Chapter Text
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If Yoongi doesn’t look, he can pretend it isn’t happening.
If Yoongi keeps his gaze fixed on the table, he can ignore everything else. There’s a ring of condensation where his beer bottle was. He stares at the wet spot, eyes going a little blurry as he forces himself not to tear his gaze away.
This is safe. Conversation flows around him and Yoongi grunts and hums in acknowledgement when it feels appropriate, but he’s not really listening. Because he needs to focus to keep himself from looking.
The giggle makes him look up.
He should have been prepared, he’s been hearing the giggling all night. On the edges of the conversation, tickling his ear every few minutes. So he should be used to it and he shouldn’t have looked up. But this one is louder, brighter.
And Yoongi is, unfortunately, not immune to that beautiful sound.
It feels like it happens in slow motion. Yoongi’s eyes peel away from the tabletop and drift higher. Latching onto, focusing on – stuck on them.
He can’t help it really, how his eyes have been continuously straying to them despite his best efforts. Can he really be blamed?
Swallowing hard, Yoongi relents and lets himself look.
Jimin and Taehyung are curled together in a corner of the booth, Jimin practically on Taehyung’s lap. They’re giggling together, foreheads touching as they take sips from the same bright pink drink. Between sips from their tiny straw, they share kisses. Soft, sweet things that make both of them smile, giggle more. Their eyes sparkle in the light and their lips are strawberry dark and –
And there’s an ache in Yoongi’s chest. Something throbbing and pulsing that squirms as Jimin nuzzles their noses together. A living thing inside Yoongi’s rib cage that stretches and yawns and opens wide eyes, hissing about jealousy and want.
But Yoongi can’t tear his gaze away now, not when their lips connect again. No matter how creepy he feels for staring, he can’t seem to stop himself.
“Yoon? Yoongi!”
Fuck.
Yoongi snaps his head to the side at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, neck aching from how quickly he moved. “What?”
Jungkook blinks at him, surprised by Yoongi’s sudden reaction. When he glances past Jungkook’s shoulder, Yoongi can see Hoseok and Seokjin watching him with smug, knowing looks on their faces. He scowls at them and refocuses on Jungkook.
“Sorry, Kook. Did you say something?”
“Um.” Jungkook studies him a moment before continuing. “Namjoon is going to get drinks, I was trying to ask if you wanted another drink?”
Yoongi glances to the side, finding Namjoon hovering awkwardly beside the table. He’s giving Yoongi an unreadable look, but Yoongi can see the amusement in his eyes. Blinking, Yoongi looks down at his hand, where his beer bottle is still clutched in his fingers. Empty.
“Sure.” He turns to Namjoon. “Just another beer, thanks.”
When Namjoon walks away, Jungkook leans closer into Yoongi’s space. “Are you okay?”
Yoongi leans back a little, nearly cross eyed from trying to keep his eyes on Jungkook. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”
“I had to say your name, like, six times before you answered me.”
Oops.
“Sorry,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Was lost in thought I guess.”
On Jungkook’s other side, Seokjin snorts. Yoongi ignores him.
“Oh? What about?” Jungkook prompts. He’s smiling, eyes wide and innocent and Yoongi flounders for a moment.
“Just, uh, work, you know. I’ve got a deadline.”
Seokjin snorts again, louder this time.
Frowning, Yoongi looks at Seokjin. “Do you need a tissue, Seokjin?”
“Oh he’s fine,” Hoseok chimes in, giving Yoongi a smile that could probably be considered more of a leer. “Just heard a funny joke.”
Yoongi is very aware that the joke is probably him.
“What’s the project now?” Jungkook asks, unbothered by Seokjin and Hoseok.
Looking back at Jungkook, Yoongi racks his mind. What is his new project? “Some new pop punk album,” he says finally. He can’t even remember the name. “Newer band, debut album.”
“That’s so cool,” Jungkook breathes, practically wiggling on the bench. “You’re so cool.”
Yoongi smiles indulgently. “I’m not that cool, Jungkook. It’s not like I’m interviewing bands or anything.”
He used to do that, found it exhausting to be on all the time. Yoongi is past that stage of his life and much happier to hunch over his desk in his home office. Music reviews are much more his style. Albums and EPs and, on very rare occasions, a concert review. It keeps him busy, pays well, and has earned him a decent amount of hate on Twitter when people don’t like his opinions. Yoongi finds that aspect entertaining enough to not look for anything else.
“I think you’re cool,” Jungkook declares. “Way cooler than Joonie.”
“Hey!” Namjoon cuts in, having returned with a tray of beers. “Geology is an extremely engaging field, Jungkook!”
“He doesn’t even study something cool like volcanoes,” Jungkook stage whispers to a grinning Yoongi.
Namjoon snorts, setting beers in front of each of them. “Maybe you should just date Yoongi then, if he’s so cool.”
“That wouldn’t work,” Seokjin chimes in.
“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees. “Yoongi already has a big fat crush.” A pause. “Or two.”
Yoongi glowers at them until they look away, giggling. Jungkook looks politely puzzled before finally turning to his boyfriend.
“You’re my favorite, Joonie. Just, you know, rocks aren’t as cool as rock.”
“Poetic,” Namjoon sniffs. “You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Jungkook springs out of his seat, whining as he attaches himself to Namjoon’s arm. Yoongi picks up his new beer and glances to the side. Hoseok and Seokjin seem content to leave him alone so Yoongi can go back to what he’s good at. Staring at the tabletop and waiting until it’s socially acceptable to leave.
