Archive of Our Own

“I don’t understand, what’s the big deal? Just say you sent the wrong file and then fix your mistake by sending your assignment.”

Jeongguk’s constant tireless pacing from the last fifteen minutes finally comes to a stop and he realizes with a horror that no matter how badly he wishes he could turn back time, erase this doomed moment of his life and start over, it’s just not possible. 

Another thing that seems to be not possible is his friend to understand thec gravity of the situation. He turns to stare at Jimin, who sits on the floor of their dorm room blissful and completely unaware of what is such a big deal about Jeongguk emailing a wrong document to his professor.

Though he cannot blame Jimin for not understanding, after all, the big deal is something Jeongguk has never shared with anyone, could never even dream of doing.

The big deal is— Jeongguk has always kept an e-journal because he absolutely despises writing with his hand. The big deal is— his big, fat crush on his chemistry professor.

but, no, that’s not entirely it,

the biggest deal however is what he has written in that journal.

And just like that sweat begins to gather on his temple yet again.

Jeonggu recalls the dream he had two nights ago, a dream he woke up from hard and aching all over. How, even in his sleep dazed state, he had reached out for his laptop to write it down as fast as he can, before the details flee from his mind. To string that dream with words so that it becomes something tangible, hoping to engrave the images from his head onto the blank white awaiting screen.

He recalls how vivid it all was, how real it felt— the tingles on his body, the loving touches that seared on his skin, and a phantom weight of a body draped over him, all his, all for him, gripping, bruising, taking all of him. The calloused hand of professor Min—

“Jeongguk? please wipe that creepy smile off of your face.”

“huh?” Jeongguk blinks, yanked back to the reality of his depressing dorm and even more depressing life.

Jimin let out a sigh, watching Jeongguk closely. His hands stuffed inside the pockets of his oversized hoodie that is swallowing him whole as he says, “Look, i know you think too much and worry a lot—”

“—are you trying to call me a loser?”  Jeongguk frowns.

“Let me finish!”

“Fine.”

“The thing is—” Jimin begins, gently, trying not to freak Jeongguk out. As any wrong words tends to do. “Most professors doesn’t even bother to check the entire thing. They just care whether you submit the assignment or not. And I bet Professor Min. is most likely the same, so, don’t worry.”

It sounds so easy the way Jimin says it. 

It makes Jeongguk’s skin crawl.

He plops down his bed, immediately reaching for his laptop as the final attempt to do some last minute damage control. 

He looks over at Jimin and asks, “So… like, what should I say?” 

Yoongi doesn’t mean to read it. 

It’s just another word document, like many he receives in his inbox. It’s just a document, unorganized, scribbled over everywhere with no start or finish line. At first, it gives off an impression of collection of really short stories or diary entries. Poodles of random musings here and there, a string of thoughts connecting everything.

At first, it all looks so innocent.

Ten sentences in and Yoongi realizes it is everything but.

Yoongi doesn’t mean to read it and usually, he never does. He doesn’t always open all the documents he got sent in his email. But it was the title of the document that drew his attention.

the title, it read, ‘DO NOT READ, DO NOT OPEN, DESTROY IF FOUND.’

So, it’s only natural for Yoongi to get intrigued.

It all starts innocently enough. Just another Tuesday of Yoongi sitting at his word desk, checking all the assignments he received as the final day of the submission closes in. He stumbles upon that document in the wilderness of long unoriginal ideas. 

It  was  supposed to be an assignment file since that is what the subject of the email read, nevertheless, it leads Yoongi to his own delicious demise. 

It starts innocently, yes— with a hesitant tale of a boy who reconciles the memories with shy yet confident words, the day he had been running late for a class. A boy with a racing heart that tripped just the way he did and ended up colliding with a body on his way.

Then there is a description of that person from the boy’s perspective and it is striking.

The boy gushes over the dark hair of that person that fell like ink over a blank paper and a deep scratchy voice that teased his skin with goosebumps when he heard it for the first time. The hand that steadied him was big and strangely strong, long fingers hooked around the boy’s wrist to keep him from falling. He mentions the sharp, lynx eyes, behind a pair of glasses over an adorable button nose with a sweetest of mole—

It takes Yoongi a whole minute to realise that the person he is reading about is himself. 

That the boy is writing about is Yoongi.

It makes Yoongi frown and certainly does not stop him from scrolling down to read more, a mistake he would come to regret later.

The daily reports and sighting of that person in the boy’s journal slowly turns into indulgent daydreams, bashful confessions, too loud, too proud. It all reminds Yoongi of the time when he received a love letter from his classmate in high school—it had reeked of cheap suffocatingly sweet perfume and glued shut with a childlike infatuation, almost stubbornness.

Though this, Yoongi wouldn’t call it childlike. In fact, he doesn’t know what to call it, what is this thing— this too detailed scenes, too explicit in admiration that freezes Yoongi in his chair. 

Someone, a student specifically, has been writing about sexual fantasies about Yoongi. 

They are too descriptive, so meticulously doused in details as if the person is writing from a memory, of a having-lived experience. They come up vibrant like a painting in front of Yoongi, he can see the images clearly in between the lines, inside his head, can make out the shape of the body right in front of him, beneath him—

Yoongi has never hit the close button so fast in his entire career as he sits there staring at his desktop, shaken to his core, still not able to compherend what the fuck he just read.

The buzzing silence of the room helps him calm down. He takes a few deep breaths to gather himself before opening his emails once again, this time to check the name of the sender.

He finds it all too easily, signed off at the bottom. He leans back in his chair and lets it roll off his tongue.

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

Despite having been preparing himself for the worst, Jeongguk is still somehow not ready.

Jeongguk has been dreading Professor Min’s reaction, questions swarming his mind such as, will he be expelled for harassment? Or worse, will Professor Min print out Jeongguk’s every guilty fantasy and broadcast it on the bulletin board for everyone to see? Maybe he will try to get revenge and humiliate Jeongguk in front of everyone as his own personal hell.

The possibilities Jeongguk thinks of are endless and he is prepare to face consequences. 

But three days pass by and everything remains normal, too normal to be true. No flyers can be seen around the school outing Jeongguk as a creep, no one is laughing behind his back and he is allowed to sit in Professor Min’s class like always and no one seems to pay any special attention to him.

It was for the best, he decides. Maybe Jimin was right after all.

Jeongguk relaxes in his seat, counting all of his blessings as he stares at Professor Min. All of his focus on the man and not an ounce on what he is saying. Jeongguk is going to fail the class anyway.

Professor Min saunters around the podium, his hands moving in the air as if conducting an orchestra. Today he is wearing a black formal shirt with sleeves folded up to his elbows, revealing his thick forearms and Jeongguk swears he has never looked so good before. But that might be up for a debate. 

 The crisp collar has loosened up from the man’s mindless tugging during the lecture and the expanse of pale smooth skin under it is a reason enough for Jeongguk to risk everything. The vein at the side of his neck is pulsing, jutting out prominently as his voice gets louder, words grittier.

This might be Jeongguk’s most favourite part of  class, or even life. These moments he cherishes deeply and always looks forward to. Being able to sit and just watch Professor Min from afar. Be able to stare as much as he wants and for however long. 

Professor Min is truly a masterpiece and Jeongguk loves to admire him as such.

“Mr. Jeon?"

A voice disrupts the state of trance Jeongguk had fallen into. He sits up hastily, and lets out a loud, almost instinctive screech. 

“Sir, it was a mistake!” 

The silence that falls over the class is thick and pressing. Jeongguk gulps, unable to look away from Professor Min who not only called his name, but also looking at him with an expression that cannot mean anything good for Jeongguk.

“See me in my office after the class,” Professor Min says.

The entire class’s attention is on Jeongguk who only pulls himself straighter, refusing to let his discomfort show as he stares at Professor Min.

“Yes, Sir.”

Yoongi doesn’t have a clue what he is going to say to Jeongguk. He didn’t mean to call the boy’s name, he didn’t even realize he had until it was already out there heavy in the room.  A stone dropped into the still lake of blissful obliviousness.

Jeongguk has been sitting there, quietly watching Yoongi and it never feels different, considering everyone looks him during the lecture.

But after everything, after reading the things written by the boy, Yoongi became hyper aware of even tiniest of detail involving Jeongguk.

The way his eyes follow Yoongi, his every step, wined around his gait. Jeongguk’s gaze always finds him and latches onto him like a shadow. Even though, he averts his eyes every time Yoongi looks in his direction.

It has been something instinctive,  sort of an impulse, a somewhat reckless desire that bubbled up from within, the sudden need to call Jeongguk, to have him meet his eyes, to hear him speak.

Even though Yoongi does not know what to say, and right now, telling the boy his writing is really good doesn’t feel so safe anymore.

There is a knock on the door that jostles Yoongi. He quickly straightens himself, hands flying over the pile of paper on the desk to grab one.

“Come in,” he says.

The door opens slowly as if the person behind the door is usure of the action.

“Sir?”  someone calls out.

Yoongi doesn’t look up from the paper he is holding and replies, nonchalant,

“Have a seat.”

Jeongguk enters with small steps, skittering almost petulantly. From the corner of his eyes, Yoongi notices him  walk over, his frame huddled in baggy clothes that moves airily as he pulls out a chair to sit before Yoongi.

