Feel The Rhythm ( ) Jung Hoseok ()

feel the rhythm (리듬 느껴) – jung hoseok (정호석)

✧.* 18+

to dance is to transcend the boundaries of the mundane, where each movement becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of existence. it's an unspoken language, a symphony of the body that speaks directly to the soul. the subtle arch of a back, the delicate glide of a hand, the powerful leap into the air—all gestures that come together to form an intimate dialogue between the dancer and the rhythm that guides them. time ceases to matter, and the dancer becomes both the painter and the painting, expressing emotions that words could never capture. it reveals the deepest truths of the human spirit, inviting all who witness it to feel, to dream, and to connect.

it was impossible to dance without feeling—the music, the emotions awoken—everything. everything mattered. all the greats knew it, whether it was michael jackson or lee taemin, they enjoyed what they did and they perfected it, because they knew how to feel. each note of the music was a heartbeat, each beat a call to move, to express, to live within the moment. the floor beneath their feet became a sanctuary, a sacred space where they poured out their souls, leaving a piece of themselves with every step. this was not just performance; it was raw, unfiltered emotion made visible. to dance was to connect with something larger, something profound. it was an unending pursuit of grace and power, a testament to the beauty of human expression.

“you're bending your knees too much,” you never meant to come off as strict or demanding. in fact, you wanted to do quite the opposite, but you liked to push him. you liked to push him, because you knew he was a natural talent. you knew it, he knew it—everybody knew it. you had been by the group's side ever since their debut; eleven years of choreographing their songs, eleven years as not just the woman who planned out their dances, because you were practically family to them.

there was no favoritism, either. you made sure to work as a team, to push their limits as a whole. you loved them the same and made sure never to critique one member more than the rest, you knew just how to play fair. hoseok just happened to be their best dancer, and everybody was well aware of it. sure, all of them could work with the same choreographies, but none of them could execute them the way he did. it was a matter of passion, above all else. he never flaunted it; in fact, he was too humble. it was one of his most infuriating traits.

his eyes dropped to his knees, flickering between his pose and yours, paying close attention to what he had previously missed. “just a little bit, you see?” he watched your form carefully, noticing the way you put the slightest of pressure on your knees, bending them to the point where it was barely noticeable, before transitioning into the next step. this time, it was your turn to watch. he kept his eyes glued, moving with grace. this time, he did it just right.

“good job, just like that,” you had found yourself showering him with praise. most of the time, you did it because it was well-deserved. sometimes, you did it just to see the smile on his face. like the one he had on just then, it made you smile, too. “again,” you instructed, stepping back to give him room. “from the top.”

hoseok nodded, a small smile lingering on his lips as he reset his position. the music started, and his body moved with the fluidity and precision you had come to expect from him. every step, every turn, every isolated movement was a testament to his dedication and raw talent. you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that drove him to perfect every detail. as he danced, you felt a familiar warmth spread through you—a mix of pride and something deeper, something you rarely allowed yourself to acknowledge. the way he danced was mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but be drawn in by his passion and intensity. it was as if the world faded away, leaving just the two of you and the rhythm that bound you together.

“perfect,” you said softly, as the music came to an end. he was breathing hard, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, but his eyes were bright and focused. “thanks,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness in his smile. “your guidance always makes a difference.”

you walked closer, your footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent studio. “you're the one who makes the difference, hoseok. i can only point the way; you're the one who brings it to life.” there was a moment of silence, charged with an unspoken tension. you could see it in the way his eyes lingered on yours, in the way his breath hitched slightly as you approached. it was subtle, but it was there—an intensity that went beyond the dance.

“you make it easy to feel,” he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. “the way you understand the music, the way you push us to connect with it—it's like you see inside us.” your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. you had always pushed yourself to understand each member, to help them find their own connection to the choreography. but with him, it had always been different, deeper.

“it's because you let me,” you replied just as quietly. “you let me see the real you when you dance. it's a gift, hoseok, and it's beautiful.”

the intensity in his eyes deepened, and for a moment, it felt like the air between you crackled with energy. then he broke the gaze, looking down with a shy smile. “let's go again,” he said, but this time, his voice was softer, almost intimate. “let's,” you agreed, stepping back but feeling closer to him than ever.

he moved with the same grace and intensity, but now, each movement felt charged with an unspoken emotion, a palpable tension that neither of you could ignore. you mirrored his steps, guiding him with subtle cues and gentle corrections. the synergy between you was almost electric, and as the music swelled, it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you and the rhythm that bound you.

the song neared its climax, and you watched him closely, noting the slight adjustments he made, the way his body responded to the music with a fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly. you couldn't help but be mesmerized by him, by the way he embodied every beat, every note. it was as if you were dancing with the very essence of the music itself.

as the final notes faded, you found yourself breathless, not just from the physical exertion, but from the intensity of the connection you had just shared. hoseok's eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like he was about to say something, something that could change everything.

before he could speak, the studio door swung open, and a voice broke the spell. “hoseok!”

you turned to see lee bona, his girlfriend, standing in the doorway. she was beautiful, with an effortless elegance that made her presence commanding. you had met her a few times, but it was clear she wasn't fond of you. the way she looked at you now, with thinly veiled jealousy, made that abundantly clear. hoseok's expression softened as he saw her, and he immediately moved toward her, leaving you standing alone in the center of the studio. “bona, hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and affectionate.

she smiled at him, but there was a sharpness in her eyes when they flicked to you. “i thought i'd surprise you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. you forced a polite smile, trying to ignore the pang of discomfort that settled in your chest. “hi, bona.”

“hello,” she replied, her tone cool. she turned her attention back to hoseok. “ready to go?” he glanced back at you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “sorry, i have to go. we'll pick this up later?”

“of course,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “go ahead.”

he nodded and, with one last glance, left the studio with bona. as the door closed behind them, you stood there, the silence of the empty studio pressing in on you. you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, the intensity of the dance, the connection you felt, and then the abrupt interruption. how could he have a girlfriend and yet be so intimate with you? the thought twisted something inside you, a mix of frustration and confusion.

to clear your mind, you turned the music back on and started dancing again, but your movements were off, lacking the precision and grace you usually prided yourself on. the frustration bled into your dance, making each step feel jagged and unrefined. you could feel it in your body, the anger and disappointment seeping into your movements.

you didn't realize you had an audience until you heard a familiar voice. “you're dancing like you have two left feet,” namjoon teased from the doorway. you stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “how long have you been standing there?”

“long enough to see something's bothering you,” he said, walking into the studio with that easy, knowing smile of his. “got a hunch it might be hoseok's girlfriend.”

you scowled at him, trying to brush off the accusation. “it's like you want me to lose my job— strictly professional, joon.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “sure, if you say so. but your dancing says otherwise.” you wanted to argue, to defend the professionalism you always upheld, but you knew he was right. the emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. “it's complicated.”

namjoon gave you a sympathetic look. “i get it. but you know, taking a break might help. we've got the next few days off, and we're heading to a bar tonight. you should come.” you hesitated, the thought of socializing feeling overwhelming right now. but his smile was encouraging, and you knew he was right—you needed to clear your head. “alright, i'll come.”

“good,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. “we'll see you tonight then. and hey, try not to think about it too much. things have a way of working themselves out.” you nodded, watching as he left the studio. alone again, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. namjoon was right. for now, all you could do was dance, let the music guide you, and hope that the rest would fall into place.

the evening came, and you prepared for a night out, hoping that some time away from the studio might clear your head. you put on a simple but stylish outfit, something that would let you blend in yet still feel confident. the bar wasn't too far from the studio, so you made your way there, your thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and confusion.

as you entered the bar, you immediately spotted the group. they had secured a large table in a corner, and you made your way over, greeting each of them with a forced smile. the atmosphere was lively, the air filled with chatter, laughter, and the hum of background music. it felt like a world apart from the quiet intensity of the studio, but the tension you carried with you seemed to cling, regardless.

hoseok was already there, seated with his girlfriend by his side. his eyes met yours as you approached, and for a split second, the world seemed to shrink around you. there was something electric in his gaze, a reminder of the connection you had shared earlier. but it was quickly broken when taehyung, always quick with a compliment, spoke up.

“so, your performance with taemin?” taehyung’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “it's an understatement to say you killed it.”

the table erupted in praise, with jimin and yoongi both chiming in to agree. the enthusiasm was palpable, and you managed a genuine smile, though the praise felt hollow. you were used to being recognized for your work, but the absence of hoseok’s usual support stung more than you had anticipated.

jungkook, ever the tease, leaned in with a smirk. “so, what’s the deal with taemin? you two seem pretty close. maybe more than just coworkers?” you laughed it off, the sound feeling forced. “no, it’s nothing like that. we just have a good working relationship, that’s all.”

hoseok’s silence was almost palpable, and it was unlike him. normally, he would have been the first to voice his support or offer a playful comment. instead, he stayed quiet, a tight-lipped expression on his face that made you feel uneasy. then, to your dismay, he finally spoke up with a tone that felt almost accusatory. “she isn’t crazy; that would be totally unprofessional.”

the words stung more than you expected, cutting through you with a sharpness that made you flinch. you forced a nod and tried to mask your disappointment. without saying another word, you excused yourself and made your way to the bar itself, desperately needing a drink to calm your nerves.

you ordered something strong, hoping it would dull the edge of your hurt. as you waited, you could feel hoseok’s eyes on you, even from across the room. it was a constant reminder of the tension that seemed to hang between you like a thick fog.

namjoon noticed your departure and followed you to the bar. he joined you as you sipped your drink, his presence both a comfort and a distraction. “you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but perceptive. you managed a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “yeah, just needed a break.”

he didn’t buy it, but he didn’t push. instead, he leaned in, a glimmer of an idea in his eyes. “you know, i think i might have something that could take your mind off things. my friend wonho is working on a solo track, and he needs help with the choreography. would you be interested in collaborating with him?”

you hesitated, the thought of diving into a new project both appealing and daunting. but the distraction might be exactly what you needed. “i’d love to,” you said finally, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “thank you for thinking of me.”

namjoon’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a quick hug. “you're our girl, dancing's your thing. of course i'd ask you.”

as you made your way back to the table, your mind was already spinning with ideas for wonho’s track. you knew that this was a chance to refocus, to move forward from the confusion and disappointment of the evening. and although the night was far from over, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to balance the complexity of your feelings with the passion for your craft.

the next day, the dance studio was alive with activity. the boys were immersed in practice, their movements synchronized in a display of impressive skill and energy. you were usually a central part of these sessions, but today, your absence was noticeable. hoseok seemed particularly restless. his eyes darted to the door every few seconds, as if expecting you to walk in at any moment. it was clear that your absence was affecting him more than he let on. he performed each step with a certain rigidity, a subtle but noticeable contrast to his usual fluidity.

namjoon, who was busy adjusting the playlist, finally broke the silence. “just so you all know, (y/n) is working with wonho on his solo track today. she’s helping him with the choreography.”

the announcement was met with a chorus of supportive remarks and curious glances. taehyung and jin voiced their encouragement enthusiastically, while yoongi and jungkook nodded in approval. however, hoseok’s reaction was markedly different. he remained silent, his face betraying a hint of something—perhaps jealousy or frustration. his movements, which had been sharp and precise before, now seemed to lack the usual confidence, as if he was struggling to find his rhythm without your presence.

the practice session dragged on, and it became increasingly apparent that hoseok was out of sync, his performance reflecting the internal turmoil he was evidently experiencing. the studio buzzed with energy, but his mood cast a shadow over the atmosphere.

back in wonho’s studio, the environment was different—intimate and focused. he was a striking presence, his muscular build and handsome features adding to the allure of the space. the track he played was a vibrant, engaging mix of beats and melodies, capturing your attention immediately. as you listened, the rhythm sparked a flurry of ideas in your mind.

wonho, noting your engaged expression, smiled warmly. “so, what do you think?” you took a deep breath, trying to articulate your thoughts. “the track is amazing. it’s got this incredible energy, and i think it could really move people.”

he leaned in slightly, curiosity evident in his eyes. “is something on your mind? you look like you’re thinking about something more than just choreography.”

it was then that the lyrics of the song began to make themselves heard more clearly—romantic, heartfelt, and deeply personal. they spoke of love, longing, and vulnerability, and you couldn’t help but think of hoseok. the connection you had with him, the moments you shared, seemed to echo in the song’s verses, making your heart ache with an intensity you hadn’t anticipated.

seeing the change in your expression, wonho chuckled softly. “is the song that bad?” you shook your head quickly, trying to dispel any misunderstanding. “oh, no, not at all. it's actually beautiful. but the lyrics—you must really love the girl you wrote it for.”

his laughter was warm and knowing. “loved, actually. we all need our hearts broken at least once. it helps us understand the depths of emotion and fuels our craft.”

his words resonated with you. you had always known that art and emotion were deeply intertwined, but hearing it from someone who had clearly experienced such passion and pain firsthand struck a chord. you pondered his insight, considering how heartbreak and longing were universal experiences that shaped the art of dance just as much as they did music.

