Chapter Text
The edges of Yoongi’s consciousness start to fade out of focus, like a heavily filtered photograph.
He can still perceive what’s happening around him, who he’s with, and why he feels how he feels. He’s naked but the room temperature is nice so he’s not bothered. He’s kneeling on the bed, his hamstrings resting comfortably against his heels, his back straight, his eyes open.
His body isn’t artfully tied tonight nor his eyes are covered, but that doesn’t make him feel any less restricted. His wrists are tied in front of him, resting limply on his lap, the rough feeling of the rope on the delicate skin both grounding and liberating. There’s room to wiggle his hands if he needs it but the knots won’t give unless someone else helps him.
It’s okay, Yoongi thinks, because he trusts this. He trusts them.
There’s not a single thing happening here that Yoongi didn’t ask for beforehand, every detail of their scene discussed, every possibility considered. He’s meant to be good for them and they’re meant to reward him afterward, which is why he’s kneeling by the headboard, his eyes trained on them while Taehyung is on his back and Seokjin is between Taehyung's legs, buried deep inside him.
They told him to be good and he’s doing just that, his mind blissfully devoid of thoughts, only them to fill in the gaps. He’s focused yet buoyant, and it can only mean one thing:
Yoongi is slipping.
Moreover, it’s happening fast.
But he doesn’t mind it; in fact, he actively wants it. His beloved ones are making love in front of him, Taehyung’s arms thrown over his head and his hands holding on to Yoongi’s for dear life. Both their eyes are on Yoongi, looking at him instead of looking at each other, letting him know he’s part of them too.
It’s sweet and he appreciates the reassurance but he doesn’t really need it. He knows he’s as much a part of them as they are a part of him. They’re in this together, ‘this’ the sex and ‘this’ the love, too. ‘This’ the everything in between and beyond.
So Yoongi lets himself fall because it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
It’s more than okay… He knows they’ll be waiting on the other side to catch him.
* * *
When the ringing started, Yoongi thought it was his mixing program malfunctioning.
He frowned the first time he heard it, a piercing noise that definitely wasn’t there before. He clicked on a few things in quick succession, deactivated tracks, used a couple of tricks he knew, and listened to the mix once more. The ringing was gone but suddenly, it started again. So he paused the song to figure it out and then he noticed the ringing hadn’t stopped.
It was probably embarrassing how long it took for him to realize it was just the doorbell of his studio.
Yoongi groaned as he got up from his desk chair to get the door, then immediately did a double-take at the person in his doorway because he could have sworn it was going to be Jimin, given the insistence and obnoxious doorbell-pressing behavior.
It wasn’t Jimin.
“Hyung, are you staying late again?” Taehyung asked, his brow furrowed adorably behind the rim of his glasses. He looked tired, and worried, and maybe a bit disheveled but not in a bad way, wrapped up in those pajama-like clothes he liked so much. Also, he was staring at Yoongi as if waiting for a reply of some sort...
Oh yeah. Questions usually required an answer. Right.
“Define late,” Yoongi said, immediately regretting having phrased it that way but meaning it nonetheless.
It wasn’t like him to be rude on purpose - not really, not to his bandmates anyway. The good thing was Taehyung never seemed to take it at face value, always able to read between the lines. He was very good like that.
“After everyone else has gone home and the next sunrise is closer than the last dusk. You know. Late.”
Damn, that was an excellent definition.
“Hm,” Yoongi said, buying himself some time by stepping back so Taehyung could get into the studio. “What time is it now, again?”
“Not so late,” Taehyung said instead of delivering a real answer. Although Yoongi thought, that was a real answer, in a very Taehyung way. “The others went home already, though,” he said, flopping down on Yoongi’s couch.
“Even Jimin and Namjoon?” Yoongi asked, taking a seat on his chair, facing Taehyung.
“Mhm.” Taehyung nodded. “Everyone but Jin-hyung and me. He was live on V-app and I waited for him, then he told me to check if you wanted a ride home.”
