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Alright, here’s the thing: Seokjin isn’t blind. No, in fact he’s the very opposite; he wears glasses for fun and for the aesthetic and because he knows that people think he looks attractive wearing them. Seokjin has 20/20 vision, and that’s precisely why he can’t really be blamed for thinking that Min Yoongi is some sort of otherworldly enticing mythical beast of a man.
It shouldn’t work, it really shouldn’t. Yoongi’s mix of half-dead exhaustion, sleepy cat energy, and perpetual poutiness, should not be something that makes Seokjin reconsider the entire frame within which he finds people attractive. And yet, Seokjin finds himself at Namjoon’s monthly dinner party taking sneak glances out of the side of his vision towards the lump of Yoongi that’s buried under Namjoon’s fuzziest grey blanket. He’s not one hundred percent sure what’s happening in the apartment at the moment: the last he was paying attention, Taehyung was launching a full-scale monologue about how Monopoly wrecks families and how their family, while tight-knit and full of love, will be completely decimated by the introduction of the game to their evening as Jimin yelled at the top of his lungs that “the only reason you think that, Taehyung is because you stole 800 dollars out of the bank last time and Jungkook threatened to give you a black eye.”
No, really, Seokjin’s only been paying attention to Yoongi for the past ten minutes if he’s being honest.
Yoongi’s a special sort of person– the kind of person who steadfastly refuses to say “I love you” but will drive three hours out of his way simply to pick up Hoseok’s favourite brand of muscle-ache cream or will postpone actual real-life work just to make sure Taehyung’s consumed something other than passion fruit bubble tea for the day. He didn’t sleep for a week when Jungkook got sick with the flu, and once he spent eight hours in the studio with Namjoon going over one single chord progression just because Namjoon needed him. Yoongi goes to every single one of Jimin’s dance performances even when they coincide with other appointments, and he’s brought Seokin to all his favourite restaurants in Seoul under the guise that he “doesn’t want to eat alone, hyung, please you’re doing me a favour.”
Seokjin thinks he’s not sure in particular, as he watches Yoongi unravel himself from the blanket to join Namjoon in rooting heavily against Monopoly due to capitalistic overtones, why he fell in love with him. He does know, however, that he never stood a fucking chance
*
Seokjin met Yoongi by accident and on purpose a year and a half ago. By accident in that their first interaction was a passive conversation in the university cafeteria where Yoongi had said “God I could go for some fried chicken right now” while squinting sleepily at the menu options, to which Seokjin had gone “that’s a great idea, the university should put in a chicken restaurant” to which Yoongi had frowned and gone “do I know you?” which had sent Seokjin into a blushing fit that made his ears dark rose as he’d quickly retreated from the scene going “no, sorry!” On purpose in that, it turned out Yoongi did in fact know him through many stories from his merry band of idiot friends, and they met officially two days later at Jimin’s birthday when Yoongi had smirked in all his devastating cockiness and gone “ah, so you’re chicken man.”
“Chicken man” is still Yoongi’s name for him in his phone, despite Seokjin’s increasingly desperate attempts to get him to change it.
At first they’d gotten along in a tangential sort of way, in that they got along well enough, yet always at some sort of distance from each other. Yoongi was close with Namjoon through music, and when he’d brought his longtime best friend Hoseok into the mix, the three of them had quickly become a powerhouse of rap that made people feel things. Yoongi’s next closest friend in the group was Jimin, who had apparently burrowed his way into Yoongi’s heart through Hoseok and had just never left. Seokjin, by comparison, spent more than half his time with Jungkook by the simple nature of being his best hyung, and all the remaining time seemed to be spent split between Namjoon and his master’s thesis.
Then, one day, when Jungkook had been caught in a three day marathon Overwatch session with Taehyung and Jimin, and when Namjoon and Hoseok had managed to get their heads out of their asses and realize they liked each other in a “go-on-a-date-and-hold-hands-on- top -of-the-table” way, Seokjin had found himself at Yoongi’s apartment with no real goal in mind besides boredom and an allergy to working on his new script for any longer. Yoongi had opened the door, smiled, brought Seokjin inside to where he’d been attempting a new recipe for jjajangmyeon, and had simply invited him into his heart just like that.
