I'm just saying, Jungkook signs as they gather around their table, and Hoseok nods and nods and nods and then swivels furiously when Jungkook is turned away to send Yoongi this scorching look because he knows where this is going and knows that Yoongi knows where this is going, and Yoongi just sends a look back telling him to suck it up and listen like a proper friend and not get involved, that if all he wanted was a fuck buddy, he should have said that from the get go and not taken me out on a fancy date. Like, did he think if he bought me a meal he'd get an automatic pass into my pants?

Isn't that how it usually works? Hoseok signs jokingly, and Jungkook reaches as if to smack him and Hoseok sidesteps out of the way just in time. Kidding. Sorry, kid. That's fucked up.

Jungkook sprawls himself across the table. When he lifts his face, there's a red mark forming on his temple from where it was pressed in too hard against the wood.

Jungkook stares at Yoongi for a longer than ordinary moment as Yoongi collapses into a sofa, and it's strange enough for Yoongi to raise an eyebrow in question.

Jungkook hesitates, then signs wearily, like he's using the last of his strength to speak, Hyung, go beat up all the bad people in the world for me.

What makes everyone think I'm some kind of fighter? Yoongi signs, exasperated, and Jungkook says something about his face looking like death itself and Hoseok agrees and Yoongi kindly reminds them of the week when they went coffee-less. He's not afraid to do it again.

Hoseok immediately shifts his story and offers to rub his feet and Jungkook makes as if to give him a shoulder massage. Yoongi's fighting them both off when a long set of legs in pinstriped slacks slips into view.

Yoongi lifts his head off the cushion, shoves Hoseok away from where he was resting uncomfortably close to his crotch (not the closest they've been, actually), and finds Taehyung hovering at the side of his armchair with a tray of drinks.

It's only been three days. It's only been three days since that fateful night on the sidewalk, since whatever it is that happened between them, well, happened. Very much so happened. And this is very much so happening, as well, and Yoongi promised he wouldn't run but that's all he wants to do because Taehyung is beaming down at him with that stupid, dopey grin and those stupid, batting eyelashes and his stupid, just, everything.

God, he's so beautiful it fucking hurts to be in the same room.

"Hi, hyung," Taehyung says lowly, voice tender compared to his smile, which is stretched wide across his face.

Yoongi, for a solid six seconds, forgets that he has limbs.

When he finally recalls all motor function, he lifts one hand in a small greeting and Taehyung practically bounces on the heels of his boots.

They're very nice boots. Black leather with a bit of a heel. Kind of sexy. Really sexy.

Yoongi glances down at his converse, scuffed at the toe and peeling at the back. Not so sexy.

Yoongi feels a hand on the small of his back and Hoseok writes, you okay?

Yoongi hasn't told him, hasn't told anyone, what happened that night. Maybe he should have. Maybe he should stop holding on to all these Too Big feelings on his own. Try to share them more. They're getting a little heavy.

"I brought you coffee. I've been keeping track of your usuals." Taehyung addresses the group as a whole, and Yoongi's back to watching his face so he sees it when Taehyung's smile stutters, his cheeks redden, and Yoongi looks over his own shoulder to see that both Hoseok and Jungkook are straight-backed and poised to strike.

Shame tries to burrow out of his chest, and Yoongi watches Taehyung's soul slowly curl in on itself the longer the moment weighs on.

Yeah, he probably should have let his close friends know that Taehyung is no longer Public Enemy #1 and that they both need to stop cursing his existence.

Calm down, Yoongi signs to them, swiveling so they can see his hands, read his eyes. Taehyung and I worked it out. Big misunderstanding. He's cool.

Hoseok blanches and Jungkook has this indiscernible expression as he looks up to Taehyung, back to Yoongi, another dragged-out look at Taehyung.

You sure? Hoseok signs, face wary and pinched. You're not just saying that because he's Jimin's BFF and you hate confrontation?

Yeah. We talked a few nights ago.

Hoseok's eyebrows disappear and a coy smirk slips out. He relaxes into his seat and looks to Taehyung while he signs to Yoongi, you mean the night you slipped in after your walk of shame looking like someone just handed you a daesung?

Yoongi flushes, is about to snap at him when there's a clatter across the table that draws him back to where Jungkook is picking up a couple books that fell to the ground. When he rises his ears are pink, but he's clenching his jaw tight and Yoongi wonders why that is. Why he looks so small and torn open.

Yoongi waves to get his attention and Jungkook reluctantly tilts his way. Quit that. He's nice. We like Taehyung. Be kind.

"I, uhm, I can come back," Taehyung announces, and when Yoongi turns around the others follow his lead. Taehyung's still smiling but his eyes are sad at the edges. Shit. "Sorry, I forgot there might be some bad blood still."

Yoongi scrambles to pull out his whiteboard and writes, You haven't done anything wrong. I forgot to tell them that it was all a misunderstanding. Please don't be sad.

Taehyung reads the board and his mouth parts open a little, his eyes finding Yoongi's. "Okay, hyung."

Yoongi nods, then writes, Please give me coffee now. I'm dying. Then makes grabby hands for the large mug he knows is his.

A throaty chuckle that makes Yoongi feel itchy around the collar of his hoodie, and Taehyung places two drinks down in the free space between laptops and textbooks, looking much more buoyant than he did all of five minutes ago, and hands over Yoongi's coffee personally.

When Taehyung leans away from them, Yoongi scribbles quickly, Sorry again. They're protective.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, then exhales long and slow. The tension slips off his face as he breathes, revealing something shy and soft and new, completely unlike all the Taehyungs Yoongi has met before and still somehow entirely the same. "I understand, hyung. Sorry for overreacting."

You weren't the one overreacting.

Taehyung honest to heavens giggles, bites his lip, says more tentatively, "Uhm, we are, right? Okay?"

Yoongi nods. Mouths a silent, Yeah. Ignores how Taehyung's gaze doesn't move from his lips.

Yoongi's tongue darts out to wet the bottom one and watches Taehyung's throat as he swallows.

A tapping from behind him, and Yoongi turns again and Hoseok is staring him down, hands ready to move, and Yoongi mouths at him to wait and goes back to Taehyung. He scribbles out on his whiteboard, Thanks for the drinks.

"Anytime," Taehyung grins, then his brows furrow and he adds, "Actually, not anytime. Seokjin-hyung's really nice but he'd probably start docking my pay if I give you too many freebies and as much as I love you, hyung, Jiminie will smother me with a pillowcase if I don't cover my cost of the groceries."

There's not complete silence. That would be absurd. Yoongi can still hear the steamer working in the background, the bell of the door jingling with the arrival of a group of college-aged girls, the couple three tables over laughing at a video on their phone, the quiet murmurings of the rest of the café filtering together into an unintelligible buzz of background noise.

It's not quiet, but Yoongi feels his lungs and heart and blood stop moving. Thoughts, still. All he can do is stare up at Taehyung, wide-eyed, as realization slowly draws Taehyung's face into an image of such mortification that it's impossible to look away. Like passing an accident on the road, the world moving at a third of the speed it should.

"Oh shit," Taehyung whispers, so soft that Yoongi has to read his lips to understand. He stares at Yoongi like maybe this isn't quite happening but it is. It still is. "Shit. I didn't mean—I mean I did mean it, but not like. Not like that. Oh my god I can't believe I just did that. Said that. To you. Why am I still talking?"

Please keep talking, Yoongi mouths without meaning to, flushes, and Taehyung watches his mouth again and Yoongi knows he didn't understand but it feels like he did and this is terrible.

The space around them is swelling, cutting off their air, and Yoongi tries to inhale deeply and feels like he's about to spiral when—

"Taehyung!" Jimin calls from the counter, snapping them both back to the rest of the world moving about them. Jimin's gesturing with his head towards the group of girls who are patiently waiting in line to order. "A little help, please."

Taehyung doesn't even say bye to them. He just ducks his head in a tiny bow and springs away from their table, moving so quick he bumps into two empty chairs and then apologizes to each of them with a little pat.

Yoongi smooths down the front of his shirt and pushes back the impulse to flee and discover some uninhabited land in the countryside and live out the rest of his life as a hermit in the cave of a mountain. Instead he turns, ready for the assault, and Hoseok takes one look at him and signs, What the fuck just happened?

What? Yoongi mouths, finally taking a sip of his drink. Perfectly made. A touch heavier than Jimin usually brews it, like Taehyung knows he prefers a darker taste.

Don't what me. That. That thing right there that just happened. The flirting. What the fuck?

We weren't flirting.

Joon and I don't even look at each other like that and we're practically married, Hoseok signs, exasperated, then gestures across the table for a second opinion. Jungkook, weren't they flirting?

Jungkook's staring at Yoongi like he's seeing him for the first time, the softest hint of sadness and uncertainty softening his features. Yoongi's heart trips at that expression, doesn't know where it's coming from, doesn't know what he did to make Jungkook look at him like he's some kind of stranger.

Were you flirting, hyung?

Jungkook asks so seriously that Yoongi honestly thinks it over, really wonders if that's what they were doing. If that's what they were doing the other night, as well. Every night.

Yeah. Yeah, they probably were.

Yoongi shakes his head, and it's the right decision because Jungkook inhales like it's the first breath he's taken in minutes.

He's nice, Yoongi signs instead. It's fine now. We're friends. Or getting there.

So we definitely don't hate him anymore?

Definitely not.

You sure you guys didn't fuck?

Jungkook sputters around his drink indignantly, a high flush to his cheeks, and Yoongi tosses him a napkin. He didn't realize I was mute and I didn't realize he didn't know I was mute. Misunderstanding ensued. We worked it out.

Were dicks involved?

Hoseok raises his hands in surrender when Yoongi glares, signs instead, Well I'm glad that's in the past. Now we can go back to movie nights.

Movie Nights are the least of Yoongi's concerns, but Hoseok's trying to lighten the air around the table so Yoongi just nods and pulls out his laptop and takes another drink.

Jungkook is staring unblinkingly at one of his art history textbooks, has been for about three minutes, and Yoongi wiggles his hand to get his attention and Jungkook looks up at him, still unseeing.

Why do you keep going out with all these terrible people? Yoongi signs after setting down his mug, and Jungkook blinks at him, questioning, and Yoongi repeats the question because he wants to bring the topic of conversation away from himself and because they never actually give Jungkook constructive criticism about his less than impressive string of dates and because he's honestly curious why Jungkook seems so set on seeing everyone in the world besides the person he actually likes who is very adorable and very available and very much so not an asshole.

Jungkook stares at him for a long moment, eyebrows turned down, those dark eyes concerned and unsure. He lifts his hands, then drops them again back into his lap.