“thanks for sharing that,” you said, a touch of gratitude in your voice. “it’s really insightful.” he nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. “of course. it’s all part of the journey. now, let’s get to work on this choreography. i’m excited to see what we can create together.”

as the day wore on, the intensity of your focus in wonho's studio created a palpable buzz of creativity. the music played, its infectious beat filling the space with an energy that pushed you to explore new movements and ideas. you felt a deep sense of connection with the track, and as you freestyled, you let your body respond to the rhythm naturally.

the studio was a sanctuary, its large mirrors reflecting your every move as you danced. you moved with fluidity and passion, the music guiding your steps as you interpreted the emotions of the song. each movement seemed to flow effortlessly into the next, and you could see that he was mesmerized by your performance. his eyes followed you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity, clearly impressed by the way you embodied the music.

as the track continued, you paused to catch your breath and turned to wonho. “when i listen to this song, i see a story unfolding—you can really tell you put your heart into it.” he nodded, absorbing your words. “that’s exactly what i hoped for with this track. i’m glad it’s coming across that way.”

he took a deep breath and stepped onto the floor, beginning to dance to the music. his movements were solid but lacked the fluidity you had come to expect from him. there was a hint of hesitation in his steps, as if he was holding back. “i’m sorry if my dancing isn’t up to par,” he said, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. “i’m just trying to match the energy of the track, but i feel like it’s not quite there.”

you watched him with a critical eye but offered a reassuring smile. “no, it’s not shabby at all. your movements are strong and controlled, and you have a natural rhythm that really complements the song. it’s just a matter of getting more comfortable with the dance. you’ve got a lot of potential.”

his face brightened at your praise, and he seemed to find a new confidence in your words. with renewed determination, he threw himself into the dance with greater enthusiasm, his movements becoming more expressive and in tune with the music. it was clear that your encouragement had a significant impact on him, and the energy in the room shifted to a more dynamic and creative flow.

as the hours passed, you continued to work closely with him, shaping the choreography and refining the details. you found yourself deeply engaged in the process, enjoying the collaborative effort and the creative synergy that flowed between you. with each passing moment, the choreography began to take shape, the intricate movements and transitions coming together to create a compelling visual narrative.

by the end of the day, you had crafted a substantial majority of the choreography. the routine was vibrant and expressive, capturing the essence of his track while allowing room for individual interpretation. both of you were satisfied with the progress, and the atmosphere in the studio was one of accomplishment and mutual respect.

as you wrapped up, he turned to you with a warm smile. “thank you so much for your help today. i couldn’t have done this without you.” you returned his smile, feeling a genuine sense of satisfaction. “it was my pleasure. the track is incredible, and it was great working with you on this.”

his gratitude was evident as he stepped forward and gave you a hug. the embrace lingered a bit longer than you might have expected, but you could sense his appreciation and warmth. for a moment, you found yourself enveloped in his presence, the hug carrying an unexpected intensity.

when he finally pulled back, you smiled at him, trying to keep the moment light. “why don’t you come to the studio tomorrow? we can show namjoon and the boys the dance. i think they’d love to see it.” wonho’s eyes lit up with excitement. “that sounds great! i’d love to. thanks for the invitation.”

you exchanged a few more pleasantries and packed up your things, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. the collaboration with him had been both invigorating and rewarding, and you looked forward to sharing the results with namjoon and the rest of the team. he had done you a favor, successfully giving you the perfect distraction.

the next day, the studio was bustling with activity as the boys prepared for their practice session. the atmosphere was filled with anticipation and excitement, not just for the usual routines but also for the special showcase you had promised. as you walked into the studio with wonho by your side, the energy in the room shifted. the boys, who had been engrossed in their own discussions, looked up and greeted you with enthusiastic smiles.

“hey, everyone! i’m excited to introduce you all to wonho,” you announced with a bright smile. “he’s been working on a solo track, and we’ve put together some choreography that we’d love to share with you.”

namjoon’s eyes lit up with genuine interest as he walked up to his friend, greeting him with a smile. “awesome! can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with.”

the rest of the boys gathered around, their expressions ranging from curiosity to eagerness. all of them were practically animated, their faces practically glowing with anticipation. they exchanged excited glances, while the atmosphere felt charged with a positive buzz. hoseok, however, stood apart from the group, his posture rigid and his expression noticeably cold. it was evident that he was struggling to mask his jealousy. he avoided eye contact, his gaze fixed on the floor as if deep in thought. his mood was palpable, casting a subtle shadow over the otherwise upbeat environment.

with everyone’s attention now focused on the dance floor, you and wonho took your places. the music started, and as the track played, you began to move with a fluidity that matched the rhythm. he followed your lead, his movements synchronized with yours in a dance that was both captivating and dynamic. the choreography was intricate, a blend of powerful movements and tender moments. as the routine progressed, you felt the connection between you and him deepening, the dance becoming a dialogue of its own.

the final segment of the routine featured a particularly intimate move, a moment where wonho’s face came close to yours, his arm wrapped around your waist while your arm rested around his neck. it was a close, personal space that spoke volumes without the need for words.

as you and him executed the move, the rest of the boys erupted into cheers and applause, their excitement evident. the clapping and shouting filled the studio, a testament to the impact of the performance. however, hoseok remained unmoved. he watched the dance with a look of barely contained irritation, his expression darkening as the routine came to its climactic end.

when the final beat of the track echoed through the studio, wonho pulled away with a grin, clearly pleased with the reaction. you joined in the applause, your heart racing from the intensity of the performance. the boys continued to cheer, their enthusiasm unwavering.

it was in that moment that you noticed hoseok’s abrupt departure. he slipped out of the studio quietly, his departure almost unnoticed by the others who were still caught up in the excitement of the moment. the change in atmosphere was subtle but undeniable—his absence left a void, a silence that seemed to seep into the corners of the studio.

unable to shake off the uneasy feeling, you excused yourself from the group and stepped out into the hallway. the corridor was quiet, the distant hum of the studio music a faint echo against the walls. you followed the path hoseok had taken, your footsteps soft against the polished floor.

when you found him, he was leaning against the wall, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. he was close to the door, and the hallway was dimly lit, casting shadows that seemed to enhance the tension in the air. “hoseok,” you called out softly, approaching him with a concerned look. “is everything alright?”

he didn’t immediately respond, his gaze fixed ahead, avoiding your eyes. the silence stretched between you, filled with an intensity that was almost palpable. the air seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken emotions. you took another step closer, your voice tinged with worry. “is something wrong? you left so suddenly.”

he turned his head slightly, his face close to yours but still distant. the coldness in his demeanor was striking, a stark contrast to the warmth of the studio. “i have to go,” he said, his voice low and edged with finality.

the words were simple, but they carried a weight that left you momentarily speechless. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between the emotions he was trying to hide and the reality of the situation. there was a distance between you, both physical and emotional, that felt almost unbearable.

before you could say anything further, he pushed off the wall and turned away, walking briskly down the hallway. his footsteps echoed in the silence, a sound that seemed to resonate with the intensity of the moment. you watched him leave, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. the confrontation had been brief, but it left a lingering sense of unease. the hallway felt colder now, his absence creating a void that was difficult to fill.

hoseok stepped out of the studio, the cool air of the evening brushing against his face. the weight of the conversation with you lingered in his mind, intertwining with the knowledge of his upcoming meeting. he glanced at his phone, the message from bona still visible on the screen. she had asked him to meet her at a nearby coffee shop, a request he couldn’t ignore despite his current state of emotional turmoil.

he walked briskly through the quiet streets, his thoughts consumed by the unresolved feelings between you and the burden of his relationship. the coffee shop was a cozy, dimly lit place, a stark contrast to the chaos of his mind. as he approached, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before entering.

she was already seated at a corner table when he arrived. her face lit up with a smile as she saw him, but the joy in her eyes quickly faded when she noticed the tension in his posture. hoseok forced a smile as he joined her, slipping into the chair across from her. “hey,” he greeted, trying to sound casual. “hey,” she replied softly, her eyes searching his face for some sign of what was troubling him. “i'm glad you could make it.”

they sat in silence for a few moments, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. hoseok’s thoughts were racing, but he tried to focus on the present. he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small box, placing it gently on the table between them. it contained the necklace he had bought for her, a symbol of their relationship that now felt like an anchor weighing him down.

her eyes fell on the box, and she reached for it with trembling hands. her fingers traced the delicate chain as she opened the box and saw the necklace inside. there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes, and she took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she spoke.

“i’ve been thinking a lot lately. about us. And I don’t know how to say this, but,” her voice broke, and tears began to well up in her eyes. “i think it’s time for us to break up.”

his heart sank, but he remained stoic, his face a mask of calm. the news was not unexpected, yet it still felt like a blow. he had long sensed the disconnect, and although he had wanted to avoid the confrontation, he knew deep down that this was a resolution he had been avoiding. he nodded slowly, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of resignation and relief. “it isn't the same anymore, i know,” he said quietly, his voice steady. he did know, and he knew how bad he had wanted out of the relationship—he just didn't want to hurt her. “i know.”

she looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. the silence between them was charged, but hoseok knew it was time to act. he stood up, walked around the table, and gently placed the necklace around her neck. the gesture was tender but lacked the warmth it might have once held. it was a final act of kindness, a way to end things on a note of respect.

as he stepped back, he saw the tears streaming down her face. he offered a faint, almost bittersweet smile before turning to leave. his steps were purposeful and steady, but inside, his mind was elsewhere. the thoughts of you, the dance, and the unresolved feelings he harbored for you filled his mind, pushing out any remnants of his prior relationship.

leaving the coffee shop, he felt a peculiar sense of liberation. it wasn’t joy, but rather a profound relief—a space now open for him to confront his own feelings and desires. the end of his relationship with was, in a twisted way, the best gift she could've given him. it was an opportunity to pursue what he truly wanted, what he truly felt.

the studio was a haven of solitude and focus as you danced alone. the space was dimly lit, the lights casting long shadows that accentuated the precision of your movements. the choreography you were working on was demanding, a complex sequence of steps that required both grace and strength. you moved effortlessly, your body translating the intricate patterns of the dance into a fluid expression of emotion. each step, each turn, was executed with a blend of determination and elegance, a testament to your skill and dedication.

unbeknownst to you, hoseok was watching from outside the studio, his eyes fixed on your every movement. he stood in the doorway, hidden from view but captivated by the sight of you dancing. the way you moved, the passion you poured into the performance—it all stirred something deep within him. it was a mixture of admiration, longing, and a pang of jealousy that he tried to suppress.

as you reached a particularly challenging part of the routine, you heard the faintest sound of the studio door opening. hoseok’s presence was undeniable now, and his gaze was intense as he watched you. you didn’t notice him at first, lost in the rhythm and the demands of the choreography. but as you completed the segment, you turned to find hoseok stepping into the studio.

wonho was at your side almost immediately, having come to watch your performance. he greeted him with a friendly nod. “hey, hoseok. we were just working on the new choreography. what brings you here?” his response was curt, his tone cold. “i came to see if i could run the dance with her.”

wonho looked taken aback by the abruptness but managed a polite smile. “sure, we were just wrapping up. it’s all yours.” hoseok's eyes bore into his with a fierce intensity, a silent assertion of his claim. wonho, though taken aback, took a step back and watched as you and hoseok prepared to dance together. the tension between them was palpable, and you could sense the shift in the atmosphere.

as you began to dance, the room seemed to hold its breath. hoseok’s movements were sharp and precise, his focus entirely on you. his performance was impeccable, matching the grace and intensity of your own. the chemistry between you two was undeniable, the dance becoming an almost intimate exchange. he kept his gaze locked on wonho throughout, a clear message that you were his and his alone. the intensity of his stare was enough to make him shift uncomfortably, though he tried to maintain his composure.

when the dance ended, wonho clapped, his expression a mix of admiration and envy. “what was impressive. you both make a great team,” as if calculated, he turned to you, awaiting your answer, not hoseok's. “would you be available for a deeper discussion about the track over lunch? i’d love to get more insight.”

you were about to respond positively when hoseok interjected, his voice firm. “actually, she won’t be able to make it. we have practice scheduled.” you looked between the two of them, caught in the middle of their silent rivalry. “hoseok, we can work something out—”

before you could finish, he cut you off again. “we have a tight schedule, and it’s important that we stick to it.”

wonho’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded, understanding the implicit challenge. “alright, if you're able to reschedule, just let me know.” you turned to hoseok, frustration evident on your face. “can we talk outside for a moment?”

without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the studio, hoseok following closely behind. the corridor was quieter, a stark contrast to the energy of the dance floor. you faced him, your voice steady but concerned. “what’s going on with you?” you asked. “you’ve been acting like an asshole. what’s this really about?”

his eyes softened as he looked at you. there was a mix of vulnerability and resolve in his gaze. “i just broke up with bona,” he admitted, his voice low. “it’s been complicated, but i needed to be honest with myself and with you.”

you hid your surprise, maintaining a sympathetic demeanor. “i’m sorry to hear that. i hope it’s not too hard on you.” he shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “it’s actually a good thing. it means i can focus on what i really want. and that’s where you come in.”

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender gesture. his gaze lingered on you, his face inches from yours. the moment was charged, the air between you filled with unspoken words and emotions. hoseok leaned in, his lips almost brushing against yours, when a voice interrupted from down the hallway.

