Chapter Text
The arcade was bright and noisy, shouts and blaring dance music overlaid with the sound of rapid gunfire and an assortment of other sounds which were making Yoongi’s head hurt.
He didn’t want to be here.
It had been a long week-- work, exams and a several all night cramming sessions on top of the few small freelance producing jobs he’d been doing for extra cash on the side and D-Boy Beats, his twice-weekly late night show on the university's radio station.
By the time he’d made it to his evening shift at the coffee shop--his second of the day, after five hours at the animal shelter, together amounting to eleven hours in total-- he felt a little like a walking zombie.
After the first hour, Seokjin, who, as floor manager, was in charge while their manager was away, had relegated him to drinks duty for the remainder of his shift.
When Yoongi had asked why, Seokjin had just pointed at his face. “That,” he said, accusingly. “That is not a customer service face, Yoongi-yah. Remember our talk?”
Yoongi pouted. “It is too,” he protested, aware he probably sounded like a petulant child.
“You look like you’re about to stab someone.”
“That’s just my resting face!”
“Well, your resting face,” Jin retorted, air quotes glaringly obvious, “is scaring the customers.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. He didn’t feel like talking to people, anyway. All he wanted to do at this point was go home, take a long, hot shower, crawl into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.
Which was exactly what he told Namjoon when he’d arrived at the cafe to meet Jin after closing.
Namjoon had made a sad face, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. “C’mon hyung,” he pleaded, “you haven’t been out in ages.”
“That’s because I’m busy...” Yoongi hedged. After all, it was true.
“Psh, we’re all busy,” Jin scoffed, “anyway, it’s Friday night. What are you doing now that’s so important? And don’t say sleeping,” he added, as Yoongi opened his mouth to reply. “Besides,” he continued, expression softening a little, “you work too hard, Yoongi-yah. You deserve to have fun sometimes too, you know.”
Namjoon nodded, enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes, looking between the two of them. “You’re ganging up on me,” he said, “did you guys--did you plan this? Is this... an intervention?”
Namjoon became suddenly fascinated by the ceiling.
Jin shrugged. “Just your friends looking out for you.”
“Feels like an intervention,” Yoongi muttered. “Anyway, I don’t want to go the arcade. It’s loud and full of screaming kids.”
“We’re only going there for a little bit,” Namjoon promised, “just ‘cause Hoseok hasn’t been yet. We’ll be like half an hour, tops. Then we’re going to the bar across the street.”
Yoongi hesitated. A drink did sound good (though, to be honest, he had perfectly good alcohol at his apartment). But, well-- his friends were obviously concerned about him--totally unfounded, of course--and he didn’t want to worry them any more.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll come.”
And that was how he’d ended up here. He’d played with the others for a little while--beating them all at the hoops by a mile, which was admittedly satisfying.
But it hadn’t taken long before he’d gotten bored--and for the espresso he’d knocked back before they’d left the coffee shop to wear off-- and for the last twenty minutes or so he’d been sitting by himself in the corner, messing about on his phone, glancing up in annoyance every so often at the group closest to him, crowded around one of the shooter games. They were loud, breaking out into yells and whoops what felt like every thirty seconds.
He looked up again with a glare as one kid let out a particularly obnoxious screech.
“Ha! Take that, Jungkookie! You can kiss your high score goodbye!”
‘Jungkookie’ let out a snort. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Tae,” he told his friend, sounding confident.
At that moment, he glanced over at Yoongi, who was still staring at them in irritation. Their eyes met. The kid’s stare was weirdly intense, and after a moment Yoongi looked away, wanting to avoid any kind of direct confrontation (he’d rather just glare passive aggressively from a safe distance, so sue him).
It was maybe ten minutes or so later when Namjoon, Hoseok and Jin finally headed back over.
“That was a long half hour,” he commented, dryly.
Namjoon looked mildly sheepish.
Hoseok was unfazed. “Not our fault if you want to sit in the corner like a boring old man.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Yoongi scoffed, “much better to be screaming at video games like an overexcited five year old.”
Hoseok just grinned. “I’m in touch with my inner child, hyung. You should try it some time. You’re twenty-three, not eighty.”
Jin held up a hand. “Alright,” he said, “enough, kids. I need a drink, post haste.”
Hoseok scrunched up his nose. “Post what now? You’ve been spending too much time with Joonie, hyung.”
“Hey!” Namjoon protested. “Nothing wrong with having a good vocabulary.”