I don't know anymore, Jungkook finally mouths, almost to himself, then opens his textbook and doesn't speak to them for the rest of the evening.

~~~

"Good to see you and Taehyung worked out your shit."

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and Jimin ignores the expectant stare, just slides onto the bar stool across from him and starts in on his artistically crafted panini.

(Yoongi doesn't understand why so much work goes into making food look good when it's just going to get digested anyway, but he doesn't mention that around Seokjin anymore, not since the Poached Pear Incident of 2016.)

Hello to you too, Yoongi signs, and Jimin stares at him with a mouthful of chicken, cheese, and five-herb bread and then flips him off.

Okaaaay. So that's how this conversation is going to go.

Yoongi shuts his laptop, giving Jimin his full attention, but Jimin just takes another horrendously large bite of his sandwich. Yoongi keeps telling him that this is why he gets acid reflux so bad at nights. That this is how people choke and die.

You could have told me he didn't know I was mute, Yoongi finally signs, and Jimin watches his hands and almost spits out a mouthful of iced tea.

"What?" Jimin gasps, wiping at his chin. "He didn't know you were mute?"

Yoongi eyes him warily. What the fuck did you talk about that night in your bedroom?

Jimin hacks out a cough, then daintily blots his mouth . "We didn't really talk. He just cried for like twenty minutes and then started babbling about the moon and garbage disposals and how much it costs to move to Tibet so he can shave his head and live in the mountains and take a vow of silence." Yoongi pauses with the rim of his mug pressed against his mouth and Jimin nods. "Yeah. It was pretty bad."

But you guys are okay?

"Yeah, we're great. I figured it was a misunderstanding from the get-go so I didn't get emotionally invested on one side like some people."

A stare-off ensues, and Yoongi delicately sips his coffee as Jimin shoves the last of his sandwich (read: half his freaking sandwich) into his mouth. His mouth isn't even that big. It's like a Mary Poppin's bag. Where does it all go?

Hoseok and Jungkook are just protective, Yoongi finally says when Jimin turns to his direction again.

"Yeah, well Tae doesn't deserve getting shit on over it."

He would if he was actually a bigot.

"But he's not," Jimin says with more intention, swallowing the last of his meal, calmly meeting Yoongi's eye. "And he never was, and now he has to earn everyone's trust again because you both didn't talk about your problems like normal people." Yoongi quirks a brow up and Jimin rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

Yoongi can't counter that, so they just sit in not-quite companionable silence as Jimin chugs an entire bottle of water. The guy has a half hour lunch break. What's he going to do with the other twenty-four minutes?

"But what about the two of you?" Jimin asks as Yoongi trails a pinkie finger along the rim of his mug. "Are you guys okay?"

Yoongi frowns, thrown by the question. We worked out our shit, remember?

Jimin watches him intently, searching for something that Yoongi doesn't know how to give. "The big stuff, yeah. But there's something else going on there." Yoongi feels a burn spread up the back of his neck, lifts his hands to retaliate and Jimin snorts. "Don't try to hide from me, Min Yoongi-hyung. I know what you're like when you're infatuated, and Tae came home the other night completely smitten and started singing some English jazz song like a fucking Disney princess. I was waiting for pigeons to fly in through the window."

Burning has spread to his cheeks, ears, and most likely toes. Yoongi's whole body has been set aflame. He gives himself three minutes to live.

Once again Yoongi starts to defend himself, and Jimin just shakes his head before brushing his fringe back off his forehead.

"Can you stop with the brooding for a moment?" He says, and Yoongi doesn't mean to pout but he must because Jimin's trying to so hard to be serious but he's also got that eye-smile thing going where he looks all plush and squishable. Jimin tries to smooth his expression into something less like the human embodiment of a vanilla cupcake and untangles his bangs again. "There was something going on between you two before movie night and there sure as hell is something going on right now. I love you, hyung, but Tae isn't as aloof as he acts. Don't play with him."

Jimin's gaze is solemn, and Yoongi doesn't hesitate to lift his hands and sign, I'm not playing with him.

Jimin waits for a moment, processing, and when he speaks it's so decisive. Jimin, for all the easy smiles and squeaky giggles, is fiercely protective. (Seokjin calls him the "lawful good" of the group, of which Hoseok then complained, and Seokjin gently patted his hand and said he was "chaotic neutral at best".) "I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying that you don't like feelings and Taehyung loves feelings. So find a balance or you're both gonna get hurt and I don't want to have to pick sides in that situation. I love you both too much for that."

Flaming heat again. One minute of life left.

Yoongi one-shots the rest of his coffee and Jimin practically squeaks with mirth.

"See how easy it was to say that?" Jimin coos, reaching out to squish Yoongi's cheeks. Yoongi shrinks back, like Jimin's touch is going to speed up his melting process. "I love you, hyung." He repeats, voice sweet and bubbly, then says louder for the rest of the room to hear. "I LOVE YOU MIN YOONGI, MY PRIDE AND JOY, MY FAVORITE HYUNG WHO BUYS ME ICE CREAM AND SWEATERS BECAUSE HE'S JUST MUSH INSIDE. See? Super easy to do."

Yoongi doesn't lift his face from where it collided with the surface of the table as he signs, That was really unnecessary.

"That was completely necessary. Shall I do it again?" Yoongi shrinks further in on himself as Jimin's high voice spreads loud and fast. "MIN YOONGI IS THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE, THE APPLE OF MY EYE, THE SOFTEST OF HUMAN BEINGS TO EXIST AND I ADORE HIM." Soft tittering bounces around here and there from other customers, and Yoongi feels a hand in his hair and just sighs deeply as he gives into Jimin's touch. "Look at that. Feelings. Friendship. No one died. Fantastic how that works, right?"

Yoongi flips him off and Jimin just laughs, tinkling at the edges, and continues to pet his head for the rest of his break.

~~~

Yoongi's still a frequent flyer at the concert hall. Hoseok's stopped asking where it is he goes with such fervent dedication on Sunday mornings (only after six weeks of vague, non-committal gestures on Yoongi's part that couldn't be interpreted any which way). Instead Hoseok starts setting a pot to brew for two when he comes home from his morning jogs.

Yoongi's not sure why he doesn't just tell Hoseok that he goes to play the piano. Maybe because he doesn't actually play. Maybe because Hoseok, despite how well-meaning he is, will never understand where it comes from. Where Yoongi's coming from.

Most days Yoongi likes that none of them grew up together. That none of them knew the Yoongi Before, when there wasn't a black hole in his heart eating him from the inside out and being person certainly wasn't as difficult as it is now.

But sometimes, Yoongi thinks that if they knew him then, then they might not be so sad for him now. Or maybe it would be worse. Maybe it would always be terrible. Maybe Yoongi is just meant to be this way, like a shadow has settled over his body, like his life is caught in a thick fog.

What if I don't want to be this way? What if I want to be better?

It takes roughly an hour and most of his mind, but Yoongi places his hands on the keys of the baby grand, presses down decisively, and listens as the minor chord echoes throughout the hall.

And because the world did not end and his heart did not stop, Yoongi plays another chord, then another, some overlapping and some standalone, some blending seamlessly and others jarring against the other, but he plays.

And plays.

And plays.

It's neither here nor there, the song. If it can even be called that, the strangled mess of confusion that just came from the instrument. But it felt good, and it felt right, and Yoongi sits with his hands on the keys and his foot still pressing down on the pedal even though the notes have long since melded with the air as his chest aches and aches and aches.

He leaves after that because he's late for lunch, and Jungkook's eyeing him curiously when Yoongi shuffles up to his side at the foot of the library stairs.

What's wrong? Yoongi signs to him, and Jungkook does that thing he does these days, when he makes as if to speak but then just opens and closes moth, pinches his lips together so his nose scrunches up. Not The Scronch, as Hoseok so affectionately dubbed Jungkook's sweet and delighted smile. Something more tentative. Something a little bleeding at the edges.

Jungkook takes Yoongi's hand to tangle their pinkies, and Yoongi allows himself to be dragged down the sidewalk like that, tethered to Jungkook as Jungkook moves ahead of him as if on a mission, occasionally kicking at a stray pebble or leaf along the sidewalk and picking up pieces of trash here and there to throw into nearby cans.

"You give advice on the radio show, right?"

They're stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and Yoongi turns to find Jungkook hugging his other arm to his chest. When he senses Yoongi's gaze, his eyes flicker over, but Jungkook can't quite hold his stare and he shifts from foot to foot anxiously.

Yoongi tugs on Jungkook's pinky to get his attention, mouths a simple, Sometimes.

Jungkook tugs back, twists so that his thumb can rub circles into the top of Yoongi's hand against the thin skin of his knuckles. "What do I do if I—If I like someone?"

Oh holy hell the day has come. Where's Hoseok when you need him? He's a pro with relationships. Honest and upfront and kind and sweet. Perfect boyfriend material. Really knows his shit because he knows people and Yoongi does not know people he's going to ruin Jungkook forever.

Yoongi draws back his hand to sign, What's your endgame?, all while shoving down hysteric bile rising in his throat. Do you mean how do you ask someone out?

The light changes but Jungkook doesn't make as if to move forward, so they stand there as the small crowd jostles and weaves around them.

"Maybe," Jungkook finally answers, then says so quietly Yoongi has to read his lips, "I think they would say no."

Who would possibly say no to you?

Jungkook, with unblinking dark eyes and the smallest smile Yoongi's ever seen, says, "You'd be surprised."

Yoongi feels his insides wrinkle. His twitching fingers tap out beats of eight on his thighs and Yoongi can feel a clump of sadness rise in his throat because here's the thing:

Yoongi remembers the first voice he ever fell in love with, but he also remembers the first person. A girl, Lee Sohee, his freshman year of college; young enough in his life that relationships still weren't as intentional or lasting as they should be but still old enough to leave a bit of an aftertaste, for Yoongi to occasionally think back to those four months and wonder,

Why did she ever say yes?

How did we ever make it that long?

Should I have tried harder?

Was it my fault?

Because Sohee was a year ahead of him. Beautiful, but not in a stunning way, like each of her features wasn't outstanding on their own but when placed together something lovely came about from it. She had a wonderful voice, sweet but husky at the edges, and the brightness in her eyes when she played the violin was something that Yoongi found familiar, something he wanted to have in his life.

Until Yoongi caught her with a senior from their department getting a little too close for anyone's comfort in an empty studio of the music building.

Yoongi's been in four relationships in his life. One before Sohee and two after. All of them were with people who could speak and hear. Three ended in cheating. Two ended with, not an apology for breaking Yoongi's trust and on one occasion his heart, but for agreeing to date him at all.