It is inevitable now.

Yoongi exhales slowly, let the jittering nerves settle into a calm wave. He drops the paper on the desk, stretches a second into another with a skim over the mess, before finally allowing himself to look at Jeon Jeongguk, to look and not stare.

The first thing he notices is the frown on the others’ round face. It is small, almost imperceptible , right in between is eyebrows. It could’ve been gone unnoticed if it isn’t for Yoongi’s invasive, exploring gaze. His habit of picking up the little things first. It’s almost cute.

Yoongi curses, but only inside his head. He swears crazy bloody unhold words because— the boy is pretty, overwhelmingly so.

And way younger than Yoongi for sure.

Yoongi clears his throat to cut the awkward silence. “The email you sent me that day—” he begins,

Only to get cut off by Jeongguk, whose eyes meet Yoongi for the first time since he entered Yoongi’s office. They are round, wide, with a glossy kind of light.

“Is there a problem with my project?” He blinks, innocently.

“No, not the project file.” Yoongi winces. “The other one, Mr. Jeon.”  

Yoongi wishes he does not have to say it all. He grimaces, peeks a look at Jeongguk and luckily, Jeongguk understands right away. His expression quickly changing.

“Oh,” he let out  “It was a mistake, Sir. I didn't mean to send that to you.”

“I assumed,” says Yoongi.

Jeongguk lowers his head, looking down in his lap where his hands rest in an almost elegant clasp over his knees, rings glinting faintly. With his face tucked away like that, it’s harder for Yoongi to read his expression. He has always been bad with confrontations, and this, he is sure will have a disastrous end.

Yoongi coughs, giving it another try  “Anyway, after readi—”

“What?” Jeongguk’s head whips up, his loud screech interrupting Yoongi.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve read it?” Jeongguk asks horrified. 

He stares at Yoongi with such a horror that even Yoongi feels like he has done something wrong. He gets an urge to just stand up and leave the conversation entirely, but that’s not what a functional, rational person does. Yoongi is all that. At times.

He has to be one right now.

“I mean, you did send me,” Yoongi tries.

“That was a mistake as I mentioned before.” Jeongguk brings both of his hand to his mouth, covering it in a dramatic effect to stifle a gasp, before he continues, “Oh my god! Why would you go through others’ personal belongings? That's a violation of privacy, you violated my privacy.”

His tone is accusing and he looks on the verge of a hysteria, eyes impossibly wide as they bore into Yoongi. Yoongi’s focus trails to the pink tips of Jeongguk’s knuckles and the colourful polished roundness of his nails. 

Yoongi believes, he’s the type who is always prepared for everything.

But this apparently proves him wrong.

He wasn’t, isn’t prepared for Jeon Jeongguk.

“Mr. Jeon,” Yoongi licks his lips, extremely guilty, “No—My apologies, I did not mean to invade your privacy.”

Jeongguk bursts into a fist of giggles, it scatters over them like confetti. Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut at the sound, the apology dying down on his tongue as he stares at Jeongguk, a little dazed.

“Ha! got you,” Jeongguk says with a pleased smile.

“What?” Yoongi blinks.

“Look.” Jeongguk shuffles forward. All bright eyed and pink faced, his arm resting on Yoongi’s work desk in between them. “I know, you must’ve expected me to give you an explanation or maybe even an apology, but the only thing I can say is—I am just relieved it’s out now.”

He peers up at Yoongi, eyelashes fanning across smooth cheekbone. A small coy smile stretches over his face, revealing the mole under his bottom lip. 

“I cannot help but wonder—” Yoongi wheezes.

It’s as if there’s no point in Yoongi saying anything, it’s as if it’s an already deep dug grave, one Jeongguk pulls him into only deeper with every word uttered.

“Oh, you don’t have to wonder at all. I mean, you are attractive as hell.” Yoongi shifts in his chair almost self consciously as Jeongguk’s eyes rake over him, a raunchy sweep from head to toe. “And I am very much attracted to you, it’s simple science.”

Jeongguk grins at Yoongi almost proud with his deduction. The sunlight pouring in the room catches at the ends of his blond locks. 

“Right.” Yoongi nods, dumbfounded.

“So that’s all there is to it. I hope there are no hard feelings between us because of it.” Jeongguk shrugs.

Yoongi nods again, before catching himself midst action, then he shakes his head, still dumbfounded. Jeongguk watches him greatly amused.

“Still, it is not ethical what you did. What you’re implying.” Yoongi forces out.

“For you maybe. It’s just a regular tuesday for me here.” Jeongguk giggles, a flash of pearl white bunny teeth. He sobers up in instant and says, “Besides, look it's not something too bad. I mean, it’s not like I am asking you to suck your D for an A like other students.” 

Yoongi heaves out a choking cough, caught off guard. “No—”

“No? not a single student has ever asked to suck your dick?” Jeongguk’s face falls as if the information genuinely makes him feel bad.  “Damn,” he mutters under his breath.

In any other circumstance, Yoongi would’ve been irritated beyond measure to be interrupted so many times and to be taken so lightly. But he cannot bring himself to be angry at Jeongguk, not even a bit, not even if he tries. The younger is witty, quick with his remarks and has a doll like beauty.  It is taking a lot for Yoongi to maintain a stoic expression, to keep his eyes focused just on his face.

“Mr. Jeon, I suggest you refrain from using crude language with me,” He says calmly.

Jeongguk huffs, cheeks puffing up, adorned with golden silk threads. He falls back on the chair, comfortably, as if at home.

“Alright, boring,” he comments.

“I am your teacher.” Yoongi reminds him.

“So? Teachers can be fun. If you know what I mean.” The wink Jeongguk tries to send in Yoongi’s direction is adorable— because it’s not a wink at all, just an attempt at it, just quick blinking of two doe eyes.

Yoongi doesn’t stir away from the important matters. 

“I, in fact, don’t understand what you mean and neither do I  wish to know.” Yoongi speaks in measured words, finding his voice. “The reason why I called you here is to tell you to focus on your studies. That's what will help you pass the examination.”

Jeongguk raises an audacious eyebrow, observing Yoongi wordlessly. 

Yoongi allows him his silence.

It doesn’t last long.

Jeongguk clicks his tongue before he says, “Okay, but one question.” 

“What is it?” Yoongi asks. 

“Why now?” The sudden change in Jeongguk’s tone is alarming, is a threat to Yoongi’s weak composure.

“Pardon?”

“You could’ve talked to me the day you received my email, we had a class the next morning as well.” Jeongguk says, calmly, though his calm is crafty. He makes an observation of everything like a little detective. ”But not only you read everything, you also waited three days to talk to me, why is that?”

This is the most serious Yoongi has seen Jeongguk during their entire exchange. He looks intently at Yoongi, eyes searching, trying to catch anything that could mean something, could answer his question, in case, Yoongi wouldn’t.

An answer Yoongi doesn’t even have.

“There’s no particular reason. I had been busy.” It’s not a lie.

Yoongi fixes his glasses and directs his attention to the computer screen in front of him, homepage of zero significance, but Jeongguk doesn’t know that.

“Alright, I believe you.”  The expression on Jeongguk’s face says otherwise.

The shrill sound of a timer cuts through the air, breaking Jeongguk’s challenging stare. Abruptly, startled, Yoongi reaches for his phone to turn it off. 

The silence that settles is even more disturbing. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says, after a moment, standing up from his chair decidedly. “I have a class now. See you tomorrow, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yeah, uh see you tomorrow, Sir.” Jeongguk lisps. 

He hauls himself up from the chair, grabbing his bag from the floor as he turns to leave. Yoongi watches his retreating figure silently, following, and maybe it gives him away. Maybe Jeongguk senses the wounded buzz of incompleteness with Yoongi stares at him, maybe that’s why he stops right before he can step out of the door.

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder at Yoongi and says, 

“By the way, Professor? I see your ring finger is empty. Lucky me, huh?” 

His laughter echoes inside Yoongi’s office long after he is gone. 

Jeongguk can taste happiness like melted sugar on his tongue, it sticks to his insides, and he remembers it, remembers the sweetness every time. He’s on cloud nine now that they’ve kicked out the elephant from the room, and because he’s finally free from the shackles of his embarrassing secret. 

The entire thing went smoothly, much more smoothly than anyone, especially Jeongguk could’ve ever imagined. 

That day as he got back to his dorm after the meeting with Professor Min, Jeongguk was plagued with many fears— maybe he acted too boldly, too forward with the older, that if he didn’t have a problem with Jeongguk before he would certainly have one now.

But, days fly by and Professor Min only begins to acknowledge Jeongguk’s existence more and more. Though, he does it in little ways like asking him questions more than the rest of the students, his gaze flitting to Jeongguk every time there’s a discussion to include him, and in rare instances catching Jeongguk’s cheeky smile during class with an amused twitch of his mouth.

Everything is good in Jeongguk’s world again. Yes, he has seen miserable days and had crash outs that could fracture peoples’ entire sense of reality but in the end, he’s here— back on his feet, slightly unhinged but significantly wiser, though no less foolish than before.

Jeongguk whistles down the corridor, backpack bouncing on his back and all of his thoughts an unskippable soundtrack of Professor Min’s deep voice reverberating between the walls of his skull.