His beer bottle is halfway to his mouth when a hand lands on his arm. He turns just in time for Jimin to plop into the booth next to him, draping himself over Yoongi’s shoulders and nuzzling into his neck. Beer sloshes down Yoongi’s shirt as he tries to keep himself together. Jimin is so warm against him, his lips brushing Yoongi’s skin, smile evident against his neck. Yoongi stiffens, he can’t help it, feeling suddenly trapped.
“Yoonie,” Jimin purrs, breath dancing across Yoongi’s skin. He fights down a shiver. “Come dance with us.”
The contact feels so nice and he – he can’t have this. He tries to shake Jimin off, shrugging his shoulders and squirming. It only makes Jimin tighten his hold, chest pressed flush to Yoongi’s side. He can feel the beat of Jimin’s heart against his arm, or maybe that’s his own frantically pounding pulse.
“Jimin, I don’t think –”
Yoongi cuts off when a hand closes around his other arm. The beer bottle is plucked from his fingers and Taehyung is there, grinning and tugging at him. “Come dance.” His grin shifts to a pout, puppy eyes on display. “Please?”
And Yoongi is a very, very weak man. Everyone knows he can’t resist Jimin or Taehyung, and especially not the two of them at once. He relents, allowing himself to be pulled from the booth. He’s sandwiched between them, Taehyung with an arm around his shoulders, Jimin latched to his arm, as they manhandle him toward the dance floor. Yoongi tries not to shudder when Jimin presses a wet kiss to his cheek.
⋯
It’s hard to relax, hard for Yoongi to let himself go. He likes to dance well enough, though he doesn’t do it very often. He’s trying, slowly unwinding as he moves to the beat. But this – this is…
Jimin and Taehyung are caging him in, Taehyung against his back and Jimin plastered to his front. Yoongi feels engulfed between them, so close that Yoongi can hardly breathe.
And they're touching him. This isn’t anything new, they’re always touchy. But it feels like hands are everywhere. Taehyung’s wide palm splayed across his belly, dragging up his thigh. Jimin’s hands on his cheeks, on his neck, trailing down his arms. It feels like forty hands instead of four, fingertips dragging over any sliver of bare skin to make him shiver.
Jimin and Taehyung are always tactile with their friend group, and even Yoongi can admit this, even more so with him. But Yoongi is sure it’s just because they know it flusters him, makes him blush. They love to tease, to giggle and tickle and make Yoongi want to scream. If they knew how he really felt, he’s sure they’d never touch him again. Not like this.
But it doesn’t matter how Yoongi feels. Not when Jimin and Taehyung are together.
So Yoongi shoves those thoughts from his mind and allows himself to melt a little. Just for tonight, he’ll let himself have fun, lean into it, into them and dance.
Everything is close and hot and Jimin is leaning their foreheads together, smiling wickedly as he trails fingertips down Yoongi’s neck. And Taehyung is against him, hands holding Yoongi close by his hips, nose buried in his hair. Yoongi savors the moment, lets himself get carried along.
For now, right now, he’ll take what he can get.
⋯
Yoongi wakes with a start, nearly tumbling off the bed onto the floor – no, not bed. Couch. He blinks his eyes open, staring up at a familiar ceiling. Turning his head, he takes in the living room, light yellow walls, bright blue chair a few feet away.
This is not Yoongi’s apartment.
He doesn’t remember going home with Jimin and Taehyung, not really. Though it’s not really that surprising. Their apartment is closer to the bar than Yoongi’s is, so that’s a logical explanation.
Though... he has some vague, hazy memories of Jimin and Taehyung clinging to him as they walked along the sidewalk. A face buried in his neck, puppy eyes as he tried to break away at the entrance to the building. And then tugged inside, up the elevator, squished between them as Taehyung rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, Jimin smiling and clinging to his front.
Couldn’t say no, never could, not to them. Until they had tried to drag him to bed. Hands on his arms, on his waist, goading, pleading.
The bed is so much comfier. It’s big. We can cuddle. Come on, come on, come on.
But Yoongi had extricated himself, finding some last vestige of self-preservation. And they let him go, allowing him to curl up on the couch still fully dressed. He remembers Jimin’s warm fingers smoothing his hair from his forehead, Taehyung’s lips on his cheek, a blanket draped over him, and then sleep.
So tender, so kind. Too much.
Much more than Yoongi deserves.
Groaning, Yoongi forces himself to sit up. He feels rumpled and wrung out, the room spinning a little as he rights himself. Rubbing his face, Yoongi tries to clear the blurriness from his vision.
He’s hungover. A vague memory of shots has the hangover making sense.
Swinging his legs off the couch, Yoongi stares down at his wrinkled jeans. Uncomfortable, too tight to sleep in. He could have borrowed something or taken them off but… that didn’t feel entirely safe.
It takes him a couple minutes to fully orient himself, and then Yoongi stands on wobbly legs. He makes his way to the kitchen and clicks on the coffee maker. Nearly as at home here, in this kitchen, as the one at his own apartment. Barely needs to think when he pulls out three mugs, the little container of sugar shaped like a bear, a bottle of maple syrup from the cabinet over the microwave. Jimin puts sugar in his coffee, Taehyung puts maple syrup. He knows this without thinking about it.
He doesn’t let himself think about it, how at home it feels, how easy it is to move around the small space.
Yoongi moves to the fridge and pulls it open, frowning when he looks at the meagerly stocked interior. Half a carton of eggs, a six pack of beer, something that might be ham, wilted veggies and far too many takeout containers. He’ll need to buy them groceries soon, make sure they have enough.
Jimin and Taehyung are twenty-five. They are fully grown adults with college degrees and jobs and a reasonably nice apartment downtown. Fully grown adults who are easily able to take care of themselves. At least, theoretically.
