Archive of Our Own

A heavy sigh escapes Yoongi’s lips as his head bumps against Namjoon’s wooden desk. The whole thing wobbles slightly, making Joon hurriedly steady his screen, side glancing at Yoongi. His lips straighten, but he says nothing, his glare softening when he sees the state his partner is in. Without a word, his hand falls from his computer screen and goes to Yoongi’s neck, massaging it nicely. A new sigh leaves the producer’s pouting lips, albeit undoubtedly happier. They stay like this for a couple of minutes, Yoongi’s breath steadying and Namjoon wordlessly easing up the nerves tensing up his friend. Yet, way too soon, another heavy sigh slips from his lips again, and Joon rolls his eyes, slapping weakly against his pale skin. 

“Will you stop sighing already?”

Yoongi lifts his head up, jerks his hand away, glaring at his best friend, and brings his hood up, snuggling back into his sweater. He can’t help it. He knows it’s silly, and it won’t bring them anywhere closer to finishing this track, but they’ve been working on it for days, weeks even, and it’s still so far from being near good. It’s driving him crazy, but there’s nothing he can do, because tweaking the bridge and the chorus for the umpteenth time clearly isn’t doing it. Maybe, just maybe, if he sighs loud enough, Taehyung’s angel will actually hear his despair and grant him some last minute inspiration. He’s clearly not the type to grant a surnaturel being the privilege of having accomplished his track, but he’s also not the type to struggle on a track for as long as he has on this one, so fuck it — if the angel wants to help, now’s the time. He won’t say any word of this to Namjoon and Taehyung, obviously, for fear of being mocked until the end of time, but he sure as hell can think about it until some goddamn miracle happens.

“You know what, why don’t you take a break?” suggests Namjoon suddenly, turning his head to face Yoongi. “Go outside, take a walk, grab noodles, hug a tree, I don’t know, do something.

- Are you seriously kicking me out of my own studio?,” deadpans Yoongi, slightly offended.

Namjoon has the gall to laugh out loud, the fucker, his two dimples showing, and Yoongi knows he’s already forgiven him. He keeps his scowl on nonetheless, trying to glare at him. 

“Come on man, how long has it been since you’ve been out? I mean, not just to get back home from the studio or anything, actually out, taking in the fresh air?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, because they both know it’s been far too long. It’s not really his fault; things have been batshit crazy since they’ve announced Taehyung’s comeback album. It’s supposed to come out in  a month and a half, and two of the b-sides are still far from being completely produced, to his full despair. They spent ages with the artist, their long-life friend, trying to minutely perfect the songs, to the point where Taeyhung himself almost can’t listen to his own productions which is, honestly, less than ideal for any musician. So, yeah. Taking in the fresh air really hasn’t been his top one priority, these days. Maybe Namjoon’s right. He ought to go out a bit more. They just recently moved their label to this new building, in a new neighbourhood, one that’s less creepy and cheap than the one they all started in. They said goodbye to their old revamped garage, turned in a studio for wannabe soundcloud rappers who weirdly got insane success underground, to the point they were actually able to rent out a proper studio: still in that same shabby neighbourhood, though. Ain’t no one got house, rings and money in a hot minute. It was still more than Yoongi ever expected all this to go. When they actually set up their label, Namjoon and him, Taehyung was still a college student, finishing his bachelor in music with a minor in vocal performances. Yoongi knew his childhood friend was good, but he was far from the hip hop style Namjoon and him had fun playing around with. 

When Joon suggested they draft up an RnB piece for Tae, it had mostly been a joke. The views went crazy, though. The three of them really created something. Slowly, things started going wild. Their label got popular — people craved for content from V, RM and Suga. Hoseok joined the label as lead choreographer, helping create the best universe for Tae, soon after. Namjoon had met him at college, too, but he never really introduced him to Yoongi before that. They all hit it off instantly. Hoseok’s fingers probably lingered on Taehyung’s receptive waist slightly longer than Yoongi was professionally comfortable with, but their relationship had never put a strain on their musical activities. It almost made Tae even groovier, which Yoongi resented slightly: listening to his childhood best friend sexy up his voice for his main dancer never had been his goal in life, per se. Despite all his worries, though, the first album was pure bliss. Their creativity was unleashed, the inspiration pulsed through their blood veins, and everything was going so good. They did low-key show cases, limited numbers of invites, cultivated that mysterious vibe people loved so much. 

V took a small break, after that, but BigHit — which was how they named themselves, big headed as their were — didn’t lay down because of that. Namjoon and him continued dropping exclusive content, mostly heart-achingly aggressive rap, which mellowed down slightly ever since Namjoon had started going on his weird ass daily walks at the crack of dawn. They released a couple of collab work with V, slowly teasing his return, while digging the internet for another artist to add to their team. For variety, had said Namjoon. To have double the fun, had suggested Tae. A good dancer, had chipped in Hoseok. Yoongi had only sighed, knowing he’d go with whatever these fools would want anyway. They had their eyes on one, Jeon Jungkook, for a couple of weeks now — and they all kinda knew they’d get in touch with him once V’s promotion were over with. One crazy man at the time, right? was Yoongi’s only condition, after all. They’d moven out of their shitty neighbourhood shortly after announcing V’s new album, dropping way too soon, thinking it’d be more proper, more reassuring, to be in a good place if they wanted to sign up Jeon. And, busy as he was, Yoongi hadn’t taken the time to get out of the studio to properly enjoy his new, fancy neighbourhood. 