He finds the man standing at a distance, seemingly engrossed in a conversation with one of his colleagues. 

If it was any other day, maybe Jeongguk would’ve ignored the pair and headed to his class. If it was any other day, Jeongguk wouldn’t dare think about trying something in front of another Professor, not when his dignity barely survived by a thread last time.

But, it’s not any other day, it’s today. It’s a good day, Jeongguk is always jolly on a good day. He had a good sleep last night, ate delicious leftovers for breakfast and it’s only fair that he greets Professor Min to start the day on a better note.

Today, Jeongguk slows down, stops and stares.

The soft baby blue dress shirt stretches too nicely across Professor Min’s back, the fabric taut enough to trace the line of his shoulders, they are broad and speak of a quiet underlying strength. The light rests in a thin streak over his glasses. 

Jeongguk perks up and heads straight with only one goal in his mind.

“Good morning, sir!” Jeongguk chirps out loud, skipping towards Professor Min and successfully inserting himself in between the two peers.

“Gee. I wish my students were this happy to see me as well.”  A lady Professor, Jeongguk doesn’t remember the name of, says. 

The comment falls on deaf ears. Jeongguk ogles Professor Min with a wide cheshire grin, the man bristling before the unwavering attention.

He glances at Jeongguk and then at his colleague, faint panic flickering on his face. 

“That’s not it,” he mumbles. “You are a great teacher, I am sure your students must look forward to you.” 

“Sure, they do. Then, I’ll be leaving now. See you around, Mr. Min.” She disappears with a wave of her hand, slipping down the stream of students.

Jeongguk waits for Yoongi to turn his face toward him, anticipating his eyes. His foot taps against the ground in an eager impatient manner.

“It’s good to see you too, sir,” he decides to say.

Professor Min finally turns to look at Jeongguk. An early morning face, glowing with the faintly worn edges. A subtle fragrance of coffee and cologne clings to him, Jeongguk finds himself breathing quicker, trying to get a fill.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Min asks.

“I study here.”

Jeongguk lets out a  giggle at the defeated sigh that escapes Professor Min.

“That’s not what I meant,” he explains.

Jeongguk’s expression softens into a sweeter one. “Is that so? Well I am here to greet my favourite teacher.” 

“Of course, you are.” 

Professor Min’s voice lacks the warmth it always holds, it’s strangely curt. Unlike the day Jeongguk visited his office for the first time, he can read the older man a little better now. Jeongguk catches the tension that coils his muscles, the subtle on-guard stance.

“What’s got you so on edge?” Jeongguk frowns.

He raises a hand to touch Professor Min’s shoulder but before it can touch him, Professor Min takes a quick step back, creating distance. 

Jeongguk blinks, surprised. He takes a step forward and instantly, Professor Min takes one back. The distance between them present.

“Mr. Jeon..”  Professor Min begins, unsure. 

Jeongguk makes a ‘tsk’ sound.

“Don’t you think—” Jeongguk hitches his backpack over his shoulder,  hand resting on the strap.  “You should start calling me by my name now? I mean after everything we shared—”

A hand clasps over his big mouth, his lips smacking against the soft inside of Professor Min’s palm. Above that pale hand, Jeongguk’s eyes gleam, bright and a little unhinged.

“—Not so loud!” Professor Min hisses, low and sharp. His gaze darts around the corridor, skimming over the students passing by, then, with an exhale he pulls his hand away. 

Jeongguk seizes the opportunity. He catches the brief lapse, the moment Professor Min has his guards down and without a hesitation, he takes one big step towards the man.

“Why?” Jeongguk’s voice croons. 

Professor Min straightens against the proximity of their bodies. His hand moves to Jeongguk’s waist to stop him from stepping closer but it stops in the middle, hanging in the air. It isn’t a touch but a ghost of one.

“Are you scared someone might get the wrong impression?” Jeongguk’s shines with a mischief, looking for something on Professor Min’s face.

Professor Min purses his lips in response.

“It’s okay, yknow?” Jeongguk continues. His mouth moving light and airy, lips smooth and pink from lipbalm. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll tell them that you were just scolding me for my bad behaviour.”

The laughter he has been holding spills out of him in loose ribbons, curling into the space between them. Professor Min snaps back into his senses. He blinks and pushes himself away, putting a weak distance.

“I am 36.” He gives Jeongguk a pointed look.

“I know.”

“You are 24.” 

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at that, aware of what is to come. 

“Trust me, I know.”

“Aren’t I a bit too old for you?” The frown nestled between Professor Min’s eyebrows makes the lines of his forehead visible a faint sign of his age.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip, sneaks another attempt to shuffle closer to Professor Min but the man, after having learnt from previous mistake only needs to raise a single hand to maintain the distance.

Jeongguk sighs.

“Not really,” he says, in response to the question. He waits for a moment, then with a giggle, he adds, “But you’re too sexy for me.”

“I am your professor.”

“Of course, I know. We share chemistry. Great chemistry, might I add.”

The remark stirs something inside Professor Min, Jeongguk can swear on it. The man lets out a chuckle, low, a little deep and too short. Jeongguk’s entire body falters. 

“Did you—” 

“Don’t you have a class?” Professor Min cuts him off.

Jeongguk’s eyes widens. He whirls his head around the now empty corridor and curses fly out of his pouty lips, he doesn’t bother to quiet them despite being in the presence of a Professor.

“Shit, I have to go,” he rushes out.

He spins on the heel of his thick shoes, ready to leave, only to stop and throw one last smile in Professor Min’s direction along with the words, “I’ll see you later.”

The man shakes his head, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Jeongguk doesn’t believe him one bit.

“How rude, and to think I always look forward to your classes. You wound me, sir.” 

“Go. You’ll be late.”

As Jeongguk turns to leave, he swear he sees a glimpse of a smile on Professor Min’s face that snatches the breath out of his lungs. A fragile pretty little thing. A softness Jeongguk didn’t think the strict teacher could possess. 

He has never seen that man smile before.

Yoongi would never admit it— not because he’s a professional, not because his entire career is on the line but because it would get to Jeongguk’s head.

Yoongi would never admit that Jeongguk is growing on him, slowly, steadily, a fragrant flower from a tiny bud whose scent now drenches the sweet moments of his life.

If Yoongi is a little more honest— he’d say he look forward to seeing Jeongguk, to catching sight of the floof of his wind wisped blonde hair, the smirk stretched over pretty pink lips.  Little remarks, comments, he throws in between Yoongi’s lesson that may appear innocent at first but means something else entirely, something only known to Yoongi.

If Yoongi only allows himself, he would admit that Jeon Jeongguk is one thing that makes his boring days brighter, his dull work less tedious.

But that’s exactly why Yoongi cannot be honest, because that would mean facing the ugly feeling twisting his stomach, because that’s exactly what Jeongguk is. He’s a part of Yoongi’s work.

His student.

Yoongi shouldn’t even think of him more than what’s necessary, let alone look forward to his tactics that in the long run only means trouble for both of them. He shouldn’t let Jeongguk get away with these things, shouldn't allow the kind of behaviour he inhibits around Yoongi.

But there is something about the way Jeongguk glows when he gets what he wants. The triumph on his face,  the satisfaction in his laughter. It all just makes Yoongi let Jeongguk do whatever he pleases, no matter how bad his ideas are, let him get away with everything as long as he keep laughing as he does.

It’s probably those goddamn eyes.

With a wince Yoongi snaps out of his thoughts. He looks down at the thin line of blood oozing from the tip of his finger, a paper cut. He brings the finger to his mouth but stops hastily, quickly removing it upon hearing the knock on the door.

Before he can call out a response the door swings open revealing the intruder who barges into Yoongi’s office with a quiet confident of someone who knows Yoongi would never say anything to him.

Speak of the devil—lish beauty.

“Ayo, sir!” 

Jeongguk greets as he enters, hand raised in a salute The ends of his hair curls, Yoongi doesn’t let his eyes linger too long at the delicate way they brush against Jeongguk’s cheeks.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon.” Yoongi clears his throat. He swivels his chair to the files stacked on his desk, a never ending pile.

Jeongguk’s hand drops, a somewhat offended look on his face. “Again with the formalities?”

Yoongi picks a file and begins flipping through the pages of lab data. “What brings you here?”

Jeongguk huffs, petulant, walking further into the office. “I heard you’re in charge of the spring program?”

Yoongi nods, not looking up. “I am. Would you like to participate?”

“No, but that’s a perfect excuse for me to come see you.” Jeogguk snickers. 

He flops down on the chair before Yoongi’s desk, that way he’s right in front of the man, that way he’s even harder to ignore. Soft vanilla fragrance dizzying him, Yoongi freezes for the briefest second, taking in a shaky breath.

“Why would you want to see me?” Yoongi asks, backhandedly.

“You already know.”

Yoongi looks up from the file in his hand, at Jeongguk who sits there with a smug expression on his face that looks dangerously adorable. He must’ve applied lip balm before visiting, his lips look fuller, pink with a faint sheen. Yoongi’s gaze trail to them, smoke filling his head at the reason behind the gesture.

He clears his throat again, but the action comes out nervous. He looks away.

“Because i like talking to you, duh,” Jeongguk chirps.

“I see.” Yoongi says through croaked throat.

