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yumeyooa · 2 years

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walking the tightrope with you | 01

—being married to kuroo tetsuro, your best friend, was a dream come true. until slowly but surely, it became your worst nightmare. will the two of you make it out of the tightrope together?

➢ pairing: kuroo tetsuro x female! reader

➢ word count: 9.7k+

➢ love letter: i’m back with an angsty piece! this will be two parts so i can focus on writing other fics as well but ahhh it feels good to be back after a few months ;>> i hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think!!

navigation | anime masterlist | part two

When you first met Kuroo Testsuro, you were five.

Shy and timid, you hid yourself behind your mother’s back, peeking with hands clasped tightly on the fabric of her skirt as you stared meekly at the raven haired boy, who was much taller than you, despite being only six years old.

“Come on sweetie,” your mother had called, trying to get you to come out of your shell. “What do we say when we meet someone new?”

Your eyes dart to meet hers, as if you were begging her not to let you do this, but your mother merely smiled, continuing to encourage you with subtle gestures. “I-it’s nice to meet you,” you whisper after a moment, feeling your nerves begin to bundle up together, ready to explode at any given moment. “My name is (Y/N).”

“And I’m Tetsuro! It’s nice to meet you too, (Y/N)!” Kuroo replied almost instantly, stretching out his arm for you to shake. You could tell right away that he was the opposite of you. His smile seemed so bright, even if it was hidden behind polite gestures. You take his hand and shake it softly, causing the man to smile wider, if that was possible. “I can tell we’re going to be great friends!”

His smile was like the sun, you thought, as you gazed up at him in wonder and awe. A sun that shone bright in the middle of the night sky, unashamed. It made you excited and nervous at the thought of making your first friend, hoping that this friendship would be here to stay.

And stay it did.

You were twelve when your mother told you and Kuroo were to be wed.

By then, you and Kuroo had been friends for six going seven years, and you had stuck by his side almost every step of the way. It was almost as if Kuroo had taken you under his wing, always bringing you out on some fun adventure outside of your mother’s watch. It was odd, even terrifying at times but refreshing.

Yet, you knew this was coming. Why else would your mother introduce you to a boy at such a young age?

Your mother was a traditionalist; a woman who valued modesty and purity over anything else. Innocence was the essence of a woman in her eyes, and interacting with men at such a young age would only taint it. Unless, that interaction served a greater purpose, which in this case it did.

“You understand why we are doing this, right my sweet (Y/N)?” Your mother had asked you when she broke the news in her sickly sweet voice, laced with hidden motives. Your mother was not a warm person by no means. She was calculating and cold— a practical woman who made decisions that would serve her best interests, even if at times those decisions were in no way empathetic.

“Yes mother,” you agree, head bowed in submission, like you were taught. “For the glory of the (L/N) name.” You both resonated at the same time, a feeling of dread forming on your gut as you do. Coming from a prestigious family had its perks, but at times like these, you really wished your family never had such an elaborate background.

“Good, we’ll begin your training at once,” your mother says, not even looking you in the eye. “You’re dismissed.”

And that was it. Your mother didn’t even bother to ask how you felt or what you thought of the prospect of marriage. But what were you supposed to think? You were only twelve, an age on the edge of your younger years. To the average person, marriage wasn’t even supposed to be plaguing their thoughts.

But what could you do?

When you meet Kuroo later that afternoon, there’s heaviness in the air as the both of you process the weight of your situation. “Hey, at least we’re not getting married to strangers, right?” He had joked, trying to make light of the heavy atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“Right,” you nod, unable to find the words. Noticing how blue you were feeling, Kuroo lets out a sigh, leaning back on the trunk of the great tree that stood tall in his backyard, a place you two often stayed at, a place that had become special to you over the years.

“Promise we’ll make this work?” He whispered, and you finally mustered up the courage to look at him. To anyone else, Kuroo appeared to be normal, but you knew better. You could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, one that probably mirrored your own, and you realise that at this very moment, you weren’t alone.

The both of you would have your childhood stripped away, forced to think about the future instead of the present, and that was a reality you both would have to face. So instead of facing it alone, the least you two could do was face it together.

“Promise,” you finally say, smiling softly as you hold up your pinky, to which he quickly intertwines his own with— an oath being formed under the setting sun.

No matter what, you would get through this, together.

You were fifteen when you fell in love with your best friend and soon-to-be husband.

