There’s only one vacant seat in the lounge’s bar when Seokjin walks in. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” He asks in English. The guy sitting on the left side is the only one who deigns to reply. “No, go ahead.” Seokjin is a bit taken aback by the man’s deep voice—and his English accent is cute too. Seokjin wonders where he is from; he definitely has an Asian face, but he can’t dare to judge a book by its cover. Well, at least he’s finally sitting down and not sweating or trying to make himself understood in his broken English. He orders a glass of scotch, “on the rocks,” he says, and feels like his father. He doesn’t like it that much. The drink is procured. At last the universe is working in his favour.
He takes a sip of his drink and makes an appreciative noise—an unconscious thing—that seems to interest the guy on his right. But it’s the guy on his left the one who speaks. “Bad day, huh?” Seokjin likes his voice, he sneaks a glance at him and, well, the voice doesn’t match the face at all; this guy’s cute. He has lovely features and his hair is a deep shade of ash brown that makes him look soft and pretty.
“You have no idea,” Seokjin replies. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the guy take a sip of his own drink, scotch on the rocks, like Seokjin’s. Perhaps he’s not the only one who’s had a bad day. “I lost my flight because the airline people let a guy who has my same name get on the plane instead.”
The guy laughs, or at least Seokjin thinks that the sound that came out of him was laughter. It’s hard to tell with all the noise around and the quietness and deepness of the guy’s voice. “Wow, that sucks,” he says. “But how can they mistake you for someone else, I mean...” he stops; he speaks slowly, as if he has to translate what he wants to say in his head before he speaks. It’s cute. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. Even if your names are the same, you’re entirely different people.”
“Yeah, well. It’s the story of my life,” Seokjin says. “Weird shit is always happening to me. I’ve just learned to live with the bullshit.”
As he finishes saying this the guy on his right stands up and manages to knock Seokjin’s drink. “Sorry,” the man says. He’s tall and lanky, and by the way he’s swaying a little, he seems to be a bit drunk. “Our eyes met and I got distracted by how hot you are.” Seokjin gags, internally, and curses under his breath in Korean. To the man, he says, “Don’t worry about it, please go on, I don’t want to keep you.”
The man scoffs. “Whatever. You’re not even that hot.” Seokjin’s about to reply, but then the cute guy is handing him paper napkins. “Here,” he says to Seokjin, and proceeds to stare the other man down. “I thought you were going.” The man points at them and laughs, “yeah, okay. I see how it is,” he says.
A security man appears, but the jerk is already on his way. He asks Seokjin if everything’s okay, and Seokjin just nods. He’s so angry and embarrassed, and he’s mortified that the cute guy he was trying to impress had to witness that scene.
“Sorry,” Seokjin tells him. “Thank you, for the napkins.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the guy says. “Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned, and for that Seokjin is grateful.
Seokjin realises they’re speaking Korean. The guy doesn’t have an foreign accent, only a slight hint of satoori. “Yeah, I told you shit happens to me all the time.” He tries to dry his trousers with the paper napkins, but they’re not good quality and he’s afraid they’ll leave weird stains in his expensive suit slacks. Also, as much as Seokjin doesn’t really mind having food or drink stains on his clothes (but never on his face), he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his flights smelling like a drunken man.
“Sorry to be asking this of you, but can you keep an eye on my stuff while I go to the bathroom to change?” Seokjin still feels humiliated, but after all that’s happened to him today, he doesn’t want to leave his suitcase unattended.
The guy looks him up and down, a smirk on his face. “Was all this a scheme to leave me a suitcase full of drugs?”
“What? Of course not. I’m offended you’d think I’d team up with some gross white man,” Seokjin says a little too loud, he realises some people are already staring so he tries to lower his voice. “Look, my name is Kim Seokjin and I’m Korean.” He gets his passport out of his inside pocket. “Here’s my passport. I just... I need to change. I feel gross walking around smelling like cheap whisky.”
The guy stares at the passport with Seokjin’s picture on it. Seokjin’s proud of the picture, if you ask him. “Yeah, okay.” He says, much to Seokjin’s surprise.
“Look, you can go with me to the bathroom, I’m just... I’m sorry to be asking this of you, but I can’t trust no one else.” Seokjin puts his passport back into his pocket and takes his wallet out instead, procures a couple of bills that he leaves on the counter, to pay for his drink.
“No worries,” the guy says and then proceeds to finish his drink in one big gulp. Giving the circumstances, Seokjin shouldn’t be having this kind of thoughts, but his brain screams, “Hot!”
“Thank you,” he says, trying to sound as grateful as he is. He doesn’t think he’d have the stomach to finish his scotch in one shot, so he takes another sip as he waits for the cute guy to stand up so they can head to the nearest bathroom.
Once the guy is standing next to him, Seokjin realises he’s on the short side and that it makes him look even cuter. “You know, I didn’t really believe your story earlier. I thought you wanted to, I don’t know, pick me up or something,” he says.
Seokjin feels his ears getting hot because that was sort of exactly the thing Seokjin was doing. He’s so out of his league. This guy’s probably asked out on a daily basis. He sits wherever and people look at him and want to take him home. Seokjin being one of those people. Still, he says, “Or leave you with a suitcase full of drugs.”