“What did you think, huh?” Jeongguk leans over the table, sneaking into Yoongi’s personal space. “Were you....” he begins, teasing, “Were you thinking dirty thoughts, sir?”

“That would be unethical and unprofessional of me. I don’t think dirty thought about my students, Mr. Jeon,” Yoongi answers, smoothly.

“Sad. You should. But like only about me.” Jeongguk sing songs. “Don’t you dare try to think of anybody else.” He adds with a threat.

“Will keep that in mind,” Yoongi replies, obediently,

Jeongguk giggles, falling back in the chair with a dreamy soft sigh as he continues to stare at Yoongi.

Ignoring the student, Yoongi begins organising his files, separating lecture notes and drafts of his research paper. They are minor tasks, he usually handles them when he has nothing better to do, after his work is finished. But right now, he whisks through the files because he needs to do something just for the sake of it.

Jeongguk, realizing he no longer holds Yoongi’s attentions, settles comfortable and looks around the office.

There’s nothing interesting about it. Yoongi is hardly an interesting person. It’s just another room, another office, cluttered with books, papers, files and empty coffee cups. Some half-empty bottles of beverages, discarded pens teetering dangerously close to the edge of desk. The only reason why the place doesn’t reek is because Yoongi uses scented candles. 

“It’s so dead in here. Don’t you have anything interesting? Something fun?” Jeongguk complains after a few minutes of silence.

“This is my workspace. I don’t need entertainment here.”  

“But what about when you need to unwind or something? What do you do then?” 

yoongi smirks at jeongguk, “Guess.”

Jeongguk perks up at the words,  “You sure? My imagination tends to run a little wild. Still want me to guess?”

“No need.” Yoongi heaves a sigh.  “I nap.”

“Boring.” Jeongguk blows out.

“So I’ve been told.” Yoongi mutters under his breath. Glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose as he squints at the words scribbled over some note. He crumples it and tosses it on the table.

Jeongguk doesn’t speak. His silence wrapping around Yoongi like a silk handkerchief, smooth but present, soft but pressing. He shifts in his chair, only a little uncomfortable, aware of Jeongguk’s eyes studying him closely, they graze over every inch of him without a single word.

Yoongi cannot take it.

He looks up, lips parted to speak, to question, only for Jeongguk to quickly avert his gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not boring, okay?” Jeongguk speaks, voice small and soft, softer than ever, his eyes not returning to Yoongi.

Not matter how much Yoongi probe with his own intense stare.

Yoongi has never seen Jeongguk hesitate before, never seen him battling words that always seem to come so easily to him.

“You are really hard working and passionate about what you do. Everybody can see that you love to teach.”  Jeongguk  lowers his gaze to his lap, hands fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

“And your office is nice too,” he continues. Yoongi listens to Jeongguk a little hypnotised by the way he pronounce each word. “It’s spacious and well kept. Have you seen Mr. Kim’s? It’s like a fish is rotting in there. Every time I visit his office it’s like i am entering into a coffin.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly to himself and Yoongi isn’t sure what makes his chuckle as well, Jeongguk’s words or his laughter.

“Also, I come here with a purpose, okay?” Jeongguk looks up. Almost rambling. “You see the big window there? Even though you always keep it close, it’s still nice, especially in a weather like this, y'know? I love coming here while its raining, it’s peaceful, i like the sound of—”

“Raining falling against the glass, I know,” Yoongi finishes for him.

Jeongguk’s eyes widens, as if taken aback by Yoongi’s words, the surprise in his eyes swirls with something pleased, happy. Yoongi stays frozen in his chair, until Jeongguk breaks the ice, until Jeongguk gives him a small shy smile.

“You really read everything, huh?” he says.

But the only thing Yoongi hears is the loud uneven beating of his heart ringing in his ears. The unsaid confessions in Yoongi’s words— I remember. I remember. I remember.

Why? 

Because he too likes the sound of the rain.

Because Jeongguk’s laughter is his favorite one. 

“Not really,” Yoongi shakes his head, dismissive. “I barely skimmed over it.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeongguk’s voice rises with a challenge. “Then you wouldn’t happen to remember my favourite positi—”

“Jeongguk!” Yoongi hisses, with barely any sharpness, barely any venom.

His walls, his restraint collapsing with the sound of Jeongguk’s giggle raining over him. 

It may have begun as something unsure, uncertain, wobbling over the shaky foundation of one truly catastrophic mistake, but somehow, against all logic and Jeongguk’s better instincts, it settles into a gentle comfortable friendship that Jeongguk could’ve never imagined being part of, not even in his dreams, never with a man like Min Yoongi.

Even as a hopeless believer of fate, romance and bigger powers of the universe Jeongguk never thought it could be true but now it seems as if it was all meant to be.

That night, the night Jeongguk had sent that email still makes his soul try to exit his body if he thinks about it too hard, has turned into this, something almost fateful.

Jeongguk wouldn’t change a thing about it. Even if he is given a chance to go back in time and save himself from the humiliation, he wouldn’t change it, wouldn’t change anything about his weird relationship with Professor Min. 

Their relationship, whatever strange, undefined shape it has taken is perfect.

At least, it’s perfect to Jeongguk.

He stills flirts with Professor Min, not subtle with it, not strategic, Jeongguk has long abandoned the idea of dignity in favor of whatever this is.  It’s strangely thrilling watching Professor Min’s patience wear thinner by the second. 

 The same unimpressed, chronically sleep-deprived Professor Min who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than dealing with Jeongguk’s tactics, yet somehow keeps loitering close to Jeongguk as he tries to fluster the older man every chance given, if not uncomfortable. He can see the feigned annoyance in the others’ eyes that just encourages him more.

Jeongguk never feels guilty about it.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Mr. Jeon?”  is Professor Min’s greeting as soon as Jeongguk enters his office, voice dry as a paper, almost as if Jeongguk’s presence bothers him, is a hindrance.

But there are two paper cups of freshly made instant coffee on the table, steam rising in an lazy invitation, it crooks pulling Jeongguk in, letting him know his presence, his arrival has been anticipated.

“Right here, actually,” Jeongguk quips up, happily.

It’s a little like a game, and Jeongguk excels in all kind of them. 

It’s a little like a new routine that Jeongguk is getting hang off.

“What is it that you need this time, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Min asks, nonchalant, not particularly interested. 

“You know,” Jeongguk licks his lips before speaking, “I am starting to think, this is some kind of kink of yours, calling me Mr. Jeon. Not gonna lie, I’ve never done it before but  for you, i am willing to try.”

“How considerate of you.”

He grins at the grimace on Professor Min’s face. Dropping his backpack on the floor, uncaring, Jeongguk takes a seat on the chair closest to him.

“Not really, not at all.” Jeongguk reaches for the coffee cup, pulling his sleeves to his palm to cradle it between his hands. The warmth seeping into his skin.

 “I am actually very selfish when it comes to my own pleasure.” His eyes sparkle mischievously.

“Then someone needs to teach you some manners,” Professor Min hums.

“Oh?” Jeongguk perks up like a puppy catching the faintest hint of interest in playing.  “Well I happen to know someone who I think would be exceptional at it. You think he'd agree?” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the audacity, at the sheer boldness, leaning over the table to grab a cup for himself. He smiles as Jeongguk slides it towards him, fingers brushing in a whisper of touch.

“I don’t know, I think he might be too busy for that. Maybe try finding someone else?” Yoongi settles back in his chair, lips tracing the rim of the cup as he blows air, once, twice, before taking a sip. 

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to elbows, revealing his thick forearm, the veins running through thin pale skin. Jeongguk’s focus drops instantly, zeroes in.

“Nah. He’s quite good at teaching things. Guess, I gotta wait for him to notice me.” 

Jeongguk smacks his lips, glossy with coffee and saliva,  as he runs his tongue along his lower lip to catch the last lingering taste, slowly, showing off.

“Weren’t you here to discuss homework, Mr. Jeon?”  Professor Min’s mouth twitch in amusement. Jeongguk grins at him, cheeks bouncing up like a bunny.

“Firstly, just call me Jeongguk. We are past the stage of formalities and to be honest, I don’t wanna call you professor either.” Jeongguk says, lips puckered in a pout as he speaks, catching attention. 

“Shame, because that’s what I am.” Professor Min’s eyes dart around the office like a runaway thief. 

Jeongguk all but slams the paper cup on the desk, lightening up with a newly found zealous. He ignores Professor Min’s words and starts yapping, 

“In fact!” He raises a dainty, ringed finger, almost as if ready to deliver something profound, “I had been thinking about it. What should i call you now? at first my brain said ahjussi—”

“—God no.” Professor Min makes a sour face.

“But then it felt weird—”

“—Exactly. Thank god.”

“So I thought maybe, hyung-nim would be better?” Jeongguk tilts his head, “Or can I just call you hyung, please—” 

“That’s sir for you.”

“But it doesn’t fee—”

“—Guess there is no room for informality.”

“Yoongi,” Jeongguk utters, syrupy sweet, eyes impossibly innocent, wide and round blinking slowly, testing. 

Professor Min’s voice halts, the pause so abrupt it takes Jeongguk off guard as well as he sits there, quiet, breath caught in his throat, trying to decipher the expression that crosses over Professor Min’s face, fleeting. 

Jeongguk would’ve thought he imagined it if it hadn’t felt real, if the tingles on his skin didn’t feel real.