“I see… Is he still waiting?”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi hummed, considering the situation, wondering why would the couple wait for him when they could just go home and have dinner or cuddle or whatever it was they did in their own time. Not that Yoongi had thought about it before, not at all. But yeah, whatever it was they did that Yoongi hadn’t ever thought about.
“You guys should go home,” he said after a few seconds. “I have a lot to do here so it might take me a while.”
“Or... I could stay here until you’re done,” Taehyung said calmly like it was a logical conclusion.
It wasn’t. Not for Yoongi, at least.
“Why would you do that?” He asked, feeling himself frown in confusion. “I’m going to be mixing for my solo album and you know I don’t talk when I work. You’re going to get bored.”
Taehyung shrugged.
“It’s okay. I like watching you work.”
“What about hyung?”
“What about him?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head a little. It reminded Yoongi of what Yeontan did whenever he watched the humans around him interact in a way that had to be confusing for a dog. It was cute. It was also far too wise.
“He’s waiting for you, isn’t he?” Yoongi said, the ‘don’t you guys have couple plans today?’ implicit, or so he hoped.
“He’ll understand,” Taehyung said decisively. He leaned forward, taking one of Yoongi’s hands in his and, oh, right, disagreement-solving mode, okay. “Can I please keep you company until you’re done?” He asked, looking into Yoongi’s eyes, his thumb running softly on the sensitive skin of Yoongi’s wrist.
Yoongi’s mouth went dry, his mind completely empty except for an imaginary voice urging him to give Taehyung whatever he wanted.
“Okay,” he said slowly, licking his lips as a reflex. “Stay.”
Taehyung’s face split in a grin, that box-shaped smile that was so unique and so impossibly Taehyung. Yoongi loved that smile and to be the cause of it, too. Actually, he loved all of Taehyung’s smiles, his expressions, his words, his thoughts…
He just loved Taehyung.
Yoongi loved Taehyung.
Oh.
***
“Hyung, what are you doing here?” Yoongi asked, removing his headphones as soon as he noticed Seokjin standing next to him.
“I’m on feeding duty,” Seokjin said simply, after carefully placing a tray on the desk: Takeout japchae and a big mug of what smelled like black coffee. “You didn’t join us for dinner so Taehyungie thought it was a good idea to save you some, in case you were hungry.”
“I’m not-” Yoongi was about to say ‘hungry’ but his stomach chose that exact moment to rumble obnoxiously. He pressed his lips together and his ears grew hot with mild embarrassment. Seokjin smiled knowingly.
“Yeah,” he said, moving to sit on the edge of Yoongi’s bed.
Yoongi sighed. He clicked on his mixing program a few times to save his work, then he broke the chopsticks apart and took the styrofoam plate in his hands, turning in his chair to face Seokjin.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, popping a piece of stir-fried carrot in his mouth and doing his best not to blush even deeper. It was good japchae, from the little place by the park Yoongi liked to order from. He had to wonder if these were really the leftovers, but he also didn’t want to ask.
“Don’t worry about it,” Seokjin said, still smiling a little. It wasn’t teasing or smug, but kind in a specific way; as if watching Yoongi eat well was somehow satisfying to him. “So what are you working on?” He asked after Yoongi had eaten half of his food.
“The mixtape,” Yoongi said with a shrug. He didn’t look up from his food but he could feel Seokjin’s eyes on him as he fished for stray pieces of mushroom.
“She’s giving you a hard time, hm?” Seokjin asked, his voice just the right amount of teasing without coming across as ill-intentioned. He was a master of asking difficult questions without making a big deal of it. Yoongi always admired that of him.
“It’s this one song,” Yoongi said around what he decided was his last bite of the food. He set the plate on the tray and picked up the mug, taking a moment to fill his nostrils with the glorious smell of his favorite brand of coffee. “I thought it was ready ages ago, but I listened to it again and I sort of don’t like it a lot now? I don’t know how to explain.”
