Chapter Text
Mysterious celebrity couple caught outside Gangnam club??
The photo was of a dark couple, almost silhouetted, but not quite. A woman with long dark hair was pressing someone taller up against the side of the building, but it was near impossible to tell who either person was, especially with the grainy quality of the photo.
Unless you were pretty sure you were dating one of the people in the picture. And the other person in the photo was definitely not you.
“Min Yoongi, what is this? Are you cheating on me?”
You’d just finished breakfast and were scrolling through the news, sitting at the kitchen table. You’d stayed the night at the boys dorm on one of their few nights off, hanging out and playing games and watching movies, and at the end of the night cuddling with your sweet drowsy boyfriend in his bed.
You didn’t usually look through celebrity gossip—dating a celebrity yourself, you knew how detrimental it could be—but this article was the first thing that popped up on Naver that morning. You hadn’t really thought twice about it, but something about the shape of the figure made you pause. As you looked closer at the photo, you could see a hand of the person pressed up against the building, caught in the light of a nearby streetlamp. On the man’s wrist was a bracelet that looked eerily familiar.
Yoongi came out of his room when he heard your voice, his arm stuffed into one sleeve of his jacket. He and the boys were going to a schedule that morning, and you were going to walk downstairs with them before you left to catch the bus back over to your apartment.
“What the hell is what?” You held up your phone and he took it from your hands. While he read the article you could swear some of the color left his face. He finally handed the phone back to you and turned away with a weak laugh.
“Are you reading tabloids now, babe? You know how those things are.”
“You don’t think this person looks even slightly familiar?” You thrust the picture back towards him again, your voice playfully taunting.
“Babe, he’s basically a shadow. And who cares?”
You looked at the picture again. You knew it was unlikely, but… there was something about the way the man stood that was as familiar to you as your own body. The way he leaned up against the wall, you swear you’d seen it a million times before. You’d brought the picture up with Yoongi to laugh at the similarities, but something about his reactions were making you uneasy.
“He has the same bracelet as you.” You swear Yoongi flinched, but it could have been your imagination. “The one I got you for your birthday.”
“A silver bangle isn’t that uncommon. Besides, I haven’t been out in forever.” Yoongi scoffed. “Not easy with a life like mine, you know.” The other boys began to trickle out of their rooms, lugging their rehearsal gear—Yoongi had mentioned that they would have a long night of practicing ahead of them after their schedule. A few had been chatting lightly, but quickly quieted when they got wind of your conversation.
You gave him a skeptical look. “You’ve snuck out before, with Namjoon and Hobi—”
“Okay, well, that’s not the same thing.” He waved the comment off, “Plus, why would I go out to hang out with someone who wasn’t you?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Yoongi put down his bag and put his hands on his hips. “What exactly are you trying to imply?”
Were you? You and Yoongi had been together a little over two years now, and your relationship was in a really good place. On a normal day you’d like to say any insecurity or fear you’d had of him cheating on you was long gone. Most of the time you were pretty good at keeping those thoughts at bay—you knew Yoongi loved you, even if he didn’t say the sentiment often. But sometimes, when you were tired or cranky or feeling lonely, you just… wondered. Wondered if one day there would be another girl who was prettier, or smarter, or understood his music better. Understood his idol life better than you, a non-idol, could.
“I don’t know.” You tried to be honest with him. “Nothing, I guess, but… Yoongi, this guy could be your doppelganger.”
He scoffed. “You can barely see the guy in that picture. Your eyes are playing tricks on you.”
“You think I don’t know what my boyfriend’s silhouette looks like?”
“I think you know how bad your eyesight is.”
“This isn’t about me!” You huffed. “Did you and Joonie and Hobi go out to this club in Gangnam? ‘Impulse?’” You looked accusingly at Namjoon and Hoseok, who were standing by the couch trying to look busy on their phones. “Well?”
“Ahhh, I don’t know” Hobi drawled tentatively. “I don’t really remember.”
“We haven’t been out in a while though, not since before our last promotions.” Namjoon shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”
You glanced back at the photo pointedly. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Yah.” Yoongi’s voice held clear irritation. “I already told you it’s not me. Isn’t that enough for you?”
That made you stop. Honestly, wasn’t it? The look in Yoongi’s eyes was challenging, but was also pleading. What kind of girlfriend were you being? After two years of nothing but devotion, even in the hardest of moments, you were so quick to start a fight over something you read on Naver? Yoongi had never been anything but good to you. Sure, you two fought and had issues just like anyone else, but this was a new brand of shallow for you. And at the end of the day, didn’t you trust him?
