend in my heroic rescue. Internally, I was experiencing the heat death of the universe, my heart nearly giving out. Jesus Christ, I’ve known her for only half an hour, and I can feel myself unravelling at the seams. 

“You can change it, obviously, I'm just messing with you.” She chuckled at her own joke. She began heading into her room. “Good night, Yoongi. Thanks again for everything.” 

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Again trying to be nonchalant, I walked away from her doorway, keeping my cool until I heard her door click shut. I immediately started speed walking in a panic until I left the building, pulling my phone out again. 

Girlfriend <3 stared at me in my contacts, but I scrolled down until I reached God of Destruction. With a shaky thumb, I clicked Voicemail . 

Lifting my phone to my mouth, I sent Namjoon the voicemail that would seal my fate:
“Man, we need to talk, call me back when you can. I’m so fucking screwed.”

Chapter Text

YOONGI

“Dude, you need to chill the fuck out,” Namjoon’s voice was muffled from him rubbing his hands over his face, exasperated. He was clearly too tired to be dealing with the bullshit I threw on his shoulders at two in the morning. “Can you start over from the beginning?”

Presently, I was seated across from him in a stool in his kitchen, and he was working behind the counter lazily making us late night snacks. I found myself too wired to be very hungry.

 I wasn’t about to outright decline his food, however, considering about ten seconds after I left that very concerning voicemail about 30 minutes ago, he called me back demanding to know what happened. Very rarely does Namjoon raise his voice at me, or anyone, really, except for his roommate. 

Which is why I’m here, currently, head in my hands and leg bouncing up and down uncontrollably. I hadn’t consumed any alcohol at that party, and yet, I feel like I’m borderline wasted purely on the feeling of anxious dread growing in my gut. 

I sighed, starting over from the beginning, again. Namjoon had been woken up from a very dead, probably drunken sleep, and had clearly not slept off all of the influence of alcohol yet.

 I couldn’t be mad at him for me needing to repeat myself, since my present issue was not very straightforward. The only thing I could do was accept the help he’s offering me, and right now, he’s my lifeline. 

“I was DJ’ing for Jackson at the party tonight, like I usually do,” I began, running my hand through my hair. Recollecting the events of the beginning of my unmaking was frighteningly easy. “And.. there was this girl in the crowd.”

Talking about my emotions has always been like pulling teeth, but this was Namjoon. My best friend since we were first learning to walk, essentially. If I couldn’t tell Namjoon something that was bothering me, I couldn’t tell fucking anybody . 

“Okay, you were DJ’ing, you saw a girl. What’s next?” He urged me to continue.

“I just… continued working, for a while.” I paused, considering exactly how much to tell him. Did he really know I spent almost the rest of the time just watching her from across the room? Wishing I could be down there with her and Namjoon? 

Shifting the focus, I said, “I saw you talking to her, actually, she’s friends with Hoseok?” I put out there, not saying her name out of hopes Namjoon would just know who I’m talking about. So that I wouldn’t have to say it, the name of the girl who’s been following my thoughts like the lingering smell of perfume. 

Namjoon paused, thinking. “I remember her,” he said slowly, painstakingly pulling her face from his memory. Something I doubt I’ll ever have to struggle to do, a traitorous voice in my head whispered, which I pointedly ignored. “I think her name is Y/N?” 

I nodded. “Yes, it is,” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Fuck off, I’m getting to how I know that.” I took a bite out of the questionable looking mystery food Namjoon had put in front of me. I forgot his food always tastes way better when I’m wasted, I grimaced, eyes watering. How Namjoon is a culinary major is completely beyond me. “I got bored of DJ’ing, so I left. And as I was leaving, I overheard some creep hitting on someone who was drunk, so I headed over to break that shit up.” 

“Do you like it?” Namjoon interjected, pointing at the mysterious (edible?) obelisk I was holding while he slammed his own portion, and I gave him a convincing nod.

 I wasn’t about to tell him it tasted like moose knuckle when I really needed his company and understanding, or he'd throw me on my ass and tell me to sort it out myself. 

“It’s great, Nam,” I said around a mouthful of ?????. “Anyways, when I got to the commotion, I saw the drunk person getting hit on was Y/N, and the creep was Eren, go figure.” The venom in my voice at the mention of Eren had nothing to do with the sinister food creation Namjoon had just fed me. The dude was genuinely a creep who mooched off of Jackson and lived with him rent free. 

“Of course it’s fucking Eren,” Namjoon agreed. “What happened when you got there?”

“I– uh. Sort of panicked, I don’t know why I decided to intervene like this. I’m so fucking stupid–” 

“Yoongi, stop. Whatever you did, all that matters is you actually stepped in when someone was in danger. I’m sure whatever it was only could have helped her. Now, what did you do?”