“Did you talk to your producer?” Seokjin asked, leaning slightly forward, a focused look in his eyes.
“I did. He says it’s good enough and I shouldn’t worry too much. You know me, though. I can’t just ‘not worry’.”
Seokjin hummed, contemplative. He was a very good listener when it came to discussing their craft, more so since he started writing and composing his own songs. Not that he wasn’t good before, but now there was an assurance to it that Yoongi really liked. He’d always been very professional and his feedback was both thoughtful and insightful in a way that was uniquely his. Becoming a songwriter hadn’t changed that, but it had boosted Seokjin’s confidence enough for him to give advice more freely.
“I think you should listen to your producer,” Seokjin said after a moment. “If he says it’s good then it probably is. You’re just too close to see it.”
“I didn’t hate it before, though,” Yoongi said, slouching a little. “I finished it last year, thought it was done. Then I listened to it two weeks ago and I suddenly want to toss it out and never think of it again.”
“Why don’t you, then? If it’s bugging you so much.”
“‘Cause if I do, the album feels incomplete, and I don’t have the time to write another full song,” Yoongi half whined. He knew he was being a little dramatic, but he also knew it was safe to be dramatic and sulky around Seokjin. Encouraged even. “So either I try making it better somehow before I have to send it out to PD-nim or I suck it up and accept I’m always gonna hate that little piece of my second mixtape which, let’s face it, kinda sucks.”
Yoongi slouched even further in the chair, consciously pouting as he took another swig of his coffee. Seokjin snorted at the display, making it very difficult for Yoongi to keep his sulky facade.
“It kind of sucks, yeah,” Seokjin said kindly. “But if I can be honest with you, I don’t really think you’re bound to hate it forever.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Yoongi sat up, attentive.
“Because - and please don’t take this the wrong way.” Seokjin stopped and Yoongi nodded to let his hyung know it was okay to continue. Seokjin nodded back. “You always do this,” he said. “Always, always. When you have two days to finish something you’ll do it without thinking and then send it and that’s that. But when you have months and months to complete it you-” Seokjin gestured vaguely in the air. “-convince yourself your stuff is useless even if deep down you know that’s not the case.”
Yoongi couldn’t even be fake-offended at that. It wasn’t a lie.
“I’m that predictable, huh?” He asked.
“You’re consistent.” Seokjin shrugged. “It’s not all bad. At least you get over it and put your stuff out no matter how much you think you’ll hate it. I’m still trying to learn how to do that.”
“Ah, that one’s easy,” Yoongi said, drinking the last of his coffee. “You just have to say ‘fuck it’ out loud and actually turn in the thing you’re stressing over. It’s what I was planning to do with this song. Might still do it, in fact.”
“Interesting,” Seokjin said, a finger tapping his chin as if what Yoongi said was some transcendental piece of advice. “You should write a book on it.”
“If this song is as bad as I think it is and it ruins my chances to ever release more solo work, I might as well give up writing music and start writing books. Or who knows, maybe I can become a music critic instead.”
Seokjin nodded solemnly. Then they stared at each other for a second before bursting into undignified giggles.
“Seriously, though. I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself.”
Yoongi shrugged. “You and my counselor both.”
“And she’s a very wise woman, you should listen to her.”
“I try,” Yoongi said, more serious this time. He was trying to be less hard on himself, and sometimes he succeeded. But it wasn’t always easy. “It’s just this freaking mixtape, hyung. It took me so long to put it together and now that I think it’s mostly done, something doesn’t feel right and I just...”
“I know,” Seokjin said, placing a hand on Yoongi’s knee. It was warm and comforting, grounding in a way Yoongi didn’t know he needed but Seokjin clearly did. “Think of it like… like when we go fishing!”
Yoongi couldn’t help it, he snickered. “How is this the same as fishing?”
“It is,” Seokjin said, confident. “Do you remember how awful I was in the beginning?”
“You weren’t that bad,” Yoongi started but Seokjin shushed him.