Perhaps that was fate’s way of being kind to you. Of saying sorry for all the things it had put you through. Regardless, ten years after you met Kuroo Tetsuro, you finally fell for him, and the funny thing is, you’re not even sure as to why or how it even happened.

There was no triggering moment that caused your feelings to bloom in an instant. It was a slow and gradual process, one that formed through the ten years you had known the tall, outgoing man. Perhaps the seeds of love were sowed in your heart the moment you met him back when you were five. When he took your hand and led you to the balcony for some stargazing, something to get you two away from the boring chatter of the adults. He had made you smile that day, fascinating you with his vast knowledge of the stars.

Perhaps over time, the moments you two shared had been the water and sun that made this insatiable love within you grow. From a sprout, all the way to a budding plant, until it finally blossomed to where you were today, when you woke up on the dawn of your fifteenth birthday and realised that shit you were in love with your best friend.

You couldn’t even look him in the eye after that, trying to come to terms with your feelings. Since when did Kuroo look so handsome? That same Kuroo who you’d always tease for looking like a rooster with the way he decided to style his hair. He took forever to get ready in the morning, taking more time than you did.

Since when did you begin to notice just how lean and muscular he was getting— all those years of volleyball on the side doing wonders for his physique. Since when did your heart beat so fast you could have sworn anyone could hear it from a mile away?

All of a sudden being with Kuroo felt like a dream. It became more than an escape from the mediocrities of life. Being with Kuroo became a safe haven, a paradise even. You looked forward to being with Kuroo everyday, even if it was during after school lessons about how to manage a large corporation. Your mother had insisted that you shouldn’t attend such lessons, and instead improve your housekeeping skills as a future housewife. But Kuroo insisted, and who was your mother to deny your future husband?

Everything Kuroo did, made your heart skip a beat. And you would have it no other way.

You were eighteen when you found out that your feelings for Kuroo were mutual.

It was the day of your wedding, and the nerves were rumbling inside your chest, from nervousness and excitement combined. This was one of the most pivotal moments of your life. You were to be wed to your best friend, your partner in crime, and the man you’ve loved in secret for three years, maybe even more.

But the man in question didn’t even know of the raging feelings that were burning inside of you.

You hadn’t seen Kuroo for a while. Prior to that day, the two of you had been incredibly busy. You with wedding preparations, and Kuroo with preparations to start working in his parents company. That coupled with club activities and a hectic school schedule made it almost impossible to meet.

So when you walk down the aisle, hand in hand with Kuroo’s grandfather (the nice old man had been kind enough to offer to do so, taking the opportunity since your mother was a widow; all his children were men, he had said, so he never had the chance to walk someone down the aisle until you came along), you were stunned at the sight of his tears.

A range of emotions passed by you in a flash. Was it an act? A gig to make people believe in this lie? But as your eyes made contact with his, you could tell that the tears that were falling from Kuroo’s eyes were genuine. You had known him longer than anyone, of course you could tell. His eyes were screaming love.

When you finally meet him at the altar, a small shaky smile greets you. “Hi,” he whispers, soft enough for only you to hear. “Hi,” you whisper back, feeling him squeeze your hand reassuringly, as if he were trying to tell you (or maybe himself, you weren’t sure) that everything was going to be okay.

The moment you said your vows, however, was when you realised that this marriage was genuine and true.

For better or for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and health, until death do you part.

The oath you had made back when you were twelve had evolved, you jokingly think to yourself as he places the ring on your finger, holding you as if you could break at any moment. It was a vow now— one that would last for all of eternity, hopefully.

And as you look into each other’s eyes, brimming with genuine, passionate love, the bells ring, and you seal your fate with a kiss, giving your everything to him, hoping that he wouldn't break your heart in the process.

But that was five years ago.

At age twenty three you’re a full time housewife, although you don’t really mind. It’s not like you had any particular dreams you wanted to chase after, anyway. The only thing you wanted in life was to be happy. And besides, being a housewife came with its perks— you could pursue any hobby you wanted to while your husband was gone, and didn’t have to deal with the stress of corporate life. It was a fair trade, even if it seemed to most that you were being held back.

Like a trophy wife almost.

And if anyone had said that to your face a year ago, you would have fought back. You and Kuroo had a wonderful marriage, despite what others may think. To the two of you, marriage was almost like the first stages of a newly formed relationship. Every night, Kuroo would bring you home a gift, no matter how mundane or cliche it was.

A bouquet of flowers, because it reminded him of how much you loved the colour red, even if you already had a mountain of roses from his previous bouquets scattered all over the living room in polished vases.