“Yoongi,” Jeongguk tries again, softer, hesitant, “ca—

Professor Min clears his throat loudly, shifting in his seat, fidgety, “You should not use a Professor’s name, Mr. Jeon.”

Jeongguk immediately forces himself to shut up, it feels like the safest option because Professor Min doesn’t look away from him. Their gazes locked, lingering, laced with something heavy.

The moment melts and trickles down Jeongguk’s lungs. It echoes deep within his chest.

Yoongi should’ve seen this one coming.

In fact, he saw it coming.

Yet nothing could’ve prepared him for it.

And now, after all the time, he wonders, who is he trying to fool, Jeongguk or himself?

Now, there’s anger and anxiety, and maybe a little bit of sadness. All of it feels so misplaced but Yoongi cannot stop it.

Because,

They’re sitting too close— is the first thing Yoongi notices as soon as he enters the classroom.

His eyes skims across the sea of student, row and row of ordinary faces. None of them particularly memorable, none of them catch, or linger, not like Jeongguk, not even close to as pretty either.

Usually this is his favourite part of the day. 

Usually Jeongguk is already there with a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he catches Yoongi not so subtly look for him. A silent welcome for Yoongi.

But, today, he doesn’t look up.

Jeongguk’s sitting close to someone, shoulders angled in, attention caught somewhere below on the phone screen of that person.

Yoongi frowns at the guy sitting beside Jeongguk. Normally he wouldn't have a problem, they’re classmates, after all. Jeongguk sits with other people sometimes, Yoongi knows it, has seen it, but something about this guys irks Yoongi. 

And now knowing why he feels that way irks him even more.

They’re chatting quietly, heads bent towards each other to speak in a low voice. But Jeongguk’s laughter stills slips through. Yoongi can hear the giggles Jeongguk can never keep down while he’s teaching and it burns low and unfamiliar somewhere under Yoongi’s skin. 

He tries not to look, God, does he tries. But his gaze keeps drifting back to them in between his lesson and every stolen glance is like another rock thrown in Yoongi’s direction.

Jeongguk is speaking in a hushed tone, it’s not to disturb the class but it feels like its because his words aren’t meant for someone else, not even Yoongi. 

Yoongi wishes he had enough discipline to look away, maybe then he wouldn’t see it— the intent focus on Jeongguk’s face, the way his attention narrows and softens. The other guy seems to thrive under it, seems to find everything fun as he shuffles closer to whisper something in Jeongguk’s ear. 

Jeongguk laughs at that, nodding along to what’s being shares. The notes his Yoongi’s hand are mere crumpled lines.

The thing is, Yoongi is knows Jeongguk is more than just a flirt who collects people’s reactions and rejoices in them.

He knows, behind the cheeky smirks and mischievous, too-knowing eyes, is softness, a quiet. Because Jeongguk is gentle in a way that people often miss or overlook because of his loud, energetic personality. 

Yoongi know that Jeongguk tears up when he sees baby animals without their mother, that he feels sad when he looks up at the sky and can’t even explain why. He knows that Jeongguk feels deeply only when no one’s paying attention.

Yoongi knows there are many sides to Jeon Jeongguk.

He just wishes Jeongguk would share them with him.

Maybe that’s what it’s all about.

Maybe it's not the guy— who is clearly interested in Jeongguk or Jeongguk who is always genuinely enthusiastic, chattering none  stop that the words seem to flow like a river from him, natural, and confiding.

Maybe it’s Yoongi who’s the problem here. Who wants Jeongguk to share everything with him and not wanting to share him with anyone at all.

The class ends in anguished thoughts. Students start to disappear one by one as Yoongi gathers his stuff quickly, wanting to leave as soon as possible too.

From the corner of his eyes, Yoongi notices Jeongguk get up from his seat and briefly, their eyes meet. Jeongguk smiles, he is about to approach, to get close, Yoongi knows it, as he always does after class. 

But before that can happen, before the smile can warm him, Yoongi picks up his things and does the one thing he should’ve done a long time ago, the first time he met Jeon Jeongguk. 

He walks away.

Jeongguk maybe be dumb but he’s smart enough to realize that he’s being ignored, but not intelligent enough to figure out why.

Professor Min is ignoring him, that much is obvious, blindingly obvious; as clear as the sky, as much as one could ignore a person who also happens to be their student. 

There has been many instances where Professor Min’s gaze skipped over Jeongguk like he’s part of the furniture.  There’s only so many ways he can look directly through Jeongguk in class without acknowledging his existence before it stops feeling like coincidence and start feeling more personal.

Professor Min’s attention would jump everywhere else, on other students, on the whiteboard, on the edge of his notes, on anything that doesn’t start with the name Jeon and ends with Jeongguk.

It’s impressive, honestly, a kind of commitment Jeongguk is enamored with. 

He just cannot decide what he’d done to earn it.

Jeongguk tries very hard to not to let the disappointment show on his face,  to not let the Professor Min’s action hit a somewhere close to his heart.

After that, he’s visited the man’s office many times but either its always closed or there’s someone with him every time, killing the chances of Jeongguk being alone with him. 

It can be just timing, bad luck, or all the ways universes is trying to discover to have fun messing with Jeongguk. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It didn’t hurt in the beginning. 

At least not not enough to be difficult to hide.

Jeongguk makes all sorts of excuses, tells himself all sorts of lies, maybe Professor Min is just busier than usual nowadays,  that he’s an adult, more adult than Jeongguk will ever be, with an adult-y life that he probably needs to focus on, that it’s not intentional what he’s doing.

Jeongguk almost manages to fool himself, until— he runs into Professor Min in an empty hallway.

The relief that washes over him is immense, it lifts the strange, unfamiliar weight that’s been sitting heavy on his chest. With quick steps, he stalks towards Professor Min, his name hanging loosely off of his mouth.

Except, the man, catching sight of Jeongguk reacts as if Jeongguk pulled out a weapon. There’s a split second where his expression does something suspicious before he spins around so fast that Jeongguk is impressed at the speed and heads in  the opposite direction.

Jeongguk just stands there, frozen and confused, in the middle of the hallway, in the middle of a life crisis. 

It’s not the first time it’s happened, in fact, Jeongguk would need another pair of hands if he were to count on fingers the amount of times exactly this has happened.  

Jeongguk is getting tired of making excuses for the man’s behaviour, and pretending he doesn’t feel his heart do that awful, traitorous squeeze every single time, feel it break with each passing day.

It’s okay if Professor Min doesn’t want to continue their....whatever this is. The word relationship feels too big, routine feels too casual and situationship makes it sound like a emotional conflict.

They don’t even have a proper label for what they share, Jeongguk chuckles to himself wetly.

But Jeongguk thinks, he at least deserves an explanation. Sure Professor Min doesn’t owe anything to him but an explanation is definitely something.

He wishes Professor Min had been gentle with it, had turned him down kindly or simply had been straightforward and told Jeongguk to fuck off or leave him alone or anything like that.

Jeongguk could’ve easily endured that. (No, he’s lying to himself)

But not this

Jeongguk doesn’t think he can take this anything longer. The silence tightens like rope around his body, it’s rings like a deafening shrill inside his head. Especially Professor Min’s silence, it feels like an absence, a loss.

He just wants all of this stop.

Though he couldn’t have guessed it would happen so soon.

The opportunity practically drops into his lap.

Some would call it luck, but Jeongguk would say, it was fate, who throws the opportunity at him and tells him to catch. 

It’s either a hit or a miss.

It’s early morning. 

Jeongguk is here early because he’s been having trouble sleeping.

And for the first time, his luck seems to be awake too.

Jeongguk reaches the classroom, and he finds Professor Min already inside, alone. It takes Jeongguk a whole minute to register the situation as he stands in the doorway gawking at the man. He’s focused on his work, scribbling something down on his lesson notes, completely unaware, completely alone.

 The classroom is empty, Jeongguk being the only student to arrive.

It’s not enough, the moment, it’s too little, the time, and Jeongguk have to make the most of it, have to hurry before other students get there.

But all he does is stand there glued to the entrance as he stares at Professor Min with a burning kind of longing stuck in his throat, clogging it, clogging everything he wants to say, the words, right there on the tip of his tongue.

He takes a deep breath, knocks, just to get Professor Min’s attention before entering the room.

Professor Min looks up and it’s almost comical, his instant reaction, Jeongguk would have laughed if he was not on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Professor Min’s eyes widens behind his glasses at the sight of Jeongguk and quickly, he sits up, straight, defensive.

Jeongguk, for a moment, fears that the man will stand up and leave.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

Professor Min stays exactly where he is, tense but rooted, still like a statue, like he’s also aware that running now might actually be worse. 

A beat passes, the another. Neither of them speak, eyes locked on each other, just taking the other in, as if it’s been a long time since they got to take a proper look at one another.

Professor Min’s nervousness radiates through his skin, his fidgeting, and his eyes that keeps running away from Jeongguk.

Jeongguk, who’s gotten so tired of the silence.

“You are avoiding me.” There, he says it. Once it starts, Jeongguk cannot stop.

“And i don’t understand, why?” Jeongguk licks his lips, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue a moment long.  “Is it something I did? Or something I said? If so, then I apologize, I don’t know what it is, but I apologize. Please know, it was not intentional.”

