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It happens on a monday.

 

Seokjin steps into the coffeeshop to buy his daily intake of coffee (or watery, sugary drink masqueraded by society as an adult necessity if you asked Jungkook), when he looks across the counter to meet a pair of dark and equally startled eyes. Suddenly, everything in his whole life makes sense.

 

Like. Literally.

 

“Oh. Fuck.” Seokjin curses out loud after a moment, startling the girl who had been trying to get his attention to ask if he was in the queue. Normally, he’d be better about being a decent human being and would apologize. But he figures today can be one of his off days. So, he nails the barista with the most poisonous look he can muster instead. “Fucking god, it's you.”

 

“Yeah, it's me,” the dark eyes have a hard glint in them now, where they only had a flinty polite customer service expression before. “And I thought it was just good luck that I found this job so easy after the spectacular drama that got me fired unfairly from my last job. It even has dental. Hah. I should have known.”

 

Seokjin normally isn't petty about things like this. Not because he isn't capable of being petty, because, he is very capable of that, as his older brother would more than happily recount the summer of 98’ as proof. So, no. He was just brought up to be a decent human being, so he at least tries, but—

 

“Oh . Now you're blaming me for being able to get good things, too? ‘Boo hoo, I have great shit, but I didn't get it on my own merit so it sucks,’ Wow. Just… wow. You work at a fucking coffee shop and you have better benefits than I do!” Seokjin throws up his arms. “But of course, everything is always my fault, right?”

 

“Will you keep it down?” And Seokjin snorts because of course he'd be asked to keep it down. Because Seokjin is apparently prone to PDD or Public Displays to Drama™ and it's something that Yoongi has always absolutely hated.

 

Yeah. Yoongi. And, yeah. He knows the name of the barista glaring at him from across the counter, even though this is legitimately the first time he's ever seen this man in his life. And, no. It’s not because of the shiny employee badge Yoongi has pinned to his apron with a very misleading smiley face sticker stuck to it either.

 

It's because, Min Yoongi — annoying, anti-social, rude little piece of shit Min Yoongi — is his fucking soulmate.

 

Fucking hell.

 

~*~

 

“So, explain to me again, hyung. Why was broad-shouldered and handsome screaming at you like you'd murdered his child?”

 

Yoongi glances over at his long-time friend, and current co-worker before snorting. “A child? Really, Hoseok? That man is more likely to contract HIV than have a child.”

 

“Right, and how would you know that?”

 

“Because he's gayer than fruit dip in a rainbow?”

 

“Yeah, great. And what I want to know is how you would know that.” Hoseok pauses in the middle of refilling the coffee beans just to stare at Yoongi. Wow. Hoseok hates pausing in the middle of doing things. What an honour. “I've never met him before. And I should have met him before, because I know you hate meeting people, so most of the people I've met are thus also the people you've met because I drag you to meet them.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Yoongi shrugs, “it's because I've not met him before today.”

 

There's a long pause.

 

“...Hoseok, what are you doing— ow! Fuck!”

 

“Hmm?” Hoseok hums as he ignores Yoongi's swatting hands, fingers keeping the other's right eye open as he carefully observes Yoongi's pupils with the handphone light that he’s shining right into the other's eyes. “Oh, I'm just checking if you're hallucinating. Or gone mad. You did have that box of week-old take out in your fridge that you probably ate.”

 

“I did no such thing.”

 

Hoseok pauses, giving Yoongi a look.

 

“Okay, fine. But I swear, I'm in perfect health.”

 

“I wouldn't say perfect. But I suppose you have eaten worse things over the years that your immune system would have registered that take out as healthy.”

 

“It was fried chicken. How would that have been considered healthy?”

 

“Protein.”

 

Yoongi pauses, “right. Anyway, speaking of protein, I think I should go check up on our stock of soy—”

 

“Nice try, Yoongi.” Hoseok has slid in front of the flap door out of the counter area, effectively blocking Yoongi's exit. Yoongi considers ducking between Hoseok's legs and making a break for it. “But we're not done with this conversation. What do you mean you've never met the guy before? You obviously have — you even knew his exact dick measurements. What the fuck?”

 

Yoongi sighs, “it was not my fault that that came to light.”

 

“That… really isn't the point. The point is, you've never met the guy, and you somehow know everything about him. As if you've known him all your life.”

 

“Several lifetimes actually.”

 

“What?”

 

“Errrr… nothing. Can't we just leave it at this? You don't really want to know.”

 

“I actually do. So spit it out.”

 

Yoongi growls, “I— fuck, Hobi. You know I'm bad at lying when cornered like this.”

 

“And that is exactly why I'm doing it. Come on. Spit it out.”

 

Yoongi looks up at the ceiling. “Alright. But on one condition. Promise that you won't send me to a mental hospital. Of all the times I've told someone, eight and a half times out of ten people have sent me to a mental hospital.”

 

“O...kay…?”

 

“Hobi, just promise me.”

 

“Alright, alright. I promise you, I won't send you to the mental hospital. Now will you tell me already?”

 

Yoongi takes in a deep breath. “Seokjin is my soulmate. We made a pact like… 800 years ago. Wanted to stay together forever. Literally. Unfortunately, some deity was listening and granted out wish. So now, boom. Every lifetime I will end up bumping into that asshole and remember everything that has happened in all 87 of our past lives. There. You happy?”

 

There's the longest pause, and then Hoseok nods slowly, as if he’s suddenly talking to a very dangerous and volatile animal. “Uh… yeah. Very… happy. Of course, Yoongi.”

 

“Wait… are you sneaking your phone out of your pocket— fuck! Hoseok! Are you calling the mental hospital right now?”

 

“No...” Hoseok says in a way that makes it very obvious that he's lying.

 

“Fucking—! You promised me!”

 

“Hi, sorry, I would just like to report someone. Yeah. I think he's mentally disturbed. It was probably caused by ingestion of some moldy take-out. Caused mushrooms to grow in his brain.”

 

“Jung Hoseok! You put that fucking phone down this instant!”

 

~*~

 

“You have a what now?”

 

“I repeated myself five times already. Are you deaf, Jeon Jeongguk?”

 

“Er… if I say that I am, would you repeat what you said again?”

 

A sigh, “I said that I have a soulmate who has reincarnated with me for our past 87 lifetimes and I just remembered everything after bumping into him today. Is it really that hard to understand?”

 

There's a long pause now, and then abruptly, the young man sitting across from Seokjin at his kitchen table gets up, and crosses the length of Seokjin's kitchen in three quick strides.

 

“Jeongguk, why are you checking my refrigerator?”

 

“Need to check if you have any moldy take-out in here. Maybe you're high. Or hallucinating. Or mushrooms are growing in your brain.”

 

“Yah! You brat.” And sadly, the slipper that Seokjin hurls lands nowhere close to Jeongguk's person, instead landing sadly on the floor after bouncing off a kitchen cabinet. “That was one time, and only because I just stayed up straight for 72 hours to do my report. I could barely even see straight, let alone have mental capacity to discern that the green on top of the noodles wasn't chives.”

 

“Urgh. T.M.I, hyung,” Jeongguk makes a face.