The guy smiles, he has a lovely gummy smile with little even teeth, and seriously, that’s just too cute for Seokjin’s weak heart. “Yeah, or that.”
Soon they find an empty bathroom and Seokjin opens his suitcase on the floor to take out his trousers—which are, sadly, a bit too high and make him feel a bit uncomfortable around the crotch area. But he’ll take what he can get. He feels awkward, there, crouching down on an airport bathroom floor, with his suitcase open, showing all his neatly packed stuff. His comfortable pillow is there, and so is the alpaca plushy he cuddles to sleep. So he starts talking to hide his discomfort. “So are you Korean, too? I realised I don’t even know your name and you already know so much about me.”
“I already know you carry an extra pair of expensive suit trousers,” he says, not answering Seokjin’s question.
“Look, don’t judge.” Fine, if he doesn’t want to tell Seokjin his name, that’s okay. Seokjin can’t really blame him, if he were in his shoes he probably wouldn’t have dared follow him to the bathroom. He doesn’t owe Seokjin anything. And where the fuck are his stupid trousers? “I already feel vulnerable in front of you.”
“That guy was an asshole though,” the guy says. Seokjin stills, and for a second he feels like crying. It’s stupid, he knows it wasn’t his fault, but he’s learned to blame himself and his shitty luck for the crap that happens to him. He wasn’t expecting this guy to be so nice and sympathetic, and for that Seokjin’s immensely grateful. “I’m Min Yoongi.”
Min Yoongi. That’s a pretty name, Seokjin thinks. It suits him. At last he finds his trousers buried under his pink pyjamas that he wishes Min Yoongi didn’t see. “Nice to meet you, Min Yoongi.” He stands up in a lame attempt to hide the pyjamas from Yoongi’s view.
“Nice pjs,” Yoongi says, that adorable gummy smile plastered on his pretty face. And seriously, can the universe give Seokjin a fucking break?
Seokjin chuckles uncomfortably and gets into a stall, his ears are burning hot and he's lost his cool so many times on this particular day and in front of a man he sorts of wanted to maybe impress nonetheless. His life's a tragedy. Perhaps he could write a book about his misfortunes. He suddenly realises it's eerily quiet in the bathroom, perhaps Min Yoongi took his expensive suitcase with his cute pjs and ran away with them. He's not even out of his ruined trousers yet, he can't go out and check.
"Are you still there?" He asks awkwardly. Part of himself wishes Yoongi'd ran away with his stuff, if it only meant Seokjin'd forget this entire day ever happened.
"Where will I go?" Asks Yoongi back. Why is he always replying to his questions with another question?
Seokjin's struggling with the clean trousers, they're an unpleasant fit, not as uncomfortable as he had imagined, but they're too tight in weird places. At the lack of Seokjin's response, Yoongi goes on.
"Wait, did you think I’d run away with your pyjamas and your plushy or something?" There's amusement in his voice. It's weird that Seokjin can pinpoint that; they just met.
"No." Seokjin says and realises he sounded high-pitched and fake.
Yoongi laughs then. It's a light chuckle, but it's there. Seokjin's dying to see it, but damn these trousers.
"This reminds of that time a lady projectile vomited on my trousers as I was walking out of the bathroom," Seokjin says as he gets out and walks to the mirror to check himself. "I could see she had eaten sushi, perhaps the raw fish didn't agree with her." It was another episode of his life he tells people to sort of break the ice. He's weird like that. But that allows him to sort out people's characters, the interesting ones are always the ones who laugh. He wishes Yoongi'd be one of them.
Except Yoongi's been silent for too long. The trousers don't look as awful as Seokjin thought. They're indeed a bit weird fitting, especially in the crotch area, but they don't look that bad.
"Min Yoongi-sshi?" Seokjin turns away to find Yoongi looking at him, his mouth is slightly opened and he looks a bit perplexed. Perhaps he saw a ghost? Seokjin hates ghosts.
Yoongi looks away and clears his throat. "Yeah... tough luck," he says in a deep voice that has Seokjin's insides doing weird things.
Seokjin didn't think Yoongi would come along when he mentioned he was thinking about going to grab some food, but here they are. All of the airport lounges look the same to Seokjin; they feel the same, too, but having Yoongi next to him is oddly comforting.
They find an empty table with two seats. A waiter greets them as soon as they're seated; Seokjin gets excited and orders way too much food. Yoongi looks at him with raised eyebrows, but Seokjin shrugs and says, "I have a big appetite."
Yoongi, Seokjin realises, is the quiet type. Seokjin tried to make small talk while they looked for empty seats, but it was awkward, and even though Yoongi didn't sound particularly boring or rude, he didn't follow up on the conversation. Seokjin doesn't mind though. Usually, he feels like he's putting on a show, that he has to entertain people; it's a curse, but it's part of his job. It's ingrained in him by now. With Yoongi though, Seokjin thinks that he doesn't have to put an act, to play a part.
They just met, but Seokjin feels at ease.