Jeongguk doesn’t mean to reveal too much, doesn’t mean to stretches the sentences but Professor Min’s eyes on him, watching him intently, finally, eyes he missed so much, the care Professor Min carries in them, it breaks something inside Jeongguk and everything just spills out.

“And i— it’s okay if you want to put an end to this— whatever we have. I just wish you would have told me, y'know? I know I come on too strong but I would’ve left you alone if you’d just said so. Uh, yeah.” Jeongguk scratches his neck, awkwardly. “I just, I wanted you know that and that I deserve to know too, I mean, why are you acting weird? I don’t know what’s going on, it makes me feel so dumb.” Jeongguk adds the last part quietly.

“Mr. Jeon,” Professor Min calls out. 

He stares at Jeongguk, a look too desperate for a man like him, it doesn’t suit him. Then he let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping and corrects himself.

“Jeongguk,” Professor Min utters softly and Jeongguk can swear his heart skips a beat.

“I never meant to hurt you, and I am sorry I failed to notice how my actions have caused you just that. I would explain everything but I don’t think right now is the best time.”  He glances at the door then back at Jeongguk, his gaze extremely pained.

“And it’s not an ideal place to have that conversation.”

“But, then—” Jeongguk argues.

“Later.”  The wind carries a chorus of laughter through the hallway, interrupting Professor Min, who rushes out. “In the evening. Are you free? I will pick you up.”

Jeongguk nods, a little too eager. “Yeah.”

The sound of footsteps draws nearer, steadily, getting closer with every hurried word exchanged.

“Good, i will text you” 

“You don’—”

“I have access to all my students’ details.” 

“oka—” 

The rest of the word dies as the classroom door shudders with the force of bodies breezing past it, a group of students passing by them, tossing a greeting to Professor Min on the way to their seats.

Jeongguk steals one last glance at Professor Min, before following the other students to his seat but settling down does nothing to settle him. 

His heart is a restless disaster inside his chest. He just cannot wait for the evening.

Yoongi isn’t sure how he’s going to deal with this whole thing.

It’s a dangerous situation.

There he is, a professor, picking up hi student from his dorm to take him to his place.

It cannot get any more scandalous than this.

Yoongi can still turn around, he can call off everything and go back to what he does best, run away. But the look of disappointment on Jeongguk’s face when he walked into the classroom this morning, the hurt trembling in his voice as he confronted Yoongi, keeps flashing Yoongi’s mind, keeps him pinned in the driver’s seat as he waits for the younger boy in his car, parked a few minutes away from the student dormitory.

He flexes his hand, once, twice over the steering wheeling, gripping it, letting go, trying to relax his tense body. A shadow passes over the rearview mirror catching Yoongi’s eyes, he’s gaze flickers up and all of his worries melts away, seeing the all too familiar silhouette of Jeongguk.

Yoongi has never seen him dressed up before, dressed with intent. The baggy pants are replaced with nicely fit jeans over thick muscled thighs, they are a problem, Yoongi realized belatedly. The view is distracting. Yoongi begins to sweat with nervousness again but for a completely different reason this time.

The second Jeongguk pulls the passenger seat’s door open and slides inside, it feels as if he shut the whole world outside, as if from hereon there’s only two of them.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, strangely shy.

It takes Yoongi off guard. His gaze trails up slowly, from the belt cinched over Jeongguk’s waist, to the smooth plans of his chest, to his lips, glossy, pinks, barely hiding a pleased smile. Wrong move. Yoongi curses internally, before his focus flicks back to meet Jeongguk’s eyes who blinks at him, completely amused.

“Hey.” Yoongi croaks out.

He clears his throat, casting his attention away from Jeongguk and on to the road. 

“You look nice,” he says, not fazed at all.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk chitters.

Yoongi is surprised he manages to stay cool throughout the drive, despite the wrong, miscalculated start, especially with Jeongguk’s googly eyes, staring at him as if unraveling him layer by layer, to find the actual person Yoongi is underneath all of them.

If that’s the case.

Then, Jeongguk wouldn’t have to wait long.

The car ride is quiet but not the dreadful kind. The silence is anticipatory, slowly, steadily, growing thicker with tension that sticks to their bodies like sweat under the clothes.

It’s too hot. The perfume of Jeongguk too potent, too dizzying. Yoongi is only able breathe when they reach their destination.

However, it’s just the beginning.

“Nice place.” 

Jeongguk comments as they step inside Yoongi’s apartment. The former looks around in answer and the the latter too nervous, going out of his mind, trying to busy himself with keys and shoes.

Yoongi raises a brow at Jeongguk, says, “That’s it? That can’t be all you have to say.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“C’mon, I know you, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi leads them around. He gestures towards the couch in the living area, for Jeongguk to make himself comfortable as he makes his way towards the open kitchen.

“Fine, you’re right.” Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “Because this isn’t just nice, it’s  fucking amazing. Like how much do you earn in that place?”

The grin on Jeongguk’s face turns mischievous, easy-going, he sinks into the plush couch, always finding room for himself in every corner of Yoongi’s life. Yoongi can breath a little easier, can feel the Jeongguk’s lightweight way of existing sway him too.

“You looking for a sugarbaby?” Jeongguk asks, “Because I might happen to know someone.”

“You always know someone.” Yoongi chuckles.

“Of course, I am a person with connections.”

Yoongi shakes his head. He brings the glass of water to the round coffee table and takes a seat beside Jeongguk.

Silence laces the moment. Jeongguk tilts his head, watching him and it feels as if he doesn’t know what to say after that, he doesn’t dare question why they are actually here, too afraid of the answer.

His smile falters,  the light in his eyes flickering. Yoongi knows he’s expecting an apology, an explanation, just like he knows that Jeongguk isn’t here for friendly banter or flirting, but for an answer.

An answer only Yoongi can give.

“About this morning,” Yoongi begins, the collar of his dress shirt closing up around his neck. “I guess, there is no point in beating around the bush.”

Jeongguk seems to understand the direction the conversation could take, and maybe that’s why he hardens himself as he purses his lips, shoulders squared, spine straight.

“There isn’t,” he answers smoothly.

“In that case, there is something I need to tell you.”

“I am listening.”

“And I am going to be completely honest with you.”

“as I expect you to.”

Jeongguk waits for Yoongi to find the right words, a proper beginning. 

There are a millions thoughts running inside Yoongi’s mind, things he’s been thinking about for so long, he is not sure where it all would lead him, but he wishes for them to lead him to Jeongguk.

—and that’s the perfect beginning. 

Yoongi cannot hold it in any longer.

“I like you, Jeongguk,” it’s a quiet but confident confession.

Beside him, Jeongguk sucks in a shaky breath, parting his lips as if to speak, but Yoongi doesn’t let him just yet.

“This is something that took me a while to come to terms with, not only because you are my student, but also because you were are  someone very dear to me.” Yoongi explains. “And I didn’t mean to avoid you, but the intensity of my feelings scared me.” 

Yoongi smiles hesitantly at Jeongguk, who spares him undivided attention.

“I didn’t know how to deal with all of this and then you were right there and I like you too much I didn’t know what to do, so I decided not to do anything at all.” Yoongi pauses, face twisting in discomfort. “I am sorry I didn’t realize, that decision of mine could hurt you, until it was too late.”

“I am sorry, I should’ve handled this better,” Yoongi adds softly.

His head drops, as he frowns down at his hands clasped on his legs, Jeongguk’s silence engulfing him in sweet torture.

“Can you please say something?” Yoongi asks, looking up.

That breaks Jeongguk out of his trance.

“Oh,” he let out. He shakes his his head, brows furrowed, then seems to rethink the action and begins nodding, aggressively.  Yoongi watches him, awfully endeared.

A dry chuckle escapes him and the sound only triggers Jeongguk further.

“I can’t believe you,” Jeongguk finally speaks up.

Yoongi blinks. In a flash, before Yoongi barely have time to register his words let alone what he’s up to, Jeongguk swings his leg and without a warning, move forward to make a home on Yoongi’s lap, unprovoked.

“What the—” Yoongi chokes.

“You were ignoring me because realised you liked me?” Jeongguk looks down at him as if scolding Yoongi, attempting to glare but his smile betrays him. “Liked me too much? Seriously? I can’t even be mad at that.” 

“I was not sure how you would react,” Yoongi hesitates. His hands stay uselessly by his side, trembling unsurely, not knowing hether to push Jeongguk away or pull him closer.

“I would’ve been positively enthralled. ,” Jeongguk says. 

“Oh, that’s a big word for yo—”

“Stop talking!”

Yoongi immediately shuts up, peering up at Jeongguk in amusement, glasses crooked slightly.

“Seriously, you should’ve said something sooner,” Jeongguk goes on, voice tipping into a whine , shifting deeper, firmer on Yoongi’s lap, ignoring the way the man goes rigid under him.

“I am sorry, I—”

“What have I told you about talking?”

“Don’t.” Yoongi sighs.

“Exactly. Anyway, I can’t believe you’d do something that dumb.” Jeongguk shakes his head in disappointment. “See, this is why people talk about their feelings. Why do you think I have been so vocal about how much I want you?”

That perks Yoongi’s attention and Jeongguk smiles, knowing, as he curls his hand around Yoongi’s nape, soft strands of hair getting lost between his fingers.

