The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft light of a computer screen. The harsh sound of tapping keys permeated the thick silence in sporadic bursts. Occasionally, pale, slender fingers would slam down hard on the backspace key, and the soft sounds of cursing filtered through the darkness in its place.
It had been like this for three days. Yoongi probably hadn’t even really moved at all in that time either, if he thought about it. He’d had the whisper of a melody teasing at his brain for quite some time now, but every time he tried to put it into physical form, the words slipped through his fingers like water through a sieve. Nothing was ever good enough.
It wasn’t that Yoongi was being a perfectionist about this. Yes, over all he was indeed a perfectionist, but this song…it was supposed to mean something. Every time he tried to think back on what had inspired it, he felt even more lost. He vaguely remembered something about caramel hair, bright smiles and an even brighter laugh, but the vision was just as ephemeral as his lyrics were proving to be.
Yoongi almost hissed at the light now cascading into his room. Someone had flung his door wide open and the sudden onslaught made his eyes water.
“The fuck, Joon-ah?” Yoongi actually hissed this time.
“God, no wonder you can’t see shit these days, Hyung.” Namjoon, Yoongi’s flatmate responded flatly. “Sitting in the dark like this is gonna fuck your eyesight quicker than Jungkook goes through clothing.”
“Whatever.” Yoongi scoffed. “The fuck you want, anyway?”
“Jungkook wanted me to drag your ass out of your room and go clubbing with him and Tae.” The look on Namjoon’s face as he said this was a perfect image of mildly horrified distaste.
“I’ll pass.” Yoongi said immediately.
He turned back to his computer screen, fully expecting Namjoon to close the door and wander off, likely to tell Jungkook that Yoongi was out. Instead, Namjoon stayed by the door, a sigh heaving itself from his body like Namjoon had been fighting to keep it in.
“Hyung…” Namjoon began. “As much as I hate to admit it, the little shit is right. You need to get out more. Go get yourself laid or something.”
Yoongi nearly choked at Namjoon’s forwardness. It should have been something he was used to by now, especially given that Yoongi was just as, if not more, blunt than his blonde friend.
“C’mon, Yoongi. You’ve been working on those lyrics for three days solid. Get out and find yourself some inspiration.”
And as much as Yoongi hated to admit it, Namjoon was right.
His lyrics weren’t getting anywhere, and they’d certainly be waiting for him when he got back.
And that was how Min Yoongi, known recluse, found himself seated at a bar stool, drink in his hand and bassline thrumming through his head. He wasn’t even sure what number drink he was up to now. All he knew was, he really still wouldn’t rather be here. He still hadn’t managed to find the right inspiration for his lyrics. It wasn’t like there was nothing to look at, though. The bartender was gorgeous, even though he was more Namjoon’s style than Yoongi’s, and there were quite a number of attractive people filtering through the crowd.
Yoongi downed the rest of his drink and ordered another. Tonight was going to be a long night.
It was the change in the music, perhaps, that made Yoongi look up from his next drink. He didn’t feel drunk, not really, but a pleasant buzzing was beginning to work its way through his veins, and for a change he felt like the knot of tension he always seemed to be carrying with him these days was slowly beginning to loosen.
It was then that something caught his eye – a flash of caramel, a hint of a too wide smile. When Yoongi looked again, he wasn’t sure if his mind was conjuring up fantasies. Instead of waiting there to find out, Yoongi slipped quietly off his barstool, leaving a sullen Taehyung and an awfully distracted Namjoon behind. Well, at least, without Yoongi sitting by the bar, hogging all the pretty bartender’s attention, at least now Namjoon had a chance to actually talk to the guy.
Yoongi manoeuvred through the crowd without much grace. He’d never much been one to be too mindful of what others thought – especially not when he had alcohol in his veins and the whispers of lyrics once again cascading through his brain.
He finally managed to push through the crowd, and it took him a moment to realise that the throngs of people had been circling around something, or rather, someone. If Yoongi had been any other person, he would have gasped in surprise. Instead, he settled for widening his eyes in recognition.
This…this was the person that Yoongi had been looking for.
