Chapter Text
They were just inside Yoongi’s door. Yoongi placed the strawberries on a side table and wrung his hands. Did this mean -
Seokjin continued, ‘I didn’t know what else to bring. What’s the social etiquette for when someone you’ve known half your life tells you they love you, when you’d given up all hope that they might?’
There was a pause. Yoongi digested what he heard, then gasped.
He managed, then, to look Seokjin in the eyes. Twin tears tracked down each cheek under the ballcap.
‘Hyung, I -’ He stumbled into Seokjin’s open arms, and the tears started falling in earnest.
‘When they have a whole sunset on a rooftop to confess in and they choose to do it in an elevator instead and then run away from you into a parking lot? What then, hmm? What do you bring them?’ Seokjin rubbed his back, spoke softly into the top of his head.
‘I’m sorry, I -’ Yoongi was crying into Seokjin’s shirt.
‘When they tell you - during their aforementioned confession - that someone else made them do it, someone else made them confess? Does that person get a box of fruit, too?’
‘I - I -’ Yoongi’s entire body convulsed. He tried to choke another apology out, but -
‘Shhh, Yoongiyah,’ Seokjin crooned, arms gentling around him. His voice was thick with tears. ‘You were so brave, you know? Braver than I’ve ever managed to be. Hyung is grateful, so grateful. To you and to Tae, for whatever he said that made you - ‘
Yoongi pulled away from him, and wiped his face on his sleeve. One of Seokjin’s hands had slid down to hold one of his own. He stared at them clasped together. How wondrous it felt, his hand in Seokjin’s hand.
‘Seokjin.’ He swallowed, tried to collect himself.
‘Yoongi.’ The name came out rough. Jin cleared his throat.
They stood very close to each other. Yoongi held Seokjin’s hand up to his cheek, looked at him, pink cheeks and red-tipped nose, eyes bright with emotion. He breathed deep. Seokjin, here. Seokjin, his . He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome.
‘M gonna say it again. Need to say it again.’
‘Okay. I’m gonna say it back.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you.’ Yoongi sighed, deep.
Seokjin leaned so far forward that Yoongi thought they were about to kiss, but then he paused, and moved back. His expression turned serious. He looked at their hands, intertwined, inhaled, and spoke.
‘We have a lot to talk about, and I know that talking about stuff isn’t the easiest, or the most fun or the most romantic or the most sexy, but I -’
Yoongi couldn’t stand it anymore, and kissed him. Seokjin whimpered into Yoongi’s mouth, and clasped Yoongi around the waist, bringing their bodies fully in contact.
They kissed for a while like that, standing up in Yoongi’s entryway. It wasn’t fireworks, as Yoongi had wondered if it would be. It was infinitely better than fireworks: a low, potent, unwavering flame.
He felt euphoric and dizzy. He wound his arms around Seokjin, and Seokjin’s hands floated up to cradle his face. He kissed Yoongi’s tears off his cheeks. His lips felt just as good as Yoongi imagined, just as plush and just as warm.
‘Tighter, tighter,’ Yoongi muttered. If he could have melted their bodies together, he would have. Seokjin grasped him fiercely, his hands sliding down to Yoongi’s body, one arm around the waist and the other around his shoulders, and kept kissing him. ‘Of course,’ Seokjin murmured, matter of fact. ‘Anything for you. Anything you want.’ Yoongi shuddered; it was true, and he knew it. Hearing Seokjin say it, though, made him feel like he could fly.
They loosened up, though, after a little while, but hands still roamed, and their lips were never far away from each other. Sometimes a tongue licked into his mouth, but more than anything else, they stayed soft with each other, receding slightly every time the tempo grew faster between them.
The world narrowed to the pressure of fingertips, to the small sounds and whispers of delight, to the texture of fabric, of skin. It was the most focused Yoongi had ever felt he’d been outside of his studio in years. Yoongi didn’t know how much time had passed since Seokjin had come to his door. It could have been twenty minutes, it could have been three hours or even three days. None of that mattered, though. Nothing mattered except Seokjin, in his arms at last.
He felt like he was in his body again, for the first time in a long time outside of the dance practices he made himself go to every few weeks so he didn’t lose everything. He traced, in his mind, all of the contours of himself and where they touched all of the contours of Seokjin: here, a palm resting possessively on his back - there, a thigh pressing enticingly against another thigh - over there, eyelashes brushing against his cheek, delicate as a fine chain. It might be better, he considered as he suckled gently on Seokjin’s earlobe, if they weren’t wearing any clothes. He knew he wanted that, preferably sooner rather than later. But his mind was blown enough at just this, at just making out like horny teenagers. Being naked together, whenever it happened, might provoke even more of a meltdown. They both knew how to wait, maybe too well.
At some point, though, Seokjin inhaled and broke the embrace. ‘I need a break, honey.’ The word came off his lips so easy and sweet, like he’d been saying it for years. ‘I don’t want to stop, I don’t ever want to stop, and also I need to sit down, for a minute. Is that okay?’
‘Of course, of course - ‘ Yoongi understood. They nuzzled their way down the hall, into the living room, and over to one of the couches. Yoongi realized, then, that not only was he still very much not sober but that he was also fizzing with pent-up adrenaline and endorphins. He poured himself over Seokjin’s lap as soon as Seokjin sat down, and asked the side of Seokjin’s neck, ‘Would you like some water?’
Seokjin nodded, and kissed Yoongi’s hand. ‘Water would be great, actually. Thanks.’