In reality, they eat way too much takeout and instant ramen. Yoongi is honestly concerned about their sodium intake, no one can survive on that much prepackaged food. So Yoongi will buy them groceries and he will bring them over and spend a few hours in the kitchen.
Yoongi will cook them meals - healthy, balanced meals - and neatly box and stack them in the fridge. Jimin and Taehyung will hover around him, stealing bites of cut veggies and sizzling meat and clinging to his arms. They will back hug him and tug at him until Yoongi’s ears are pink and they can ply him with a few beers to stay for a movie. Cuddle together on the couch, wrapping around him like boa constrictors while Yoongi sweats between them.
A routine he is used to, especially with how hopeless they both are in the kitchen. Hoseok calls it learned helplessness and Seokjin calls it weaponized incompetence and Yoongi tells them to shut the fuck up.
Because Yoongi knows how much they like to be spoiled and doted on. Taken care of, especially by Yoongi. And, well, Yoongi likes it just as much. He likes to care for them and likes their affection in return, his own spoiling. So maybe it’s selfish that he does this, not as selfless as he pretends.
Ducking back into the fridge, Yoongi digs behind the takeout containers until he finds a few usable ingredients. Withdrawing the eggs and a handful of other things, he sets them on the counter and begins making breakfast.
The coffee pot bubbles beside him and he hums softly to himself, relaxing into the familiar pattern of chopping and frying. It’s peaceful, quiet with Jimin and Taehyung still asleep. In moments like this he can pretend that it’s not Jimin and Taehyung, with Yoongi on the side. He can pretend, maybe, secretly, that it’s –
Yoongi jumps, nearly burning himself in his haste to turn, when a shriek sounds through the apartment. He stands frozen as he hears loud voices. Jimin is yelling and then Taehyung shouts, the two of them talking over each other. Yoongi can’t tell if they’re angry or excited or… oh god, what if they’re about to have sex?
Maybe they forgot he’s here and…
There’s no way he could handle that.
He should go see, maybe. Not see if they’re having sex, obviously. Fuck. But maybe he should go see if everything is okay, make sure they’re not injured. He glances back at the stove, at the half cooked eggs. Maybe he should just leave.
But he doesn’t have time to dwell on any of that, not when he hears their bedroom door open a moment later. A crash as it’s practically thrown open, hitting the wall. And then Jimin and Taehyung appear in the entryway to the kitchen, grinning wide and bright.
They’re barely dressed. Taehyung in boxers and a t-shirt and Jimin in just a pair of briefs. Yoongi tries not to stare at their legs, or Jimin’s chest, or… them in general. So much skin on display, Yoongi’s mouth wants to water and he forces himself to keep his eyes up because did he know Jimin has pierced nipples?
He doesn’t think he knew that. He wishes he still didn’t.
Swallowing hard, Yoongi averts his eyes, staring at a spot over Jimin’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?” Yoongi croaks.
There’s no immediate answer, just smiles. Taehyung slips behind him, attaching himself to Yoongi’s back. He presses flush against him, burying his face in Yoongi’s neck as his hands slide across Yoongi’s waist, over his belly. Fingertips gentle but pressing almost possessively.
“Smells good,” Taehyung rumbles, voice low from sleep. The sound vibrates through Yoongi’s body and he barely suppresses a shiver.
Jimin approaches next, leaning into his side, his bare chest against Yoongi’s arm. As he shifts, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s jaw, Yoongi can feel the cool metal of the barbell through one nipple against his arm.
He isn’t able to suppress this shiver.
Especially not when Jimin’s lips are nearly on his ear, tickling breath over his neck. So sensitive, has he always been so sensitive? “Smells so good,” Jimin agrees. His voice is a purr, low and sweet. “You always spoil us.”
Clearing his throat, Yoongi shifts, trying to worm his way out of their grip. “Can you get plates?”
They unwind slowly, not without Jimin pressing another kiss to his cheek, and move to do as he asked. When they sit down a few minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung smile and thank him for breakfast, both nudging him with their feet beneath the table.
Yoongi is sure his cheeks are bright red. Swallowing a mouthful of eggs he barely tastes, Yoongi tries again. “Is everything okay?”
“Hm?” Jimin prompts, blinking innocently.
“I heard…” Yoongi trails off, not sure how to describe it. And not wanting to seem like he was listening to them.
“Oh!” Taehyung grins and nods. “Yeah!”
Jimin nods along. “We got tickets!”
“Tickets?” Yoongi echoes, confused,
Taehyung rolls his eyes, as if Yoongi is being purposefully dense. “For the festival.”
“What festival?” Yoongi feels like he’s missing half the conversation.
“Yoonie,” Jimin giggles, “you’re so silly. The festival!”
And then it clicks.
The two of them have been talking about a music festival they’ve been wanting to go to for months. Raving about the headliners, the lineup, lamenting ticket prices. A punk and alternative music festival a few states away, a few hours’ drive for a long weekend of music. Music that even Yoongi will admit is a good lineup but… the tickets are insanely expensive.
Jimin and Taehyung have talked about it in terms of reliving their youth. They’re still twenty-five, they’re not old. Neither is Yoongi at twenty-eight, thank you very much.
But Yoongi gets it. That was his scene too, when he was younger and, objectively, cooler. He used to follow Warped Tour all summer, spend his weekends at seedy venues seeing local bands, bigger names. He was at every show, lived and breathed the music and the scene and the lifestyle. So he understands the allure, can recognize what would draw them in. The pull of nostalgia is strong.
“I thought the prices were too high?” Yoongi says eventually. Jimin and Taehyung had ranted about it multiple times, annoyed by the high prices and camping fees and decided they couldn’t justify the cost.