“Why do you think we’re such good friends, Yoongichi?” Seokjin had asked once while they’d been watching some English movie neither of them were paying much attention to. Yoongi had looked up, eyes bleary from lack of sleep and excess americano, and had shrugged slowly.
“Because I tolerate your stupid nicknames?” Seokjin scoffed.
“You love my nicknames.”
“Debatable, hyung. Truly debatable.” Seokjin had never gotten an answer to his question, but when Yoongi had fallen asleep on his shoulder a half hour later, he thought maybe it didn’t matter much anyways.
*
“Seokjin-hyung.” Seokjin looks up from where he’s trying to connect the rise of LGBT love stories in the media to an influence in dynamic lighting only to see Jungkook looking at him with a serious expression.
“Seokjin-hyung? Why are you full-naming me? Have I misbehaved? Have I been a bad boy? Are you going to punish me, Jungkook-ah?” Jungkook’s nose wrinkles as Seokjin dissolves into peals of laughter.
“Ew, hyung. I don’t need to know your kinks, no, stop. I’m trying to be serious.”
“Kook-ah, when have you ever been serious in your young life?” Seokjin leans forward and boops Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook screws his entire face up in a grimace and bats Seokjin’s hand away.
“Fine! Forget it!” Seokjin sobers slightly at the genuine annoyance in Jungkook’s voice and pushes half his muffin across the table to Jungkook in apology. The youngest keeps up his irritated expression for another thirty seconds before he caves and takes a bite of the peace offering. He’s finished the muffin and Seokjin’s turned back to his thesis by the time Jungkook speaks again.
“Seokjin-hyung.”
“Yes, Jungkook-ah?”
“How long have you been in love with Yoongi-hyung?” A pause, a sigh that seems to come from deep within Seokjin’s ribs.
“I don’t know, Kook. It feels like forever.”
*
Seokjin had been falling in love with Yoongi for months before he became aware of it. The feelings were stored in the relief between their bodies, in all the tiny creases where their skin touched, in how Yoongi breathed slow smoke breath into Seokjin’s collarbones when he fell asleep during movie nights, in how Seokjin reached across metaphorical mental rivers to slot fingers into the calm shore of Yoongi’s presence. Seokjin’s greatest asset had always been his inability to take things too seriously. Then, he met Yoongi.
It was January: skies grey and crisp, all their hearts heavy with the usual weight of winter semester worries and a distinct lack of the fancy imported coffee Namjoon stored in the back of his pantry. They were all at a party hosted by some guy that Namjoon knew and that Jungkook’s friend was friends with. Taehyung and Jimin had disappeared early on to either make out or make friends, Seokjin wasn’t quite sure. Jungkook was caught up in conversations with his dance team friends, two boys with equally bright smiles who tossed their arms around Jungkook like he was meant to be there. Namjoon and Hoseok were discussing rap theory with Jackson, the host of the party, and were getting heated about various mixing techniques as they did so.
And Yoongi? Yoongi was right next to Seokjin drawing patterns over his shirt with a Sharpie he’d stolen from someone in the bathroom.
Normally Seokjin would have made a big deal about Yoongi messing up his shirt; he would have teased him within an inch of his life and forced Yoongi to fork out enough won to pay for a replacement because “honestly Yoongi-yah, I’m not made of money!” This time, however, felt different– weighed down by the purple-pink lights touching every part of Yoongi’s pale skin and the way his hands, long and delicate with big knuckles and delicate fingernails, seemed to touch Seokjin like he was made of glass.
Seokjin knows, knows, that Yoongi’s always meant something different to him, and he’s been pretending for months that his heart doesn’t race when he sees the mop of fluffy blond hair or when he listens to whatever new music Yoongi’s made that week. He knows what he feels and he knows that he’s spent long enough pretending that it means nothing to feel the way he does.
