A trail of expensive cars greets you at Hannam Hill. It doesn't immediately hit you that this line leads to the small gathering at Yoongi's place. The events of yesterday have sapped every good feeling out of you. But I can't be hopeless. I can still get things back on track, right Y/N? For once, your self-talk fails. There's just silence inside you. It is not until you're inside the hall at the mansion that you notice that the so-called close gathering of Yoongi's birthday isn't that small. There are at least a hundred people huddled in many groups under the dim lighting. You notice the Bangtan Boys here and there, a few producers and executives that you recognize, but most people are unknown to you.

"Y/N!" Namjoon's familiar voice reaches you. He looks dapper as usual in a navy suit.

"Aw hey, Namjoon," you reply, mustering up your regular cheery self. You exchange small talk, letting him lead the conversation. You absently smoothen your dress. The top is sheer black, giving a glimpse of the corset inside. You were quite in love with this look but tonight nothing seems to matter. You're almost guilty that you're in this mood on his birthday. Thinking of, you can't see Yoongi anywhere.

Namjoon notices your eyes searching the place. "He's upstairs - don't tell anyone though."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

He chuckles. "You'll see. For now, the story is that he was here for a while and now he's not," he pauses while you nod, "and the staircase is on the back of the fountain."

Count on Min Yoongi to install a full-fledged fountain in his home. You had a feeling that underneath his everything-is-gonna-end-one-day vibe, was hidden a rather fancy taste. But then, he doesn't live here much, does he? He's mostly at HYBE or the dorm. Upstairs, you wonder which door to take. Hesitant to cross the balcony that would put you in full view of the people below, you try the first door near the staircase.

It's a fairly large living room with bookshelves, a couch, and a grand piano, all shrouded in semi-darkness. You take a few tentative steps in. The night view of the Han River from the French windows is glorious. It doesn't look like anyone's in, but you call out his name in a whisper just to be sure.

"Min Yoongi? Are you here? No? Ok," you turn to leave. But the door you came from is already almost shut. Leaning next to it is the familiar figure of Yoongi. He's in a simple black suit, plain white shirt, and bow tie is hanging undone around his collar. He's changed his hair back to black, although the length is still longish like before. But it is the way he's looking at you that makes you go weak in the knees. No smirk, no smile, just a lazy gaze fixed on you from the shadows.

He enjoys how flustered you get when you notice him a little late. Not that he's sneaky around you on purpose. He's just sneaky in general - it helps him avoid people. He wants to ask you if something is bothering you - because you look more worried than you should. There's so much more he wants to say but all he is able to do is stare.

You had planned to wish him with a warm friendly hug. But right now, there was nothing friendly about the tension between you both. You'd end up kissing that smirk off his lips. The events of the last two days might be making you more reckless than you usually are, but you push that realisation away from your head and take a step towards him. He reciprocates with two, finally coming out from the shadows with pantherlike grace. That's when you notice the bottle in his left hand and stop dead.

Oh hell no.

You're not sleeping with him while you're sober and he's drunk. The last thing you want is to be a part of a moment he ends up regretting the next morning. You grimace before finally greeting him,

"Hey, Yoongi," your voice is soft.

"Hey, Y/N," he replies in an equally low voice. He's still a few steps away from you. He smiles ever so slightly and bows, "thank you for coming tonight."

The tension decreases a notch as you both think the same thing - life feels a lot easier when you're around.

You hold it in and take a chance. "Happy birthday," you say and do what you originally meant to do - embrace him.

He hugs you back, pulling you closer than he's ever done. He's so warm - the whole of him against the whole of you. It's relaxing and exciting at the same time. You rest your cheek against his shoulder for a while. Neither of you has the intention of letting go anytime soon.

"Why are you hiding and drinking alone on your birthday?" you ask in his ear.

He chuckles right into your neck. "I sound like a loser when you phrase it like that."

"Seriously, you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just a birthday thing. It's hard enough sometimes - facing myself, but on top of that all these people, offline-online everywhere - it's stressful. I mean, yay, gratitude, thanks. But it's too much, Y/N, too much for one person sometimes..."

There's a pause. His nose brushes your bare neck, sending a wave of sparks across your body. You rest your chin on his shoulder before speaking again.

"It's okay. Don't forget that all - and I mean all - these people do have a life and you're a very, very tiny part of it," you laugh when you realise how strange a consolation that is, "I mean - you're a big part of some people's lives, worry only about those who are good for you, who you wanna keep..."

He locks his arms around your lower back.

"You're right about that - the tiny part thing..." he chuckles. "Except for those who plan to sell my body online..." he adds darkly.

You don't respond immediately. What happened that day was messed up. Sure, things worked out for the best. It didn't change the fact that he was almost attacked and it wasn't something he could predict or control.

"Yoongi?" you whisper in his ear.

"Hmm?" Unbeknownst to you, he's shut his eyes now. This hug is peaceful.

"You're safe, you know..."

You sense him shift against your neck, not realising how powerfully that phrase makes him feel. Oh, it's not like you've made a promise. He knows that life is unpredictable that way. Someone's here one day, and then they're not. But tonight, in this moment, it reminds him of everyone who does love him and those who, although may not know him, is still positive and supportive. And that he isn't responsible for everyone else's feelings.

