“fuck, i need to take off.” yoongi huffs, pushing his chair back and picking up his jacket. namjoon furrows his eyebrows, looking up to his friend in confusion.
“what’s up, hyung?”
“sana can’t pick byul up.” the older man explains, digging into his pockets to search for his car keys. he pats himself down, jittery. yoongi contemplates just running to school when the wall clock tells him he only has ten minutes until his daughter is supposed to be dismissed, before shaking the idea out of his head. he doesn’t want any of those standoffish parents looking down on him even more.
“hyung,” yoongi looks up from his search to meet namjoon’s amused expression. the younger man nods to his hand. “are you blind?”
“fuck you, my contacts aren’t in, you ass.” yoongi swears, suddenly feeling very stupid. he races out the door, mumbling a “farewell, motherfucker!” to his friend before running out to the basement and unlocking his car. he manages to get to the kindergarten with a minute to spare and gets out of his car, locking the door securely behind him before walking over to the pick-up area.
as his eyes flit past the crowd of perfectly-dressed mothers and au pairs, rolling his eyes back at a lady who gives him a once-over. yoongi fucking despises the snobbish parents whose eyes never really see past his sleeve of tattoos and his worn leather jacket, but he’s willing to endure them for his daughter’s education, no matter how costly it is.
suddenly, a torrent of children begin running out to the horde of adults, and yoongi’s too distracted looking for his own pig-tailed little girl to see the woman arranging everyone into a neat line, one of her hands occupied with carrying a tray of perfectly-arranged crayons. finally, he spots byul, who’s a good two inches smaller than everyone else and sticking out like a sore thumb with the pair of sparkly yellow converse jungkook helped her decorate last summer. his daughter is swinging hands with, holy shit, is that a boy? yoongi taps his foot against the hardwood floors impatiently until the kids in front of his daughter flit away and he’s met by the sight of yes, his precious little angel holding hands with a shaggy-haired boy with possibly the best gene pool he’s ever seen.
“jin-ah!” yoongi looks back to see a small woman wearing a, fucking hell is that chanel?, plaid jacket with matching trousers and a large pair of sunglasses call out. the boy smiles at byul charmingly before letting go of her hand and running towards his mother.
“appa!” a small pair of hands wrap around yoongi’s legs before he can really inspect the mother and son duo. he immediately breaks into a smile, dropping down to give his daughter a proper hug and kiss on the cheek, which makes her giggle in embarrassment. the sight of byul’s now-lopsided pigtails deliver an accurately-aimed pang to his heart. how was it that his daughter was the most adorable thing the world had ever seen? “where’s sana-unnie?” byul asked, her voice lisping cutely’.
“she had to go to school, baby. why, are you not happy to see appa?” yoongi mocked clutching his heart dramatically, making her laugh, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and he’s heard shin suran sing.
“of course, i’m happy to see appa! appa, appa, meet miss y/l/n!” byul then began to tug him towards the door, making him inwardly sigh in annoyance. great, yet another elderly woman telling him how to raise his own kid. imagine his surprise when his daughter stops in front of a young woman patting the head of a small boy.
honestly, the fact that the moment when yoongi locks eyes with you, you drop the entire tray of crayons, should have been a clear sign for him that approaching you was a bad idea.
you yelped in surprise when the tray hit the ground, before springing into action and picking up the small boy beside and placing him onto a table. you spot little min byulyi standing in front of the mess, and bright words screaming ‘safety hazard’ at you has you doing the same to her as well. only, when you straighten up, you’re almost chest-to-chest with one min yoongi.
“y/l/n y/n?” the blonde man says, and god if that doesn’t just make you want to curl up in the bright pink bean bag chair you kept in your classroom that hoseok dubbed the ‘crisis corner’.
“min yoongi?” you reply instead, willing yourself not to race into the nearest open classroom.
“i didn’t know you taught here.” yoongi comments, leaning against the wall. the action causes the collar of his white shirt to slip down, revealing a collarbone littered with blood-red roses. your breath hitches silently, and you’re momentarily distracted before-
“miss y/l/n, jaebum won’t stop pulling my hair!” byul whines from behind you. yoongi frowns.
“jaebum, what did i just tell you?” you whirled around, hands on your hips.
“we should tell people how we feel instead of using violence to do it.” the boy harrumphs, crossing his little hands in front of his striped shirt. he stumbles over the long words, making ‘violence’ seem like ‘violin’.
“what do you say to byulyi?”
“sorry.” jaebum faces yoongi’s daughter, who takes the apology in stride and initiates a hug, which makes your heart crumble just a little bit. you sigh happily, before turning to see yoongi, who was very much restraining himself from tackling a four year old.
“okay,” you clap your hands together, before dropping down to your knees to pick up the crayons, cursing your clumsy hands. “give me a second just to clean this up and i’ll bring you out to the front, jaebum.”