 

“You're the one who started it.”

 

Jeongguk sighs, finally letting go of the fridge to lean against the nearest countertop, “okay. Just. If you're not hallucinating, then what other alternative is there?”

 

“I don't know, maybe, oh, here's something radical you could consider: maybe I'm telling the truth.”

 

“You know, that is actually more radical than your tone suggests it is.”

 

“Ah. Whatever. That's the truth of what happened in that cafe. Whether you wanna believe it or not, it doesn't matter.”

 

Jeongguk eyes Seokjin and the way he's fixedly staring at a spot in the table like he doesn't care whether his favourite cousin/colleague thinks he's a nutcase or not. Finally, Jeongguk sucks in a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

Seokjin blinks, before looking up in confusion. “Okay?”

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

“O...kay…?”

 

“Seriously, what do you want? Me to start screaming and doing the sign of the cross at you, and then throw you into the nuthouse?”

 

“You wouldn't have been the first.”

 

“What? Really?”

 

“Let's just say that I can probably write a book about the history mental institutions in Korea and the changing attitudes towards mental illnesses across the ages.”

 

Jeongguk makes a strange sort of confused and worried sucking sort of noise before he shakes his head. “Right. Anyway. Thankfully, we're in an era where conversation about mental illness is more widely accepted, so I'm not going to start telling everyone that you're possessed by the devil.”

 

“I guess that's something to be thankful for.”

 

“Right. Besides, I thought you were already a certifiable nutcase already, so what's one more thing to think you're crazy for.”

 

“Oh. I see.” Seokjin deadpans, “all fluffy feelings gone.”

 

“You do spend an abnormal amount of time screaming at inanimate objects, hyung. But anyway, point is, so you're supposedly some guy’s soulmate. It's not going to change anything. So why should I be concerned?”

 

Seokjin makes sure to pause long enough for the pause to be classified underneath ‘dramatic effect’, “well…”

 

“Somehow, I have a feeling that it isn't as dramatic as all that.”

 

“Well…” Seokjin easily ignores Jeongguk's dry ribbing. He's had a lot if practice. “You probably should be concerned, because Im going to bump into him a lot because fate is an asshole, and you're probably gonna be on cockblock duty a lot.”

 

“...Cockblock duty?”

 

“Yeah. You know. Stop me from having sex with him.”

 

“...What?”

 

~*~

 

“What do you mean, sex?”

 

Yoongi looks up at Namjoon. He's tired. He'd just explained all over again to his friend group over beer at a shitty bar exactly what his deal with the handsome customer at the cafe had been. Because, of course Hoseok had filmed Yoongi’s entire breakdown in the cafe, and of course he'd posted it in the chat group. He really doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with dumb questions. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean, sex’?”

 

“I—” Namjoon starts gesticulating, obviously taken back by Yoongi's acrid tone over his seemingly harmless question. “I mean… what do you mean by… sex?”

 

“Well, Namjoon, when two people are turned on by each other very much, they engage in activities where the pleasuring of reproductive organs and their vicinities occur.  Also see, fornication, copulation, coitus, lovemaking, woohoo, banging, doinking—”

 

“Doinking.” Jimin, who finds the strangest things funny starts cracking up. Hoseok reaches across Namjoon just so he can ruffle Jimin’s hair in fond amusement.

 

“—nooky, mating, carnal intercourse.” Yoongi's starting to run out if synonyms. “Most of the time we call it ‘fucking'.”

 

Namjoon just looks so done with him. “I know what sex is, Yoongi.”

 

“Then what's with that question?”

 

“Yoongi,” Namjoon now has the tone of someone dealing with either the elderly or a very small child. “Aren't you asexual?”

 

Oh. Right.

 

“Well,” Yoongi shrugs, trying to be as casual as he can. “No.”

 

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, ‘no'.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean, no—”

 

“Okay, I'm going to stop you two right there, because we all know this is going to devolve into a petty fight.” Hoseok eyes Namjoon before narrowing his gaze at Yoongi. “Also, I'm not letting you get away without explaining yourself. I sat through way too many 2 a.m. anxiety-fueled rants while you were still in your denial stage for you to get away with just a ‘nah, I'm actually not asexual anymore.”

 

Both Jimin and Namjoon nod. Yoongi supposed he'd been naive to think he could have wormed his way out of that.

 

Yoongi lets out a sigh. “Well, you know how we settled on the explanation that I’m ace because I couldn't get it up no matter what I did even though the doctors all said I was perfectly healthy? Well, the actual reason for that is not because I'm asexual, but because I'm intensely sexual — but unfortunately, only for one person.”

 

He pauses to see if his three friends are still with him and he's greeted with three intensely blank stares.

 

“Really?” Yoongi feels oddly let down by this development. “Even you, Namjoon? I thought having an IQ of 140 would mean something.”

 

“It's 148 actually.”

 

Yoongi gives him a pointed look. Namjoon sighs, “just. In simple terms? Please? It's been a long day.”

 

Jimin glanced at Namjoon, giving him the strangest of looks. “You spent the entire day watching top 5 creepy things videos.”

 

“Exactly. Do you know what kind of headspace that puts you in? I've been seeing shadows out of the corners of my eyes the whole day.”

 

“Joon,” Hoseok is doing that thing with his lips that somehow makes anyone looking at it feel guilty even though they'd done nothing wrong. “I told you to stop watching those kinds of videos. They get your anxiety up, and when you're anxiety is up you make even less rational decisions and everyone around you suffers.”

 

“I know.” Namjoon at least has the sense to look chastised. “But I'm running dry on inspiration these days, and torturing myself into a weird mindscape is bad but it's the only thing that consistently works. Also, like, at this point I'm pretty close to being living evidence that the necessity of a tortured artist is a thing and—”

 

“Ahem.” Yoongi pouts, his arms folded, having looked consequently more sulky with each moment that had passed. “Are you guys still interested in why I said I'm not asexual or not?”

 

“Aw,” Jimin cooes a little, leaning over so that he can rest his chin his palm, looking all in the world like a kitten eyeing a too big bird for lunch. “Yoongi-hyung’s so cute when he's pouting because he feels ignored.”

 

“You know how ironic that is right?” Yoongi hisses, “also, bitch. You are the ones ignoring me.”

 

“Okay, okay. We're sorry for ignoring you, Yoongi-yah.” Hoseok pats Yoongi's arm placatingly. “Come, tell us why you're suddenly not asexual.”

 

Yoongi takes a deep breath and opens his mouth.

 

“Simple terms this time, hyung.” Hoseok reminds.

 

Yoongi glares at Hoseok, giving stated pause as if to make sure that no one will interrupt him again before saying, “the soulmate thing came with a clause. I can only have sex with my soulmate. So, the yelling guy at the coffeeshop? Seokjin? He's the only one who will ever be able to give me a boner. Simple enough?”

 

He's greeted again with three very blank stares.

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

~*~

 

“Wait. So you mean… you can actually have sex?”

 

Seokjin clenches his fist for the hundredth time today, squashing down, yet again, the murderous urge to club someone over the head. Like the guy in front of him, Taehyung, who’s a good guy (most of the time), but also has a steeping learning curve that most people. Or Jeongguk, who decided that it would be a good idea to update Taehyung of Seokjin's current soulmate predicament. (It's not.)