Yoongi draws tiny purple hearts along the stitching of Seokjin’s sleeve and for the first time, while a song about ruining friendships plays in the background and Kim Taehyung is shaking his ass with zero shame at all, Seokjin allows himself to acknowledge that he has been, and may always be in love with Min Yoongi.
*
Yoongichi 16:01
hyung.
chicken man 16:04
Yoongichi
Yoongichi 16:05
pls don’t call me that
i’m begging
it takes centuries off my life every time
chicken man 16:06
Centuries?? How old are you??
Yoongichi 16:06
i could have been immortal if not for u
how dare u truly hyung
chicken man 16:07
I’ll make it up to you somehow old man
Yoongichi 16:11
funny u say that
i was texting to see if you were free
this friday
like at around 7
chicken man 16:13
I have a meeting with my advisor at like 5pm but it should definitely be done by then
Why? What’s up?
Yoongichi 16:22
i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner
just you and me
we haven’t done that in a while bc kook and the chaos twins are always around to mooch food
which is fine
but i kind of wanted it to maybe just be us
chicken man 16:26
Yoongi.
Yoongichi 16:29
hyung.
chicken man 16:30
Obviously I’d like to get dinner with you
Yoongichi 16:34
oh!
oh
oh well that’s good then
i’ll pick u up at 7 then
dress nicely
or don’t idc
chicken man 16:36
Very wide parameters of expectation there yoongichi
Yoongichi 16:37
i am literally going to block you
*
Sometimes, Seokjin feels like he’s a bit smaller than the skin he inhabits; like someone much bigger and much more full of life was meant to walk around in his shoes. It’s rare that he feels this way around his friends, not the people he’s grown to call family over his actual blood. They might be an odd conglomeration of natural disasters waiting to happen, but most of the time Seokjin revels in the chaos and how warm he feels in the proximity of his friends. Now that Yoongi’s been fully integrated along with Hoseok into their core group, Seokjin feels even more like his missing pieces have all finally slotted together.
Not tonight. Tonight there’s something wrong.
They’d spent the day at the beach despite the winter air around them, everyone high off the excitement of finishing exams. Namjoon had brought thick blankets and firewood, and they’d had a ball with their winter beach day despite the looming threat of frozen fingers and toes. The sun is setting in a Sabo-esque flash of cotton candy pink and virulent crimson, and they’re all out of breath from running circles around the river.
It’s here, sitting by Namjoon’s fire trading hot chocolate and marshmallows, that everything goes wrong.
“Raise your hands if you’ve ever had a crush on Seokjinnie-hyung,” Jimin suddenly crows out. Seokjin freezes with his hot chocolate halfway to his lips. There’s a silence across their group before everyone’s hands but Yoongi’s raise up into the air. Seokjin would normally feel offended, except this time he’s a lot more focused on the mounting dread in his shrunken stomach at the realization that all of his closest friends have raised their hands.
“What? Is this a prank?” Seokjin blinks rapidly, trying to process, “What’s your point here, Jimin-ah?”
“Taehyungie and I were talking and we both realized we had massive crushes on you when we met you,” Jimin answers easily. Hoseok nods quickly.
“Yeah, hyung, have you seen yourself? You could stop traffic with your looks.” Hoseok adds excitedly, “When you said hi to me the first time I swear I had a life altering gay crisis. I didn’t know a man could be that hot.” Even Namjoon is starting to nod now.
“It’s true, hyung. I was kind of shocked at how quickly we became friends. You were always so intimidating– a true silver prince!” Namjoon’s smiling; his dimples on prominent display.
“Why do you think we keep you around, hyung?” Jungkook leans forward, teasing, “You boost the attractiveness of our group by at least 65 percent.”
Normally Seokjin would laugh, fill the conversation with obnoxious jokes about his handsomeness, and ask Jungkook how he feels about his oldest hyung being the most attractive one. Today, their words, their blatant admittance that at some point they’ve all had feelings for him and have all seen him as nothing more than a person to seduce, cuts across Seokjin’s skin and leaves marks in the shape of talons.