When he and Hoseok started to get to know each other, Hoseok told him he should never date someone outside the community. We're from different worlds, Hoseok had signed in acceptance one night in their shoebox of a dorm room, not at all upset that their already limited dating pool just got twelve times smaller. It's easier this way, he said. They don't understand and they never will.

But then Hoseok met Namjoon and things changed, people (in this case Hoseok) changed. For the better. And Yoongi likes to think that when he and Jimin were together there was some kind of positive influence there, but really it just proved to Yoongi that maybe it's not the mute thing that's getting in the way of him being with someone. Maybe it's just a Yoongi thing.

So how is he supposed to give Jungkook the whole "reach for the sky, pursue your dreams, the worst they can do is say no" spiel when Yoongi can't even convince someone that he's worth being with?

What about all those dates you've been on? Yoongi asks instead, and Jungkook bites hard on his lower lip, like he's trying to come up with answer.

"All those people asked me out," he finally says, and Yoongi can tell he wants to hide away but he can't because he has to read Yoongi's hands. "I've never asked someone out. I've never had a second date. And I just say yes to those people because—"

Yoongi waits for Jungkook to say more, but Jungkook just lifts his head to squint at the sun and sighs in this great big lonesome way.

Yoongi pushes his shoulder until Jungkook drops his head to look at him. You like someone? Yoongi asks, even though he already knows the answer because it's obvious, the way that Jungkook seeks Jimin out, the way they've been circling each other for months now. You're asking the wrong person, Kook. But you're not me. So I say that if you like this person, really like them and want to be with them, then just ask them out. If they say no, at least you can stop thinking what if.

Easier said than done, Jungkook signs, then adds hesitantly, "What if they're a friend?"

Yoongi tucks a wild hair behind Jungkook's ear, tugs on his ear a little, tries to make his own smile feel a little less hesitant and more like a promise. You've got a great group of friends, Kook. Whoever it is, they're going to stick by your side no matter what.

Jungkook's jaw tightens and he looks down at his hands. Yoongi waits patiently to see if he has something more to say.