 

“Yes. But only with one person.” Seokjin says through gritted teeth.

 

“But how does that work?” Taehyung's eyebrows are furrowed. “Like he touches your dick and you get hard?”

 

“That's as accurate a description of what happens as any, I suppose.”

 

“But other people touch your dick, and… nothing?”

 

“Yep.”

 

There's a pause. And luckily, Seokjin has known Taehyung long enough that he manages to jab his hand down in time to grab Taehyung's wrist. “Do not touch my dick.”

 

Taehyung pouts, “but how are we supposed to prove that you really still don't get hard when people touch your dick? And we all know how legendary the handjobs I give are.”

 

“No, we don't know that, and we don't want to know.” Seokjin ignores the way Jeongguk’s eyes glance to the side as he takes a far too nonchalant sip of his beer. “Besides, Jeongguk can confirm that I don't get hard when other people touch my dick.”

 

Taehyung blinks, slowly pulling his hand out of Seokjin’s hold. “Wait. You mean, Jeongguk touched your dick? Isn't that incest?”

 

“I wore gloves.” Jeongguk explains, “or. I wore plastic bags that I fashioned into gloves. That way, I didn’t actually touch him.”

 

“Ahhhhhh…”

 

“I have no idea how that rationale makes sense to either of you.” Seokjin rubs his face, the migraine he's had since he was five years old growing.

 

“But, doesn't that mean the experiment is flawed? I mean, only a very select few people would have kinks about being jerked off with a plastic bag.”

 

“Yes.” Jeongguk snapped his fingers. “Exactly my thought after I did my experiment. And that is why we're here. At the bar.”

 

“I thought we were here because you wanted to get laid, and Jin-hyung is here because he has a huge soft spot for you and only minimally complains about us ditching him to nurse the drinks while we go dancing.”

 

“Well, no. We're not going to be ordering drinks today actually. At all. We're going to hit the dance floor. With Jin-hyung.”

 

Taehyung's eyes furrow for a moment and then he snaps his fingers. “Ahhhhh…”

 

“Great, you see where I'm going with this then—”

 

“I forgot to put on lip balm! No wonder my lips felt so dry!”

 

Jeongguk just stares at Taehyung incredulously, and Seokjin feels like his headache lessens a little, like Jeongguk is sharing his headache with him a little. “Seriously. Dude. What the fuck?”

 

“Hey. I'll let you know that lip moisturizing is very important.”

 

“Yeah. But we were talking about Jin-hyung.”

 

“What about him?”

 

“You know what? Nevermind.” And once again, Seokjin has an inkling that Taehyung is just messing with Jeongguk at this point. Or… not. Seokjin can never really tell. “Come on, Jin-hyung. Let's try to get you laid.”

 

2 hours and thirty five and a half strangers later, Jeongguk finally gives up.

 

“Thank god.” Seokjin says as he shuffles back to the bar. “I think I have cloth burn on my dick.”

 

“Even though I've seen it many times, it's still amazing to see you so unmoved after so many hot people touched you.” Jeongguk sounds weirdly disappointed. Like he'd been looking forward to a show.

 

“Trust me. I wish as much as you do that any one of those hot people had given me a boner. Like dimpled tall man, or dancer dude, or fantastic ass.” Seokjin sighs as he shifts his pants a little. “It's actually even more depressing now since I know the reason for it.”

 

“I mean, I didn't see dimpled tall man or dancer dude, so I'll take your word for it. But anyway. So the cute, grumpy little barista at the cafe is the only one who can make little Jin stand at attention, huh?”

 

“Okay, first of all, there's nothing ‘little' about this.” Seokjin gestured at his crotch. “Second of all, I agree with grumpy and little, but he isn't cute.”

 

“Actually, he objectively kinda is, even if he isn't my type. Has that sorta… tsundere cat sorta vibe. Like the kind that pretends he doesn't want affection, but then the moment you stop paying attention to him he starts pouting.”

 

Seokjin pretends he doesn't feel unnerved. Jeongguk's observation is uncannily accurate. It's one of the aspects of Yoongi that has had Seokjin feeling irrationally annoyed of on the bad days.

 

He ignores the voice in him that says that it’d been something Seokjin used to find annoyingly adorable on the good days before Seokjin had decided to hate Min Yoongi.

 

He definitely ignores the even smaller voice that says that it's something he still finds annoyingly adorable to this day.

 

Squashes it, with the proverbial murderous pillow. It's dead now.

 

Dead. Like a cockroach under the heels of his shiny dress shoes.

 

“So, where did Taehyung go anyway.”

 

“I think he's still in the dance floor. Last I saw him, his hands had practically fused with fantastic ass’ ass.” Jeongguk says thoughtfully, which should have been Seokjin’s big warning not to pick up his drink. Jeongguk actually thinking had never been a good thing. “So, actually, big question. If tsundere barista is the only one who can get you off, why don't you have sex with him?”

 

Seokjin chokes on his bourbon in dramatic fashion.

 

After five minutes of trying to get the burn of alcohol out from his nostrils, Seokjin glares at Jeongguk, who had stared uselessly at Seokjin the entire time Seokjin had nearly had an alcohol inhalation induced death. “What the fuck?”

 

“It's a legitimate question, hyung. I mean, there's only one person in the world you can have sex with, and you wish you could have sex. So… one plus one equals two, you should have sex with him.”

 

“What? No— okay, stop looking all reasonable like that. Your argument isn't as logical as one plus one equals two, so stop looking so smug.”

 

“And pray tell, why exactly isn't it a logical argument?”

 

“Did you miss the fact that I absolutely hate the guy?”

 

Jeongguk folds his arms. “Again, not seeing the problem. All I said was that you have sex with him. I'm not like asking you to marry him or something.”

 

“I already said I hate him!”

 

“Hate sex is a thing, hyung.” Jeongguk deadpans. “Some people opine that it's arguably hotter than regular sex actually.”

 

“Where the fuck did you learn big words like opine? Can you please go back to being the big baby millenial you actually are?”

 

“I learned it from the internet, actually.” Jeongguk says breezily. “Now can you answer the question already? Or do I have to hack into your phone and send Min Yoongi a message begging him for his forgiveness.”

 

Seokjin's blood freezes cold. “You wouldn't.”

 

“You know I would.”

 

Seokjin does know that Jeongguk totally would. “You don't have his number.”

 

“I know where he works, and I bet he didn't get a good look at my face earlier because he was preoccupied with you, so I could get his number easy.”

 

“Oh, fuck you, Jeon Jeongguk.” Seokjin hisses, caught between a rock and a hard place. He hates explaining this part. No one ever believes him until it's too late. “I'd call you a son of a bitch, but your mother is actually a really nice woman makes the best kimchi in the whole of Busan, so I think the rot is probably something internal and not inherited.”

 

“Ouch.” Jeongguk frowns, “that actually kind of stings. Who spit in your beancurd?”

 

Seokjin gives Jeongguk a pointed look.