Today, he walks away.
He doesn’t know exactly what excuse tumbles out of his mouth, but it must be a passable one seeing as no one runs after him to take the words they’ve spilled back into their mouths and ease the ache they’ve left. He thinks maybe he said something about getting more snacks, more something. It doesn’t matter. They leave him be.
Except of course, it’s Yoongi who finds him angrily tearing seaweed snacks in half while sitting in the back of Taehyung’s hatchback.
“Hyung?”
“Leave me alone, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin sighs, fiddling with a piece of seaweed, “I’ll be back in a minute.” Yoongi does not in fact leave him alone; instead he pulls himself up right next to Seokjin and places a hand steadily over Seokjin’s shaking fingers.
“You’re upset.” Yoongi’s tone leaves no room for argument. Brat, thinks Seokjin, always able to read me so easily.
“What gave it away?”
“Well. The fact that you don’t even like seaweed snacks was definitely a hint.” Seokjin scoffs, but his throat is too tight for him to put any proper humour in his mock-offense. Yoongi keeps holding his hand softly, like Seokjin’s about to break to pieces in his palms, “What’s wrong hyung?”
“I’m more than just a pretty face,” Seokjin shocks himself with how hard he sounds in the blistered pink of the sunset, “I have other traits. I’m smart, and I work hard, and I’m really good at sports, and I take care of my friends, and it’s just-“ he takes a breath, rebuilds steam. Yoongi sits beside him: quiet, stable, open. Seokjin sighs, closes his eyes.
“ I know they didn’t mean anything with their jokes, and God knows I know none of them have actually ever only seen me as a piece of meat, but it hurts, Yoongi-yah, to feel like the only thing I can bring to the table is my face. Sometimes,” Seokjin opens his eyes to look directly into Yoongi’s, “ Sometimes I wish people saw me for more than just my looks.”
“I do, hyung.” Yoongi’s words are firm, yet soft, and Seokjin feels a tiny bit of his heart crumble.
“Well clearly, Yoongichi,” Seokjin tries to joke, “You didn’t have a crush on me at first.” Yoongi glares at him and Seokjin presses his lips together apologetically.
“Even if that were true and I wasn’t just not raising my hand to save you some embarrassment,” Seokjin chokes a bit but Yoongi continues on, “I wouldn’t like you for your looks primarily anyways. I’d like you because I think you’re one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met in my life, and I’d like you for your passion and work ethic, and for how even though you’re an amazing chef, you always manage to burn toast.”
“Toast is the devil’s breakfast,” Seokjin parrots, though his smile’s returning and he can feel the unease slipping off his skin at the knowledge that Yoongi, as usual, sees every part of him, “I cannot be blamed for the unpredictability of bread.”
“Sure, hyung,” Yoongi’s chuckling now too, shyly threading his fingers into Seokjin’s to give them a small squeeze, “It’s the toast’s fault.”
*
Whatever gods Seokjin only half believes in must have forsaken him, because there’s no way he’s supposed to spend the evening with Min Yoongi looking the way he does tonight and not make a move on him. He knew in a roundabout sort of way that Yoongi asking him to dress up nicely meant that he would, presumably, also be dressed nicely. Nothing could have prepared him for Yoongi showing up to Seokjin’s tiny apartment at 6:57pm sharp looking like he’d stepped out of a GQ magazine.
They haven’t seen each other in a couple weeks, with Seokjin still scrambling to finish some sort of draft of his thesis and Yoongi neck deep in producing for at least three up and coming idol groups for his internship. Their friendship had maintained itself through their text chains and Yoongi’s constant stream of mp3 files entitled “this is shit but idc.”
And now, Yoongi’s standing in front of him wearing a dark purple silk shirt with his dark hair all long and curly-messy, and Seokjin’s pretty sure his heart has stopped in his chest. He knows he’s supposed to joke, supposed to tell Yoongi he’s trying so hard for his old hyung and make fun of him for it, maybe even ask why Yoongi’s so dressed up for what he presumes is going to be a night of fried chicken and beer.
