Second
bangtan
suga-centric, suga/jungkook + pg-13
Yoongi and Jungkook don't meet under the best circumstances.
Thank you x100000 to my beta, E, who helped me so much and was such a joy to work with <3 Thank you so much Celine, for the last minute emergency hand-holding!!!! I would not have done it without you <3 To my recipient: I hope you'll enjoy this story, even though I took a couple of liberties with the prompt |D
elfscouts page
There are a few ways Yoongi could have met Jungkook.
In high school, he could have been one of the many freshman Seokjin awkwardly adopted and doted on until his graduation. Perhaps, even though they hovered around the peripheries of their high school social circles, they never spoke a single sentence to one another.
Jungkook could have been one of the kids who walked past Namjoon and Yoongi’s illegal street racing crew after their hagwon. He could have seen them when they were getting into their cars, and would choose to merely stare. The kid could have lingered, the inked words-Min Yoongi-on his wrist thrumming. Under the guise of night, Yoongi might have caught his eye, felt the twinge on his own wrist, and slipped on his helmet, anyway.
The kid would have been gone when Yoongi took off his helmet at the end of the race.
Min Yoongi would not go after Jeon Jungkook. They would live adjacent lives, and Yoongi would have been alright with that.
1.
Not like this. What actually happens is: Yoongi runs into Jungkook in front of his company’s main entrance. He’s just opening the door when his wrist twinges hard enough for him to look up at the boy standing in front of him. There’s no cover of darkness for Yoongi to pretend he didn’t see Jungkook. It’s 10 A.M. on a Monday, and Jungkook is flat-out gawking with wide-eyes and a slack jaw.
“What,” Yoongi mutters, mostly to himself, and presses the raised edges of ink against his jeans. Jungkook’s standing stock still, and it makes Yoongi shuffle his feet like a contrite schoolboy.
He has fantasized about this moment for so many times, thought about the ways he would reject his soulmate: vehemently and without care. Now, with his soulmate standing in front of him, Yoongi can barely open his mouth to talk.
Instead, Jeon Jungkook grits his teeth, turns, and storms away.
Well.
*
“It’s not that I would have gone after him, but,” Yoongi whines to Namjoon, who seems more interested in smoking than listening to Yoongi’s woes. “It’s insulting. My client meeting was shit because my pride was bruised.”
Namjoon says nothing, only passes the cigarette over to Yoongi. Yoongi takes a half-hearted draw and drops it, stamps the flame out. They’re bumming out at one of the tables behind the neighborhood convenience store, gorging on ramen and fries before Namjoon’s first race of the night.
After a long while, Namjoon says, “that was expensive.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not. Hyung, when have you been sorry?” Namjoon whines. Yoongi winces, because the wound of his withdrawal is still too open and fresh, and he tucks his chin into his scarf.
Namjoon’s laughter cuts off like a sharp knife against the spacious quiet of the neighborhood. He rubs the back of his neck, smiling ruefully. “You sure you don’t wanna sit in?” he asks.
Yoongi shakes his head with a huff. “Namjoon, I told you, I’m trying to-”
“Jung Hoseok’s gonna be there tonight, you know.” Even though they’re sitting side-by-side, Namjoon makes the effort to turn towards Yoongi to look at his face.
Yoongi stares down at his unwashed jeans, and says, “I have to go shower and hit the studio. Got a client meeting first thing tomorrow.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Namjoon withdraw and shuffle around in his seat to light a new cigarette. There’s the telltale rasp of the spark wheel, and Namjoon takes his first inhale.
“So, civilian life.” Yoongi can hear the friendly taunt in his voice. Can you do it? Can you really go back and live a normal life after all of this?
Yoongi nods, still staring at his jeans. He’s started picking at the ripped helm of the denim, angling his wrist so that the name Jeon Jungkook is face-down. “It’s not so bad.”
Namjoon shrugs. “I guess,” he says, and stamps the cigarette out. He stands up and pulls up his hood, and Yoongi watches him, feeling a little bereft.
“Namjoon,” he calls, and then stops himself. Namjoon turns around, his eyes narrowed, anticipating. “I’ll call you soon,” Yoongi finishes.
Namjoon turns back and strides out of the little backyard. His trainers barely make a sound against the pavement.
*
In ‘12, Min Yoongi was the most prominent member in Namjoon’s crew, and arguably, in the entire South Korean street racing scene. Jung Hoseok entered the scene in ‘13 and then proceeded to single-handedly slaughter Yoongi and Namjoon’s team in all subsequent races.