“Oh please, I was awful,” he insists. “I once caught a plastic bag and just a plastic bag the whole trip! It was terrible. Anyway, the point is, one day I was there with you and Hyunie hyung, we were laughing and having so much fun and I realized, I didn’t care if all I caught was plastic bags. It never was about catching a fish, not to me. It was about the process, about us having a great time away from our usually busy lives. Curiously enough, that was the day I caught my first big fish, remember?”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s how it happened. I don’t know if it’s related or helpful but maybe just… Try to remember why you're doing this in the first place? You love music, you love sharing your music, and even if someone out there might not like it, it doesn’t matter much.”
“It does to me, though,” Yoongi said quietly.
He hated to admit it, but he cared. He cared a whole damn lot even if objectively he knew he shouldn’t. The mortifying ordeal of being known and all that crap. Sucks to be an internationally well-known artist then, hm?
“It’s okay to care. Caring is what makes us, well, us.” Seokjin searched for Yoongi’s eyes. “What I’m saying is… We’ve worked so hard, Yoongi. We deserve to sit back and just have fun, even if all we have to show for it, in the end, is a wet plastic bag.” Yoongi giggled a little despite himself. Seokjin smiled kindly. “You guys cheered a lot when I caught the fish because you care about me and you know I was trying hard. Maybe people out there care about you too, and they’ll recognize your efforts even if it isn’t perfect. And you know, if you’re enjoying yourself enough while doing it, maybe the big fish will come to you eventually.”
Yoongi hummed, considering Seokjin’s words. He had a point, Yoongi knew he did, even if it wasn’t easy for him to just change his mind or magically feel better. Seokjin knew that too. He knew exactly when to push and when to step back with Yoongi, years of being roommates helping the matter - or maybe just years of being close friends.
Whatever it was, Yoongi loved it. He loved Seokjin’s actions, his discrete way of taking care of others - of taking care of Yoongi in particular. Yoongi loved it. And he definitely loved Seokjin, too.
He loved Seokjin.
Oh, my god.
“Alright, time for me to get out of your hair so you can finish your opera prima,” Seokjin said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.
A strip of tummy was visible between the waistband of his sweats and his hoodie, and Yoongi felt himself suddenly blush - which was quite a stupid reaction to have given that he’d seen Seokjin basically naked more times than he could count. Yoongi averted his eyes anyway, clearing his throat to cover up the awkwardness. If Seokjin noticed, he didn’t say, walking over to the desk to collect the tray, empty mug, and leftover japchae to take to the kitchen.
“Happy mixing, Yoongichi! Write me a ballad next!” Seokjin said, laughing squeakily as he turned to leave.
In an impulse, Yoongi caught Seokjin’s wrist before he’d gone too far. Seokjin cocked his head, his eyes wide and his eyebrows so high they almost reached his bangs. It was sort of a comical reaction to have. It was also terribly Seokjin.
Yoongi felt something inside his stomach clench and he was sure it wasn’t at all related to the japchae.
“Hyung,” he said, doing his best to sound casual and composed, totally not a spur-of-the-moment request about to leave his mouth: “Do you want to be a part of my new music video?”
***
“Taehyungie! You came!” Seokjin said somewhere behind him.
Yoongi turned his head so fast he almost got himself stabbed with the eyeliner the make-up noona was holding near his eye. It probably should have been embarrassing, but he wasn’t thinking about it at the time. He wasn’t thinking, period, his brain holding on to Seokjin’s words and acting accordingly, eager, excited, and a little reckless, all in one shameful go.
But Taehyung wasn’t there when Yoongi looked in Seokjin’s direction and when reality dawned on him, he did his best to hide his embarrassment. His makeup artist gave him a reproachful look as she got back to pencil his bottom eyelids; Yoongi looked up, silently asking the skies above to put him out of his misery.
“Taehyungie-hyung! What’s that?” Yoongi heard Jungkook say to what still seemed to be an imaginary Taehyung. “We can’t really hear you.”
