[ YOONGI'S P.O.V.]

2 weeks more. 2 weeks pass, maybe even more and so much has happened to me.

I saved the day, held a gun, and riled on brotherhood to manage a safe trip back home. ["Perverted Hero" reference]

Namjoon. Namjoon's girl is back and the child in his ex-fling's uterus grows to be called his. The leader is not only a father-type to the maknae's around him, but now genuinely engrossed with the reality of Jules and baby Kennah coming to be. His girl is saved, they're happier than ever, and I find my interests moving to Jin.

Jin has been gone from the house. He had been stressed and didn't eat for a while. Jimin swore he heard a female's voice in the eldest's room once. It was obvious Jin and his girl (and we all knew he had one) fought, possibly even broke up for good. But knowing the way Jin strutted out today, it was obvious the man wanted her back and was going to make it a possibility.

Jung Hoseok, well—that man's story was a fairy tale ready to be written. Engaged, a father, and now happily functioning as a family, I remember hearing his fiancée come over one night. The same night I snuck out to get to Terin's hotel again. Peering with open ears, the act of possibly having a Yeri#2 seemed to be playing in Hoseok's bedroom.

Speaking of Terin, she was in my life more frequent than ever these past two nights. However, the mornings and days were filled with you and only you. I didn't know why I spent a lot of time over at the new condo, but it felt right to be there—talking, learning, and catering to wider conversations is what I liked best with you. You challenged me, you challenged my mind and beliefs...I found comfort in the ability to debate and grow as an intellectual alongside your hip—on that L-shaped couch of ours.

One thing I always note is how close you get to me,
how close your body heat touches mine,
and how you look at me—
those eyes of yours. Her eyes.

There was a want in your eyes, an admiration, and every time I looked at them and found such a stare, I ran. I cleared my throat and ran with an excuse. This resulted me in still, not taking you out for a tour of the city, and a tour of the building. I could tell you were getting impatient, but my mind shot to avoid and stay in denial.

Her eyes.
That admiration.
Her eyes.
Her eyes.
Guilt guilt guilt.

Here,
here I am now.
Drinking away gulps and gulps of liquor to cleanse my thoughts. I don't want to be thinking about you, nor do I want to be seeing your eyes in the woman I plan to sleep with tonight.

But no matter how much I blink or drink, when I look at Terin next to me, cuddling by my side and kissing my neck, I can't help but think of you. Sighing internally when she hits a sensitive spot near the loop of my earlobe, I wince away.

"That tickles."

Terin smiles, cupping my cheek and kissing my wet lips that drape in nothing but alcohol. "Has anyone told you how adorable you are when drunk?"

I burp in her face. She shrieks away with scolding eyes. "Behave mister."

With a child-ish smile, I sigh and nod before letting my hand slip over the glass bottle I chug. Hearing her swiftly panic before it falls to the floor, Terin takes it and places it at her bedside table. With the rub of my shoulders, she brings me down to the bed underneath her and straddles my lap.

I'm too drunk to get it up, feeling her grind, feeling her lips suck and tease mine. Nothing works, and I snort with cute laughter by her mouth when she pecks away, upper lip twitching in annoyance to the fact that I mistakenly spit in her face. "Sorry," I mumble, adorably sinking into the pillow she has be on.

"It's alright." She kisses me again.

"Wait—" She continues to kiss me.

I grumble, holding her hips and breaking our holds on each other by the arch of my head. "I can't do this. I cannet."

"Funny," she snorts before kissing my neck. I flinch again, giggling like a child feeling the greatest tickle-attack.

"Stop that," I whine, but there is a large drunk smile on my face.

Terin sighs, gets off my lap that does nothing for her, and sits beside me on her bed. "How did you manage to get this piss drunk?"

I laugh, evil and barely audible.

With another exaggerated sigh, she slaps my thigh, ordering for me to sit up. "What did you want to do then?"