In ‘15, Yoongi works as a composer for D-grade idol groups in a small-medium entertainment company.
It’s midnight when he settles into his studio and readies himself for his hopefully final all-nighter. Bangtan Sonyeondan’s comeback is in one and a half months, and Bang PD expects nothing but perfection.
Come morning, his track is finished, but not complete. Nothing like the thrill of the race, out in reality. Regardless, Yoongi steps out of the company building with a strange clenching in his chest.
His whole world tilts.
2.
When he rights himself, he looks up to see one Jeon Jungkook staring down at him. Yoongi almost manages to curb the instinct to shuffle his feet. “What-” he manages to say, before Jungkook is shouldering past him and walking into the building.
“He works here?” Yoongi mutters, eyes following Jungkook into the building. “Un-fucking-believable.” Jungkook’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears. Yoongi goes to his client meeting.
*
“-And he just bumped his shoulder into mine like the rascal that he is,” Yoongi finishes with a sign. The convenience store ramen and fries lie in front of him, almost untouched.
Namjoon takes the last puff of his cigarette and tosses it to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his shoe. “Sounds like a punk,” he says, and proceeds to light another cigarette. Namjoon inhales, and exhales the smoke with a hiss. “He sounds like you. Want one?” He dangles the box of cigarettes in front of Yoongi’s face.
Yoongi snorts. “Go fuck yourself. And no, I’m trying to quit.”
Namjoon smirks up at him. “Just trying?”
“Yah.” Yoongi lightly cuffs Namjoon on the back of his head. Namjoon grins and ducks away. “You ready for the race?”
Namjoon sighs. “Truthfully,” he says, and shifts closer to Yoongi, steepling his fingers. Yoongi has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “We need someone like you-”
“Namjoon,” Yoongi protests. “I’m not doing that anymore...”
“I know, I know. Listen.” Namjoon puts up his hands, and Yoongi crosses his arms. “It’s one race. Jung Hoseok won’t even know what hit him tonight.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him.”
Namjoon merely cocks his head at Yoongi with one eyebrow raised. “One race, hyung,” he says. “The best with the best, just like how we used to do it.”
Yoongi sighs, and looks up at the empty night sky. “You really have no one else?”
*
When Yoongi gets out of the car amidst screams of congratulations, he is swept up into hugs and boisterous clapping. He has to fight his way out, only to see Namjoon beaming at him.
“I-” The words clog up at the back of Yoongi’s throat. “I need to go to work,” he says, and stumbles away. He hears Namjoon calling for him, and quickens his footsteps.
In the studio, he feels the residual adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins that he hardly needs any caffeine. Strangely, his head is completely clear. He works throughout the night.
When the sun rises, the rays peeking through the blinds of his small window, Yoongi is drained, but his latest project is at least finished. All he wants to do is to lie down on the floor and sleep for twelve hours straight, but he has an important client meeting to attend.
He dumps the last of his papers into his briefcase as he shuffles to the main entrance of the building. Somehow he’s even more lethargic than usual. The world shifts and Yoongi stumbles, dizzy.
The door swings open from the other side, and his briefcase pops back open and plants itself, mouth-first, onto the pavement.
“I’m so sorry,” someone exclaims, and their hands come to pick up Yoongi’s briefcase and press it into Yoongi’s arms. “Here.”
Yoongi looks up to see-
3.
“Oh, come on.”
Jungkook takes a step back, looking rather timid for once. Yoongi thinks that he must not even be a day older than twenty. Trust his soulmate to be a punk-ass teenager.
Yoongi sticks out his left wrist, his sleeve pulled back enough for the tattoo to be clearly visible. “Hello, I’m Min Yoongi.”
The muscle in Jungkook’s cheek jumps, but he shakes Yoongi’s hand anyway. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
Yoongi disentangles gingerly, making sure the skin of their wrists don’t touch. The tattoo pulses, off-beat with his own, and Yoongi knows that it’s Jungkook’s heart that’s sinking like a stone.
“How old are you, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, and then immediately winces. There’s a reason why no one has ever told him that he’s a great conversationalist.
“I’m nineteen,” Jungkook says. No returning enquiry about Yoongi’s age. Yoongi bites his lip, and closes his briefcase clasp.
