Yoongi climbs out of bed that Thursday like a normal person, no rolling or crawling or flopping. He's groggy, and disoriented, and he can't feel the left side of his face because he's been sleeping on it for two days. All that is terrible, he feels terrible, but what pulls him from his room isn't the uncomfortable ache of disuse in his limbs or the dull rumble in his stomach from skipping meals— it's Hoseok's voice, jarring and shrieky and absolutely out of tune as he sings along to what might be a song off the soundtrack of a movie he saw with Jimin last week.

Yoongi fixes a stare at his door and doesn't try to tune out the noise. He listens to the unintelligible tangle of notes building up his head, inside his chest, and Yoongi looks down to his toes curled into the floorboards and wonders what the fuck he's been doing the past forty hours.

So he peels himself off the mattress, stands on wobbly legs, and scuttles across the hall into the bathroom where he submerges himself under a foamy mess of dissolved lavender bath bombs. The water cools quickly, but Yoongi lies there until his skin feels tight and the sludge of depression has visibly been cleansed from his body.

Hoseok is dancing in the kitchen when he leaves the safety of the bath. There's no music, just the sound of his light feet padding and sweeping across the tile as he preps lunch. When he spots Yoongi he stills. Flails. Knocks their juicer off the counter and dives out of sight behind the counter to catch it.

Yoongi scurries over and finds Hoseok with the machine clutched in both hands and his face pressed into the floor.

For a short moment Yoongi watches him, heart pounding in his ears, and like a bulb flickering back to life, Hoseok's hiccupy giggles start to tumble into the room.

Yoongi catches onto it and he curls against the counter, laughing so hard his sides are splitting and all the misery that's been burrowing between his ribs the past few days, the past few weeks, spills out and disappears on the morning air.

~~~

Jungkook finds him in a studio that evening. After catching up on the work he missed in class yesterday, Yoongi's now attempting to piece together the bits and bobs of almost songs he's been saving over the past several weeks. He's stuck on a particularly troubling bridge. The progression is too jarring where he currently has it placed, but he can't seem to find the transition to make it fit anywhere else.

"Hyung."

Yoongi finishes tapping out a few notes and swivels dramatically, a great big gusty sigh bursting out of him when he catches Jungkook's eye.

Jungkook giggles and steps over the sheets of paper littering the floor. When he's close enough, he reaches for Yoongi's hand. Yoongi melts into it without thinking, allows Jungkook to swing their arms a little as he speaks.

"Are you busy Saturday?"

Yoongi watches as Jungkook's hand seems to tremble, and he shakes his head no, waits while Jungkook gathers his thoughts. It seems like his mind is tripping over something.

"Would you like to go to a photography exhibit with me?" He finally says, and Yoongi squeezes once and draws his hand back to sign,

A gallery? Since when do you like going to social events?

Jungkook scrunches his nose up. "It's for school. Do you want to go? It's okay if you don't."

Yoongi shakes his head, signs, No, it sounds fun. What time?

"Five?" Yoongi nods and Jungkook's hands are still shaking. "I'll pick you up at five. And maybe we can go to dinner after?"

Trying to mooch a meal, Yoongi smirks, watching in delight as a slight flush spreads up Jungkook's neck.

"I'll pay this time."

Don't worry about it. I like taking care of you.

Yoongi sees the surprise cross his face, but the corner of Jungkook's mouth begins to curl up. His voice catches when he says, "Dress nice, okay?"

You don't have to tell me that. Haven't you worn that hoodie three times this week?

"I wash it," Jungkook grumbles, almost too soft to hear, and Yoongi barks out the breath of a laugh that makes Jungkook's shoulders rise with his smile.

Jungkook leaves after threatening to send Jimin his way if he finds out Yoongi holed himself up in here until midnight again. He follows through on it when a quick and brutal stream of taps berates his door four hours later and Jimin barges in with an aggressive hug, an extra scarf, and a sour expression to drag him home.

"You can't keep ghosting us," he says at the foot of the stairs to Yoongi's building, and Yoongi glances down at his scuffed up boots, face warm with shame and embarrassment and maybe a bit of affection. "I love you too much to let you ferment alone in your bedroom."

Yoongi scoffs at that, a throaty breath, and Jimin rolls his eyes and slugs a fist against his shoulder and tugs him into another fierce hug that Yoongi curls in to.

Yoongi places his palm against the flat of Jimin's back. Writes with a steady finger, I love you. I'm sorry.

Jimin just hiccups and squeezes him tighter.

~~~

Yoongi's never been great at speaking to people.

Obviously he's got some things going against him (social anxiety, fear of abandonment, he's fucking mute); but Yoongi wonders if, even if he had been able to speak to people growing up, even if he could just pick up a phone to order takeout or didn't have to write his answers down on a whiteboard in class, if it would really make any difference.

Hoseok doesn't have a problem communicating. The worst that happens to him is that his hands fly too fast for Namjoon and Seokjin to follow sometimes. Hoseok, perky and bright and kind and in love with the world, doesn't see a problem with his deafness. Acts like he's never had a problem with it even though Yoongi was there with him through freshman year when his classmates were set on proving that people can be cruel for no other reason than because they can.

Yoongi watches Hoseok now, as he flits across the room, eyes closed and feet light as he sways and pops in time with the music that's pulsing through the walls, the bass line so thick it could cause an earthquake on the other side of the world. Jimin moves with him at a slightly tilted speed, smooth where Hoseok is sharp, and Yoongi tucks his knees under his chin and watches them idly as they dance.

Everyone is doing so well, so why isn't he? Why can't he just open up and move on? Why can't he just talk to people?

The music swarms him. Yoongi can feel the vibrations through the concrete under his legs, spreading through his body and making his spine tingle. His teeth tear at the skin on the inside of his thumb, and Namjoon reaches to pull his hand down, twine their fingers together.

Yoongi's chest quakes, and he strangles the feeling that he needs to flee, needs to pull away— because this is Namjoon. Namjoon, who has been taking care of him since before they even knew each other's names. Namjoon, who would never hurt him, who would never try to speak over him. Namjoon, who is using his thumbs to rub small circles against the tender parts of Yoongi's wrists, the spots that ache when he's played for too long.

How do I tell him? , Yoongi finally asks, and Namjoon, eyes kind and hands gentle, says sweetly, "Hyung, just tell him."

So Yoongi texts Taehyung, asking when his next free block is. He could ask Jimin, Jimin most definitely knows everyone's schedule; but if he asks Jimin then Yoongi has the opportunity to back out, and this isn't something he can keep avoiding. Not without destroying a few relationships.

Yoongi also wants to give Taehyung a chance. Chances. A chance to prepare himself. Have questions ready. Sort out his feelings.

A chance to turn him away.

Tae [8:32pm]

Hi hyung. I work at the library tomorrow 2-6. Meet end of my shift?

Yoongi Hyung [8:35pm]

Okay.

Tae [8:36pm]

Take me out to dinner?

Yoongi Hyung [8:36pm]

Okay

Yoongi shows up early enough that by the time Taehyung appears at the top of the library steps, his nose is a little frigid and his heart has had enough downtime to build itself back up into a panicked rhythm. Taehyung himself doesn't help at all. He's soft today. Loose trousers and big sneakers and a coat that swallows him whole. A red beret, the brightest item on him for once, because his smile is small and tentative when he comes to rest beside Yoongi.

"Hi, hyung."

It's been days since Yoongi last heard his voice. This time when Yoongi employed the "Avoid Tae At All Costs" mission, he actually followed through. He hasn't left the apartment since his breakdown. Not until today.

No one's been angry at him even though he's been difficult, which makes it all the worse. Because if they're not upset, then that means they're sad for him, which is infinitely worse.

Yoongi nods in greeting but can't bring his gaze up from Taehyung's clunky tennis shoes. He wonders if this is Taehyung's version of harried. Yoongi's never seen him in anything but runway boots and leather loafers.

"Wanna head out?"

Yoongi nods again, another small thing, and Taehyung hums under his breath and heads for the front gate. Yoongi trails after, just a little behind him, expecting Taehyung to make small talk and therefore thrown when ten minutes passes in silence. It's not their easy kind, either, and by the time they make it to the ramen restaurant, Yoongi feels like a brick has wedged itself into his throat. He's choking on his own breath.

The auntie from before seats them in the same corner. Last time they were here, Yoongi was so warm inside he thought he'd melt into his chair. Tonight, as they remove their coats, Yoongi's tempted to crawl under the table and establish some real estate down there.

They don't speak. Not as they look over the menu, or when they order, or between the time it takes for the waiter to bring them out their meals. Taehyung's settled into his seat and is casually blowing on a steaming spoonful of broth, picking at the side-dishes here and there. Yoongi is hunched over his lap, his airway so clogged that tears are starting to prick the corner of his eyes.

"Hyung."

Yoongi closes his eyes and heaves in a breath.

"Yoongi-hyung, can I hold your hand?"

Yoongi startles, glances up, and finds Taehyung with his arm stretched across their small table with his palm facing up. Yoongi stares at it for long enough that Taehyung begins to draw away, the start of an apology pricking is mouth, and Yoongi's hand shoots out so quick to hold on to him that Taehyung drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a tiny exclamation.

His ears are searing, but Yoongi holds onto Taehyung's hand for most of the night. When the waiter comes by to refill their drinks, Taehyung drops his arm to pull their twined fingers out of sight, and Yoongi breathes through his nose as Taehyung holds their hands against his thigh where they remain as they finish eating.

They break apart to pay. Put their coats on. Drift back into the chilled February air. Taehyung once again takes off on his own accord, and Yoongi shuffles quietly beside him for a block, then two, then three.

Yoongi wonders how long they're going to keep this up before Taehyung's pausing in front of another storefront. It's inconspicuous at first glance, with just a small wooden sign and a single strand of white Christmas lights lining the front window. Yoongi'd probably pass by it on a normal day. Yoongi probably has passed by it, but Taehyung instead is opening the door for him to go inside, and Yoongi steps under his arm to pass through and breathes in the heavy scent of coffee beans and hazelnut.

There's a woman in a dark green apron manning the front counter. A few couples are dotted around the small front room. Taehyung doesn't take them up to order, though, or to join the others. Instead he weaves around the sofas and tables and heads for an open doorway in the back. Yoongi scrambles after, curious, and finds himself in a book shop of sorts, the walls filled from head to toe with old and new volumes alike.

Taehyung's waiting for him on a plush velvet sofa in one of the corners. He's removed his coat but not his hat and pats the cushions for Yoongi to join him. Yoongi could take a seat at the other end, but instead he sinks down right beside Taehyung. So that their thighs brush. So Yoongi can tap his foot against Taehyung's and Taehyung can tap back.

They sit there for a long time on that sofa, knee-to-knee-to-shoulder-to-shoulder. Yoongi picks at a loose thread in the seam of the cushion. Picks at the gnarled nail beds on his left hand.

The silence is screaming between them.

Yoongi digs his nails into his palms. Squeezes hard. Taehyung's hand, on his wrist, tap-tap-tapping to get him to let go before he breaks skin.

The breath shudders out of him, and Yoongi tugs out his phone and types hastily, That's enough.

Taehyung leans in to read. He says softly, "Enough of what, hyung?"

Whatever it is you're doing. You don't have to—Yoongi stops writing, phone tucked loosely into his palms, and Taehyung must take that as an invitation to read again. He frowns at the unfinished thought.

"Don't have to what, hyung?" Yoongi curls in a bit further and Taehyung says more gently, "Hyung, please tell me."

You don't have to be so careful with me, he writes and bites the inside of his cheek. Please don't be so careful with me.

Taehyung's quiet for a long time after he's done reading. His jaw is tight as he looks down at his lap, and Yoongi watches him closely because his face always gives away his thoughts. Taehyung is always so open with him, and Yoongi can read him now, can easily see the apprehension and wariness wrinkling his brow as he stares hard at his hands.