A box of chocolates with a bottle of wine— your favourite combination. Whenever Kuroo brought those home, you knew he was in need of some time to unwind. So you’d pour the two of you a cup, set up his favourite show, and just spend the night snacking on the couch like the two of you did so many times before.

Occasionally, Kuroo would bring home silly gifts— the two of you were still on the cornerstone of your youth after all. Apparently fluffy hats were all the rage these days, something about idols wearing them often. So he bought you some of the finest ones he could find, even if it was in the middle of summer and you had no reason to even wear the hat. The two of you would laugh, and you’d still try it on for fun’s sake, even if you looked absolutely ridiculous, putting on a show to make your husband smile.

Your marriage was not perfect by any means, the two of you were still learning about the world, after all. But you were doing it together, and that’s all that mattered at the end of the day.

But nowadays, you can feel your relationship begin to crumble.

You wouldn’t call yourself a trophy wife, per se, but you certainly were beginning to feel like one. You couldn’t even remember the last time you and Kuroo went on a date. But maybe that was the neediness talking. It had been five years after all, the two of you were way past the honeymoon phase.

The door chimes, signalling that Kuroo had just arrived and you rush from your seat on the couch, scolding yourself inwardly for losing track of time. It was a good thing you had decided to go with baked salmon for tonight’s dinner, at least it meant less chances of having the food burn.

“Welcome home,” you chirp, watching as Kuroo puts away his jacket and hangs it on the rack. There’s a worn out look on his face, one that makes you concerned, knowing work has been heavier for him these days.

“Long day?” You ask, but he merely grunts, shoving past you, making his way to the couch and plopping down on it with a heavy sigh leaving past his lips. His left arm rests on his eyes, as if he was trying to shield himself from the world, even if it were just for a moment.

Your brows furrow, heart empty at the way Kuroo didn’t even bother to greet you. But that was okay, he was tired. It was normal to be overwhelmed and forget about the little things when he was a CEO at the ripe age of twenty three. You shouldn’t take it to heart. He was just tired.

“I made some baked salmon for dinner tonight,” you say, voice light as you could muster, trying to liven up the mood. “I can pour you some wine if you need a dri—”

“—Beer.” Is all Kuroo says, not even bothering to look at you. “Get me a beer.”

For a moment, you just stood there, shocked. Kuroo never drinks beer, despite his image screaming the opposite. He tended to gravitate towards wine and sake, once joking of how that made him feel like a real CEO, but never beer. It was a good thing you had some leftover bottles from the last time Kuroo had guests over, otherwise you would have added to his already stressful day.

You nod, although you doubt Kuroo could see it with the way he’s blinded himself from the world in an attempt to get himself together. You grab the beer bottle from the fridge, pouring some ice on a cup and placing it on a table.

“Dinner’s ready,” you call, taking a seat on your side of the table, watching as Kuroo tiredly stands from where he sat on the couch, loosening his tie as he plops himself once more on the chair opposite of you. He doesn’t even bother to thank you for the meal, or comment on how appetising the food looks like he usually does. He just reaches for the beer, pours it on the glass and chugs it down.

You had never seen Kuroo like this.

Dinner passes by in silence, but unlike the peaceful silence you had been expecting, the silence that surrounded the air made you feel uncomfortable. You just couldn’t understand why your husband was acting so differently, but couldn’t find the courage to speak up on it. Kuroo looked like he didn’t need your confrontation at the moment, and you didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

But days pass, and Kuroo remains the same.

Each day is like a loop of the same incident, only as time passes, it gradually gets worse. He continues to not speak to you once he returns home and just as you thought that attitude would disappear once morning comes, it doesn’t. When he wakes up, he says nothing. There’s no good morning kiss, there’s no playful remarks and witty jokes, there’s no complaining about the morning news over a cup of coffee and tea. Nowadays you go through your routine in silence, the closest you’ve ever been to your husband falling only when you secure his tie.

“Take care,” you whisper, praying he’d respond. “I love you.”

But all Kuroo does is leave, causing another crack to form on the surface of your heart.

Kuroo didn't come home that night. Well, he does, but it’s late, in the wee hours of the morning, and you’re wide awake, frantic and scared, waiting.

Usually, if it was like how it was before, Kuroo would call or at least text you, saying that he was coming home late, making you promise not to stay up, and reminding you of how much he loves you. But there was none of that, that night.

Instead, you're wide awake at one in the morning, worried out of your mind when Kuroo walks in, drunk and wasted, something you had never seen from him before.