“Oh? You do?” Yoongi asks, slyly.

“Stop pretending as if you haven't read every single of my dirty fantasies about you.”

That makes Yoongi snort.

“I was trying to be modest.”

“This is literally the worst possible time to be modest, sir.” 

To prove his point, Jeongguk shifts in Yoongi’s lap, once again, reminding him of the promising position they are in. 

With a curse, Yoongi circles a finger around the belt loop of Jeongguk’s jeans, and tugs him forward. Jeongguk comes all willingly, pressing himself against Yoongi’s body, tightly until the only thing keeping their skin from touching is clothes.

“Yoongi,” Yoongi mutters.

“What?” Jeongguk asks, confused.

“Call me Yoongi.”

Jeongguk’s eyes searches for something on Yoongi’s face, before slowly, traitorously, they trail down to his lips.

“Yoongi,” Jeongguk breaths out, breath sugary sweet and warm.

Instinctively, Yoongi licks his lips, whispers, “Again.”

He leans back on the couch, Jeongguk following, chasing him until there is no place to go or space to move.

“Yoon—”

Yoongi covers Jeongguk’s mouth with his own and tastes the sweetness of his name on his tongue as he sucked on it, causing Jeongguk to let out a surprised, wrecked sort of sound, the syllables getting lost in between their bruising touch. 

His arms wind around Jeongguk like vines, pulling him as the kiss turns frantic, fervent, as if trying to steal the most of it before it ends. Jeongguk’s hands claws at Yoongi’s chest, fingertips digging in, trying to sink deeper than the skin. The hot, wet sound of lips moving against each other in a battle ring in the room, drives Yoongi a little crazier. 

“God.” Yoongi pulls back, in awe, reverent,  a string of saliva glistening between their lips. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that.”

“Actually.” Jeongguk grins, all red bruised lips and grinds a little down on Yoongi’s lap. “I think, I might have an idea.”

Yoongi’s breath stutters. Jeongguk pulls him into another kiss, fisting his collar to pull him closer, to deepen, and Yoongi smiles, hand sliding down to squeeze Jeongguk’s butt.

ring.

Yoongi swallows Jeongguk’s moan right out of his mouth, his body rubbing enticingly against—

ring.

“Wait,” Yoongi pauses. 

Jeongguk lets out a whine, grabby hands reaching back for Yoongi as the doorbell rings again.

This time clearer, it hit Jeongguk as well, the shrill noise of the doorbell, annoying, insisting.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jeongguk groans, head falling low. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry, baby.” Yoongi stifles a laugh, patting jeongguk’s thigh before trying to move him off of his lap to stand up.

Begrudgingly, Jeongguk complies, letting Yoongi manhandle him back on the couch.

“You can’t get away from this, you hear me?” Jeongguk announces, glaring at Yoongi’s retreating back. “You can’t get away from me.”

“I don’t plan to.”  

Yoongi throws a wink over his shoulder before heading to the front door.

The sound of Jeongguk’s flustered scream goes unheard under Yoongi’s laughter.

“Aren’t you spending too much time with Professor Min?”

It hits Jeongguk like a deja vu. He’s laying on the bed in his dorm, Jimin on the floor, drowning in his favourite hoodie with a book in his hand that he mostly uses to fall sleep than to read. 

The question sounds innocent enough, is casual but the intent is there, it’s supposed to be anything but.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Jeongguk tries to play it cool, cool as a cucumber.

“You sure?” Jimin glances up at him. “He seems to be the only thing you talk about these days.”

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the mattress. This isn’t a topic he’s going to discuss with anyone, especially not with Jimin, the human embodiment of a gossip column. 

Not after, how long it took Jeongguk to persuade Yoongi into seeing each other properly, officially.

“I am serious, no one can know about this.” Jeongguk remembers Yoongi’s voice, breathy, ragged, after kissing Jeongguk senseless. 

“I know, I know and I promise, no one will. I am good at keeping secrets.” Jeongguk had promised him, lips trailing against the column of Yoongi’s neck, leaving marks in places only he could see.

“You do realize we are here today just because you couldn’t keep a secret, right?” 

Jeongguk had smacked Yoongi on chest, only a little offended and too happy, basking in the quiet laughter that escaped him. 

But, now looking back at it, maybe Yoongi had a point.

Jeongguk is shit at keeping secrets especially from his friends.

“It’s nothing,” Jeongguk says nonchalantly. “Remember the problem I had with one of my assignments? We were just discussing that. It’s all good now.”

The smirk that forms on Jimin’s plump lips scares Jeongguk for some reason, like he’s been waiting for this exact answer. 

“Oh… is that why you were at his place?”

“what the fuck.” Jeongguk jumps into sitting position, “How do you even know that?”

Jimin barks out a laugh.

“you should ask how long I’ve known for.” He smirks.

Jeongguk gapes at Jimin, horror settling on his face.

“Who?” he whispers.

“Namjoon hyung.” Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal to be gossiping with  your Professor.

“Since when do you call Professor Kim by his first name?”  

“Ever since I became his favorite student.” 

Jeongguk narrows his eyes in suspicious, watching jimin carefully.

“What? don’t give me that look!  Besides, we were talking about you.”

Jeongguk sighs, defeated, plopping back down on the bed.

“So, you and Professor Min, huh? Who would’ve thought.”

“Please stop talking,” Jeongguk mumbles into the pillow.

He has not seen Yoongi in more than a week, both of them busy with exams and classes. Now is the worst time for Jimin to start talking about him.

Jeongguk can already feel the tears coming up, he is stressed, tired and missing Yoongi dearly.

“I am just glad you did something about your crush. But, wait, did you?” Jimin blinks at him, too interested for a love life that’s not even his. “Did you finally sleep with him?” 

Jeongguk stays quiet. Jimin’s excited smile drops as he takes in the sullen expression on his face.

“You haven’t?” he tries, cautiously, afraid of Jeongguk’s reaction.

He continues when he doesn’t receive one.

“But, why? You guys have been together for a month? Two?” 

“As I said, please stop talking.” Jeongguk grumbles, all to hide his sulking. “And, we both are very busy people, so to answer your question, we haven’t fucked.”

“But, why are you crying?”

Instantly, Jeongguk raises a hand to his face feeling the damp skin of his cheek from tears, he stares down at the wetness.

“Why am I crying?”  He turns to glare at Jimin. “This is your fault. You’re the one who brought it up. Now I miss Yoongi. I haven’t gotten a chance to see him lately and I realize, we haven’t even done anything yet.” 

Jeongguk let out a dramatic cry, collapsing back.

“There, there.” Jimin come ups to Jeongguk’s side, patting his back, “It’s going to be fine. I am sure, after we are done with exams and the Professor  with his work, you guys can make plenty of time for yourselves.” 

Jeongguk sniffles.

Jimin is right. Jeongguk hates to admit it how right he is always.

It’s going to be alright, Jeongguk just have to wait a little.

Too bad, though. He hates waiting.

Exhaustion tugs at his limbs, a dull ever-present ache. Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi stretches his neck to the side, one hand working over the tensed muscles, massing the strain away. The pile of exam papers on the desk doesn’t seem to decrease despite him working on them continuously.

With a sigh, he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes upon his better judgement. 

The door to his office opens with a force that startles Yoongi in his seat. Quickly, he reaches for his glasses, putting them on before he turns to look at the visitor.

“Jeongguk?”

Yoongi’s eyes widens at Jeongguk, disbelieved. The last time he checked the clock, it was too late for students to stay behind.

But Jeongguk waddles in on tired feet, hair a mess of curls falling everywhere, untamed. The dark hollow under his eyes visible. 

“Hello,” he greets, a soft smile on his lips solely for Yoongi. 

Something tugs at Yoongi’s heart.

“Hey yourself,” he murmurs.

Despite knowing better, he reaches out a hand in Jeongguk’s direction and Jeongguk’s hand wraps around his, fingers slipping in between.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi asks.

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. A faint crease forms in his brows as he looks at Yoongi, mulling over something, before he walks around the desk and pulls up right before Yoongi.

“I missed you,” Jeongguk whispers.

Yoongi’s hand sneaks over to Jeongguk’s waist under his loose sweatshirt, lithe and perfect in his hold, the shape of it driving Yoongi a little crazy every time.

“Me too,” Yoongi says, rubbing a circle over the skin. “You have been on my mind every day.”

“Then, why didn’t you call me?” Jeongguk’s eyes narrows in accusation, aegyosal popping out in soft curve.

“Didn’t want to distract you from studies.”

“But what if I wanted to be distracted?”

Jeongguk’s eyes flickers at Yoongi’s lip with a hunger he’s long stopped trying to hide, his words bending into a soft hush, voice lowered. He begins to move, leans down to close the distance between their bodies, slowly, inch by delicious inch.

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi says, alarmed.

“What?” 

Jeongguk’s face is pink and soft from up so close, lips ghosting over Yoongi, moving against him in a forged kiss as the speak.

“Why did you come here?” 

“I told you already.” Jeongguk stares at him. “Because, I missed you and  because, I wanted to do this.”