“...‘awberries, chocolate syrup, whipped cream-”
“That’s it! We hear you now! Hi!” Jungkook half-shouted excitedly at… was that Taehyung’s voice listing random sweets?
“Yay! Technology!” Someone half-shouted back and yes, that was Taehyung alright, his rich baritone voice dulled by a very particular kind of static. Was it a phone call? “Ah, you two look so handsome, so proper in those historical outfits.” Video call then.
“You’re one to talk, ” Jungkook said, giggling a little. “What were you saying anyway?” He asked.
“Just our shopping list,” Taehyung said, somewhat dismissively. “Silly stuff we need to get later.”
“You forgot the honey,” Seokjin chimed in.
“Right, the honey.” Taehyung hummed, exaggeratedly enough for his phone’s mic to pick it up. “Anyway, tell me how’s it going there. Where’s Yoongi-hyung? Does he look as handsome as you, history book heartthrobs?”
“See for yourself,” Seokjin voice came, closer than it was moments before. Yoongi barely had time to register it before someone shoved a phone in front of his face, so close he had to crane his head back a little to make out anything other than a big, dark blur framed in white.
Taehyung was there, his hair and makeup artfully done, designer clothes and accessories, and an enormous smile on his face. He was beautiful, which wasn’t news to Yoongi but it still took him by surprise from time to time. Taehyung was beautiful and he was staring at Yoongi like Yoongi’s existence was something he found quite entertaining.
“Hi, hyung,” Taehyung said, quietly, somewhat shy.
“Hi,” Yoongi said back, words failing him, his head having trouble catching on with the rest of the world.
“Doesn’t he look striking in this fit?” Seokjin asked, leaning on Yoongi’s side and stretching his arm to get them both in frame “Not as good as me, though, but still remarkable.”
Jungkook snorted, leaning on Yoongi’s other side. “Yoongi-hyung looks like a rightful throne heir from a drama. You look like you just came back from a month-long fishing trip with no razors or sunscreen available.”
Seokjin shrieked in outrage, trying to hit Jungkook with his free hand while still holding his phone with the other.
“Hyung, stop fighting Jungkookie, I can’t see anything,” Taehyung tried, but it was futile. Seokjin and Jungkook soon entered their wrestle-to-death state behind Yoongi’s chair and the only reason Seokjin’s phone didn’t crash to the floor was that Yoongi snatched it from Seokjin’s hand mere seconds before they headlocked each other.
Yoongi’s makeup artist was staring at him, her hands on her hips and a disappointed look in her eyes. Yoongi tried to look apologetic but she just sighed, shaking her head and walking over to where the other makeup artists were hanging out by the snack station.
Yoongi ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat as he realized he was still holding Seokjin’s phone and Taehyung’s call was still on.
“Sorry about that,” he said as soon as he remembered how words worked. Taehyung simply smiled, oh so kindly. Yoongi’s heart might have melted a little.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know how they get.”
They stared at each other for a long, charged moment, Taehyung still smiling and Yoongi unable to look away. Seokjin and Jungkook’s play-fight could be heard in the background but mostly, Yoongi’s head was full of static, his heart hammering in his chest as Taehyung’s eyes never left his. He felt himself blush. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious through the lens of Seokjin’s phone camera.
“I’m really sorry I can’t be there with you,” Taehyung said and his smile stopped reaching his eyes. Yoongi’s heart clenched in his chest.
“It’s fine, you have your own stuff,” he said, and he meant it.
Yoongi knew Taehyung and the others were supportive in their own way, even if he enjoyed giving them a hard time about never showing up to his previous solo projects. He knew he was unnecessarily private and secretive back then, always hiding his true self, keeping his feelings so close to his chest it was almost impossible for anyone else to know they existed.
He got better eventually, therapy and medication helping him find a balance between letting people in and protecting himself in a healthy way. So it was kind of an ongoing gag, to tease the others for not cheering up for him in the past. It was also an indirect way to let them know he wanted them there now, whenever possible. They knew that, too, and Yoongi considered himself very lucky to be sharing his life with six other people who understood him like that.