He doesn't. Jungkook's eyebrows are scrunched together and he just takes Yoongi's hand again and they walk with slow steps the rest of the way to the café in the uncomfortable silence that seems to be their constant shadow these days.

~~~

Yoongi has to reminds himself sometimes that he loves Hoseok. In fact, he absolutely adores Hoseok. He'd go to a Taylor Swift concert if it meant keeping Hoseok happy.

SeokSeok [5:52pm]

i'm so sorry hyung joon is rlly sick and he need someone here 4 him or hell die u know that

This is ultimately a factual statement, but Jung Hoseok can also rot in hell.

Yoongles [5:53pm]

I can't believe you.

SeokSeok [5:55pm]

hyung!! im sorry!!

_:('□'」 ∠):_

Hoseok bailing on him wouldn't be a huge deal if Namjoon had been able to make it tonight. Or Jimin. Or at least Seokjin.

This feels like mutiny. Very non-accidental backing outs. If Yoongi hadn't see Namjoon's snotty, near-death face in a videocall and didn't know for a fact that both Seokjin and Jimin were called into work because half the café staff caught the same bug that's left Namjoon and most of the city inebriated, the Yoongi would say that this is a ploy. There's something going on here.

Jungkookie [5:57pm]

sorry hyung I just got out of class and have to go to a sudden group study session (T_T)

Old Man [5:57pm]

It's fine. Make sure to eat dinner.

Yoongi eyes his phone suspiciously. Sure, he's got kind of a wishy-washy friend group, but this is just ridiculous. Five out five down for the count, all within a half hour of each other. And no one ever misses Group Date Night. It's a Thing. Usually someone else has to pull Yoongi out from the nest he's created in the music studio, bathe him, stick him in presentable clothing items that didn't come out of a thrift bin, then personally walk him to wherever it is they're eating just to make sure he doesn't bail halfway through.

But here Yoongi is beside the fountain, hair somewhat brushed and wearing the really nice turtleneck Seokjin got him for his birthday this year, looking like he got stood up by a date. Or five dates. The old lady at the dukbokki stand across the way is eying him pitifully and Yoongi's terrified she's going to try to give him free food as consolation, although he wouldn't turn her away, either.

"Hyung! Yoongi-hyung!"

Yoongi ignores the voice because that's what you do in this kind of situation. Complete dismissal because how absurd would it actually be if Kim Taehyung was jogging towards him? A fever dream. This has to be some hallucinogenic offspring of all the coffee he consumed this week instead of actual meals.

Yoongi pulls out his phone again and manages to calmly type out to Hoseok,

Yoongles [6:00pm]

Why is Kim Taehyung running towards me right now?

SeokSeok [6:00pm]

ASDLFKJADF

IFROGT JIMN INVTED HIM

Yoongi looks up again, sees Taehyung bouncing on his heels as he waits for the light at a crosswalk to change, and then waves so enthusiastically when Yoongi meets his eye that he almost concusses the man standing beside him.

Yoongles [6:01pm]

No

No, pelase don't do this to me

SeokSeok [6:01pm]

AWEOIJGA

HAVE FUN HYNG

DONT BE A DICK

"Hey, hyung," Taehyung greets him breathlessly, cheeks the softest of pinks as he slows to a stop before Yoongi. Yoongi tries not to stare, tries not to drag his eyes from the sexy boots from the café and up Taehyung's long, lean, lovely body; but he does it anyway because he can't help it. Because Taehyung is wearing a lumpy yellow sweater and a fucking beret. No normal person looks good in a beret but Taehyung just has to pull it off because he's beautiful that way.

"Hyung?" Taehyung glances around, tapping his feet to keep away some of the chill. Fucking boots. Fucking pointed, heeled leather boots. "Where is everyone?"

Yoongi pulls out his phone and types stiffly, Everyone had to cancel.

Taehyung leans over the screen, close enough that Yoongi can smell cinnamon and pine off of him, and Taehyung's mouth pulls down at the edges. "Everyone, everyone?" Yoongi nods, breathes through his mouth, and Taehyung bites his cheek, his eyes flickering around the courtyard before nervously settling on Yoongi once more. "We, uh, we can still get dinner if you'd like?"

The ddukboki lady sells at least three cups of rice cakes in the time it takes Yoongi to remember that he needs to blink. Taehyung looks absolutely flustered by the time Yoongi returns to his body. "I mean," Taehyung presses on, biting his lip, "we're already out here. And you look so nice and I'm going to shut up now. Like right now."

Yoongi squints up against the light of the streetlamps and contemplates going home.

Instead he sighs deeply and nods. Because he promised he'd stop running away. Because Taehyung also looks so, so nice and Yoongi wants to take him to dinner.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

"Was that a 'yes, you need to shut up' nod or a 'yes, let's grab dinner' nod?" Taehyung questions in a tiny voice, and Yoongi burrows under his scarf and holds up two fingers. Taehyung beams at the sight of them. "Awesome. Yes. Good. Food is good. This is great. I have just the place in mind."

So that's how they end up leaving the fancy barbecue place Seokjin usually picks out for them, worming away from the main road, down a maze of side alleys that share no commonality. Yoongi thought he knew the city, but he's clueless as Taehyung takes lefts and rights seemingly at random.

They've been walking for a few minutes when Taehyung finally clears his throat and says, "You do look really nice hyung. I like your sweater."

Yoongi pulls his hands from his pockets to sign, Gift from Jin-hyung. I feel like a fucking penguin, and it's quiet for a few moments before Yoongi glances over to see what Taehyung's waiting on and finds Taehyung watching him curiously, a little embarrassed.

Fuck, that's right. Taehyung doesn't know sign language.

Fuck. Taehyung doesn't know any sign language.

Usually this isn't a problem. Most people don't sign. Hence cellphones, his whiteboard, and sometimes very awkwardly intentional eye-contact. But Yoongi doesn't usually extensively hang out with those people anymore or, you know, have an individual dinner arrangement with them. This is going to be a disaster. It's always ended in disaster. Holy shit what was he thinking why did he agree to this?

"Um, hyung?"

Yoongi pulls out his phone and types as quickly as he can with gloves on, Gift from Jin-hyung. Feel like a penguin.

Taehyung steps in closer to read and Yoongi tenses as their arms brush.

A little snort, and then Taehyung says, "Seokjin-hyung has nice taste when it's not for himself and penguins are fantastic. Definitely my sixth favorite animal."

Only sixth?, Yoongi types.

"That's pretty high up there for there being, like, millions of types of animals in the world."

Touché.

"What's your sixth favorite animal?"

Yoongi stares at Taehyung and Taehyung blinks back at him. Bats, actually. His lashes are spider leg long and just might blow Yoongi away sometime through the night.

Sixth? Taehyung nods in all seriousness. Elephant?

"Oh-h, that's a good one," Taehyung nods, all giddy arms and this fantastic smile. "Did you elephants have the most developed hippocampus out of all animals? They're super empathetic and very affectionate with one another. When one dies in the herd, they all stop to grieve. There are even cases of elephants coming across other dead elephants and mourning them, as well, like paying their respects and stuff."

Yoongi considers having Hoseok text him a fake emergency. Maybe lie about Namjoon being in the hospital. (Which isn't all the unbelievable, seeing as he's been in the ER twice this year already.)

He considers telling Taehyung that he has a major project due at midnight he completely blanked on and has to leave right now. Like immediately. (Also not a lie, except he already submitted his assignment.)

He honestly considers just turning around and walking away. (Possible, but extremely rude. Yoongi might be mildly misanthropic, but rude? Not a chance.)

As if reading his thoughts, Taehyung's smile slowly slips from his face. It's still there, large and a little messy at the corners, but his eyes are so sad and Yoongi knows Taehyung is assuming the worst of his silence, is about to apologize again, and that realization is so shattering that Yoongi has to redo his message twice because he's typing so fast none of the words are actually making it on screen.

Elephants just moved up on my list. Definitely a solid third place now. Currently competing with jellyfish and whales. Will you tell me more?

Taehyung leans in close again. His eyes widen and he shivers slightly, eyes flicking to Yoongi and away just as quick. He blushes hard. Tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. Delves into a dissertation quality analysis on the prejudice in the scientific field against the idea that animals are capable of responding in complex ways to death.

Not only is the subject actually fascinating to hear about, not only is Taehyung's voice grumbly and warm when it reaches into Yoongi's chest, but Taehyung himself is so animated with the way he speaks, gesturing with his hands as his mouth twists peculiarly around certain words.

Yoongi has to look away from him. Has to clench his palm, which wants to touch him, and presses it tightly into his pocket.

"Oh! There it is."

Yoongi starts and looks up to where Taehyung is pointing. It's a humble looking building, tucked just off a back alley between an Italian restaurant and a stationary store. Vines crawl up the concrete slab wall and white Christmas lights are strung haphazardly from the front awning. The door is bright red. "Jiminie said you like barbecue and Daegu kimchi," Taehyung says, as if in explanation, as they approach the noodle shop. "I'm from Daegu too, you know. Well, you probably did know. Jiminie says my dialect gets a bit thick at times."

Yoongi tugs out his phone, which he had slipped away as Taehyung spoke, and writes, Jimin should speak for himself.

"Ah, I know right?" Taehyung grins as he holds the door open for Yoongi. It jingles from a small wind chime on their way in. "Busan's worse than Daegu."

Way worse.

"The absolute worst," Taehyung laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep. "Daegu boys for life, right? Sorry, a lifetime commitment is a bit of a, well, commitment. Daegu boys for the night, how's that sound?"

I'd be with you for life, Yoongi doesn't say, just holds up his hand, curled into a fist, and Taehyung brightens and bumps their fists together.

For such a seemingly forgettable space, the restaurant is brimming to the edges with dinner-goers. The middle-aged woman who guides them to a tw0-seater table in the back pinches Taehyung's cheek, though, and Taehyung grins and doesn't shy away from the touch.

"I come here a lot," he explains, once again reading Yoongi's face. "Reminds me of home."

When they've stripped off any unnecessary layers and ordered more food than two people can probably consume, a bout of silence takes over their corner. Yoongi's used to reading silences, and this one is a bit heavy, on the verge of being too warm, too intimate for him to handle for it only being the third time he and Taehyung have actually carried a conversation.

Yoongi's trying not to notice the way Taehyung's hair is just long enough to shadow his face. Tries not to notice as his sweater stretches across his shoulders. Tries not to notice his long, smooth fingers as they play with the edge of the drink menu. Artist hands. Musician hands. Delicate and purposeful with their movement.

Yoongi has the urge to slide his fingers across Taehyung's knuckles, his wrist, the golden skin of his forearm that's exposed from pushing his sleeves up.

Yoongi doesn't think he's ever noticed anyone the way he notices Taehyung.

Taehyung's eyes are dark and wide when Yoongi looks up to his face. He's watching Yoongi intently, with unexpected seriousness. Doesn't try to smile. Doesn't try to speak. Just looks at him. And Yoongi is so lost because he's good at reading people but Taehyung just confounds him when he's like this. What goes on in that gorgeous head of his?

Yoongi swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, just as he did in the café, and watches as Taehyung's gaze tracks the movement; watches as Taehyung tugs his own bottom lip between his front teeth. Taehyung's lashes drop, darkening his eyes, and suddenly he isn't the soft, bright boy Yoongi entered the building with. Suddenly he's brooding and sultry and intimidating, yet again this different person Yoongi's never seen before but still somehow entirely himself.

Yoongi still wants to kiss his jaw, still wants to hold his hand.

It might be years of habit, but Yoongi looks to Taehyung's mouth again, watches his lips part with intention, like he's about to say something important.

At that moment their food arrives, jostling them both out of the moment they were creating. The meal is good. Really good. Like good enough Yoongi has made a mental mapping point to come and visit this place again because it's cheap and warm and their kimchi really does taste like home.

As he eats, Yoongi listens to the chatter around them, from the lazy drawl of a man two seats away to the high laughter of a woman in a bright red jumpsuit at the bar. The windchime rises above it all, filling any stalled sections. Everyone moves at the same volume, but the pitches and tonal changes create this blanket of melting noise around him, and Yoongi bobs his head along to the conversation, to the unconventional music.

Yoongi realizes only after he's nearly finished his bowl that he's been tapping a beat across the tabletop, a light and tepid melody that doesn't quite stir up his heart, just keeps it afloat, soft and enchanting.

Yoongi realizes only after he's nearly finished his bowl that he and Taehyung haven't spoken since they sat down.

Yoongi tenses, this narrow sort of panic settling into his chest, and he turns and finds Taehyung leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm, eyes closed. Still. Calm.

Yoongi's jittery hand taps the table twice to get his attention, and Taehyung cracks one eye open and sends him a dopey, close-mouthed smile.

I'm sorry, Yoongi mouths, and Taehyung opens both eyes as Yoongi grabs his phone and types, I'm so sorry. You've just been sitting there. You're probably bored out of your mind.

Taehyung frowns at the message. "I'm not bored, hyung. This is the best meal I've had with someone in months. Maybe ever."

Yoongi's hand is trembling. He tucks it into his lap before Taehyung can see, mouths, What?

There's a furrow in the dip between Taehyung's brows, and he's wearing a smile but his eyes are serious as he speaks. "I can't remember the last time I just sat and enjoyed a meal and paid attention to, like, the world around me. I tend to get really caught up in my mind, so this was really nice. The quiet. Just being here with you."

Longing unfurls within Yoongi's chest, so deep and startling that his breath hitches. Taehyung must catch the sound because his smile grows wider, and Yoongi tries not to squirm in his seat.

They leave soon after that, Yoongi still reeling that Taehyung didn't try to say a word to him once in forty minutes—just sat there and ate his noodles and listened to people the same way Yoongi was, the same way Yoongi does, and didn't question it.

Not many people would do that. Namjoon might. Namjoon has. But that's Namjoon, the epitome of getting lost in one's own mind. Seokjin and Jimin are always talking, telling a story about their day or plans regardless of whether Yoongi responds or not.

Taehyung steps in close when Yoongi holds out his phone to read.

Okay. Ask.

"Ask what?" Taehyung questions, sidestepping a couple passing them on the street and jostling Yoongi with the action. When the walkway opens up again, Taehyung doesn't move from his side. Their arms keep brushing.

You must have questions, Yoongi types, and Taehyung reads the message and his face goes serious again, thoughtful, and he doesn't look at Yoongi when he says,

"Do you think dinosaurs actually had feathers?"

Yoongi stumbles over a rise in the concrete and Taehyung steadies him on the elbow.

"Does fate exist? If so, do we have free will? Is suffering a necessary part of the human condition? How likely do you think it will be that humans will last another thousand years without killing ourselves off? Sorry, too much? Should I make them more personal?"

Yoongi has stopped walking, and Taehyung moves out of the way of a group passing through and leans against a retainer wall, hands in his pockets and looking like he just slipped out of a catalogue. Beret. Eyelashes. Pointy boots. "Favorite dipping sauce?" He asks with the same intentionality, like he's still sprouting bits of philosophical thinking. "Do you chew on your pens? Can you swim well? Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees? Do you believe in ghosts? What's one song that you'd never skip?"

Silence passes, the buzzing kind that feels like ants in Yoongi's bones. Taehyung smiles at a dog that passes them, then turns the same smile on Yoongi.

"I don't want you to feel like, you know, you have to give me your life story or something," he says without an inkling of hesitation. "I figure there are certain things you'll share with me when you want to. Unless you want me to ask about it. Want me to ask about it?"

Yoongi shakes his head, partially because he doesn't want to talk about it and also because he's still stunned, off-balance, still feels like his insides are crawling around in a manic mess of musical chairs. There went his spleen. Can he live without a spleen?

Taehyung nods, still wearing that wonderful grin of his. Very toothy. So, so pretty. He reaches for Yoongi, tugs on the ends of his scarf, pulling until they're aligned. "Cool. So. Pulp orange juice. Yay or nay?"

Yoongi grimaces and Taehyung pats his chest. "Good man. Good answer. Now we can definitely be friends."

He's so close and his hand is so big, so warm. He is so big, so warm.

I want to hold you, Yoongi thinks. I want to be held by you.

Is that all it took to win you over? Yoongi types out shakily, and Taehyung reads the note upside down and gleams.

"Nah, I still need to hear your answer on objective and subjective morality. Whether we're born inherently good or evil. You know, the basic get-to-know-me questions."

You must have gotten along well with Namjoon last year. Taehyung lets out a bark of a laugh at that. Let me guess. You started the "Is a fish wet if it's in water?" debacle.

"No," Taehyung giggles, and he slips his beret off to comb his hand through the front of his bangs. A piece ends up sticking up, flittering about as he pulls his hat back on. "But I definitely fueled the fire a 'lil. Got us out of a pop quiz."

Yoongi stares. Yoongi stares and this time he doesn't care if Taehyung catches him.

"What? Something on my face?" Taehyung rubs at his cheek with a palm. "I'm a messy eater."

Yoongi can't help it, can't keep it all inside, and he lifts his hands and smiles as he signs, You're absolutely incredible.

Taehyung stares hard at his face, eyes going wide, then at his hands. His forehead wrinkles in concentration. He's quit wiping his face. "That didn't look like bad hand movements," he says skeptically.

You're beautiful, Yoongi signs again, and Taehyung narrows his eyes, trying to understand. I love the sound of your voice. You're kind. You care about people. You're not afraid to be yourself. I love that.

"Hyung, this isn't fair."

Life isn't fair, Yoongi taps out on his phone and holds it out for Taehyung to read. Taehyung rolls his eyes and it makes Yoongi smile, which makes Taehyung smile, and now they're just two grinning fools on a cold sidewalk in Seoul and how did they get here? What happened in Yoongi's life to lead him to this impossible moment?

There's still that bit of hair flipping in the breeze, and Yoongi reaches up to tuck it back into place, lingering for a moment too long because Taehyung's hair is silky soft. Yoongi wants to card his fingers through it. Wants to trace his thumb across the bridge of his nose, the length of his jaw. Wants to go up on his toes and kiss the mole on Taehyung's cheekbone. The mole on the tip of his nose. The mole hidden under his eyelashes.

The mole under his bottom lip.

Taehyung inhales sharply and Yoongi draws his hand back and tries not to meet his eyes, tries not to make the weird thing that just happened even weirder and feeling like he's miserably failing.

So are you a psych major? Yoongi writes to him when they've walked another block, and Taehyung looks pleased that Yoongi is asking.

"I'm a triple," he answers. "Art education, early-childhood development, and psychology. I want to use art to help little kids with problems."

Yoongi slows to a stop again because that's ridiculous. That's ridiculous and amazing and impossible. Namjoon was a double and he had to extend a semester and he spent a collective three weeks of his undergrad sleeping in the library, and Taehyung is over here pursuing three majors? Two of which are a highly-selective programs and all of which are extremely time consuming?

Taehyung twirls on his heel when he notices Yoongi isn't moving. His smile doesn't falter as he tilts his head in question.

How many jobs are you working?

Taehyung leans in to read the screen. "Jobs? I'm part-time at the café and at the undergrad library. The library helps offset my room and board, and what I make at the café covers the tuition my scholarships don't."

Taehyung is pursuing three intensive majors.

Taehyung works almost forty hours a week to pay for school.

Taehyung has scholarships to one of the most competitive universities in the city. Yoongi knows because he worked his ass off to keep his own during his undergrad.

Taehyung bites his cheek and rocks back on his feet, reading Yoongi's face intently.

"It's just me and my grandparents," he explains automatically, swaying with the breeze. "We don't have a lot of money, so I have to put in a little more effort than some."

Taehyung's not embarrassed to say this, but Yoongi hates that he feels the need to share his situation, like someone in the past has tried to make him feel ashamed over it.

Yoongi gestures for Taehyung to hold out his hand, and Taehyung glances down at his palm quickly and then back to Yoongi, who is pulling a felt tip pen from his pocket. Taehyung gently places his hand palm up into Yoongi's, and Yoongi flips it over and makes a little writing motion, a question if this is okay.

Taehyung nods.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, writes, I think you're absolutely incredible, in tidy little letters. Definitely a Rothko.

Yoongi walks away after that, scarf pulled high to cover his cheeks when Taehyung draws his hand back in to read.

A moment later Yoongi feels pressure on his arm, against his wrist, and he looks down and finds that Taehyung is holding his hand.

Taehyung squeezes once without looking at him and starts to pull away, and Yoongi bites his lip and laces their fingers together, securing them closer, and he doesn't miss the small sound of surprise Taehyung makes because of it.

Yoongi can't sign like this, not that Taehyung would understand him if he tried to anyway. But that's not the point. The point is that Yoongi likes to have his hands free because he feels trapped without the use of them, but with Taehyung things are just simple. Things are quiet. The best of kind of quiet. A kind that Yoongi hasn't felt in years, not since he first started learning the piano, before all the competitions and the ladder-climbing and the Expectations.

Yoongi steps in closer so they're pressed together, leg to hip to arm to shoulder, and when Taehyung asks if he can walk Yoongi home, Yoongi doesn't say no. (Because this is the twenty-first century and men can walk other men home and because he likes that Taehyung offered and likes being taken care of and because he doesn't quite want this night to end just yet.)

They don't say anything else the rest of the way. They walk in that companionable, blanketing silence, hand in hand, and it's such a perfect sigh of a moment that when Taehyung leaves him outside his building, Yoongi has to hide in the stairwell for a few minutes with a trembling hand over his heart because it feels like he's falling to pieces.

Hoseok is still out when Yoongi slips in, and Yoongi drops to the floor of the living room because his legs won't carry him all the way to the couch. He slips out his phone and stares at it for a long moment, then pulls up his chat with Hoseok.

Yoongles [8:09pm]

Is Namjoon alive?

SeokSeok [8:11pm]

barely

AND UR TXTING FIRST WAT HAPPND

Yoongles [8:11pm]

The fuck nothing had to happen for me to text you first.

SeokSeok [8:11pm]

mmhmmmmmm

Yoongles [8:11pm]

Nothing happened.

SeokSeok [8:12pm]

MMMHHMMMMMMM

dont worry babe ill be home tonight and u can tellme all bout ur date

Wasn't a date, Yoongi mouths to himself. Stares up at the speckled, popcorned ceiling where some paint is chipping. Rolls onto his side. His back. His stomach. Wishes that he had a voice just so he could let it loose into the carpet.

Instead he keeps himself occupied, and by the time Hoseok returns around midnight with busy, shameless hands, Yoongi has done the dishes, vacuumed the floor and the sofa and the curtains, showered, made some chamomile tea, and written a song so sickeningly sweet that Yoongi could only listen to it once before blushing and tucking it deeply away in the drawer of his desk, into the little soft part of his heart where all his words seem to go these days.