“I came up and grabbed her and told Eren to fuck off. And I called Y/N my girlfriend.” I bit out, pulling each of my teeth out one by one would have been easier than saying that confidently. 

Namjoon paused, considering. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. What are you worried about?”

“I called her my girlfriend, in front of Eren.”

“Yeah, and I’m assuming it worked and he fucked off? What’s the big deal?” 

“You know how Eren is, dude. It’s happened before where he makes a girl’s life a living hell for the crime of having a boyfriend who isn’t him.” I finally said it, what’s been worrying me since I left Y/N’s door and stared at the girlfriend <3 in my contacts. 

This made Namjoon think again, this time looking more worried. “Shit, you’re right. So, you’re worried this will happen to Y/N?”

I exhaled with relief, glad he finally understood what had me so worked up. I didn’t want to get this innocent woman harassed just because I was lying to protect her at a fucking house party. 

“I just– I walked her back to her room after everything, and we talked. A lot . She seems like a genuinely amazing person, Nam. I don’t know what to do to protect her.” 

Namjoon laughed, which pissed me off. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Yoongi talking to somebody? A lot? I think you think she’s a lot more than just a ‘genuinely amazing person.’” Namjoon gave me a shit eating grin, like he saw right through my bullshit. 

Obviously, I don’t want anybody to be harassed. But me caring this much about someone I had just met? 

My face warmed up. “Fuck off, I don’t even know her. I just don’t want her to catch shit because of what I said.” Namjoon kept smiling. 

He was cleaning up his mess behind the counter. Knowing I wouldn’t directly admit anything, (not that there’s anything to admit to, mind you,) he tried an indirect approach. 

“Remind me again who Y/N is. I think I know, but what does she look like? So I know I’m thinking of the right girl.” 

I paused, thinking. It wasn’t very hard to conjure up her face in my mind. “She was wearing this skin tight dress, it was sparkly.” I looked at Namjoon, who was still looking at me, waiting for me to elaborate. “She’s– really pretty.” Big fucking understatement, sang that treacherous voice again. 

“Ahh, yes, I remember her now. She is really pretty, and wow, the way she looked in that dress–” Namjoon said wistfully, remembering. But he only said that for one reason, and we both fucking knew it. He looked down at my hands on the counter, which were balled up in a fist, knuckles white with tension. Giving me a knowing smirk, he shook his head. 

“I’m just messing with you, man. It’s okay to like her, you know. She really is nice, from what I remember. I think you guys would work well together.” Namjoon reassured me, completely reading my body language. 

“I don’t like her. Like I said, I just don’t want her to suffer because of me.”

“Why are you pretending like you’re not into her?”

“I’m not pretending.” 

Namjoon sighed. I didn’t blame him. To admit something like that to him wasn’t something I was even ready to admit to myself. The feelings that came with even thinking about Y/N were swirling, complex, and terrifying. 

And I barely fucking knew the girl.

“So what do I do?” I asked, genuinely begging for advice. 

“Y/N is friends with Hoseok, and Hoseok is friends with almost everybody,” Namjoon said slowly, considering what to say that would be the most effective at assuaging my fears. “I think Y/N will be okay as long as we pay attention to make sure no one is fucking with her. So just, keep an eye on her. Maybe you could be friends with her, that would make it way easier, if you know what I mean.” Something in his eyes told me he didn’t just mean easier for me to protect her. 

“Just friends. You are correct.”

He gave me an incredulous look, and patted me on the shoulder. “When you’re ready to admit that you’re into her, come talk to me again,” he said, yawning. “Hoseok and I would be happy to be wingmen for you. For now, get the fuck out and go to bed.” 

I thanked Namjoon for talking, and finally headed back to my apartment. I didn’t live in the dorms, on account of really enjoying the privacy of having my own bedroom and a studio. But I was too fucking drained to do anything except for collapse onto my bed and look at the time on my phone.

Groaning at the lack of sleep I knew was soon to come, I contemplated my conversation with Namjoon. Becoming friends with Y/N would really help me to make sure she didn’t experience harassment because of my actions. However, becoming her friend would also mean… just being around her and her wonderful energy that she carried with her. 

The very idea of it swirled and fluttered around in my chest, feeling both freeing and dangerous at the same time. I had to tread carefully. The traitorous idea that she would crave my presence this much was extremely foreign, and yet… I couldn’t help but have a small, small glimmer of hope. 

Half-lidded, falling asleep at the wheel, essentially– I opened my contacts, clicked the name that was haunting me, and sent a singular text.