“Tetsuro!” You exclaim, a rush of emotions passing through you. Relief, shock, worry, anger. You catch him just as he stumbles into the living room causing the two of you to collapse onto the floor. “Where were you? Why did you come home so late? I was worried sick!”

“None of your business,” Kuroo slurs and you can tell he’s actively trying to avoid you, turning away from your touch when in the past he would lean towards it. You frown feeling the strings begin to snap, pulling apart just enough for you to be on the verge of losing it.

“It is my business, Tetsuro,” you stress, grabbing him by the arm to steady him. “You didn’t send me one text nor call telling me of your whereabouts the whole night! What can’t I do but worry?”

“You know what you can do? Shut the fuck up and leave me alone,” Kuroo says finally snapping. You can tell that he’s still in his drunk haze. You let go of his hand and he begins to sway side to side, but that doesn’t prevent him from pointing an accusing finger at you, as if you were the one in the wrong.

You’re speechless, mouth agape as your husband’s words finally settle in, and the strings you’ve desperately tried to hold together just snap.

“Are you serious right now, Tetsuro?” You say, voice stern, feeling the anger bubble within you. “You want me to leave you alone?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says without hesitation. He doesn’t notice the way the emotions leave you, as if his words were sucking the soul from your face. Of course, said emotions were still buried underneath the waters, but you wouldn’t let him know that. You couldn’t let him know that.

“You’re always so fucking clingy, you know that?” Kuroo continues, without a care in the world of how much his words were piercing your heart. “It’s so fucking annoying. I have to deal with so much shit at work, and then deal with you? Gosh. You don’t even take care of me like a proper wife should! You know Shinsuke from accounting? He has a fucking wonderful wife that brings lunch to him everyday, and he always brags about how his wife gives him massages and takes care of everything he needs. But you? You’re just some fucking parasite leeching off my wealth. So why should I tell you of everything I’m doing? It's not like you’re my mom!”

Silence.

Only silence remains after his outburst, and soon after you feel your cheeks become wet. You didn’t even realise you were crying, Kuroo’s words piercing through the dam in your heart, letting your sorrow flow completely. Is this his true feelings? People did say that drinking alcohol would always reveal the truth without fail… but wasn’t this too much? Wasn’t it too much for him to pretend everything was fine, not talk about what was bothering him, and gradually begin to ignore you as if you were a ghost in your own home?

This couldn’t be. This truly had to be the last straw.

“You really think that?” You whisper, the anger disappearing, leaving only hurt and despair. You hoped that he would say it was all a joke and that he loved you too much to hurt you like that, just as he did years ago. You wished he would smile at you like everything was okay, and it was all a sick game he was playing. You would have preferred that over this being the truth.

But fate was not so kind to you this time around.

Kuroo scoffs, grabbing another bottle of beer, seemingly a tad bit sober, and chugs it down right away. “Of course,” he says without hesitation once more. It hurts to see him speak with no caution, as if this were a simple everyday conversation, when in reality it was tearing you apart.

He doesn’t say anything after that, taking his beer with him as he makes his way to the bedroom, as if this were just another ordinary night in his life.

But as Kuroo would soon find out, his days would be ordinary no more.

The moment Kuroo leaves the living room, you collapse into the floor, shocked out of your mind. Your thoughts were spiralling inside your head, trying to process what had just happened to you. Kuroo, your husband, your supposed love of your life, your best friend, and your partner in crime, had just declared you a nuisance. A clingy wife who couldn’t do her job properly.

How could he say that? Didn’t he know how hard you tried?

Didn’t he know how much effort you put into making his meals, developing recipes of your own with the hopes that your husband would get the proper nutrition he needs to get through the next few days? Didn’t he know that you had carefully crafted recipe books of all his favourite recipes? Didn’t he know how much you thrived off doing tedious tasks like vacuuming the door, or polishing the vases, knowing that he would appreciate it in the long run?

Didn’t he know just how much you gave up for him? You could have rebelled, you could have lashed out and ran away. This was an arranged marriage after all. But you had fallen in love, and had made a promise with Kuroo to be together with each other through it all, so you didn’t mind the mocking words of others, you didn’t mind not being able to live the life you had always dreamed of deep within. Because at least, you had Kuroo by your side.

But it seems as if he didn’t even want you around anymore. And if that was what he wanted, then so be it. You were always the compliant type, after all.

Kuroo Tetsuro knows that his life was far from perfect, even if everyone else made it out to be the opposite.