"I'm sorry," Taehyung says, slowly, as if he's still processing the words, "if the way I've been acting made you think I was trying to be careful with you. I don't think that. That you can't, y'know, handle yourself. I'm sorry."

Taehyung takes a deep breath, his entire body shifting with it. His dark eyes flick to Yoongi.

"But I have been trying to be careful," Taehyung says, unafraid to look him in the eye. "Not with you. Just... There are things I'd like to know, about you, but I don't want to push you into them. And I know I can be a bit much, so whenever I get scared of being..." Taehyung exhales through his nose and Yoongi's painfully reminded that Taehyung, as much as he loves to talk, truly struggles to speak at times. "Sometimes I think me being me does more harm than good, so I just decide to be quiet instead."

Anger flares up, blinding him. Who hurt you? Yoongi wants to ask. Who told you that you were too much? That you weren't enough? Who told you to be quiet? Fuck them. None of them matter, none of them matter.

Stillness settles over them, and Yoongi turns forward and buries his head in his palms, rubbing his eyes hard, trying to still his heart.

The cushions shift, and Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh when Taehyung's hand finds the back of his neck, tugging at the short strands of hair there.

Yoongi tilts his head to look over and Taehyung's waiting, looking hopefully at him, gaze vulnerable and open.

Yoongi pulls up his phone and writes.

And writes.

And writes.

I've been mute my whole life. Got sick when I was little. Never quite recovered. I've always been this way, and recently I've really been wondering if things would be better if I wasn't. I don't think they would, and that's hard. Being mute is hard, but I'm used to it. Min Yoongi; likes fine wines and the ocean, can't speak, has trouble with crowds. It's a just a thing. It's just a part of me.

The anxious buzzing in Yoongi's chest dies the moment Taehyung finishes reading and turns to him, watching him intently, eyes soft and serious as he says, "Tell me more, hyung. Please?"

So Yoongi does.

I met Hoseok my second year of college. We were roommates, eventually grew to be friends. I think he started dating Namjoon the winter of his second year, around the time that I started dating Jimin. Obviously only one of those couples lasted. Seokjin slipped in somewhere around there. Honestly can't remember how we met him. One day he was just hanging out at our apartment. And then Jungkook—

Yoongi stops typing. Taehyung, without hesitation, lays a hand on his thigh. Squeezes once.

Jungkook's a childhood friend of Jimin's. Met him at the start of my grad program. Bratty kid. Kind as can be. Fit in like there was a spot waiting for him. We got close quick. We all got close quick.

Yoongi's fingers twist and twitch. His head is begging him to stop, stop now, don't tell him anymore, things will change, he will change, he'll look at you the way they all do, leave him leave him leave him now. Leave him before he leaves you.

Yoongi's toeing the edge. His teeth sink into his lower lip and Taehyung waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He's not going anywhere.

It was spring, not last year, but the year before, Yoongi types out and feels Taehyung sink into his side. Jungkook and I were heading to lunch. We were about to cross the street and, I don't remember how it happened, but a car missed the red light. I didn't see it. Jungkook pushed me out of the way, took most of the impact. Traumatic brain injury is what they said. Busted his ear drums. He was completely deaf when he woke up. Doctors said there was nothing they could do. That he was lucky to be alive.

"Hyung," Taehyung says, no hesitation between the moment he finished reading and now. "Yoongi, hyung. Please tell me you don't think the accident was your fault."

Yoongi shrugs, shifting away from him. Maybe not. But I was the one who didn't watch the road. I was the one who should have been hit.

"Hyung—"

I see it happen, Yoongi mouths and tilts his head back. Taehyung leans into him, a reminder, and Yoongi taps into his phone, I see it all the time. Live through it again and again. The memory's always lurking there, waiting for me to forget so it can pop up again. Guess I deserve it. Jungkook was a singer. Always wanted to be a singer.

Yoongi doesn't tell Taehyung that they almost lost him, not once, but twice. That, when Jungkook was cleared to leave the hospital, they had a chart set up of shifts, weeks written out for who would spend the night with him. That it took months to get him to realize there was a life outside of music.

"Hyung. Hyung, look at me."

Yoongi blinks, coming back to himself. Jolts when he finds Taehyung crouched before him, hands on Yoongi's knees, gaze fierce when he says, "When I was eleven my mom left. Left me, I mean, at my grandparents. Didn't tell anyone. Just... left. Never came back. My dad left too, before I was born, because being a parent wasn't something on his to-do list. Like I said, I'm a bit much at times."

Yoongi's red hot, skin prickling up his spine as he twists his fingers in his lap. Taehyung reaches out to take one hand, then the other, and Yoongi's startled by how okay it is. He doesn't feel trapped.

"You have this look on your face," Taehyung says, a smile hidden there, like there's something funny happening right now. "Like you're angry."

I am angry, Yoongi mouths, and Taehyung seems to understand because he says,

"Because I'm blaming myself for something out of my control?"

Yoongi shakes his head. It's not the same.

Taehyung fingers press against his wrists, a comforting weight. He sits back on his heels, thinking for a bit, and then he looks up through his dark lashes that are still unnecessarily long. "Someone I really admire told me that I shouldn't make someone else's pain my own. That it gets hard to carry. I carried other people's pain for a long time, hyung. It almost killed me. Aren't you tired of being so sad all the time? Because I was."

Yoongi tenses, thinking back to all those weeks ago when he typed out that message.

Don't make someone else's pain your own. It gets hard to carry most days.

Yoongi shakes his wrists, asking to be let go, and Taehyung releases his hands only to put them back on Yoongi's thighs. Yoongi tries not to think about how big they are, how they seem to cover his whole leg.

I'm tired of being sad, Yoongi writes in his phone. Lingers. Taps out with a choked breath, Maybe we can work on it together.

Taehyung doesn't make any movement to show he recognizes Yoongi's words. Just smiles kindly and stands with a groan and takes Yoongi's hand again to pull him up.

They walk like that together to the bus stop, and Yoongi makes as if to say goodbye but Taehyung doesn't turn. Doesn't break away. Continues to hold his hand regardless of the stares aimed their way from a couple loners waiting nearby.

The bus comes. Taehyung holds Yoongi's hand.

They sit together in the back, away from prying eyes, and Taehyung holds Yoongi's hand.

Four stops later, they trail out the doors. Taehyung is still holding Yoongi's hand.

Yoongi's palm is sweating despite the winter chill, but Taehyung doesn't seem to mind. Taehyung doesn't seem to mind much of anything, really, and Yoongi wonders how he can be so blasé about the world. How someone so sensitive doesn't get so absolutely overwhelmed all the time.

Yoongi's always on the brink of sensory overload. Always at the cusp of feeling a little too much to be comfortable. People think he's cold, but what else are you supposed to do when there's so much happening inside?

"Hyung?"

Yoongi realizes he's stopped walking. Has let go of Taehyung's hand. Is currently gazing up at a starless sky like it holds all the answers he seeks.

I don't know how to be okay, Yoongi signs without looking to Taehyung. Please tell me how you're always so okay.

Taehyung covers the distance between them. This time, when he reaches for Yoongi's hand, there's the slightest hesitation. Like he's not sure if it's okay for him to touch anymore.

Yoongi threads their fingers together and gives a little tug to pull Taehyung in just a bit closer. Taehyung giggles as the begin to walk again, then says in a low voice, "I'm going to start taking classes for KSL."

Yoongi scoffs and then types out with one hand, Sure you are .

Taehyung makes an affronted noise. "You don't think I will?"

They're a block from Yoongi's apartment and Yoongi doesn't really want to have this conversation but feels like they kind of need to.

I can't even count how many people have said they were going to learn sign language for me , Yoongi writes. Because it's true. And he's not upset about it, not anymore.

"And they didn't?" Taehyung's eyes are narrowing again and Yoongi purses his lips because he didn't want to make Taehyung upset again.

Yoongi draws back his hand so he has both to type with. It's not a big deal , he writes. I can understand you just fine.

"Yeah, but that's not...It's like..." Taehyung slips off his beanie, musses his hair, then pulls the hat back on so it covers his ears. He speaks slowly, less like he's trying to get Yoongi to understand and more like he wants to make sure he's saying exactly what he wants to say. "Signing is your way of talking. It's your language. Why wouldn't I want to learn the language of a person I care about?"

Yoongi's stumbles, and Taehyung presses in against his side.

"Hyung, I think you're missing something here. I like..." Taehyung clears his throat. "I like talking to you. I like being around you. Whatever I can do to be closer to you, I'm going to do it. Whatever I can do to make our friendship stronger, I'm going to do it. Okay?"

Yoongi gives a small nod and Taehyung nudges his shoulder as they come to a stop outside of Yoongi's building. "Cool. Good talk. Now, home sweet home."

Thanks for walking me.

Taehyung shrugs, nonplussed. "Thanks for letting me walk you. Can I hug you, hyung?"

Yoongi breathes sharply through his nose, rolls his eyes, holds his arms out wide and wheezes when Taehyung wraps him up in a giggly embrace.

It's cute and possibly a little flirty; but then Taehyung's hands find his waist, and he starts to rock them back and forth and back, and Yoongi feels this great big ball of sludge settle in against his windpipe as Taehyung just continues to hold him, as Yoongi just allows himself to be held.