Yoongi had, in a moment of weakness, almost, almost, bought them tickets. But he figured, knew, it would be too much.
“Well,” Taehyung says, “we were pretty drunk last night.”
“Uh huh,” Yoongi agrees.
Jimin giggles and nods. “So, uh, we figure we must have bought them last night when we couldn’t talk each other out of it?”
“And that’s – that’s okay? I mean, the tickets are expensive.”
“Oh Yoonie,” Jimin coos. “You’re so sweet, worrying about us.” His hand finds Yoongi’s knee and squeezes.
Yoongi has to hold himself back from kicking out of reflex, or leaping from his chair.
“We’ll be fine,” Taehyung agrees. “Plus, we’re really excited.” He grins. “We haven’t been to a show in forever, and we’ve never been to a festival! This is going to be awesome!”
“So awesome!” Jimin chimes in.
Yoongi watches them awkwardly, watches them bask in their excitement. He only feels a little pained, stomach souring, when they share an excited, smiling kiss right in front of him.
⋯
Huffing out a ragged breath, Yoongi crests the landing on the fourth floor of the building and pauses, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. They should stop holding game night at Namjoon and Jungkook’s apartment if their elevator isn’t fixed soon. Yoongi doesn’t need to have a heart attack before he hits thirty.
Readjusting the case of beer under his arm, Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and heads down the hall. When he stops outside the apartment, he hears raised voices through the door. This is not altogether strange, competition on game night can get pretty fierce. But Yoongi is only a little bit late, not nearly enough time for Seokjin and Jungkook to come to blows.
With a frown, Yoongi lifts his hand and knocks on the door. The voices immediately fall silent. A few moments later, Namjoon opens the door, frowning unhappily.
“Did Jungkook break the PlayStation again?” Yoongi asks, confused by Namjoon’s dour expression.
“No,” Namjoon says shortly. “We – you know what, just come in. It’s easier to just… just come in.”
Confused, Yoongi steps into the apartment. Toeing off his sneakers, Yoongi tries to pass his case of beer to Namjoon.
“You’ll need them,” Namjoon says, shaking his head.
Well, that’s not ominous at all. “What is going on?” Yoongi hisses, not entirely sure why he’s practically whispering.
Jerking his head down the hall, Namjoon turns and starts walking, Yoongi following behind him. “We’re having –”
“An intervention?” Yoongi interrupts, freezing on the threshold between the living room and entry hallway. “What the fuck?”
The living room is not set up as it normally is for game night. The bean bag chairs and pillows that usually cover the floor are missing. Instead, Namjoon and Jungkook’s chairs are arranged in a semi-circle in front of the couch. All of Yoongi’s friends are in the chairs, leaving one unoccupied for him.
All of them except for Jimin and Taehyung, who are sitting on the couch looking furious.
“Yoongi!” Taehyung says when he spots him. “Tell them to leave us alone!”
“Yeah,” Jimin chimes in, pouting dramatically. “They’re being mean!”
Nonplussed, Yoongi continues to hover on the edge of the room. He could leave. He could turn around or even just walk backwards and step out the door. Then he could go home and drink this entire case of beer by himself and never have to know what the fuck is going on.
“Come sit,” Hoseok says, patting the seat of the chair beside him. “We need another level head.”
Yoongi feels like his head is anything but level right now. But he relents, shuffling across the floor in his socks to sink into his chair. He sets the case of beer by his feet and rips open the cardboard, pulling out a can and cracking the top. He takes a long sip and lowers the can, freezing when he sees everyone watching him.
“What?”
A beat of silence passes around the room and then Jimin speaks again. “Yoongi, tell them to stop being mean to us! We’re adults.”
“Uh…” Yoongi glances around. When he looks at Jimin he’s met with pouty lips and wide, pleading eyes. Fuck. “Can someone explain what’s going on?”
“Yes,” Namjoon says from Yoongi’s other side. “This is, as you’ve guessed, an intervention. Jimin and Taehyung can’t go to that music festival.”
“Yes we can!” Taehyung responds, voice angry. “I’m not sure why you think you get to dictate this, but we’ve already bought tickets.”
Namjoon clicks his tongue in annoyance. “If you go to this music festival, we are all afraid, for good reason, that you will not come back alive, or at least unscathed.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Jimin huffs. “We’re adults, we can handle ourselves. We make rational decisions and take care of ourselves.”
“You bought the tickets while drunk,” Jungkook chimes in, earning a glare from Jimin.
“And can you take care of yourselves?” Seokjin adds. “Yoongi buys your groceries and cooks for you, neither of you can drive, and Taehyung’s mom still makes his dentist appointments.”
Jimin and Taehyung scowl. “None of those are good reasons,” Taehyung huffs. “We can drive, we just don’t like to. And I hate the dentist.”
“And Yoongi is a better cook than we are!” Jimin says. “He takes care of us because he loves us.”
Yoongi takes a very large sip from his can of beer, swallowing half the liquid in one go. He wonders if it’s too late to escape.
“You’ve also gotten a ton of tattoos and piercings when you’re drunk,” Jungkook says, pointing at Jimin. “Who’s to say you won’t come back with a face tattoo?”
“I wouldn’t get a face tattoo,” Jimin huffs.
Taehyung nods sagely. “Definitely not. But an ass tattoo…”
Sighing loudly, Namjoon waves a hand. “You’re derailing the conversation. We’re just worried about you.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees. “Remember that time we went to Denver? Taehyung got high and got lost in the city. We couldn’t find him for hours!”
“You could come back with missing or broken limbs,” Seokjin says. “Or just disappear into the wilderness never to be seen again!”