 

“Yes but, I mean. Why do you hate the guy so much?” Jeongguk's eyes narrow. “Actually, you know what? I bet it's because of something trivial and you're just being overdramatic.”

 

Now, Seokjin will be the first to admit that he is actually, very overdramatic. It's something he does on purpose — a cultivated response because he realizes that this is one of the few ways he can actually get people to pay attention to him. But he doesn't use this discovered power just for anything. Especially, when it comes to things like hating someone. Yeah, sure. He might complain too loudly and too much over someone who might cut to the front of a queue during lunch. But hating someone? He doesn't use the word ‘hate' so lightly. It's a strong word after all.

 

And Jeongguk should know this.

 

“Oh.” Jeongguk says after a few moments of deathly silence, made all the more worse by the fact that the club is in the middle of switching DJs so the music had been cut odd. Seokjin feels all the more validated by this cosmic coincidence. “Shit. You're… Actually offended.”

 

But before Seokjin can even reply, Jeongguk has shrunk down to half his normal mass, peering at Seokjin with wide and kicked-puppy eyes. “Sorry, hyung. I didn't mean to make you angry.”

 

Seokjin knows from countless experience that it's impossible to remain angry at Jeongguk when he's like this. So he doesn't really fight the evaporation of his anger too much. “It's fine. Just. Don't do it again.”

 

“Yeah… yeah… just… hyung. What did this Min Yoongi guy do to make you hate him so much?”

 

“I—” and even as Seokjin tries to think of legitimate excuses, he realizes he's pretty much bricked himself in a corner with the indirect reminder that he doesn't hate people so easily. “Okay, fine. I don't actually really hate him, just the situation that I've been stuck in for the past thousand years with him.”

 

“Fair enough, but then, that doesn't explain the aversion to sex.” Jeongguk frowns, “if anything. I thought you guys would fuck more. Make the best out a bad situation.”

 

And unfortunately, the reason for that had been what Seokjin had been trying to avoid explaining in the first place.

 

But it's not like Seokjin can really escape now. And so he sinks deep into contemplation, trying to figure out the best way to break it to Jeongguk.

 

He sinks so deep into thought, that he doesn't notice when a group of three guys detach from the dance floor and start to jostle their way to the bar, arguing loudly the whole way. Which, isn't that surprising because, this is a club after all, and Seokjin has gotten really good at blocking out party noise as white noise while sitting at the table and nursing his friends’ drinks — it's a really good time to ruminate about life’s important questions, he's found. Such as, how the colloquialism ‘screwing' had come about since the act of sex actually resembled hammering rather than screwing; and he'd realized that it's probably just how a ‘blowjob' is called a ‘blowjob' and not a ‘suckjob', because really, in 87 lifetimes, he'd have gotten smacked in the face by Yoongi if he actually did blow on Yoongi’s dick, because that was being a fucking tease.

 

Anyway.

 

He's decided that it would probably be best to tell Jeongguk the truth straight. Like ripping off a bandaid.

 

“So, you see, Jeongguk. The thing about the soulmate curse, is, yeah. Me and Min Yoongi can only have sex with each other—”

 

Or, he could totally end up panicking and messing up, and not even realizing in the word vomit that occurs, that the arguing trio’s argument had started becoming a bit physical, and they were starting to totter dangerously closer and closer in the direction Seokjin and Jeongguk are sitting.

 

“—which would be a good thing, normally. But the thing is, for the past 87 lifetimes, after I have sex with him for the first time, I always end up—”

 

There's a loud yell somewhere next to his ear, and the next thing he knows, something has collided into him from the side; and in his surprise, Seokjin doesn't even react to the force. Just automatically catches whoever it is that has carened into him, arm going around a strangely familiar waist almost like instinct, preventing the other from falling over.

 

“—dying.”

 

He hates how it takes him but two seconds to recognize the panicked eyes that stare down at him, which expression is slowly turning into recognition and dread. Hates how he isn't even really surprised that this is happening yet again. Hates how he figures that this would be the way the universe would throw them together again — with Min Yoongi practically falling into his arms, hands propped up against Seokjin’s thighs in a rather precarious attempt to hold himself from planting a bit wet one onto Seokjin’s lips.

 

“Seokjin?” comes Yoongi’s frazzled voice like he can't quite believe it. Seokjin gives him 5 seconds before the whine will creep into Yoongi’s voice again.

 

“Yoongi.” Seokjin greets in a way of a sigh. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Before Yoongi can reply, Jeongguk suddenly yells, pointing beyond Seokjin's shoulder. “Ah! Hoseok-hyung?”

 

“Eh?” One of the two who had been accompanying Yoongi stares pointing at Jeongguk in equal surprise as Seokjin realizing he's dancer dude from earlier. “Jeonggukkie! Is that you?”

 

As if things couldn't get any weirder, Taehyung appears suddenly out of nowhere, a guy Seokjin recognizes at fantastic ass practically glued to his side. “Jeonggukie! Jin-hyung! This is Jiminie, and he says that he has a friend who's in exactly the same situation as Jin-hyung and—”

 

At that moment, one of Yoongi’s hands finally slips, Taehyung’s interruption the straw to break the camel’s back — or at least, Yoongi's concentration. And of course, Yoongi's palms lands smack onto Seokjin's dick.

 

“—wait.” Taehyung seems to finally catch on that something isn't quite right here. “What's going on? Why is the atmosphere weird? Who's the dude groping Jin-hyung’s dick?”

 

Seokjin would have liked to answer Taehyung. And normally, Seokjin probably could despite someone's hand doing a Thai massage on his dick. And instinctively, he opens his mouth to do so.

 

But normally, that hand on his dick doesn't belong to Min Yoongi, aka, the one person in the whole world who can make him hard. So of course, what he does instead is give a really, really loud moan.

 

Of course, there's an incredibly long lull of silence at this moment so that Seokjin's moan broadcasts loudly across the whole bar because this is Seokjin's life and the universe loves to fuck him over; and everyone and their mothers turn to look at him.

 

And Yoongi. They turn to look at both him and Yoongi. Seokjin is reminded of Yoongi’s presence because Yoongi has always been bad at suddenly being the center of attention, and as all eyes swivel to them, he stiffens and clenches his hand.

 

With Seokjin's dick still in it.

 

Jeon Jeongguk watches as Seokjin arches up and moans with all the graceful beauty of a beached whale and says, “what the fuck is going on?”

 

~*~

 

“So… how does everyone know each other?”

 

“Jeongguk comes for weekly dance classes at the studio I work for. He's a pretty good student actually, despite the fact that he only comes once a week.”

 

“Oh, that's really cause you're a good teacher.”

 

“Ahaha! You really know how to suck up to a person, don't you?”

 

“Wait, Hobi-hyung. If Jeongguk-sshi comes for your classes, why have I never seen him before.”

 

“He comes on your weekly clubbing night, Jimin. That's why you've never seen him before. Speaking of which… how do you know…”

 

“Oh? Tae Tae? (Namjoon takes this moment to mouth an incredulous ‘Tae Tae’ to Yoongi.) Nah. We literally just met on the dance floor earlier.”