In an instant, Yoongi could feel the lyrics flowing back into him as he watched the other move. He would admit to never seeing anything quite like it before. If he’d had to sum it up, Yoongi could only have called it art in motion. The other’s command over his own body was stunning and made him a force to be reckoned with.
It didn’t take long for Yoongi to scramble for the notebook and pen that he always kept on him in case he was suddenly hit with inspiration like this. The words that had been ghosting through his mind for the past three days had suddenly started yelling themselves in his mind and it felt like if he didn’t get them down now, his head would explode.
It was no easy feat, writing down lyrics in the half dark, lights occasionally dancing across the page to highlight Yoongi’s messy scrawl. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to read it again come morning, but he’d figure that out when the time came. For now there were only two things that mattered: The man in front of him, moving like the song of angels, and getting the thoughts that those movements inspired down on to the paper in his hands.
He quietly rapped along to the beat as he wrote, testing the lyrics and the feel of them in his mouth. They didn’t feel wrong or ungainly, like his lyrics sometimes did, and Yoongi thought, just for a moment, that he could keep the other man around with him to inspire him forever.
He was certainly attractive – that much was obvious. He was lean, but even through his shirt, Yoongi could make out the hint of corded muscles in his arms and torso, likely from the years of practice it took to get such a command over one’s own movement. The tips of his caramel hair stuck to his face, slicked down by sweat that only made him look more attractive in the sporadic club lighting. His face was a mask of determination as he executed move after move.
Yoongi felt his heart stutter in his chest when the dancer flicked his eyes up, locking gazes with Yoongi for an instant. There was so much raw passion in that look that Yoongi was temporarily floored.
Yoongi found himself surprised that, even though he didn’t know this guy’s name, he wanted the dancer. He wanted to feel him beneath his hands and feel his incredibly soft looking skin against his own. Gender had never really mattered to him before, but the longer Yoongi looked at this man, the more he realised only his slender body would do.
But, this was Min Yoongi, social retard, so when the music ended and the dancer moved away, so did Yoongi. He headed back to the bar to sate his need for the dancer with another round of hard liquor. Yoongi raised his eyebrow when the bartender looked at him with what could only be described as a knowing smile.
“Hyung!” A voice Yoongi didn’t recognise sounded from somewhere to his left. It sounded breathless and exhausted, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary enough to make Yoongi want to turn from the drink he’s been nursing for the last five minutes.
“Ah, hyung, I need a drink so bad!” The Gwangju accent caught Yoongi’s attention. He hadn’t really been expecting to hear the country lilt all the way up here in the neon jungles of Seoul. It was hard to turn his head to look at the person standing beside him, Yoongi decided. Clearly he was drunker than he thought. Or maybe he was just afraid of what he knew who he would see if he did so.
He wasn’t mistaken. Turning his head was a very bad idea – not because the room spun a little bit, but because the dancer he had been eyeing off earlier, his muse from three days prior, was standing right there, close enough that the tight leather pants covering his thigh brushed accidentally against Yoongi’s knee. His clothes were sticking to the outline of his body with sweat and Yoongi prepared his nostrils for the assault of body odour but god damn who gave that man permission to smell so good? It took every ounce of effort Yoongi could spare not to let a low noise of appreciation slip past his lips.
The bartender slipped the dancer his drink with a quiet laugh and a simple “don’t drink too much, Hoseok.”
Hoseok. So that’s the mystery dancer’s name. Yoongi can’t help but think there is no way this man could ever have been called anything else. The name rolls around in Yoongi’s mind as he takes another sip of his drink, trying to pretend that he’s not so distracted by Hoseok standing next to him, but god damn it, he is, because Hoseok is just standing there, wrapping his pretty lips against the straw hanging from his glass, and hell if Yoongi doesn’t want to kiss him.
Hoseok could obviously feel Yoongi staring holes into his back, because he turned his head to look straight back at him, a small smile on his face as he recognised his admirer from the dancefloor.
“Oh, it’s you.” Hoseok says, the smile on his face easily reflected in the tone of his voice.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Yoongi replied dumbly. He pretended he didn’t notice the slight flush on the other’s cheek as he spoke back to him. “The fuck are you doing just standing there?” Yoongi continued, because he wouldn’t admit it but he knows what it is his voice is doing right now and he can’t bring himself to care. Maybe he could make Hoseok want him just as much as Yoongi wanted Hoseok right now.