~~~

The next morning, after a late and drawn out rehash with Hoseok about his not-date with Taehyung—

You seriously didn't talk once throughout dinner? Not once? What kind of date is that, hyung?

Not a date. Because it was only dinner.

Then why are we on the floor with face masks on?

Because you wanted to do face masks.

—Yoongi wakes up with the sun, sees a fresh coating of snow on his windowsill, and immediately picks up his phone to text Taehyung.

Except that he doesn't have Taehyung's number.

And he and Taehyung aren't close enough yet to be casually texting.

And because it's just some fucking snow what the hell, what the hell?

A knock on his door, and Yoongi pokes his head out of the comforter burrito he's rolled himself in and Hoseok watches him for a long moment with a toothbrush caught mid-swipe before shaking his head, mouthing something that distinctly looked like dumbass, and then walking away.

Yoongi returns to his cocoon with a sigh, blissfully warm, and he's about to nod off again when his phone, still tucked between his hands, buzzes him back into focus.

Unknown Number [7:18am]

DID YOU SEE THE SNOW???

Yoongi reads the message once, twice. Checks the number. Tries to search it and discovers nothing useful but that doesn't matter because he already knows who it's from but refuses to believe it because it's ridiculous. Everything about this, them, is ridiculous.

Unknown Number [7:22am]

Its Taehyung btw. Jimin gave me your number

I hope that's okay

Yoongi, as casually and coolly as you can chuck a phone across a room, chucks his phone across the room.

It clatters against the wall, collides with the edge of his desk, then slides with intent across the floor and through his still open door into the hallway where Hoseok, on his way back through from the bathroom, pauses and then picks it up to read.

A long, painful moment passes, but soon Hoseok slowly pivots into view, revealing a maniacal grin, and Yoongi barely has time to burrow into his blanket fortress before Hoseok is cackling like a possessed goblin and launching himself across the room. He lands on Yoongi, a shin against hip and an elbow pressing into his sternum as Hoseok shrieks and howls and rocks them back and forth as he often does when his body doesn't know what to do with all the energy within.

Eventually the attack fades into the occasional giggle and head pat and prodding finger until Yoongi's had enough and blindly throws an arm out. He makes contact and Hoseok falls to the side with a squeal, wiggles some more, and after wishing Yoongi luck and letting him know that he and Taehyung would have the most beautiful and artistic hypothetical babies (Let's hope they get Taehyung's height, hyung.), Hoseok shuffles away to finish getting ready for class and Yoongi, still stricken stupid by the situation, watches as the snow piles up on the windowsill some more.

When an adequate amount of time has passed, Yoongi takes out his phone to respond to Taehyung and finds instead,

Min Yoongi [7:27am]

Oh its more than ok

😜 💦

It's been stated before, but Jung Hoseok can rot in hell.

Unknown Number [7:34am]

...

Uhmmmm

sorry. Think I have the wrong number

Min Yoongi [7:41am]

That was Hoseok. Sorry.

Unknown Number [7:42am]

oh! okay yes. that makes more sense.

good morning hyung!

Min Yoongi [7:42am]

Good morning.

Unknown Number [7:42am]

sorry if i woke you up

i just saw the snow and thought of you!!

Yoongi feels his fingers clench at the urge to throw his phone again. Instead he rests it on his chest, takes a few deep breaths that don't do much good to quell his racing heart or lungs or mind, and then answers,

Me [7:43am]

I was awake, no worries.

Unknown Number [7:43am]

okay!

good to hear

i have to go to class now!

Me [7:43am]

Bye

Yoongi stands, his heart pounding in his ears, and makes his rounds around the apartment because apparently that's what he does these days: paces and dusts and reorganizes their mug collection by color like some kind of wreck of a human being whose body doesn't know how to process Feelings.

Seokjin gets it. Namjoon probably empathizes in his own way because he just knows things, knows people, but Seokjin's really the only one in their group who understands that emotions are hard and putting names to them are even harder and god forbid they ever actually try to express them for real because who knows how that'll end. They talked it about it once (while drunk, of course) and it's probably the only reason why they're actually friends now. Seokjin, flamboyant and confident and allergic to serious situations, and Yoongi, reserved and unsure and so desperate to put words to things but never able to place them in the right order.

When he returns from loading the washer, Yoongi swipes his phone off the dresser where it was charging when he sees the top light blinking with a notification.

Jiminie [7:45am]

are you txting tae right now?

An odd thing to ask, but not the strangest question he's received from Park Jimin.

Yoongi Hyung [8:10am]

I was. Why?

Jiminie [8:11am]

he was like completly devastated

whatd u say to him??

Yoongi Hyung [8:11am]

Not much? Just good morning and goodbye

Jiminie [8:11am]

HYUNG

YOU WHY ARE U SO BAD AT THIS ಠ▃ಠ

Yoongi falls in to bed, tucks a hand between his thighs and rolls so that the sunlight from the window can't blind him. Types with one hand and a frown,

Yoongi Hyung [8:12am]

Bad at what?

Jiminie [8:12am]

dont worry ill fix this

AGAIN

(¬_¬)

Yoongi Hyung [8:12am]

Fix what??

Radio silence. Yoongi gets up to pilfer around again, hears the buzzer sound on the washer and moves the laundry over to dry. Comes back to a string of messages of Jimin again.

Jiminie [8:27am]

i told tae that ur not mad at him

thats just the way u text everyone

ur welcome （￣ε￣）

Yoongi Hyung [8:36am]

Park Jimin what is going on?

Jiminie [8:36am]

tae thought he was bothering you

cuz ur responses are so eghhh

Yoongi Hyung [8:37am]

Eghhh?

Jiminie [8:37am]

not cute

real ~serious~

u rlly shouldnt punctuate everything

Yoongi Hyung [8:37am]

He was upset about that?

Jiminie [8:37am]

he thought he was annoying u

Yoongi sits up quickly and immediately types out to Taehyung,

Me [8:38am]

Sorry if I came across as rude earlier.

He stills. Thinks about what Jimin just said, thinks of that sad smile Taehyung wears sometimes around people. Types again,

Me [8:38am]

And I thought of you, too.

With the snow, I mean.

But he can't possibly end things there holy shit why did he just send that?

Me [8:39am]

Have fun in class.

Shit. Punctuation. Shit.

Me [8:39am]

:)

SHIT.