His eyes sting, and Yoongi reaches up to curl a fist into the back of Taehyung's jacket, and for the first time in a long time, Yoongi cries and doesn't feel ashamed about it.

~~~

Sleeping is easy. Yoongi's in a constant state of wanting to burrow under his comforter until spring arrives. When Yoongi crawls into his majestic marshmallow of a bed, he usually contemplates blowing off the day to remain there until the scorching rays of sun that slip between his blinds fade away and it's, once again, time to go back to bed.

Yoongi always wants to be sleeping, so why now, at the pinnacle midnight hour, is he itching to move?

Yoongi pulls his earbuds out. He's worked his way through two playlists and is now attempting some ocean white noise, but the breaking waves do nothing to draw him under.

His brain starts pitching ideas: Warm shower. Hot tea. Pace the living room. Take some melatonin. Don't take the temazepam. Read, but not from his phone. Write, again not on his phone. Go see if Hoseok is awake to talk. Don't wake up Hoseok, he'll start to worry if you need to start taking the temazepam again. Try rainforest sounds.

Yoongi chews on his nails, picks up his phone, and with his intestines slowly tangling up, he taps out a message.

Yoongi Hyung [12:08am]

Are you awake?

Before he can chicken out, he presses send and has to stop himself from flinging his phone across the room. Instead he flips onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillows, wishing he could be like those people in the movies who can just scream to let their feelings out so that they'll stop festering inside.

A minute goes by like that. His phone gives a little blip and Yoongi tosses over again to pull it out from under the sheets.

Tae [12:10am]

Yup! On my way home. What's up?

Yoongi's fingers dance around the keypad. What's done is done, so he hammers out the message and pushes send and crawls under his blankets to suffocate.

Yoongi Hyung [12:11am]

Can you call me?

Taehyung's name lights up his screen almost immediately.

"Hyung?" Taehyung's voice is even deeper on the phone. Holy fuck. "Is everything okay? Wait, obviously you can't answer that, ohmygod..."

Yoongi drags the screen over and opens up his messages.

Yoongi Hyung [12:12am]

Talk to me about your day?

There's a pause on the line and Taehyung's voice comes back echoed. "Are you texting me, hyung? Oh, that's nifty. Okay. Wait, let me put headphones in." Scrambling on his end of the line, and suddenly Taehyung's voice is close and warm in his ear again. "You want me to tell you about my day? Why?"

Yoongi Hyung [12:12am]

Just because

"Nothing's 'just because' with you, hyung."

Yoongi doesn't want to say that it's been eighteen hours since he's heard Taehyung's voice and he misses it. Misses him .

So he doesn't say anything, and when seconds drag into minutes, Taehyung hums a little and it's breathy against ear, sends chills up his arms.

"There's this little boy at a daycare we visit for class, Jinyoung, who totally has ADD but probably hasn't been diagnosed. Apparently he's had a really rough year in the classroom and none of the co-teachers have been making an effort to like, get to know him or help him out. They just treat him like a nuisance and threaten to send him to the director all the time to scare him into behaving and it fucking pisses me off. But today, Jinyoung started crying cuz one of the teachers scolded him in front of the class for not sitting still, but I took him outside and talked to him in the hall for like an hour and just listened to him, y'know, and I found out all these incredible things about him like how he wants to be an artist and has a kick-ass rock collection and an imaginary friend named Sun who is a walrus with one tusk and it was just so amazing, hyung, because he really opened up to me and trusts me now and all I had to do was treat him like a fucking human being with feelings and just—" Taehyung inhales, long and slow, and says in a quieter voice, "I really love my job, you know? Like it's hard, but I love it."

I like you, Yoongi mouths, closes his eyes, says it again and again and again to himself, to the ceiling and the carpet and his desk and the fake ficus in the corner of the room that Namjoon brought him to remind him to go outside sometimes.

"Hyung?"

I'm here, Yoongi types, curled in on his side, and Taehyung makes a soft sound of acknowledgement and starts talking about his trip to the grocery store and this concert he and Jimin want to go see in a few months and his grandma back in Daegu and something about giraffes or whales. His words become dreamlike, almost hypnotic, and Yoongi didn't even realize he might have been tired all this time until he wakes to the morning sun with a crick in his neck and a phone that only has two percent battery.

Yoongi coughs, clears his throat, kind of feels like something died in his mouth because he didn't brush his teeth last night. As he shuffles to the bathroom, he checks the string of messages he received sometime in the late hours.

All of them are from Taehyung.

hyung, did you fall asleep? The first one reads, and Yoongi stubs his toe on the doorframe and hisses.

Tae [12:48am]

you totally fell asleep I can hear u snoring

i can't believe you called me and then fell asleep

but you can call me again if u want

Tae [1:12am]

sweet dreams hyung

I missed talking to you too

Yoongi pauses with one hand on the medicine cabinet, and he reads the last message again and again until his screen dies.

There's a knock on the door, and Yoongi releases his bottom lip that he's been chewing on to keep from smiling and finds Hoseok leaning against the frame.

You're sooooo whipped, he signs then flees, fully expecting Yoongi to throw the nearest thing within reach at him that wouldn't cause excessive bodily harm. Which he does. It's a bar of soap.

Hoseok shrieks as the bar flings past his ear, and he shuffles out of the way so quick his shoulder catches on the doorframe and he stumbles face-first into the hall. Yoongi pales and rushes out after him, but his foot finds the soap and Yoongi feels the breath flee his body as he legs disappear from underneath him.

Hoseok's laughing spectacularly, and the two of them lie on the floor for a while after that, nursing bruised bones and clinging to one another until they can take full breaths again.

If me breaking my face is what it takes to make you laugh, I'd do it a thousand times over, Hoseok signs to him, hands raised in the air for him to see, eyes soft as he tilts his head to find Yoongi's gaze.

Yoongi swallows thickly and nods, understanding settling over him, and Hoseok groans and pats Yoongi's calf and hobbles off to the kitchen to start the day.

~~~

Namjoon breaches the subject again because it's kind of his job.

(Seokjin is the one Yoongi goes to when he wants to avoid life and Hoseok is the one who makes him laugh and Jimin is the one who pretends he doesn't care but actually probably cares the most and Namjoon is the one who gives it to him straight.)

"Hyung," Namjoon announces in The Tone, the one Namjoon takes about matters he's been mulling over for a long time that Yoongi probably doesn't want to hear about even though it's most likely going to be healthy for him. "I really think you should tell him who you are."

Bingo.

Not happening, Yoongi signs, deadpan.

Namjoon heaves in a sigh. "Well, I think he'll be upset when he finds out. Which he will. Because they always find out."

He's not going to find out.

Namjoon looks at him funny, and he sighs again and rolls out his shoulders and doesn't look at Yoongi when he says, "Jimin's bringing him by the studio in fifteen minutes with coffee. I think he's going to find out."

Yoongi sucks in a lungful of air so fast it chokes him, and Namjoon just shakes his head and mutters to himself as Yoongi scrambles for his phone.

Yoongs [8:06pm]

You're not coming by the studio with Taehyung are you?

Jiminie [8:06pm]

???

it was supposd to be a surprise!!!

Yoongi Hyung [8:07pm]

No. Go home. I don't want you here.

Jiminie [8:07pm]

well that's mean

and the Great Min Yoongi turning dowb free coffee??

Yoongi Hyung [8:09pm]

I'm serious Jimin. Don't bring Taehyung here.

Jiminie [8:09pm]

ohhhhh so /that's/ what this is about

def coming now

tae's real excited too

u dont wanna make tae sad do you???

Yoongi Hyung [8:09pm]

Does Taehyung know that I'm going to be here?

Jiminie [8:09pm]

u mean does he know your secret identiy??

nope

that's the surprise

Yoongi crumples in his seat and gestures wildly to get Namjoon's attention. Call Jimin, he signs. Explain the situation. He thinks I'm just being coy.

Namjoon blinks at him. "You are just being coy."

Yoongi stares at him, a little feral, and Namjoon shrinks under the stare. "Fine. Fine! Quit looking at me like that."

More grumbling, and Namjoon manages to dig out his phone from under his stacks of papers. He pouts at Yoongi and Yoongi's eyes slit. Namjoon scrunches his nose and looks away.

"Hey, Jiminie," he says, a little too loud so that Yoongi can hear. "Is Tae around? No? Okay cool, well hyung wanted me to call you and explain that he's been flirting with Taehyung over the radio station messenger app for months and now he knows who Taehyung is but Taehyung doesn't know who he is. Speaker phone? Okay."

Namjoon holds the phone away from his ear.

"Hyung!" Jimin whisper-shrieks. "What the hell!"

"He's rolling his eyes," Namjoon dolefully intones. "Continue."

"I knew Tae was smitten with the radio program but I didn't realize it was because he's been sexting Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi sinks into his chair. His spine is a sponge. He can't support his own body weight. This is so exhausting. Having friends is so exhausting.

"Hyung says it's not sexting," Namjoon says. "I also say it wasn't sexting. Please don't mention sexting and Yoongi-hyung in the same statement to me ever again."

"Whatever," Jimin chirps, and Yoongi slumps forward with a sigh. "The point is, Yoongi-hyung, that Taehyung is basically cheating on you with yourself."

Namjoon snickers and Yoongi lifts his hands to sign a remark. "He says it's not like that. That Taehyung was just always sad in the comments and Yoongi wanted to make him feel better. Shit, that's soft of you, hyung."

"Double shit," Jimin says on the line. "Didn't know you had a heart, hyung. Didn't know it was made of three-ply toilet paper."

"He's glaring."

"Well, he can continue to glare, but we're still coming. Tae's clocking off. We'll be there in fifteen. Want me to tell him about you-know-who before we head over?"

"No," Namjoon answers, but he double checks to make sure Yoongi's okay with that. Yoongi gives a dismissive hand flap. "I want to see this play out."

"Same. See you soon!"

Yoongi twists his hands together before knocking against the desk to get Namjoon's attention. Namjoon, this isn't funny.

"It's kind of funny," Namjoon grins. "Stop stressing, hyung. You've only known it's him for like, two of your conversations now. It's not a big deal."

You just said he'll be upset. They're always upset.

Namjoon starts to pitter around his desk, straightening papers and gathering his seventy-two paper cups he gets everytime he buys watered down coffee from the vending machine. "Okay, I take it back. Taehyung will probably think it's destiny and really cute."

Please don't tell him I know it's him, Yoongi signs.

"Hyung, he's not—"

It's not about me. It's about him. Namjoon stills. Yoongi's teeth grate against the skin on the inside of his mouth and resists the urge to bite down. Taehyung has anonymously shared personal things with me, with us. I shouldn't know some of the things I know. So unless he brings it up that he's been sending in messages, I'm going to pretend that I don't know it's him. Okay?

Namjoon's spine seems to give out. Yoongi watches him shrink in on himself. "Yeah, hyung. I get it. Okay."

Thanks.

"Want to fix your hair before they get here? You kind of look like a troll."

Yoongi narrows his eyes but ducks his head anyway, and Namjoon chuckles under his breath as he combs his fingers through Yoongi's fringe.

There isn't enough time for Yoongi work himself up into a fit over this. Plus, he has a job to do, and unlike Namjoon, he actually likes being on the good side of his department head.

So when Jimin comes gallivanting through the studio door with a perky "hiya, hyungs!", Yoongi just continues to burrow, unseen as he can possibly get, behind his computer monitor.

"Jimin," Namjoon intones flatly. "We could have been in the middle of a segment."

"But you weren't," Jimin chirps back, and Yoongi peeks around the screen to see Jimin tugging Taehyung in by his elbow sleeve. "And your listeners love me anyway."

Jimin stares at Namjoon, smiling. Namjoon sighs, pitches his voice higher and says, "Oh no, Jimin-ah, everyone loves you." Jimin giggles and Namjoon raises the back of his hand to his brow. "Oh, wondrous Park Jimin. The brightest, most beautiful creature on this begotten earth."

"Joonie-hyung," Jimin squeals, heading over to drape himself over Namjoon's chair and, in turn, Namjoon. "Joonie-hyung, stop i-i-t ."

"How do I love thee?" Namjoon gasps, raising one arm as Jimin beats his shoulder. "Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and hei—"

"Yoongi-hyung?"

Yoongi stills. Because at some point in the melodramatics, Yoongi rolled out from behind his desk to laugh at the scene before him, and Taehyung, who is hovering beside the door, has his brow pinched in such a myriad of emotions that, even if Yoongi was better at reading him, Yoongi doesn't think he'd want to.

"Yoongi-hyung," Taehyung repeats, finally settling on a mix of pleasantly surprised and mildly slighted. Yoongi hopes the latter is for Jimin lying to him but understands they're all guilty here. "What are you doing here?"

"He's my emotional support," Namjoon answers, still fully embraced by Jimin, who is watching them with cautious eyes. "Like one of those dogs that can sense when you're sad."

Yoongi scrunches his nose at that, but Taehyung just lets out a little, "Oh. Okay."

"You don't look convinced," Namjoon says.

"Well, hyung wouldn't be first on my list for emotional support."

Yoongi, not at all upset with this claim because it is undeniably true, pretends to be upset and flips Taehyung off. Taehyung recoils, so stunned by the action that Yoongi's afraid he might have crossed a line he didn't know was there.

But then Taehyung barks out a laugh, face curling up with his smile, and Yoongi is flooded with warmth at the sight of it. It's only been a couple days since they talked on the phone and Yoongi still can't stop himself from tripping over that sound.

Namjoon clears his throat. "He's actually the DJ."

Taehyung's grin falls so fast it might actually hurt. He stares at Namjoon. Mildly slighted has flipped to full-blown alarm. "I thought you were the DJ?"

"Hyung's in charge of most of the music," Namjoon says, casually pulling Jimin off of himself. "I do all the talking."

Taehyung nods and nods and nods. "Oh, that makes sense. So, uhm. Who, uh, answers messages? That listeners send in?"

"Hyung does most of the time."

Taehyung's head just keeps bobbling. "Does most of the time mean, like, every time?"

"No?" Namjoon answers, and Jimin crosses around the desks to sit in Yoongi's lap. "That's why it's most and not every?"

"Right, right. Right." Taehyung stops moving. Might possibly not be breathing with the way his voice comes out tight. "Yeah, course. Get any, uh, unusual messages?"