When he steps out of their small building, snuggled up in his long scarf, hat all the way down his ears, Yoongi rethinks this whole idea at least twenty times. It’s not really cold, spring almost all the way in, but he’s never been a sucker for chilly times. Considering he hasn’t really gotten out for ages, this subtle breeze is still too much for him. His cheeks have reddened and he’s positive his nose is going to fall off if he stays outside any longer. He knows Namjoon will scowl if he goes back in so soon, though, and he’s really not in the mood for a long, glaring stare. Playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, the twenty-something producer lets his legs walk him around, slowly taking in his surroundings. The neighbourhood is, no doubt, really pretty. Trees are starting to bloom, the grass is getting greener, and small indie shops are welcoming him on each and every corner. He could grab some coffee, another decaf ice americano to get him through the reminder of the night. It’s almost seven, now, and most shops will be closing anyway.

Eyebrows raised, Yoongi suddenly stops in front of a shop whose front window is absurdly cute. Unable to tell whether it’s a music shop or a coffee shop, the man steps forward, almost waddling towards the front door, fingers distractingly playing with the end of his scarf. Discretely, he tries to look inside, observing the cosy atmosphere the shop gives. The walls, painted in a soft yellow, are graced by minimalist yet captivating artworks. Everything inside is made out of wood, from the stools to the tables and countertops. Green touches pop out here and there, thanks to the multitude of plants decorating each table and hanging from the walls. The odour of freshly roasted coffee beans tickles Yoongi’s nose, who finds himself opening up the door without even realising it. On the right side of the store, rows of vinyl records and CDs are carefully classified by genre and artists. A couple of piles are slightly less organised, giving it a homey vibe that immediately speaks to Yoongi. What catches his attention, however, is a stand out shelf where RM’s whole discography stands proud and tall. Brows furrowed, Yoongi almost doesn’t hear the cheery welcome coming from the counter — he still mumbles a hello back, too busy looking at the shelf to look at the barista. 

What the hell is this? is all he can think as he takes tiny steps towards the shelf. His lips turn in a slight smirk as he looks at every EP and CDs this tiny record store slash coffeeshop managed to collect. Some of those aren’t even commercialised anymore — there’s some OG mixtapes Namjoon and him put out at the very beginning of their soundcloud aventures, in there. Hiding his smirk behind his scarf, Yoongi leans forward as he sees blue and white post-its on top of a couple of CDs. One of them reads “Joke slaps, and it slapped my heart hard when I first heard it. If you’re at a stage where all you feel is spiel against the world and its injustice, RM’s early work might help you come to terms with this anger bubbling inside yourself. A cathartic work, no doubt. Favourite line? “My pen is stronger than your dirty tongue” — rec by Jinkook”. Weirdly touched, Yoongi slips his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture, making notes to show Namjoon later. Demotivated as they are, weird motivational and enthusiastic post-its like this are a goldmine. He jerks away when he hears a cheerful voice right behind him, as if hit by thunder. Not that he was guilty of anything, but he still feels at odd for having taken a picture of their little note. The voice sounds nothing but curious as it says:

“Are you interested in RM’s work? My colleagues Jin-hyung and Kook-ah are way more knowledgeable about him, as the post-its show ; I’m afraid I’m more of a sugar addict, but they’re not here this afternoon, and I’m sure I could give you enough basic advice if you need some.” 

Yoongi finally turns towards the voice, mind a little dizzy with all the information the barista slash record dealer had sprung on him. Sugar addict? Jin-hyung? Kook-ah? What the fuck? Every question promptly disappears from his mind as his eyes stumble upon the man beside him for the first time. It’s as if he’d been swiped off his feet, and Yoongi knows he must look dumb as hell, gaping at the man. How could he not, when an absolute beauty had just walked up to him as if he were nothing but a mere mortal? His puffy cheeks are slightly pink, a tiny dust of flour sprinkling the left one, and his gorgeous lips are turned upwards into a beautiful smile, all the most welcoming. It falls down a little, however, as Yoongi keeps silent, and he tilts his face to the side a bit, his pink bubblegum hair falling on his eyes as he looks at his weird client. He must look weird, it’s sure, not saying a word, bundled up in his long ass scarf, his hat, hand-knitted by Taehyung feeling heavy on his head. Goddamn it, why’d he go out, again? Fuck Namjoon, seriously, since when does Yoongi listen to him?

“Sir, everything’s alright? Sorry, have I surprised you? I didn’t mean to bother.”

The plush lips have turned downwards, this time, in a pouty face that makes Yoongi shivers, and he breaks his eye away from the vision for fear of wanting to kiss them silly. What the — he’s gone insane. He shakes his head, both to anchor himself back in the real world and to reassure the man that he’s done nothing wrong. Clearing up his voice, he mumbles:

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s all good. I didn’t hear you come by, that’s all.” Yoongi takes a long breath in, turning his eyes away from the beautiful man to look at the shelf again. “I wasn’t curious about the artist, no — I mean, I know all about him, don’t worry.” Know too much about him, really, if that’s a thing, he wants to add, but he’s not about to say who he really is to a random man in a store, as pretty as he is. “No need for advice, then. Thanks though.”

The man stays silent for a couple of seconds, a little “Oh” escaping his lips. Yoongi can see him awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, and he guesses he probably made it weird, weirder even, if possible, by dismissing him so abruptly. Swallowing, the producer points to the post-it notes with his index finger, hoping his voice doesn’t come out high pitched when he asks, curiously:

“Why’d you do that? Where’d you have those, even?” he adds, his finger shifting to the old mixtapes, still wrapped in their original plastic.

And, folks, this is where everything went to hell. In that exact moment, Min Yoongi knew he was lost to mankind. Knew he’d go back to his studio a changed man. Knew he could never look in his friends’ eyes every again for fear that his blush would reveal all of what his mushy brain felt during these silly seconds of his life. He knew, immediately, how fucked he was. He knew, because this stupidly striking man, self-identified as a sugar addict, his own fan, had the most beautiful, silly, absurdly ethereal giggle in the world. A fucking giggle, would angry whisper Yoongi, hours later, head deep in his umpteenth glass of soju. A giggle, rising high and loud from the chest of the bubblegum fairy, shaking up his whole world.