Yoongi lifts his arm to throw again (because what's the point in life proof cases if you don't give them a run for their money?), but his phone vibrates in hand and Yoongi knows it's Taehyung. It's always Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung [8:43am]

(●'□')♡

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

~~~

That day Yoongi texts the group a photo of Namjoon spread eagle in the snow after slipping on a patch of ice.

It's a common occurrence (sending each other snippets of the day/making fun of Namjoon's lacking equilibrium); but Yoongi adds Taehyung to the group chat because it feels like something he should do and he's surprised Jimin hasn't already done it (since Jimin's sole mission in life is to smoothly integrate Kim Taehyung into every facet of their existence).

He gets the usual back, not that he was expecting much of anything. A string of laughing emojis from Hoseok and Jimin, an aggrieved selfie from Namjoon from when he checks his phone after they've parted ways. Jungkook asks if Namjoon is okay, and Namjoon lets Jungkook know that he just got a point and Jimin has been deducted.

(Jungkook and Jimin have a runny tally of who will be knighted Namjoon's Favorite. It's a tight race. Winner receives a hand-written poem outlining the specifics of why they were selected as the Favorite. So far Jungkook's primal need to receive recognition from the origin of his Gay Awakening™ is beating out Jimin's Praise Kink™.)

(Namjoon made them well aware that he would happily write anyone a poem if they asked for it.)

(Seokjin called him a piss blanket and then shoved three crab balls into his mouth.)

Taehyung sends a video back of Seokjin using a broom as a mic stand while "Drunk In Love" blares over the café speakers. (The performance includes an impressive E5 note and an immaculate attempt at a slut drop, at which you can then hear Jimin's squeaky laughter somewhere off camera.)

During lunch, Namjoon sends a picture of the foam panda that Jimin makes in his latte, and then a follow up image comes in from Jimin of Namjoon standing over a broken mug, shadowed by the light from the windows, head tilted towards the ceiling in defeat. (Taehyung tells Jimin that it's an excellent photo, reminiscent of the late and incredible Henri Cartier-Bresson. Jungkook then shot back that it's definitely more of a Doisneau due to the poetic and candid nature of the image. Taehyung then said that, if anything else than Cartier-Bresson, the photo would be closer to Dorthea Lange, due to the dramatic angle and lighting that doesn't overpower the subject. Jungkook then said that the composition wasn't dynamic or jarring enough to be a Lange.)

Good to see they're getting along? Hoseok signs to him as they walk to class, laughing as their phones continue to ping and buzz as the responses start to grow to paragraph length.

(Namjoon puts an end to the argument by stating that they're both right because the photo is that of a humanist origin, therefore covering both Doisneau and Bresson under the same umbrella, but actually falling more heavily onto Willy Ronis, whose motto in art was to capture "ordinary people with ordinary lives" and who kept his subject matter simple and close to his heart, while the others in the Paris school fell more into photojournalism at some point in their careers.)

Fuck, I love that man, Hoseok swoons, and then proceeds to text the group chat how sexy Namjoon's brain is, followed by a string of dubious emojis.

Seokjin sends the salad meme and then bans him from the chat for twenty-four hours.

~~~

[Vante] You probably don't remember me but I wanted to thank you for your advice earlier this year. About apologizing. There was a miscommunication with that person. I think we're friends now!

"Your fanboy is back."

Yoongi doesn't need to look at Namjoon to hear his smirk. But he looks anyway.

Namjoon's face is pinched from holding back his smile and Yoongi wants to take a photo to use as blackmail. Instead he burrows in behind his computer and flicks a middle finger in the air because he knows Namjoon is still watching him. Namjoon laughs, and it's big and round and fills the room.

[Administrator: Suga] I remember you. Glad to hear.

[Vante] It's funny how things could be different if we hadn't sorted things out.

"You gonna tell him who you are sometime, or are you just going to keep this creepy Cinderella thing going?" Namjoon asks.

It's not creepy, Yoongi texts him, still hunched behind his screen because he refuses to bless Namjoon with his presence. And that's not the plot of Cinderella. And I just like hearing his thoughts.

"Taehyung-ah's an open book," Namjoon states airily, like Yoongi isn't well-aware that Taehyung is about as vulnerable as they come. "You could just ask him his thoughts."

Not the same.

[Vante] Do you ever think about the what-ifs?

[Administrator: Suga] I don't know anyone who doesn't.

[Vante] I think about them a lot. I'm trying not to. I think I'm better now. I want to focus on the now, not so much what could have been.

[Vante] I'm tired of being sad.

A moment of pulsing silence and then, "Kid's pretty self-aware. Sure you can't just talk to him in person?"

Yoongi rolls to the side and finds Namjoon leaning back in his seat with his feet propped on the desk. He shifts them so they're not blocking his face, sends Yoongi this intentional Look. Like Yoongi is being ridiculous. Like Yoongi should take a hint. Like Yoongi is acting like a coward but Namjoon is too sweet to say it so blatantly to his face.

[Administrator: Suga] I'm tired of being sad, too.

[Administrator: Suga] Maybe we can work on it together.

That evening when he's leaving the radio station, Yoongi finds Taehyung perched on top of the stair ledge of the music building holding Hatshepsut, who is wearing a knitted yellow stocking cap.

"Hyung," Taehyung greets him, looking a little flustered, like he hadn't expected to see Yoongi here. And maybe he hadn't, but Yoongi softly wishes that maybe Taehyung was waiting here just in case they might meet again.

"One of the fiber majors knitted it for her," Taehyung explains without Yoongi having to ask, just as he always seems to do. "Surprisingly she likes it."

Taehyung gently pins her in place so that Yoongi can pat her back a few times without risk of losing his fingers.

I like the yellow. It's cute, Yoongi writes to him thoughtlessly, because that's not a statement that should need any extra consideration; except that Taehyung has gone still and Yoongi lifts his head to check on him, finds Taehyung with his chin ducked in towards his chest.

His very yellow chest.

Because he's wearing the lumpy yellow sweater again.

The lumpy yellow sweater that makes him look like a frumpy ball of sunshine.

Every molecule inside of Yoongi cringes, and he bites his lip, brainstorming how to fix this—this—

What is this? What are they doing?

Wanna grab dinner?

Taehyung peeks at Yoongi's screen and his eyes go impossibly wide. "It's almost ten? I ate three hours ago?"

Is that a no?

Taehyung shakes his head so earnestly his beanie dislodges and slips up his head. Yoongi lifts a hand to pull it back down over Taehyung's left ear, then carefully combs a few strands of hair back into place.

Taehyung, so minutely Yoongi almost second guesses it, leans into his touch, then sends Yoongi what appears to be his most charming smile. The one that makes his eyes curl up prettily. The one that Yoongi cannot resist.

It's absolutely blinding, so when Taehyung says resolutely, "Let's get dinner, hyung," Yoongi bites his lip hard and nods, like Taehyung is the one who suggested it to begin with.

They stick to street stalls this time, flitting between fishcake and dumplings and butter baked scallops. All the while Taehyung talks about his day, what he learned in ethics and the paper mâché sun mask he finally got around to painting and his adolescent psych teacher that loves him and his psych law teacher who always tries to make him feel stupid. When Taehyung talks like this, freely and about the things he's passionate about, his entire being just glows. It's enamoring. It's alarming. It's like walking beside a star.

Yoongi wants to touch him so bad he keeps lifting his thumb to his mouth to bite just so he does something with his hands.

"Sorry," Taehyung suddenly breaks a while later, after they've eaten and peeked into a small gallery and made two rounds along the perimeter of a dimly lit park Yoongi's never frequented before. "I'm talking too much again. Sorry."

Yoongi feels pinprickly warmth spread up his spine as Taehyung slips off his beanie to run his fingers through the front of his hair; but it doesn't feel nice, it doesn't feel good, and when Taehyung kicks a foot against a stray stone on the sidewalk, Yoongi reaches to hold him in place, pulling him to a stop.

Taehyung frowns but waits patiently as Yoongi types out, Stop apologizing. I love listening to you talk. Tell me more?

Taehyung reads the screen again and again and again. Yoongi knows because he watches Taehyung's eyes jump from each word, back and forth and back.

And then Taehyung closes his eyes, sighs deeply, "You can't do that to me, hyung," in this strangely twisted voice.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. Did he say something wrong?

Dead leaves rustle across the concrete. Somewhere out of sight along the park path a dog barks, another answers. There's the constant hum of traffic in the distance, back towards the main road where they came from. There's sound, there's always sound for him, but this is the kind of silence that Yoongi finds he doesn't know how to pick apart.

I don't know how to read you, Yoongi tells Taehyung in his mind. Please tell me what to say.

When the quiet has grown too large, Yoongi tugs on Taehyung's sleeve.

Taehyung breathes in deep and finally looks at Yoongi, his eyes beautiful and dark, and Yoongi, momentarily stunned by that look, suddenly thinks this is it, this is it, this is it.

Instead Taehyung presses a hand hard against his forehead and mouths, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Startled, Yoongi laughs. Well, his own version of laughing. Open mouth, scrunched eyes, little breathy sounds escaping hear and there. Hoseok calls it his goblin laugh, less cackle and more air, though. Namjoon said it sounds like he's coughing up something he got caught in his throat. Both are equally repulsive comparisons, but when Yoongi calms down and runs a hand over the back of his neck, tugging at the almost too long strands there, he opens his eyes and finds Taehyung watching him, gaze wandering Yoongi's face, as if looking at him for the first time.

Yoongi remembers Taehyung feeling so far away, once. Someone unreachable. Someone only meant for him to look at it, never to touch.

He'll want more than you can give. They always do.

But here Taehyung is, so sweet and kind and full of love for everyone he meets and everything he sees. Always vulnerable, always open, always with his heart on his sleeve, in his mouth, laid bare. A mess. A beautiful, wonderful mess that leaves Yoongi in a state of constant awe.

I'm a mess too, Yoongi thinks, reaching to skim the top of Taehyung's cheekbone where a stray eyelash rests. I'm a mess too, so why can't I be bright and shining and hopeful and beautiful?

Yoongi blows on the tip of his finger and Taehyung smiles then, wide and dreamy.

He'll want more than you can give.

Then why is he still here?

They head home after that. Taehyung walks him the whole way again, this time without the story-telling and only the sounds of the city as company. They don't hold hands, but Yoongi steps closer to Taehyung because it's an impulse at this point, to be near him, to be close.

You sound like some kind of Elizabethan romance novel, Hoseok signs in exasperation to him from the doorway of Yoongi's bedroom, and Yoongi clutches a pillow to his chest and frowns.

Did I ask for your opinion? He signs grudgingly.

Hoseok, with absolute certainty, signs, Yes. Yes you did. That is why I'm here. Putting up with your angsty, longing ass while my bath water goes cold and delaying my sexting session with Joon.

Yoongi stares for a few seconds. Hoseok stares back. Yoongi signs without blinking, It's not Elizabethan, it's Victorian. Jane Austen and shit.

Hoseok, also with a purposeful stare, signs, You hang out too much with Joon.

You're his boyfriend, Yoongi promptly responds.

I draw lines, Hoseok signs like Yoongi should know better. British literature is one of them. You should do the same.

You're terrible.

Hoseok pouts and signs defensively, You know how hot I thought it was when he ended the photography fiasco? And I let him talk about nautical archeology and space adventure and gender identity whenever he wants.

What's Namjoon's emphasis again?

