[ YOONGI'S P.O.V. ]

Last night wasn't weird for me. If anything, it was one of my best nights. Relaxed, smiling, and feeling butterflies at my stomach every chance I got? I never realized I could be so smitten.

Whenever I've liked someone, I'd tease them. It's been a thing since I was younger, growing, and even now. When sitting with her, eating cake and ice cream, I came to terms with this habit when I kept picking cute arguments on fire throughout. From the way she chewed, to the way she sat, to the way she hit me so pathetically on the shoulder...I made fun of it all because that's how I dealt with such scary emotions.

I remember doing something similar when I was younger. Making fun of her nose, pulling her hair, pushing her into sand or grass. I don't condone the behaviour, nor do I think that every boy that's mean likes the other, but all I know is that I did. I guess from the way I tease now, I still do. I...more than like her. More than. That's a scary thought right there.

I know what I feel. I know I should tell her. I know.

But I can't when knowing how smoothly things go between us lately. Coming to the cabin, eating, laughing, and watching some old television recorded into the players, nothing was awkward. That's what I like. I like that nothings awkward. I kissed her, she kissed me. We actually did that, but even then, she didn't make it weird! That's the best part! She didn't cling, she didn't mope about a label.

She simply stays in the moment with me always and that's what I admire.

Like a best friend. She's my best friend. It's easy to admit that.

I smile. Shaking my head at my thoughts, I glance over at you bounce down to sit on the steps next to me, carrying boxes. On the porch we both are. Your eyes are glistening in excitement, and I repeat 'best friend' in my heart and mind over and over and over. It's true, it really is.

"Quit staring at me," you chuckle, making me blink like a maniac before shyly glancing away. The smile that lurks on my face lingers, clearing my throat.

"What you got there?"

"Gifts," you pipe, rubbing your hands together in anticipation. "Ready to dive in? You've been impatient since yesterday."

I nod, my smile faltering a little over how you hold my thigh close to you. The fact that you've gotten comfortable enough to drape your naked legs over my lap scares me, just a little. Because I look at your legs, I look at our position, and my mind flashes to Terin. There's sudden guilt that builds within the walls of my stomach and I want to throw up. I've got to tell her. My eyes are now sad, seeing you open the first box.

It's a gift from my parents. Some house warming antiques, and then the photo album we were supposed to gawk at long ago. Placing it on to your lap, you scoot closer and I wrap my hand around your waist, saving you the difficulty. You smile and say, "Thank you," gracing my cheek with your soft touch. I smile in response, binging with images in front of me.

There's pictures of us both when younger. Some individual, some together. If I weren't so distracted by your face, your laugh, and the way you smell of my shirt and scent, maybe I'd be laughing and smiling at the pictures too. It is a surprise to me when going down memory lane, however. It's sad how I don't remember much of it...or rather, I force myself not to remember, ashamed of crying if I do. It was tough, but no matter how poor, there was always happiness.

"We look so cute here!" I blink, stare to the picture you point at, and then I smile. Genuinely. We do look cute. She's always been cute, I'm...meh.

The pages go by, the pictures go by. I'm a love-struck puppy, innocent-eyed and in awe. I watch you, intensely. Your hair is messy, your face is not bare, but I wish it was, so I could memorize imperfections and learn to love them. I love learning to love. I like the journey it involves. So, I start the journey, you make it easy. I watch you, in nothing but my old gym-shirt from high school and silk shorts I can't quite see.

"You look beautiful." Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck! I've complimented her physical appearance, I—since when has that been so easy for me? Holy fuck holy fuck!

I watch your eyes jump up to meet mine. I'm shocked, I'm making it visibly known that I'm shocked. Seeing my expression, you move from surprised to amusement. "How am I beautiful?" you ask me, soft but daring. There's a teasing glint in your eye.

"Can we open the other presents?"

"Answer my question and maybe I will."