The voice is just as sweet and gentle as it had been the very first time when it falls in Yoongi’s ears again, offering an explanation to his enquiries.

“It was my colleagues’ idea, to be honest. We’re long time fans of these artists, so when we heard that their label moved down the road, we decided to do a little promo shelf — they might never see it, to be fair, that’s not really the point, we were just overly excited and wanted to share with our clients our love for them and their music? RM’s co-owner of Big Hit, I’m sure you know — you said you knew RM, right? Well, their main solo artist, V, is dropping a new album in a month and a half, so we’re hyping up the release by promoting their old productions until then. It felt a bit silly to be putting forward their CDs without any context, though, so we preferred adding little notes with our own commentaries. The next two weeks are still dedicated to RM — if you come back, you’ll see new post-its with different recommendations by Jin-hyung and Kook-ah. I’m not quite involved in RM’s post-its, as I’ve already told you, but starting next month, we’re dedicating two weeks to Suga, which I’m sure you’d love just as much if you enjoy RM, and all of the notes will be mine! Well, most of them. The final two weeks will be all for V, logically, and this Big Hit event ends with his new release. During the Saturdays of the transition weekends, we even host special spoken words and dance nights, with themes inspired by their production, if you’re interested. Kook-ah organised those, because I’m too busy prepping for my dance showcase at the end of the month, but he’s really invested and I’m positive they’ll be a lot of fun. You should definitely come in!”

Slightly taken aback by the monstrous amount of words that just escaped the bubblegum fairy’s mouth, Yoongi silently stares for a minute, wrapping his mind around everything that he just said. A strange warmth fills up his whole body when he realises the shop did all of that for them, for Big Hit, and he has to hide his gummy smile behind his scarf once more. He probably can’t hide his reddening cheeks, though, so he thanks the gods that no one knows what Suga looks like, for the man would have the terrible image of a mushy man instead of the powerful confident figure Suga ought to be. His voice is soft and low, however, when he whispers back:

"That’s a very, very lovely thing to do. I’m sure they’ll stumble upon it one day or another, they’ll probably be very glad to be supported this way.” His satoori comes back full force as his shyness makes him slur his next words slightly: “I’ll definitely think about coming for one of your events, it sounds quite fun.”

He probably won’t be able to, if he’s honest with himself, considering it’ll be the final weeks of production, but he definitely can’t say a flat no to the hopeful and excited figure in front of him. Even less now that a radiant smile curls up the lips of the guy, who nods eagerly.

“I’m happy you think so! I hope we’ll see you, then. Anything I can help you with today, though?” he adds, smile never leaving his face.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi looks towards the counter and mumbles:

“Could I order an iced Americano, please? Decaf, to go?

- Coming right up,” answers with a chirp the young man, almost bouncing back to the coffee side of the shop.

Dear god, he giggles and bounces. A goddamn fairy, swears Yoongi. He’s doomed.

…

It’s been days, weeks almost, yet Yoongi hasn’t been able to shake off the bouncing fairy from his mind. He keeps on hearing his soft giggles and his overexcited voice as he explained his ongoing promotion, again and again, circling back in his head. It’s terrible, it’s a disaster, and yet he’s way too addicted to it. He doesn’t even know his name, for pete’s sake, the barista’s chest void of any name tag. He tried to forget all about it, focusing harder than ever on Taehyung’s album, finalising the last songs, adjusting some bits here and there, preparing the pitch for Jeon Jungkook’s proposal, shit, he even worked on his mixtape to forget all about the man, yet all he hears as he juggles with the title track’s bridge is the giggly voice of the pink-haired man. He thought about talking about it with Namjoon or Hoseok, always ready for some deep open hearted discussion, but his throat closes up immediately whenever he tries to do so. He knows what they’ll say, it’s obvious enough that he doesn’t need to actually ask them. Just go back to the store, dumbass. It is, after all, an obvious answer, a clear solution, a no-brainer. His body and heart betray his brain all the time, however, as he hasn’t been able to convince himself to walk down the street and cross the road to the cute yellow shop. 

Tonight, however, is Saturday evening, and Taehyung and Hobi have both ditched the studio, claiming they honest to god need a lovers’ break before the promotion starts in two weeks — and well, Yoongi gets it, but that leaves him alone in his studio with Namjoon, who’s dumbly scrolling through TikTok, watching random person stroll through nature in the middle of the states. They could be working, but they’re both pretty exhausted, and they don’t have much left to do that they can work on without V’s input. They’re very determined to include the artist in all final decisions, after all. That’s why, probably, he ended up scrolling through his own pictures, searching for one that’d be nice to illustrate the new track he’s thinking of releasing. 28 is pretty personal, and he’s not quite sure why he even came up with it, but it encapsulates soundly all that has been shaking up his head ever since Big Hit blew up. They’re not quite mainstream, shit, not yet, but somehow everything is too big all of the sudden, and he felt for a while that everything escaped him, all his dreams and aspirations, leaving him subject to whatever the fate had decided was up next for him. He’s not quite the type to leave it to fate, though, and 28 was somewhat of a wake up call. He’s ready to put it out for the world to hear, now, he thinks, and that’s why he’s busying this empty night by trying to find a proper cover picture for the song. It’s a bit silly, a bit unnecessary, but he wants it to be a complete work, art and song well thought of, rather than a singular soundcloud link dropped to his twitter with nothing else. He’d done enough of that, he thinks, and this new phase definitely deserves some nice artwork, yeah?

That’s where he’s at with his thinking when his eyes fall on a weird picture, a quick and almost blurry snapshot of a pastel blue post-it. Squinting his eyes, he clicks on the picture and feels his mouth open up with a gasp when he recognises the content. A small smirk curls up his mouth and he turns towards Namjoon, slapping his elbow to catch his attention. 

“Shit Joon, look at that!”