While waiting, Yoongi looks at his phone so Seokjin does the same. He has several messages, most of them from his assistant, probably to remind him of his flight schedules. Seokjin opens the chat and quickly types his new arrival time so that he knows about the change. Lucky for him, his assistant doesn’t pry. Seokjin trusts him to pick him up when he lands. Now after deleting a couple of spam emails, Seokjin is left with nothing else to do. He randomly opens his selca app to check himself out, but instead the camera shows Yoongi in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on whatever is on his screen. He looks adorable, Seokjin fights against himself and closes the app without having taken any creepy pictures.
When the buzzer finally goes off, Seokjin’s glad for the distraction. He returns with two trays of food, only half of one is Yoongi’s.
He makes a delighted noise at the taste of the dan dan mian, Seokjin’s favourite dish from this lounge, and when he looks up Yoongi’s staring at him with a shy smile. Seokjin almost chokes on the noodles, but he’s a pro at having big chunks of food in his mouth so he takes a sip of water to help him swallow and asks, ears burning hot, “What?”
Yoongi looks away, chuckling softly. “You really like food, don’t you?”
“That, I do,” says Seokjin. He picks up a baozi, but puts it down again when he realises it’s too big to fit in his mouth.
“Come here often?” Yoongi asks, not looking at Seokjin. He eats methodically, like it’s a chore. Seokjin’d usually be turned off by this, but he finds that he doesn’t mind with Yoongi. “I mean, you knew what to order without looking at the menu.”
“I do,” Seokjin says between a mouthful of baozi. “I have to travel a lot, for work.” He ponders about what to say about his work that doesn’t include mentioning he’s the CEO of the company. “I work for a company that exports strawberries.” He’s not lying. Technically, it’s not Seokjin’s company, but his father’s. “What about you, Min Yoongi-sshi?”
“Just Yoongi’s fine,” Yoongi says. He’s done eating all of his food now, but he’s still avoiding Seokjin’s eyes. “I, uhm... I’m a music producer. I produce music. Some company from Australia contacted me to talk business.”
“That’s... Wow... That’s impressive. A music producer,” says Seokjin, awed. Realising belatedly that he sounds like an idiot.
But then Yoongi’s smiling, hiding his mouth behind his hand and looking away from Seokjin, shyly. His cheeks have turned the softest shade of pink, Yoongi’s so pale it looks so lovely on him. Seokjin’s enamoured. Yoongi mutters something that sounds like, “it’s not that big of a deal.” But the thumping on Seokjin’s heart is too loud for him to hear anything else. He’s not expecting Yoongi to follow on the conversation, but when he speaks again Seokjin almost chokes on the last bit of baozi. “What’s the name of the strawberry company? Is it a big one like Joy Farm?”
“No, not a big one,” Seokjin says. “It’s just a small family business.”
“It must be big if they’re able to fly their employees on business class.” Yoongi finished eating a while ago, he ate so little, compared to Seokjin. So now he’s only interrogating Seokjin and watching him eat, which is making Seokjin’s ears burn and his heart beat erratically. Yoongi chuckles a bit. Is he enjoying this? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You just… your face is all red. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Luckily, Seokjin’s mouth is still full of food, so he doesn’t get to say, “Do I look cute?” He thinks that’d make Yoongi embarrassed and then he’d go silent again.
“It’s called Berrylicious,” says Seokjin. “And well, I’m actually the boss so I get to pick how I flight.”
Seokjin doesn't really like to brag about him being the CEO of a company, but the look on Yoongi's face is worth it. "You're the boss?" He asks, his pretty eyes get big and his lovely mouth is hanging open. "Wait, you're the CEO?"
"That, I am," says Seokjin. Then he realises he sounds like some douche who brags to impress the people they want to bang. Not that he wants to bang Yoongi. He’d rather hold hands first and kiss his cute nose. "I mean, technically it's my father's company. He did all the work. All I did was be born into his family."
"Sure," Yoongi says, regaining his composure. He crosses his arms, leaving his phone on the table. Seokjin counts that as a win, Yoongi seems interested now. "But wait, do CEOs fly alone to business meetings? I thought they liked to have their entourage with them or at least a secretary or something.”
“Well, I don’t really know how CEOs do it.” Seokjin’s done eating so he starts collecting the empty dishes into a pile so that it’s easier to carry the tray back to the counter. “I always hated when my dad took me on his trips because even though he was my dad, he was also my boss. I don’t want to put any of my employees through that awkward and horrible situation.” When all the dishes are arranged into one neat pile, Seokjin looks up and realises Yoongi’s staring at him with a look he can’t pinpoint, though he’s sure he’s seen it before. Maybe he has food in his teeth. Oh well. “Plus travelling with more people would mean spending company money, and I’d rather not do that. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself. Really, it’s a win win situation. The employees get to rest from seeing me every day and I get to eat premium food.”
Yoongi’s silent for a while, which makes Seokjin embarrassed. He’s said too much. He got too comfortable and rambled on and on about how hard it is to own a company. “That’s… impressive, actually,” Yoongi says, and then there’s a small smile on his face. Seokjin’s instantly smitten; his face burns. Of course, Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Your face is all red again,” he says. The smile grows and Seokjin swears he’d sell his soul to the devil if only to get the chance to hold Yoongi’s hand and put his hand on that lovely cheek of his.