“hey, do you have a minute for another session?”

it was wonho, his timing impeccable and his presence unmistakable. you pulled away from hoseok, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. his expression darkened slightly, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his eyes. you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “sure, won. let’s head back.”

as you re-entered the studio with him, hoseok’s gaze followed you, a simmering tension in his eyes. the dynamic between you, him, and wonho had shifted, and the complexity of the situation was far from resolved. the dance session resumed, but the lingering emotions and unresolved feelings created an undercurrent that was impossible to ignore.

the weeks that followed were filled with a growing intensity between you and hoseok. the studio was a place where the boundary between professionalism and personal emotions often blurred. amidst the choreography, rehearsals, and performances, the subtle tension between you and him became increasingly unbearable.

in the studio, when no one was looking, his gestures grew more intimate. during breaks, you’d find his hand brushing against yours under the table, fingers grazing lightly, creating an almost electric connection. there were moments when he’d hug you from behind, his presence a comforting warmth against your back. his hand would rest casually on your waist or thigh, an unspoken claim that seemed to linger in the air.

one afternoon, you were both working on a new routine for his solo track. the studio was alive with the energy of the song, the beat driving the rhythm of your movements. you and hoseok were lost in the dance, the choreography blending seamlessly with the music. he was focused, his eyes locked on you as you both performed with fluidity and precision.

during a particularly intense sequence, his voice broke through the music, his tone low and sensual. “don’t dance with him,” he said, referring to the upcoming live performance with wonho. the statement was clear, and the possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable. you continued dancing, maintaining your composure. “i have to,” you replied, your voice steady despite the charged atmosphere. “it’s strictly business.”

his response was to pause in the middle of the choreography. the move positioned him behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist with a possessive tenderness. his breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “i don’t like watching you dance with him, you’re strictly mine.”

the whispered words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt the intensity of his emotions press against you. as you resumed the dance, the air between you was thick with unspoken promises and desires. the routine continued with an almost palpable tension, each movement more charged than the last.

in the final pose of the routine, you extended your leg gracefully, the culmination of the dance. hoseok was on his knees next to it, his fingers lightly caressing your skin. the touch was delicate, but it carried a depth of feeling that words couldn’t convey. the studio seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint echo of the music in the background.

you looked down at him, your heart racing as you spoke softly, “i promise i won’t dance with him like i dance with you.”

his eyes were filled with a mix of relief and desire. he nodded, his expression softening. without a word, he pressed a gentle kiss to your leg, his lips lingering for a moment. the touch was both intimate and reassuring, a silent confirmation of the bond between you. the kiss was a promise, a reminder of the connection you shared. as you both stood up and moved away from each other, the tension was still there, but it was now tempered with a mutual understanding.

the backstage area was a flurry of activity as you prepared for wonho’s live performance. the atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation. you adjusted your outfit—a striking ensemble designed to fit the theme of the performance. the costume revealed more skin than you were accustomed to, its daring cut and intricate design highlighting your every move. you made sure everything was in place, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves that accompanied such a public display.

as you finished the final touches, wonho appeared from behind the curtain. his presence was calm and collected, a stark contrast to the bustling energy around you. “ready to go?” he asked, his voice warm and encouraging. you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “ready.”

the two of you walked towards the stage, the muffled sounds of the audience growing louder as you approached. the curtains parted, revealing a sea of faces and bright lights. thousands of people filled the auditorium, their cheers and applause resonating through the air. you scanned the crowd, spotting your group near the front. they were all watching eagerly, their faces alight with enthusiasm—except for hoseok.

he was sat off to the side, his expression rigid and stoic. his eyes were fixed on you and wonho, but his gaze was anything but cheerful. the jealousy that coursed through him was palpable, a stark contrast to the smiles of his colleagues.

as the crowd's chatter began to die down, the lights dimmed, and the performance was set to begin. you took a deep breath, focusing on the routine ahead. the music started, and you and wonho moved in perfect synchronization, the choreography flowing seamlessly between you. his voice filled the space, each note perfectly timed with the dance steps.

the performance was a showcase of your skills, but it was also a demonstration of the chemistry between you and him. the dance was dynamic and energetic, punctuated by moments of close contact and intimate gestures. his tight shirt clung to his chest and biceps, accentuating his physique. his movements were confident, but it was the way he touched you—holding you, guiding you, his hands lingering a bit longer than necessary—that drew the most attention from hoseok.

from the corner of your eye, you could see his reaction. his usual charm and warmth were replaced by a simmering anger. his gaze was locked on the stage, but it wasn’t just the performance he was watching—it was the way wonho’s hands roamed over you, the way his proximity seemed to be a direct challenge to his claim over you. every touch, every moment of contact between you and wonho was like a dagger to hoseok’s chest.

as the routine reached its climax, you and wonho moved into the final, scandalous pose. the dance ended with you in the same provocative position, his face inches from yours, his arms around your waist. the pose was intimate, the culmination of a performance designed to captivate and provoke. the audience erupted into applause, but hoseok’s reaction was a mix of rage and helplessness. his eyes were fixated on you, his frustration evident despite his attempt to mask it.

the performance concluded, and the stage lights faded. the curtain fell, and the roar of the audience’s approval became a distant echo. you and wonho took your final bow, sharing a brief, congratulatory hug before making your way backstage. the air was thick with the residue of the performance and the emotions it had stirred. as you walked offstage, you felt a mix of relief and apprehension. the adrenaline from the performance still buzzed in your veins, but you couldn’t shake the awareness of hoseok’s gaze. you hoped to catch a moment to speak with him, but his presence was as distant as it was intense. you could sense his eyes on you, even as you tried to avoid his gaze.

backstage, he remained apart from the group, his demeanor unchanged. his stoic expression spoke volumes, but it was his unyielding gaze that betrayed his inner turmoil. despite the applause and celebration, his focus was solely on you, and the jealousy he felt was a tangible force. the night had only just begun, and the emotions between you and him were far from settled. as you moved through the backstage area, the echoes of the performance lingered, and the complexities of your relationships became ever more entangled.

the studio was quiet after the performance, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. you were alone, stretching to ease the tension in your muscles from the demanding routine. the coolness of the studio floor felt soothing against your skin, and the large mirror reflected your exhausted yet satisfied expression. your body ached, but the relief of having completed the performance was refreshing.

as you reached up to stretch your arms, you could see the way your muscles shifted and relaxed in the mirror. you focused on your movements, trying to release the pent-up energy and stress from the evening. the studio was a familiar sanctuary, a place where you could regain your composure and reflect on the night’s events.

without warning, you felt a presence behind you. hoseok entered the studio, his steps almost silent against the floor. you didn't need to turn around to sense his mood; it was palpable. the air between you grew thick with tension, and you could almost feel the weight of his jealousy pressing down on you.

he approached you, his presence a definite contrast to the quiet calm of the studio. he pressed himself into your back, the warmth of his body sending a shiver down your spine. his touch was gentle, almost tender, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, but his words were anything but kind.

“did you enjoy yourself out there?” his voice was low, laced with a bitterness that contrasted sharply with the softness of his touch. his lips brushed against your neck, the kiss both soothing and provocative. “i saw you and wonho—very cozy, weren’t you?”

you tried to ignore the sting in his words, focusing instead on the soothing pressure of his kisses. “it’s all part of the performance,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. “you know it’s strictly business.”

his grip tightened slightly, his fingers splaying across your toned stomach. “strictly business? that’s what you call it?” he nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your neck. “you were practically in his arms. do you know how hard it is to watch someone else touch you like that?”

his words were a mix of jealousy and possessiveness, each comment a reminder of how much he cared—or how deeply his feelings were tangled with his frustrations. the contrast between his tender touches and bitter remarks was disorienting, making it difficult to decipher his true emotions.

“you know it’s not like that,” you said, trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite the rising tension. “we had to execute the routine as planned. it’s professional.”

his kisses grew more insistent, his lips tracing along your neck and shoulder. “professional,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “you were so close, it looked more personal than professional. i couldn’t stand seeing him touch you like that.”

his hands roamed over your sides, his touch both comforting and charged with an undercurrent of frustration. “i'm the one who’s supposed to have that intimacy with you,” he murmured. “not him. and here i am, watching you dance with someone else, knowing you’re his for those moments. it drives me insane.”

you could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, his emotions palpable in the way he held you. despite the sharpness of his words, there was a vulnerability in his touch, a hint of how deeply his feelings ran.

“it bothers you that much?” you asked softly, turning slightly to face him, though you kept your gaze on the mirror. “it’s part of the job, baby.” hoseok’s eyes met yours in the reflection, his expression a storm of emotions. “i can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough with frustration. “don't want anyone else around what's mine.”

his confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his emotions. you felt a pang of sympathy mixed with confusion. his possessiveness was clear, but so was his deep-seated affection. it was a complex, tumultuous blend that left you feeling conflicted. neither of you knew what to say, and not much else was left to say.

the lack of words was made up for almost instantly, as he finally found himself leaning in. he was pressed into your back, an arm snaked around your front as he brought his lips down onto yours. the intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, each touch and breath creating a charged atmosphere that was impossible to ignore. the silence was broken not by words but by the sudden, intense need that radiated from him.

the touch was gentle at first, a soft exploration that spoke volumes. but as the intensity of his emotions surged, the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent. his lips pressed against yours with a fervor that left no room for doubt about how much he cared. the kiss was all-consuming. hoseok's free hand slid up to cup your face, his fingers threading into your hair. he pulled you closer, his body molding against yours as if trying to erase any distance between you. the kiss was an urgent declaration, a way of communicating everything he couldn’t put into words.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you responded to the kiss. the heat of the moment was undeniable, the intensity of his feelings mirrored in the way he kissed you. his touch was both demanding and reassuring, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

as the kiss continued, it became a battle of passion and need. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could merge your very beings through this single point of contact. his arms tightened around you, lifting you slightly off the ground. the strength in his embrace was a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his thumb against your cheek. as your bodies melded together, you could feel the tension in the air thicken. the anticipation was unbearable, like the moment before a storm breaks. and just like that, the dam burst. his hands moved from your waist to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss even further. his tongue danced with yours, a silent promise of what was to come. the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of sweat and the lingering aroma of the floor cleaner, creating a heady concoction that was uniquely him.

he propped you against the mirror, his position behind you remaining. you gasped at the coldness of the glass, hands pressed into it as you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror—so desperate, so lust-driven. his hands moved with the same precision and control he had when he danced, but now they were driven by something primal. he unhooked your bra, letting it fall away from your body like a forgotten accessory. his eyes never left yours as he cupped your tits from behind, his thumbs teasing your hardened nipples.

you gasped, arching into his touch, and his smirk grew into a full-blown smile. he bent his head, taking one into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, as if trying to claim you fully through this most intimate of gestures. you moaned, your hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

he pulled away, his eyes dark with lust. he slid your panties down your legs, revealing your most sensitive spot to the cool air of the studio. he knelt between your thighs, his breath hot against the flesh of your ass. his tongue traced a line from the base of your spine to the apex of your thighs, making you shiver with anticipation. He took his time, savoring every inch of you as if you were the sweetest treat he'd ever tasted. his mouth found your core as his hands gripped your ass, and his tongue began to work its magic, circling and flicking, driving you wild with need.

“he get to touch you like this, too?” he practically growled. you pressed your forehead into the glass as your mouth hung open, all you could do was moan. that quickly changed as he pulled away from your sticky cunt, hand flying against your ass as to punish you for your silence. “you better use your fucking words,” and you did.

“no, nobody,” you whimpered, legs quivering as his fingertips traced your folds, collecting the sticky substance that oozed down your thighs. “only you, hoseok.”

it was a good enough answer for him. while he pleasured you, he removed his own clothes, shedding them with the same urgency as he had yours. his muscles rippled in the spotlight, casting dramatic shadows across the studio walls. his eyes met yours in the mirror, the reflection revealing his own need, his own desire for you. he stood up, his arousal evident, and you reached for him, eager to return the favor. but he was already there, positioning himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“gotta be gentle, hobi, you're too fucking big,” you nearly begged, and it wasn't far from the truth. you knew it the minute you caught a glimpse in the mirror, the minute you felt his sticky, swollen tip in between your lips. he was so fucking big, hard and desperate for you. the way you pleaded only made him harder, his dick pulsating with need.

he watched your face in the mirror, forehead sweaty with your puffy lip tucked between your lips. he needed you—it pissed him off, how good you looked. all that raced through his mind was how good you looked, and how he wasn't the only one who thought so. “i'll think about it,” he lied.

with one swift motion, he pushed his dick past your folds, and you both gasped in unison. the feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, the pressure and the heat making you feel like you might shatter at any moment. he began to move as your pussy clenched around him, his hips driving into yours in a rhythm that mirrored the beating of your hearts. the sound of your skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of pleasure. “too big, hobi,” you whined, earning a groan in response. your walls fluttered around him, milking his dick for all it had to offer as he drilled deeper into you.

his hand made its way past your tits, grabbing onto your throat as he continued pounding into you. his grip tightened as you moaned, fueling the fire with your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he watched it all, admiring your reflection—the way your tits bounced, the way his hand fit so fucking perfectly around your neck. “feel the rhythm, baby, come on,” he encouraged in your ear. “you can take it, be good for me.”

the mirror reflected your passionate embrace, allowing you to watch each other's expressions of ecstasy. hoseok's possessive gaze never wavered from yours, as if to remind you that in this moment, you were his and his alone. the dance studio had transformed into a place of raw, unbridled passion, and there was no room for anything else.

he was so close, you could tell by the way his free hand held onto your hip, biting into your ass as he used it to his advantage, filling your cunt up to the brim. “tell me where you want it, yeah?” he was eager, too eager, but so were you. you didn't know if it was the atmosphere, or the sheer love you felt, but something had possessed you right then and there. “inside,” you mewled, breathless as a string of moans followed. “inside my pussy, make me yours.”

your words had flipped a switch in him, and you both knew it. his hand released your throat, reaching for your hip as he pushed into your cunt harder than ever. each thrust grew more sloppy and desperate as the second passed, his tip caressing your most sensitive spot. he was close, and so were you.

the tension between you grew, a tight coil winding tighter with every thrust. your moans grew louder, echoing off the walls. hoseok's movements grew more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening. you could feel yourself approaching the edge, the world outside the studio forgotten. and as you reached the peak, your body went numb. you came with a loud moan, and he followed shortly after. he came just as loud, his cock twitching inside your sore cunt. you could feel the way his cum flooded you, thick ropes of seed filling you up to the brim.

for a second, he didn't pull out. he debated it. the warmth was comforting to him, as you had both turned the studio into something of your own. a different dance, a different art. he leaned in, slipping out of you as he did so, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “i like this performance a whole lot better.”