Yoongi thinks everyone is laying it on a little thick. There’s no way Jimin and Taehyung are as irresponsible as everyone is claiming. Sure, they’re flighty and a little immature, sure they get up to a lot of mischief… But they’re smart and kind and they can be mature when they need to.
Like when Yoongi had the flu a few months ago. Jimin and Taehyung had shown up unannounced and made some not altogether horrible rice porridge in his kitchen. They stayed for two days, giving him medicine and juice and cuddling him to help sweat the fever out. It was, despite the illness, bliss. Yoongi felt so cared for and loved, he was almost sad to get better and see them go.
So while Jimin and Taehyung may not always excel at self-preservation or making good choices, they aren’t entirely hopeless.
Conversation continues around him while Yoongi drinks his beer. He doesn’t really listen, everyone is talking over each other anyway and he’s too annoyed by this entire situation to pick out everyone’s parts. It’s especially annoying that he wasn’t warned. Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jungkook all knew what they were walking into tonight. But why was Yoongi left in the dark?
Probably because his friends know he would have warned Jimin and Taehyung. Shit. He drains the rest of his beer and reaches for another can.
Yoongi’s halfway through his third beer before the argument comes to a boiling point.
“Listen!” Jimin’s voice cuts through the dull roar of sound and everyone stops, turning to stare at him. “If you’re this concerned,” Jimin huffs, “we actually bought a third ticket.” A pause. “Accidentally. So one of you can come with us.”
“Like a chaperone?” Namjoon asks, leaning forward.
Taehyung shrugs. “We’re twenty-five not fifteen, but sure.”
“There’s no way I’m going to a music festival,” Seokjin declares. “Especially not a punk one. I went to a show with Yoongi once and it was terrifying.”
“Me neither,” Hoseok agrees. “They’re too loud and scary.”
“Carly Rae Jepsen is going to be at this one,” Jimin says.
Hoseok gasps in excitement. “What? Really?”
“Carly Rae Jepsen is not alternative music,” Yoongi huffs.
“You take that back,” Jimin snaps. “Carly Rae is very punk rock.”
On Namjoon’s other side, Jungkook perks up. “I’ll go!”
“Absolutely not,” Namjoon says immediately. “You would just make it worse, and I’m not losing you in the wilderness either.”
“Aww,” Jungkook coos, “you love me.”
Ignoring him, Namjoon continues. “Anyway, I can’t go either. I have a conference that weekend.” A beat of silence and then Namjoon is turning in his chair, facing Yoongi.
The look on his face makes Yoongi want to squirm. He clutches his beer can tighter, licking his lips. “Why are you looking at me?”
“It has to be you,” Namjoon says.
Yoongi blinks. “What?”
Before Namjoon can respond, a whine from the other side of the room hits Yoongi’s ears. He turns, only to be met with the full force of a double pout. Two sets of pouty lips, two sets of puppy dog eyes. Jimin and Taehyung out for blood.
Fuck.
“Come with us, Yoonie?” Jimin asks, lower lip fucking trembling.
He fights the instinct to give in to whatever they want. “I don’t do festivals anymore,” he says instead. “I’m tired and they’re not my thing. I can’t.”
That used to be his thing. His big thing. Days under the scorching sun, nights in a tent, drinks and weed and screaming along until he thought his throat would bleed. Enough for a lifetime, years ago. Yoongi has done his time in pits and stage rushes. He is older now, maybe wiser, and he doesn’t need to take an elbow to the face or solar plexus. Or stand for hours on end.
The pleading starts in earnest, Jimin and Taehyung leaning toward him, whining. And the rest of his friends chime in, talk about how great of an idea this is, how it makes sense. Yoongi sits there, buffeted by all of them, barely able to hear what they’re saying. It all mixes together in his brain and he realizes that there’s no way out. He either goes, or they go alone.
Honestly, Yoongi thinks they’ll be mostly fine if they go alone. Dehydrated and sunburned for sure, maybe a little bruised up. But they can fend for themselves. Although… they may get tied up in the smaller details and Yoongi could help organize and make sure they have everything they need and - he can’t believe he’s really considering this.
He sighs, shaking his head. “I feel like Frodo.”
“Nerd,” Jungkook snorts.
“Alright,” Yoongi says, draining the rest of his now warm beer. “I’ll go.”
He barely has time to brace himself before Jimin and Taehyung are launching themselves at him. They leap from the couch to throw themselves at the chair, wrapping around him.
“We’re going to have so much fun!” Taehyung crows, as the two of them pepper Yoongi’s face with kisses.
Yoongi feels like he’s already in over his head.
⋯
“I can’t do this,” Yoongi says.
The only accompanying answer is a derisive snort and he groans, flailing his limbs on the rug. He’s flat on his back on the floor of Hoseok and Seokjin’s living room, staring up at the ceiling as he regrets every decision he has ever made in his life. And especially the one he made yesterday.
“I can’t do this,” he repeats. “I can’t just go and act normal. I’m going to be with them in close quarters for an entire long weekend.”
Normally, Yoongi would keep all of these feelings to himself. He’d stew in them over a couple of beers on his couch and then take a cold shower and go to bed. Yoongi wouldn’t share any of this. Because it’s embarrassing and maybe a little pathetic.
But he’s not going to pretend that his friends don’t all know. Hoseok and Seokjin have known the whole devastatingly long time, Namjoon has known for a few years and Jungkook - well, Jungkook might not know. Yoongi honestly can’t tell if his puzzlement is feigned or not.
Hoseok and Seokjin, though, they’ve always known. They’ve known and they push. Sometimes they think it’s funny, to tease and poke a little fun. But they know when to back off the teasing. What they don’t know is when to stop pushing.