 

Jeongguk's eye twitches as he voices the question on everyone's mind: “okay, so why are you two sharing a chair then?”

 

“What do you mean? There's only six chairs and there's seven of us. Two of us had to share a chair.”

 

“Yeah, but it could have been— you know what? Never mind. Let's move on—”

 

“If you're going to ask how me and Yoongi to detail how we know each other,” Seokjin says in the tone he tends to use whenever he's threatening Jungkook with no food. “Let me remind you that I have blackmail material on you to last two eternities.”

 

“Not… logically possible, but okay. I was really going to ask that guy anyway.”

 

All eyes serve to Namjoon, who has been awkwardly picking at the drink of his straw. He looks back up at them like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“I— er.” Namjoon swallows, looking more like he's looking down the barrel of a gun rather than being asked to answer a simple question. “I swear, I only know the people I came into the club with. No one else.”

 

“Right.” Jeongguk says before there is an incredibly awkward silence. “Small world I guess.”

 

“No.” Yoongi and Seokjin reply, eerily in tandem, before they start glaring at each other.

 

“That's… kind of creepy,” Hoseok eyes the two of them a little like they might turn their head 360 degrees and start crawling on the ceiling.

 

“No, what was creepy was seeing Jin-hyung actually get a boner.” Jeongguk shudders a little. “I don't ever think I want to see that again.”

 

“Well, good. Then you'll be more effective in stopping me from having sex with him.” Seokjin doesn't even look at Yoongi as he jams his thumb in the other’s direction.

 

“Excuse you,” Yoongi bristles. “You say that like it's the most horrible thing. It is not the most horrible thing.”

 

“Actually, it objectively is. Anyone would agree.”

 

“Only because of the result! Not the sex itself!”

 

“Okay,” Hoseok suddenly cuts in, because he's very polite that way. “You guys are going to fill me in, because what exactly is so bad about having sex with each other. I mean, I sort of get the part where it's like old married couple so you're kind of bored of each other. But this… This is bordering on revulsion. Is the sex really bad or what?”

 

Yoongi glares across the bar at Seokjin. Somehow, they've managed to sit across the bar from each other but still be in each other's direct line of sight. “I literally just said that the sex isn't bad.”

 

There silence, and then Yoongi growls, “yah! Why does everyone look like they don't believe me?”

 

“Because you look like someone who would barely know what to do with a dick in their face.” Seokjin titters almost drunkenly.

 

“Don't laugh, hyung.” Taehyung somehow manages to nudge Seokjin in the leg despite his lap being full of Park Jimin. “If you were the one who had said that we wouldn't have believed you either.”

 

“Yah!—”

 

“It's just that,” Namjoon says gently, interrupting the protests because they can start again. “If neither of have had sex for… What did you say it was? At least 80 lifetimes, then I'd say you'd probably be a little rusty even if you used to be good.”

 

It's really odd the way both Seokjin's and Yoongi's mouths both click shut at exactly the same time, and they both turn to look at the floor as if it's suddenly the most fascinating thing in existence.

 

Namjoon's eyebrow furrows, “...wait… you two haven't had sex with each other for a long while… Right?”

 

More silence. Seokjin even whistles a little, examining a piece of lint on his clothes.

 

Namjoon sort of leans back, looking like someone had told him that there wasn't DNA in human blood cells. “I don't know what to do with this information.”

 

“Wait, wait.” Jeongguk has a look on his face like that time when he’d binged on breakfast burritos before subsequently getting so busy that he'd forgotten to drink water for the whole day. “So… the two of you have been fucking?”

 

“Not now—”

 

“Not now, yes.” Jeongguk waves his hand dismissively. “But past few lifetimes or whatever.”

 

Seokjin and Yoongi eye each other warily before saying, “yes.”

 

“So, the sex isn't bad, and you two aren't awkward virgins acting on first-time anxiety. What's the fucking problem then? Why won't you have sex with each other?”

 

Seokjin's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I thought I just said earlier.”

 

“Earlier, when?”

 

“Like earlier… Just before Yoongi came over.”

 

“Like ‘I got super distracted by the fact that my monk-like cousin who has never even had the hints of a boner suddenly started behaving like a pornstar’ earlier?”

 

“...Right. I guess I'll have to repeat it.” Seokjin says reluctantly, before his eyes dart over to Yoongi. “Or you could do the honours I guess.”

 

“Me?” Yoongi scowls, although it might be from the surprise of the mention of his name. “Why me? Your friend is the one who asked.”

 

“Your friends want to know the same thing. Mine was just faster in asking.” Seokjin shoots back. “Besides, you owe me.”

 

“I owe you?” Yoongi's incredulous expression is actually pretty impressive. Seokjin had forgotten. “How do you figure that.”

 

“Trust me. I'm pretty sure that I died way more painfully than you did.”

 

“Oh? Did you?”

 

“Extremely excruciating. Even without any embellishments.”

 

“Well, I’ll bet—”

 

“Okay. I'm sorry to interrupt, but…” and Namjoon raises a hand up slowly. “...Why are we talking about painful deaths?”

 

Seokjin sighs, glancing at Yoongi. “I hate saying it. But I guess I have no choice—”

 

“Oh! Oh! Oh! I know!”

 

“—or I guess I could let Taehyung say it for the room. Go ahead, Tae.”

 

“I know where I've seen you, Namjoon-sshi! It was at that gallery! At the toilet! And we got into a deep conversation about surrealism!”

 

There's the longest pause, and then Namjoon starts slapping his hand on his thigh, nearly knocking off three glasses from the bar. “Oh! Right! You looked familiar, but I didn't recognize you without the duck hat!”

 

Seokjin lets out an almighty sigh. “Seriously, Taehyung. I can't bring you anywhere.”

 

~*~

 

They decide on shifts. Rotations. It's sort of easy since Jeongguk is Seokjin's lackey assistant, and his bonus literally depends on how well he sticks to Seokjin. And it's even better that Hoseok is Yoongi's roommate and colleague, so there's literally always someone with Yoongi who knows. Weekends are a little tricky, and Yoongi does have to join Hoseok's early Saturday morning class, but it all works out in the end.

 

At some point in the hour long discussion, however, Jimin gets bored of playing footsie with Taehyung and asks, “why are we going through so much trouble anyway? Can't you just like… not have sex if you happen to meet each other?”

 

Yoongi pauses to give Jimin an incredulous look. “Are you seriously asking that? Jimin? You? King of hook ups? Person who's default answer is ‘sex' to every get to know you question there ever is?”

 

“Right,” Jimin has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, “I realized after I asked the question that I probably should have gotten Namjoon-hyung to ask it. Namjoon-hyung, could you ask them that question?”

 

Namjoon looks up from where he's been helping Hoseok aggressively key in reminders into Google calendar. “No, I— I've kind of given up making any logic of all of this. It's obviously working beyond the rules of what the human brain can understand. So if Yoongi-hyung and Seokjin-sshi says they hate each other guts, but also can't restrain themselves like rational human beings and stop themselves having sex despite knowing the very dire consequences of death, then I'm just going to take it.”

 

“I…” And Seokjin looks a little confused. “I... don't know whether to be grateful or offended by what he just said.”