I move your legs off my lap. Fast. Your breath jumps, your gasp into laughter when I start to stand up on the step and run back to the cabin. You pull me back down, whining and I don't fight much, sitting when your legs prop onto me again. "Let's move inside."

"I like the sun right now," you speak, waving me off to calm down, "...geez, can't even answer a simple question I ask?" Then you pout, looking to the large album, saying, "It's slightly offensive that you can't answer it...if I'm going to be honest."

I watch as the world goes silent around us. You smile at points but not as largely as before. I sigh internally, nibbling my cheek and knowing that I'm in over my head. When we're done flipping through the photo album, we view the antiques but the entire time, my gaze is set on you. I feel bad, I feel scared, I feel gasy.

With a harsh gulp, I whisper, "...I can't really answer that, it's a hard question."

You blink a few times before understanding what I'm referring to. Looking to my eyes, yours narrow. "Sorry?"

"Explaining how you're beautiful is hard."

"How so?" you're getting ready to ignite fuel within your soul. I can see the anger threatening to spill if I speak the wrong words. So, I don't. I don't speak the wrong words. I answer, "It's hard because if I answer, cliché and cheesy, I make a fool out of the truth."

You're in confusion. I smile as you listen to me babble. Ear and cheeks starting to go pink, I chuckle shy, look to the skin on your legs, then out into the grass tress and nature ahead. "Any boy that answers that question is bullshitting and probably only wants to sleep with you."

"I'm...so confused?"

I smile, lick my lip and then pucker them. I like how the air feels against wetness. Playfully eyeing you from the corner of my eye, I go, "Say if I were to answer, 'everything' or 'anything' to that question...how would that make you feel? Would it make you blush?"

"...Probably."

"As expected," I mumble before rubbing the top of your leg, "Then I'd touch your leg like this, say a few more things to get you flustered...and soon after, we'd kiss again right here." Your lips part in shock, I move my hands away from your leg and mind your space. I say, "Then we'd go inside, we'd flirt, kiss more, maybe even cuddle. Eat dinner—" I sigh, "—sleep in our separate beds. The next morning and the morning after that and the morning after that, you'd tease and ask questions expecting to hear certain answers. I'd give them to you and you'd shy over in allowing me to kiss you more. Eventually, in this hypothetical situation, I'd get you to sleep with me. I'd get what I want."

Your opened mouth closes, then opens again. I smirk, leaning onto my hands on the wood behind me. Looking back to the grass, I pipe, "That's how most men get it down. They know what women want to hear, so they say it. Some mean it, others don't. Most of the time, they might not mean it at first, but the minute they get a good feel for how you're in bed, they believe in what they said...it's a twisted-cycle I like the call, the fuck-boy chronicles."

You deadpan when I try not to laugh. "Did you just go on and on about everything just, so you could say 'fuck-boy chronicles'?" I purse my lips, "Maybe and maybe not."

"Maybe not?" you challenge for the latter.

"My point is, I'm not going to answer this question because I don't have the words to answer it. I don't know what makes you beautiful since there are things about you I can't put into words...and if a guy has had the nerve to summarize it and put everything great about you—every-little-fucking-thing—into a phrase or two, then he's bullshitting. Simple as that." My jaw clenches awkwardly, smile falling when your eyes soften. I realize how ironic all turns. The one thing I was trying not to have happen, happens. Her eyes scream her wish to kiss me.

"I'm not here for the sex, nor did I kiss you last night wishing that eventually I'll get more." I smile tight, awkwardly grab at another box and scream internally for the subject to change. I'm blushing, oh shit, why am I blushing?

"Yoongi?"

"What?" I nonchalantly mumble. I want to look up and see you but don't have the courage to.

I feel how hot my cheeks are against your fingers when you grab my face and have me look over. Before I can even blink, your lips softly graze mine. I shut my eyes hastily, leaning in and kissing you back. Before I can fully commit, you pull away, small smile on your face. What you say next make me smile.

"Right answer."