There’s mixed feelings all around. Both of them think that Yoongi should try dating other people. Get on some apps, accept a blind date, just meet someone. Maybe he’ll like them, maybe it will help him get over Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s tried it, gone on a few dates, had a boyfriend for a while, but they didn't work out. They’re not enough. Or maybe Yoongi isn’t enough.
When there’s not a push for Yoongi to get over it, there’s another push. And Yoongi thinks this one is worse, and ludicrous. A push for Yoongi to tell them how he feels.
The last thing Yoongi wants is to jeopardize his relationship with Jimin and Taehyung, or their relationship with each other. As much as he wants to be part of it, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for driving a wedge between them. And he doesn’t want to lose them. If all he can have is friendship, he’ll take it.
Maybe he will get over them eventually. Maybe.
“You should think of this as an opportunity,” Hoseok says gently.
Yoongi just scowls at the ceiling, not dignifying his statement with a response.
“Honestly,” Seokjin begins, much less gently, “you’ve been like this for ages. Don’t you think you should tell them?”
It does feel like ages, or maybe Yoongi’s entire life. It’s obviously not that long, he hasn’t known them that long, but it feels like forever.
“Maybe if you weren’t so chicken shit you’d be dating them,” Seokjin adds.
And ow, that one hurts. Yoongi is not a coward, he's just… he’s shy and he likes to go at his own pace. Maybe his pace is slow and that leads to missed opportunities … or maybe Yoongi never had a chance at all.
Sitting up, Yoongi focuses on Seokjin and Hoseok sitting on the couch. “You’re an asshole,” Yoongi huffs, pointing an accusing finger at Seokjin’s chest.
Seokjin shrugs, unbothered, and clucks at him.
Horrible. Yoongi needs better friends.
Yoongi wonders if he could take Seokjin in a fight. Doubtful.
Sighing in defeat, Yoongi picks himself up off the floor and plops down between his friends on the couch. “No more jokes, please,” he pleads. “I’m serious, I don’t think I can do this.”
“You’re a good friend, Yoongi,” Seokjin says, teasing edge gone. “Putting yourself dead last to make sure Jimin and Taehyung are safe.” He pauses. “Tell me there’s no part of you that wants to go to this festival?”
“I don’t know,” Yoongi mumbles.
Hoseok hums thoughtfully. “If you say you really don’t want to go, we can figure something out.” He nudges Yoongi with his foot. “But you want to go, don’t you?”
Maybe. Maybe a little. Selfishly, probably. Yoongi wants to spend this time with them, no matter how much he knows it’s going to hurt.
“A little,” he whispers. “Am I a masochist?”
“Absolutely,” Seokjin says immediately. “One hundred and ten percent.” He wraps an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders to squeeze him. “But you’re doing the right thing.”
Yoongi snorts, shaking his head and trying to wiggle out from Seokjin’s grasp. “How is this the right thing?”
“Because,” Hoseok begins, leaning into Yoongi’s space, “this is just what you need.” He reaches up to cup Yoongi’s cheeks, squishing them so his lips puff out. Yoongi tries to shake him off, but Hoseok just smiles. “Besides, Jimin and Taehyung obviously want you there.”
“But why?” Yoongi asks, voice slurred by Hoseok’s grip on his face.
Seokjin chuckles. “Do you really think Jimin and Taehyung bought that extra ticket accidentally ?”
Yoongi blinks, frowning as well as he can with his face still squeezed between Hoseok’s palms. “What?”
With a snort, Hoseok pulls his hands away and boops his nose. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re more dense than I thought.”
“He’s hopeless,” Seokjin says. “Truly. It’s like a blind spot or something.”
“Agreed,” Hoseok says with a nod. “He’s definitely not this stupid about other things.”
Yoongi scowls, head whipping between them. “I’m literally right here,” he huffs.
“We know,” Seokjin chirps. “Look, Yoongi, you’re going to be fine. Just calm down.”
“Yeah, I bet you’re going to have a great time.” Hoseok grins at him. “I guarantee it.”
How can Hoseok guarantee something like this? It’s impossible. Yoongi could be the one coming back with broken limbs or… or maybe just a broken heart. But he sighs, resigning himself to the fact that this is happening.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he murmurs, unsure.
“That’s the spirit!” Seokjin says, clapping him on the back before withdrawing his arm. “You can relive your little punk boy phase, get grungy again.”
Yoongi scoffs and stands. “You act like I used to be some unshowered anarchist or something.”
“Were you not?” Hoseok asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Neither of you are funny,” Yoongi huffs. He turns, heading for the door. “I need to go. Guess I have to, you know, pack and everything.” Coming over and whining about this was an entire waste of time. Now he just feels ridiculous and he has less time to organize everything. With two days until they need to leave, Yoongi doesn’t even know if Jimin and Taehyung have booked a camping spot.
“Fuck, I have so much to do,” he grumbles, shoving his feet into his sneakers.
Hoseok and Seokjin follow him to the door, watching Yoongi huff and puff. “You’re going to be fine,” Seokjin repeats. “Just don’t get squished in a mosh pit or something.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees glumly. “Thanks, I guess.”
As the door closes behind him, Yoongi hears Seokjin’s squeaky laughter, and Hoseok saying something about a wager.
Fuckers.
⋯
Yoongi’s blood pressure has got to be through the roof at this point. He doesn’t know this for sure, honestly he doesn’t know anything about blood pressure or what it’s supposed to be but – his has to be high.