“Well,” Yoongi says. Jungkook’s expression is stony. “It’s good to meet you.” And without waiting for an answer, he walks away with his face flaming.
Jungkook doesn’t go after him; Yoongi checks when turning the corner.
*
Bang PD calls Yoongi right after his meeting with Song-sshi, and asks if he can ”come around to meet the idol group and discuss their suggestions for your newest composition sometime”. Yoongi makes it back to the office in thirty minutes, because Bang PD’s “sometime” actually means “right the fuck now”.
Yoongi swings open the meeting room door to a chorus of greetings. The kids bow ninety degrees, and when they straighten, Yoongi feels himself freeze up.
Jungkook stands in the middle of the group of five boys, his eyes drawn dark and his acne scars hidden. He looks like a true idol, and Yoongi doesn’t know how he’s missed it before. Jungkook’s eyes are wide when he finally sees Yoongi, and he almost forgets to sit back down with the rest of his team.
The boy next to Jungkook nudges him and points at Yoongi none-too-discreetly, and Jungkook shakes his head. The boy pats him on the back, and turns to his friend sitting on his other side. Jungkook watches them with furrowed eyebrows.
Yoongi bites his lip, readies his demo, and presses the play button. His melody is alright, but he knows that he needs to add more instruments into the background of the chorus. He tries to keep his eyes on everyone but Jungkook for the rest of the meeting. It’s difficult, as Jungkook rapid-fires so many suggestions that Yoongi can barely manage to write everything down.
When the boys leave for practice, Yoongi catches Jungkook turning back at the door to look at him again. Yoongi doesn’t know what to make of Jungkook’s expression, with his raised brows and questioning gaze.
He closes the door to his studio, and rests his forehead against the door frame.
*
“Hyung, you wanna go eat?” Namjoon asks over the phone.
It’s 8.30 P.M. and Yoongi’s already done with his composition. He presses the last note again, and says, “not today, Namjoon.”
“Alright.” Namjoon sounds small over the receiver. “Don’t work too hard.”
“You take care of yourself, too. And go kick Jung Hoseok’s ass for me.”
That gets a chuckle out of Namjoon. “Without you?”
Yoongi smiles against the receiver. “Thanks for the compliment. Shouldn’t you be training your new recruits?”
“They’re not as good as you,” Namjoon says. “Their turns are sloppy as fuck.”
“To be fair,” Yoongi says lightly, “I wasn’t very good in the beginning, either.”
“Nah, you were good.” Yoongi rolls his eyes and tsks. Namjoon sighs. “Fine, I’ll try. Happy?”
“Just ‘try’?”
“Aye, hyung,” Namjoon whines. “I’m hanging up if you’re gonna be like this.”
4.
Yoongi wakes up in his own duvet for once, and shuffles to his client’s meeting distracted. As he fights his third yawn in ten minutes, Song-sshi stops writing to smile at him. “Long night at the studio?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, and clears his throat. “Long night.”
He stumbles into the company building at 6 P.M. with his evening cup of coffee. There’s music playing at the large practice room at the far end of the floor.
The notes he made in the meeting are missing, but Yoongi remembers what he wrote. He finishes the project within minutes, thinking of Jungkook’s words. Yoongi looks at his completed project, and lets out a huff of disbelieving laughter.
The music is still playing down the corridor. He shuts his laptop and follows the music.
In the practice room, the five boys are dancing hard to the last notes of their new title song. The moment the music stops, four out of the five boys simultaneously flop down to the ground. Yoongi spots Jungkook standing aways from the door, his bangs plastered all over his forehead. As if sensing his gaze, Jungkook looks up, and they lock eyes. Yoongi, embarrassed at being caught, waves.
Jungkook tilts his head to the side, considering. And then he waves back.
######
Yoongi wakes up to the blare of his ringtone.
“Hello,” he mutters into the receiver, and shuffles over to the side of his bed to put on his slippers. He bolts wide awake when he hears the voice on the other line.
“Ah, yes, Song-ssi. No, that’s no problem at all,” Yoongi rattles off. “Thank you so much, I’ll let Bang PD-nim know of your approval immediately.” He disconnects the call, rolls over, and screams his excitement into his pillow.
*
It’s 10 A.M. on a Tuesday.
Yoongi is opening the door to his company building just as someone pulls from the other side. He looks up to see Jungkook standing in front of him, behind the glass panel like a reflection. Yoongi lets the laughter bubble out, a crescendo.
suga-centric, suga/jungkook + pg-13
Yoongi and Jungkook don't meet under the best circumstances.