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut the moment Jeongguk’s lips find him, meeting in a soft, chaste kiss. His hot breath trembles between them as he exhales, before parting his lips, before pulling Jeongguk in. With a subtle adjustment, Jeongguk settles on top of Yoongi, balancing his weight yet pressing against Yoongi. The chair creaks in panic, Yoongi only places a hand at the back of Jeongguk’s neck and deepens the kiss.

Its a slow glide, a sensual dance, tongues rolling together, mouth parted. The heat simmering beneath their skin only increasing, want filling up their chests.

The obscene wet sound is loud in the quiet office, broken only by Jeongguk’s little whine as Yoongi tugs at his bottom lip, biting it in his search for more such sounds. Jeongguk heaves out a pleased sigh, going still, letting Yoongi take whatever he wish.

The kiss break only when the need to breathe becomes unbearable, still, their lips hover over each other. Yoongi keeps his pressed against Jeongguk, breathing him in.

“Yoongi....” Jeongguk trails off, fingers running through Yoongi’s hair as the elder man presses kisses, worshipping every inch of the skin of his neck.

Yoongi lets out groans as Jeongguk tugs on his hair, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Fuck me,” Jeongguk lets out. He looks so flushed, heated skin, eyes glazed, so gone in that moment.

Yoongi freezes.

“What?” He blinks, the reality catching up to him, what they are doing and where.

“Please.” 

Yoongi begins to pull away, trying to muster strength to fight against the doe eyes blinking wide and pleading right in his face, but Jeongguk only holds on together. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s shoulder, pressing all of him against yoongi.

Yoongi’s eyes dart to the door panicked. 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says.

He is swiftly ignored by Jeongguk who just focuses on unbuttoning the top buttons of Yoongi’s shirt. 

“Please? Please, Yoongi? I promise, I’ll be quiet,” he all but begs.

The words dies on Yoongi’s tongue, replaced by a sound between pleasure and pain as Jeongguk bites down on his collarbone, hard enough to bruise.

“Jeongguk.” Yoongi grabs the younger, forcing him to look at him.

Jeongguk’s eyes are frantic, determined and so so beautiful when he looks at Yoongi like that, like he wants something only Yoongi can give him, like he only wants Yoongi.

Yoongi forgets for a second what he’s going to say.

“Just this once, let me ju—”

Jeongguk’s hands scramble over Yoongi’s body, going over to the buckle of his belt. Yoongi grabs his wrist to make him stop midway causing Jeongguk to let out a pathetic, protesting sound.

“It’s dangerous,” Yoongi reminds him, a failed attempt at being stern. 

“I don’t care.”

“Do you really want to do this?” Yoongi asks, softly. And it’s not what he’s supposed to be saying, he shouldn’t be giving in but damn, damn.

“I think you know just how badly I’ve wanted to do this.” 

Heat coils inside Yoongi’s belly, Jeongguk’s voice, a sultry whisper against his lips. It makes Yoongi throw all of his senses out of the window of that very office.

“Okay,” he says.

“I knew you couldn't resist me.” 

Jeongguk smiles into the kiss, taking his time now that he knows he can, that he can do more than that.  He presses one last kiss before pulling away. Yoongi chases after him, and collides into his neck instead.

With a slow inhale, Yoongi breathes in the the sweet smell of Jeongguk’s skin, nosing the smooth  curve of his neck, and he smirks as he notices Jeongguk fumbling with his belt, hands shaking before he manages to unbuckle it.

“Now, it’s your turn to be quiet,” Jeongguk purrs. 

All of his weight and sweetness disappear from Yoongi’s body, and what follows is something sweeter.

The image in front of him is sinful. Jeongguk looks beautiful on his knees, peering up at Jeongguk innocuously. Yoongi curses under his breath, thumb caressing Jeongguk’s lips before they wrap around it wet and smooth.

It’s with that exact dedication and eagerness, Jeongguk takes all of him in, enjoying every bit of the mess he makes of Yoongi. 

“You are so  gorgeous,” Yoongi says, in awe, in reverence, voice faltering as he feels Jeongguk smile against him.

But he knows, he can’t let Jeongguk keep going, no matter how beautiful he looks or how good he makes Yoongi feel.

“Okay, fuck, stop,” Yoongi greets out.

Jeongguk pulls away with one last savoury lick and grins sheepishly at Yoongi, lips slick with saliva. Yoongi stares at him dazed.

“C’mere,” he says pulling Jeongguk up on his feet.

Jeongguk wobbles forward, before falling on Yoongi’s lap and he exhales a shaky breath, letting Yoongi kiss him, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

Yoongi sneaks a hand in between their bodies and instantly, Jeongguk jerks not prepared for the sudden touch.

“We don’t have enough time, come on, Yoongi.” Jeongguk scolds. “Just fuck me,” the end of his sentence curls into a whine.

Yoongi frowns.

“But, we don’t—”

“Maybe check my pocket.”

Jeongguk springs up on his feet, pulling Yoongi with him, almost knocking both of them over with buddled energy. Yoongi chuckles, but follows his lead and snakes a hand into Jeongguk's pocket. It comes out with a packet of lube, flavoured, sealed in his hand.

He raises an eyebrow, unable to hide the amusement. “So this was your plan all along?”

“Shut up.”

Jeongguk whirls around with a flip of hair, and sweeps all of Yoongi’s stuff to the side of the work desk. Yoongi’s mouth hangs open as he watches the younger hop on the table, sitting with legs crossed daintily at ankles, finger crooked motioning Yoongi to come closer.

“come on,” he says and grabs the front of Yoongi’s shirt when he doesn’t make a move. He pulls him in between his legs. “Don’t turn away from your words.”

Yoongi glances at the door again, anxiously, before deciding to fuck it and just kiss Jeongguk.

“We need to be quick,” he mutters, urgent hands running all over Jeongguk, unsure where to settle, what to start with, how to unwrap the gift in his hand.

“Then stop stalling and just get on with it.”

Yoongi doesn’t have to be told twice. He realizes he’s not doing neither of a favor by hesitating so he really doesn’t stall after that. And also because Jeongguk looks pretty, breathless and red all over like that. His eyes shut, expression pinched in pleasure and mouth forming an o.

He writhes from Yoongi’s touch and true to his earlier promise, he stays quiet or as quiet as he can be under Yoongi’s torment, who doesn’t stop torturing him, doesn’t quite give him what he truly seeks.

“Hyung..” Jeongguk utters, voice muffled against the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt.

His head rests on Yoongi’s shoulder, bare legs wrapped around his waist, shaking.

“Try again,” Yoongi says. He removes his fingers, glistening under the light and Jeongguk whines at the loss.

“Yoongi.” Jeongguk treads carefully. Eyes fluttering up to look at Yoongi closely.

“Try again,” Yoongi clicks his tongue.

Jeongguk pouts, lips jutting out unconsciously. Yoongi smirks at him and moves against Jeongguk’s body, pressing, but not where he wants to be touched.

A beat passes. It catches up to Jeongguk slowly but surely. He bristles at the realisation and bites his lips. He swallows, the sound too obvious in the thin air before he says, softly, testing.

“Sir.”

“That’s better.” 

The moan is punched right out of Jeongguk, dangerously loud and pornographic as Yoongi pushes into him all at once. It takes Yoongi off guard as well, as he thrusts one more time, letting himself adjust naturally.

It’s quick, it’s urgent, it’s messy and its everything Yoongi shouldn’t want but craves so badly, needs so badly that nothing can hold him back now.

The sound of their bodies slapping against each other, Yoongi’s grunts and Jeongguk’s whimpers blend into one single echo within in the the four walls of Yoongi’s office. Now, he would never be able to work there without thinking about this, about how Jeongguk felt falling apart against him.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” Jeongguk blabbers.

Yoongi couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Because it’s not Yoongi who holds the power, its Jeongguk who wields it, who rules over Yoongi and make him dance to his tune and whims. It’s Jeongguk who can make Yoongi come undone, make yoongi do whatever it takes to make Jeongguk happy.

Even before all of this began, even before Yoongi had the courage to recognise and admit his feelings, it was Jeongguk who possessed him, who haunted his mind and  stirred his soul.

Jeongguk who so blissfully unaware of his own strength, turnedYoongi’s whole world upside down and smiled throughout it all.

“Wow. We should definitely do this again.” 

Jeongguk grins at Yoongi after the waves has crashed over them, leaving everything drenched in its wetness and scene. Pulling out the wipes from one of the drawers, Yoongi cleans him with them, never thinking they would come handy this way.

“Absolutely  not,” Yoongi deadpans. “I am too old to sneak around like this.”

“You say this now, but I know you enjoyed it. Probably more than me,” Jeongguk giggles.

The giggle morphing into full heart laugh as Yoongi smacks his thigh. His hand though lingers for a moment longer there, reminiscing the way it felt wrapped around him.

“And from now on. “Yoongi looks up, glasses hanging helplessly down his nose. “You are forbidden from visiting my office.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that!” Jeongguk loops his arms around Yoongi’s neck, baiting his thick wet eyelashes as he peers at Yoongi with unnatural innocence.

“Y’know, this was just one of my fantasies. I sill have so many more to fulfill.” 

Curses strings Yoongi’s breath, making Jeongguk laugh, his body vibrates with joy, pulling Yoongi into a hug.

Jeon Jeongguk is going to be the death of him but if he’s being honest, that’s how Yoongi wants to go.