I honestly don't know anymore.

~~~

"Good morning, Konkuk University youth. Pumpkin spice has officially disappeared off the campus café menu, and you know what that means: warm weather will soon save us from this barren hellscape, and Valentine's Day is a thing that very much so exists between couples, so please share what I should do for my partner who does not like surprises, candy, wine or romantic evening walks by the river because to them it is, and I quote, 'tits freezing outside you moron', unquote. Your help is greatly appreciated."

Yoongi sputters around the mouth of his water bottle, then gestures for Namjoon to watch his mouth because he may be cute (especially after dyeing his hair the softest shade of lavender last week), but their supervisor already issued a warning to them this year for language when Namjoon got into a particularly heated discussion (with himself) about Marxism and minimum wage and the (rightful) fall of post-war capitalism.

When there's a song safely rolling in the background, Yoongi pulls out his phone to text Namjoon, Just go shopping or something. Hobi loves shopping. Be his sugar daddy. It's his birthday the next week, anyway.

"We're on a budget," Namjoon intones dolefully across the room, and Yoongi knows he's purposefully avoiding the sugar daddy statement. "And I'm a romantic, but a romantic on a budget. You know Hoseok's tastes."

Can't believe he bought those fucking shoes.

"I would have burned them by now if they weren't the same cost of sponsoring a child in Ecuador for a year."

Yoongi grins at that and hears Namjoon chuckling from behind his computer.

Wanna tell me how you really feel?

"I don't know what you're referring to," Namjoon exclaims stiffly, hand pressed over his heart. "I love one Jung Hoseok with all my heart, mind and soul and have never had a problem with him in my life." Yoongi wads up a paper from the already used script and tosses it at Namjoon. It thwunks against his shoulder, and Namjoon pretends to be mortally wounded and accidentally falls out of his seat without trying.

He lays there for a few moments (probably contemplating his existence and how it led him to this moment and why his body seems hellbent on offing him before he's done something with life beside school), and then he crawls back into his seat. "Nah, it's really okay," he waves offhandedly, like the chair thing didn't happen. (Yoongi got it on video. He'll share it in the wee hours of the morning when Namjoon thinks he's safe). "I think we're going to see a movie at one of those dine-in theaters with the fancy reclining chairs. And I already bought his birthday present. What about you?"

Yoongi checks the playlist. They've still got another chorus and the outro, then the song after. What about me?

"Valentine's Day," Namjoon says, rubbing his elbow. "I realize you're not on board with the whole commercial holiday thing, but have you thought about what you're going to do?"

To Valentine's Day?

"On Valentine's Day. With Taehyung-ah."

Yoongi's pen digs in so deep on his notebook he tears a hole in the top corner. He rolls to the side so that he has a full view of Namjoon, so that Namjoon can see the absolute befuddlement that has currently left Yoongi in metaphorical speechlessness.

Namjoon just frowns at him, says "Hoseok said you went on a date the other night."

It wasn't a date, Yoongi signs quickly.

The frown grows. "Not a date as in you're doing that thing where you pretend you don't have feelings, or not a date as in it really wasn't a date and was just a meal between two friends and Hoseok got too invested again?"

That one.

"Huh." Yoongi nods. Namjoon nods, does that Deep Soft Stare where he tries to read someone's soul and usually succeeds because then he asks, "Did you want it to be a date?"

Yoongi rolls back to hide behind his monitor.

You and Hoseok are soulmates. Definitely cut from the same star.

"Wow, that's sweet hyung," Namjoon gushes. "I know you meant it as an insult, but it was really poetic."

Why am I friends with you again?

"Because you love me."

That's definitely not it.

"Because I kept you alive during your undergrad career by feeding you protein shakes and small words of encouragement left on Kunamon post-it notes?"

Yoongi peeks around his computer just to flip Namjoon off, and Namjoon winks at him and he's too fucking cute for his own good. All Yoongi's friends are adorable. Makes it really difficult to hate them.

Still can't believe that was you, Yoongi signs, scowls, rolls out of view when Namjoon's dimples peek out with his smile.

"You'll never get rid of me, hyung," Namjoon tells him as the song begins to fade. "I'm too invested in your livelihood."

At least someone is, Yoongi signs jokingly, and Namjoon kind of laughs and kind of frowns and then shuffles over to give Yoongi one of the top Most Awkward Hugs of My Life because Yoongi is still seated and Namjoon has to lean over and just drapes his body against Yoongi's head and shoulders. There isn't even holding, just the entire weight of Namjoon's being squishing Yoongi into his chair.

But still, Yoongi doesn't push him away, just taps his fingers against Namjoon's hip like it holds an answer he doesn't know how to say.

~~~

"Yoongi-yah, how's the music coming along?"

Dr. Lim is pleasant per usual, still with those soft eyes and the no-nonsense business suit. She's leaning against her desk again, arms loose at her sides, the image of ease. Like she didn't just ask Yoongi a Very Important Question.

It's coming, Yoongi writes out to her on his whiteboard. I think so, that is.

"Want me to listen?" She asks after reading over his words. "Give some pointers? You're the only graduate this year who hasn't checked in for feedback."

She states it casually, like it's not a big deal but Yoongi knows it's a big deal. His first check in point should have been at the end of the winter term; but December came and went in a flurry of unexpected happenings, and here they are two months later. Opus-less.

I don't know if it's ready for that yet, he tells her.

I don't know if I'm ready for that yet, he doesn't say.

Dr. Lim hums a little under her breath, trilling a melody with her nails against the edge of a binder. Yoongi counts the tempo, gets so lost in the movement that he flinches when Dr. Lim finally says, "Remember, the worst thing you can do with your art is treat it like a child." Yoongi flicks back to her, the questions bubbling up, and Dr. Lim smiles kindly and says, "It's a living thing, yes, but you need to be able to cut it up and shift things around and maybe throw it out altogether."

Yoongi picks at the skin around his fingernails, writes, Should I be less attached?

"No. Definitely not," she states fiercely, shaking her head. "The best work comes from the heart. But be ready to let it change if it needs to. Be ready to let it grow."

Yoongi feels his breathing go shaky, and he nods and bows and ducks into the hall even though their conversation might not have been over because he feels unsteady on his feet.

Let it grow, let it change, let something new in.

Let someone new in.

~~~

Yoongi goes back to the concert hall.

It's not a Sunday morning. He hasn't requested the space. There's a handyman fixing a seat in the far back corner of the auditorium when he walks in, but other than that the room is so clear and quiet Yoongi can hear his heart beating in his left ear.

He sits at the Steinway, pulls out the scratched-up notes he penned down the other day, after his not-date with Taehyung, and he tentatively taps out a few keys and glances up to where the man from before is still hunched over his work, oblivious to Yoongi's plight.

Yoongi pushes away the fear of someone walking in to hear him, shoves down the insecurity rushing through him in quick hot flashes, so sharp it makes his fingers tremble.

Instead he remembers that night. How, for once, Yoongi's mind was completely silent and it didn't feel like a bad thing, didn't feel like there was something there to fill.

Yoongi presses down on a few chords, hesitantly at first, then with more surety as he continues to think about Taehyung and his limitless imagination and knowledge, the unselfconscious way he presents himself to the world, the way he seems to feel things with his entire body.

I used to be like that once, Yoongi thinks as the sound around him builds and builds and builds as he not only forgets he's not alone in the room, but also begins to stop caring because Taehyung is beautiful. Taehyung is so beautiful he deserves to have songs and plays and books and movies and every practical form of art written about him, for him, and even then it still wouldn't be enough. Taehyung is so good and deserves so much, but more importantly—

Yoongi stills when he hears someone calling his name, and he tilts his body towards the front entrance and finds Namjoon standing there with Jimin, and even with an entire auditorium separating them, Yoongi can feel their buzzing smiles from here.

Yoongi breathes in deeply, feels his posture relax, his fists uncurling from when he clenched up at the sight of them. Because Taehyung is beautiful, inside and out. Yoongi's very aware of this fact.

But Yoongi also knows this:

That Namjoon's soul is so sweet and warm and he lives as much of this life as he can despite how much it's hurt him.

That Jimin is a swell of emotion, his smile stupefying, his love for others unreserved and uncontained.

Sweetness aches somewhere behind Yoongi's ribs, and as the two of them make their way down the carpeted steps towards the stage, towards him, Yoongi tap tap taps against his thighs and then wonders what he has to be afraid of, because it's certainly not of them.

So Yoongi begins to play again. Not the song scribbled down before him, not the light, saccharine tinkling from before. It's shy at first, and then it's suddenly something wilder, fearless; something a little less like a love song and a little more like a song about love.

Oh how Yoongi missed the feeling of music in his bones, and when he comes to a halt a lifetime later and pivots to look at Namjoon and Jimin seated in the front row below him, the smiles hidden behind their hands tell him that they missed it, too.

~~~

Yoongi has been accident-free in all his piano classes since the Unmentionable Day last semester, but the damage was irreversible.

The first month after it happened, he got a few classmates coming up to ask him for pointers, of which he willingly gave because music is a form of art and art is meant to be shared.

(Remember: Misanthropic? Most definitely. An asshole? Only purposefully and on dire occasions.)

News then spread around that Demon Min Yoongi isn't as malicious as the department anticipated. In fact, if you bring him iced coffee and a scone, he might even make eye-contact and Not Frown in your general direction and tell you how to fix the B section you've been crying over for three weeks.

Six years. Yoongi's been building his rep for six years and somehow it crumbled in the span of a midterms week.

"You really didn't have that much of a rep", Seokjin tells him on the walk to the café. "Everyone knows you're soft. Like a stray cat. You want to pet it but know you shouldn't because it probably has rabies but it's still a cat, you know?"

No, Yoongi frowns, burrowing his hands in his coat pockets because that's where they belong in the dead of winter. Thank god for Seokjin's astounding lip-reading skills. None of that made sense?

Seokjin, who runs the temperature of a Norwegian sauna year-round and wears coats simply as fashion statements and not as protection against the elements, says to him kindly, "Even if you had a rep, which you never did my sweet bean, you immediately lost it as soon as you started hanging with Taehyung-ah."

What does that mean?

"Taehyung-ah's a little bumble bee boy," Seokjin explains. "He's Pure. Capital P. You hang out with him you also become a bumble bee boy by default."

Yoongi, with as much sincerity as he can place into three syllables, mouths, What the fuck?

"People see you with Taehyung and know that if Taehyung-ah Chose you, then you're safe. Feral cat isn't all that feral. Safe to pet."

So Taehyung killed my street cred?

The more Yoongi's brows furrow, the brighter Seokjin's gaze grows. "Oh darling Yoongichi," he coos, reaching to place a hand on Yoongi's shoulder, "you never had any. Namjoon-ah is your best friend. Sweet, sweet Namjoonie. God's chosen Best Boy. The human equivalent of being swaddled in blankets during a light rain shower in the soft, misty morning of spring. He says goodnight to all his succulents before he goes to bed. That Namjoon. Don't even get me started on Jimin."