Massaging his elbow, scowling at Yoongi, the tall dimpled man bends forward to see the screen popped in his direction. His eyebrow suddenly lifts up to the sky when he reads the words on the post-it, a beaming smile making its way on his face. 

“What’s this? Who wrote that? Jinkook? Weird ass name!

- I think it’s a mash-up of two names, mumbles Yoongi, as his cheeks tint up in a slight pink when he realises he’ll have to explain where he got this picture from, now.

- And where’d you snap that, then? I gotta say thanks, it’s super sweet. 

- It’s a shop down the road, they sell records and like, brew coffee as well? Remember when you told me to get some air?” Namjoon chuckles and nods, waiting for Yoongi to go on. “Yeah well, I ended up there, and they had this weird ass shelf full of your work, from your OG mixtapes to the old CDs we burned and gave to our bar showcase, remember? They had a couple of those, as well as recent work, and these tiny post-its with cute ass comments on them. They’re doing some kind of long term promotion for V’s latest release, celebrating our arrival in their neighbourhood?” Joon whistles, impressed. 

"Shit, that’s more than sweet. Did we acknowledge this? Did you thank them for that?” Considering Yoongi’s silence, Namjoon growls, and speaks up: “Damn, you can’t be aware of sweet promo like this and not thank them, hyung! Did you as least tell them who you are?”

Shaking his head, the producer locks his phone and, with a mumble, pulls out his hood over his hair again. He puts his chin on his knees, voluntarily ignoring Namjoon’s glare, as he sighs:

“If you want to thank them, there’s some kind of spoken words event tonight, I think. We could go officially and introduce ourselves?”

It’s fair to say Namjoon literally beams at this, pulling Yoongi out of his chair immediately to push him towards the outside of the building. If Joon’s only wearing a thick jacket and some gloves, Yoongi is once again all bundled up in his hand knitted hat and scarf, and a huge fluffy sweater. He’s rocking the overly-cold vibe, these days, mocks Joon as he lets his friend lead the way to the store. Curious, Namjoon stops a couple of steps away from the entrance door, surprised by the group of people already there, mingling together, laughing out loud, sharing drinks.

“Sure it’s open to all?” says Joon.

Yoongi shrugs, honestly unable to say. He’d sure hope so, considering he was invited by the barista there, but that might have been out of politeness. Suddenly hesitant, even more so than he was before coming down here, the Daegu boy slows down his steps, standing still.

“Maybe we shouldn’t….”

A loud shriek interrupts him, however, as a glass falls down on the paved streets. Surprised, they both startle, looking at one another before hurrying towards the noise, hoping to help. All it does, however, is make the shrieking noise start anew, and a loud shushing voice try to cover it. Facing them, two guys, way too tall by Yoongi’s standards, almost as stupidly tall as Namjoon, and absurdly handsome as well. Is that somehow a prerequisites of this store? To be blindingly out of this world? The tallest, with the large shoulders, has his hand slapped on the mouth of the peachy one, looking weirdly familiar, whose cheeks could probably home a dozen of carrots. Amazed by the sight facing them, Namjoon and Yoongi exchange a glance before asking, low voice :

“Is everything alright?”

The conversations around them have taken back up, the clients, Yoongi supposed, picking up their talks from where they’ve left it, before the shrieks happened. The tall handsome man drops his hand away from his friend’s mouth, swiping it on his thigh before giving Namjoon and him a tight smile, jaw clenched. 

“Yes, absolutely, perfectly fine. All’s good. Peachy.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yoongi wants to ask whether he’s really sure everything’s good, but Namjoon’s quicker:

“You’re not hurt, are you?” 

He’s taken a step forward, fingers almost touching the other’s hand, before jerking up, as if he realised what he was going to do. His eyes are fixed on the man’s hands, however, who Yoongi realises was the one holding the glass now on the floor. Smirking, he can’t help but chuckle lowly and ask, voice raspy:

“Why on Earth did you guys freak out like this? Have you seen a ghost?”

A visible gulp later, the oddly familiar guy, face red, mumbles:

“We know who you are.”

And, honestly, that’s an ominous as hell thing to hear. All it does, however, is make Namjoon and Yoongi look at one another before laughing out loud. 

“I mean, considering we’re performers, we’d sure hope so. Not much success if no one knows who we are, right?”

This makes the younger boy squeak again, and Yoongi’s getting impressed, at this point, when he’s stroke by a sudden realisation.

“Well shit, if you’re not Jeon Jungkook!” 

Now then, Yoongi might have forgotten to think twice before dropping something like this, considering the kid has shrieked twice already and gasped out loud whenever the two of them spoke. Surely, letting him know they knew who he was in a casual sentence wasn’t the best way to break the ice. Yoongi, however, wasn’t the type to go by circumvoluted ways, and this was, honestly, the smoothest he could do. This time, however, the tall wide guy looked slightly more wary, taking a careful step away from Namjoon, and putting his hand on Jeon’s elbow.

“How’d you know him?”

For the umpteenth time in the past couple of minutes, Namjoon and Yoongi share a glance, leading the smallest of the two to shrug, as if authorising the youngest to reveal it all. Squaring up his shoulders, Namjoon puts on his best professional smile, and grabs a small card in his pocket.

"My name’s Kim Namjoon, and here’s Min Yoongi. We’re co-owners of Big Hit Labels, we’ve just relocalised down the road, perhaps you’ve heard of us? I guess you know of our performance names, RM and SUGA, considering your reactions,” he acknowledges with a softer smile, one dimple showing, before pursuing: “We’re quite aware of Jeon Jungkook and, more particularly, his work, as we have been preparing a very thorough plan to invite him to join our company, if you’d so like. It’s our pleasure meeting you, Jungkook-ssi,” concludes the rapper with a bow, which Yoongi slowly imitates, albeit less enthusiastic. 