Jimin's rubbing the back of Yoongi's neck, like he thinks Yoongi needs the comfort. Yoongi actually just needs to get as far away from this room as possible, but a little massage doesn't hurt.

"Hyung gets asked out a lot," Namjoon smirks, " if that's what you're referring to."

"It wasn't, but that's great to know. Very nice." Taehyung swivels stiffly towards him. "Congrats, hyung, on your dating possibilities."

"Don't worry," Namjoon gleams, giddy from his spot. He winks at Yoongi because Taehyung is turned away. "He's already got someone."

Taehyung's mouth is so pinched it looks like he may never smile again. "Oh. Oh, okay. What a lucky person. I mean, you know. Yay them."

Jimin makes a strangled noise and tosses his head back. "Namjoon-hyung, you're terrible. Tae, don't worry, he's actually waiting for— OW ! The hell, hyung!?"

Jimin rubs at his side where Yoongi pinched the bit of skin there. He pulls his right arm from around Jimin's waist and signs where Namjoon can see as well, Stop ignoring me. Stop talking. Both of you.

He obviously likes you, Jimin signs back with a heavy pout. What are you waiting for?

We're not... That's not...

Yoongi drops his hands into his lap, unsure of how to press forward, and there must be something in his expression that sobers Namjoon and Jimin up because they both drop the cheeky grins.

Please just let us handle this ourselves, Yoongi tells them.

"Okay, hyung," Jimin says softly, giving Yoongi a small hug. "Okay. Sorry."

"Should I go?" Taehyung asks after the silence flitters on. He's gesturing for the door. "Because I can go, if you guys need to like, talk or something. In private."

Jimin shakes his head. "We're fine. Sorry for cutting you out of that. That was rude."

Taehyung shrugs, but Yoongi knows he's feeling hurt. So he pushes Jimin out of his lap and gestures for Taehyung to join him instead.

"Do I get to sit in your lap, too?" He asks as he pads over, lips curling.

Yoongi's ears are burning but he signs and enthusiastic fuck no that makes everyone laugh. Jimin returns to Namjoon's lap even though there's a perfectly good chair in the corner he could drag up, and Yoongi has Taehyung take a seat in the guest chair beside him and shows him how the programs they use work.

After the next talk segment and with a few songs queued, Namjoon and Jimin chatting intensely over something that happened in the latest episode of the drama they're keeping up with, Taehyung tugs on the hem of Yoongi's sleeve and tilts his head towards the door.

Yoongi nods, grabs his phone, and the two of them unspokenly head for the roof.

Taehyung doesn't wait. As soon as the door shuts behind him, he turns to Yoongi, planet sized brown eyes looking downtrodden. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tell you what? Yoongi mouths, then remembers who they are and reaches for his phone instead.

Taehyung doesn't need the crutch, though. The statement must have been obvious because he speaks before Yoongi can write. "That you work here. That you run the messaging board."

The statement remains unsaid: That you knew who I was all this time.

Yoongi takes in a great big breath and wills his hands to stop trembling. Because I eventually want you to tell me, Min Yoongi, not some stranger on the radio, everything about you. But only in your own time, and only if you want to.

Taehyung moves in close to read, head ducked low so that his breath warms the bridge of Yoongi's nose.

He's quiet for a bit, just like he was at the little book shop. Yoongi lets him think. Let's him process. Can't stop himself from leaning forward so that Taehyung's nose brushes against his forehead.

Taehyung's breath stutters, but without hesitation, he presses his lips against the very top of Yoongi's head, not quite a kiss but close enough for Yoongi's heart to trip over itself.

"I want to, hyung," he breathes, voice catching at the end. "I want to tell you everything."

I want to hear everything you have to say, Yoongi mouths against his scarf, writes again a few minutes later for Taehyung to read as they return to the warmth of the stairwell.

Taehyung grins at him, small and shy, something only for him, and Yoongi reaches up to run a thumb under Taehyung's eye where a mole dots his lash line.