You chewed on your lip before taking a deep breath. “Okay.”
The boys looked at you in surprise. You crossed your arms and frowned at them. “What?”
Taehyung gestured at you. “You’re just… okay?”
You shrugged, a little uncomfortable still. “Look I don’t… whatever. I trust Yoongi. If he says it’s not him, then I believe him.”
The relief that flooded the room was palpable. Yoongi smirked and crossed the room to place his hands on your shoulders. “Yah, this is why my girlfriend is the best,” He bragged to the other members, who immediately burst into agreement.
“Wahh, I want a girlfriend who is so trusting!”
“Noona is so cool and mature—is this what dating an older girl is really like?”
“Jeongguk, no older girl wants anything to do with you.”
“Lies!”
The mood began to lighten and you laughed a little at Jin and Jeongguk beginning to go at it. You put your hand on Yoongi’s, still resting on your shoulder, and looked up at him. He smiled at you, and your stomach did a little flip.
Jimin’s cheery voice cut through the laughing and bickering around you. “Besides, Noona, it’s not even a recent photo—that was months ago!”
The room went silent. You turned to Jimin, who had one hand covering his mouth and whose eyes had blown wide. Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder had tightened almost to the point of it being painful.
Namjoon’s “Jimin—”
“Shit shit shit—”
To their surprise, you laughed—but it wasn’t your normal, dorky, cheerful laugh. This was harsh and forced.
“I fucking knew it. I fucking knew it.”
You stood up, wrenching yourself away from where your boyfriend was and turning to face him. Yoongi tried to pull you towards him. “Baby—”
“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me, Min Yoongi,” You ripped your hand out of his grip, looking around at the faces of all your closest friends. The friends who had, together, lied to you. “ ‘I don’t really remember? ‘We haven’t been out in a while?”
Hoseok shifted uncomfortably, staring at the floor, and Namjoon just looked at you like you were a wild animal that could run at him any second. Normally this would worry you, but in that moment, you didn’t even care.
“I can’t—I can’t believe you—all of you—why would you—”
You could feel the anger in your belly begin to morph into hurt, and the tightness in your throat as your eyes began to prickle with tears. Yoongi and the boys had often teased you about how often you cried, but that was the last thing you wanted, this time.
You took a deep breath. “You know what? I’m going home. Don’t text me, or call me, any of you.” You picked up your backpack and started towards the door.
“Babe, please—” Yoongi pleaded with you one more time.
Just as you reached for the handle, you stopped and turned around. “You know what? I hate this. I hate feeling like this. You guys are my best friends.” You paused, voice wobbly, but none of the members spoke. “I guess I can’t trust anyone anymore, can I?”
You walked out the door just as the first tears began to fall.
--
Three days passed with total radio silence from you. The boys had respected your wishes for the first twenty-four hours before you were getting spammed over every messaging app with apologies. You put them all on block before eventually just turning your phone off entirely. Having down time with the device would inevitably just lead to you looking at old conversations or pictures, and that wasn’t what you needed right now.
You didn’t hear anything from Yoongi, though, until the end of the third day.
You were just crawling into bed after a nice long bath with some of the LUSH products that Yoongi had gotten you for Valentine’s day a few months ago. It was hard, sitting in your apartment and looking around at all the little ways he had worked his way into your life over the last two years—his belongings and clothes lying around, gifts he’d given you for Chuseok and Christmas and birthdays and anniversaries—the list went on.
You’d turned on your phone to play some relaxing music while you lounged in bed when you heard the unmistakable chirp of your kakao.
My Min <3:
I know you’re probably still mad at me. But the least I can do is give you an explanation. Can we meet?
It seemed silly, but you’d forgotten to block Yoongi because he hadn’t messaged you at all. You weren’t sure if he would. A part of you was a little scared he’d just ghost out of your life, never to be heard from again. After staring at your phone for a few minutes, you finally responded.
It’s almost midnight.
My Min <3:
I’ll make it fast.
A part of you wanted to hold out a little longer, the hurt from what had transpired a few days ago still feeling very fresh. But the larger side of you—the one that had spent two years learning the ins and outs of another person, who had taken the time to find the love in this brash boy from Daegu— just missed your best friend.