"Hm," I pucker my lips, getting to my elbows and slowly grunting before sitting fully up. When I do, I titter at the dizziness I suddenly feel. "I don't know, I want to," I pucker my lips and kiss air, only to laugh again when the air feels to kiss me back, "I want to talko and kisseh the air m-more."

"Have you gotten drunk or gotten high?" Terin laughs, narrowing her eyes and watching me squint my nose together.

With the flick of my fingers, I bring my index finger and my thumb to show the 'little' expression. "I little of both," I burp.

"I don't know what to do with you," she laughs. As she does, I see the light in her eyes fade and the spark of annoyance seep back. I notice it's because of what I sing next.

"My wife wifey wifey wife, I wanna I wanna go to her, please?"

"Yoongi, I can't take you there." Terin's eyes are harsh.

"Pretty please?" I pout.

Most is a blur after that. I keep laughing and bumping into things. I feel my weight balanced on the shoulders of a fully-clothed Terin, but she does nothing to me for help as we both sway and skip about. All I hear is cursing, then she has me in a car, then out the car, then swaying and stumbling again at a different street.

I recognize it, I later come to realize that I've been talking to Terin the whole ride over and have told her where to go...but where she takes my slurring and burning body is where I want. I want this, so I allow her to handle me with force—right up until the door, your door. Her door.

The door opens, and wide eyes meet me. I side-smirk, only to belch loudly as a greeting.

[ YOONGI'S P.O.V. END ]

I hear the burp, I see the glazing in Min Yoongi's eyes, and I notice the stumble. Mouth ajar, I stand inelegantly hugging myself in my long cream nightie, bra gone and air leaving my lungs, when I stare towards the woman who carries my husband. Terin.

With confused eyes, she bitterly smiles my direction and tosses the entire weight of Yoongi in my way. I catch him, he falls on me, and we both stagger back. "Woah~ sorry," he burps and then giggles by my ear again. I guess that's a reoccurrence that will be happening often, for right now at least.

"I-Is he drunk?" I look away from Yoongi who smells the side of my face, and over at Terin who has her hands by her hips, "Terin? What are you—"

"Ask loverboy tomorrow morning," then she smirks and waves at me, seeming to know more than she lets on as she skips away with a flick of her hair, "Let's hope he'll be honest."

My brows furrow deep at that. Self-doubting, weirded-out, and conflicted, before I can ask for much or anything at all, Terin walks away. She walks, and I have no strength to hold Yoongi up and maneuver the door to close—but with a slight push of his chest, I have him stand to his feet and bob, before locking the door and moving towards him again.

Crossing my arms embarrassingly at my chest, I stare up at the man who grins. "Yoongi why are you drunk? Do you have any idea what could've happened if any fans saw you outside? You're not even wearing a mask to cover your identity and you're drunk off your ass I—" My rambling shuts up when Yoongi shushes me and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

The man's chest rumbles in a dark chuckle and he dances his way close to my body. My forehead grazes the bottoms of his chin, making it difficult to look him in the eyes as I try to break away from his grasp.

"Yoongi, why was Terin here?" I ask this softly, glancing over his shoulder and at the door which is now closed. The discomfort in my body spikes every time seeing the woman—each time, I'm transported to the past and re-living the mean behaviours placed onto me as a kid. I go to thinking about Terin, and then Yoongi—all that they both did in high school.

"Boyfriend issues," he mumbles by my face. Nose nuzzling into my cheek making me jump as he kisses my skin, "She...she wants me."

"Wants you?" I ask, trying not to elate in the fact that my cheek now burns with heat, for where his lips once were. "What's going on? What boyfriend issues, I—"

"Shhhh," Yoongi trips to me, placing his finger forcibly and sloppily at my lips that part awkward. His one arm still gathers at my shoulders, bringing my head in a headlock that I'm too shy to escape from; faces closer than close. "I, I don't wanna talko about her—" he burps in my face, "—h-her, I wanna be with you. Talko to me."