“Ugh, seriously, enough.” Jin grabbed both of them by their sleeves and began forcibly dragging them out. “Come on, Yoongi-yah,” he called, “do you want a drink or not? You’ve certainly been bitching about it long enough.”
Yoongi followed, noticing, as they headed out, the kid from from earlier crouched down by the vending machine next to the door. He was pressing the button repeatedly.
As they approached, he made a frustrated noise, stood up and grabbed the machine, letting out a low grunt as he attempted to shake it. (And if Yoongi noticed the way his biceps flexed impressively as he did so--well. He was just... observant.)
The machine wobbled alarmingly, and for a moment Yoongi was worried it was actually going to tip over and crush the kid. But then a moment later the little plastic ball shot out, breaking open as it clattered to the floor, brightly colored candies spilling everywhere.
The kid reached down, picking one of the candies off the floor. He’d just popped it into his mouth when he noticed them.
“Five second rule,” he said, with a shrug, as they passed. His gaze seemed to be fixed on Yoongi, for some reason. Yoongi couldn’t help but notice he was, maybe, kind of even more attractive up close--sharp jawline and broad shoulders almost at odds with his boyish features and wide, brown eyes.
Once they’d gotten outside, there were a few moments of silence (which, in retrospect, Yoongi really should have realized couldn’t mean anything good, since silence was a thing practically unheard of anytime Hoseok and Jin were together).
Yoongi barely registered it, mind still oddly stuck on the kid, and he startled when they suddenly all began talking at once.
“Well, that was interesting...”
“He was totally checking Yoongi hyung out!”
Yoongi frowned. “What? No, he wasn’t.”
“Oh, please,” Hoseok said, “he looked like he wanted to throw you down and have his way with you right then and there.”
“He did not!” Yoongi protested, attempting to dismiss the series of startlingly clear visuals that popped, unheeded, into his head at Hoseok’s words. He felt himself flush.
“Oh, does that sound good to you, hyung?” Hoseok asked, in a deceptively innocent tone.
Yoongi scowled. “No,” he said, not sure who was trying to convince--himself or his friends. “He’s... he’s a kid.”
“He didn’t look that much younger than us,” Namjoon commented.
“I think I’ve seen him around campus,” Jin chipped in. “Maybe he’s a freshman.”
“Yoongi hyung was totally checking him out, too,” Hoseok added.
Yoongi blew out an irritated breath through his nose. “Ugh. I wasn’t.”
“You so were.”
“Was not,” Yoongi insisted. “I repeat, he’s a kid.”
“Pretty buff for a kid,” Jin said, tilting his head to one side as if in contemplation.
“Yeah, he looked like he worked out,” Namjoon agreed. “Wish I had arms like that.”
Yoongi snorted. “Sounds like you guys are into him.”
By this time, they’d reached the bar. Yoongi pushed open the door, expecting the others the follow. When they didn’t, he turned around to see them watching him speculatively.
“What?” He asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
“No, we’re not into him,” Hoseok said, “we just know what you’re into.”
Yoongi sputtered. “What--I’m not... not into--”
“Guys who could bench press you?” Hoseok asked, brow arching, “please. I’ve seen your Instagram likes, hyung. And your exes.”
Jin giggled. Fucking giggled.
“Ugh, would you guys please shut the fuck up already,” Yoongi groused, turning his back on them and pushing open the door the rest of the way. “Or at the very least, let me get a drink before I die of thirst, boredom, irritation, or all three.”
Hoseok rolled his eyes as he followed Yoongi inside. “Such a drama queen.”
“Oh, you can talk. Who called me screaming last week, begging me to come over because there was one tiny little spider in their shower?”
“That spider was huge! It was the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life, hyung! And I’m pretty sure it was poisonous. Anyway, what about when we saw Blair Witch in the cinema in freshman year? You were one who insisted we go, and then you made me sleep in your bed for a week.”
Namjoon laughed. “That film wasn’t even scary!”
“It was,” Yoongi said, huffily. He’d learnt his lesson regarding horror movies since then. “And that spider was miniscule. I could barely even see it. I’ll have a scotch please,” he added, to the bartender, who’d looked up at their approach. “And nothing for these three.”
A chorus of displeased voices erupted behind him.
“Hey!”
“Aw, hyung!”
“We agreed we were all gonna chip in and share pitchers! It’s cheaper.”
“Tough,” Yoongi said, without turning around, “you should’ve thought of that before you all peer pressured me, dragged me out and...” he trailed off.