Being born as the first born son of a wealthy family, he knew that his life was already laid out for him. He knew he had no choice in the matter. He had a legacy to fulfil, shoes to fit into. His freedom was stripped away the moment he was born, and the only thing he could do about it was live with it.

But everything changed when he met you.

At the ripe age of six, you were an enigma to Kuroo. You looked out of place in the room full of wealthy business men and women, looking to form connections underneath the guise of partying and fine wine. He understood how you felt, although he could never show his dislike for such events, as his father had deeply engraved the sophisticated image in his mind, the disdain burned bright within. He sympathised with you, and if you were going to be someone who’d play a big role in his already written story, then he would make the most of it.

So he reached out his hand, hoping you would take it even with your shy demeanour hindering you, and you did. That night he had taken you to his favourite secret spot in the building, a balcony that had the prettiest view of the city, and was high enough for you to see the stars. He remembers the star-struck look on your face, as if this was the first time you were seeing the night sky in all of its glory, and Kuroo felt satisfied with himself. He liked you, that was a given. You seemed fun, even amidst all your meekness. Hopefully your friendship would last a lifetime, he had prayed as he talked about the constellations that lit up the night sky.

And as if the stars had heard his prayer, it came true.

Even when his father had finally broken the news to him when he was twelve that you were going to be his wife, he didn’t mind. By then he had already formed a deep bond with you. Perhaps it was because the two of you were stuck in the same situation. Two children who had no control of their future and were forced to follow the pre-written plan their parents had laid out for them.

Or maybe it had to do with this underlying urge to protect you, as traditional as that sounds. You were always so timid and soft-spoken, and other kids would often take advantage of that, especially once they knew that you were the daughter of a well-off business woman. Kuroo would often stick up for you, and would always hang by you to make sure that no one would bully you for being you again. From tutoring lessons, to afternoon picnics, to learning sports, the two of you practically did almost everything together.

So it didn’t take long for Kuroo to realise that he had fallen for you.

As cliche as it sounds, it was only a matter of time. You were the only girl in his life whom he got to know inside and out. By then, other girls were already swooning over him, using cheap tricks to try to get into his favour, but he knew better than that. He knew that they were only ever going after him for his physique and status, and not for who he was on the inside.

Even if his marriage with you was preordained, he was sure that everything would work out. After all, you knew each other like the back of your hands. Kuroo could even list everything about you in the blink of an eye: from your likes and dislikes, to your hobbies, and even the things you weren’t particularly good at, Kuroo had it nailed right down to the bat. So it was only natural for him to fall in love.

He fell in love with the way your eyes would sparkle when you read to him the latest book he had bought you as he laid on your lap on your biweekly picnics. He fell in love with the way you viewed the world, of how you voiced your hopes and dreams to the stars above, even if you knew that the probability of them coming true was zero to none. He fell in love with your compassion, with how you wouldn’t hesitate to help anyone in need, even if you didn’t need to. You treated the helpers of your house with respect, and greeted every one of your mother’s employees with a warm smile.

But more than that, Kuroo fell in love with how easy it was to just be himself around you. With everyone else, he was the perfect heir to the Kuroo legacy, a young man with a bright future ahead of him. The perfect bachelor for every woman out there. But around you he could just be Tetsuro. Tetsuro who loved talking about the stars and how bottled water was more dangerous than tap water because of all the plastics. Tetsuro who loved to geek about the chemicals in your latest cosmetic products, gushing to you of what each ingredient did and how they contributed to enhancing your natural beauty. Tetsuro, who was the biggest dork behind closed doors, never failing to spoil and flirt with you because you were just so cute when you got all flustered.

Tetsuro, who was so deeply and madly in love with you, that marriage at nineteen seemed so appealing to him, even if at first it was the thing he dreaded the most in the world.

When his wedding with you rolled around, Kuroo was a bundle of nerves. He hadn’t seen you for so long, his father constantly whisking him away to prepare for the time where he would finally take over the corporation. He had to be mentally and physically prepared for what was to come, and as a result it led to him not seeing you as often as he liked. And the fact that he was seeing you again on your wedding day made him even more nervous than he expected.

How were you? Were you just as nervous as he was? What if you hated the fact that you were going to marry him? You wouldn't, right? I mean, it’s not the best of circumstances when you look at it objectively, but hey, at least you were in this together. Kuroo wonders how stunning you’d look in your dress. You were adamant about not giving him any details, even if he constantly tried to get them from you over text. But you simply told him that he would have to wait and see, killing him to no end.