 

“It's Namjoon.” Yoongi says after a bit, disgruntled in a fond sort of way. “You get used to it after a while.”

 

“Yoongi? Hyung?” Hoseok looks up after a moment. “I just synced over the schedule from Seokjin-sshi’s side and it says that it's at our cafe? Jeongguk-gun, did you key it in wrong?”

 

“Huh?” Jeongguk looks up in confusion. “What? No… I did? Oh, wow. I did. That's fucking weird.”

 

“Did you… not realize what you're typing down?” Jimin asks curiously.

 

“Yeah. It's a skill I had to learn, because Jin-hyung gives a lot of questionable instructions—”

 

“Yah!”

 

“—bst it's really not professional to give him a judging side-eye while meeting clients or bosses, so I just file it away and judge him for it quietly later.”

 

“The disrespect I get from this punk.” Seokjin mumbles disquietly under his breath. “Can't believe it.”

 

“Anyway,” Hoseok interjects before the conversation can derail even further. “So it isn't a mistake that the both of you are going to be at the cafe?”

 

Yoongi sighs, “no.”

 

“Aren't you two supposed to avoid each other?”

 

“We couldn't even if we wanted to. Universe won't let us.”

 

Hoseok stares at Yoongi like he's finally had his mid-life crisis, cracked, and started subscribing to some kind of new-age bullshit. “The universe? Jesus, Yoongi. You sound like you had your mid-life crisis, cracked, and then started subscribing to some kind of new-age bullshit.”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Universe. Fate. Destiny. God. Whatever you wanna call it. But whatever it was that made this ‘soulmate, can't have sex with anyone else and once we do we die’ bullshit is very insistent with deus ex machina. So we've found, after years of observation, if we don't fight it so much, it tends to do less drastic things.”

 

“Drastic things like…?”

 

“Drastic things like getting us stuck underneath a pile of rubble in the aftermath of an earthquake.”

 

“What?”

 

“Or getting caught up in a riot and then handcuffed together in a prison headed for death row.”

 

“What?”

 

“Actually,” Seokjin speaks up then, because it looks like Yoongi's friends are having a hard time believing him. “I think the most dramatic one was when we literally tried to migrate to escape each other, but our planes went down, and we both drifted to the same deserted island.”

 

Now even Taehyung looks incredulous. “You're kidding.”

 

“No. We ended up fucking just so we could hasten the process and go onto the next life. Because the mosquitos there? Worse than death.”

 

“Wait…” Jimin says slowly. “You mean you actually die?”

 

Everyone in the room stares at him. And Seokjin gives him a puzzled frown. “Yeah. We actually die. Of course we actually die. Why else do you think we were so serious about all this.”

 

Jimin shrugs, “I don't know. Just… Yoongi is a surprisingly dramatic person.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Yeah. Actually, that's kind of true.” Seokjin says after a beat, almost to himself. “He is surprisingly dramatic.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“But in any case, we're being serious about this, because we really die. And we really have observed that the universe is less likely to fuck us over if we play along with it a little. So, we try, and play along and hope it will be satisfied.”

 

~*~

 

Except, apparently, the whole clusterfuck of a night isn't enough to satisfy the universe. Seokjin isn't even surprised anymore.

 

“...Fuck.” Seokjin heaves an almighty sigh when he sees two annoyingly familiar people standing at the doorstep of his apartment, yelling expletives at a retreating car.

 

He pays his uber before calling out. “Uber went to the wrong place and then refused to drive you back to your house?”

 

It's rather satisfying to see both Hoseok and Yoongi swerve around to face him, a look of surprise on their faces.

 

Of course, that's spoiled a moment later when Yoongi groans, “of course this would be your apartment.”

 

“Who else’s right?” Seokjin says wryly before sighing again. “Alright, come on up.”

 

“Eh? Wait! It's alright. We can just get another uber home.” Hoseok immediately protests.

 

“Ah, don't bother, Hobi.” Yoongi reaches out, patting a confused Hoseok on the arm. “We'd just end up back here somehow. Come on.”

 

It's a little awkward in the elevator, with Hoseok standing there. Especially since he seems rather obliged to cover up the thick silence. Seokjin kind of wishes this was the seventies and there was still elevator music pumped into elevators.

 

“So… Seokjin-sshi… what do you do?”

 

“Just call me ‘hyung'. We're probably going to see a lot of each other,” is Seokjin’s reply. “And to answer your question, I'm just a regular office worker. Marketing and sales.”

 

“Oh? Which company?”

 

Most people are impressed when he tells them the company he works for. It's a big company — an MNC than any self-respecting Korean citizen would wish to get hired by. Hoseok isn't any different, and he actually congratulates Seokjin on it. Which is… kind of sweet actually.

 

Yoongi however, asks, “are you happy there?”

 

He's forgotten that gaze, somehow. Forgotten how Yoongi can look at him as if he can see right through Seokjin. Forgotten how that eyebrow would raise when Seokjin gives the bullshit answer of, “it pays me money that I can use to do things that make me happy.”

 

Seokjin doesn't know who is more relieved when the lift door opens — him or Hoseok.

 

The apartment he has is serviceable — a bit bigger than is needed for one person. But with how much Jeongguk stays over at his place because of work, it’s just as well.

 

“Jeongguk has a mattress in my room. We don't bother keeping it because he's over so often anyway. You can take it for tonight. He won't mind.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” And Hoseok gives Yoongi a look that Seokjin doesn't know how to interpret and Yoongi seems confused by. “Do you want me to help you move it out?”

 

“Move it out?” Seokjin blinks. “Move it out where?”

 

“To the living room?” Hoseok blinks back. “So that I can sleep?”

 

“Why would I want you to do that?” is Seokjin's confused reply. “You have to be in my room so to make sure that I don't sleep with Yoongi.”

 

Hoseok's mouth opens before the closes, and then he opens again. Will he say something, or won't he? The suspense is killing Seokjin. “Sorry. Just. Curious. Where is Yoongi sleeping exactly?”

 

Seokjin glances over at Yoongi before he says, “my bed. Obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Hoseok repeats incredulous. He looks over to Yoongi, who offers absolutely no help. “Erm. Didn't we sit through a whole hour of us arranging babysitters—”

 

“Cockblockers.” Yoongi interjects before Seokjin can.

 

“...cockblockers,” Hoseok sighs. “We spent an unholy amount of time arranging for people to be around you both at all times because the universe wants you both dead by magically making it really conducive for the both of you having sex even though the both of you supposedly hate each other. Or was I… the only one who lived through that?”

 

Seokjin sighs. Eight-four lifetimes and he's really tired of explaining it over and over again. “Right. See—”

 

“You know what, Jin?” Yoongi suddenly interrupts. “I'll take the couch tonight.”

 

Seokjin stared at Yoongi, before slowly raising his eyebrow. Yoongi raised his eyebrows as well, before cocking his head towards Hoseok. Seokjin wrinkled his nose and—

 

“Hey, hey. I'm too young to have friends my age who communicate using telepathic shorthand like old married couples. Use words, people.” And Hoseok looks so ridiculously put off that Seokjin doesn't have anything else to say other than, “we kinda are”, which won't set him off laughing.