“What?” Hoseok asked, sounding amused, “called you out on the blatant way you were checking out that guy? Staring longingly at his muscles?”
“For the last time, I was not checking him out! Any part of him!”
“Okay, Yoongi-yah, we believe you,” Jin said, placatingly--though his expression clearly implied he did not believe Yoongi one bit.
Which was stupid. Sure, the kid was kind of good looking (objectively speaking, of course) but Yoongi had also just seen him eat candy off the floor. The dirty, sticky arcade floor. That was gross. He was gross.
And Yoongi was in no way attracted to him. At all.
*
After a few drinks, Yoongi was starting to feel a lot better, and considerably more charitable. Because, yeah, his friends were assholes. But they were assholes who cared about him. Even Hoseok. Especially Hoseok. After all, he had shared Yoongi's bed--his narrow, single dorm bed--for a week, hadn’t even complained about being alternately kicked or aggressively cuddled.
And Namjoon and Jin-- well, they’d always been there for him, too. They’d seen him at his worst, and had never turned away. Which was a lot more than he could say for some people in his life.
Goddamit, he loved his friends. A lot.
He was alone at the table-- Jin and Hoseok had abandoned them a while in favor of the dancefloor downstairs (Yoongi sent up a momentary prayer for anyone who had misfortune to be in the vicinity of Jin’s dancing after this many drinks. He was... enthusiastic, to say the least) and Namjoon had gone to get another round of drinks--Yoongi had relented and paid for one earlier. It had been long enough that he diverted his attention from his phone to see if he could see Namjoon amongst the mass of people crowding the bar.
Finally, Yoongi spotted him--with three familiar looking people.
Oh, shit. It was the freshmen from earlier. Including Mr. Five Second Rule himself--Jungkookie. Or... Jungkook, presumably. (It meant absolutely nothing that Yoongi remembered his name. Nothing.)
Namjoon was in the middle of an animated conversation with the kid and his friend, a short boy with bright blond hair. Suddenly, Namjoon gestured over at Yoongi, and they both turned to look at him.
Caught staring, Yoongi averted his gaze quickly. The next moment, he heard them all burst into laughter, heard someone say loudly, “oh my god, you have to do it!” He frowned at his empty glass, resisting the urge to look up. What the hell had Namjoon just said?
Ugh, he took it all back. He hated his friends.
He didn’t have to wonder long, it turned out, as the next moment the kid--Jungkook--was heading over. He looked a little unsteady on his feet.
As Jungkook reached him, Yoongi opened his mouth--to say what, he didn’t know--then froze when Jungkook reached him and dropped to one knee, clumsily fishing for something in his pocket.
Yoongi just sat there, staring, as Jungkook gave him wide, crooked grin that was not at all cute, thank you, before finally, with a triumphant noise, pulling out a small object.
Yoongi squinted as the low light reflected off the shiny surface--it was a silver, plastic ring, complete with an obnoxiously large fake pink diamond in the centre. It must have come from that stupid vending machine, he thought, absently. Followed by-- what the fuck.
"Yoongi-ssi," he swayed slightly in place, "will you marry me?"
Several thoughts rushed into Yoongi's head all at once.
What the hell. How does he know my name?
Ugh. Namjoon. Of course.
... Yoongi-ssi? The fucking nerve of this kid.
God, his eyes. I could stare into his eyes all day.
(He'd deny ever having that last one)
But in the end, all that came out of his mouth was, "How old are you? Twelve?" He winced when the words came out a little sharper than he’d intended.
Jungkook’s lips formed a small pout (cute. He was so fucking cute, Yoongi’s traitorous brain supplied). “I’m nineteen.”
“Right,” Yoongi said, slowly, “well, very funny. Hilarious. You can go back to your friends and tell them you did it.” He gestured over at the others, who were still by the bar, staring at them with various expressions ranging from shock to amusement.
Jungkook looked taken aback. “What, no--I didn’t, I wasn’t--”
Yoongi held a hand up. “Save it, kid.”
Jungkook closed his mouth. He looked... upset?
“Go on,” Yoongi encouraged, motioning in the direction of the bar. “Go get your free drink or shot or whatever it is you get for doing this.”
“I...” Jungkook said. His shoulders slumped, and Yoongi felt strangely guilty, like he’d done something wrong. But what? He’d been good natured about the prank, or whatever it was, hadn’t he? So why was Jungkook looking like a kicked puppy?