They’re outside Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment building, the two of them fluttering around as Yoongi packs his car. The two of them are more of a hindrance than a help, bouncing around him and seemingly producing more things to pack from thin air. It’s really only a four day trip, they don’t need that much. But they’re prepared, which surprises Yoongi. Sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, a tent and inflatable mattress. Coolers and food and toiletries and all sorts of odds and ends. Jimin even booked a camping spot.
Yoongi tries to push down the feeling of insecurity that Jimin did so much. He knows Jimin and Taehyung can take care of themselves, but he likes being needed. But maybe they’ll realize they don’t need him, that they can get on fine without him. Then there will be no need for Yoongi to cook and shop and spoil. He won’t be necessary and Jimin and Taehyung won’t have a reason to keep him around.
Swallowing hard, Yoongi forces the thoughts down and tries to focus on wedging the final cooler into his back seat. Jimin and Taehyung chatter on, talking about how excited they are, gushing over how happy they are that Yoongi is going with them.
“This is so perfect,” Jimin says happily, bumping Yoongi with his hip.
“The best,” Taehyung agrees, from his other side. He’s so close, Yoongi can feel the heat of his body just a few inches away. “We’re so glad you’re coming with us!”
Yoongi doesn’t understand why. And he doesn’t understand Seokjin and Hoseok’s comments. Of course the third ticket was bought accidentally, why would they have bought another? There’s no way they bought a third ticket hoping Yoongi would come, it doesn’t make sense.
Why would they want Yoongi to come?
It’s a long weekend away, camping in a field beside a festival. And there’s only going to be one tent, with them only able to reserve one camping spot. Which… seems strange, but Yoongi didn’t question them. So they have to share a tent, a tent that will barely fit three people. They’ll practically be on top of each other with no privacy.
Shouldn’t this be something they do as a couple? They don’t need Yoongi along as a third wheel or a hanger on. He’s just going to be in the way, interrupting time they could be spending together.
But they keep going on and on about how happy they are that Yoongi is coming, how much fun it’s going to be. Much more fun with you! Jimin had said happily, hugging Yoongi tight around the neck. But why ?
There’s a queasy feeling in Yoongi’s stomach as he finally gets the cooler into place and closes the back door. At this point, there’s nothing preventing them from leaving. Jimin and Taehyung are standing on the sidewalk, beaming at him and Yoongi wants to curl in on himself and scurry away.
“Are we ready?” Taehyung asks.
“Ready!” Jimin cheers.
Yoongi can only nod, feeling sweat forming at the small of his back. He just hopes he can hold himself together.
⋯
“I made a playlist,” Taehyung announces once they settle into the car. He’s in the passenger seat beside Yoongi, tapping at his phone. Fall Out Boy fills the car as Taehyung hooks up the AUX cable.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Yoongi makes sure Jimin is settled in his seat and buckled before pulling away from the curb. Driving will be good, it’ll give him something to focus on other than Jimin and Taehyung and their close proximity. This way, Yoongi has something to do with his hands and his eyes. He’ll be occupied and busy and hopefully not be able to spiral into nervousness.
“Who are you guys most excited to see?” Jimin asks, leaning forward to peer between the gap in the seats. His hand closes around the back of Yoongi’s seat, fingertips just brushing the fabric of Yoongi’s t-shirt.
“I’m really excited for Lykke Li and Lord Huron,” Taehyung says, turning to smile at Jimin. “And 3OH!3. Remember when we saw them live with Kesha, babe?”
Yoongi tries not to let the pet name bother him. Taehyung and Jimin are dating, of course they use pet names. They’re cuddly and kiss and coo at each other all the time. Yoongi needs to not be so sensitive.
“Yeah, that was so fun!” Jimin says happily. “We got pretty fucked up there, though,” he giggles. “I feel like I don’t remember much of the second half.”
“True,” Taehyung agrees. “What about you, Yoongi?”
“There are a lot of good bands,” Yoongi says noncommittally. The lineup is good but Yoongi still can’t believe he’s going to spend hours standing in a field to see them. He thought he finished that phase of his life four years ago. “Anti-Flag is playing so that will be cool. And I’ve wanted to see King Mothership live after I reviewed their debut album, it was one of my favorites last year.”
Taehyung nods along encouragingly. “I remember that review. You really liked “Cosmic Meltdown” and praised their story telling, right?”
“I –” Yoongi blinks, hands tightening on the steering wheel. He honestly didn’t know any of his friends read his reviews, especially not enough to remember details like that. “Yes,” he says softly. “I did. It was a good album.”
“There are so many great artists playing,” Jimin agrees. “Motion City Soundtrack and New Found Glory?” He lets out a contented sigh. “I swoon!”
Taehyung laughs, leaning between the seats to poke Jimin. “Come on, Jiminie, we all know who you’re most excited to see.”
“I still maintain that Carly Rae Jepsen is pop,” Yoongi announces.
In the back seat, Jimin makes a disgruntled noise, sitting back with an audible huff. When Yoongi looks in the rearview mirror, he’s pouting, arms crossed over his chest. It’s cute.
“Carly Rae is amazing, she’s extremely talented. And,” he continues, “her first album was basically folk.”
“Uh huh,” Yoongi says. “And is her music still folk?”
Jimin doesn’t answer but Yoongi sees him rolling his eyes, lips still pursed.
“I wasn’t aware this was a folk festival,” Taehyung teases, earning himself a glare.
“Shut up. Her music is good.” Jimin leans forward again. “I know you both like her music, even you, Yoonie.”
Yoongi can’t deny that he’s right, but seeing Jimin puffed up in indignation is too cute to resist.
It’s been a while since Yoongi was at more than a small underground venue show, maybe a couple thousand people maximum at something he was writing about. Smaller bands and smaller tours. This is big, huge. He hasn’t gone to a festival, especially one with multiple days, since he was twenty-three.