"Yoongi," I warn and question softly, eyes narrowing before looking at the door again. There is a huge part to my stomach that doesn't feel right—I may be passive, I may be shy, and I may cry a lot—but being naive to the point of negligence is something I don't practice. So, I ask again, "What's going on with Terin? What's the real reason she was here?"

Yoongi smirks, his teeth poking to bite over his lower lip. Pushing his bangs to my forehead so we're head-to-head, I swallow hard and find myself heating up again when Yoongi's nose intentionally brushes mine. He makes us touch in adorable manners, sexy manners—all in the same, Yoongi makes my heart race.

"I told you already," he coos, staring at my lips and making it obvious what he's looking at, "She wants me."

"Wants you?" I'm repeating myself. My bare legs twitch against another, knees buckling as I struggle to move back. The headlock follows me, along with Yoongi's breath at my neck as he laughs. I try not to wince when he stubs my toes with his shoes occasionally.

Yoongi nods, staring again—I feel hot.

"She wants me but I don'tink I want her."

"What do you mean? Has she tried putting a move on you?"

Yoongi giggles. I don't know how to take that laughter as an answer.

About to question him more, Yoongi whines when I open my mouth only to leave my shoulders, twirl towards the staircase, and wobble with a plop to the first step—ass bruised from the crash he enacts.

"Yoongi," I sigh, shaking my head and agitatedly go to grab him.

As I do, and bring him to his feet, my eyes widen at my tit smashing the side of his face while standing. Shy, with the clear of the throat, I pretend it didn't happen as I help the man up the stairs. But the constant grin he gives, making it clear that he noticed, makes me want to hide away and sink into the warmth I feel at my abdomen.

"That felt...interesting."

"Please shut up," I beg.

"Interesting."

"Yoongi..."

"Interestingggg~" he slurs at my ear, I shiver.

My hair is a mess, my nightie is falling off my shoulders, and I'm breaking a sweat while bringing him up the stairs. Once on top, Yoongi pokes my cheek and thanks me, nudging his hip with mine while performing a little dance towards his room—a room he hasn't stayed in yet.

I genuinely smile when seeing his tiny thin hips shaking dramatically, his drunk state having fun making it into the room. "Bed time!" Yoongi continues to mumble and chant, knowing I'm following him.

"Wait up, will you?" I sound like a scolding parent. I can't help it, I feel worry until he's on the bed and asleep.

I enter the room, turn on the lights, and hold my breath when alcohol hits my face in surprise again. Blinking rapidly to see Yoongi in front of me, he holds my hips, scrunches my nightie into his fists, and pulls me aggressively into his body for a crash. I gasp.

"Wha—"

"You look beautiful."

Cheeks fuming, I catch his gaze fast while trying to handle my chest that presses against his. "Thanks," I lowly gesture, hands hesitantly making it to his stomach—pushing away from his hard, tense body.

His one hand scrunches my nightie high, allowing most of it to move in an up on my naked leg. Trying not to shudder with the new air in the room, goosebumps meet my thighs, but his fingers that dig into my hip distract me to focus only, and only on what Yoongi was heading to: undressing me.

Forehead against mine, I wish to speak but don't as I let him hover over me, having both bodies clash back and land against the wall that holds his childhood mirror. My shoulder blades press to the cold wall, and the sides of my collarbones feel the freeing paper that scrapes my skin; stuck within the slits of the glass.

He breathes me in, eyes slowly finding a close. I don't close my eyes, but flutter them slow, breathing him in with a returning admiration. His chest is even, stable, harshly lustful. Mine is hitching, uneasy, and harshly surprised. I can feel the hardness of his bulge shove like an angry thrashing stick, by my thighs.

Yoongi's smile is sweet when he finds a way to make such an ambush kind—a kiss to my forehead with a sigh that makes my hair fly. I finally shut my eyes from contact, heart heard at my ears, before whispering, "Y-You should sleep, don't do anything you'll regret while drunk."