None of that happens. Instead, the words that slip out of Seokjin’s mouth are startlingly honest.
“You look so beautiful, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin should be embarrassed by how reverent his voice sounds, but Yoongi’s looking at him in much the same way so maybe it doesn’t matter, and maybe they’ve been building to this for a long time, and maybe Seokjin’s been wilfully ignorant of the way Yoongi’s feelings mirror his at times.
“Bold words coming from you,” Yoongi says back, but his voice sounds strangled like it’s maybe gotten stuck on the way out. Seokjin knows he looks good, knows he picked this outfit particularly to show off his shoulders, knows he did it to get a rise out of Yoongi, but it still rocks him off balance as he nearly trips forward to trace a finger across the collar of Yoongi’s shirt.
“So dressed up,” he mutters. Yoongi gulps.
“Yeah, well. I dress up well for my dates,” he mutters and they’ve called their hangouts dates before as jokes but this time it feels real and Seokjin has to steel himself from the wave of dizziness that sweeps over him.
“Funny,” it’s so not funny, “I didn’t realize this was a date Yoongichi.”
“It can be,” Yoongi’s near-gasping with how close they’re standing and Seokjin knows they should talk about this in another context, perhaps not when they’re so close to devouring each other, but it’s been building– this thing between them– for so long that he just doesn’t care anymore. Yoongi tilts his head up to meet Seokjin’s, “I want it to be, hyung.”
“I don’t kiss on first dates,” Seokjin says, whisper soft. Yoongi groans.
“Call the last year and a half dates one though ten million,” he begs and Seokjin laughs, so lightheaded, so happy.
“I hope you didn’t make any reservations, because I feel like we might miss them,” Seokjin tips his head forward so the plush of his lips just barely brushes against Yoongi’s mouth, “In fact I’m nearly 106% positive we’ll miss them.” Yoongi slides his hands over Seokjin’s shoulders and pulls him in the rest of the way, whispering quickly before closing their lips together.
“Fuck the reservations.”
*
Here is a list of things that Kim Seokjin knows resolutely about Min Yoongi:
- His sleep schedule is atrocious; it ping pongs between too much and not enough at any given point, and the purple shadows underneath his eyes are occasionally past the point of help from Seokjin’s strongest concealer as a result.
- He’s more than passable in the kitchen, but will pretend not to be simply to get Seokjin to make food for him.
- He’s the most talented person Seokjin’s ever met. Like ever.
- He looks nearly illegally good in jewel tones, but threw a fit when Seokjin tried to throw out his single ratty grey sweatshirt under the assertion that it “contained a lot of memories.”
- In a past life he was probably a cat, but in this life he curls up tightly into Seokjin’s arms just like one anyways so maybe nothing much has changed.
- Min Yoongi sometimes kisses like the world’s going to end in the next thirty seconds, but other times kisses like he’s got the rest of his life to map out the taste of Seokjin’s mouth. Seokjin hopes with all his heart that the latter is true.
- Min Yoongi has been in love with Kim Seokjin since the day they met, and maybe even before that due to much interference from one Park Jimin. He tells Seokjin this once in embarrassment while they’re half in the process of taking each other’s shirts off. It does not detract from the mood whatsoever.
- Min Yoongi bruises very easily.
- He wrote a song for Seokjin three days after meeting him properly and promises that Seokjin will only ever hear it at their wedding. He turns peony pink after accidentally implying their marriage.
- He is the love of Kim Seokjin’s life.
*
Joon-ah 19:37
Look hyung
I’m not saying I’m not a little offended that I’m the last to know about you and Yoongi-hyung
But I’m a little offended
I thought I was your best friend
How could you keep something of this magnitude from me??
I found out from Jimin because he spilled that you guys are going out tonight
Joon-ah 19:43
Are you seriously leaving me on delivered???
Joon-ah 19:49
You’re hooking up aren’t you.
Joon-ah 19:53
Proud of u hyung ❤️