✧.*

a/n: writing mean!hoseok is so weird ngl anyway take a shot every time i say palpable!!!

my boyfriend broke up with me so there's a good chance i'll be inactive for a while <3 love you all

frostbite (동상) ㅡ min yoongi (민윤기)

the second part can be found here

✧.* 18+

“cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone,” was what your mother had found herself repeating to you your entire life. maybe not your entire life, actually. you couldn't really remember when the phrase was spoken into life, perhaps when you had turned twelve, thirteen; when you began to develop and mature, when push-up bras began to substitute training bras, when makeup began to gain significance, when she had noticed how older and younger men alike had started to smirk and leer more and more shamefully whenever you passed by.

it wasn't because she had it out for you. quite the opposite, actually. it was something her mother had sang to her, an invention of her own she had sang to life when hormones began to work faster than she could blink. she thought it would raise awareness as a subtle way for her to let her daughter know that no man could ever be trusted in the slightest, but your mother didn't care to listen. it worked the first few years of her adolescence; she avoided relationships all throughout high school and college, but all good things come to an end. after she had graduated and gone into finance the way she had planned, things took a turn when she met your father. no one could have predicted the outcome. their relationship moved quickly, but smoothly. their friends had sworn up and down that they could never imagine them in an argument, until they got married. with marriage came a child, you. with a child came more responsibilities, with which came more money spent. they spent and spent until they had nothing left to spend, and that's when the verbal arguments had reached a new low.

by the time you had turned fifteen, you found yourself consoling your mother as much as she allowed you to. it was draining, you found yourself asking the man in the sky for a way out. a way out was in store, just not for you. one night, just a little after midnight, your father had packed his bags and left after another one of their more tense fights, swearing to find a younger, prettier, richer woman. you had both assumed it was another one of his empty threats, but you would never come to know, as that was the last time either of you have seen or heard from him.

for weeks on end following his departure, your mother had no tears left to cry. she was too quiet, white in the face as if all the blood has been drained from her body. she wasn't interested in discussing what had happened ever again. more weeks passed and winter came along, and she had fallen ill. you had picked up a job at fifteen and worked as many shifts as you could just to keep the house warm, to keep food on the table at least until december's weather had passed. she knew you had been trying, and you knew she was grateful, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as her condition worsened, as did the weather.

blizzards were uncommon in daegu. sure, it was normal to wake up to over ten inches of snow, but the storms just never seemed to take action. that's why you were surprised to have woken up just half an hour past four in the morning, to the sound of ice pounding on your windows and vicious wind blowing. your room was on the second floor, completely untouched, and you felt relieved for just a second. that second quickly passed when you called out for your mother, only to be met with silence. maybe she didn't hear you, maybe she had mistaken your voice for the wind; it's what you so badly wanted to believe as you made your way down the stairs. your heart stopped when you had realized that hope was more than a call away.

despite the untouched stairs and floor above, the living room she had been sleeping in was a wreck. the air was noticably colder, windows broken, glass shattered on the wet floor. the storm had done all the damage, yet that still wasn't the worst part. your mother was still on the couch, her skin as pale as ever. she was facing the ceiling, eyes open. you felt your heart sink to your stomach, and you've been dreading the feeling ever since. you've carried the grief ever since it happened, tears stinging whenever november made an appearance, whenever the temperature shifted. your mother had frozen to death, and how could you ever get over it, how could you ever function? you dreaded your father more than anything, knowing that if she could've beared to sleep in their shared room on the floor above, she would've been alive.

that was the first moment you had taken her words to heart. cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone.

you had made it through the rest of high school without any interest in dating, or men in general. you had graduated the way you pictured yourself graduating, and you did it alone. it was a lonely road before anything else, but it was something you learned to live with. you spent your last summer as a high school student working to kill the time, waiting for the college season to start. everyone from your class had gone their separate ways, but you couldn't care less. every day seemed the same—wake up, eat, work, come home, eat, sleep. you went to sleep dreading the night, and woke up dreading the day. on one particular day, a man had stopped you in your tracks on the way to work. all he had to say was, “wouldn't hurt to smile, would it?” all it did was put a scowl on your face.

when summer had finally come to an end, you were the most ecstatic you've been in in the last four years. you couldn't wait to leave the house you grew up in—sell it, rent it out, it didn't matter. all you wanted was out. you ended up renting it out to an anonymous customer, which definitely should've raised some alarms, but you couldn't care less. they needed the house, you needed the money; they could've turned it into a meth lab for all you cared.

daegu university was located on the other side of town. it was a good college, despite how far away it was, which meant it was worth the agonizing drive. it was almost cartoonishly big, big and urban. nothing less was to be expected of a private school with a low acceptance rate and big bills. you had met with the principal of the university a total of three times. the first time was to congratulate you for being accepted, which had taken you aback. it was the first time in a long time you had allowed yourself to grin from ear to ear. the second time was just a few days later, he had shown you around the campus in advance, to avoid any confusion when the halls were packed to the brim. the third and final time was to get you comfortable in your dorm, where you met your dorm roommate.

the school itself was filled with spoiled, conceited kids with little to no knowledge and extended trust funds. it truly was a sight for sore eyes in the worst way possible. often did you find yourself rolling your eyes at their remarks and complaints, it was incredible how they could be so out of touch with reality and out of sync with the real world. you couldn't keep up with the rich people bullshit—stained shoes, last season clothes, companies going bankrupt. just a month into college, you learned to tune everything out, nearly everything.

your roommate took the cake, and you knew it. you felt the last shreds of your patience go numb when you had first met him. for the sake of your education, you told yourself that having a guy as your roommate would be no issue. you didb't want to leave a sour taste in the principal's mouth, so you put on a smile and complied. all you had to do was ignore him, just as you had been doing your whole life. he was quiet when you had first met, he was quiet throughout the many times you had spotted him during lectures or lunch. min yoongi—out of his entire group of friends, he seemed to be the most tame. that had lasted until he grew more comfortable and less mindful of your presence.

awake at the peak of midnight, you typed away at your laptop. your forehead was slick with sweat, hair tied back as you focused on your presentation. yoongi had gone out, perhaps with his friends. the room was quiet, aside from the sound of the wind whistling from outside. the silence didn't last as long as you needed it to, however, your heart practically skipping a beat as the door swung open. you really could've sworn you had locked it, making a mental note to double-check from that point on. the room was dark, so you couldn't make out who had entered until the lights flickered on. the smell of soju was pungent as yoongi stumbled into the room, making your nostrils flare. you couldn't bite back the groan that left your mouth as he stumbled in, only because he wasn't entering alone, for the third night in a row. he had come in with another sorority girl, hand around her waist as their lips remained locked in a drunken dance, their feet tumbling over each other. yoongi waved you off as if to let you know he didn't give a shit, you could either stay and watch or leave, so you left for the third night in a row. you took your laptop with you and remained sat outside of the door, typing hastily while you prepared yourself for yet another night of listening to their ten minutes of pleasure.

while you continued to type away, you felt a tap on your shoulder. already pissed off, you bit back a hiss as you snapped your head to the side. greeted by your friend's smile, you were relieved you didn't snap at him. “shit, third night in a row? he's on a roll, isn't he?” kim taehyung was the first person that introduced himself to you, and on your first day, too. at first, you had no interest in being his friend, but quickly warmed up to him once you realized just how much you had in common. he was from bukgu, just like you. he liked the same things you did, but more importantly, disliked the same things as you—men and rich people. men, more or less—he cheered you on when you found yourself ranting about men and their behavior, even if he did it jokingly. his vendetta against the rich was what made him stick out, as he had gotten into the university due to his promising resumé, accepting a full scholarship. with that being said, he was always respectful towards you, treating you as a friend and nothing more.

“i don't know how you can stand to hang out with him,” you responded, typing away as he allowed himself to sit next to you, throwing a glance at the screen. “he's a good friend, don't sweat it,” he paused, a smile crossing his lips. “but i'm not dumb enough to live with him, fuck no.”

yoongi was all too quiet, even with his friends, but he made up for that with many habits that failed to please you. those habits ranged from chainsmoking to excessive drinking to the dehumanizing way he fucked every girl with two legs and a functioning mouth. shit, it didn't matter if the girls had two legs or three, he'd find a way to spread them as long as he was in the mood, but they'd never get a glance from him the next day, let alone a text back. he'd just move onto the next victim.

“you could hold me at gunpoint and i still wouldn't know what these girls see in him,” you scoffed. you really didn't know. sure, he was a good-looking guy, you weren't gonna go out of your way to lie and call him ugly, but nobody could be good-looking enough to risk your self-respect.

taehyung seemed like he was actually thinking about it for a second, the faint sound of moans and groans from behind the door adding to his brain fog, “i think he just has a really big dick, yeah?” you shot him a look, almost concerned, “you seem to do a lot of thinking about his dick, anything you wanna tell me?” you teased, earning a joking punch to the shoulder.

“how charming,” he sneered, all you could do was laugh. he paused for a second as the moans began to die down. “there is something i wanna ask you, though.”

you stopped your typing, peeling your eyes off the screen in order to face him. “yeah, go ahead.” he seemed hesitant, a nervous smile crossing his face, and you couldn't help but worry about what was to come. “you can't say no right away, you have to hear me out,” he was only making it worse. “i'm supposed to go to this kid's frat party tomorrow night, and i wanna bring a guest, yeah?”

your face couldn't help but twist up in pure confusion. it wasn't that you were a total stone cold bitch that was gonna leave him high and dry, but you had never been to a party in your life. “and out of all the potential victims in this school, you wanna go with me?” he nodded, almost eagerly, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. “duh, who else am i supposed to go with?” you could've inquired, but you didn't dare argue back, you didn't have the patience to. instead, you waited a second before agreeing. you didn't have to stay overnight, just a couple hours to keep taehyung company.

“okay, yeah, come to the dorm and we'll go, what time is it?” you asked as you closed your laptop, the painful silence from behind the door being a good enough sign that you could come back in. “i'll come by around eight, thanks for this, i owe you one.” you nodded as he gave you a hug goodbye, watching as he scurried down the hall and back to his own dorm.

you let out a sigh of exasperation, hand sliding down your face as the realization hit you. you didn't know the first thing about social gatherings, let alone about the ones with wannabe elite socialities that'll have too much to drink. the thought made your stomach churn as you reached for the doorknob, but before you could open the door, you had been beaten to it.

from the other side, the girl yoongi had brought to the dorm had swung the door open, stopping in her tracks as she locked eyes with you. she was a pretty girl, but the look she gave you was enough to make your blood boil. she didn't say a word, but the look itself was so nasty, you felt as dirty as she did. as she stomped away, you could hear the sound of yoongi's laughter from the room. “feisty one, isn't she?” he asked as you finally came in, making sure to lock the door this time. “charming girl, you sure know how to pick them,” you rolled your eyes.

he turned to face you as you walked in, wearing nothing but his short as he made himself comfortable, pressing a cigarette to his lips. the look you threw him was incredible, almost mimicking the one tonight's vencido shot you just a few seconds prior. “do you really have to smoke that shit in here?” you asked as he lit the tip of it. he raised an eyebrow, as if offended. “you got lung cancer?” the question had little to no relevance, but you shook your head. “then, what's the problem?”

“it smells like shit,” you hissed, waving your hand at the smoke drifting in your direction. he couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way over to the sofa, kicking his feet over the side. “hold your breath, open a window if you have to.” you scoffed as you watched his eyes close, cigarette tucked between his lips. you opened both of the windows in the room, greeting with fresh air with open arms. it was the last thing you had said to one another before you went to sleep, physically too tired to argue any further.

the following morning came too quickly, the sunlight from the window that had been, once again closed, practically blinding you, even while your eyes were closed. you could barely open them, head groggy as you powered through it. despite the bright rays, it wasn't what you saw that had awoken you from your slumber, but what you had heard.

it was about seven in the morning, maybe a few minutes last seven. whatever time it was, you knew it was too early to be listening to whatever it was you were listening to. you could make out two loud voices; one was yoongi's, the other belonged to a girl. for a second, your blood ran cold at the thought of him hooking up with a girl while you were awake, but the fear went away as your vision began to clear up. they were both half-naked; not fucking, just arguing.

“you're a fucking asshole, you've always been a fucking asshole,” the girl yelled, voice piercing your ears. you could make her frame out, definitely wasn't any of the past three girls that came in. she was much smaller than yoongi, her fists pounding against his chest but to avail as she continued to yell and cry. “you think fucking my best friend is funny, asshole? or the other sluts you have in here every fucking night? or the whore in your bed at seven in the morning?”

you scrunched your face up, offended at the assumption, but you remained in your position, not wanting them to notice your presence in case the situation worsened. “you better watch that fucking mouth of yours,” you heard yoongi respond. he didn't yell at her, he didn't hit back. his voice was almost stoic. “she's not a fucking whore, she's my roommate and she's sleeping, so either be quiet or get the fuck out.” you were almost pleased with his answer, it was the closest thing you'd ever get to him being nice to you. unfortunately, she didn't like that answer at all.

“get fucked, you son of a bitch,” was the last thing she said before leaving, and she didn't go quietly. she left the dorm with heavy footsteps and a deafening slam of the door. yoongi paused, reaping the insult with only a second of eerie calmness. when the wave of calm had passed, you felt your body jolt as he threw the television's remote control at the door, muttering a string of angry curses as he did so. only then did he turn around, watching the way you stared in surprise.

he tilted his head back down, almost as if he felt sorry, “sorry if i woke you up, go back to bed.” you shook your head, pushing the blanket off as you swung your legs off the bed. it was much too late to go back to sleep anyway. “all good, i gotta get to class anyway.” he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as he pressed another cigarette to his lips. you watched him light it up in shock, it was still seven in the morning.

“what the fuck kind of classes do you have this early?” you rolled your eyes as you brushed out your hair, getting done only what was necessary before leaving for your morning lecture. “management accounting,” you murmured a response. he raised his eyebrows, keeping his distance as he blew smoke into the air.