"I'm this way," says Yoongi, pointing to where gates 2 to 7 are. Seokjin takes out his passport and his boarding pass from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Gate 4.
"I'm that way, too," he says. "Gate 4."
"Wait, Gate 4? Layover in Hong Kong? That's my flight."
"Oh," Seokjin says like a moron. His heart is beating like crazy inside his rib cage; he feels it beating in his ears, making them go pink, he's sure. Damn them. Seokjin has never believed in fate, destiny, whatever they name it, but right now, with Yoongi looking curiously at him, he has to wonder. "I guess we're destined to be?"
And Yoongi, bless his heart, giggles at that. He hides it behind his hand, as if he can't believe Seokjin just said something so corny and ridiculous. But Seokjin can see the way Yoongi's pretty eyes crinkle as he smiles. It makes Seokjin want to touch, badly. It's so ridiculous. They're both grown men standing on an airport hallway, staring at each other like idiots.
"I'll be damned," Yoongi says after an eternity.
The first flight is quick. Seokjin spends the entire time going through the contract he signed. Yoongi's some seats behind, probably sleeping. Seokjin's curious, but not so curious as to act like a stalker. Yoongi made it clear he wanted to be left alone when they got into the plane. After Seokjin found his seat, close to the door, Yoongi said goodbye and went on his way at the back.
The layover is short.
Seokjin spends his time looking around the shops. He fell asleep right before they landed, so when the flight attendant woke him up, he was the only one left on the plane. He's sure he's going to remember that embarrassing moment when he's old and wrinkly. But most of all, he regrets not being able to see Yoongi one last time.
He stops at a toys and games shop and remembers he didn't buy Namjoon anything. He goes inside to ask if they have any of the character toys Namjoon collects and is surprised when he finds Yoongi inside. He's sure he has a stupid smile on his face, but Yoongi smiles back at him from across the room. It's soft and lovely, that smile of his, and Seokjin's entire body melts.
"Fancy meeting you here," Seokjin says. He walks to where Yoongi's holding one ugly looking pushy. It's pink, with weird cheeks and dead eyes. They stand next to each other, looking at the toys displayed. "I didn't peg you as toy guy."
"What did Seokjin-sshi peg me as?" Is Yoongi flirting? He sounds like he's flirting. Seokjin can flirt back, right?
"Just Seokjin's fine," he says, trying to sound as cool as Yoongi had when he said it earlier, but he's sure he ended up sounding awkward and slightly stalkerish. Oh well. "Wait, no. What year were you born?"
Yoongi doesn't skip a beat. "1993."
"Well, then I'm older than you. I was born in 1992. You can call me hyung."
Yoongi smirks. He doesn’t reply, which Seokjin finds rude, but it also turns him on a little. Everything about Yoongi is a thing of wonder. “So what brings you to this toy shop, are you a toy guy, hyung?” The honorific sounds extremely disrespectful, but it turns on Seokjin even more somehow. He’s both aroused and a bit annoyed.
“I’m buying a souvenir for someone,” says Seokjin, nonchalant. “I promised.” Something in Yoongi’s face shifts for a split second and then it’s gone; Seokjin wouldn’t have noticed if they weren’t standing so close to each other. Do guys normally stand this close to other guys? Seokjin wished he were a bit more social so he had noticed things like this.
“Oh,” Yoongi replies. He has the smug face back on, like he’s not interested. But Seokjin can see it somehow, in the way Yoongi tensed for a bit. He cares. A lot, maybe. At least Seokjin wants him to. He wants Yoongi to care about Seokjin’s romantic status. “Well, I’m also buying something for someone. I’m not a toy guy either.”
Yoongi’s nose scrunched up the tiniest bit as he said that last bit. Seokjin watches, fascinated. They’re standing so close he can smell Yoongi’s sweat, his shampoo. He takes a deep, silent breath. It smells so good his knees go weak. Is he making someone up so that he can make Seokjin jealous, too?
“Yeah, my friend’s this giant nerd,” Seokjin says. He gets even closer to Yoongi and can feel his body heat when his shoulder bumps Seokjin’s upper arm. He can’t stop staring at Yoongi’s face. He knows it’s obvious because they’re not face to face, Seokjin has to turn his face to actually see Yoongi, but he doesn’t care. Yoongi’s so pale, his skin is unblemished, and Seokjin wonders why he’s wearing a mask if he’s not going to cover his mouth and nose with it. But then again, he doesn’t want Yoongi to cover any part of his face, he’d miss watching it.
Yoongi looks constipated when he turns to shoot a judgmental look at Seokjin. But he can see Yoongi’s trying really hard not to smile and that he’s failing. It makes Seokjin’s heart all warm and fuzzy. “Does your friend know you badmouth him like this, hyung? With strangers, on top of that?”
“Yeah, I say it to his face all the time.”
The smile is too powerful this time, Yoongi has to cover it with the back of his hand as he turns away from Seokjin. Yoongi’s neck looks smooth, and it’s the loveliest shade of pink. Seokjin’s fingers itch. He wants to touch. So he does the reasonable thing and puts his hands inside his trousers’ pockets, which ends up being a bit uncomfortable, what with it being so tight.