He chuckles, my hair sticking to the side of his face like static when pulling away from smelling me, to be staring instead. "These past weeks I've been doin' terrible things, but I didn't drink even one little-itsy drop. Not even one." Yoongi's vague confessions are still so adorable, I must take a while to make out what he speaks.

"Terrible things?"

He smirks again. I can't read his face, no matter how curious I am.

With a nod, he sighs and pulls my thigh up. Gripping and massaging its side, I gasp again, head pressing into the back wall and making the mirror beside me wiggle at its hook. His hard pinches between my legs. I'm naked under the only cloth he lifts, I'm bare, and now his jeans pierce in delicate areas of mine that make me want to crumble.

Yoongi shifts. He moves into me and I feel the force of his grunt as he aims by my ear. My bottom lip shivers, my eyes flutter open, and I try to stay stable on the wall he holds me hostage, feeling the cold of his jean's button tap and grind against my clit, the rest of him aiming dry between my lips that start to water.

I moan. He grins by my ear when I do, kissing my cheek and aiming to win while his lips wish to seal mine. I purse my mouth when he comes close, eyes widening and knowing of all to be wrong. He's drunk, he's drunk, he came with Terin—I don't understand anything. I need answers. He's drunk. I can't do this. We can't do this.

My fingers move to hold his mouth. Lame and barely rested at his bottom lip, I'm holding back a moan when Yoongi's second thrust playfully makes my assets bounce against the wall. Flustered beyond belief, it's clear I want him, I want him bad, but I gleam away from my heart that's thrashing loud. I put my leg down away from his hip, let my nightie fall back into place, and guide Yoongi away from hugging the air out of my lungs.

"Y-You—" I can't breathe, but I try to be assertive as I catch myself, "Um, let's get you to bed. W-We—" I swallow hard. Yoongi chuckles, gazing my body with loving eyes and slumping to the side of the mattress.

"Sleep with me?" he asks, taking his shoes off slow—eyes glued to mine.

"I don't think that's a good idea." My chest still heaves. I don't know if I'm shocked over what happened, or if I'm thrilled that is did happen.

"I won't try anything."

"Lay down."

"Was that an order?" he makes his brows dance, biting his lip.

I flush again. "What's with the horny attitude? You're too drunk to hav—"

"You bring it out of me." He whispers this. When he does, I lose it. I'm an awkward, warming, utter mess as I look to the ground and clear my throat with a squeaky, "Okay, let's not ever say that again, yes?"

Yoongi giggles. "You're cute."

"Lay down please." Squeakiness is still present as I fold-out a blanket and wait for him to snuggle.

Yoongi does, smirking still, and having his eyes follow my figure again, "...and fuckin' sexy."

"I need you to stop." I can't control what I'm saying at this point, I'm desperate.

He giggles again, cutely putting his hands to his eyes and shaking his head. Yoongi apologizes and chants and starts to beg me to lay with him as he grabs the pillow. I sigh, ignoring him and wanting to leave the room quickly, but unable to when his eyes peek from his fingers as he muffles at his palm, "Please?"

"You're not in the best state."

"I won't touch you, I promise," Yoongi smiles, narrowing his eyes and whining with stretches on the bed, "I wanna talko."

I try not to smile at his slight mispronunciations or slurs.

"Talk about what?"

"Come lay and maybe you'll find out." Yoongi opens one side of the blanket for me.

I sigh. With a scolding, yet shy gaze, I lay beside the man. Before I can even have my head on the pillow, Yoongi pulls the blanket over my legs and makes me warm from the chills that continue with bumps. He rubs over and blows into his hands, trying to warm me up as if we're surrounded by winter at a campfire.

I smile again. I can't investigate his eyes when he breathes into my neck tonight. Kissing my jaw, the man's nuzzling at my flesh causes more jumping at my chest, but I control every urge in my body when I shift on the bed and create distance between us. Rolling to my side, he mimics me—we face each other.