Jungkook stood up, brushing off his knees. “Okay,” he said, voice quieter now. The cocky, confident grin from earlier was gone. “I--uh, sorry for bothering you,” he mumbled.
His expression and tone made Yoongi feel like he should be the one apologizing. He didn’t know exactly what he’d done--unless Jungkook was really insulted by the twelve-year-old comment-- but he was struck by the sudden, inexplicable urge to do anything and everything he could to make Jungkook stop looking like that.
But before he had a chance to say anything else, Jungkook was already turning on his heel and heading back to the bar.
“Hyung,” Namjoon said, when he returned to their table few minutes later, “you didn’t have to be so mean to him.”
Yoongi frowned. “I wasn’t mean to him.”
He looked over to see Jungkook was back at the bar. One of his friends was patting his back, as if in consolation.
“Besides,” he added, looking back at Namjoon, feeling irritated, “you're the ones who told him to do it. What, did you think it would be funny? I told you guys to drop this earlier, not go and tell the fucking guy that I think he's hot." He stopped, suddenly realizing what he'd said. "I-- uh, not that I do. Think that, I mean." He winced. Mm, real convincing there, Yoongi.
Namjoon just gave him a look. Then he shook his head. "No. I didn't. I just said he should go talk to you. I didn’t suggest he did...” he made a face, “... that. I was just talking to his friend, Jimin,” at the mention of the name, a slightly dreamy look crossed his face, which Yoongi was definitely going to have to follow up on later, “and he was asking me about you. He said Jungkook listens to your show all the time, and he's seen you around campus and thinks you’re cute. According to Jimin, he talks about you quite a bit," he added, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi.
It took a moment for Namjoon's words to sink in.
Yoongi swallowed. Oh.
Without his permission, he felt his heart flutter hopefully in his chest.
“--was his friend Tae who dared him,” Namjoon was saying, and Yoongi realized he’d zoned out momentarily. “So maybe-- you should go apologize?” He suggested, before adding, carefully, “And also... maybe give him your number?”
“Joon-ah!”
“What? I'm just saying!"
“How did he even know what I look like, anyway?" Yoongi frowned. "If he was just listening to my show?"
Namjoon gave him a funny look. "Hyung, you do realize your picture's on the station's website, right?"
Yoongi stared at him. "What? No! They never told me about that!"
"Anyway," Namjoon said, "that's really not the point. What I'm trying to say is, maybe you should give him a chance? He obviously likes you."
"He doesn't even know me."
"Well, maybe he'd like the chance to get to know you?"
Yoongi was already shaking his head. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“It doesn’t have to be a relationship.”
Yoongi pursed his mouth. “He’s a baby, Joon. I’m not gonna fuck him around. He doesn’t deserve...” he stopped, biting his lip.
Namjoon raised an eyebrow, regarding Yoongi in an irritatingly perceptive manner. “You seem awfully concerned about his wellbeing for someone who’s barely even spoken to him.”
“I...” Yoongi started, and... nope. He had nothing. “... Shut up,” he finished, lamely.
“And I know you say you’re not looking, but... Yoongs, it has been a while, you know. Since you’ve even like, dated anyone casually. And he seems like a nice kid.”
Yoongi swirled his straw around his drink, making a low, noncomittal noise.
Namjoon shrugged. “Alright,” he said, “well, I’ve said my piece. I’ll let you think about it.”
Yoongi scowled at that. Namjoon knew him too well.
He knew that, as stubborn at Yoongi could be when someone was trying to force him to do something he didn’t want to do, he also had a tendency to overanalyse and second guess himself on almost everything--so leaving him alone with his thoughts was, in fact, a much more effective way to bring him around than arguing with him, or attempting to convince him. Given enough time, Yoongi would probably end up convincing himself.
Well. That wasn’t going to happen this time. Definitely not. Probably not.
Though, maybe...
Yoongi shook himself. No.
“So...” he said, after a moment. “Jimin?”
Namjoon’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah, he seems really cool! He’s a dance major--he’s in one of Hobi’s classes. He was just asking me about some of the tracks I’ve produced--I think Hobi hyung plays them in class sometimes. Anyway, he said he’s looking to work more on his voice, so he gave me his number in case I had any tracks he could sing on.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes internally. Namjoon could be so dense sometimes.
The subject change had the desired effect, however. Namjoon was thoroughly distracted.
Still--though he tried, Yoongi's mind remained stuck on their earlier conversation. On the defeated expression on Jungkook’s face when Yoongi had told him to go back to his friends.