“What about your friend?” Seokjin asks. “Is she pretty?” He wishes Yoongi’d face him so he could see how he flutters his eyelashes. So much for being cool and smooth.
“He is,” Yoongi says, voice solemn. Now it’s Seokjin’s face that falls.
“Oh.” He saw how Yoongi’s face changed when he said those two words, so he steps away from Yoongi, trying to put some distance between each other. If he keeps smelling Yoongi’s scent he fears he’s going to cry. It’s stupid. They just met. But Seokjin thought; he hoped. Just like he always does. Seokjin’s always thinking and hoping. All he knows right now is that he has to get away before he evaporates or crumples in front of Yoongi.
But then he feels Yoongi’s shoulder bump his upper arm softly. “I don’t go around badmouthing my friends like other people,” Yoongi says.
Seokjin doesn’t know what to do or say. He hears someone say, “oh,” then realises it was him. “Oh,” he repeats like a love fool.
“Hyung, you’re... you’re all red again,” Yoongi says. And this time, when he said the honorific Seokjin sucked in air because how can someone calling him make him feel like this? There’s a lot of emotions on Yoongi’s face, Seokjin has no idea what kind they are, but something tells him it’s affection, tenderness, fondness. He doesn’t know what to do. His entire body might combust, the way it’s getting so warm. He can feel his entire face burning. Yoongi’s smiling again. He’s looking at Seokjin and smiling, and all Seokjin can do is stare back in disbelief.
Before Seokjin perishes, a girl wearing a t-shirt with the shop’s logo approaches them and asks them, in English, if she can help them with anything.
“I think we’re good,” Yoongi replies in English without turning away from Seokjin. They’re still so close. Seokjin’s lucky his hands are in his pockets, otherwise he’d do something crazy like put them on Yoongi’s chest, caress his cheek, gently touch the cute mole he has on his nose. “You need anything, hyung?” He asks in Korean.
There it is again, Yoongi’s voice doing that thing when he calls Seokjin ‘hyung.’ “Uhm... no,” Seokjin mutters, somehow. He looks at the girl and realises she’s staring at Yoongi and not at him. “Right?” He wants to asks her. “Isn’t he the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen’” But all he says is, “thanks.”
“Please let me know if there’s anything you need,” the girl says. She’s still staring at Yoongi, though Seokjin can feel Yoongi still staring at him. His whole face burns, maybe it’s on fire? And that’s why Yoongi can’t stop staring?
“That girl was totally into you,” Seokjin whispers in Korean. He’s found a shelf full of Sailor Moon toys and is very focused on picking up the ugliest one for Namjoon. He’s totally not focused on Yoongi’s long fingers and is not thinking about how his voice changes when he speaks in English.
“Was she?” Yoongi says. “I didn’t notice.” Even if Seokjin can’t see where Yoongi is, his body is very aware he’s close.
“She was.” Seokjin is currently trying to pick between two Sailor Moon dolls; one has a crooked eye and the other one looks like it’s a different character in Sailor Moon cosplay. “Which one’s the ugliest?” He turns around, asking for Yoongi’s opinion, not knowing Yoongi was already behind him. They’re close, so impossibly close. Seokjin holds the dolls tight to stop his hands from touching Yoongi.
“Fuck, sorry,” Seokjin says at the same time Yoongi starts laughing. Not chuckling, but laughing. Seokjin’s heart is doing somersaults inside his chest.
“You’re a mess, hyung. I’m going to pay,” Yoongi declares. Seokjin stares at his retreating back like an idiot. He decides to buy both dolls for Namjoon. They’re lucky dolls; they helped Seokjin make Yoongi laugh.
When he’s at the counter he sees Yoongi waiting for him at the entrance. There are some Moomin keychains by the counter. They’re cute, not ugly like the dolls he picked for Namjoon. Seokjin remembers he used to read Moomin books when he was little and decides to buy a keychain for Yoongi.
“This is for you,” says Seokjin when he walks out of the shop.
“What’s this?” Yoongi asks as he opens the package. He scoffs when he sees the keychain. “Is buying ugly things your kink or something?”
“Rude,” Seokjin says. “First of all, I’m going to ignore you insulted Moomin. And no, I don’t have a buying ugly dolls kink. I just thought... I mean, it’s just a little something to remind you of me.”
“It’s ridiculous, is what it is,” Yoongi says, but his eyes have turned into crescents and he’s attaching the keyring to his bag.
“Are we on the same flight again?” Yoongi asks as they walk around the airport. There are some shops Seokjin’s curious to go into, but he wants to spend as much time with Yoongi as he can, so he ends up following him to all the tech shops. He knows absolutely nothing about music equipment, but he really likes to listen to Yoongi explaining the things he’s interested in.
“Gate 70?” Seokjin asks. “I’m going home to Seoul. You?”
“Yeah, same flight again,” says Yoongi.
“Wait, it says boarding time is 9:10 a.m.”
Yoongi pushes his jacket up to look at his wrist watch, it’s not as expensive as Seokjin’s but it looks nice in Yoongi’s wrist. His wrist, in general, looks really nice, smooth, and his skin is so pale it’s almost transparent. “Well, fuck. It’s 9:00 right now.”