Two years was a long time to lose over a photo on Naver.
Just come over.
Normally you would have insisted the meeting take place in neutral territory, like a coffee shop or a park or something, but because of the nature of Yoongi’s job, your could only go to his place, your place or the studio. And hell if you were gonna have this conversation at the risk of the other members walking in.
So you threw on a sweatshirt over your sleep shirt and turned the lights in your kitchen and living room back on. You put the kettle on too—not unlike many late nights in your apartment.
You opened the door when you heard the knock, and you were proud of yourself for not getting teary-eyed at the sight of him standing in your doorway. He looked good, for almost midnight: black jeans and a flannel with a black baseball cap and a black facemask. (You silently cursed every god you could think of, like they knew you’d always been weak for Yoongi in plaid) Even from the several feet between you, you could tell he was wearing makeup, like he’d come straight from a schedule.
He didn’t move inside immediately, like he normally would. He pulled his mask down and licked his lips nervously, staring at you so intently you had to look away.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” You responded softly, every nerve on edge. “You can come in, you know.”
“I know.” He said, and even though he was still looking at you in that way, he leaned down to untie his converse sneakers, which were—unsurprisingly—entirely black.
The kettle rang in the distance, and you left him alone to tend to it. He followed you into the kitchen area of your small apartment and sat down at the table you had there, the same way he did any time he came over and you were making something. Only this time there was no good natured teasing, no jokingly threatening him with your cutting knives and definitely no stolen kisses while waiting for the rice to finish cooking.
Instead, Yoongi sat down and pulled his arms in close to himself, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing from him—usually Yoongi was trying to make himself bigger, like he was trying to prove something to some inattentive god. He didn’t do… small, like this.
You silently prepared two cups of green tea, and placed one in front of him, like you’d done a thousand times. Now getting a good look at him in the light, you could see where the makeup was covering breakouts, where his eyes were bloodshot and his hair a little greasy beneath the cap. He stopped staring at the table long enough to glance up at you, and seemed unsurprised to find you already looking at him.
“Decaf?”
“You kind of look like shit.”
“I—haven’t been sleeping great. For obvious reasons.” He said quietly.
He brought the cup to his lips and took a long swig of the hot liquid. The picture of the two of you was as normal as any other night of the past two years—sitting together at your kitchen table talking over tea, or curled up on your couch reading or watching something together, or camped out in Yoongi’s studio until the latest release was done. From an outsider’s perspective, you wouldn’t think anything was amiss.
You missed when things felt that simple. Life had suddenly become more complicated.
Yoongi took a few sips of tea before sighing and looking up at you.
“I know apologizing isn’t enough right now,” He started throat already a little raw from his schedule, “And I can’t go back in time and changed things that happened in the past. If I could, I would. You know I would.” His eyes were pleading in a way you rarely saw from him. “But before you decide that this—that we—are really over,” He let out a little breath, like the idea took the very wind from him. “Just let me tell you what that happened that night. At least, from what I remember of it.”
You frowned, nursing your tea in your hands close to your chest. “I don’t know that that’s a great way to start.”
Yoongi grimaced. “Yeah, I know, but it’s the ugly truth. I don’t really remember a lot of that night. Jimin, that idiot—”
You crossed your arms. “As far as I’m concerned, the only real idiot in this situation is the one who’s been lying to his girlfriend for months.”
He frowned, casting his eyes downward again. “… Right. Anyway, Jimin was right—it happened in March, right before we finished the new album.”
“I was stressed out at the studio one night, and Namjoon was there with me. I was—I was just so frustrated, because it felt like nothing was coming together the way I wanted it to. We were just going to go out and have a couple drinks, to take the edge off.”
This itself wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. While you liked to think of yourself as a comforting presence when your boyfriend was going through rough times, you knew that sometimes he just needed to be out with the boys. It wasn’t something that had ever concerned you, and you trusted the rest of BTS with both your life and Yoongi’s. Maybe a little naively. “Where was I while all this was happening?”
“I think this was the weekend you went to Busan with your friends.” He rubbed at his eyes. “You weren’t home, I remember that for sure.”
“So we head out to Gangnam, and we’re at a couple bars, but then Hoseok wanted to meet up and go dancing and we were already kind of drunk, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Fateful last words.” You said and Yoongi just chuckled darkly.