I put my hand under the pillow below my ear and squeeze for cuddles.
Yoongi, with an amused glint in his eyes, does the same, copying me.
I'm the one who giggles—still so shy I am; shy over the fact that the inner linings of my thighs are slightly wet from the juices Min Yoongi surfaced forth.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask gently, seeing as he waits patiently with a gummy smile I never get to see often.

"Your project."

I try not to smile. "You're really into what I do, huh?"

Yoongi nods, smile light and eyes kind. "I'm proud to have someone as smart as you for a partner."

My brows jump, my stomach flutters, and I hug the pillow more for comfort as I absorb such words. Min Yoongi, at it again, copies my movements as he hugs his pillow and rests closer and closer and closer to me.

I'm breathless again. "I uh, I'm thankful for how sweet and passionate you are..."

Yoongi has a mischievous look in his eyes as he says, "You don't have to compliment me 'cause I did youuuu~"

"I wasn't, I meant it."

"Hm."

"I'm serious."

"What about me is so sweet?"

My mouth opens, my mouth closes. I stare at his eyes and find strength to keep my gaze there, "When you're not angry, you're really understanding."

"That's only when I'm not angry?"

I nod, shy again.

"Hm."

"Your love for music I respect."

"That's because of you, y'know?" Yoongi blurts, yawning.

My brows furrow. It's as if he sees my confusion where his tired eyes squint and his famous giggles grace my ears again.

"I took piano seriously after seeing you play."

My face falls.

"But you don't anymore? Why?"

"What do you mean you—" Yoongi silences me by placing his finger to my lips again.

"Answer my question first," then he taps my bottom lip and brings his hand back to swallow into the cushions of his pillow.

"...no specific reason," I lie.

"Okay," he smiles, eyes disappearing from how largely his gums act.

My heart swells at the sight. With a soft voice, I ask, "Now answer mine."

Yoongi puckers his lips. It's as if he enjoys it, wiggling his upper lip, he says something about kissing air and how it tickles before I relay him on track again. He's shy, he's blushing, and I'm in awe over seeing such a man drunkenly paint rouge.

"How did I make you focus in piano?" I ask low, "...in high school?" Now I'm confused. I'm confused over the obvious, since the experiences I knew revolved around a panic, making fun of me—hating me.

Yoongi covers his face with his palms. I move to have him release, so I can see his face. With a whine, the man swings away, reddening further while hugging the pillow again, this time, burying his face into the fluff.

"What is it?"

"Turn turn, I cannet look at you when saying this."

"I don't understand what the big deal—" I shut up when I see his small eye peek from past white sheet. He eyes, teases, and begs for me to turn, so with a sigh and exaggeration, I do.

"Fine."

Laying and waiting for him to speak. I freeze when he nears me, body heat captivating mine close and instant. Breath caught in my throat, I feel his hand on my hip, his forehead able to rest between my shoulder blades, and I purse my lips. With the cupping of his hand, I pull him closer behind me, allowing the softness of his touch and the allure of his scent to drown me over. I hold him, he holds me.

I don't say anything as he whispers by my ear. I can feel the bulge on him starting to soften, the tiredness taking over as I hear the impairment on his speech fasten. Although I can't see him, I see him; I can imagine what he looks behind me, so close, so lovely.

"I used to watch you play piano," I breathes, smelling me again as he drifts to sleep, "...it inspired me."

"How so?" I ask, heat at my heart starting to pick a fight at my chest.

"You played well, and I liked watching."

"...wow," I breathe out, smiling light, trying to tame the pulsing between my breasts.

He smiles and kisses my bare shoulder. Yoongi's drunk state awkwardly drooling over on me for a moment. But I don't mind, I don't move. He snuggles into me and I allow it, unconsciously and inviting—I move my body back—he purrs with content.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he whispers.

"What?" I whisper.

"In high school..." he's still whispering.

"Mhm?" I'm now humming.

"I used to really really really," he sighs, teasing my shoulder with a nibbling bite, "really like you."