Seokjin watches around him, they’re currently in gate 22, too far from their gate to get there on time if they walk. “I’ll race you,” he says, and doesn’t wait for Yoongi to reply before he’s sprinting.
“Fuck you!” He hears Yoongi yell from behind him.
Yoongi catches up to Seokjin quite quickly. It’s unbearably hot, how he’s so small and so fast, but Seokjin’s not thinking about it right now. He’s definitely not thinking about it at all. “Underestimated me, didn’t you, hyung?” He says as Seokjin spots Gate 70 in front of them.
“Never,” Seokjin says almost out of breath, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the race or because of Yoongi.
They make it in time. When they get to the gate, panting and sweaty—Seokjin does not want to think about how Yoongi sounds when he’s short winded—economy class is boarding.
This time, Yoongi has a window seat and Seokjin has an aisle one. Yoongi’s further in the back again, but Seokjin manages to creep out the person who’s on the other end of his aisle seat and convinces him to change seats with Yoongi.
“What the fuck, hyung?” Yoongi says as he stands in front of Seokjin, staring him down. He looks a bit annoyed, Seokjin’s a bit scared and turned on. He feels like a horny teenager.
“How can you just stand there looking like that, Yoongi-yah?” Seokjin asks because, seriously how can he?
Much to Seokjin’s surprise, Yoongi blushes. It’s lovely, Seokjin is not a painter, has never been. He took a painting class back when he was in college and he needed easy credits, and his professor only gave him a passing note because Seokjin was never late or absent to class. But he wants to go back to that class if only to be able to mix the colour of Yoongi’s blush. He’d call it something ridiculous and embarrassing like temptation.
“Ugh, shut up,” Yoongi manages to say despite his blush. He walks to the other side of the aisle and starts arranging his things. The Moomin keyring hangs from his bag. Seokjin’s heart grows 30 sizes.
“I’m being serious,” Seokjin says, abashed. He really is. He’s been falling in love with Yoongi—albeit ungraciously—since the moment he first saw him.
Yoongi’s quiet in the flight, but that’s okay because Seokjin’s quiet, too. They find a movie to watch on their respective screens, and Seokjin finds Yoongi sleeping soon after it starts. Seokjin stares at Yoongi’s sleeping figure, it’s a bit uncomfortable to stare at him from his seat, but Seokjin’s putting his long torso to good use. His heart is doing weird things, like hoping. Is he allowed to hope? Can he keep Yoongi? He doesn’t even know if Yoongi’s taken. For all he knows, Yoongi can just be flirting in a friendly way. Seokjin’s not an expert on love, he’s never really being so infatuated with someone before, and after meeting Yoongi, he’s not even sure if he’s ever fallen in love before.
Seokjin falls asleep right after and when he wakes up, Yoongi’s already up and eating.
“Good morning, hyung,” he says in a low sleepy voice. His hair is a bit messy and he looks like a dream. It’s so domestic and perfect. If Seokjin were one of those romantic people who dreams about prince charmings and whatnot, he thinks Yoongi’d fit perfectly into his idea of a perfect man.
This realisation has him momentarily speechless. He mutters a, “good morning,” and an “I’m hangry.” And Yoongi laughs. Seokjin wants to dedicate the rest of his life to saying lame jokes just to make Yoongi laugh. His brain is still half-asleep so he gets busy ordering food to distract himself from looking at soft sleepy Yoongi. “The fish is really good, hyung,” he says. His voice is so impossibly low. He looks like one of those kitties Seokjin’s always been too scared to pet; he’s terrified at being hissed.
The sunlight coming from the window makes Yoongi’s face look so ethereal, so much for distracting himself and not staring. In all honesty, in all of Seokjin’s years at being alive, Yoongi must be the most beautiful human being he has ever met. He’s definitely the first guy Seokjin’s been truly attracted to upon meeting him. It was not so much as love at first sight, but more like recognising a kindred spirit. Seokjin once read about humans being united with their other half in ancient times, but Zeus—god of sky and thunder—split them apart out of fear and jealousy. He remembers reading that meeting your other half—your soulmate—was like walking into a familiar place, like recognising all the furniture and being able to find your way even in the dark. Meeting Yoongi was like that. The more time they spend together the more his soul says, “he’s Him.”
Seokjin’s forced out of his thoughts when Yoongi, who’s probably nervous now that they’re soon going to land in Seoul, speaks. It’s always easier to spill your guts to some random stranger than to someone you know.
“You know, I don’t really know if I’m going to go through with the producing thing in Australia,” he says. Seokjin gives him his full attention. Yoongi chuckles a bit, looks at the floor, a sign he’s dead serious and nervous. “As much as I’d love to get into that market, I don’t want to be known for producing popular shit without essence.”
“Is that what they want you to produce? Popular shit without essence? How shameful of them, should I teach them a lesson?” Seokjin jokes because he’s an idiot who hates when things get too serious.
Except it seems like it’s exactly what Yoongi needed to hear because he finally meets Seokjin’s eye and he’s smiling in a way that makes Seokjin’s stomach churn.