“No kidding.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “So we go the Impulse, where Hoseok knows who’s DJ-ing that night, or whatever, and suddenly there is this group of girls there that are talking to us and I’ve had a couple more drinks so I’m pretty drunk. Namjoon and Hoseok are doing most of the talking, from what I remember, but there’s this one girl who keeps calling me out specifically to ask me things. That’s pretty much where my memory ends.”
“So that’s it?”
He takes another sip of tea and scratches his head. “No, I know some of what Namjoon and Hobi told me. They say we all got up to dance – ” You snorted loudly and he grimaced. “Okay, Namjoon and Hobi got up to dance and I just followed them, then I just… wasn’t there, for a little while. Eventually they noticed and Nam found me out back, with that girl all up in my space.” He scratched the back of his head. “He dragged me back inside and then we left. The next morning I woke up in my bed. Alone.”
You felt the knot in your stomach loosen a small margin. Though Yoongi not telling you what happened that night was bad enough, it made you feel a tiny bit better that he hadn’t gone home with someone. You didn’t know just how far you’d be able to forgive.
“So that’s the end? What about the boys?”
Yoongi cleared his throat, eyes trained on the table again. “When I woke up and realized what had happened, I… I freaked. I have no idea what happened in that alley, but the idea that I could have done something to break your trust, or hurt you—I panicked. I made them promise me they wouldn’t tell you.”
Even at several feet away, you could practically feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves, but your temper flared. “So you turned all my closest friends against me.” His head snapped up.
“No, NO I would never—Baby—” He practically growled in frustration, both hands coming to lay flat on the surface of the table. “I was going to tell you, I swear, and the idea that it would get to you through one of them before I could explain—”
“You were going to tell me?” You crossed your arms, your irritation starting to get the better of you. “And tell me, Min Yoongi, when that was supposed to happen?”
“There was never a right time.” He mumbled. “The album dropped, and then we were in the middle of a comeback and then we left for tour and then it was our anniversary…” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard you momentarily worried for his eyesight. “And then months had gone by and nothing had come out in the press and we were good, we were so good, and it didn’t feel like it mattered anymore whether or not I couldn’t remember if a girl I don’t give a shit about tried to kiss me in an alley behind a stupid club.”
The thing was, he was right. Your relationship was usually something you were grateful for, but the last few months had been particularly special. You’d been allowed to accompany the boys on part of their tour, and had spent yours and Yoongi’s anniversary on a boat sailing around Sydney Bay, eating and drinking and laughing until you could barely move. He’d been there when you were having a hard time at your job, cursing your terrible boss to the high heavens and holding you when you’d been passed over for a promotion.
You’d always figured that after two years with someone, it was normal that the passion would fade—not entirely, but into a kind of placid contentment. It had happened to you in relationships before, and you’d seen the fire slowly fade in friends and family. But with Yoongi, that hadn’t happened; even though you knew each other intimately, there were still surprises. You’d traveled each other’s dark corners, but it was almost as if you’d just laid down roots for unknown things to grow there, things you planted together. It was more than getting an apartment or a pet together; sometimes you thought he was more of you than you were.
“I don’t believe in soulmates.” He’d said once, the two of you lying together in your bed, hands clasped over his chest. You were beginning to doze, but you knew he was talkative sometimes after making love, so you tried to keep yourself awake enough to listen.
“I know.”
“I don’t believe in soulmates.” He repeated, as if he hadn’t heard you speak. “I always thought it was silly, the idea that two people could be made for each other. Where’s the point of being an individual then, if you’re only half of something whole? It’s stupid.” He scoffed softly. You knew better than to be offended—if you hadn’t been able to handle this side of Min Yoongi, you’d have been headed for the hills a long time ago.
You yawned. “You’re right, babe.” Your eyes were beginning to droop, and you valiantly tried to keep them open. You knew the moment they shut you were a goner.
“Right. So I don’t believe in soulmates.” He paused, one hand drifting to smooth your hair. “But I believe in you. And I believe in me, and I believe in us, together.”
Staring at this poor creature in front of you—this hunched, miserable figure was not the Min Yoongi you loved, and yet it was. Because this was the boy who loved you so much that he was wrecked by the mere idea that he had been unfaithful. That he had hurt you.
I believe in us, together.
Not something silly with a girl in the back alley of a club.
Us.