He doesn't try to make an excuse for it this time.

~~~

Yoongi's passing through the living room when he catches Hoseok staring at him with his eyes stretched wide open, a crumpled bag of dried squid loose in his grip.

Oh my god, you actually did it? he signs, jaw trailing low with the intensity of his grin.

Yoongi blanches. Did what?

Hoseok tosses down the squid and jumps the coffee table to get to him. You're going on a date.

Fuck no, Yoongi mouths, brow furrowing. Not a date.

Hoseok makes a low humming noise and gives Yoongi's collar a tug. Hyung. You're in slacks that, by the way, make your ass look fantastic. You blow dried your hair. It's Valentine's Day.

What?

You look very much so not like a goblin living under a bridge and are going out, willingly, on your least favorite day of the year. Hoseok's fingers jitter against Yoongi's ribs in time to him mouthing the words, You. Have. A. Date.

Yoongi moves away but Hoseok follows, trilling loudly and smacking his shoulders like he needs some kind of pump up jam. Which he very well might. Yoongi totally blanked that today was Valentine's. The shit ton of couples littering the streets is going to be nauseating. Why did Jungkook have to go to the gallery showing today?

It's not a date, Yoongi snaps as Hoseok trails after him to the bathroom. We're going to a gallery and then dinner.

Silence behind him, and Yoongi finishes touching up his hair and is dabbing a bit of cologne on his wrists when he catches Hoseok staring at him through the mirror, face unamused as he signs, That's the definition of a date. Did you ask or did he?

He asked, Yoongi mouths with a frown that only grows when Hoseok whips out his phone from his horrendous yellow shorts that Yoongi keeps trying to throw away. Who are you texting? And what are you freaking out over, we do this all the time?

Hoseok blinks at him. Jimin. And since when?

Like three years? Where have you been?

Hoseok blinks harder. Mouths What? with a bit too much bewilderment, even for him.

You're being weird, Yoongi signs. More so than usual.

No. Who are you going out with tonight?

Jungkook.

What? Hoseok mouths, so shocked that a little of the word actually escapes with a squeak.

Jungkook asked me to go to a gallery with him and we're grabbing dinner after, Yoongi explains, brushing past him to make a stop by his bedroom to grab his coat. It's the nice, wool one that Seokjin says makes him look three inches taller and like a respectable member of society. Why doesn't Yoongi try to wear this coat with Taehyung? Why does he always look like a baby beluga whale when they meet?

Hoseok's hand shoots out, blocking the doorway, and Yoongi eyes him as he ducks under it to pass.

Wait, Jimin's freaking out.

Why is Jimin freaking out? Yoongi signs. What did you tell him?

That you're going on a date, Hoseok mouths without looking at him.

It's not a date!, Yoongi flails, but Hoseok just edges an amused brow up. It's Jungkook! Why would I go on a date with Jungkook?

Hoseok follows him out to the kitchen. Yoongi's ready and Jungkook should be here any moment, but time isn't moving fast enough and Hoseok's out for blood.

Well seeing as we both thought you were going out with Taehyung tonight, I think we have the right to be upset.

Yoongi drops his arms and mouths, The fuck?

Hoseok hums under his breath and Yoongi feels he's trudging through mud. The room is rocking. Why are the walls moving? Jimin wants to know if Taehyung asked you out for tonight.

Yoongi, the edges of his vision dark, plops onto the sofa without trying to catch himself. No , he mouths, and Hoseok sits on the arm and frowns.

Jimin's upset.

Why?

I can't tell you. Breach of trust.

Fuck this, Yoongi snarls, and Hoseok crawls out of smacking range. Tell Jimin to shove a—

The door beeps and Yoongi scrambles to sit up when Jungkook rounds the corner of the entry. Hoseok flinches and turns, shoulders loosening when he spots who it is. A little noise of excitement escapes when he flings himself across the living room to latch onto Jungkook's torso.

Jungkook rubs Hoseok's arm and waddles forward, stopping when he catches sight of Yoongi who is currently trying to look busy dusting non-existent hair off his person.

Hi, hyung, Jungkook mouths, hands still occupied. His eyes are wide and alive as they trail down to Yoongi's toes then jump back to his face. You look nice.

You told me to dress well, Yoongi signs, tugging on his lapel. You look handsome, Kook.

Jungkook, still in a human straight-jacket but with freshly fluffed hair and his shirt tucked in, flushes all the way to his ears. Don't tease me.

But I love teasing you, Yoongi smirks, and Jungkook lifts his face to the ceiling so that Yoongi can't read the words he mouths.

Hoseok finally pries himself off Jungkook's arm and goes back to his perch on the sofa, phone in hand, gaze sharp as it flits between the two of them. Yoongi raises a brow in question and Hoseok's eyes narrow as he shakes his head.

Did I interrupt something?, Jungkook signs, watching them both, picking up on the confusion lingering between them.

No, Hoseok's just being an idiot. Nothing unusual.

Rude , Hoseok signs to them. Have him back by midnight, Jungkookie. Keep your hands to yourself.

Hoseok says it with a smile, and they joke like this with each other often; but something about this moment in particular makes a knot ball up at the base of Yoongi's throat. Hoseok's eyes are tight, fingers jittering along his thigh. And that head shake earlier, like there's something he wanted to say but didn't know how to say it. Or didn't want to say it now.

The pins and needles feeling settles as he and Jungkook escape onto the sidewalk. Evening light is settling over the city, casting the street in warm tones and shadows that have Jungkook stopping to pull out his phone to video a few moments worth of footage. It's chilly still, but a mild cold for this time of the year, and Yoongi waits, thoughtfully watching as Jungkook works. Yoongi's honestly surprised he doesn't have his actual camera on him, and when he asks as much, Jungkook just shrugs and clears his throat and says, "it's a special night."

Yoongi doesn't know what that means. Assumes that for whatever reason this is a special night, that should be all the more reason for Jungkook to have his camera.

But Yoongi doesn't question it, just like he hasn't questioned a lot of Jungkook's actions over the past several months. Instead they idly chat on the subway ride downtown, catching up on a week's worth of happenings. Jungkook eventually asks him about his thesis, his music, and Yoongi opens and closes his mouth and doesn't know what to say. Not because he hasn't been working, but because it still feels off, to talk with Jungkook about music. Not when Yoongi can't share beats with him anymore. Not when Yoongi can no longer send him a song and tell him, Heard this and thought of you.

The gallery is busy, but it's not unbearable. It's the kind of crowd Yoongi enjoys; a group of people all passionate about the same thing, gathering in the same space to explore and enjoy it.

But it is cramped, and Jungkook keeps a hand on his shoulder as they work through the first couple rooms.

Yoongi isn't impressed by what he sees. Sparse black and white photographs, framed letters, and an occasional video installation dot the minimal walls. Yoongi notices that some of the pieces look decades old, obviously taken on film, while others have the tell-tale sign of a digital camera.

Yoongi's not sure what he should be looking at, looking for, but as Jungkook's hand falls to his lower back, as he comments lowly in Yoongi's ear as they move from frame to frame, Yoongi starts to see it, this strangely candid life pieced before them.

Yoongi's about to ask Jungkook a question when he spots it, the fleck of gold, and Yoongi takes one step back and peers around the shoulder of a woman and sees him, Taehyung, standing in front of a photograph of a field, empty save for one lone watermelon resting at the center.

He's gorgeous, as always. Coat checked at the front door so his loose floral shirt can sweep across his shoulders for all to see. He's in fitted slacks today, his runway boots. A beret, this time black. He looks at home here, surrounded by nostalgia and art, and Yoongi doesn't realize he's staring until Jungkook calls his name and Taehyung, as if hearing, turns to glance his way.

Surprise is there on his face, but then he smiles, big and giddy, and a warmth spreads all the way to Yoongi's fingers. Taehyung, without looking away, covers the distance between them in a few easy strides.

"Hyung," he breathes out, and then his eyes flicker to the side and his grin falters. "Oh. Hi, Jungkook-ah."

Jungkook ducks his head in greeting and Yoongi looks between them both, confused by the tension building.

Jungkook's touch on his elbow brings him back. I'm going to go to the restroom , he signs, and Yoongi nods and watches him go, brow furrowing.

"He hates me," Taehyung announces easily, shrugging when Yoongi turns to him with a frown. "It's true. We have class together and he ignores me."

Didn't you hang out together last week? Yoongi types into his phone, and Taehyung steps in close to read. He smells heavily of cinnamon again, but this time something else, something a little darker that has Yoongi stepping forward so they're touching.

"With Jiminnie and Jin-hyung as a barrier."

Yoongi presses his tongue into his cheek because that's kind of true, in a way. He's never actually seen Jungkook and Taehyung together without someone there to mediate.

It's probably just a communication thing, Yoongi writes to him, hating the idea that two of his friends might not be getting along. He gets embarrassed when meeting new people he can't understand.

"He can't understand me?" Taehyung asks.

You don't sign, and your dialect makes it hard to read your lips.

"Oh." Taehyung raises his fingertips to his lips and sits on that for a moment, then says without looking at Yoongi. "That's good to know, but I think there might be more to it than that."

Yoongi wants to know what that means, is actually pulling his phone up to type when Taehyung breezes past the subject easily and asks, "So what are you doing here, hyung?"

Yoongi can spot an attention diverter when he hears it, but he lets it pass. Jungkook asked me to come. He said this is a school thing. Is that why you're here?

"Yeah, but I would have come anyway." Taehyung is smiling, something soft and hidden there that makes him look young. "I try to go to all the exhibitions I can, but this is one I've been looking forward to."

Yoongi must make a face that reveals too much of his confusion over the gallery because Taehyung barks out a laugh; husky, but loud enough for a couple people to glance their way.

"Not enjoying yourself, hyung?" He teases.

I guess I just don't understand it.

Taehyung looks at him from beneath his lashes, still with that gentle grin. "Nah," he says lowly, "I don't believe that. What do you see?"

So Yoongi turns and looks again. Sees a glimmering lake and the hazy form of a girl in the woods. A lone lemon, resting on a table. The silhouette of a crop of mountains. The watermelon, resting by itself in that field.

A story, Yoongi writes, because he sees it now, after looking twice. But it's fragmented. Lonely.

"The artist is trying to tell the history of her family from the memories of the stories she heard growing up," Taehyung explains, voice quiet and smooth as he guides Yoongi along, a hand low on his waist. "The uncertainty that lies within them. The relationship between the past and the present. This balance between what's fact and what's imagination. She's capturing a fragment of her life, and her parent's lives, and her grandparents' lives and trying to put it all together into this new, beautiful, candid tale."

Yoongi glances up but Taehyung isn't looking to him. He has his eyes fixed on the watermelon, eyes sparkling under the gallery lights spotlighting them from overhead. His hair is getting a little shaggy and there are dark circles under his eyes, the only visible sign that his hours are starting to weigh on him; but his whole face is alive with this small joy, and Yoongi feels himself going on his toes because there's that mole again. The one under his lip. The one Yoongi wants to press his mouth to—

Taehyung turns, mouth open as if to say something; but then he must see Yoongi leaning in, must spot something in Yoongi's face that Yoongi forgot to hide again because his smile drops and his cheeks flush and this small look of wonderment is growing in his gaze.

"Hyung," Taehyung whispers. "Yoongi-hyung, I—"

"Yoongi-hyung," someone calls from behind them. Jungkook, eyes wider than usual, mouth pinched, says in a clipped tone, "We have our dinner reservation soon. We need to leave."

Yoongi's so blown over by Jungkook's frantic appearance, by him speaking aloud in a room full of strangers that he steps away from Taehyung and towards Jungkook so just a breadth of space is between them.

Are you okay? Yoongi mouths to him, and Jungkook nods but his breathing is shallow. Jungkook, do we need to go home?

Why do you always assume the worst? Jungkook mouths back, the hint of a smile curling at his lips, but there's still a tightness around his eyes that doesn't settle well on Yoongi's chest.

Tae, Yoongi signs, turning so his hands can be seen. Sorry, but we have plans.

Taehyung blinks at him, and it takes a moment longer than it should for Yoongi to remember oh right, he doesn't understand.

Oh, right.

He doesn't understand.

Jungkook and I have dinner plans, but it was nice to see you, Yoongi writes out for him. Have a good night.

"Yeah, I'm actually supposed to meet Jimin, soon," Taehyung says, a frown in his voice but not on his face. Yoongi stares up at him, searching but finding nothing off there, like he's being kept at bay. "Nice to see you both."

They split ways after that. Jungkook takes Yoongi's hand and leads him back outside into the cold night air. They both take a deep, cleansing inhale at the same time. Turn to each other. Break out into soft laughter. It's a shimmery night, a few stars visible overhead without clouds to obscure them and reflect the city lights.

They eat Italian but follow it up with hotteok, and Yoongi is in the middle of a particularly compelling story about how he almost managed to pet Hatshepsut the other morning without any food-aided assistance when Jungkook's hand falls into his vision.

It's a quick thing, Jungkook's thumb brushing a bit of filling off Yoongi's bottom lip. It's probably something that's happened between them before, more than once, such a casual thing he can't quite recall a specific moment; but somehow, for some reason, this time it startles Yoongi into silence, his hands going still.

Yoongi slows to a stop and Jungkook follows. They're in a quieter part of the neighborhood, naturally gravitating to a place more peaceful. The stores around them are closed for the evening, window fronts dark, neon flicked off so only the light from the streetlamps warms the way.

Jungkook still has his hand raised. Fingers lingering on Yoongi's cheek. Jungkook's thumb, just moments before wiping his lip, is now grazing his cheek bone. The edge of his brow. The line of his jaw. He looks a little lost and little scared, refusing to meet Yoongi's eyes but not making an effort to look away, either.

Yoongi sticks his tongue out to get Jungkook's attention, wherever it may be, and Jungkook's gaze drops to his mouth.

What's going on, Jungkook? Yoongi mouths. You can tell me.

I like... Jungkook starts silently, hand moving up to brush Yoongi's bangs away from his forehead. "I like... I like spending time with you, hyung."

I like spending time with you, too.

"And I like... I like seeing you happy. And talking to you," Jungkook presses on. "I like..."

Yoongi's phone beeps and Jungkook flinches, staring down between them. It beeps again, and Yoongi's going to ignore it because Jungkook is finally talking to him again; but the beeping of messages keeps filtering in, fast and incessant.

"It might be important," Jungkook whispers, stepping away, and Yoongi almost follows after because no no no, this is important. Jungkook is important.

But Jungkook's broken away from him, and Yoongi sighs and tugs out his phone and frowns as he filters through a dozen crazed messages from Jimin.

Jimin, Yoongi signs with one hand.

"Is he okay?"

Yoongi gets through the jumbled mess of the first messages, just a bunch of unintelligible capslock and emojis, and feels his neck heat at the last couple to come in.

Fucking, Yoongi mouths, tipping his head back to gulp down a breath.

"Hyung?"

Will you please text Jimin and tell him we're not on a date , Yoongi signs after tucking his phone into his back pocket. On silent this time.

"What?"

He and Hoseok... It's not important. But just let Jimin know this isn't a date.

Jungkook looks at him, eyes drifting over his face. He says quietly, "Why do I need to tell Jimin that this isn't a date?"

Yoongi doesn't want to say that Jimin's freaking out. That Jimin's upset. That Jimin thinks they might be secretly dating and that's terrible, that can't be happening because Jungkook has been in love with Jimin for almost a year now and Yoongi's pretty certain that Jimin likes him back and that's why Jungkook needs to text him. To clear up this whole situation. To possibly go confess because it's been long enough, hasn't it? Why do they keep dragging this out?

Yoongi hears Jungkook suck in air. When he speaks, his voice is weak, barely discernible over the sounds of the city. "Does this have something to do with Taehyung?"

Yoongi tenses at the sound of his voice. What?

"Are you dating Taehyung?" Jungkook presses, voice cracking a little. He looks down at the ground, then back up, just far enough to read Yoongi's hands but not meet his eyes.

I'm not, Yoongi signs. The space around them is swelling. Where is this coming from, Kook?

Why are you telling me to go to Jimin? Jungkook signs, like he can't trust his voice, and Yoongi shuffles forward, then back. Rests in the middle, unsure of what to do.

I'm not saying to go there, just to message him.

But why?

Because he's upset?

Jungkook tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. Why is he upset? What's so upsetting about the idea of of us being on a date?

That's not... The air is so heavy between them it's a miracle they can still breathe. Jungkook, what's going on?

Right now? Jungkook shrugs, full-bodied and tired. I honestly have no idea.

No, in general, Yoongi signs, his normally clipped motions spread to wide with worry. The past six months. The dating around and the silence. You always talk to me about things.

Jungkook, staring off into the distance where skyline lights the sky, signs, This is different.

How is it different? Yoongi signs, huffs, like the words are trying to slip out. He feels his throat constrict with the effort behind it and winces. We tell each other everything, Kook.

Jungkook's eyes find his face again. The intensity in his eyes has vanished. The animonisty dissolved between them. All that's left is Jungkook, hunched and sad looking, standing on this empty sidewalk and looking at Yoongi like he might as well be a stranger.

Do we? He signs tentatively, and when Yoongi hitches in a breath, it's too thick to choke down.

They stand there, staring at each other in the quiet darkness, and Yoongi can tell that Jungkook is just as frustrated and bewildered as he is.

Jungkook slumps in further on himself, shaky hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I'm going to go home, hyung. Thanks for coming out with me."

I'll walk with you, Yoongi starts, but Jungkook just shakes his head.

"No, I just—" Jungkook's voice, his smile, his entire being is wobbly. "I need to clear my head. I'll text you when I get in. Text me, okay?"

He leaves after that. Yoongi watches as he half walks, half jogs down the street and turns at the nearest corner even though Yoongi knows it doesn't lead to the subway.

Pressure builds at the back of Yoongi's neck, and he fends it off on his way home, just a couple angry tears slipping out before he can blink them away. It's late, but not the latest he's returned to the apartment, and Yoongi kicks off his boots and then turns around to straighten them for Hoseok. The lamp in the living room is on, so is the TV. Yoongi finds Hoseok lying sideways in the armchair watching an American drama with a facemask on that makes him look like a tiger.

Yoongi waves his hand and Hoseok hums under his breath but doesn't look away from the screen. So Yoongi slips past, shucking his coat off as he goes, then his shirt and his slacks and the weird dress socks that Hoseok lent him. He piles on sweats in their place, his fuzzy slippers, and this time when he returns to the living room, Hoseok is sitting right-way up and shoving a handful of honey butter chips in his mouth.

Didn't realize it was a facemask night, Yoongi signs.

Hoseok stares at him for a long moment and then sighs with his whole body. Joon's sad.

Yoongi's heart stops. Do we need to go over there? He signs, already moving to rise from the sofa. We can rent that one American horse movie, the one with the nice animation. And we can grab some cake or something.

No, Hoseok shakes his head, curling in on his side. Jin-hyung's cooking for him. And he's sad because Jimin's angry at him.

Yoongi blinks. Odd. How strange. Jimin's fiercely loyal and Yoongi firmly believes he would be the first to call them from jail needing bail for punching an asshole in the face, but Jimin's never been upset with Namjoon in his life. None of them have. Yoongi doesn't even think it's truly possible to be angry at Namjoon. That's like hating baby harp seals or yelling at a baby for crying when it can't help it. Why is Jimin angry with Namjoon? No one can be upset with Joon. He's Joon.

Hoseok does the body sigh again. Apparently you've been sexting Taehyung for months?

Yoongi clings to the arm of the sofa. What the fuck, Hoseok, be serious here.

I am! Hoseok signs, throwing his arm wide and sending a remote clattering ot the floor. Jimin said that you were flirting with Taehyung over the campus radio station for months, then you found out who he was, then he and Jimin came to visit you at the station where Taehyung discovered your secret identity, then Joon fucked up and said that you're already interested in someone, so now Taehyung thinks that you're off the market which is why he didn't ask you out on a date for today—

Taehyung was going to ask me out on a date? Yoongi mouths, shoulders hunching with the weight of his head sagging forward.

Hoseok, visibly upset at being interrupted during his tirade, rolls his eyes. Hypothetically, yes. Also, you guys have gone on like twelve dates.

Three, Yoongi corrects. Wait. No, those weren't dates. Just dinners. What does hypothetically mean?

Means that Taehyung didn't explicitly state he was going to ask you on a date. Jimin's reading between the lines... Hoseok scrunches his eyes and his cheeks pinch with his frown. Did you want him to ask you on a date?

Yoongi's exhausted by that question. By tonight. Taehyung should be the last of his worries right now. His friend group, his family, is falling apart again and people just keep asking him if he's dating. I don't know.

Hoseok's brow furrows, wrinkling his nose. He stares at Yoongi for a long while with that look he wears sometimes that makes Yoongi want to slink into the linen closet and cultivate mushrooms there. Like Hoseok is disappointed in him. No, worse. Like Hoseok wants to try to fix this but feels powerless to do so.

Well, it doesn't matter, he eventually signs, just before Yoongi almost keels over the cushions with the weight of his gaze, because Taehyung showed up to dinner with Jimin looking like a kicked puppy, and he told Jimin that you were on a date with Jungkook.

But Jimin knew I was out with Jungkook. Yoongi falls forward and drops his face into his hands and digs his palms against his eyes until he sees stars.

Hoseok is waiting for him when he lifts his head again. Yes, but then Taehyung saying that he saw you guys on a date made Jimin question if we're all just lying to him and you and JK actually are secretly dating. Which, you're not, right?

No. This is ridiculous. Why is this happening?

The second smothering silence of Yoongi's evening blankets them. Yoongi stays shriveled in his seat, body too tired to move but his mind a whirring mess of balled up hysteria threatening to spill over.

Depression is easier to manage. Depression just makes him stay in bed for three days and refuse to shower. Anxiety makes him want to duck his head in a sinkful of water just to muffle some of his surroundings so that his head will stop throbbing.

Hoseok clears his throat, a small, squeaky sound. Yoongi opens his eyes and Hoseok signs without looking at his face, Why don't you talk to me about Taehyung?

Yoongi's not sure why they're back on this subject, but Hoseok's fingers twitch and dance over his thigh and Yoongi watches, sadness balling in his throat, as Hoseok's leg begins to bounce.

Because there's not... Yoongi signs, hands stiff as he moves. I'm not quite sure what to talk about.

Why don't you talk to me about music?

I don't talk to anyone about music, Yoongi tells him.

You're a music major, Hoseok responds, movements clipped. Maybe you should.

Yoongi feels his brows arch and Hoseok sighs again, finally looking up to his eyes. Sorry. I'm not upset with you. Just sad, maybe. I feel like we used to talk about everything.

Yoongi's nails dig into his palm and he remembers standing just an hour before that sidewalk with Jungkook.

—We tell each other everything, Kook.

Do we?—

If it makes you feel better, Yoongi signs, cotton-mouth settling in, making him lick his lips. I don't talk to anyone about anything.

Hoseok laughs and it sounds a little broken. It doesn't. Makes me feel worse, actually.

They both take a deep breath at the same time and notice it. Yoongi smiles and Hoseok falls back against the chair with a stilted chuckle.

They sit and watch a few scenes of the drama, some kind of open heart surgery taking place, and Hoseok drums his fingers against his stomach and doesn't wait to see if Yoongi is looking when he signs, Maybe you should talk to someone. Doesn't have to be your therapist. Doesn't have to be me. But maybe just... someone. Hoseok nods again, more to himself than anything. I think we all just... need to be more open with each other. Honest. No more hiding. I'm really tired of hiding.

It kind of strikes him then, the realization that maybe Hoseok isn't fine. That maybe just because he's good with being deaf doesn't mean he's good with Namjoon or his parents or school or the dance team or anything else, really. Maybe he's not good with Yoongi. Maybe Yoongi needs to try a little harder, even if the idea of opening up makes him want to crawl into the Han.

Yoongi waves his hand and Hoseok glances over. Jungkook and I fought, Yoongi tells him, chest tight but facing him head on.

Hoseok frowns and scuttles back up in his seat. You did? About what?

Yoongi shrugs, but then he shakes his head and signs, He was trying to tell me something and I guess... I guess I just wasn't listening.

Hoseok hums at that, one low note from deep in his throat. He stands and walks over to the sofa, then flings himself down so most of his body is draped over Yoongi.

You guys will work it out, Hoseok signs as he holds his arms out for Yoongi to see. He rests his chin on top of Yoongi's head and sighs again. We'll all work it out.