Jimin and I hate each other.

"Shut up, Yoongi, you've been married for thirty-seven years."

Seokjin gives a solid pat to his arm and then delves into his plans to seduce one of the regulars who comes into the café every Tuesday and Thursday morning to order a mixed berry muffin and vanilla latte and definitely makes three figures a year.

(How do you know he makes three figures?)

("The shoes, Yoongi-yah. It's all in the shoes.")

The one who looks like Hyun-Bin? Yoongi mouths as Seokjin holds the door to the café open for him.

"No, I went out with him," Seokjin says with a frown and a non-committal hand gesture. "He was twenty minutes late, had the personality of a half-chewed pencil, and had the audacity to try and order me a salad. Prick. I ordered three lobsters and then slipped out when he was in the bathroom. This is the Ji Changwook wannabe."

The one with the dimples?

"That's the one," Seokjin grins, sending Yoongi double finger guns. "Love me a man with dimples."

"Hey, hyungs."

Seokjin and Yoongi swivel to see Namjoon tucked into an armchair, taking up two tables with his laptop and notes and a couple textbooks with a terrifying amount of color-coded post-it notes sticking out from the tops. He gives them a half-lidded, sleepy smile, the left side of his mouth crinkling up a little higher so that a dimple shows up deeply.

"Namjoonie," Seokjin exclaims, charging forward to drape himself across Namjoon's lap in a move that Yoongi deems as suspicious because Seokjin only initiates physical contact when he's trying to hide something. "Hello, my gorgeous grape boy. Wanna back me up on my thesis?"

Namjoon frowns, arms slightly raised at his sides, like he's afraid to touch Seokjin's body. Most people are. There's a lot going on there. "You have a thesis?"

Seokjin clears his throat, enunciates clearly while throwing an arm around Namjoon's neck, "Min Yoongi never had a menacing reputation among his peers, and since he started courting Sunshine Line Number Three, one Kim Taehyung, he has turned even more so into a honey dumpling, too soft for this world. In this essay I will—AAHGHGHHH."

(Here's how the scene plays out: Yoongi plucking an ice cube out of Namjoon's iced coffee with a spoon, and as Seokjin suspiciously eyes Namjoon's lips, drops the ice cube down Seokjin's shirt. Mass flailing ensues. Namjoon has to hold Seokjin before he topples to the floor and kicks over a table.)

"HOLY FU-dgery goodness wow, love me some fudge, ain't that right boys," Seokjin grins while clinging to Namjoon's thigh as a mother and her two kids exit the shop with a box of cupcakes, and Seokjin keeps up the beatific smile until the door shuts behind them and then promptly crawls out of Namjoon's lap to dunk his bare hand into Namjoon's coffee.

Namjoon is a wonderful mixture of bewildered and disgusted, and Yoongi drops his bag and races for the front counter as Seokjin shrieks from behind something about backstabbing and the fall of the Roman Republic. "In my own house!" Yoongi hears as he skids and ducks under the closed section of the counter. "The treachery! The betrayal!"

Yoongi, in shortest terms, runs into a wall.

Except the wall kind of wheezes, rocks in place a little, and then wraps its arms around Yoongi's waist to hold him in place as they teeter precariously for the longest half second of Yoongi's life.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi freezes at the voice, at the scent of cinnamon, and by the time he comes to his senses, Seokjin's already on him, one hand pulling on the back of his shirt to dump a handful of fresh ice there.

Blame it on muscle spasm or not, but Yoongi pushes out all the air from his chest and rocks up against Taehyung, flailing and twisting just enough to knock an elbow into Taehyung's face.

There's blood.

There's a lot of blood.

"I'm okay!" Taehyung exclaims as Yoongi forces them to the ground, hands full as he pushes back Taehyung's bangs to check his face, using the edge of his sleeve to press against Taehyung's nose. Seokjin's babbling overhead and someone else shouting something about towels and ice and "where the flying fuck is the first aid-kit? Namjoon-hyung, where's the first-aid kit!" and then "In the upper left cupboard, Jimin-ah!".

"Yunki hunb," Taehyung whines behind Yoongi's hand, then grips both of Yoongi's wrists to tug his arms down. "Hyung, I'm fine. Calm down."

Fine, fine, fine. Taehyung is fine.

Yoongi leans back on his heels to give Taehyung some space, signs hastily, Broken nose? Broken tooth? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.

Taehyung is pitched forward, has one hand pinching the bridge of his nose as the other reaches for the towel that one of the girls from the back has produced. He watches Yoongi's hands, though, as Yoongi starts to sign more and more furiously, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, are you okay? I hurt you, I'm so sorry, is it broken?

Taehyung squints at him, his face all sweet and confused, and then he tosses the bloodied towel down and tugs Yoongi into a hug so that his hands are trapped between their chests, immobile.

"You didn't do anything wrong, hyung," Taehyung whispers near the shell of his ear, squeezing tight, and for the first time Yoongi's muscles grow tense under his touch. From his chest to his feet, everything is twisted. "I'm okay. Promise."

This isn't a big deal. It is, but it isn't. People get nosebleeds. Yoongi's overreacting. Yoongi's being dramatic. Yoongi needs to flee, but Taehyung has him pinned in place and this is bad, this is bad, this is bad.

Yoongi's chest heaves like he's crying, and Taehyung must feel it because he pulls away just enough to check Yoongi's face, must find something there that's startling because he falls away immediately to give Yoongi space.

"I-I'm sorry, I should have asked," Taehyung stutters out. His nose is still dripping and his chin is stained the color of a tomato and it suddenly strikes Yoongi then, the scent of blood.

Yoongi looks down to where his sleeves are damp and cold against his wrists, skin dyed pink, feels himself losing it, losing it, losing it.

A hand on his shoulder, under his armpit, heaving him up. Namjoon, pulling him in, wrapping Yoongi up his arms, so firm and solid he can't move, can't breathe, can't think.

"Come back, hyung," Namjoon speaks lowly, rocking them back and forth and back and forth, humming a little under his breath as he swipes his palm over Yoongi's shoulder blades. "You're here, not there. Come back home."

Yoongi knows this. That it is a Wednesday afternoon in February. That he is in the café, safe and surrounded by his best friends and yet—

"Come back, hyung," Namjoon's voice echoes, and Yoongi feels trapped and ashamed and foggy and he wants all the words to stop rattling around in his head and suddenly—

He's there, on a street corner a block from school on a hazy, hot day in August. The sky an incongruously shade of blue.

Yoongi stares at it for a moment, this cloudless expanse of color stretched above him, then turns when he hears laughter to the side. Jungkook. Jungkook, face crinkled up as he giggles at whatever Jimin just told him on the phone. Jungkook, pretty and bright and unknowing.

"Hyung," Jungkook says eagerly, eyes lighting up. "Hyung, do you want to go to—"

A hand catches Yoongi's arm, pulling him back, and Yoongi's thrown to the ground and the heels of his hands burn from skidding across the sidewalk and then—

"Hyu—back...Yoon—."

The sounds are the worst. Crunching metal, shattering glass, the unmistakable thud from a body. Someone screaming. Someone screaming. Someone screaming—

"—mory. This is—ry. Yoongi. Yoongi, this is—"

Jungkook screaming.

Then silence. Gargled frequency. Colors swirling past, like an old video tape, the kind he grew up with back home, being rewound double speed.

Yoongi heaves in a breath, opens his eyes, looks up and sees the immaculate blue sky.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Jungkook screaming again.

And again.

And again.

"—a memory. You're at home, hyung, this is a memory."

Yoongi shudders, heaves, digs a hand into the back of Namjoon's sweater and claws like he's trying to crawl out of his own mind.

"There you go, hyung. There you are," Namjoon whispers, still rocking, petting the back of his hair. "Come on, come on, come back. Just a memory, just a memory."

A memory and a nightmare can be the same thing, though.

When Yoongi fully returns to them, his eyes are warm and brimming over, still crying. Yoongi swallows hard, embarrassed now, bogged down by the reality that he just had a breakdown in public, in front of Taehyung, and over something as stupid as a little blood.

You hurt him, his mind whispers as Namjoon lets him go. You hurt everyone you care about.

"Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon snaps, his tone fierce, eyes unblinking. "You're okay. You're here with us. You're okay."

Yoongi nods, a small thing, his lower lip still trembling. Someone hugs him from behind, the lines of their bodies matching up, and Jimin whispers against his ear, "We love you, we love you, we love you."

Yoongi pats his hands where they've wrapped around his stomach, and they stand together for what feels like a long time, in the back of the kitchen where Namjoon must have shuffled them sometime during the episode.

He was doing so well. He was doing so well and then this happened and why? Why now, why him?

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut tight and just breathes in the scent of baking bread and roasted coffee and Jimin's sandalwood shampoo. Three things he loves. Three things he has, right here, in this moment.

Yoongi's not sure how long Jimin holds him but Namjoon finally says, "Let's watch a movie," and holds out a big hand for Yoongi to take. "We never finished the end of Planet Earth II."

They leave through the backdoor and Yoongi doesn't feel guilty about it because seeing Taehyung right now would just send him reeling. Instead they go back to Seokjin and Namjoon's apartment, and Namjoon makes them mint tea and lies with Yoongi under tangled up sheets as Netflix plays on the computer between their legs.

(They end up watching The Great British Baking Show because Yoongi couldn't handle the caribou calves being hunted by wolves.)

Yoongi falls asleep somewhere between puff pastry sausage rolls and the fruit and custard tarts. When he wakes it's to the sound of Seokjin singing Ariana Grande in the shower, morning light creeping in from the cracks in the blinds so everything is a little fuzzy at the corners, and Namjoon's arm wrapped around him like a blanket, like at some point during the night he had this unconscious urge to protect Yoongi from the darkness.

~~~

"They're called flashbacks. They're common in PTSD victims."

...

"A form of intrusive thoughts. An intense memory from the trauma."

...

"Can be activated by a trigger. A sound, a phrase, a smell."

...

"There are relaxation techniques we teach, to reduce the intensity and the frequency of the flashbacks over time."

...

"You're retraining your brain, Yoongi-ssi. It's hard work. It takes time."

~~~

Yoongi knows it takes time. But here's the thing, the thing they don't mention from the start:

The memories never go away. Yoongi, no matter how hard he fights, no matter how many sessions he has or psychologists he visits, will never be able to completely forget that day.

~~~

Here's the thing that Yoongi doesn't tell anyone:

He doesn't think he deserves to forget. Maybe that's why he's stopped trying.