“studying finance, really?” you nodded in response, unable to tell if he was impressed or disgusted. “that's cool,” he said softly. “my step-dad studied finance, too. says it's a pain in the ass.”

perhaps you had were too comfortable in that moment, perhaps you were just too tired and out of it to register what was coming out of your mouth. “my mom studied finance, she was really good at it,” your eyes had locked, but only for a second. it wasn't long enough to carry too much significance, but not short enough to go unnoticed. you coughed, “i'm gonna go to class.” he nodded silently, watching you grab what you needed before heading towards the door. he watched you leave for your lecture, cigarette still pressed to his lips, but not before opening the window.

your classes had lasted longer than you had anticipated, the one hour mark stretching for another two hours. by the time you had finally finished, you felt the second wave of exhaustion flood your system. the morning wasn't even through, and you were ready to give up and go back to bed, but you couldn't. as you left the classroom, dreading whatever your schedule had in store for you next, you felt an arm sling around your shoulders as you walked down the hallway.

“hey, loser,” taehyung cooed in your ear, ruffling your hair as you scoffed, delivering a playful slap to his arm. “going to your morning classes like a good little geek, aren't you?” you rolled your eyes as you peeked at your schedule, smiling as you realized your next class was with your friend. “remember those words when you're working for me in ten years, jackass.”

he feigned offense as he placed his hand on his forehead in a dramatic fashion. “so so cruel, i would truly rather work at a gas station.” you couldn't help but laugh as you both made your way into the next classroom. you couldn't help but admire how elegant the classrooms were, truly a hit or miss product of capitalism. unfortunately, you weren't given much time to admire as you both stopped in your tracks in the middle of the room.

“min yoongi taking english literature,” taehyung was the first to react, equally as surprised as you were. he laughed as he walked up to his friend, who was seated in the back row, arms crossed with a faint smile on his face. “you do realize the class doesn't come with a free ashtray, right?” you faintly trailed behind him as they dapped each other up, the most unnecessary display of masculinity, you thought.

“yeah, don't be too shocked, my parents aren't paying for me to smoke all day,” yoongi responded. his faint smile grew more and more faint as he watched you come up behind taehyung. his gaze switched from you to him. “you two friends?”

you had opened your mouth to say something along the lines of “none of your fucking business,” but your friend was much quicker than you. taehyung wrapped his arm around your shoulders once more, ruffling your hair as you protested. “(y/n)? no, she's my hostage, as you can see.” you sighed in defeat, knowing it was no use. “you're such an ass,” you hissed. yoongi didn't say a word, he just stared. his gaze continued to flicker, but he remained quiet. even as you found your seat next to taehyung, just across from yoongi, he stayed quiet. silent, though his gaze never left the two of you, and you could almost feel it.

morning classes seemed to be the last of your problems as the day went on. everything was normal until you returned to your dorm, the panic you had been fighting since last night finally settling as you checked the time. you had exactly an hour to get ready before taehyung would come to pick you up. exactly an hour to find an outfit, put some decent makeup on, and get the courage to not pussy out. yoongi was nowhere to be found as you entered the dorm.

your wardrobe wasn't necessarily limited, as you had brought everything that could fit you. anything that couldn't was given to charity before you rented out the house, it was the smartest thing to do. you kept everything in a narrow closet, alongside some jewellry your mother had kept in a dainty box. it was a weird sensation, even after so many years, running your fingers through the fabric would never not strain your heart. you gulped back the melancholic nostalgia as you raked through the clothes. finally, you pulled out a dress hanging from above, one that had caught your eye.

it was anything unlike you had ever worn, because it wasn't yours. it was a dress your mother had worn when she was just a bit younger than you. despite what she believed in, she was the life of the party, unlike you. she knew how to let loose, and she wasn't afraid to express herself through her clothes. the dress was almost skimpy, she loved giving men the wrong impression. she loved knowing they could look because, they'd be looking either way, but they could never have her. she was in control, and the dress was gorgeous. a gold dress with thin straps, entirely tight and made to hug the body of whoever chose to wear it. it wasn't what you were used to, not at all. you loved the fact that it was pretty, but you loved the fact that your mother felt pretty in it even more.

if it wasn't her dress, you were entirely sure you wouldn't have liked it. the sensation of putting it on and embracing it was even weirder than the feeling of finding it. nonetheless, you slipped into the dress as you stood in front of the mirror. the dress was even more beautiful on you rather than in your hands. it was just as you imagined—tight, hugging every part of your body from your chest to your thighs, but beautiful. the light from the room did it more than enough justice, it glimmered.

even as you did your makeup, you couldn't help but give all your attention to the dress. it made you feel warm on the inside, the fact that you had a part of your mother clinging to your skin. it was as if she had never left. when you finished, with your face touched up, the heels you wanted, and the gold ring on your finger, all you could do was admire the dress in the mirror.

“holy shit,” were the words that finally snapped you back to reality, your body jolting as your head turned to the source of the sound. you hated how bad your instincts were when you were distracted, it was one of the reasons why taehyung could tease you as much as he did without you reacting. you froze, not knowing what to do.

“shit, i didn't mean to scare you, i'm sorry,” yoongi continued. he was equally as frozen as you were, having stopped himself in his tracks as he stared at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “it's just that you look really nice. the dress is—really nice.”

you almost felt bad for staying quiet. it wasn't that you were ungrateful, you just didn't know what to say. for a moment amidst your silence, yoongi continued to admire you for a moment longer, turning on his heel when he realized you had gone mute. “wait,” you practically blurted out, stopping him in his tracks once more. “thank you. it was my mom's.”

he didn't turn back around, but he remained in place as he felt his heart tighten at your words. “doesn't fit her anymore?” his tone was almost hopeful, as if he was hoping that would be the case. you went quiet for a second, before the answer came out entirely too quickly, as if you had thrown it up. “it would've if she was still here. she passed away, few years ago.”

you regret it the second it had come out, but that was the thing about word vomit; just like regular vomit, you could never take it back. now, it was his turn to be silent. you were entirely sure that you had creeped him the fuck out, but he felt that it was far from that. his heart tightened, it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. he responded as he turned around, finally facing you. “i'm sorry,” he murmured. “my dad passed away some years back, too. storm was bad.” he had mentioned his step-father, but never his actual dad. you felt for him, and he felt for you.

you opened your mouth, ready to offer some form of support, but the distinct pounding on the door was quick to cut you off. “come in,” yoongi muttered out, loud enough for whoever it was to here. taehyung wasted no time opening the door, practically cheering as he came in, unable to read the room.

“is my hostage ready?” his voice had dropped a few octaves as he neared the end of the question, walking into the room as he locked eyes with you. it was something about you in the dress rather than the dress itself, and yoongi was quick to notice his reaction.

“what're you doing here?” he asked taehyung, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at his shell-shocked reaction. for a second, he focused. “i'm here for (y/n), we're going to the wang party.” never had you heard of that name in your life.

yoongi raised an eyebrow before turning back to you. “you didn't say you were going to jackson wang's shitty frat party,” he sounded almost displeased. you shrugged, “what's it to you?” you and taehyung exchanged a glance as yoongi scoffed, the agitation expanding.

“his entire frat has a thing for roofies and rape,” he paused to shoot taehyung a look. “but i'm sure your friend already told you about that.”

it was your turn to shoot taehyung a look, who already had his hands up. “you really think i'd let something happen to her?” he asked, his tone slightly colder than usual. yoongi scoffed at the rhetorical question, “go on, then,” was all he uttered out.

you knew you didn't need any help, and that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, which included the decisions you made. still, it didn't change the fact that leaving the dorm held more tension than it was supposed to. taehyung shut the door as you left, leaving yoongi in distress that he chose not to make obvious. instead, he chose to ignore the way it nagged him as he turned the television on, hoping it would just go away.

“roofies and rape? you guys are such a fucking cliché,” you muttered as you made your way down the hall with your friend. as oblivious as you were, for taehyung, it was a blessing, because you failed to notice the glances sent your way. he thought you were gorgeous, he thought the dress was gorgeous, up to the point where he could barely register what you were saying. “okay, yeah, ignore yoongi. i told you, i'm not gonna let anything happen, no way.” you knew he wouldn't, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease as taehyung knocked on the door. the way yoongi acted, the way he talked, it was such a drastic and quick shift.

the generic music and cheers weren't audible until the door opened, you began wondering who you had to ask to get a thick door like that for some very necessary sound blockage. the guy who opened the door was familiar, you were sure you had seen him around campus before. “what's up, jackson?” they greeted each other with a laugh before the guy turned to you, with an almost unsettling spark in his eyes as he did so.

“good to see you, tae,” he spoke a little louder in order to combat the loud music. “and who do we have here?” the flickering colorful lights lit up the room, and you could make out what seemed to be hundreds of people in there, much to your disbelief. there was no logical reason for there to be that many people at one dorm party.

you introduced yourself, a friendly but equally forced smile on your face. “yeah, you're yoongi's roommate, aren't you?” you nodded in response, and you could tell that jackson wasn't too pleased with your roommate. “we should get you a drink then, make it easier to deal with him.” you feinged a laugh as you agreed, shooting taehyung a desperate look. you didn't need to say anything as you followed jackson in, your friend has already burned holes in the back of his head with his glare.

“i'll get us drinks, is that cool?” he could've sworn he saw jackson's face flash with disappointment, but the host obliged, nonetheless. you knew it was the best way for you to not get your virginity taken by the proclaimed roofie rapist, but you couldn't help but panic as taehyung left, even if it was for a good cause.

everybody was a sweaty, drunk mess. the party had started a mere fifteen minutes ago, yet the dorm was packed to the brim with careless, leering students looking to blow some steam off. you found yourself with your pressed against the wall as you created as much distance as possible. “i'm guessing it's your first frat party,” jackson said, only a few feet away from you. you avoided eye contact as best as you could, though you could barely hear him. “first party in general,” you corrected him. “not really my type of scene.”

he chuckled as he closed a few inches of distance off between you two. “that's what i figured,” you quite literally had nowhere to go, with the wall pressing into your back. “must be why you came with your boyfriend, right?” you laughed, but it wasn't in a mocking way, as if you had taken slight offense. “no, taehyung's not my boyfriend, i don't do boyfriends.” you made sure to put emphasis on the last bit.

jackson raised his eyebrows, taking a mere step closer as the lights flashed. he wasn't an unattractive guy, but you needed to take caution. “all the girls here tend to come with their boyfriends,” he gestured towards the many couples easily spotted behind him, all of them a sweaty mess of hormones, grinding and kissing without a care in the world. “rumor's going around that i'm not a nice guy, so they wanna be careful,” you couldn't tell if he was covering his tracks or not, but he was too close to your face, and the alcohol on his breath was no consolation. “what about you? you think i'm a nice guy?”

you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, and you truly didn't know how to answer. his eyes bored into yours as a smirk played on your face, your mouth open but no word vomit. before you could waste another second thinking, you glanced at his side, watching taehyung stride over with two drinks, as if on time.

“here you go,” he broke the silence, and relief washed over you. once again, jackson attempted to mask his disappointment with a smile. taehyung handed you a glass of something clear, strong. you knew it was strong, whatever it was, but the tension was so cruel, you couldn't help but down the contents of the cup, as if to ease how unsettled you felt.

whatever it was left a disgusting taste in your mouth, almost like nail polish. your friend watched you, almost concerned, while jackson let out a laugh. “i have a feeling it isn't your first time,” a comment that earned him a glare and a half. you shook your head, “i'm not a drinker,” you argued. “but i'll take more of it.”

this time, taehyung pulled you to his side. “great idea, let's go,” he urged, earning him the third look of disappointment of the night, but he paid no mind. he knew that no reaction, was the best reaction. a frown formed on your face as he dragged you through the tight crowd, leading you to the coolers on the wooden table. he shot you a look, “stay away from jackson,” was all he said as he passed you another drink, this time, a can from the cooler. something less strong to kill the burning sensation in your throat. all you could do was nod.

by the time you had gotten your fair share of drinks down your system, the atmosphere around you began to shift drastically. it was less tense, more refreshing. the more lightheaded you felt, the easier it was to let loose. the worse your vision had become, the more flushed you felt as your blood pumped. you had left taehyung's side, the succumbing to the foreign feeling as you joined the crowd despite his calls of disapproval. you knew he'd come after you, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was absolutely nothing. you just liked the way it felt, swaying to the music as if nothing mattered. unfortunately, everything mattered, and not everyone was as unaware as you were. jackson watched you from the sidelines, and he was focused, despite the many drinks that were clashing in his system. he couldn't not focus on you.

as the night wore on, situations varied. in one dorm, the music was loud. the flashing lights provided no sanctuary, and the drinks were practically freezing despite the immense heat. in one dorm, everybody was having a fantastic time. in another dorm, the silence was deafening.

yoongi had put out what may have been his final cigarette of the night. his throat had grown tight, and his stomach had started to churn. he knew it wasn't because of the cigarettes, no. he had put so many of them out just to ease the aching concerns in his mind as he watched the clock tick. a minute had past, followed by an hour. then, another hour. by the time the box was empty, it was almost midnight, and he couldn't think. with his fingers intertwined, nose pressed against them, he let out a sigh. why were you still there? why hadn't you come back yet? did something happen? it was all he could think about. it wasn't that he cared, he just didn't want anything to happen to you; it'd put his reputation in a tough spot, seeing as you were his roommate and all. at least, that's what he wanted to believe in.

the sound of the clock ticking was almost mocking, as was the way the hand moved in the slowest fashion possible. when another fifteen minutes had passed, he glanced at the door, hoping he'd see you stumble in. maybe not sober, but alive and untouched. when the last speck of hope faltered, he found himself pulling his weight off the couch. “fuck this,” he practically spat, snatching the door keys off the drawer before making his way out.

you were unaware of what was happening behind the door, outside of your makeshift sanctuary. you had finally reached the point of betrayal, only then could you see why you had avoided alcohol for so long. as your head span, so did the room. the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach had quickly replaced the short-lived euphoria you had felt up until then. as your dancing faltered, you found yourself tumbling in the opposite direction, practically tripping over your own two feet.

before you could cause yourself any harm, you felt a familiarly unfamiliar touch embrace your waist, preventing you from falling onto your back. for a second, everything went quiet, relief coursing through your veins. the relief was as short-lived as the bliss. “caught you just in time, didn't i?” you heard jackson murmur, his breath hot against your ear. your vision was blurry, and you were slurring your words as if you had a lisp. you didn't want him to know how drunk you were, you didn't want him to take advantage of it, but he was no fool. “yeah, thanks'o much,” he only chuckled in response.

in an attempt to pull yourself away from him, you found yourself staring at him face-to-face, as his grip never left your waist. you could barely make out his figure, let alone muster the strength to run away. your mouth was open, but it was as if your brain was too slow to form any sentences. “feel bad, don't you?” his voice was soft, almost comforting but borderline mocking. all you could do was nod. “we should go, get you taken care of. my friend's gotta spare room, yeah?”

your hands were pressed up against his chest, as if in attempt to push away from him, but no force was emitted. under any other circumstances, you'd have had no problem leaving, but things just weren't playing in your favor. he smirked, leaning in towards your face as his hot breath fanned your neck, nose grazing the side of your jaw. you pressed your eyes shut, hoping it would all go away, but it never did.