Thank you x100000 to my beta, E, who helped me so much and was such a joy to work with <3 Thank you so much Celine, for the last minute emergency hand-holding!!!! I would not have done it without you <3 To my recipient: I hope you'll enjoy this story, even though I took a couple of liberties with the prompt |D
elfscouts page
There are a few ways Yoongi could have met Jungkook.
In high school, he could have been one of the many freshman Seokjin awkwardly adopted and doted on until his graduation. Perhaps, even though they hovered around the peripheries of their high school social circles, they never spoke a single sentence to one another.
Jungkook could have been one of the kids who walked past Namjoon and Yoongi’s illegal street racing crew after their hagwon. He could have seen them when they were getting into their cars, and would choose to merely stare. The kid could have lingered, the inked words-Min Yoongi-on his wrist thrumming. Under the guise of night, Yoongi might have caught his eye, felt the twinge on his own wrist, and slipped on his helmet, anyway.
The kid would have been gone when Yoongi took off his helmet at the end of the race.
Min Yoongi would not go after Jeon Jungkook. They would live adjacent lives, and Yoongi would have been alright with that.
1.
Not like this. What actually happens is: Yoongi runs into Jungkook in front of his company’s main entrance. He’s just opening the door when his wrist twinges hard enough for him to look up at the boy standing in front of him. There’s no cover of darkness for Yoongi to pretend he didn’t see Jungkook. It’s 10 A.M. on a Monday, and Jungkook is flat-out gawking with wide-eyes and a slack jaw.
“What,” Yoongi mutters, mostly to himself, and presses the raised edges of ink against his jeans. Jungkook’s standing stock still, and it makes Yoongi shuffle his feet like a contrite schoolboy.
He has fantasized about this moment for so many times, thought about the ways he would reject his soulmate: vehemently and without care. Now, with his soulmate standing in front of him, Yoongi can barely open his mouth to talk.
Instead, Jeon Jungkook grits his teeth, turns, and storms away.
Well.
*
“It’s not that I would have gone after him, but,” Yoongi whines to Namjoon, who seems more interested in smoking than listening to Yoongi’s woes. “It’s insulting. My client meeting was shit because my pride was bruised.”
Namjoon says nothing, only passes the cigarette over to Yoongi. Yoongi takes a half-hearted draw and drops it, stamps the flame out. They’re bumming out at one of the tables behind the neighborhood convenience store, gorging on ramen and fries before Namjoon’s first race of the night.
After a long while, Namjoon says, “that was expensive.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not. Hyung, when have you been sorry?” Namjoon whines. Yoongi winces, because the wound of his withdrawal is still too open and fresh, and he tucks his chin into his scarf.
Namjoon’s laughter cuts off like a sharp knife against the spacious quiet of the neighborhood. He rubs the back of his neck, smiling ruefully. “You sure you don’t wanna sit in?” he asks.
Yoongi shakes his head with a huff. “Namjoon, I told you, I’m trying to-”
“Jung Hoseok’s gonna be there tonight, you know.” Even though they’re sitting side-by-side, Namjoon makes the effort to turn towards Yoongi to look at his face.
Yoongi stares down at his unwashed jeans, and says, “I have to go shower and hit the studio. Got a client meeting first thing tomorrow.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Namjoon withdraw and shuffle around in his seat to light a new cigarette. There’s the telltale rasp of the spark wheel, and Namjoon takes his first inhale.
“So, civilian life.” Yoongi can hear the friendly taunt in his voice. Can you do it? Can you really go back and live a normal life after all of this?
Yoongi nods, still staring at his jeans. He’s started picking at the ripped helm of the denim, angling his wrist so that the name Jeon Jungkook is face-down. “It’s not so bad.”
Namjoon shrugs. “I guess,” he says, and stamps the cigarette out. He stands up and pulls up his hood, and Yoongi watches him, feeling a little bereft.
“Namjoon,” he calls, and then stops himself. Namjoon turns around, his eyes narrowed, anticipating. “I’ll call you soon,” Yoongi finishes.
Namjoon turns back and strides out of the little backyard. His trainers barely make a sound against the pavement.
*
In ‘12, Min Yoongi was the most prominent member in Namjoon’s crew, and arguably, in the entire South Korean street racing scene. Jung Hoseok entered the scene in ‘13 and then proceeded to single-handedly slaughter Yoongi and Namjoon’s team in all subsequent races.