“one!” the boy immediately counts. “that’s a second already, miss!”
you roll your eyes fondly. “give me two minutes.” the boy continues counting, and byul joins in, making yoongi laugh. he drops down beside you, and you ignore the thudding in your chest when he begins helping you sort out the colours.
“i haven’t seen you around in a while, y/n-ah.” he murmurs silently.
“i just moved back actually.” you reply, willing yourself not to face him. “i replaced choi-ssaem. she’s on maternity leave, and i was switched over from the busan branch. thank god for that, busan’s a literal volcano ready to erupt. not to insult the place or anything! it’s great and there’s this really good tangsuyuk place from the old campus and wow, i’m rambling. sorry.” you felt yourself turning as red as the crayon now cradled in your left hand.
“noted.” yoongi laughed breathily from beside you, offering a handful of green crayons. “i’ll bring byul there the next time we go.”
“sorry.” you repeated, still avoiding his gaze. “how have you been?”
“besides the heathen?” he nods over to byul, who’s enthusiastically chirping out ‘forty-one! forty-two!’. you let out a giggle. “i’m doing great.”
“she’s great, by the way.” you say, finally meeting his eyes. they’re deep, and it’s like nothing’s changed since the last time you saw him. “byul. very well-mannered.”
“thank you.” yoongi replies, his gummy smile on show.
“must get it from hani-unnie.” your mood dampens slightly when you mention the girl who had a main role in breaking your heart.
“we separated, actually.” you look at yoongi in shock.
“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked! i just assumed, and i shouldn’t have. i’m really sorry, please don’t hate me.”
“hey,” yoongi stopped your rambling, with a hand on your wrist. a spark of electricity was reignited in you, and you reminded yourself that this was very much past high school, where min yoongi used to trapeze the halls with his basketball jersey and drive away from campus in his vintage mustang. “it’s fine.”
“sorry.” you said again, meekly, your hands unstopping from the task of arranging the crayons.
“hundred twenty!” byul said victoriously, jumping off the table. you reacted before you knew it, catching her instinctively before her little feet would reach the ground. you set her down on her feet, smiling at her little pout.
“min byulyi,” yoongi said from behind you. you laughed as the little girl’s pout deepened and yoongi’s previously reprimanding tone disappeared. “no jumping, angel.”
“fine! but it’s been two minutes! i want ice cream!”
“okay, you monster.” he picked up his daughter, shouldering her my little pony backpack and placing her on his hip. fuck if that didn’t make your heart melt. he turned to face you, his expression shining with happiness. “see you around, miss y/l/n. say bye, byul.” byul waved a chubby arm at you before kicking her dad in the stomach repeatedly to make him move. with one last smile, yoongi walked out of the corridor.
you took a deep breath before jumping up and down and squealing.
“miss, can i go?” you stopped, turning to meet little im jaebum’s judgemental gaze.
you recovered instantly, setting him on the ground and taking his right hand. “of course, jaebum.” god, min yoongi got hotter since high school.
“you’re kidding me!” hoseok guffawed from across your desk. you groaned, cradling your head in your hands. “that min yoongi is min byulyi’s dad?”
“stop laughing at me.” you ran a hand through your askew braid, and was wholly unsurprised when you were greeted by the sound of pink beads hitting the floor. “he’s so hot, fuck!”
“no swearing on campus, y/n.” taehyung sang from the doorway. “even for dads you have the hots for.”
“this is an exception, tae, trust me. if i could, i’d climb that man like a tree.” hobi laughed.
“pics or it didn’t happen.” tae took a seat beside hobi, and a phone screen was shoved in his hand. he whistled and passed your phone back to you. you let out another groan before smacking your head down on your desk. the sight of a pastel pink-haired min yoongi in a basketball jersey kissing a championship trophy often had that effect on you. “that’s min yoongi? as in min ‘you dated him to help him get back at his ex’ yoongi?”
“fake dated.” you corrected miserably before looking up at your friends’ bemused expressions. hobi pulled a stray piece of glued paper from your cheek and handed it to you. you flipped it over, breaking into a smile at the mess of popsicle sticks and pink glitter, signed by a squiggly blue marker reading ‘min byulyi’. you slumped over again.
“hey, buck up, y/l/n, here’s your chance!”
“what chance?” you asked, voice muffled by the desk. “hey, i fake dated you to make the now mother of your child jealous and you immediately broke it off with me the second she texted you? then you spent the rest of high school parading around with her hand in yours pretending you didn’t know me, thus making everyone know it was all fake! everything was fake!” you finally leaned back on your chair, wiping away your tears. hoseok handed you a tissue. “god, i’m pathetic. who even still has feelings for someone they had a crush on in high school?”
“i don’t know, if ahn hyejin told me she wanted to go out with me now, i’d say yes.” tae commented, making you sniffle.
“look, woman up! if min yoongi didn’t see what a perfect human you were in high school, go make him see it now!” hobi huffed, pointing one very slender finger at you. you gave him a scathing stare.