~~~

A concert? Yoongi mouths, and he didn't mean to come across so surprised but Dr. Lim just laughs, not taking any offense by it.

"The spring benefit," she tells him, pulling a flyer out of one of the folders lined up on her podium. "Our accompanist is out with tendonitis and a few of the faculty brought up your name as a fill-in. Myself included."

Yoongi takes the sheet of paper, white with the multi-color silhouette of a violin resting in the center. The conductor's name (another professor in the department, the other option Yoongi could have chosen to be his advisor), ticket prices, location and a date are listed in the bottom corner. The even if just barely a month out.

"I understand that it's been several years since you've performed, Yoongi, but if you're interested, I'm confident that you'd do well." Yoongi looks up and Dr. Lim smiles at him, all warmth, none of the stark professionalism that a passerby would assume from her light grey pant suit. "You might even discover something."

To discover something means it has to have been hidden. Has to have been lost.

"Let me know by next class period, okay?"

"A concert?" Jimin chirps, once again choosing to use Yoongi as a chair even though there are a half-dozen around them that could be put to good use.

Their pianist is out with an injury, Yoongi signs, making sure that Namjoon can see his hands as well from across the table. My name was brought up.

"That's incredible, hyung," Namjoon beams, his dimples flickering with the width of his smile. "Did you say yes?"

Told her I'd think about it.

Jimin takes a deep drink of his smoothie. It smells faintly of mint and pineapple and is sickly puce color. "A recital. Wow. What kind of music?"

Yoongi opens his mouth and Jimin sticks the straw in it. Yoongi signs as he sips. It's a benefit, so it's supposed to fun. Some remixes on well-known movie scores.

"Sounds fun," Namjoon says.

"I think you should do it," Jimin says.

"Make sure to invite us," Seokjin says from behind, setting their food down on the table. "I have a tux that could use a good night out."

Jimin tugs the straw back from Yoongi and takes another long drink. Yoongi glances at them individually, smacking his lips, the faint taste of lemon lingering there — Jimin with an arm wrapped around his neck and messaging someone on his phone; Namjoon with a couple books splayed out in front of him that he's been sticking so many colored post-it notes in it looks more like an art project than research; Seokjin, leaning against Namjoon's chair, cheekily calling out Minseo behind the counter (Oh, that's cool. I thought about going on an all-almond diet once, but that's just nuts.) and Minseo staring him down for three solid seconds before ducking behind the espresso machine to laugh.

None of them are paying him any direct attention, but all are turned so that they they can see his hands at all times.

Yoongi drops his head, trying to hide his blush, and Jimin must feel the heat because he coos against Yoongi's temple. Touches the soft spot behind his ear and whispers for only him to hear. "Proud of you, hyung."