He breathes in deeply before murmuring, "thank you."

"For what?"

He doesn't answer. Meanwhile, you conclude that you need to even out this drunk situation and add, "give me that bottle."

Both of you finally break apart, though you still stand pretty close. He hands you the bottle of rum while noticing the small box in your hand.

"Aw is that for me?"

"Oh this - yeah. Mind you, it's very special," you thrust the box into his coat pocket rather than handing it to him. Then, you push him away playfully. He's got that mischievous glint in his eyes, but he doesn't do anything.

"Let's sit by the window," you say.

You settle down side by side, passing the bottle after a swig each, silently taking in the twinkling view in front of you. The alcohol burns. It isn't diluted enough, but you relish the feeling. You're reminded of a similar night view when you both went to Daegu. That night couldn't be more different than this one.

"Aish...seriously?" Suga's voice tears you away from your memories into the present. He's looking incredulously at the contents of his birthday gift.

"Oi. Appreciate it. This is your OG marshmallow dessert - from the plant, not - gelatin or whatever," you add while taking a swig of rum.

"Ah..." he puts one piece in his mouth. Tilting his head slightly he remarks, "can't say it tastes better though."

"Oh. They don't even make these anymore. I had a French chef dig up a two-hundred-year-old recipe -" you glance at the white confectionary with wonder.

"On second thoughts it does taste - vintage," Suga says. He's looking at you just the way you're looking at the marshmallows in the box. You are weird, he concludes. Getting a two-hundred-year-old recipe made as a joke and for him - neither is worth the trouble in his opinion. The words are out of his mouth before he can procrastinate saying them again -

"Nan nega cheongmal chuha, aljanha..."

It takes about five seconds for your newly tipsy brain to understand that statement. I like you a lot, you know.

"What do you mean?" you laugh, unsure where this is going.

He continues to talk in Korean,

"I like the effect you have on me. I can relax, let go of everything. And fuck," he straightens up to face you, "I want to do things to - I mean for you. To you too. It's strange. Not the - physical thing. But the butterflies. The way you awe me. The way a voice in my head screams that I shouldn't let you go."

Your mouth is slightly open. What. The. Fuck.

"You can't understand Korean yet, can you?"

You shake your head real quick.

He nods, "good..." and then he glances outside the window. His tone is soft when speaks again, "I thought I was too old to like someone like this. But I don't know - maybe I'm tired of the way my life is right now. Maybe that's why I want to dance with you, travel with you - you know - I wish to have a kid one day -"

You had just brought the bottle to your lips - you choke hard at the last phrase, but he carries on completely oblivious to the fact you are able to understand every single word.

"- it's dumb isn't it? I knew I would want to slow down one day. I didn't think that day would come so soon. Thirty. Twenty-nine for you. I feel so old."

He takes the opportunity of a pause to lie back on the floor.

"You wanna have kids with me?" you ask in English.

"I'd start by asking you out," he replies, still in Korean.

"Yeah but I don't understand Korean. You gotta do it in English..." The alcohol is getting to you too. You lie down next to him.

"I know. I'm not ready - no - I just don't know if I - if this is a good idea. For me. For you. And what if you don't feel the way I do? What if I say the wrong thing? I could write it in a song but I can't put it in a sentence, Y/N. I'm anxious about this like I'm fucking thirteen. But I still needed to say it out aloud. At least once."

Your brain is simply refusing to process this. It's too much shock for one day. True, you suspected that he did have a bit of a thing for you. But a wholesome crush? And what the fuck does he mean by if this is a good idea for me. That hurts.

"It makes sense," he continues in such a low voice that you have to move closer to hear him, "you're in the industry so you know what it's like for us - the pressure, the demands. You're as level headed as anyone I've ever met. Fucking rare you - even Imo approves of you,"

"Eh?" Your head is spinning.

"Though she was peeved that you're not Korean..."

He's closed his eyes. You suspect he's dozing off.

"Imo, what...?"

"Imo, at the chicken shop that day, after what you did..." he speaks softly.

You stare at him. He looks peaceful, vulnerable and almost happy. There was time when you could have laughed at how seriously he's taking something that may not even work out. But you recognize exactly the kind of insecurity that drives someone to think this much even before dating someone.

You've got a powerful urge to protect him. To have him all to yourself.

"Quite the old-school romantic, aren't you, Yoongi," you whisper.

He chuckles. Eyes still shut. "I'm pretty ideal, Y/N,"

"Uhh hmm." you place your index finger where his hair touches the floor. You have an intense desire to air out your own feelings and to put a ring on the whole affair. But you know more than to trust words spoken under influence, and you definitely doubt the overwhelming feeling stirring within yourself - you've had a rough few days. You continue to play absently with a few strands of his hair.

He turns his head, causing his cheek to rest on your palm. In spite of yourself, you run the fingers of your other hand through his hair. And in spite of yourself, you lean in and plant a kiss on his temple, breathing in the sweet smell of alcohol mingled with the familiar sharp cologne.

You try to extract your other palm from under his face as gently as you can, but he shifts his head and murmurs, "don't go, Y/N."

You freeze.

"You were right," he continues in English.

"About what?"

"There's no one lining up to take care of me."

[if you like this story please vote on the chapters and leave a comment or two <3]