In ‘15, Yoongi works as a composer for D-grade idol groups in a small-medium entertainment company.
It’s midnight when he settles into his studio and readies himself for his hopefully final all-nighter. Bangtan Sonyeondan’s comeback is in one and a half months, and Bang PD expects nothing but perfection.
Come morning, his track is finished, but not complete. Nothing like the thrill of the race, out in reality. Regardless, Yoongi steps out of the company building with a strange clenching in his chest.
His whole world tilts.
2.
When he rights himself, he looks up to see one Jeon Jungkook staring down at him. Yoongi almost manages to curb the instinct to shuffle his feet. “What-” he manages to say, before Jungkook is shouldering past him and walking into the building.
“He works here?” Yoongi mutters, eyes following Jungkook into the building. “Un-fucking-believable.” Jungkook’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears. Yoongi goes to his client meeting.
*
“-And he just bumped his shoulder into mine like the rascal that he is,” Yoongi finishes with a sign. The convenience store ramen and fries lie in front of him, almost untouched.
Namjoon takes the last puff of his cigarette and tosses it to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his shoe. “Sounds like a punk,” he says, and proceeds to light another cigarette. Namjoon inhales, and exhales the smoke with a hiss. “He sounds like you. Want one?” He dangles the box of cigarettes in front of Yoongi’s face.
Yoongi snorts. “Go fuck yourself. And no, I’m trying to quit.”
Namjoon smirks up at him. “Just trying?”
“Yah.” Yoongi lightly cuffs Namjoon on the back of his head. Namjoon grins and ducks away. “You ready for the race?”
Namjoon sighs. “Truthfully,” he says, and shifts closer to Yoongi, steepling his fingers. Yoongi has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “We need someone like you-”
“Namjoon,” Yoongi protests. “I’m not doing that anymore...”
“I know, I know. Listen.” Namjoon puts up his hands, and Yoongi crosses his arms. “It’s one race. Jung Hoseok won’t even know what hit him tonight.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him.”
Namjoon merely cocks his head at Yoongi with one eyebrow raised. “One race, hyung,” he says. “The best with the best, just like how we used to do it.”
Yoongi sighs, and looks up at the empty night sky. “You really have no one else?”
*
When Yoongi gets out of the car amidst screams of congratulations, he is swept up into hugs and boisterous clapping. He has to fight his way out, only to see Namjoon beaming at him.
“I-” The words clog up at the back of Yoongi’s throat. “I need to go to work,” he says, and stumbles away. He hears Namjoon calling for him, and quickens his footsteps.
In the studio, he feels the residual adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins that he hardly needs any caffeine. Strangely, his head is completely clear. He works throughout the night.
When the sun rises, the rays peeking through the blinds of his small window, Yoongi is drained, but his latest project is at least finished. All he wants to do is to lie down on the floor and sleep for twelve hours straight, but he has an important client meeting to attend.
He dumps the last of his papers into his briefcase as he shuffles to the main entrance of the building. Somehow he’s even more lethargic than usual. The world shifts and Yoongi stumbles, dizzy.
The door swings open from the other side, and his briefcase pops back open and plants itself, mouth-first, onto the pavement.
“I’m so sorry,” someone exclaims, and their hands come to pick up Yoongi’s briefcase and press it into Yoongi’s arms. “Here.”
Yoongi looks up to see-
3.
“Oh, come on.”
Jungkook takes a step back, looking rather timid for once. Yoongi thinks that he must not even be a day older than twenty. Trust his soulmate to be a punk-ass teenager.
Yoongi sticks out his left wrist, his sleeve pulled back enough for the tattoo to be clearly visible. “Hello, I’m Min Yoongi.”
The muscle in Jungkook’s cheek jumps, but he shakes Yoongi’s hand anyway. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
Yoongi disentangles gingerly, making sure the skin of their wrists don’t touch. The tattoo pulses, off-beat with his own, and Yoongi knows that it’s Jungkook’s heart that’s sinking like a stone.
“How old are you, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, and then immediately winces. There’s a reason why no one has ever told him that he’s a great conversationalist.
“I’m nineteen,” Jungkook says. No returning enquiry about Yoongi’s age. Yoongi bites his lip, and closes his briefcase clasp.