It probably came out rougher than he meant it to sound but he knows Hoseok doesn’t care when that impossibly bright grin stretches further across his face and a laugh bubbles out of him.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s nowhere to sit.”
Yoongi looked along the bar and wanted to smack his head on the table when he realised Hoseok was right. He knew he’d end up burning in hell for what he did next.
Instead of wrapping his hand back around his glass, Yoongi chose instead to wrap it around Hoseok’s lean waist. With a sharp tug and a quiet yelp of surprise from Hoseok, Yoongi had managed to pull the dancer onto his lap.
The bartender, Seokjin was laughing, covering his mouth with his hand and Yoongi couldn’t help but notice the way Namjoon stared. If he wasn’t so drunk, and didn’t have a lapful of an extremely hot dancer he might have smirked at him. Sadly, though, Namjoon wasn’t the only one acting like an idiot tonight. Taehyung was nowhere to be found, so he supposed they’d really hit the idiot trifecta.
After a couple of surprised blinks, Hoseok was laughing again and damn Yoongi could get used to that sound.
“How forward.” Yoongi knew Hoseok was joking because that blinding smile gave him away. “I don’t even know your name yet!”
This time it was Yoongi’s turn to blink in surprise, earning himself a remark from Hoseok about how cute he was.
“Min Yoongi.” And god how he wished he hadn’t spluttered that out like an embarrassed child getting told off by his teacher for the first time. “Decidedly not cute.” He added as an afterthought.
If Yoongi had’ve known that that remark would make Hoseok somehow spin himself around on Yoongi’s legs so he could face him, well he might not have said it at all, but the feel of Hoseok’s ass on his legs and his gracefully long fingers playing with the blonde hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck had to have been worth it.
“Definitely hot.” Hoseok pulled himself forward to whisper in Yoongi’s ear. “I saw you watching me out there.”
“I was.” Yoongi responded. There was no point trying to cover it. Instead, he chose to place his hands lightly on Hoseok’s hips, running his thumb lightly along the flesh that had been exposed by the riding up of Hoseok’s shirt.
Both of them were breathing heavily now, their eyes half lidded with obvious desire. Yoongi loved this look on Hoseok and it made him want to write at least a thousand new songs, but instead, he settled for pulling the caramel haired male closer, but not too close, or Hoseok might feel the little problem starting to grow in Yoongi’s pants. From this distance he could see the little freckle that rested on the curve of Hoseok’s upper lip and hell if that didn’t make the other more endearing.
It barely took a second for Hoseok to close the gap between them, pressing his impossibly soft lips against Yoongi’s own and making the older let out a breathy gasp. He couldn’t bring himself to care that both Namjoon and the bartender were watching them right now. Namjoon had walked in on much worse on more than one occasion anyway. Instead, Yoongi opted for letting his hands explore further up the muscled sides of the man sitting on top of him.
The kiss was getting more heated as each second wore on. Hoseok had started it by nibbling on Yoongi’s bottom lip, prompting Yoongi to kiss him harder and deeper. Yoongi knew that he’d probably had a bit too much alcohol today, but that felt like nothing compared to the feeling of the little moans Hoseok made when Yoongi kissed him. He could honestly drown in Hoseok’s taste if he let himself fall.
It was a sharp cough to the left that broke them apart in surprise, their breathing quick and heavy, like neither of them can pull in enough oxygen.
“Ugh. God. You guys should just go get a room and fuck already.” Jungkook interrupts.
Hoseok has the decency to actually look embarrassed that he was caught in such a compromising situation but Yoongi chose to flip Jungkook the bird instead, burying his face in the crook of Hoseok’s neck.
“Shut up, you little shit. You shouldn’t even be here.”
Jungkook just laughed as Hoseok managed to spin the stool around, slide himself smoothly off Yoongi’s lap and drag the older man out of the bar toward the door.
Moments later, Park Jimin arrived at the bar, standing next to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on his face.
“That worked better than I expected.”
“I told you.” Where Jimin was all smiles, Jungkook was all smirks. He’d had no doubt in his mind that when Jimin had asked him to bring someone he could set his friend up with that the both of them would be leaving together like this.