Gaping, Jeon Jungkook looks at the two of them with the biggest eyes Yoongi’s ever seen. He feels a smile stretch on his lips, and he immediately tries to blank his expression — can’t afford to go all soft on a guy thinking he’s all-confident SUGA. Not quite so soon. In a couple of months, perhaps, when they’re both overly tired in his studio, coming up with a banger hit signed with both of their names, perhaps then he’d afford going slightly soft on this Jeon Jungkook, but definitely not 2,5 minutes after meeting him. His wholly cultivated persona would most definitely not recover from this. 

“We’re… Erm, I mean, my name’s Kim Seokjin, I’m Kook-ah’s step-brother, and owner of Abyss, nice to meet you. Why… How come you’re down here?” wonders the other man, eyebrows burrowed. “We quite appreciate your offer for Jungkook, but it’s not quite known that he works here, and I’m slightly worried you’ve traced him down?” 

Immediately, Namjoon pulls up his hand, shaking his head. 

“Oh god no, we’re not tracing down anyone. Hyung came here a couple of weeks ago and saw a nice promo shelf for Big Hit, we wanted to say thanks? As in, give official thanks, because this guy freaked out and didn’t say anything until like, half-an-hour ago, when it was super sweet of the owner — well, you, I guess? — to do that. We really didn’t expect you to be here”, swears Namjoon as he turns towards Jungkook, brows furrowed down in a concerned expression. “Apologies if we’ve made you uncomfortable. We’ll properly contact you for any further opportunities, of course, we’re hoping this encounter won’t put you off from listening to our proposal. We’re really quite smitten with your work, Jungkook-ssi.”

A small whisper escapes from the lips of the young man, leading Yoongi to believe the guy’s lost all of his brain functions for a couple of seconds, when he suddenly squares up his shoulders and bows at ninety degrees.

“Min Yoongi-ssi, Kim Namjoon-ssi, I’m Jeon Jungkook, it’s an absolute honour to meet you and I’d be delighted to hear more from you. Please take care of me.”

And folks, this is the second moment Min Yoongi realises this store would only bring him to his downfall. The younger boy had to be the cutest bean he’d ever seen, his nose perking up as his big wide eyes looks at them with literal stars in them. He’s asked them to take care of him, as if giving himself to them, and that has got to be the weirdest most awkward sentence he’s heard from a future collaborator, yet all Yoongi can do is hide behind his scarf, again, to not show his absurdly wide smile when confronted to this cute ass boy. Namjoon, however, doesn’t quite bother to hide his endearment, and he laughs freely, showing all his teeth.

“Goddamn Jungkook-ssi, don’t be this formal. We’re glad you’re up for a talk,” he enthuses. Then, glancing at Seokjin, he adds: “So you’re behind the promo shelf? Did you write the post-its, too? Yoongi showed me one, it really touched me, I’d like to thank you properly.”

A tint of red graces the cheeks of the older brother, who shies away, looking behind Namjoon. Yoongi clears his throat, adding with a little smirk:

“Yeah, haven’t been quite honest with your employee last time I came in. People usually don’t realise it’s me when I’m not with Namjoon, considering I’m perform face covered but… you should be finishing my promo week, if my tip off’s right — mind if I go take a look?”

Immediately, Jungkook perks up, eyes lightening up even more if possible, and a wide teasing smile breaks his face in half.

“So you’re the one Chim keeps on talking about!”

Lifting an eyebrow, Yoongi lets the kid guide him inside, talking his head off about how this Chim guy was all enamoured after someone took the time to really watch their promo shelf, and how he’d wished he’d come to one of their event nights, because he was such a cute blushing mess it’d be terrible if he could never see him again. Fair to say, Yoongi ended up just as red when he realised all of what Jungkook was telling him came from the guy he had easily dubbed the prettiest bubblegum angel, and embarrassment was a word not quite strong enough to encapsulate what he felt at the moment. 

“Here’s the shelf!” beams Jungkook, stopping in front of the same space as last time. The area, however, didn’t showcase all of RM’s work, but all of his. Suddenly hesitant, all the more shy, Yoongi stares with a fond face at his old CDs, his very first mixtapes, and some more recent work. He leans forward a little, surprised by the amount of soft yellow post-its on the shelf, and this makes the kid laugh, as if he had realised what Yoongi was thinking. “Yeah, Chim went pretty much all out. You’re literally his favourite. He dances to your tracks almost exclusively by now, you know? It’s almost creepy, sunbaenim.”

“Oh, call me hyung please, none of that sunbaenim shit,” mumbles Yoongi, trying not to focus on the fact that he was the fairy’s all time favourite. And what did he mean by dancing to his tracks?  

Both of their head snap to the right when a beaming pink haired man, smartly dressed, stops by them. His eyes are almost closed, crescent-shaped, because of how deep he’s smiling, and Yoongi swears he feels his soul leave his body, just a little bit, because of how blindingly handsome the man is. A teasing snort escapes Jungkook’s smile, right when the guy says, “Oh you’re back! I’m glad you could make it tonight!” and Yoongi promptly realises the embarrassing night is far from over. The guy, after all, doesn’t know who he is, and that’s going to be a terrible reveal, if he can just guess a little. Working up his lower lips, suddenly anxious, Yoongi tilts his head to the side slightly, daring to give him a tight smile. Confused by this weak reaction, the pinked hair man looks at Jungkook, who, quite literally, shines. Yoongi kind of wants to smack him in the chin, but he guesses it’s not quite a professional behaviour to have against a future employee, even if said employee is already looking like a small asshead. 

“Chimchim, you’ll never believe who you’ve invited tonight.”