It wasn’t long after Jin and Hoseok returned from the dance floor, both red faced and sweaty (though Jin considerably more so) that he decided it was well past time for him to head home. His intitial buzz had tipped over into sleepiness, and he could feel the full weight of the past, what, twenty-three hours that he’d been awake settling steadily over him.
The others let him go with only minimal protest--although Namjoon gave him another meaningful look.
He’d almost reached the door, lost in thought, when he collided with another person, hard enough that it sent him reeling backwards slightly.
“Shit, sorry,” said a voice, as strong hands wrapped around his upper arms, holding him steady. And then, “Yoongi-sunbaenim?”
It was Jungkook. Of course it was.
“Jungkook. Uh, hey.” He licked his lips nervously. Jungkook was staring down at him, expression unreadable.
Yoongi realized how close they were standing and went to step back. Jungkook’s hands tightened momentarily before he blinked, seeming to shake himself. “Ah... sorry,” he muttered, stepping back himself. “Listen...” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “I-- look, I'm really sorry about earlier. I had a few too many shots, and my friends dared me--”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi said.
“No, really,” Jungkook insisted, “it was a stupid dare. I probably made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry--”
Yoongi raised a hand. “Stop apologizing, kid. I said it’s fine.”
“I--okay,” Jungkook said. “I really am sorry, though.” He paused, seeming to realize what he’d just said. “Sorry,” he repeated, again.
Yoongi felt his lips quirk up, despite himself. “Are you apologizing for apologizing?”
Jungkook smiled, sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
There was a moment’s silence. Jungkook spoke again, a little hesitantly, “Look, it was a dare, but--it was only because my friends know I kind of, ah. Well, I've been listening to your show for a while, and then I saw you around campus and I--well, I thought you were really cute. I may have... mentioned it to them. Once or twice."
Yoongi wondered how the hell he’d never noticed Jungkook before. He wasn’t exactly forgettable.
“Anyway...” Jungkook continued, earnestly, "if you could just, uh. Forget about that whole mess earlier, I’d really appreciate it.”
Yoongi shrugged. “Consider it forgotten.”
The relief was evident in Jungkook’s expression. "Thank you," he said, giving Yoongi a grateful smile. "So..." he paused, hesitating again. Yoongi watched as he swallowed. "I was, uh. I was wondering if you'd want to-- well, I’d really like it if maybe... maybe I could take you out on a date some time?”
He was looking at Yoongi with big, hopeful eyes and for several long seconds, Yoongi couldn’t tear his gaze away.
He blinked. “I...” he started, momentarily at a loss for words.
“I mean,” Jungkook added, hastily, “only if you want to, obviously! God, sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable again--”
“Give me your phone,” Yoongi interrupted, gruffly.
“What?”
Yoongi held his hand out.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, “oh! Of course!” He fumbled for it, handing it to Yoongi. Yoongi took it, attempting to focus on adding himself as a contact, rather than on the hopelessly endearing smile which had just lit up Jungkook’s entire face.
He handed the phone back and was rewarded with another smile, one which caused his heart to do something strange in his chest. Without stopping to think it through, he held out his hand again. “Alright,” he said, “give it here.”
Jungkook’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What? You just--you gave me your number already? Just now?”
Yoongi shook his head. “Not your phone.”
Jungkook just stared at him for a moment, still looking confused. Then his eyes widened in realization. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the ring, carefully placing it in Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Yoongi suppressed a shiver as the tips of Jungkook’s fingers brushed his palm.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he took a few steps back towards the door. He watched Jungkook’s eyes widen further as he slipped the ring on. He resisted the urge to giggle at the dumbstruck expression on Jungkook’s face.
“Call me,” he said, smirking, delighted when he saw Jungkook’s cheeks darken.
Jungkook looked frozen for a moment. Then his face broke into a grin-- the crooked, slightly cocky one from earlier. Yoongi was pretty sure if his heart could have skipped a beat, it would have.
“I will,” he promised, “I’ll see you soon, Yoongi.”
“See you, Jungkook,” Yoongi called over his shoulder as he turned back towards the door.
He stepped outside into the cool night air, taking a deep breath. He looked down at his hand, the tacky, glittery pink of the diamond glinting in the lamplight. He’d probably feel embarrassed about that little display in the morning, he thought.
But--oh, well. Fuck it. He maybe, potentially had a date, with a guy who was--okay, yeah, really fucking adorable. And hot.
And he was going to go home and sleep for at least twelve hours. In fact-- make that fourteen.
Life was good.