 

“I'll just take the couch.” Yoongi finally declares, moving to push Hoseok over to Seokjin’s room. “We'll help ourselves to the mattress. You go do your ten step clay mask ritual thing, or whatever.”

 

“It’s a seven step dead sea clay skin exfoliation ritual, Yoongi! And that was in fucking 1995, you're outdated! It's snail snort these days!”

 

“Well, then go do your seven step snail snort ritual!” Yoongi yelled back as they step into Seokjin’s room. Yoongi doesn't hear Seokjin’s returning quip because he's too caught up in the realization that, even though the decor and wall colour and layout is different, this just feels like Seokjin’s room.

 

“Hey.” Thankfully, Yoongi is snapped out of this disturbing revelation by Hoseok… snapping his fingers. “So… you gonna tell me what that whole song and dance was about? Why did Seokjin say you were going to sleep on his bed?”

 

Yoongi just grins, looking over at Seokjin’s bed. Good. High count sateen. Seems like the unconscious habit that Seokjin had picked up from Yoongi was still going strong despite all the memory blanks in between meetings. “Oh. You'll see in the morning.”

 

~*~

 

It's 10 a.m. at the cafe the next day, and Jeongguk already feels like he needs a stiff drink. “So… you're saying that… when you woke up, Yoongi-hyung was somehow in Jin-hyung’s room, and you found the both of them, still asleep, but Yoongi was somehow mouthing Jin-hyung's dick through his pajamas and somehow Jin-hyung didn't wake up despite the massive boner he had?”

 

“Hey, don't look at me like that.” Hoseok sniffs, pressing down on the coffee tamper harder than he should. “I saw what I saw.”

 

“Before he ran out shrieking.” Yoongi snorts as he shoves the scoop back into the ice box. “Thanks for that. I nearly choked on Seokjin’s dick when he got startled by the noise and jerked upwards.”

 

“Well, sorry for being so big.” Seokjin says sweetly, not even looking up from the excel sheet he's drafting.

 

Jeongguk sees the quarrel starting even before Yoongi takes in the breath to start it. “Ah! So… you knew you'd end up sleepwalking to Jin-hyung's bed, Yoongi-hyung?”

 

“No. That's the fucking thing.” Hoseok hisses, “he's never sleepwalked in his life.”

 

“I didn't sleepwalk last night either.” Yoongi suddenly says, as if he's not about to drop a bomb on all of them. “Hoseok did actually. He picked me up, carried me to Seokjin’s bed, dropped me like a sack of potatoes, patted my butt and told me to have fun before waltzing out of the door.”

 

“This is why I said Yoongi was going to sleep on my bed.” Seokjin adds, “like we said last night, things tend to be less drastic when we don't fight it too much.”

 

Hoseok and Jeongguk both stare blankly at Yoongi before Hoseok says. “You're making that up.”

 

“No.” Yoongi replies, “I actually wasn't even awake for it. Me and Seokjin watched the security footage while you were still freaking out.”

 

“You're kidding.” Hoseok looks over to Jeongguk, his last vestige of hope. “Why would you have a security camera inside your house?” But of course Jeongguk knows all about Seokjin’s security camera. He'd helped install it after all.

 

“Actually, why do you have security cameras inside your house?” Yoongi asks, and Jeongguk already knows that this won't end well.

 

“None of your fucking business,” is Seokjin’s prompt and expected reply, and Jeongguk doesn't have any other distraction topic to stop Yoongi from taking a deep, argumentative breath.

 

Jeongguk sighs instead, slinking down in his seat as he wonders how much worse this can get.

 

~*~

 

“Yeah, this got much worse.” Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, more because he doesn't know what exactly he should do with the scene that had unfolded right in front of him more than from any other compelling reason.

 

“Sorry, what did you say?” and Jeongguk barely looks at the guy who had spoken. It's one of Yoongi Mcfuckface’s friends — the long one with the noodle arms and legs. What was his name again? Right, Namjoon.

 

Anyway, Jeongguk doesn't pay attention to Namjoon because he doesn't seem to be doing anything to rectify the situation that has happened in front of them. In other words, he's useless to Jeongguk, because right now, all Jeongguk wants is for Min Yoongi to get his ass out of his Jin-hyung's hands.

 

“Oh my god— Jin! Get your fucking hands off my ass!”

 

“I would if I could get them out of the ten dog leashes that's tying us together,” and then. “Stop getting turned on by my hands on your ass!”

 

“What the fuck? It's not like I'm getting turned on on purpose! It's your hands on my ass. I'm not fucking made of stone. Of course I'm gonna get a fucking boner!”

 

“Erm… maybe the two of you could… keep it down a little?” Namjoon’s voice is strangely high and thin, no doubt thinking of all the kiddies who are being snatched left and right off the sidewalk by parents hoping to protect their innocence. At least, that’s what Jeongguk is hoping, and it isn't some sort of convoluted kidnapping scheme happening right under their noses.

 

And then, in eerily synced timing that Jeongguk will never ever get used to, both Seokjin and Shorty McFuckFace turn at the same time to shout, “shut up, Namjoon.” And then Pasty ShortFuckFace continues yelling, “use your 150 IQ for something useful for once!”

 

“It's only 148, hyung!” Namjoon yells back, and Jeongguk wonders if the minus two points makes any sort of difference.

 

“Then use your 148 IQ to help us get out of this!”

 

“To be honest, my 148 IQ is struggling to even comprehend how it was even remotely possible for this to have happened.” Namjoon mumbles under his breath, and despite himself, Jeongguk can't help but agree.

 

For one thing, it's the weekend. Who the fuck works on weekends right? Well, apparently the universe. But Jeongguk hadn't known that, and after vigilantly making sure Seokjin and Yoongi didn't go further than accidentally touching dicks for three seconds for a whole week, he thought he could maybe relax a little bit. Go for a nice jog out in the park with his hyung without the threat of Min Yoongi getting frisky with his hyung hanging over their heads.

 

Unfortunately, not only had Min Yoongi shown up, he'd shown up the same time as a dog sitter trying to walk ten dogs at the same time; along with one racoon, which had somehow stolen a piece of sausage from someone having a picnic nearby.

 

It would have been a majestic scene to witness, Jeongguk supposes. A racoon running through, sausage clasped in it’s mouth; ten dogs noses lifting up and following at the exact same time; Seokjin nearly tripping as a blur runs around his legs, just as Yoongi stumbles out from a grove of trees right after Namjoon just in time to get nearly barrelled over by a swarm of dogs, and right into Seokjin’s chest.

 

But Jeongguk is also kind of emotionally invested in such a scene not happening, so it's less majestic and more along the lines of downright horrifying.

 

Jeongguk doesn't remember what’d happened next exactly, mostly because it'd been a mess of dogs, leashes and a lot of screaming. All he knows is that after the dust had settled, Seokjin and Yoongi are standing there, bound together my ten dog leashes, with the attached dogs still yapping around at their feet. Oh, and somehow, Yoongi's pants and underwear had been pulled down enough to reveal his bare ass with Seokjin's hands planted very firmly on them.