“Well,” Yoongi says. Jungkook’s expression is stony. “It’s good to meet you.” And without waiting for an answer, he walks away with his face flaming.
Jungkook doesn’t go after him; Yoongi checks when turning the corner.
*
Bang PD calls Yoongi right after his meeting with Song-sshi, and asks if he can ”come around to meet the idol group and discuss their suggestions for your newest composition sometime”. Yoongi makes it back to the office in thirty minutes, because Bang PD’s “sometime” actually means “right the fuck now”.
Yoongi swings open the meeting room door to a chorus of greetings. The kids bow ninety degrees, and when they straighten, Yoongi feels himself freeze up.
Jungkook stands in the middle of the group of five boys, his eyes drawn dark and his acne scars hidden. He looks like a true idol, and Yoongi doesn’t know how he’s missed it before. Jungkook’s eyes are wide when he finally sees Yoongi, and he almost forgets to sit back down with the rest of his team.
The boy next to Jungkook nudges him and points at Yoongi none-too-discreetly, and Jungkook shakes his head. The boy pats him on the back, and turns to his friend sitting on his other side. Jungkook watches them with furrowed eyebrows.
Yoongi bites his lip, readies his demo, and presses the play button. His melody is alright, but he knows that he needs to add more instruments into the background of the chorus. He tries to keep his eyes on everyone but Jungkook for the rest of the meeting. It’s difficult, as Jungkook rapid-fires so many suggestions that Yoongi can barely manage to write everything down.
When the boys leave for practice, Yoongi catches Jungkook turning back at the door to look at him again. Yoongi doesn’t know what to make of Jungkook’s expression, with his raised brows and questioning gaze.
He closes the door to his studio, and rests his forehead against the door frame.
*
“Hyung, you wanna go eat?” Namjoon asks over the phone.
It’s 8.30 P.M. and Yoongi’s already done with his composition. He presses the last note again, and says, “not today, Namjoon.”
“Alright.” Namjoon sounds small over the receiver. “Don’t work too hard.”
“You take care of yourself, too. And go kick Jung Hoseok’s ass for me.”
That gets a chuckle out of Namjoon. “Without you?”
Yoongi smiles against the receiver. “Thanks for the compliment. Shouldn’t you be training your new recruits?”
“They’re not as good as you,” Namjoon says. “Their turns are sloppy as fuck.”
“To be fair,” Yoongi says lightly, “I wasn’t very good in the beginning, either.”
“Nah, you were good.” Yoongi rolls his eyes and tsks. Namjoon sighs. “Fine, I’ll try. Happy?”
“Just ‘try’?”
“Aye, hyung,” Namjoon whines. “I’m hanging up if you’re gonna be like this.”
4.
Yoongi wakes up in his own duvet for once, and shuffles to his client’s meeting distracted. As he fights his third yawn in ten minutes, Song-sshi stops writing to smile at him. “Long night at the studio?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, and clears his throat. “Long night.”
He stumbles into the company building at 6 P.M. with his evening cup of coffee. There’s music playing at the large practice room at the far end of the floor.
The notes he made in the meeting are missing, but Yoongi remembers what he wrote. He finishes the project within minutes, thinking of Jungkook’s words. Yoongi looks at his completed project, and lets out a huff of disbelieving laughter.
The music is still playing down the corridor. He shuts his laptop and follows the music.
In the practice room, the five boys are dancing hard to the last notes of their new title song. The moment the music stops, four out of the five boys simultaneously flop down to the ground. Yoongi spots Jungkook standing aways from the door, his bangs plastered all over his forehead. As if sensing his gaze, Jungkook looks up, and they lock eyes. Yoongi, embarrassed at being caught, waves.
Jungkook tilts his head to the side, considering. And then he waves back.
######
Yoongi wakes up to the blare of his ringtone.
“Hello,” he mutters into the receiver, and shuffles over to the side of his bed to put on his slippers. He bolts wide awake when he hears the voice on the other line.
“Ah, yes, Song-ssi. No, that’s no problem at all,” Yoongi rattles off. “Thank you so much, I’ll let Bang PD-nim know of your approval immediately.” He disconnects the call, rolls over, and screams his excitement into his pillow.
*
It’s 10 A.M. on a Tuesday.
Yoongi is opening the door to his company building just as someone pulls from the other side. He looks up to see Jungkook standing in front of him, behind the glass panel like a reflection. Yoongi lets the laughter bubble out, a crescendo.