“It doesn’t really matter to me whether she kissed you or not.” You admitted, setting your cup down on the table. “I wish you had told me right after it happened, so we could have just talked it out then, but I get that you were scared. I just…” You chewed on your lower lip, a habit he’d chastised you for over and over again, before extending a hand out over the table. He immediately extended both of his own and latched onto it, his fingers kneading small, comforting circles into your palm.
“No one wants to be that girl who gets left in the dark, you know? The one who’s the last to know. And you put me in that position with this, and it hurts. And you brought all our friends into it.” The misery on his face was clear, and you could see the tell tale signs that he was near tears.
“I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for doing this to you.”
Finally hearing him truly apologize lifted some of the shadows from your gaze, and you let out a sigh to steady yourself. The two of you just sat like that for a minute, holding hands across the table with your eyes fixed on them.
But there was one more thing you needed to know. “I know you don’t do what you don’t want to do. So when I found out about what happened, I kept asking myself: ‘if he wanted to be with other people, why did he stay with me? Why are we still together?’” Yoongi’s hands momentarily squeezed yours so hard that you saw his knuckles go a little white.
“But then I thought about the first Chuseok after we started dating.” You smiled a little at the memory—your first trip to Daegu had been entertaining, to say the least. “And I thought about falling asleep in the car listening to Drake, and I thought about when I got my wisdom teeth pulled and you did girl group dances to make me laugh and spoon fed me soup and applesauce. And I thought about a hundred other moments that are so much more important to me than the picture I saw on Naver.”
“I don’t think you’d stay with me if you didn’t want to be with me.” His face was unreadable. You took a deep breath. “Do you still want to be with me, Yoongi?”
“Yes,” he breathed quietly, but without hesitation, “More than anything.”
You felt a traitorous prickle at the back of your eyes.
“Then I forgive you.”
He’d been so tense this whole time, you’d expected him to collapse when it was all over. But in true Yoongi fashion, he didn’t do anything you expected. He just stared at you for a minute, still clenching your hands together. You grew a little worried, watching him.
“Yoo—” Suddenly his hands moved to your face, cradling it like it was something precious that could shatter at any moment. Then, with painstaking slowness, he leaned across the table and kissed you softly once, then again. You felt dampness against your cheeks and knew the proverbial barrier had broken.
Even though the kisses were eons tamer than things you’d done before, you still found yourself breathless when you finally broke apart. “Don’t make me regret this, Min Yoongi.”
He smiled a little, still holding your face. You brought the sleeves of your sweatshirt up to wipe away some of his tear tracks. “I won’t—I promise I won’t.”
You smiled back at him, standing up. “Then let’s go to bed.”
You dropped your mugs by the kitchen sink and Yoongi followed you into the bathroom, where you sat on the counter and helped him remove his leftover schedule makeup with makeup wipes. You let yourself take extra time tracing the lines of his face, lingering on the soft skin under his eyes and around his mouth. Yoongi’s eyes never left you, and you felt yourself blushing. You pulled his toothbrush out from the drawer you’d thrown it in and together you brushed your teeth in silence, just basking in each other’s presence. The two of you crawled into your bed and curled up together, Yoongi barely bothering to remove his jeans before wrapping himself around you.
“You smell amazing.” He sighed, nuzzling into your hair. “It’s been driving me crazy since the moment I walked in.”
“It was a bath bomb. On of the ones you got me for valentine’s day.” You said quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Valentine’s day had been a good day.
He hummed quietly. He hadn’t said much since the end of your earlier conversation, but you knew that a quiet Yoongi didn’t necessarily mean an unhappy Yoongi. Sometimes he just needed more time to process things.
A few moments later, you felt yourself beginning to drift off when he finally spoke.
“I love you. So fucking much. I don’t say it a lot because I don’t understand it; how you can make me feel like I’m both completely content and bursting at the seams, but mostly I don’t say it because I don’t know how you can possibly love me back. How you can put up with all the shit I’ve put you through just by being an idol—fuck, just by being me—and still want to stand by me and make this work.” You could feel him swallow. “But I thank every fucking god every day that you do.”
You turned over in his arms so you were facing him. He let his hands come together around your lower back and the two of you gazed in each other’s eyes for the umpteenth time that night.
Finally you spoke. “I don’t believe in soulmates. Never have, never will.” You let yourself smile a little as the recognition lit up in his eyes. “But I believe in you. And I believe in me, and I believe in us, together.” You pulled your boyfriend— not your soulmate, but your Yoongi—in close and touched your foreheads together.
“Together.”