But damn, you were right. It was definitely worth the wait.

Because when the wedding bells rang and you walked in, hand in hand with his grandfather, Kuro could feel the butterflies churn wildly within him. You were breathtaking. The dress you had chosen suited you perfectly, complimenting your figure and highlighting your beauty like no other. You were like a star shining bright in the sky, and before he knew it, the tears began to stream down his face.

Damn, this was it, he was going to get fucking married to the love of his life.

When he holds your hand for the first time when you finally reach the altar, he holds them as if he were holding the world in the palms of his hands. You were too precious to him. Here he was about to give his whole heart, mind, and soul to you. But he wasn’t sure if you felt the same. But when he finally stares into the eyes he’s come to love, he lets out a soft gasp.

Because he can see the same love he was giving, returned to him tenfold; genuine and true. You never fail to leave him breathless, Kuroo thinks, as he shakily says his vows, allowing himself this one moment of vulnerability because he’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that shit he’s actually getting married to you. From this point onwards you were husband and wife and would be together until fate cruelly snatched you apart.

And as he kisses you in front of the crowd, cradling your face in the palm of his hand, Kuroo makes a promise to himself. That he would never ever take you for granted and would love you until the flames of life burn him into ashes.

And that promise held true for the first few years of your marriage.

The two of you had gone to the countryside for your honeymoon. Even if Kuroo had insisted that the two of you go abroad to make the most of your families’ wealth, you had refused, wanting to enjoy the peace and quiet of your homeland with the person you loved.

If it was possible to fall even more, then Kuroo would probably continue to fall until the deepest depths.

It felt magical to be with you, almost as if you two could take some time off and live the teenage lives you couldn’t have before. The two of you stayed at a family villa, helping out with the nearby farm and spending the nights cooking with each other, and even doing ridiculous science experiments, much to Kuroo’s amusement. This is what he wanted, what he craved and as he saw you run across the sand towards the setting sun, Kuroo felt the vow he made ache deep within him, and he knew within his heart that he would do everything to make you smile.

So he spoiled you with gifts, he showered you with affection, and he gave you all the love he could muster. Even if his company’s executives were wearing him down, ushering him to clubs, he would adamantly refuse, placing a wall over his heart because it was only reserved for you.

Not a day would go by without you being on his mind. Unbeknownst to you, he would wake up just a couple minutes earlier than the two of you usually would just so he could admire the way you cuddled up against him in your sleep, mumbling softly, with drool running down the side of your face. Once you found out you had hid yourself, embarrassed that all your ‘ugly’ sleeping habits had been exposed, yet Kuroo laughed, bringing you closer to his chest as he basked in your love.

He would make an active effort to make working hours a concrete policy for himself. No matter how much his secretary and advisers protest, the moment the clock struck five, Kuroo would dart out of the office, immediately calling you as he made his way back home. Sometimes the two of you would just stay in your shared home, rewatching your favourite show for the thousandth time, while snacking on some cheese and wine, a combination you two had been hooked on the moment you became adults.

Other times, when Kuroo felt extra affectionate, he would take you out on a date. There were some days that the date would be what was expected of a rich young couple: an extravagant dinner in one of the most expensive restaurants in the country. Other days, the two of you would head to the nearest convenience store, clad in hoodies and sweatshirts and hogging all the snacks you could buy, giggling to yourselves knowing just how much both your parents would scold you if they saw you during these days.

Marrying you was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to him.

So why did everything go wrong? Where did everything go wrong?

Before he even realised it, the dates between the two of you were few and far in between, with the recent economic crisis consuming Kuroo until late into the night. His father was barking at his neck, screaming at him to get his shit together because he was no longer a fucking child, he was the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in the country, heck the whole world at this point. He had no time to be all lovey-dovey with his arranged wife, when literal lives were at his hands.

So, like the obedient son he was, Kuroo complied. He felt guilty for having to leave you all on your own, but you would understand, right? You always did. It was a testament to your kindness and compassion. Even without Kuroo saying anything, you wouldn’t get mad. You were just that generous.

So the routine continued and sooner or later days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into years. And before he knew it, the vow he had promised to you remained buried in the back of his mind, forgotten, waiting to be unearthed once more.

However, that didn’t mean Kuroo didn’t suffer. Because he did. Within the time where he had to constantly put on the mask as the ever-capable CEO, he began to see just how lonely he was. He was never home, in fact some would even consider his office to be his home and he would constantly see his workers blooming with love on their faces while he was withering away in the midst of a mountain of paperwork.