Yoongi tilts his head away but taps Jimin's thigh three times and feels Jimin smile against his skin.

~~~

Of all the emotionally competent people Yoongi has in his life, he decides to go to Seokjin to talk about his feelings.

"What's poppin', Yoongles?" Seokjin greets. It's five minutes to close and he's cashing out for the day. Jimin and Taehyung aren't on tonight. It's Sooyoung instead, who's in beast mode as she jumps from table to table to wipe them down and stack the chairs.

Yoongi, currently feeling like an unfortunate jellyfish that's been washed ashore, sinks into the counter and presses his forehead into the wood beside the register.

A pause and then, "M-m-mm. Yeah. Let's go get some noodles."

Yoongi helps sweep and mop as Seokjin finishes up in the back and Sooyoung wipes down the display cases. They walk her to the nearest bus stop despite her complaints, and then they walk another couple blocks in the late winter night to a ramen stand that gives out free fish cake as a side.

Yoongi's on his second bowl and Seokjin on his fourth when Yoongi finally puts down his chopsticks and rests his cheek against the table, much like he did at the café.

Seokjin glances over at him and nods. "Yeah. I'm getting a little full, too."

Yoongi closes his eyes and grins. Mouths, I'm in love with Taehyung.

Another pause and then, "Either you just confessed your undying love for Tae, or you—" Seokjin cuts himself off. "Actually, I'm pretty caught off guard right now. Can't think of a pun. Alright. That's new development on both our parts."

I want to date him. Be with him. Hold his hand. Yoongi opens his eyes and Seokjin is looking down at him, slightly horrified but trying very hard not to show it. Listen to him talk about anything and everything.

"That sound superb," Seokjin squeaks. "The problem?"

Yoongi shrugs.

Seokjin's face scrunches and he heaves in a breath, one-shots the rest of his ramen broth, then raises his hand for another bowl. When the auntie flits over with a refill, Seokjin thanks her sincerely and then eats his hard boiled egg whole.

"Okay," he claps after swallowing thickly. He swivels on his stool so he's facing Yoongi. "I'm just preparing you in advance, but I'm about to go into Hyung Mode. Don't be so shocked by my overwhelming charisma that you fall in love with me too. I have enough admirers to fend off."

Yoongi keeps his head resting on the table but grins, and Seokjin's gaze goes strangely serious as he clears his throat. "Yoongi. You're your own worst enemy. You get so caught up in your head it's like you forget that you have this huge family around you who wants to see you succeed. It's like you don't want to see yourself succeed. Why is that?"

Sitting up now. Yoongi still feels a little spineless, but Seokjin is suddenly treating this like an important conversation (which it very well is), and Yoongi's not sure if he wanted that.

"Do you think you're not good enough?" Seokjin presses on when Yoongi doesn't answer. "Fear of rejection? That maybe you're not going to live up to your own standards so why even try?"

I don't want to have a serious talk anymore, Yoongi mouths.

"Too bad," Seokjin says, stuffing a fish cake into his mouth. "You started it. I haven't been this sober about a conversation in forty-six years."

Yoongi pointedly turns away to take a biteful of noodles, even though he's not all that hungry anymore.

"Talk to me, Yoongi."

Yoongi feels the breath catch inside of him, this hideous sludge building in his chest and crawling up his throat until he's suddenly dropping his chopsticks and furiously signing to Seokjin, But I can't. I can't talk to anyone. I can't talk to Taehyung or you or my teachers or my family. I can't do— Yoongi's chest shudders as he inhales. I can't do anything.

"Why?" Yoongi blinks and Seokjin is leaning forward, eyes focused on him. "Why can't you talk to us?"

Yoongi stares at him. Because I'm fucking mute, Seokjin.

"I can hear you."

For just a moment Seokjin looks uncomfortable in his body, and then he lifts his hands and signs carefully, I can year you, Yoongi. I'm listening to you right now. I am talking to you, Seokjin emphasizes heavily, right now. Is that not enough?

Yoongi stares at Seokjin's hands. The bent ends of his fingers. A little clumsy as they move, much like the rest of his body, but gentle in a familiar way.

"You're afraid of miscommunication," Seokjin says aloud, dropping his arms. "You're afraid of people not understanding you. That's why you don't try. That's why you shy away. But you haven't seemed to notice that you've got some people in your life who you've let in pretty deep and guess what? We're still here." His voice softens. "We're going to be here. We want to be here. Even when you're distant. Even when you mess up. We want to be here."

Yoongi, a bit too whelmed to move, just ducks his head and mouths, Okay.

Seokjin slaps a hand against his thigh. "Fantastic. Anything else you're harboring before we go back to pretending we don't have emotions or real world problems?"

Yoongi kicks his boot against the rail of his stool. I'm struggling in class.

"With grades?"

With my thesis. An opus. Album of songs.

Seokjin hums. Yoongi hasn't told him what he's been working on. Yoongi hasn't told anyone, though. "What's the problem?"

Yoongi gives him a pointed stare and Seokjin winks at him.

"Not able to say what you're trying to say?"

Feeling a little stretched thin, Yoongi nods. He wishes he could just kill this conversation. Stuff everything that's been shared back into his chest because it's a little empty inside now.

No, maybe not empty. Sure, there's some space in there, but Yoongi doesn't feel like he does after an attack, hollow and torn open. Nowhere to go. Instead he's weighted, like maybe there's room to let something else, something better in, now that some of the bad things are out.

"Namjoon would probably give a belligerent eye-roll if he heard me say this," Seokjin speaks up, twirling an empty shot glass between his fingers, "but have you tried just getting everything out and not worrying about if it's perfect on the first go?" Yoongi edges up a brow and Seokjin grins. Yoongi relaxes at the sight of it and feels a strange warmth start to spread down his neck. "Not everything you do has to be some award-winning whatever from the start. Mistakes are normal. Experimenting is normal. If you're not getting the right sound or feeling or whatever, isn't that normal, too? Just try something different. Approach it from another angle."

But I want it to be perfect, Yoongi mouths, and Seokjin whispers something unintelligible under his breath and tilts his head so Yoongi can't read him. When he turns back, he's wearing that coy smirk of his.

"Well, there is only one perfect man on this earth and it most certainly is me, so unfortunately, you're gonna have to just suck it up, Yoongi-chi. Mess up a bit. Have fun with it. I feel like making music should be fun? You and Joon are always so serious about it."

The warmth settles in just behind his ribs, and Yoongi watches Seokjin for a long moment. So long that Seokjin starts to wilt under his stare, ears flushing so red it spreads down to his neck.

He clears his throat. "Anything else? Your half hour session is almost up. Better make it good."

Jungkook, Yoongi mouths without thinking.

"Jungkookie?" Seokjin repeats.

And Yoongi could talk about Jungkook. The accident. How it still feels like yesterday. That he hasn't moved forward at all. Could mention what it is he sees during his flashbacks. The guilt, the guilt, the guilt. Could even bring up a few days ago—that weird feeling he had in the gallery. Their argument on the street.

Instead he mouths, He's been acting weird. Dating around. Something's up.

Seokjin sits there for a minute, pursing his lips, tapping his middle fingers along the sides of his bowl. Eventually he says, starting off slow, "You ever think that maybe Jungkook isn't dating those people because he wants their attention, but maybe because he wants someone else's?"

Yoongi frowns, leaning his chin into his hand. Jungkook can have anyone he wants. He's lovely.

"He is," Seokjin agrees, still looking forward. "But I don't want him that way. Hoseok doesn't want him that way. You. You don't want him that way, do you?"

Yoongi thinks about it, the possibility of dating Jungkook, but all that comes to mind is that warm April day. All that comes to mind is this beautiful boy whom he wants to give the world, want to be happy; but anything besides that?

A flash of gold, that lilting voice. Taehyung, running his fingers along Yoongi's spine as they sway in the snow.

No , Yoongi shakes his head, reaching up to clutch at his heart. No, I don't.

"So no, he can't have anyone he wants," Seokjin states, finally relaxing into his chair, "and there's a high possibility that the person he wants? They probably think like us. They probably don't want him that way."

That's rough.

"Yeah," Seokjin exhales long and slow, taking another shot. "Yeah, it is."

Seokjin looks at him then, dark eyes shiny and sad. Understanding uncomfortably settles Yoongi.

Session's still open, Yoongi mouths. Want to talk about something?

Seokjin, for just a second, seems to consider it. Opening up about whatever it is that just made him take five shots. Acknowledging what it is that's had him pulling away so harshly lately.

But his eyes just roam Yoongi's face. The corners of his mouth curl upward in a wry grin. He shakes his head. "Maybe next year."

Yoongi taps the table to get him to look back over. Seokjin gaze drifts and Yoongi signs, I love you a lot, hyung .

"You're pretty okay yourself." Seokjin pats his hand and says softly to his noodles, "I love you a lot, too, Yoongi."

~~~

Yoongi's never had the experience of walking into a room and not being able to hear a sound. It's disorienting, when he pauses in the doorway as, one by one, each section of the orchestra stills in their warm-ups when they spot him hovering at the threshold to the theatre. It's a domino effect of surprise, and what lacking sound there is in music is made up for in soft murmurings as he crosses the auditorium to approach the stage.

The Steinway is there and waiting for him, now tucked behind the violins. It catches him off guard when he realizes it's been a few Sundays since he's visited, and Yoongi tries to slip into a better headspace as ducks his head in greeting at the people he passes and settles into his seat. He warms up his fingers, shakes out his wrists. Starts going through his scales, flipping between long-shorts and short-longs, switching into some improv when that doesn't make his mind stray enough.

The whispers don't die, but the music is bustling again, a hodge-podge mess of instruments all following their own rhythm. There's a small glob of hysteria settling against his windpipe, so Yoongi flips his key signature and closes his eyes, letting the monotony of drills unglue him.

He's here. He's here and he committed and he can't back out now despite how it feels like his heart is ten times too big in his chest and is crushing all his other organs, cutting off his breath.

I'm tired of hiding, Hoseok had said. No more hiding.

No more hiding, no more hiding, no more locking himself away.

Yoongi must finally drift at some point because it doesn't register when someone flutters up to his bench, not until they clear their throat during a lull in his playing.

Yoongi flinches and the girl, another grad student, Kim Hayeon from his comp class, Yoongi recognizes, lets a laugh tumble from her mouth.

"Sorry, Yoongi-ssi, didn't mean to scare you." She bites her bottom lip, then says with unrestrained enthusiasm in her chirpy, bird-like voice, "I'm so happy you agreed to play with us, Yoongi-ssi."

Yoongi, hand poised where he was pulling his whiteboard out, pauses to look back to her.

"I heard you play our freshmen year," she continues, eyes strangely bright. Like Jimin. Warm, but a little mischievous. "I'm clarinet, by the way. I always hoped you'd join orchestra, but I can totally see why you wouldn't."

Yoongi's mouth tugs down automatically and she must see it because her eyes go wide. "Holy shit, sorry, that was so presumptuous of me."

It's fine, Yoongi writes out to her. I get that a lot. People tend to avoid me.

"Get what?" She repeats, glancing back up to him. Something in his face must spark recognition in hers because she laughs at him, but it's completely transparent and kind. "Yoongi-ssi, we don't avoid you because you're mute , we avoid you because you're talented as fuck."

Yoongi's lips part in a small, oh .

"Yeah, I mean, you are intimidating," she shrugs, nonplussed. "And in our first couple classes together I thought you were real moody; but if someone asks you for help, you help. If a professor asks a question, you answer. You put in more studio hours than any of us. The undergrad kids think you're an idol."

Oh, Yoongi mouths again.

"Plus," she winks laviously, "you dated Park Jimin who is like, a flower in human form."

He's actually vicious, Yoongi writes without hesitation, and Sooyoung glances at the pad and bursts out a laugh.

"God. I knew I liked you for a reason. Maybe we can finish out our final year as friends?"

Yoongi, still absolutely thrown by the progression of this conversation, finds himself nodding.

"Awesome," Hayeon claps, then spins on her heel and gestures for him to follow. "Let me introduce you to the kids. They're gonna flip the fuck out."

"Intimidating?" Namjoon perks, bemused as he looks over the top of his glasses at Yoongi. "I mean. When you're really into a song you can get a little unapproachable, but you've never been mean or distant about it."

I thought the entire department hated me, Yoongi signs, letting his head tip back so it rests against the wood back chair. Thought I was mean and misanthropic.

"I don't know that last word." Yoongi writes it out for him. "Ah, yeah. Not even close."

Yoongi's brow deepens farther as he stares up at the vaulted ceilings, tapping along to one of the scores he's learning from the show. A suite from Interstellar. They have him on a pipe organ. A pipe organ. Yoongi's never played the organ in his life, but Professor Yang just asked if he could give it a go during the next rehearsal for kicks and Yoongi, for whatever reason, said yes.

"Hyung," Namjoon says, his voice easy like his smile when Yoongi finally pries his eyes away from overhead to look at him. "I knew you were humble, but seriously? The reason why no one talks to you isn't because you're rude or scary; it's because you had half the credentials of the undergrad class combined by the time you were twelve."

Embarrassment makes Yoongi squint, and Namjoon just shakes his head and picks his pen back up to write.

Yoongi doesn't have essays like him, which he will be forever grateful for. Even the knowledge that Taehyung is somewhere in here, floating around in his big yellow sweatshirt helping lost freshmen, isn't an appealing enough thought to keep him in here for hours on end. Too quiet. Too cold.

Yoongi taps the table and namjoon glances up.

You don't think, Yoongi starts, drops his hands. Picks them up again. You don't think she was lying, right? That the reason no one talks to me is because it's too much trouble?

Namjoon frowns, his cheeks dimpling out in the wrong way, but he doesn't even think it over when he says, "Hyung. I'm not going to lie to you and say that there aren't people in this world who ignore you or look down on you because of your disability. But I can say that your professors and your classmates admire the fuck out of you. Not just because you're an incredible musician, but because you're kind and passionate and someone to look up to and aspire to be."

Yoongi's mouth opens. Closes. He looks back to the ceiling.

"Yeah," Namjoon clicks. "Hayeon wasn't lying. And it speaks lowly of her character for you to think that."

You're right.

"You've got to trust people, Yoongi. Let people in."

Yoongi slumps down further. I'm trying.

"I know. I see it. Everyone sees it." Namjoon clears his throat. "We're proud of you. I'm proud of you."

Yoongi scowls and sticks out his tongue, and Namjoon's tree of a leg shoots out to kick him under the table. Yoongi doesn't retaliate and Namjoon harumphs, then starts reading quietly aloud about Nicomachean ethics that Yoongi can't fathom one bit but nods and taps his fingers at what he thinks are the right places.

"Hyungs," a voice says from overhead, and Yoongi opens his eyes and Taehyung peers down at him, his smile making his eyes curl prettily. "I'm about to go on break and run to the café. Want anything?"

Now that Yoongi has acknowledged the true extent of his rather ill-timed feelings for Taehyung, it's become even harder to ignore just how gorgeous he is. Even in his lumpy sunshine sweater and his hair tied back in a small pony and a sleep booger at the corner of his eye he's beautiful. Like someone he wants to come home to.

Yoongi reaches up and Taehyung, without question, leans down so that Yoongi can brush a thumb under his eye and get the clump off.

"Thanks, hyung," Taehyung murmurs. "Do you want some coffee?"

Yoongi nods and Taehyung's smile is so infectious that Yoongi returns it without thinking. When he looks back over to Namjoon to see if he wants something, Namjoon has on the same expression he wore when a professor dropped him a letter grade on a final essay because he wrote too much.

("I went over by five pages. So what. How can I possibly assess the contribution of reason and emotion in moral judgment through the social intuitionist mode in less than fourteen pages?")

Yoongi shudders at the memory of that conversation.

Yoongi shudders at the look Namjoon is sending him.

"Can you get me one of Seokjin-hyung's maple bread things?" Namjoon asks, and Taehyung nods and slides a hand over Yoongi's shoulder as he skips off towards the breakroom.

What the fuck, Namjoon signs frantically, and the only time Namjoon's hands aren't clumsy is when he's cussing.