Maybe he misses it sometimes. The roar of the crowd, the frenetic energy of being part of something. Time slowing down, engulfed in sweaty bodies as he danced and sang and jumped. The press on all sides, just one small part of a whole as music blasted him, guitars wailed. It was euphoric, a high without needing any kind of substance to achieve it.
Yoongi used to love the electric feeling of it. The way his fingers would tingle, his skin would thrum with energy. Crushed in a sea of bodies, pulled into hugs and shoved by complete strangers, making out with pretty boys he met in mosh pits. Everything was easy then, when all Yoongi had to worry about was finding his campsite, or, if he got lucky, tumbling into someone else’s.
Dragging himself home battered and bruised with his ears ringing and a sore throat. Finger marks on his hips and arms, scratches down his back and hickeys on his neck. Badges of honor to match the bruises on his legs and torso from elbows, the black eye from a strangely misplaced knee.
He doesn’t think this festival will be quite the same. Yoongi can’t just lose himself in it anymore. He’s too old to let himself go, get swept up in the energy. And he has to look out for his friends. Or maybe, more accurately, look out for himself around his friends. If he truly let himself get lost in the atmosphere and excitement, he might do something he would regret.
More than anything, Yoongi wants to avoid that.
⋯
When they stop at a rest area about halfway through the drive, they pile out of the car on wobbly legs. Jimin and Taehyung make their way to the little convenience store to grab snacks while Yoongi heads for the bathroom.
It’s blissfully empty and Yoongi grabs the urinal at the end, slumping a little as he relaxes for the first time in almost three hours. He’s been so on edge with Jimin and Taehyung with him. They keep touching him, Jimin’s hands sneaking around Yoongi’s seat to squeeze and stroke. And Taehyung beside him, grabbing Yoongi’s arm or his leg, casually close. He loves it but he hates it, unable to stop himself from jolting and shivering.
Yoongi’s teetering on the edge of a scream at this point.
He gives himself a silent pep talk at the urinal, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to breathe. He can do this, he just needs to be normal. This shouldn’t be so hard, Yoongi’s been doing it for years. Playing a part, acting in a carefully rehearsed play. And they’re alone together all the time, it shouldn’t be so hard to continue it.
Yoongi isn’t sure why this time feels so different.
But, at this point, Jimin and Taehyung are none the wiser. They obviously haven’t realized how Yoongi feels. They have no idea Yoongi is in love with them and that’s not going to change. Yoongi will keep it to himself and not reveal any of this. When they return, everything will be the same as it was.
Jimin and Taehyung will remain Jimin and Taehyung.
And Yoongi will be… Yoongi.
Yoongi makes a silent promise to himself that when he gets back, this is it. Once and for all he’s going to stop this. He’s going to stop hanging on to something he can’t have. Yoongi will pick himself up and move on and try. Yoongi will get over them.
The door swings open and Yoongi hears approaching footsteps. He doesn’t look up until Taehyung takes the urinal right beside him, despite another four along the wall. He bumps Yoongi with his elbow and grins. Yoongi looks away, heat climbing his neck.
Yoongi is very careful to not look over when he hears Taehyung unzip, very careful to keep his eyes fixed on his wall.
But he thinks he might be alone in that. Yoongi swears he can feel eyes on him, Taehyung’s lingering on him. He refuses to look over, trying not to squirm even though he can feel the attention. Is Taehyung… is Taehyung looking at his dick?
Jesus fuck.
When he’s finally done, Yoongi tucks himself away and zips up. He flushes and spins, eyes fixed straight ahead as he practically sprints to the sinks to get out of there.
⋯
The exit for the festival looms before them after what feels like an endless stretch of highway. Yoongi sighs, relaxing back into his seat, arm falling loose, hand gripping the wheel lightly. They’ve been in the car for almost six hours with just one break. Yoongi’s ass aches and he’s stiff and tired. But now, they’re nearly there. Though that thought doesn’t exactly cheer Yoongi up.
Taking a deep breath, Yoongi glances in the rearview mirror. Jimin and Taehyung switched spots and Taehyung is in the backseat. He’s asleep, forehead leaning against the window and lips slightly parted. In sleep, Taehyung looks sweet and innocent, almost boyish. Lips open in pout and long lashes fanned over his cheeks, his brown hair is sticking up at odd angles, barely held off his forehead by a headband.
Jimin is asleep too, curled up in the front seat. He’s snuggled into a ball, feet on the seat and head resting on his knees. His bright red hair is in his eyes but Yoongi can see his plush lips pushed out in a pout as he dozes.
All of that in itself is a lot, but it’s even more with Jimin’s tiny hand curled around Yoongi’s wrist. His grip is loose, light, fingers encircling Yoongi’s arm where it rests on the center console. Yoongi had nearly jumped through the roof when he felt Jimin’s hand on him, the warmth as his fingers wrapped around his wrist. And now, even in sleep, Jimin hasn’t let go.
Yoongi has tried not to move much, hardly breathing. He didn’t want to disturb Jimin, didn’t want the moment to end. Selfish as ever.
The GPS beeps and the robotic voice sounds, announcing their exit. Jimin stirs, mumbling softly under his breath as he shifts on his seat. His fingers squeeze Yoongi’s wrist, thumb brushing his skin before he straightens up and yawns, hand withdrawing.
Turning in the seat, Jimin cheers when he sees the exit, clapping his hands together. In the back, Taehyung jerks awake and blinks blearily before he sees the sign as well. He joins Jimin’s clapping and cheering and Yoongi offers a smile at their antics.
His wrist, where Jimin’s fingers had rested, feels strangely cold without his touch.