First it was Shinsuke from accounting. The two were in the midst of a briefing, when his secretary had barged into the office informing the duo that Shinsuke’s wife had visited with lunch. Kuroo had dismissed Shinsuke early that day, seeing the bright and eager smile on the usually stoic man’s face, allowing him to spend an early lunch break with his wife.

Then it was his secretary. He had caught her rushing to her workspace, hair a little dishevelled, almost as if she had lost track of time, when she was usually so early to work. Yet Kuroo saw once glimpse at the bruising marks on her neck and immediately knew that love had come to stay in her heart.

The last straw perhaps was his friend, Kenma. Aside from you, Kenma was Kuroo’s best friend, and to an extent yours. The three of you were inseparable, save for the times you and Kuroo were dragged away to attend some boring corporate party. When he heard the news that he had gotten together with some guy named Hinata Shoyo, he was shocked. His best friend looked so happy, and there was a certain glow in his eyes that he had never seen before.

Kuroo began to despise the love he had after seeing all of that.

What’s with you? You were his wife yet you weren’t visiting him during lunch break. A part of him knew that he had mentioned to you once that you didn’t have to do that but there was a part of him that wanted you to go out of your way to make him smile.

But no, you stook to sending him off with a half-assed lunch that would grow cold by the time Kuroo would finally eat. These days, he couldn’t even eat the lunch you made for him because of how bitter it made him feel, telling his secretary to give the food to a random janitor who would probably appreciate it more than he could.

It felt like you weren’t doing enough for him. Kuroo began to resent you, to despise you for not putting as much effort as he was in your relationship. Who knew you were such a selfish person behind closed doors. He should have known that you would act differently after marriage.

So he began to let himself go. Finally allowing himself to attend those rowdy company dinners, even going with some executives to a nearby nightclub, drinking the night away. Alcohol felt like a haven to him, it made him feel numb and empty which was exactly what he needed to escape the bitterness in his heart. He would go home, not saying a word, trying to conceal the alcohol in his system to the best of his abilities, not knowing how much his actions were affecting you. But you deserved it, anyway. You who was selfish and self-centred and never appreciated everything he had done for you.

And then, everything came crashing down. He had drowned himself in alcohol after seeing his workers and their lovers get along so happily in the last company dinner. He came home till early in the morning, only to find you waiting for him. So now you want to show you care? How fucking sweet of you.

Kuroo doesn’t know what happened, but in moments he had stumbled, screamed his heart out and left you alone heading back to the bedroom to try and escape the void in his heart, even if it was clinging to him, not wanting to let him go. He’s not sure what he did nor what happened, but it’s not like the worst could have occurred, righ?. Oh well he would just deal with it tomorrow.

But tomorrow came, and you were gone.

When Kuroo woke up, his head was pounding, and he could feel the regret begin to creep up onto him. Since when did he drink until he couldn’t anymore? He wasn’t supposed to be an alcoholic, it had been drilled into his system just how much of a danger consuming alcohol could be.

When he looks over to the side, the first thing he notices was how you weren’t there. His eyes furrowed in confusion. He was always up before you, so where the heck were you, he then looks to the other side, about to reach his hands towards his phone when he freezes. His eyes zone into the alarm clock placed conveniently atop the desk on his side of his bed.

It was 1 P.M. He had overslept. Fuck.

Scrambling, Kuroo rushes out of the bedroom immediately, quickly heading towards the shower and spraying his hair with some dry shampoo, messily styling it just the way he liked it— a part of his routine that he could never miss, no matter how late he was. Soon after, he gets dressed, muttering curses under his breath of how dumb he was for being so drunk that he slept in. What if his father were to hear of this? He would be scolded until his father could scold no more.

“(Y/N)!” He calls, voice laced with anger. His head was pounding, the hangover getting to him. That, paired with the intense stimulation of the last five minutes made him feel as if he was in a frenzy. He walks through the hall into the living room loudly, ready to scold the living shit out of you for not waking him up on time.

But you weren’t there.

The living room was empty, void of any life. The lights were switched off, as if they hadn’t been used since last night, confusing Kuroo. Where in the world were you? There was no breakfast (or in this case lunch) set out on the dining table like usual, instead the plates were carefully drying beside the sink, as if you hadn’t bothered to make him breakfast at all.

What was with you? Had you become that ungrateful?