“I want to matter,” says Yoongi with finality. Seokjin could kiss him because that’s exactly what he wants, too. He doesn’t want to be just someone who’s filling in his father’s shoes. He wants to matter. Yoongi keeps going, “I’ve worked so hard to get my own studio and release my first mixtape.”
“That’s honestly amazing,” Seokjin says. Yoongi looks at the floor again, but this time there’s a tiny smile curving his lips upwards. Seokjin wants to kiss him, badly. “You’re probably the coolest person I’ve ever met. Do you have a stage name or do you go by your real name?”
“Agust D,” Yoongi says to the floor.
Seokjin chokes on his food. “Agust D? The badass Daegu dude?”
“Have you heard?” Yoongi asks, he’s looking at Seokjin now, his voice low and his eyes hopeful. Seokjin makes a wishlist in his head of things he wants to do upon landing. The first one on the list is kiss Yoongi. The second one is get a vacation. A real one.
“I...” Seokjin’s baffled. “Yeah, my friend. The nerd one I bought the ugly dolls for, he’s my childhood friend and he’s obsessed with your music.” He’s talking so fast, he has a lot to say and not enough time. “For the longest time he’s been telling me to listen to your music; he’s talked so much about you. I can’t believe it, seriously.”
Yoongi’s staring at him again with that look he had at the toy shop. There are so many emotions in his eyes, Seokjin can get lost in them. Would very much like to get lost in them. “And did you listen?”
“I did,” Seokjin says. The seatbelt sign turns on and the flight attendants start walking the aisles, making sure the overhead compartments are secured. “Late at night at my office. I opened the link Namjoon sent me and had a good cathartic cry while listening to your angry sad rap.” If it were someone else, Seokjin’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have said the last part. He’d cried out of stress and frustration. He had screwed up a presentation; the clients wouldn’t sign the contract. His father had to intervene. “This is your future, son. You have to take it seriously,” he said. Except Seokjin had taken it seriously. He’d worked his ass off. Was this what he really wanted to do for the rest of his life? He had an acting minor; he’d always wanted to be in the news. When he was little, he dreamed of being the weatherman.
“I listen to it whenever I have a bad day and need to vent off,” Seokjin says as the captain announces they’ll be landing shortly. “It soothes me. You are some powerful man, Min Yoongi. Your music has the ability to soothe me.”
Yoongi’s lovely mouth is hanging open, as if disbelief. “I... wow. That...” he’s so flustered, it’s too cute. Seokjin writes number three on his wish list: make Yoongi flustered more often. “That means a lot, hyung. Really.”
They’re landing. Seokjin can feel it in his stomach, but he doesn’t stop looking at Yoongi’s face. He wants to commit it to memory. He’s going to miss seeing it.
They both want to matter. Seokjin remembers a poem, suddenly, one of his favourites. He recites it from memory, “we all long to be something. You, to me, and I, to you, long to become a gaze that won’t be forgotten.” Yoongi’s staring at him so intently Seokjin’s insides are on fire. “Sorry I just remembered that poem.”
“Before I called her name,” Yoongi croons, “she was nothing more than a gesture?”
“That one,” Seokjin’s mouth says as his soul tells him Yoongi’s the one.
The plane gets wobbly as it lands. Seokjin speaks again. “Maybe we should just do whatever we want to do, for once,” he says. He wants to make every second they have left count.
“I never said I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do,” Yoongi declares, trying to sound cool. Seokjin’s jealous because he actually sounds cool; he stares at Yoongi with a knowing look, he knows he’s bluffing.
“Maybe I’m just projecting,” Seokjin says. “It’s easier to have someone else trying new things with you. Even if the things you’re trying are not exactly the same.”
The plane lands then. Yoongi stays quiet and smiles to himself as the captain talks about the time and the weather in Seoul. Seokjin still wants to kiss him. He also wants to see him smile again.
“Hey, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says. “What kind of music do mummies listen to?”
“What?” Yoongi asks. The seatbelt sign turns off with a ding. People start getting up from their seats, but Yoongi doesn’t. After pondering about it for a bit, he says, “I don’t know.”
“Wrap music,” Seokjin says triumphantly.
Yoongi breaks into a devastating smile. “That’s not funny, not even remotely,” he says, but he still smiles wide. Seokjin’s over the moon.
The walk silently to immigration after they get off the plane. Yoongi’s a stable figure behind Seokjin. He can feel Yoongi all tense and anxious and has the mad urge to take his hand and stuff it into his pockets. Something tells him Yoongi’s not good with crowds so he says nothing and tries to give off calming vibes so that Yoongi won’t be so worried. Namjoon always tells him he’s like a service dog, that his presence alone has this calming vibe. Namjoon would know because he loves reading books about things like that, he’s always talking about healing processes and holistic methods to cope with one’s own feelings. Seokjin wishes he can soothe Yoongi the same way Yoongi’s music soothes him.
They wait for their bags together. Seokjin didn’t notice when Yoongi took off his jacket, but he did, and now Seokjin can’t stop staring at his arms, all that skin, pale, smooth. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with a V-neck that makes Seokjin want to break the carousel carrying their bags so that he can stare at his lovely skin for a while longer. He has veiny arms, and he’s so pale his transparent skin makes his veins look a soft shade of blue. Seokjin’s fingers itch because he wants to touch and he locks them in his pockets once more.