“it's a shame your friend left you here,” he practically purred in your ear. his fingers grazed your collarbone as his free hand slid down your hip, reaching to cup your ass as he let out a sigh at the feeling. “pretty thing like you, nothing good's bound to happen, right?” you couldn't fight back. for the first time in forever, you couldn't fight back, and you hated it. you hated how you were at his disposal, there for him to use without a care in the world. you kept your eyes shut, still hoping it would all stop and go away. and finally, it did.

it didn't go away quietly—within seconds, you could feel a tight grip ripping you away from jackson, a force so aggressive, you felt your heart stop for a split second. you felt as if you didn't need to second-guess who it was, thinking taehyung had finally located you and came to your rescue, but your suspicions were denied once you turned around. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” despite being free from his grasp, jackson's yell made you wince. he came closer once more, but he didn't face you this time.

yoongi came just as close as he did, mere inches away from his face as he levelled with him. “dunno, jackson, she looks pretty drunk to me,” he sneered in his face. you were behind yoongi, with one of his arms pressing into your front in an attempt to block the distance between you and jackson. by that point, the music had started to falter, and people were growing more and more interested in the scene that was unfolding. “you can take the roofies and rape bullshit somewhere else, i'll fucking kill you and you know it.”

for a second, jackson almost seemed hesitant to react, as if he was scared of the man in front of him. that second passed, but it didn't go unnoticed before he chose his next words, “i should leave my bullshit here and fuck her 'till she's sober, in case you wanted to watch.” had he chosen anything else to say, maybe the situation wouldn't have escalated the way it did so fast. because, in one swift motion, jackson plummeted into the ground beneath his feet, his neck bending backwards in an almost animated way as yoongi's fist collided with the bottom of his jaw.

“holy shit,” was all you could breathe out, screams emitting from the crowd of people behind you as you watched jackson's bloody gums shine under the lights. your body told you to move forward, pressing into yoongi's arm as you took a step towards jackson. the man beside you almost instantly looked back at you as he pushed you off with just enough force to make you stumble back.

for a second, you and yoongi locked eyes. your eyebrows furrowed, a look of concern in your eyes mixed with the profound melancholy of a lack of thoughts. your brain was moving too slow, you thought you looked stupid, but he thought you looked beautiful. it pissed him off how beautiful you looked, and it was all you could see in his eyes. anger, anger, anger. anger, and a speck of something else that you couldn't quite figure out.

“you've gotta be fucking joking,” your head snapped towards the source of the sound, and you spotted taehyung rushing to your side. first, all of his anger was directed towards jackson, but the anger quickly shifted to your roommate once he realized jackson had been dealt with. “where do you get off shoving her?” yoongi scoffed at the question, watching the way your friend came up to you from behind, his annoyingly protective hands cupping your shoulders as he watched you, hoping to see you were okay.

“where do you get ditching her in a place like this?” was yoongi's response. everything went quiet, too quiet, as he and taehyung locked eyes. you were afraid, too afraid that your friend would end up in the same position as jackson. “it's crowded, i went to the bathroom and couldn't find her,” taehyung's defense was reasonable, as you had given him permission to go, promising you'd be fine for a minute or so before making your way to the dance floor. yoongi laughed, but there was no humor to be traced, “that's funny seeing as i found her the second i came in here.”

the silence physically made your stomach twist, and they could both see it from the way your abdomen clenched as you bent forward. people had started whipping their phones out, snapping photos ane taking videos as hushed whispers began to fill the air. “let's get you out of here,” taehyung murmured, ignoring what yoongi said as to avoid any further discomfort, but you knew yoongi. everybody knew him. as your friend pulled you by one arm, leading you towards the exit, you both stopped in your tracks. from your other side, yoongi kept his grip on your hand tight. you couldn't fully grasp the situation, but his unfamiliar touch had a different feeling than jackson's. they were both foreign, but only one was welcomed.

“go home, taehyung,” yoongi uttered out, and oncr again, they locked eyes. the tension was palpable, and you couldn't stand the way their cold gazes matched one another so well. when taehyung's eyes left his, they met yours. you wanted to go home so bad, the situation was killing you from the inside. so, you held his gaze and nodded. he let out a sigh as he let your arm go, ever so hesitantly. “i'll call you,” was what he said before he finally turned on his heel. yoongi practically sneered—“no, you won't,” was what he so badly wanted to say.

the morning which had followed was no easier than the previous night. you couldn't remember the last time you felt so sore, the pounding in your head never seeming to ease. you blinked, more than what was deemed natural, as you opened your eyes to the blinding sunlight. you could hear your roommate, but had yet to see him. “weather's getting colder,” was what you could make out as you propped yourself onto your elbows. “enjoy the sun while it lasts.” unfortunately, he had a point. you stopped straining your eyes, allowing the sunlight to do its work. now, you could see him, standing next to the open window with a cigarette in his hand.

“what time is it?” you asked, exhaustion laced in your voice as your brain had begun picking up the pieces of last night's rezendevous. “about ten,” your head snapped, realizing you had missed two of your morning classes. “but don't even think about going anywhere.” you looked up to meet his gaze as he blew smoke out the window.

your whole body was tense, and only when you stepped out from under the covers did you realize just how right he was about the weather. “why's it so fucking cold?” you couldn't help but ask, the borderline freezing weather leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “it's almost winter,” yoongi responded, just as dryly. “fucking hate winter.” you let out a humorless laugh, as if to agree. if there was one thing to agree on, it was that.

your phone vibrated on your desk, and as you peered over to see who had been bugging you so early in the morning, taehyung's face flashed on the screen once more. “so annoying,” yoongi spoke once more. “he's been doing that all morning.” you shot him a look as you scurried to pick up your phone, “and you didn't think to answer him?” you asked, watching him take the last drag of his cigarette. he shrugged you off, earning an eye roll as you finally picked up taehyung's call.

“thank god, everything okay?” you heard his panicked voice from the other side, before even getting a chance to greet him. “yeah, just woke up,” you murmured, your heart pounding as you recalled just how bad it had gotten the night prior. you could recall the drinks, the lights, jackson. most importantly, you could recall yoongi, and how he had rushed in, potentially stopping you from getting assaulted. the phone was pressed against your ear as you looked up to meet his eyes once more. from the way he looked at you, you knew he recalled it just as well. because, he looked at you as if he wanted nothing to happen to you.

“i'm really sorry for leaving, i should've held it in a little longer,” your friend's apologetic voice rang once more. you shook your head as if he was there, but your eyes never left yoongi's, “no. tae, it's alright. it would've happened either way, it's not your fault.” you could've sworn yoongi's gaze dropped at the mention of his name, but either way, the eye contact had finally broken. you spoke to your friend a minute longer, dismissing his apologies and promising you'd see each other for lunch. he wanted you to spend it with him and his friends, seeing as that would be much safer than being alone. you complied.

when you finally hung up, you allowed yourself to face reality once more. “there's advil in the cabinet,” yoongi spoke. this time, his tone was colder than anticipated. you thanked him, allowing yourself to get ready for whatever it was the universe had in store for you.

by the time lunch had rolled around, you found yourself waiting for your friend once more. this time, for a much safer setting. taehyung and his friends normally spent that period outside, taking up a bench or two while they hung out. as you walked with him, you could feel just how unfamiliar and harsh the air had grown. he noticed your discomfort, but said nothing, as you were near the spot anyway.

you couldn't recognize any of his friends. sure, you had seen them around campus. maybe even in a class or two, but you knew none of them personally. all but one. as you walked up to the bench, yoongi was the last to notice you, but the first to meet your gaze. “this is (y/n), she's gonna be joining us today,” taehyung introduced you, and you forced a smile. the smile was returned as the boys introduced themselves, all but one. yoongi remained silent, but never took his eyes off you. all of the boys were locals, all from daegu, but all of them seemed to harbor the same personality as taehyung, regarding the rich people bullshit. they seemed nice, down-to-earth, until the questions rolled in.

“you were at that party last night, weren't you?” one of the boys, who had introduced himself as dongwon, asked. though hesitant, you nodded, earning a sound of astonishment from him. “yeah, jackson's a real asshole. he didn't put his hands on you, did he?” you tensed up at the thought, with dongwon earning a look of disapproval from taehyung. you weren't the only one uncomfortable—from the corner of your eye, you could see yoongi fidget with his fingers, perhaps at the mention of what went down last night.

“no, not really,” you responded, recalling the way he had you backed up against the wall, the way his fingers so desperately waited for further access beside your waist. “not really?” dongwon repeated, as if confused. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

you shrugged, as if hesitant to go into further detail. “he didn't get to do much touching, nothing too bad,” you paused, watching the way nearly all of them listened carefully. “tried to kiss me, had his hand on my ass but that's really all—” before you could finish your thought, everybody's attention shifted to yoongi, who had pushed himself off the bench and onto his feet, throwing his can into the bin behind him more aggressive than necessary. “yoongi, what's your deal—” once again, you found yourself being cut off by the same man. once he was on his feet, his grip was on your elbow, practically dragging you away from the group and back into the school.

you thrashed, but it was no use, you couldn't pull yourself out of his grasp. he was too strong and too determined, as he pulled you into the first empty hallway he could find. once he had found the spot, you found yourself in an all too familiar position, with your back pressed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, but your voice was weaker than usual. you didn't know if it was because of last night's antics, or because of the current tension. “what's wrong with me?” he repeated, tone equally as harsh. “where do you get off talking about shit like that?”

now, you were just confused. “what the hell are you talking about? he asked me a question.” yoongi rolled his eyes, you truly had no idea why he was so mad. especially at you, what was it that you said wrong? “why didn't you call me when he touched you?” this time, his tone was more gentle, and the confusion had been replaced with shock. “if i had come in a second later,” he stopped himself mid-sentence, not wanting to imagine just how much the situation could have escalated.

your face softened at his words, it was almost like he felt guilty for not having stopped you when he had the chance. “you came,” you said. “you came, and i'm grateful you did.” your words comforted him, just a little bit. in the end, the important part was that someone intervened. even if it happened to be your roommate. for a moment, you saw him smile, but perhaps it was too much. he knew it was, so he followed it up with an eye roll, “it was a pain in the ass, had to watch over you, missed breakfast and lunch and everything,” he paused, as if the lightbulb in his head came to light. “you owe me lunch.”

you owed him lunch, and it took every cell in you to avoid ripping his head off his neck. it was the least you could do, it really was. it wasn't like you didn't know how to cook, of course you did. it was one of the first things your mother had made sure she taught you on time. but it was something about the almost smug smile he was wearing as he made himself comfortable on the chair, while you whisked away by the stove. “and don't even think about poisoning it,” you heard his taunting voice from behind. “the death penalty's legal now.”

for a moment, you even considered it. you opted for one of your mother's recipes, seeing as your roommate wasn't specific with what he wanted. truly, he didn't care. he just wanted to eat, with the appetizer being an excuse to fuck around with you. the specific recipe you were using had been passed around from one generation, all the way to your mother. the stew itself was something anyone could make, but nobody could make it the way your did. in fact, it was so special, the only people she ever shared it with were you and your father.

“it smells good,” yoongi murmured, his eyes glued to your frame as you carefully removed the pot off the stove, turning the heat off. you smiled to yourself as you retrieved a bowl from the csbinet above, “thanks.” never had you tried the recipe out for yourself, it was your first time and you were determined to make it work.

he waited patiently as you scooped the stew out, dumping it into the bowl. he watched your every move, from the way you pushed the loose strands of your hair away from your forehead, to how you carried the bowl with grace he swore was there. the stew was served with a bowl of rice for him, and a side of radishes. you heaved a sigh as you sat next to him, hands sore. everything was there, picture perfect for him, but he kept his focus on you.

“well,” you urged. “go on, then.” only then did his gaze drop. he stared at the red liquid, allowing the spicy scent to grace his nostrils. it was comforting, and all too familiar to him. the scent itself sent a sharp jab to his chest, he was too familiar with it.

his suspicions didn't ease as he scooped a spoonful of the stew, he had reached a new level of excitement. you analyzed him carefully, hoping for a promising reaction. it was exactly what you were going to get. “holy shit,” he uttered out, his mouth full. his instincts hadn't failed him, the scent was familiar and the taste only confirmed what he had been thinking. “is this your recipe?” for a second, you hesitated, but shook your head. “no,” you assured softly. “it was my mother's, why? is it any good?”

the answer itself was all too obvious as he continued to fill his mouth with the product, swallowing within seconds just to help himself some more. it was as if he hadn't eaten in years. “it's amazing,” he praised, and your face lit up. you couldn't help but smile as he neared the end of the bowl. “it tastes exactly the one my step-dad used to make.” you were skeptical, as there was no way that was possible, but took the compliment.