“I wasn’t invited”, mumbles Yoongi right as Chim covers up his cheeks, bright red, to shout-whisper “Don’t call me Chimchim you fucker!”. All it does is make Jungkook giggle even more, who side glances at Yoongi before saying, in a single breath:

“My dearest best friend, Park Jimin, you’ve just met, for the second time now, the one and only Min Yoongi, AKA Suga, AKA the best producer this world’s known, AKA my future employer because, I kid you not, I have been offered a very serious, very real and very important proposal talk with Yoongi-hyung and Namjoon-ssi. I’m kind of freaking out, but you’ll be freaking out even more once you realise what I’ve just told you, so that makes it kind of okay, I guess. Cheers?” 

Yeah, really, it was a good idea wanting to recruit Jeon Jungkook into their label. This kid’s got breath. It’ll be fun playing around with his voice and vocal capacities. Hopefully he can manage the same amount of control on his harmonies, huh. Realising he’s getting side-tracked, Yoongi blinks away from Jungkook’s big proud grin to stare at Park Jimin, looking quite lost. He’s gaping at Jungkook, mouth wide, eyes on the brink of exploding, and really, he’s too cute, Yoongi can’t hold it in anymore — he snorts, an ugly full of laughter snort, making Jimin and Jungkook jump a bit. 

“Oh my god, your face, you should see your face.” Calming down slightly, Yoongi breathes in deeply before bowing slightly towards the other man: “I apologise for not introducing myself, last time, I’m quite keen on preserving my anonymity, and I really didn’t expect a whole RM shrine when I entered the shop. It was super sweet, though, honestly — we’re so thankful for your love and loyalty from the very beginning. These are some old ass tapes,” he adds, pointing at the original mixtapes with post-its full of hearts with his thumb.

Jimin, then, honest to god, whimpers, turning to Jungkook with panic-filled eyes, and the grin on his friend’s face turns to a confused grimace. 

“All’s good Chim?

- I can’t believe I explained Big Hit to Big Hit’s owner,” is all Jimin says as his head falls into his tiny hands, covering only half his face.

Yoongi shares a glance with Jungkook, worried by his reaction, and the confusion he sees on the kid’s face is not quite reassuring. Coughing a little, the Daegu rapper whispers:

“It’s really fine, you couldn’t know.”

It does nothing to appease Jimin, however, who turns towards him with a devastated face, wincing:

“I spent all month simping on you, oh my god, I’m the worst person ever, I’m so so sorry Min Yongi-ssi, please don’t penalise Kook-ah for my terrible behaviour.”

Taken aback, Yoongi immediately brings up his hands, trying to calm down the young man.

“I swear, it’s fine, I didn’t introduce myself, and more than anything, I should be the one apologising. Really, thank you for your support, Park Jimin-ssi, it’s deeply appreciated.”

Snorting, Jungkook looks at both of them and drops, not knowing he’d throw them both in a terrible storm of emotions, “God, you’re both blushing messes, it’s a horrible thing to witness.” He turns to Yoongi, then, all smiles: “Hyung, will you be staying for the event, then? Chim’s performing tonight, and I’ve got some slam prepared, it’ll be fun.”

Still eyeing Jimin, who is stubborningly avoiding him, staring right down to their feet, Yoongi shrugs. He’s, admittedly, quite curious to see the man dance, even more so knowing his music is usually his creative outlet. Plus, it’ll give him a chance to see what Jeon’s worth, when on stage, and that’s something his professional self really can’t say no to. Still, he doesn’t want to make it weird for Jimin, who still looks shaken up — he’s done his fair bit of bothering already.

“It’d be my pleasure, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. Surely Park Jimin-ssi would rather I take my leave…?” he suggests, with a small grimace. 

As if bolted by lightning, Jimin startles at this, shaking his head hurriedly.

“Please, do stay, it’s Jungkookie’s biggest dream to perform for you, I wouldn’t dare prevent this. Please don’t expect much from me, though, it’s only a silly dance for tonight’s event, I don’t…

- Stop saying nonsense, Chim, interrupts Jungkook with a glare, turning to Yoongi to add: he works part-time at Cube, he’s a goddamn good dancer, I don’t know why he’s pretending to be shy all of a sudden. You’re in for a treat, hyung, promise.”

Conjuring up his best blank face, Yoongi slowly nods, trying not to seem too eager because, yes, absolutely, of course he believes Jungkook when he says the performance will be a treat — has he seen Park Jimin? There’s no doubt this man has a fantastic body, and Yoongi really cannot wait to see how this bubblegum fairy will shake up his world, once again.

…

It’s fair to say, Yoongi’s pretty shaken. He’s pretty much on the floor, even. Can’t for the life of him comprehend what he’s seen, and how he’s supposed to go on with his everyday life now that he’s experienced this. This, being Park Jimin performing. Not even a grand scale performance, with full on make up, fabulous costumes and perfect lightening, no. A small, intimate showcase in his part-time coffee-shop, for fuck’s sake. And yet, it has been earth-shattering. Yoongi’s reevaluating all of his life’s decisions, at the moment. No, he’s not being dramatic.

Jimin was ethereal. There was no other word to define what he has witnessed. His body control was gasp-inducing, and every movement felt as if a caress softly stroke his soul. There was passion in his steps, ambition in his hips, fierceness in his thighs, and his hands slapped against the ground with the strength of the strongest dancer. Yoongi was mesmerised, from the very first note, the very first step, to the last one, where Jimin’s eyes had found his, and he had shivered so strongly he almost fell down the stool. Goddamn. This man will be the death of him, had thought Yoongi, chills still shaking up his body. 

Even now, hours later, ass sat down on a uncomfortable bench of a cheap bbq restaurant of the neighbouring area, thigh pressed again Jimin on one side, Namjoon’s hand on his shoulders on the other, Yoongi still can’t quite understand what he’s going to do, now. Unsurprisingly, Namjoon had immediately hit it off with Seokjin, and they both decided they all had to grab dinner together, once the event was finished and the tall man had closed the shop. To talk about Jungkook with Seokjin-hyung, had teased Namjoon, when Yoongi knows all he wants to do is talk to Seokjin. To be sure I’m not signing off my baby brother to weirdos, had giggled Jin-hyung, when it is clear as air that the man was rather willing to do anything if he could see more of said weirdos, especially the dumb dimpled one, inferred Yoongi. It’ll be fun, had concluded Jungkook, dragging them all to his favourite bbq joint, a couple of streets away. 