“This is mine,” Seokjin says stupidly. It’s obvious that’s his suitcase, he’s taken it from the carousel. Yoongi’s still waiting. Seokjin doesn’t want to say goodbye, not yet.
“Mine’s still not here,” Yoongi says, he doesn’t sound stupid like Seokjin did. He sounds bored and matter of fact, but he’s picking at the skin on his thumb; it looks red and painful. A sign that he’s anxious. Seokjin wonders if it’s because of his suitcase that’s taken too long to come, or if it’s because it’s finally time to say goodbye. He hovers around him, busying himself with his cell phone, turning off the airplane mode and reading his texts. His assistant is already at the airport. Seokjin texts him to wait for him in the car and to send him his parking spot number. When he looks up, Yoongi already has his bag, a single suitcase. They both like to travel light, Seokjin realises.
“Let’s go, hyung,” Yoongi says. It sounds so familiar it makes Seokjin’s heart hurt, it’s as if he’s said it a thousand times. As if he says it all the time.
“I’m taking the airport bus to Yongsan,” Yoongi declares. He sounds weird, strained. He’s still picking at the skin on his thumb.
Seokjin doesn’t want to say goodbye. He thinks about saying he’s taking that same bus, but he knows his assistant’s waiting for him somewhere near; he texted him he was already at the airport a while ago. Seokjin realises he hasn’t exchanged numbers with Yoongi.
At Seokjin’s silence, Yoongi says, “hyung...” but then stops and doesn’t say anything else. The air is thick with anticipation, Seokjin’s glued to the floor, his tongue weighs a thousand tons on his mouth, he can’t get it to move.
“I want to kiss you right now,” he says, finally. That was exactly what he wanted to say, but that was not what he was supposed to say.
Yoongi looks up at him then, surprised, but it doesn’t take him long to gain his composure. “Do it then,” he says, smugly.
Seokjin takes a step and places a hand on Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi gasps at this. He probably didn’t think Seokjin’d dare. They’re in public, this could be a scandal! But Seokjin does not care. He brushes his lips with Yoongi’s and just this light touch makes his entire body shiver. Yoongi makes a soft vulnerable noise and Seokjin kisses him properly this time. It’s a sweet slow kiss. Seokjin feels Yoongi’s body pressed to his and then his arms are around Seokjin’s neck. Seokjin places his hands on Yoongi’s hips and this time, when Yoongi makes another soft vulnerable noise, Seokjin takes it into his mouth.
“I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment we met,” Seokjin says when they pull away from each other.
“I win,” Yoongi declares, voice raspy and face radiant. Seokjin realises he did that, wow. “I’ve been falling in love since the moment I saw you.”
Seokjin’s easy to admit defeat. “I am pretty stunning.” He gets a little shove from Yoongi, who mutters “fuck off.” And Seokjin’s heart feels like it ran a marathon.
“Just to be clear.” Yoongi’s voice has gone even deeper and Seokjin’s thinking about how much he wants to kiss it out of his mouth so he wills his brain to focus, Yoongi’s saying something important. “This is not,” Yoongi says, he’s getting all pink and flustered, it’s too cute. “I don’t do flings.”
“Oh,” Seokjin says. “Do I look like I do?”
“Your expensive trousers look like they do,” Yoongi says, his eyes are not on Seokjin’s eyes, but lower. Seokjin looks down and realises his trousers are so tight they’ve formed a bulge. Is this how he’s been walking around? Fuck his life. It didn’t look that bad at the airport’s bathroom.
“Jesus, God.” Seokjin doesn’t know what to do. Despite all the kissing they just did, he’s not hard, not even a little. He’s not a horny teenager anymore. He tries to cover himself with his suit jacket, but it’s too short and his life is a fucking joke. Yoongi probably thought he was a gigolo or a scammer or something. “I didn’t,” he mutters. “I had no idea. Oh God.” He realises no matter what he does, the bulge still shows, so he covers his face instead, too ashamed to look Yoongi in the eye.
Yoongi, bless his heart, laughs. At least Seokjin gets to hear Yoongi’s cute laugh. “Now you know why I was so suspicious when you told me to help you?”
“Even if I was so good-looking?” Seokjin says miserably from behind his hands.
“Precisely why you’re so good-looking,” Yoongi declares. “I need to be careful with beautiful men trying to seduce me. I’m not exactly what you’d call handsome.”
“But you’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen!” Seokjin screeches. How can Yoongi not see it? Seokjin wants to yell at him. He goes around making people fall madly in love with him.
Yoongi takes both of Seokjin’s hands away from his face. Seokjin’s face feels hot, his neck feels hot, he’s probably looking like a tomato. Still, Yoongi’s looking at him with nothing but fondness in his eyes. “So what do you want to do, hyung?”
“I’d like to get your number,” Seokjin says solemnly. His heart’s beating so loudly and frantically, Seokjin’s afraid the entire population on Earth can hear it. “Can I?”
“We can do anything we want to, hyung.”