Fuck off, Yoongi sends back, but Namjoon just digs his foot into Yoongi's and whispers,

"You look like you ate a fucking star, what the hell is going on between you two, now?" He blinks and gasps, "Hobi was right, you are secretly dating."

We're friends, Yoongi signs, eyes narrowed and lip curled. Friends.

"I don't look at you like that."

Then maybe you're not a very good friend.

"Or maybe I don't want to wine and dine you?" Namjoon says. "The kid's a fucking lightbulb around you, too."

"I'll be back soon," Taehyung says, suddenly coming up from behind, and as if sensing the conversation, flashes a luminous, luminous smile at Yoongi. Bigger than the moon.

Yoongi sighs, a soft and foreign sound slipping out, and Namjoon's eyes widen. Yoongi's eyes widen. Taehyung just laughs and presses a palm to the back of Yoongi's neck before he slips away to head for the entrance.

As soon as he's out of range Namjoon whistles lowly. "God, you're so whipped, hyung."

He says it the same way Hoseok did. Playful, but not so much cheeky as it is happy. Happy for him. Hopeful maybe.

Yoongi's cheeks sting and he ducks his head to pull up his recording program, ignoring Namjoon's soft laughter and the lingering warmth on his skin.

~~~

"Hyung, I have to tell you something."

Yoongi can't decide if Taehyung's smile is real or fake, which is alarming for various reasons.

Yoongi closes his laptop and nods, signally for Taehyung to continue speaking.

"I got accepted into an internship for the summer," Taehyung says, hands twisting in his lap, at odds with the words that just left his mouth.

That's amazing, Tae, Yoongi writes, flipping his phone around for Taehyung to read. And it is. Internships in the city are hard to come by but they're necessary for what Taehyung wants to pursue. This is incredible and Yoongi's just confused why Taehyung is sitting before him like this, hunched and unsure, his voice tepid.

"Yeah, it is," Taehyung says, more to his lap than to Yoongi. Look up at me , Yoongi wants to tell him. Please look at me. "I didn't think I'd get it. It was more to kind of get my name in the pool, y'know? But I got it."

The last part is said under his breath, like Taehyung is still rolling the fact around in his mind. Yoongi wishes he could take Taehyung's hand where he has them tightly wound on his thighs. Wonders, for a moment, why he can't.

Yoongi reaches across the table, palm up, and Taehyung sucks in a breath and braids their fingers together.

"It's a teaching program at a this center for kids with special needs," Taehyung tells him in a low voice, "They do some incredible forms of therapy with them, including art and music."

Yoongi squeezes his hand, encouraging him on.

"It's for three months," Taehyung says, swallowing thickly, finally looking up to him. "It's in New York."

Yoongi draws his hand back and sees it, the moment Taehyung's face crumples, like something inside of him just fell apart.

Yoongi grabs a clean napkin and a pen from his backpack and writes by hand because this is important. Taehyung has to know this is important.

Kim Taehyung. You are going to go to New York, and you are going to learn and see so much, and you are going to help so many children, and you are going to spread so much love, and I am so proud of you.

Taehyung reads over his words a few times, hands trembling, and says faintly, "Okay, hyung."

Yoongi takes out another napkin to write on and hand sit over.

And I will be back here, probably in this very seat, waiting for you to come home.

"Okay, hyung," Taehyung smiles softly.

And if you want, you have all our phone numbers, and you can talk to us if you get a little lonely.

"Okay, hyung," Taehyung nods, looking up to him, opening up his fingers for Yoongi to take. He does.

You can talk to me, Yoongi writes without looking away from him, without letting him go, if you get a little lonely.

"Okay, hyung," Taehyung says, and Yoongi wants to kiss him and wonders, for a moment, why he can't.

~~~

"Yoongi-ssi, how are we doing this week?"

Dr. Choi is nice. She keeps her hair in a short bob and her fingernails neatly trimmed. She doesn't have a Seoul dialect, instead something a little earthier. Something that reminds him of home. Her syllables flow together sometimes, long in places they should be short. Like a lullaby. Often Yoongi finds himself drifting during their chats.

Not today, though. This morning Yoongi is oddly alert. Oddly, because it isn't the kind of awareness that stems from being in a room full of whispering people or when he has too much music in his head and not enough time to get it out before he forgets. More like he's grounded. Has the succulent on her desk always been there? That shelf of books? That back window? How has Yoongi never noticed the window overlooking the park before?

"Yoongi-ssi, are you with me?" She asks, hands following along with her words. Yoongi told her she doesn't have to sign to him, for him, but she insists.

Yoongi pulls his gaze from the back wall and breathes.

He feels okay.

He feels okay. And because he feels okay, because he has this strange sense of feeling very much so like a person on this earth, he tells her. Everything. The doubt and the fear and the guilt. All of it she's heard before, but Yoongi feels like it's different this time. Like he's a little more removed. Like one of his flashbacks, but instead of being in first person, he's more of a bystander watching things play out. Sympathetic and scared, but not so attached.

And then Yoongi keeps talking to her, hands cramping with how much they're moving, but Dr. Choi doesn't try to slow him down or stop him. So he tells her about school. Tells her about how his dad has been sick. His fight with a friend. Tells her about this fat cat that he thinks might actually be an incarnated god, but don't write that down , because that will make me sound crazy.

She laughs at that, and Yoongi wonders if she's ever laughed before in front of him.

And then Yoongi not only feels okay, he feels good. So he tells her about Taehyung. About a beautiful boy who sees the world in such an enormous, delicate way. A boy who just loves to love, and how Yoongi thinks he might love him.

He's leaving, Yoongi signs, heart thumping crazily from how much he just moved. How much he just revealed. He's leaving for a long time, though.

"But he's coming back?" She asks, hands moving in time with her voice.

Yeah.

"You don't have to be next to someone to talk to them," she says, her voice taking on that southern lilt, like she thinks he needs to hear it. "Just be there for him the ways you know how. There's no wrong way to love someone, afterall."

Yoongi leaves her office feeling unraveled. He's shaking, but he doesn't cry, even though he probably could. Instead he just takes a deep breath , sucking in all the cold air he can, and texts Jungkook a song he heard the other day with lyrics that brought his laughter to mind.

~~~

Towards the end of his adolescent career, when he was doing back-to-back competitions and auditions and interviews, Yoongi just... stopped. Everything. Listening. Feeling. Seeing. He thought people would notice that when he played he couldn't actually hear any of the notes. That he was going from muscle memory.

But no one did. He kept winning awards and kept receiving invitations and, eventually, Yoongi just... stopped. Everything.

That's why he doesn't think he'll remember this night. Rehearsals have been going well, are something he's even found himself looking forward to. The whispering has tapered off. Professor Lim gripes at him at least once or twice for not following along with the others (always too fast, Yoongi-ssi, slow down a bit, stay with us), but it's usually accompanied by a wink. Hayeon invites him out with some of the other grad students for drinks one night and Yoongi doesn't turn her down.

So it doesn't quite strike him, not until he's walking out on stage with four dozen other people in blacktie attire and his closest friends in the audience, that he's about to perform for an audience for the first time in a decade.

Professor Lim's hands lift, and for the next sixty minutes, Yoongi feels mechanical and wound-tight. He hits every note perfectly but it feels as if he's trying to sight-read across a freeway. Even when the audience claps along to the Pirates melody, laughing when the brass section dawns pirate hats, Yoongi can't bring himself to lift his head, too focused on the movement of his fingers. Too whelmed with mulling over the reason why he's here. Not just in this room, but in this program. Why did they let him in? What did they see him? What does anyone see in him? Then? Now? Why is he still here?

Yoongi's heart twists and he almost misses the conclusion to the suite. It's not major, no one probably heard it, but when he finally forces his gaze up, he spots Professor Lim watching him, one brow raised. Not angry, just concerned.

Shame rolls through Yoongi's stomach, rising up his throat, and he considers leaving the stage even though they still have one more suite. The most important one, Yoongi remembers, finally forcing himself to stand and cross over to the organ tucked just a little further back into the section.

He can't do this. Yoongi thought he was doing well but it was just a delusion. A few good moments don't make this better. Make him better. What was he thinking?

Yoongi lifts his hand, signalling for Lim to wait, and Yoongi can't play like this. He can't keep playing like this. There's a reason he stopped. There's a reason he said he'd never return and Yoongi's starting to remember what that was as this numbness spreads through up his arms, seizing his chest.

Why do you want to play so bad? His mom asked him in elementary. Why the piano?

Yoongi pinches his eyes shut. He can't remember his first moments at a piano, far too young for those memories to have stayed; but he can recall sitting alone at the upright in the hall outside his father's office, tinkering to his own melody instead of someone else's.

Yoongi remembers the first song he wrote. Remembers how he felt, building this imaginary world. Gentle, like a sunshower, none of the bitterness or anger or fear that seems to lace his words these days. What happened to him? Where did that memory go?

What do you want to say? Professor Yang had asked him at the start of his program. What do you want to share with others?

As if waking from a dream, Yoongi's eyes flutter open, and the first face he sees across the chairs, in the front row of the balcony, is Jungkook.

The others are there, surely they are, but Yoongi just opens his mouth to, what? What could Yoongi possibly tell him? What does he want to say?

Jungkook leans forward, and just before the house lights fall, Yoongi sees him lift his hand. Signs, in one swift movement, I love you.

The baton falls in the corner of his eye. Yoongi drops his hands to the keys, momentarily forgetting he's on the organ, and begins to work his way through this haunting, undulating rhythm. The small notes, dancing and shimmering under his fingers. This tension building around him as the strings start to soar before being fed into the winds, the brass urgently piercing through the sound as the notes under Yoongi's hand tumble into the hall, growing and growing and growing until the percussion rumbles in, the crescendo trembling around them, Yoongi's heart beating so crazy in the back of his throat he just wants to yell and then—

Silence.

Yoongi remembers this moment. Not from rehearsal. Not from past performances. But from a sidewalk on an afternoon in April with an impossibly blue sky hanging overhead.

That second, just before the car hit, when the world fell eerily quiet.

Cheers erupt around him as Yoongi gasps, staring down at his hands, but the loop doesn't come. Yoongi looks overhead and sees the rafters. Turns to his right to see Hayeon standing to bow with the rest of the woodwinds. There's sweat beading on his forehead, dampening his collar. The muscles in his right wrist are cramping. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Can hear Namjoon and Hoseok screeching from somewhere above...

The heaviness doesn't come.

The hopelessness doesn't come.

The flashback... It doesn't come.

Yoongi stands so abruptly his bench clatters backwards. Heads turn his way as Yoongi scrambles to the stage wings, slipping behind one curtain and then another, pressing past the stage crew, stumbling out into the back hall where some of the audience members are starting to trickle into and then—

"Hyung," Jimin breathes into his neck, pulling him in close. "Holy shit, hyung, I've never heard you play like that."

Yoongi takes a deep inhale of Jimin's orange scented shampoo and promptly starts bawling.

"Jimin, let him go," Namjoon calls out, breathless as he jogs down the corridor. "He's panicking, let him go."

Yoongi shakes his head, digging his fingers into the back of Jimin's dress shirt to get him to stay.

No , he mouths, pressing himself into Jimin's shoulder. No, no, no.

"Hyung," Namjoon whispers, closer now. "Hyung, are you here?"

Yoongi nods and nods and nods because he hasn't felt this aware of himself in months and it's terrifying but it feels right . He feels right. And then there's s a hand on the back of his head, on his arm, shifting and tugging him until he's tucked under someone's chin.

"Hyung," Jungkook murmurs against his temple, rocking them side to side, hand rubbing up and down his spine. "Hyung, I love you, I'm sorry."

I'm so sorry, Yoongi wants to say.

Please don't leave, he wants to say.

You are so loved, he wants to say, wants to say, wants to say.