Since then, they have ordered a shit ton of meat, a lot more soju bottles and beers, have introduced themselves a bit less formally, have cackled at poor jokes, both from Seokjin and from Namjoon, have strayed into petty comparisons of ice cream flavours, have even criticised the whole industry for a good thirty minutes, yet Yoongi is completely dazed. He’s not often in awe, yet — yet Park Jimin, Park Jimin rocked his world.

“Earth to Yoongi, Earth to Yoongi?”

Startled, his eyelids flutter for a bit as he slowly comes down, leaving his twirling thoughts. He focuses on the scene before him, Seokjin leaning towards him, smirk on the lips. Bowing slightly his head to apologise, Yoongi muttered a small “Yes, what?”.

“We’ll be leaving now, care to walk Jiminie home? Joon-ah said you were quite close. Is that alright with you, Yoongi?”

Blinking twice, Yoongi schools down his expression, looking sideways at Joon and his shit-eating grin. He almost scowls, almost sighs, but he catches Jimin’s face, cheeks slightly pink from the soju he drank, eyes twinkling, shy smile on his lips, and he knows he’s done for. 

“Yeah, ‘course, no problem.”

It’s cold out, and it’s way too late to grab the subway, so Yoongi knows he’ll have to walk home. He’s not far, a station away, making a point of living near enough the studio he could go home at the crack of dawn by feet if he needed to. He’s had a couple of drinks, but definitely not enough to feel dizzy or completely wrecked, just slightly warmer than he’d usually feel this late in early spring. He doesn’t quite know where Jimin’s at, though, but he’s walking straight, if only a little too close to him. Not that it’s a real problem, acknowledges Yoongi, it’s simply that Jimin, despite the barbecue, despite the soju, despite his dance performance, smells way too good, and Yoongi feels way too creepy for noticing this. It’s overwhelming, however, and it’s all he can focus on. In the midst of the flowers starting to bloom, as they prepare for the early morning dew, Jimin’s honey scent is the strongest, almost mind-dizzying. He wants to hold him close, nuzzle his nose in his neck, breathe in his perfume and, perhaps, if he wills, let his lips linger softly against his skin. Blinking hard, Yoongi breathes in deeply as he turns his eyes away from Jimin, walking a step behind, cheeks red as rosé. 

“You doing okay, Jimin-ah ?” he whispers, turning slightly towards him, a couple of minutes later, when no words still have been exchanged.

They’ve almost reached their street, now, and the silence is still heavy between them two. Yoongi’s sure Jimin must feel weird, considering the awkward situation from before, and he’s not quite positive the dinner has helped enough to ease him up, knowing how deep in his thoughts he has been. Not exactly talkative, hence perhaps not as interesting as the younger might have thought. He sighs, when Jimin simply makes a weird noise from the throat to say all’s good, and keeps his eyes straight to the front. They walk some more, as silence wraps around them, cozying up against their skins. Yoongi slowed down slightly, letting Jimin catch up with him, and if their knuckles brush against one another, well, no one’s going to tell.

“That’s me,” whispers the pink haired dancer all of a sudden, breaking the silence, slightly startling Yoongi. 

They’ve stopped walking, then, as the producer glances at the building behind him, where Jimin lives. They really are neighbours, huh, he realises, as his own flat is but a couple of blocks down the street. He turns towards the younger, lifting his brow slightly, whispering back:

“Will you be okay going up?”

Flushed, Jimin nods and goes to bow his thanks — Yoongi stops him immediately, bringing a hand to his chest to stop his movement.

“Please, don’t be so formal. We’ll be seeing each others quite often, I believe, Joon-ah seemed quite smitten with Jin-hyung. You can be more comfortable around me, you know?” And, tilting his head on the side slightly, lips pouting a little, Yoongi sighs: “I know I’m not quite up to people’s expectations, but I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Seemingly startled, Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand in his, detaching it from his chest, to squeeze it slightly.

“You’re being silly, Yoongi-hyung. You’re nothing short of extraordinary, I’m just… slightly overwhelmed, not uncomfortable at all. Please don’t misunderstand.”

Yoongi stares for a while, his eyes studying the shy and pinkish face of the dancer, before dropping down to stare at their tangled fingers. Unconsciously, his thumb strokes Jimin’s hand as he says:

“I’m glad you’re not, Jimin-ah. You’re quite extraordinary yourself, did you know?”

A surprised giggle escapes from Jimin’s lips and — oh, thinks Yoongi. There it is again. He’s doomed, so, so doomed. This man, this exquisite person, is not only terribly talented, absurdly pretty, overwhelmingly sweet, but also has the cutest giggle Yoongi has ever heard and, that’s just too much, really, a man can’t survive it all. His fingers squeeze his hand a bit tighter, then, as he shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “the things you do to me, Park Jimin”.

Taking a step forward, Yoongi’s fingers hitting once again against Jimin’s chest, the dancer looks up at the producer, lips slightly parted, eyes still shining. 

“Do you really find me extraordinary, hyung?” 

A low laugh slips away from his lips, as he shakes his head once more, completely enraptured by the bubblegum fairy facing him.

“You’re a menace, Park Jimin, don’t you realise? You’re… God, you’re absolutely striking. Have you been told how ethereal you are, when you dance? I couldn’t get my eyes off you, I swear. And you’ve got the tiniest, fluffiest giggle I’ve heard, it’s ridiculous how fond of it I am. It’s been only hours since we’ve met, for god’s sake, and I already want you all.” Taking a shaky breath, Yoongi looks up, eyes catching Jimin’s. His fingers are tight against the dancer’s, and he softens his grasp slightly, afraid of hurting him. “I might still be Suga, in your eyes — but could you give Min Yoongi a chance? One date, for me to catch your breath the way you’ve caught mine?”