“I know it’s fine,” Taehyung said, bringing Yoongi back to the present. “But I wanted to be there, with you, cheering for you and watching you work hard. So it really sucks that I’m not.”
“You can come next time,” Yoongi said, doing his best not to look as flustered as he felt. “There’s always gonna be a next time.”
“I suppose.” Taehyung cocked his head and ran his eyes up and down Yoongi. It made a shiver run down Yoongi’s spine. “Let me take you to dinner tonight, at least? My treat.”
Yoongi froze.
“I’m your hyung. I should be the one buying you food,” he said, the first coherent thing that came to mind.
“Not if it’s a gift,” Taehyung said decisively. “I want to treat you to delicious food because you work hard and you deserve to be taken care of. Would you let me, hyung? Can I take care of you for a bit?” He asked and Jesus, if Yoongi thought he was screwed before.
“I- okay,” he said, the words leaving his lips without him realizing it. “We can have dinner.”
“Yay!” Taehyung grinned and moved his shoulders up excitedly. “You won’t regret it, I promise-” His face turned suddenly serious after that, his eyes darting up to somewhere above and beyond the phone in his hand. He nodded and hummed, then he looked at Yoongi again. “I need to go,” he said, his lips pressed in an apologetic line. “It shouldn’t be long now, though, so please let me know when you’re done?” Yoongi nodded. Taehyung smiled brightly. “Alright, have a good shoot, hyung. Fighting!” And he hung up.
Yoongi sighed, staring at Seokjin’s phone screen until it turned black. Then he sighed again, decidedly not thinking about the stupid fluttery feeling inside his stomach at the prospect of his dongsaeng wanting to take care of him.
***
Yoongi’s first thought when he saw the incoming call was that Taehyung forgot something in his room when they had dinner.
Taehyung had meant to take Yoongi out but his schedule ran late and when it was finally over, Yoongi was home already, freshly showered and too tired to even consider putting on real clothes again. Taehyung had insisted on treating him, though, which led to them ordering food and eating together in Yoongi’s room.
It was a lovely evening, Taehyung’s eyes bright and his mouth full as he listened to Yoongi talk about the music video's concept and the filming process. He laughed boisterously when Yoongi told him about the stylists telling Seokjin and Jungkook off for almost ruining their outfits, and then laughed more when he knew the director added their playfight to the shoot.
Taehyung wanted to know everything and Yoongi enjoyed telling him all he remembered, trying very, very hard not to mind the butterflies fluttering inside his tummy every time Taehyung as much as breathed in his direction, or the fact that he kind of wished Seokjin was there too instead of out having dinner with a friend.
It was complicated, the way he felt about both his friends separately and together, but Yoongi was trying not to let it get in the way of their friendship.
They were his friends before anything else, and they also were a couple since almost a year ago, so Yoongi couldn’t and shouldn’t harbor romantic feelings for either. If it meant having to hide his feelings and suffer in silence until he could move on, so be it. There were certainly worst things in the world than having an unrequited crush on your friends… like not having said friends at all, for example.
When Seokjin came back from his outing, he hung out with Taehyung and Yoongi for a bit, fake-outraged about them not inviting him to their ‘dinner date’ and loudly demanding to be treated to dinner by his boyfriend too. Eventually, they got up to go to bed; Yoongi thanked them for their company, thanked Taehyung for the food, and that was it.
He still had things to check and fix regarding his solo album so he did that, butt on the chair and headphones on his ears, letting his work take his mind off things he couldn’t change nor control.
It’d been at least an hour since he started tweaking tracks in his mixing program, which was when his phone screen lit up with a call from Taehyung. Yoongi frowned, trying to think of a reason for Taehyung to call him this late after spending time together not so long ago. He came up empty-handed, a pang of worry nagging at him as his mind raced through every possible worst-case scenario.