“generational recipe,” you explained, a twinge of grief to your voice. “it was all we ate when winter came along.” the memories weren't as pleasant as the taste itself; you found yourself recalling the days there truly wasn't anything else to eat, but you never complained. you never got tired of the taste.

yoongi seemed to notice the way your tone shifted, even while draining what was left of the meal. “i get it,” was what he found himself saying. at first, you thought it was just empty comforting. “the cold took a toll on us, too. fucking hate the winter.” out of all people, you never imagined opening up to min yoongi, let alone him opening up to you. let alone him understanding you. for a second, there was nothing but silence, and the way you found yourself staring at him. you had been looking at him with the same eyes since you've met him, but this time was different. this time, you looked at each other in a way you never have before.

in a split second, the moment had passed. your phone had started to ring again, and you found yourself cursing whoever it was. taehyung, probably. you swore you'd kill him if it was him pestering you again, but it wasn't. your screen flashed, reading “no caller id” in white, bold letters. yoongi shot you a concerning glance going unnoticed as you excused yourself, leaving the room.

once you were a room away from yoongi, you answered the call with a simple, “hello?” you didn't know exactly what you were expecting to hear, nor who. maybe someone had the wrong number, or it was a spam caller. you had your list of possibilities and expectations, all but one. “(y/n)? is it you?” the voice on the other line was deep, scratchy, rough. above all else, it was familiar. the second you heard it, your blood ran cold and your heart grew weak. it had never crossed your mind, so you refused to believe it was happening. “yes,” you responded weakly, weary of your roommate in the other room. “who is this?”

in the back of your mind, you knew exactly who it was. you could see his face, and you could hear his voice. you had done your best, for years on end, to block it from your memory, but to no avail. “(y/n), you know exactly who this is,” he said, voice all but steady. your fingers quivered, breathing heavy as you did your best to keep it together. “please, sweetheart. i'm back at the house, where's your mother? where are you? come over, we have to talk.” and for a split second, the room was silent. you couldn't muster up the words you so badly needed to say, not while you blood was hot, not while your head was heavy. the shock had finally turned to anger, and you couldn't deal with it.

“you asshole,” you finally breathed out, your eyes stinging with tears that threatened to spill. “you have some fucking nerve, you asshole.” it was all that was going through your head—asshole, asshole, asshole. how could he possibly have the courage, after so long?

from the other line, your father heaved a sigh, as if symapthetic. almost as if he was ashamed. “honey, i know i'm the last person you wanna hear from right now—” you had reached your limit, patience growing thin. you knew being rational wasn't an option, not with your knees threatening to give out from under you. “she's dead, you son of a bitch,” your voice was barely above a whisper. finally, he went quiet. it was your turn to talk. “she's dead and it's all your fault, dead. she's dead, you left her, and she's dead.”

so badly did you want to keep it together, but it was no use. your whispering had gone an octave up, hands furiously quivering as the tears came running down your face. your lips were swollen, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat as you failed against the sobs that were escaping from your throat. “i'm sorry,” were the words that finished you off. with a sob, you finally hung up. you should've done it the second you heard his voice, but it was too late. his words echoed in your head, even as you tossed your phone onto the floor, ignoring the sound of fatal cracks. you couldn't keep it together, you couldn't hold it in.

he had watched the whole scene unfold, much to your dismay. you realized it the second you held your head up. tears spilled from your eyes, and you were finally falling apart. yoongi stood there, just feet away. he stared, his eyes wide with shock as he watched you. something had awoken in him as he watched the way you held your face in your hands, sobs rocking your body. he watched you, but not for long. not wall you were so close to collapsing.

your legs were about to give out, but they never did. you were falling, but never did you hit the ground. he was right there, right beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so that you wouldn't fall. never in your life had you felt more grateful, more safe. you held onto the fabric of his shirt, and he didn't dare let go of you. you were fragile. in that moment, you were on the verge of breaking, and he wasn't going to let it happen. so, he pulled you close. his arms were wrapped around your frame, hand on the back of your head as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck.

he could feel the way you shook under his touch, and it broke his heart. his heart hurt for you. gentle strokes were delivered to your hair as he hushed you, and all you could do was cry. he didn't stop, not until your sobs died down. “was that your dad?” was what he finally asked, careful with his words as to not worsen the situation. all you could do was nod, and it was enough for him to keep quiet. all he could do was hold you, and that was exactly what he did. it was the comfort you had been longing for.

when you had finally calmed down, when the embrace had broken, you didn't know what to think. you cursed yourself for succumbing to your emotions as quickly as you did, you cursed yourself for breaking down. it made you wonder, what was it that made you feel so safe with him? what was it that made your heart flutter, that put your mind at ease? you were no fool, all you needed to do was remember what was engraved in your mind—cold as ice, hard as stone. never choose men over being alone. it was what had kept you afloat for so long, but it wasn't what was in your heart. it wasn't what made you feel safe, not the way you did with him.

he found himself cursing the way he found himself acting with you. it was unlike him, it was out of character for him. why, all of a sudden? why was he coming to your rescue, eating your meals? why was the urge to protect you stronger than the urge to protect his pride? it was all he thought about, why was it different with you? he didn't like different, different meant unfamiliar. he didn't like how vulnerable he was with you, how safe he felt with you. he never played safe, why start? why risk it all? he needed a distraction, and he was determined to find it.

thankfully, he knew just where to look. that night, you had gone to sleep earlier than usual, with only one thing on your mind. what had happened that day replayed in your head, but only the part you wanted to think about. him. you fell asleep thinking about him, dreading how quiet it was without his presence. he wasn't far, just two dorms over.

“hey,” he greeted almost the second the door opened, as if he was in a rush. he allowed himself to come in, despite the several yelps of disapproval. “got too much on my mind, needed to see you.” he didn't need to do anything, all he wanted was to be distracted. so, he did it the only way he knew how.

the girl scoffed, but closed the door behind him. “you should've called. what? you missed me?” the question sent a chill down his spine. no, no, no. it's what he so badly wanted to say. he didn't miss her, he didn't want her. he didn't need her the way he needed you, but he didn't want to need you. he didn't want to need anybody. to him, everybody was unreliable. everybody was waiting to ruin him. he knew he was making a mistake, but he was ready. above all else, he was ready.

“take your clothes off,” he uttered out. “and you'll see how much i missed you.”

the following morning, you had gotten up earlier than you wanted to. the basket of dirty clothes had filled up again, and someone had to take care of it. when you opened your eyes, yoongi was nowhere to be found. it made you get up faster than usual, panic coursing through your veins as you searched for him. he wasn't there. while you were in your feet, headed towards the basket, he still wasn't there. you tried to calm yourself down, assuring yourself he'd walk through the door soon enough. this time, you were right.

as you picked the basket up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. he had finally come home, just before seven in the morning. he seemed tired, as if he had got done running a marathon. the tiresome expression switched to a look of shock the second he saw you. for a moment, all you did was look at each other. “where've you been?” you finally broke the silence. the question should have been expected, but he didn't know how to answer. how could he, after everything? he gulped, thinking of what to say. so, he did what he did best. he lied.

“drinking with dongwon,” the lie came out smoother than intended, smooth enough for your worries to falter. you only nodded in response. he felt awful for lying, why do it in the first place? you had seen him in much more promiscuous situations with a variety of women, what was the issue now? he knew he couldn't, not after yesterday—after everything. his eyes shifted to the basket in your hands. “taking the clothes down to the washer?” again, all you could do was nod. you had nothing to say, you were just glad he was alright. “would you take this, too?” you watched him gesture to the shirt he had on, and complied.

all you could do was stand there as he peeled his collared shirt off, it was best not to look, but oh so difficult. desperate to ditch the embarrassment, you placed the shirt into the basket, and brushed past him.

the minute you left the room, once again did he curse himself. once time, for what he did. “fuck,” was all he could say.

the washing machine belonged to the campus, and students were free to use it as much as they needed to. people had grown more aware of how challenging it was for students to make it on their own while studying, so they did their best to help. you wanted to make a quick trip, shoving the clothes into the machine as fast as you could, but something caught your eye. all of the clothes in the bin had been worn over and over again, all but yoongi's shirt. he had a different outfit on the previous day, but came back wearing a new shirt. you had presumed it was stained with alcohol, but decided to check, just in case.

maybe things had gotten out of hand while he was drinking, but you didn't remember seeing any stains. the shirt itself was clean, from what you could tell. white stained easily. it wasn't until your hands pulled the collar upwards, did you see what the problem really was. at first, you ignored the pungent smell. the shirt reeked of cheap, fruity perfume that lit your nostrils up, and it made your stomach churn. maybe dongwon had a few girls over to drink with them, it was what you hoped for. why did it matter? it had nothing to do with you. it would've been the best case, but it wasn't. you realized it wasn't the moment you lifted the collar.

the rim of the collar was stained with lipstick. bright pink lipstick. the sight of it made your heart fall, you practically felt it in your stomach. “asshole,” you breathed out, fingers clutching the fabric. you didn't know why it made you so upset, you didn't know why the sight of it made you so angry. why was he lying about it? it wasn't the first time, and you believed it wouldn't be the last. it was all you could think about, and it hurt more than you wanted it to.

you had spent the following weeks ignoring yoongi as best as you could. unfortunately, living with him didn't make it easier for you. you did your best, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal. weeks passed, and you still didn't know why it hurt you as much as it did. you couldn't bare talking to him, afraid of lashing out. losing your temper, everything you had strived for so long.

he had noticed a shift in the atmosphere from that point on, brushing it off at first. maybe you were just having a bad day, is what he had been telling himself the first few days. those days quickly turned into weeks, and nothing was the same. his comments were ignored, even his provocations and jokes. his questions were answered abruptly and coldly. he dismissed the idea of you figuring out what he had done, as he believed there was no way for you to find out, but nothing explained the way you were acting. not even the smoking and closed windows bothered you anymore.

you spent as much time with taehyung as you possibly could. if you had classes, you'd attend them alone and in silence. all your free time was spent with taehyung, not that he minded. he was the only person you told what happened, from start to finish. you told him everything, even the bits he already knew, like what happened at the party.

“you like him, don't you?” he asked the question you had been so scared of facing, let alone answering. you tried to play it off as a joke, laughing it off, but never answering. he watched you carefully, a frown on his face. he didn't need an answer, he knew it just as well as you did. you liked him. he didn't know where to go from there, all he could do was watch you, and every move of yours gave him his answer. you couldn't keep the eye contact, your fingers toyed with your hair as you stayed quiet. he knew you liked him.

that night, he thought about it. he thought about it so much, he found himself standing outside with yoongi, in the cold air. he thought about it so much, he found himself with one of yoongi's cigarettes between his lips. there was something off about him, yoongi saw it. taehyung, who was once one of his closest friends, had grown cold, hostile. taehyung didn't pay mind to how his behavior had grown strange, he only had one thing on his mind.

“she knows,” were the words that broke the silence. yoongi froze, cigarette burning between his lips. he stayed silent, couldn't say a thing. “she knows you fucked that girl.” yoongi scoffed, but he couldn't ignore how fast his heart was pounding. the increasing anxiety wasn't detectable, he did his best to ignore it. “don't know what you're talking about.”

now, it was taehyung's turn to scoff. he didn't make eye contact with his friend, taking a drag of his cigarette as he stared into the night sky. “you're a pussy,” his words finally got the attention he was looking for. “she's this great girl, y'know? she's this beautiful, smart girl and she likes you. and i wish i knew why. but, hey, what do you know? you like her, you like this great girl, but you're too big of a pussy to do anything about it.”

“you don't know shit,” yoongi practically spat at him, too defensive for his own good. he faced his friend, but taehyung remained stoic. in his heart, yoongi knew every bit of it was true. he only returned the stance as he neared the end of his cigarette, throwing it onto the ground beneath him and stepping over it. “you're right, i don't know shit,” taehyung spat back. “you like each other, but don't do shit about it. fuck around with her some more, 'till she realizes she can do better than you.” those were the last words taehyung said to him, before walking away. it took everything in him to not punch yoongi in the face, because he so desperately needed to. he wanted him to realize what was in front of him, he wanted him to realize how lucky he was.

once again, yoongi was left alone. in his heart, he knew every word of it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it. it was something he needed to do, but he didn't want to. he wanted to live in his bubble, with his heart closed off to anyone but him. he needed to be selfish, because it was all he knew, but as the night grew colder and harsher, he knew it wasn't what he wanted to do.

you found yourself in your bed once more, but you couldn't fall asleep. your mind wouldn't shut off, and it pissed you off. you and yoongi had gone another day without speaking, and the silence killed you. he wasn't there, and all you could think about was where he was. you let out a dry laugh, thinking history would be funny enough to repeat itself—maybe he really was out there, wetting his dick again.

that possibility lost some of its credibility when the doorknob began to budge again. like clockwork, you found yourself watching him come in. this time, he was home early, it wasn't even midnight. for a second, you locked eyes. it was quiet, you didn't dare say a word, but you couldn't not look at him. he looked at you, admiring how pretty you were, even at your worst. even with your hair messy, lips swollen, eyes beaming with exhaustion—there was no way you couldn't look good. something in that moment had clicked, and the silence was broken.