Then you kiss me again. I peck your lips back, flush, and pull away to speak but you beat me. With your eyes still closed, you blurt, "I stopped playing piano in high school because of you." It's a confession. It's a sudden, insane confession and my brows jump so high—the moment we shared now gone.

"What?" I'm bewildered.

"Because of you and Terin," you say, pursing your lips and keeping your eyes shut.

Mine are wide. "What?" I repeat, voice high.

It takes a while. You're breathing in my face and I'm in yours. Slowly, your soft eyes meet mine that look to be frozen. With a small scared smile, you say, "Don't freak out."

"Kinda hard not to freak out."

"It was a long time ago."

"What happened?" I ask, voice a squeak.

You gulp. I see how nervous you are but the eye-contact we share doesn't break.

We're both speaking fast now:

"You stopped talking to me for a long while, you didn't even look at me."

"...I didn't?"

"N-No, you didn't. Then I was in music class—"

"Oh shit." I start to remember.

My eyes are still wide, your tongue is still fast:

"Terin pushed me off the stool in front of everyone and you started to laugh. With you laughing, everyone started laughing. I dropped out of the class and you didn't notice, so I stopped talking to you and didn't expect an apology."

"Fuck."

"But Terin continued to pick on me. I never understood why but every time I even tried to touch a piano key again, I had like war-flashbacks or something I—"

"I—"

"I know it's melodramatic, but I've just been—"

"N-No, you're not being dramatic," I whisper, eyes still so wide. It's only this moment when I notice that your hands are still cupping my cheeks. I probably look like a weird animal with my cheeks pushed in and my lips pouting out.

"I'm not?"

"Of course not."

"But now you know."

"I'm so sorry."

You're getting a heat-flash. I can tell you're so embarrassed for even blurting out to share. "Don't be, it was a long time ago," you say. "But it's still important to apologize for," I say back. We look at each other for a long time after that.

You stare at my lips, I watch you as you do. With a cute shift for a peck, you kiss me and sigh, "It's okay," before moving away entirely.

Face free and lap free, I look to my thighs that don't have you propped on. Swallowing hard, I look at your face that buries itself into another box. Nanami's gift box. "Can we talk about it?"

"I'd rather not," you laugh, so so beyond nervous that it's seen from how high your tone rings.

"Maybe later?" I ask, really wanting to talk.

You nod, haste and wanting a shift in topic. I can't help but smile the tiniest bit. I'm conflicted. There's a part of me that's happy from the kisses just shared, then there's the other that is regretting ever being rude to you. The fact that you don't play the piano because of me? That's hard to digest.

"Ah! Oh wow!"

My head whips to you. Your eyes are wide and you're staring forward. It takes me a while to understand why you've reacted in such a manner, but when I do, my eyes bulge. "Holy shit," I curse out loud instead of my head.

Nanami's box includes lingerie and other...things.

To lighten the situation, I say, "We'll try it out and see the sizes for the lingerie and...Oh, we've also got handcuffs?" I take the fluffy patterned traps from within the box and wave them in the air.

Your eyes meet the side of my face and my smile falters when you respond with a, "We'll try everything out." It's a bold statement. A statement that has me nervous.

"Wha—"

"But not today," you shake your head as if you're scolding yourself. "Let's just, okay...let's take deep breaths and move on to the next few boxes." You breathe in, breathe out. My shocked state is less flustered when seeing how adorably you handle your own inner turmoil. Now, I'm a grinning and smug mess with confidence that could rip any other's self-esteem to pieces.

Turning my attention to my phone that buzzes, I narrow my eyes and catch a few words from the text Terin gives me. She's been spamming me for days. It reads; Terin: Answer me, Min Yoongi! Or else I'll [...] I don't read the rest. I shut my phone off completely and don't plan on turning it back on anytime soon.

Then I pay attention to a woman I care for. You. With mischief eyes, I say, "So what will we be using first?" and expect the light shoulder slap you give me, begging for me to drop the topic a second time.

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