That was the reason he picked up the call, his breathing uneasy, blood pumping with incipient adrenaline. But there was no endangered Taehyung on the other end of the line, instead-
“...wanted me to find you all cozy with him, hm? Bad, bad Taehyungie, having a dinner date with another man without telling your boyfriend. I’m gonna have to punish you now. You know that, right?”
Yoongi stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as Seokjin’s deep voice poured from his phone’s speaker. He should have hung up, put his phone away, go make himself some tea or take a walk or something, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. He was frozen in place and he just fucking couldn’t.
“Ah- it wasn’t like that, hyung, hm-” Taehyung’s breathy baritone filtered through. He sounded far and away, they both did, almost as if they weren’t trying for their conversation to be intelligible to someone else but themselves, like they weren’t even speaking toward Taehyung’s phone at all, like...
Like they hadn’t called Yoongi in the first place.
That must have been the answer, wasn’t it? It made sense! Why would his friends want Yoongi to hear them say things like that if not by mistake? They were obviously doing… things Yoongi didn’t want to think about, and they clearly didn’t mean for Yoongi to hear them either. All the more reason to cut the call and put his phone as far from him as possible… Then why wasn’t he doing it? Why was Yoongi still listening?
Because he was an idiot. That’s why.
“You telling me you didn’t mean to keep me in the dark while you courted Yoongi behind my back?” Seokjin said, his words punctuated by Taehyung’s audible gasps.
“No, I- ah. I didn’t mean to hm- ah- ah!”
“Didn’t mean to what?”
“To- oh, fuck! To h-hide it from you. I was gonna tell you.”
“Don’t lie to me, Taehyung-ah. I don’t like lies, or liars,” Seokjin said, a warning.
Taehyung cried out in response, high-pitched and broken, so loud Yoongi could swear he heard it in stereo. Then Seokjin groaned and it sounded far too 3D for it to be a coincidence anymore.
Yoongi’s eyes darted up in horror, staring at the wall dividing his and Seokjin’s room.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I know you want Yoongi all for yourself, you greedy little dongsaeng,” Seokjin’s voice came through the phone’s speaker again, a raw edge to it that wasn’t there before. He didn’t sound angry though, which Yoongi found reassuring considering what he was clearly implying.
Maybe this was just a game they played or some sort of dynamic. Maybe it didn’t have to do with Yoongi at all!
He honestly didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
“It’s not l-like that,” Taehyung said and it was almost funny, the way Yoongi could practically hear the pout in his voice, even in these circumstances.
“Then how is it?”
“I- ah! I want him for us.”
What?
“I want both of us to have him.”
“Oh… So you were courting him,” Seokjin said, voice steadier than before but still breathy. “Wine and dine, without telling me...”
“Hyung, that’s ah-” Taehyung pleaded. “That’s not-”
“Shush, baby, it’s okay, you’re so good,” Seokjin cut him off, sweeter this time, kinder. Loving. “I want him for us, too,” he said and suddenly, Yoongi couldn’t keep listening.
He held the phone in front of him and cut the call, staring at it until the screen went black. Seokjin and Taehyung’s words kept repeating over and over inside his head, and even if he was vaguely aware of the muffled sounds coming from the room next door, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
They said they wanted him. And yeah, okay, maybe sex talk wasn’t the most reliable of sources, but words were said that involved them wanting him in whatever hypothetical context. On top of that, Taehyung said he wanted Yoongi for both of them and instead of denying him, Seokjin agreed.
He agreed! What the fuck!
A loud thump and what sounded suspiciously like a slap filtered through the wall, instantly bringing Yoongi back to the present. He sighed, throwing his phone onto the bed and putting his noise-canceling headphones on. He’d definitely done enough eavesdropping for one night or a lifetime, so it was time for him to open his mixing program again and try to pick up where he left off.
He turned the volume up and let himself be enveloped by the sounds, mostly to calm himself but also because his friends deserved their privacy - or whatever was left of it anyway.
Besides, Yoongi had plenty of stuff to worry about without having to add an awkward boner to the mix.