And Jimin giggles, he giggles once more, he giggles so light and bright, Yoongi falls, falls falls.

…

He’s not quite sure how it happened, when he got this lucky, but Park Jimin, the bubblegum fairy, is on his couch, fingers wrapped around a glass of red wine, and his eyes never leaving his. They’ve been on three dates, already, sometime between the crazy schedules Big Hit is going through, at the moment, and Yoongi finally invited him home, for some home made dinner. He hadn’t cooked for anyone else in ages, to be honest, and he had been quite positive he’d flunk it all, but the lasagna had been absolutely delicious, the paired red wine delightful, and Jimin’s never ending laughter, all throughout the meal, had brought the evening up to his top 3 dates, no doubt. They’re pressed against each other, now, thighs brushing, elbows grazing, eyes catching one another with a heavy stare.

Jimin’s beautiful, as always, a flow-y white shirt tucked in tight black pants, a Gucci belt around his waist, tempting rings on his fingers, and Yoongi’s suffering from how tantalising he looks. He’s done himself up, as well, smartly dressed in all black, a slick look that had him devoured by Jimin’s glaze. Yet, they’ve not touched each other, their stares heavy enough. It’s too early, perhaps. Maybe he has to give it more time, to make sure Jimin likes him, Min Yoongi, and not whatever picture he had of Suga in his mind. Maybe he has to give himself more time, too, to be certain Jimin is not weirdly idealised in his own head, because of how charmed he was, that first night. Yet, he knows it’s silly. He knows his heart is already beating hard enough for this gentle man, beside him, he knows he’s gotten him on the floor, he knows it’ll come, soon, that love word that frightened him so, years ago.

Yoongi’s only 28, he’s lost in his own head, dreams seemingly so far away, so far behind, he doesn’t quite know, yet he knows, he knows Jimin’s touch will grace him, he knows his heart will fall, fall, fall. How could he not?

When they touch, finally, the shivers run down his spine, make him tremble whole. Jimin’s fingers wrap around his neck, catch his hair, play with rebellious strands, as he brings him forward, brushing his lips to Yoongi’s. It’s soft, and sweet, and it aches, for he trembles so. A whine, almost, breaks free from his throat as he gets closer to him, pressing his chest against Jimin, sliding his hands up his chest, around his shoulders, his lips playing with his, toying with it. His tooth scrapes his upper lip, making Jimin shiver, their mouths opening up, tongue sliding against the other, a forceful battle where none wants to let go, each wants to reign, to claim the strongest affection. Yoongi succumbs first, moaning against Jimin, rocking his body against him, letting the dancer control the pace. They’re out of breath, hardly controlling their respiration as their fingers slide up and down their body, losing themselves just as much. 

Jimin’s fingers tighten against Yoongi’s hips, pulling him towards him, as the oldest struggles to climb on his lap while never letting go of his lips, moaning against his open mouth. It’s good, so warm, he feels dizzy, almost, with how much he wants, how hot it is. He knows Jimin’s fingers are everywhere, sliding up his back, touching his skin, scratching his waist, pushing him against him, as his lips leave his own to find his neck, to linger against his collarbone, before sucking red patches down his chest, making Yoongi whimper, arch up, tremble under his mouth. Jimin could eat him whole, and he’d go down willingly, would open himself up for him, as long as he keeps on touching him endlessly, just as reverently as he does now, gasping against his skin. 

Things get more hurried, as clothes fall on the floor, hips rocking harder, gasps getting heavier, and Yoongi moans loudly when the short fingers palm against his length. He keeps his eyes open, capturing it all, the way Jimin’s lid goes hoody, his pupils getting so dark, so dilated, Yoongi can see himself in them. He witnesses himself coming undone, his cheeks flushing red, his eyes shining with lust, his lips parting, pants slipping out of his mouth. He sees what Jimin looks at, and it makes him warmer, makes him moan harder, jerking up when the fingers finally curl around him, up and down, thumb against his slit, making him bite his lips down to keep on his cries from falling out. He touches him, too, just as reverently, hands against his nipples, twisting them, making him cry out, teeth grazing against the skin of his collarbones, marking his love on his tanned flesh, his long fingers going quicker than him, rushing slightly, wanting to make him go crazy. And he does, he goes crazy, arching up, his hips rutting against Yoongi’s, lengths sliding against the other, fingers catching up, as their foreheads fall on each other, lips parting up in open mouthed kisses, swallowing down heavy moans and heavier pants. 

Everything stills, then, as they’re tainted white, gasping against the other, sobs falling out of their mouths. Jimin kisses him softly, then, kisses his lips, his cheeks, his nose, pours endless amount of like on his skin, as their breaths calm down, as their high becomes low, yet Yoongi trembles still, for love is more thrilling than ecstasy.

…

It’s months later, and Jimin’s hair are no pink no more. They’re tainted lavender, and Yoongi’s sure, this time, that he can’t fall anymore in love with this man. Jimin’ll prove him wrong, of course, when he does the first choreography for Jungkook, and Yoongi realises all over again how talented their new recruits are. Jimin’ll prove him wrong, again, when he comes home, one day, all bleak and blue, because music ran away from him all day, to a warm bubble bath with a lover in sight. Jimin’ll prove him wrong some more, when he’ll kiss him, at the end of a long day, at the beginning of a fun one, in the middle of a busy one, at every moment he got, to make him remember just how loved he his. Jimin’ll prove him wrong and will show him, of course, that being 28’s okay, that no more dreams is fine, because he’s got his bubblegum fairy, though pink no more.

And Yoongi falls, falls, falls, because Jimin’ll always be there to catch him, anyway.