“i fucked her,” definitely wasn't the best choice of words, but he needed something to clear the air with. still, you remained quiet, only raising your eyebrows in response. you knew, he knew you knew. “i fucked her and it was a shitty thing to do. i knew it then, and i know it now.”

you stayed quiet, the empathy currently drained from your heart. how could you feel for him? “i fucked her because i needed a way to distract myself,” he paused. “from you. i'm feeling shit i've never felt, and i'm scared of feeling it. when i'm scared, i run. it's all i've ever been doing.”

he stood there, voice steady despite how honest he was trying to be. for a second, you almost understood him. you knew what it was like, running from the same feeling your entire life. it was exactly what you were taught, but never could you have done to anybody what he had done to you. “i really hope she was worth it,” you whispered, just about loud enough for him to hear. she wasn't, he knew she wasn't. she had cost him everything, and he knew there was no coming back from it.

not much had changed as the weeks flew by. nothing but the weather. the colder the weather had gotten, the more hostile you found yourself acting. not just with yoongi, but in general. even with taehyung, you found yourself snapping just to apologize seconds later. he understood, he was patient with you. once it had started to snow, you spent more time inside than outside. seeing the fluffy, white flakes coat the ground was enough for you to get a frostbite. you spent the inside of the campus has truly become a sanctuary, until you and yoongi had started to cross paths once more.

it was only because he had been staying inside just as much. the minute he had woken up to the sight of white, it was official. he didn't even bother looking at the windows, let alone taking a step outside. he only smoked indoors, kept his friends close indoors.

your anger had finally faltered as the time passed, but you and yoongi never really spoke. you had both hoped that whatever it was you were feeling would finally fade, that it was a temporary occurence. you both prayed that one day you'd wake up, and feel nothing for the other. that day never came.

though you had finally made peace with the situation and gained your composure, the weather had lost its. everything up until then had been child's play, with the outside world freezing, but the inside providing comfort. nobody had really expected the drastic change, so nobody was prepared. when the night in question rolled around, it was brutal.

a snowstorm was in the process of unfolding. those who were able to deal with it, dealed by hiding under the covers. the wind rocked the windows, it was brutal. no matter the force, nobody was able to shut them. all the wind did was fight back. the wind howled as flakes of white scattered the dorms, the cold air practically violent. it was the reason you had found yourself on the couch, away from the windows. you were doing your best to ignore it, to block the familiar sounds from your mind. the noises were messing with your head, and the brutal cold brought memories you had no interest in re-living.

your breathing escalated, and all you could do was fight back the tears, reassuring yourself under your breath. you shut yours eyes tight, hoping everything would go quiet. just for a second. it never did. at one point, the howling had started to die down, but the air only grew colder. a new sound had graced your ears, but it wasn't the wind. it wasn't the wind howling. from the corner of your eye, you could spot the source.

yoongi had problems of his own, having taken the spot right next to the window. the covers on the bed offered no comfort, not while everything was unfolding right next to him. the cold was bitter, so unfamiliarly cruel as he rocked himself under the sheets. it was the most unstable he had ever felt, as he bit back his cries, wary of you just feet away from him. he muffled his sobs, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. he hated it, it was killing him.

you listened carefully, unsure of what you were listening to. ever the curious one, you pushed yourself onto your feet, with the blanket engulfing you. he was facing the opposite side, and you were absolutely sure the sounds were coming from him, the closer you grew to him. as you got closer, you could make out the sounds better. you were right, it wasn't the wind howling. you could recognize the crying all too well.

“yoongi,” it was the first time you had spoken to him in a long time. your voice rang like a melody, offering him the slightest comfort amidst everything else. slowly, he found himself turning towards you. as he did, you saw everything much clearer, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were swollen, lips puffy, his cheeks slick with tears. “yoongi, are you okay?”

he shook his head, and you couldn't hide the panic in your voice. despite everything, you knew you cared. you cared, he cared. hearing you was almost enough to block everything else out. it was enough for him to ignore how vulnerable he truly was in that moment, and he knew he had reached peak vulnerability. “i fucking hate winter,” he croaked out. all you could do was nod, you nodded and it pained you because you hated it, too. you hated how it took everything from you. “took my dad from me, it was too cold.” you could barely make out what he was saying, but you couldn't believe what you were able to hear. it made your heart sink, and you knew what followed was inevitable.

“it's okay, i promise,” your heart was racing as you sat on the bed, right next to him. cold, he was so cold. despite the blankets, he was freezing. “took my mom from me, yoongi. i get it, i promise i get it.” tears in your eyes threatened to match his own as his expression flashed with shock. it wasn't something you expected to hear from anyone, let alone him. “so fucking cold,” he finally whispered, and you realized just how bad he had it. you realized just how alike you were, so you finally did something so unlike the either of you.

you were careful with your actions, even if they weren't thought through. with a sniffle, you pulled the covers up. not enough to expose him to the cold more than he already had been, but enough to make room. you made enough room and, to his astonishment, you crawled in. you moved into the spot next to him, and neither of you moved. it was unlike any warmth either of you had felt before, none of the covers in the world had anything on the warmth felt in that moment.

you stared at each other with sore, puffy eyes. he watched you with soft eyes, sniffles dying down the minute you were next to him. you were perfect. more perfect than you've ever been. he was hesitant, but he found himself pulling you in. you were just as hesitant, but you found yourself scooting closer to him. nothing mattered anymore. the air surrounding you was still cold, it still hurt, but it was like his body had grown a new mind of its own. his fingers traced the side of your face, pushing strands of your hair away from your eyes. he needed to see you, all of you, and he did. you had never been closer, and you couldn't get enough of it. he was like a furnace to you, even though you were the one warming him. from the inside out.

“i love you,” he finally whispered, and neither of you looked away. he knew he couldn't take back what he said, the same way he knew how much he meant it. the words were foreign, they were words you hadn't heard in a long time. finally, you smiled. “i love you, too.” the shock that spread through his body couldn't be mimicked. for the first time in a long while, he smiled. he smiled back, and it was a genuine smile. one that wasn't provoked by teasing and joking, nothing of the sort. he hadn't been loved in a long time.

the wind stayed consistent, but nothing mattered anymore. it was as if a barrier had formed around the two of you, one that unapologetically emitted the warmest, kindest comfort imaginable. yoongi found himself moving closer to you, if possible, and you knew what was coming. you knew, and you were prepared. you loved him, you hated the cold, and you could never be what you despised the most, so you let him.

with his hand ever so gently in your hair, you allowed yourself to come closer, until the distance finally faltered. his lips pressed against yours, something he had found himself dreaming about for too long. your lips melted, colliding so gently, he swore they were made for each other. he had kissed a countless amount of women, but never like that. every ounce of regret left your body, and all you could do was kiss back. it was what you wanted more than anything. you wanted him.

he stroked your arm gently, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, sending shivers of a different kind down your spine. you looked up at him, feeling your heart race a little faster as you thought about what you wanted to say. he was so warm, so solid and comforting, and you felt a sudden rush of love for him that was almost overwhelming. you took a deep breath and whispered, “i've never done this before.” his eyes searched yours, understanding and patience in their depths. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “that's okay,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “we'll take it slow.”

the room was filled with a tension that was both nerve-wracking and exciting as you both realized the gravity of the moment. you felt a blush spread across your cheeks, but yoongi just held you tighter, his eyes filled with nothing but affection and reassurance.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he said, “but are you sure?” his question hung in the air, the only sound the soft rustle of the covers and the muffled sounds of the winter night outside. you nodded, feeling your pulse quicken. “i'm sure,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

yoongi pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. finding none, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand moving from your arm to cup your cheek. the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you both became lost in the moment. the bed dipped slightly as he shifted his weight, moving to adjust himself beside you, his hand still cradling your face. his eyes searched yours, asking for permission, and you gave it with a shy nod.

he started to kiss your neck, his lips feather-light as they moved down to your collarbone. you felt his hand slowly make its way down your body, and your breath hitched in anticipation. the cold outside was forgotten as the heat between you grew, a warmth that seemed to drive away every other concern. his touch was gentle, exploratory, as if he was learning every inch of you. you felt your body respond, your heart racing and your skin tingling where he touched. his fingers traced the line of your jaw, then moved to the hem of your shirt, his thumbs hooking under the fabric.

you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head, the cool air of the room making you shiver again. but as soon as the shirt was off, his warmth was back, his chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes, only to make another appearance, fondling your tits in a way so gentle, even he couldn't believe it. he listened to your soft moans, and it took everything in him to resist pounding you right then and there. the snow continued to fall outside, casting a serene, silent backdrop to the intimate scene unfolding in the warmth of the bedroom. the only sounds were the soft rustle of the covers and the steady beat of two hearts, in sync with each other.

his eyes never left yours as he reached for the button of your pants, his gaze filled with a mix of love and lust. you felt a thrill of excitement and nerves as he undid the button, then the zipper, his hands moving with purpose and care. he slid your pants down, revealing your bare legs to the cool air. you felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your stomach, making you gasp.

the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling with a mix of cold and desire. yoongi took his time, his kisses like a warm embrace against the winter's chill. he reached your navel, and your hips instinctively arched towards him. his eyes never left yours, as if asking for confirmation at every step.

he gently pushed your legs apart, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made you feel cherished. his hand trailed down your inner thigh, and your skin burned with every touch. when his fingers finally reached the place where no one else had been before, you tensed, but his soft, reassuring whispers kept you relaxed. with a feather-light touch, he began to explore, his movements slow and deliberate. each caress against your soaking pussy sent waves of pleasure through you, and your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned softly. the cold air was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his body and the gentle pressure of his hand.

“fuck, princess, so wet for me,” he murmured, his dick painfully hard, practically begging for you.

as he touched you, he watched your reactions closely, learning what made you gasp, what made you shiver with pleasure. his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. but all he saw was a deep, unspoken trust that made his heart swell with love. you felt your body responding to his touch, and you reached for him, your hands shaking slightly as you pulled his shirt over his head. his skin was hot against your palms, and you traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

the snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside muffled and distant. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his skin under your hands, and the love that was growing stronger with every shared moment.

as he pulled his boxers down, you realized just how unprepared you really were. he could stretch you out as much as he wanted, it still couldn't prepare you for what caught your eye. he was big, and he knew it. he was big and throbbing against the flesh of his abdomen, and a you could do was stare. “it's not gonna fit,” you whispered. despite his laugh, your words only made him harder. the thought of you, so small and fragile under him, breaking because of his cock—it made him desperate for you. yoongi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “you'll take it, yeah?” you nodded, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. he kissed you again, deep and slow, as if trying to imprint every sensation on your soul. you felt him shift, the bed protesting slightly under his weight as he positioned himself above you. he reached for the condom on the nightstand, his movements sure and practiced. but his eyes never left yours, filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its intensity.

you felt his hard, pulsing cock against your entrance and it was enough to make you gasp. he let out a sigh, the sight of you so vulnerable for him enough to make him cum on the spot. as he entered you, the world outside disappeared, replaced by the feeling of him filling your pussy up, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the room. it was a moment of pain, quickly overshadowed by a deeper, more profound sensation of belonging. you held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his rhythm gentle and steady. each stroke was a promise of forever, a declaration of love in the most primal and intimate way possible.

“so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groaned, eyes flashing between the way your pussy sucked him up, so pretty and greedy, and the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, pure pleasure. you and yoongi moved together, each stroke bringing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, your hearts pounding in unison as you climbed higher and higher. and when you finally fell over the edge, you came all over him. “just like that, all over my dick.”

you were overwhelmed, the foreign feeling gracing you with an irreplaceable euphoria you've so badly been craving. he leaned forward, capturing your lips in yet another messy kiss, his hands erratic. they moved as fast as they could, savoring the way your tits felt in them, the way your fleshy thighs spilled out of them. as he pounded into you, a you could do was moan into his mouth. “so good, fuck, yoongi,” the sound of his name leaving your mouth in such a dirty position was enough to send him over the edge.

he was desperate, his hips slamming into your pelvis as his dick brushed your sweet spot. your walls squeezed him, practically milking him for all he had to offer. his groans grew louder as he neared his high, his thrusts sending your eyes into the back of your head as he savored you. you were all his. “gonna cum, fuck,” he moaned, and he was right. he came with a groan, lost in the way you moaned for him, foreheads pressed against each other. he came into the condom, his dick throbbing into your cunt as he did so. it was good, so good.

when he finally pulled out, you did nothing but stare into each other's eyes. you knew that you had just shared something incredibly special, something that would change everything. but as you looked into his eyes, you also knew that no matter what was to come, you would face it together, wrapped in the warmth of your love, and it was stronger than any storm.

“i love you,” this time, it was your turn to say it. for a second, the fear of him leaving, discarding you like you meant nothing to him, like you were just another girl, became present. you weren't just another girl, you never were. “i love you, too.” it was enough, more than enough. how could you ever be just another girl? he alone wasn't strong enough against the cold, not without you.

✧.*

a/n: i hope this does well because this cliché took so long to write lol!! if it does, i'll do a follow-up, as there's a lot of unfinished business haha. only if it's what the readers want. thank you for reading!!!

Wanted to say that I’m so happy you’re back!! 🫶

i missed you so much omg thought about u while i was away 😩

idk who needs to hear this but do NOT trust that man!!! idc how good he's treating you babes he is NOT the one. matter a fact NONE of them are!! all of these men are bops bc tell me why i've been talking to this hoe for 3 months. he got out of a bad break up bc his girl fucked around behind his back and they broke up. they were tg for a year hello. anyways this loser spent the last month talking abt sum i love you i want you to meet my parents omg you'd be the first to meet them. let's go to the same college i told all my friends about you i'll block any girl you want all i wanna do is spoil you omg. everything's all fine and dandy until this man says out of the bluest of blues “i can't see myself in this relationship i'm sorry and i'm not over my last one” i'm sorry? you're 5'3 on a good day and the jawline is much giving trapezoid family. like 5 hours ago you wanted me to birth your children? do NOT trust these hoes!!!

i've been inactive for a good 3 years...taking requests tho 🔥🔥🔥