 

Speaking of which:

 

“Stop squeezing my ass!”

 

“I am not squeezing your ass! I'm trying to wriggle my hands because these leashes are cutting off my blood circulation. I can't fucking feel my fingers anymore.”

 

“Well, then, don't squeeze my butt when you're doing it.” Yoongi growls, huffing. “Ow, fuck. Your phone is digging into my hip, can you shift it a bit?”

 

Jeongguk stares at Seokjin’s phone, which is very much in his hand where Seokjin had left it when he'd asked Jeongguk to hold it while he’d stopped to tie his shoelace.

 

“Oh, what the fuck, you're hard?”

 

“Says the one who’s boner has been poking into my thigh for the past five minutes!”

 

“Oh, so it's ok for you to have a boner, but I can't?”

 

Namjoon is rubbing his face, looking a tad bit hysterical. “Okay, they're at it again. This is way worse than the cubicle incident of Thursday— Jeongguk-gun? What are you doing with that piece of ham? Where did you even get that piece of ham?”

 

“Emergency stash.” Jeongguk says, which in no way explains why he's rubbing it up and down all over his exposed skin — arms, legs and even his face. “But well, desperate times call for desperate measures. And I need that little pipsqueak off my hyung. Namjoon-sshi, I'm counting on you to grab their leashes and separate them before they totally devour my face, okay?”

 

“Wait, what?” Is all Namjoon manages to say before Jeongguk takes off in the direction of the dogs. And he watches in abject horror as all ten dogs suddenly surge up in an attempt to attack (and plausibly devour) the currently ham-scented Jeongguk.

 

“WAIT! NO! THAT’S A REALLY BAD IDEA—”

“AH! AH! OH MY GOD, JIN YOUR FINGERS. I THINK YOU'RE DRAWING BLOOD—”

“JEON JEONGGUK, YOU IDIOT. WHY ARE YOUR IDEAS SOMEHOW WORSE THAN TAEHYUNG’S? I SWEAR TO GOD—”

 

~*~

 

“Sorry.”

 

Namjoon looks up from where he'd applying antiseptic to a gash on his hand and realizes he's still not too exhausted to tease Yoongi. “What's this? The great genius Min Yoongi is actually apologizing to me? A mere mortal?”

 

“Shuddup.” Yoongi mumbles, but his eyes are trained on Namjoon’s hand, so Namjoon knows exactly what this is about. For how little he speaks about his feelings, Yoongi is surprisingly easy to read if you just put a little time and effort into figuring him out. “Just… sorry. Okay?”

 

“Yeah. I know.” Sure, having needed to untangled ten dogs while his hyung’s bare ass had been waving in front of his face hadn't been pleasant. And neither were the scratches he'd gotten for his troubles. But, “you've put me through worse shit. Still remember the time we got kicked out of three bars because you couldn't hold your tongue?”

 

“Not my fault three guys in three subsequent bars were being assholes who couldn't take a hint.”

 

“Yeah. And if you hadn't decked them yourself, Hobi would have drop-kicked them into the next century.” Namjoon shrugs, “but still. Three bars. And one of them still has pretty good happy hour deals.”

 

At this point, even Yoongi can tell Namjoon is shitting with him, and he snorts. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Sorry about that too, I guess.”

 

“Well, if you really wanna apologize. Why don't you help me write this verse for this girl group song I gotta hand in Mon— ow!”

 

“I will end you.” Yoongi says with all the menace of a grumpy kitten, and Namjoon smirks, picking up the balled-up piece of paper that had been thrown at him, knowing they're okay.

 

“...but really. Could you help me think of something that rhymes with ‘honey, honey, bun, bun’? Because— ow! Okay, okay! I was kidding! Stop!’

 

~*~

 

“Alright, so, everyone’s here? Great. Then we can start. So, it's been two weeks since all of us have started with babysitting—”

 

“Cockblocking.” Both Seokjin and Yoongi chorus at the same time.

 

“—our two lovely soulmates, Seokjin and Yoongi hyungdeul, who still apparently hate each other.” Hoseok says, easily ignoring the two as he breezily carries on. “So this meeting is sort of a meetup to discuss what happened through the weeks, tackle any problems we had and discuss and share ideas and tips on what we observed and think we can improve on. It would have been better to do a weekly thing, but we're all busy adults with a shit ton things to do, so bimonthly is probably the best we can do. Any questions at this point?”

 

Jimin slowly raises his hand.

 

“Yes, Jimin?”

 

“I thought we were all here because it's been two long-ass weeks and we all saw things that we wanna drown in the sweet oblivion of vodka?” Jimin gestures to the glass in his hand that Taehyung is generously topping up with the said vodka.

 

“That too. But also, sharing. Anyone wants to go first?”

 

Namjoon knocks back a whole shot before making an old man sort of noise. He looks about 30 years older than he actually is. “I've never seen so much naked ass in my whole life.”

 

“Amen.” Jeongguk mumbles before he too knocks back his drink.

 

Yoongi gives Jeongguk perturbed look. “Isn't he too young to drink?”

 

“I'm fucking 22 already, you ass. We literally first met in a club.”

 

“Jeongguk, settle down. He's not worth it.” Seokjin says tiredly. Hoseok thinks he sees Yoongi bristle before Seokjin even finishes his sentence.

 

“Excuse you, I am, too, worth it—”

 

“Oh my god. Can the two of you fucking shut up with your bickering already so we can get on with this stupid thing and start getting sloshed? It's your faults we're stuck in this mess, and we have to deal with it all week, so can you at least give us a couple hours of peace before we all go nuts and just leave you two to fuck and be done with it.” Jimin finally snaps, and it startles Seokjin so bad, he nearly drops his glass on the floor. And that's the thing about Park Jimin. He's normally so nice, it's actually terrifying when he gets angry, because you know that you've properly done fucked up.

 

Both Seokjin and Yoongi are silent for the longest moment, and after Jimin’s eyes harden for a bit, both shrug in tandem, before turning away from each other.

 

(“It's not just me, right?” Namjoon leans over to whisper to Jeongguk while the younger just stonily stares back at him. “They're always eerily in sync with each other aren't they?”)

 

Jimin stares them down for a while longer before he says, “thank you.” And because he still is Park Jimin, and irrevocably nice, he also says, “sorry I said we'd leave you to die. I didn't mean it.”

 

Yoongi makes a sort of characteristic grunt. But Seokjin is surprisingly quiet.

 

For a moment.

 

And then he says, “yeah. Sure. Didn't think you did. Now, let's go back to the part where everyone was praising my naked ass.”

 

There's a chorus of groans and protests that even Hoseok cannot quell (mostly because he's groaning as well). But Yoongi doesn't say anything, lips thinning as he stares contemplatively at Seokjin before looking over at Taehyung, and then at Jeongguk.

 

They're both joining in the protest, genuinely sounding like they don't see anything wrong. In fact, Jeongguk’s “ah, hyung!” is the loudest of the bunch.

 

Yoongi's frown deepens, but he doesn't say anything, only lifts up his shot glass to his lips and tries to pretend he hadn't noticed.

 

It's none of his business anyway. Hasn't been for a long, long while.