“i’m teaching his daughter how to count up to two hundred and colour within the lines, hobi. and the occasional shakespearean play because the curriculum makes me but still!”
“min byulyi knows how to count up to three hundred and colouring within the lines is limiting creative expression, sweetie.” taehyung said, leaning forward on his elbows. “and you, my sweet little girl next door, are going to show hottie ex-jock min yoongi that he was an idiot back in high school!”
“wait, he’s not with byul’s mom anymore?” hoseok pondered.
“hani moved out to seoul two years ago. hasn’t come back since, so i guess not.” you explained, knotting your fingers together. “but this is so stupid, why am i even considering this?”
“because you want to, okay? now let’s make you min yoongi’s biggest regret.”
“why’re you smiling so weirdly, hyung?” yoongi snapped out of his reverie to be met by the stare of a doe-eyed, long-haired jeon jungkook, who was leaning against the recording booth glass.
“let’s do that chorus again.” he said instead, coughing slightly when his voice was raspier than usual.
“we’ve done it six times, hyung.” jungkook whined, stomping his left foot. yoongi most definitely did not almost let out a long-suffering, adoring sigh. the boy was too much like byul for his own good. jungkook was the ‘next big thing’ in kpop, and yoongi was assigned to him around a year ago back when the kid was far too obviously staring at namjoon’s biceps like they held the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. not to say he didn’t do it anymore, he just did it far more subtly.
“and we can do it one more time.”
“does it have anything to do with you taking off before lunch?” the younger man asked. yoongi almost spit out the gulp of coffee he had just inhaled. “ha! so it does!”
“no, it doesn’t.” yoongi denied. “let’s do the chorus.”
“was there a hot single mom?” jungkook pushed, smiling goofily. “a hot teacher?” the younger man fist-pumped victoriously when yoongi turned a bright shade of red. “god, that’s the most cliche thing i’ve ever heard. i can’t believe you have a crush on your four year old’s kindergarten teacher, hyung.”
“i don’t have a crush on her. she’s just,” yoongi thought of a word. “cute.”
“cute?” jungkook snorted in disbelief. “please never use that word unless it’s to characterise your daughter.”
“shut up, jeon.”
“so what’s she like?”
“it’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“we need to finish the bridge and the last verse, actually.” yoongi noted.
“did you meet her while she was ushering byul out of school?” jungkook insisted, getting out of the recording booth and sitting on the rolling chair opposite of the older man. “holy shit, you did.”
“i met her in high school, you little shit.” yoongi answered, rubbing his forehead with his hand. he knew evading the younger man’s questions would just make him pry even more.
“you went to high school together?” jungkook exclaimed, tilting his head back in laughter. “let me guess, you were hopelessly in love with her and she never gave you the time of day?”
“you know i met hani in high school, kook.” yoongi sighed.
“so, what? you two barely knew each other?”
“i dated her for a while.” he admitted, preparing himself for jungkook’s reaction. he was not disappointed. the younger man exploded in voracious laughter.
“what’s up?” yoongi groaned when the door to the studio opened. namjoon walked into the room, and sat beside jungkook, who smiled at him momentarily before returning to the issue at hand.
“don’t say a word, jeon.” the blonde man warned. jungkook paid him no mind.
“yoongi dated byul’s kindergarten teacher in high school!”
“you mean y/l/n y/n?” namjoon asked. he, too, had gone to high school with you and yoongi. “i thought you guys weren’t actually a thing.”
“we weren’t. it’s complicated, okay?”
“what, you pretended that you were together to make hani-noona jealous?” jungkook guffawed, leaning back so much on his chair yoongi was afraid he would topple over, not that he’d mind.
“holy shit, hyung, seriously? i thought you two were for real! you were a lot happier with her than with hani-noona and it was all fake?” namjoon frowned.
“yes, and now she’s teaching my four year old about plant life cycles using macaroni drawings. this is the world getting back at me.” yoongi groaned.
“and you like, actually like her now?”
“hyung thinks she’s ‘cute’.” jungkook made air quotations, and joon burst out in laughter, slapping his knee.
“you have a crush on byul’s teacher!”
“i do not!”
“sure, hyung. that was why you couldn’t stop smiling when you walked in. i haven’t seen you that happy since the time byul’s crush tripped over his own shoelaces.”
“don’t remind me about that little devil. speaking of which, i saw byul holding hands with another boy today.” yoongi said, desperate to change the subject.
“so, what’re you going to do about y/n?” namjoon didn’t fall for it one bit.
“what do you mean what am i going to do? i’m not going to do anything.”
“and let her slip through your fingers?”
“she was never mine to begin with, asshole.”
“you’re just as blind as you were in high school, hyung.” namjoon sighed, before twirling around in his chair. “kook, let’s do the chorus.”
“okay!” the twenty-one year old chirped, bouncing up from his chair without complaint. yoongi rolled his eyes.
“i get no respect around here.”