Frustrated, Kuroo walks around your shared penthouse, trying to look for any sight of you, but you are nowhere to be found. It was as if you had vanished, disappeared without a trace. Not even a note left behind. It was unusual, because in all the years Kuroo had known you, you would never do something on your own without letting him know.

Perhaps you had gone out, Kuroo muttered to himself. But frankly, at this point he didn’t give it much thought. He was too fed up. He was late to some random work meeting that he honestly had no reason to be in attendance if it weren’t for the fact that the other company’s CEO would be joining as well. On top of that his headache was killing him. Why did he have to drink so much when he couldn’t even handle his alcohol well?

Oh right, you.

Freeing his phone from aeroplane mode, Kuroo sighs at the influx of texts and missed calls from his secretary. All he wanted to do at that point of time was to take the day off, but he couldn’t. There was no such thing as a day off for a CEO of a billion dollar company, his father had always told him. He was meant to be there 24/7 if he could, otherwise he would be considered a failure.

Begrudgingly he continues his routine, having trouble with his own tie, cursing you out for it because you always did it for him, yet the one time he needed it the most you weren’t even there to help him in his time of panic. How selfish.

Later that night he would give you the scolding of a lifetime, just you wait.

Yet, when Kuroo came back that evening, you still weren’t there.

Kuroo enters the empty penthouse, ready to deal with whatever ungrateful excuse you would spew from your mouth, yet like that morning, you were nowhere to be seen. The house was empty, exactly the way Kuroo had left it, as if you hadn’t come back home at all. Kuroo’s eye’s furrow, more than confused.

Where were you? Why weren’t you home? How selfish could you be for staying out for nearly almost a day while he was out there slaving away in the office?

His anger doubled. Grabbing his phone, he immediately calls you, your name with a heart beside it glaring tauntingly at his face. He would have to remove that, Kuroo thinks to himself. Because at this point everything lovey-dovey with you made him pissed.

You don’t pick up.

He calls again.

Still no answer.

After what felt like the hundredth call, Kuroo gives up, angrily throwing his phone across the room, not caring about the damage. In his fit of rage he destroys the once cosy room, grabbing anything he could and slamming it to the floor.

Where the fuck were you? Why weren’t you home? How could you do this to him?

After what felt like forever just prancing around his now half destroyed living room and trying to calm himself down, Kuroo grabs his phone again, the screen cracked and barely usable, but somehow he makes it work.

He scrolls through his contacts before settling on one he hasn’t contacted in what honestly felt like years.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. Thrice. Kuroo’s feet tap on the floor impatiently, his patience on thin ice before finally someone answers.

“Kenma,” Kuroo says, tone low and deadly before his best friend can even say hi. “Have you seen (Y/N)?”

It’s silent on the other line, and Kuroo can feel the threads within him begin to snap. What was taking him so long to answer? It was just a simple yes or no, wasn’t it? Why was he hesitating?

“Yeah,” is all Kenma says, sighing. “I’ve seen her.”

“Well where the fuck is she?” Kuroo spats, pissed beyond belief. “I swear she’s been nothing but ungrateful. She won’t even answer any of my calls, knowing full well I don’t have the luxury of time to deal with her bullshit!”

Kenma stays silent while Kuroo pants, the anger wearing him out at the seams.

“Tell her to come home right now.”

“No.”

“No?!” Kuroo exclaims, shocked and confused.

“No.” Kenma repeats sternly. “Until you get your head straight and your attitude checked, you’re not seeing her Kuroo and frankly she doesn’t want to see you.”

Without even a goodbye, Kenma hangs up, leaving Kuroo to stare at his phone in disbelief. What was that? What did Kenma mean by that? Why did he have to get his attitude checked when you were the one being problematic here? It was clear to him that Kenma was on your side, and he didn’t understand it one bit.

Why was the world against him?

It’s been a few weeks, almost nearing a month since Kuroo last saw you.

Ever since that conversation with Kenma, Kuroo decided to drown himself in work and alcohol completely, not even bothering to clean the mess he made that night. Every day for the past few weeks has been a constant cycle of waking up, drowsily doing his routine, heading to work, immersing himself in meetings and paperwork, then heading to a bar, drinking his worries away and finally heading home only to pass out for the cycle to repeat.

It was an exhausting cycle, one that made Kuroo feel worn down to his bones. He swears the eyebags under his eyes grew darker and stress can be seen on every inch of his face. Thank goodness none of his family had come to visit these past few weeks. Otherwise they would comment nothing but crude remarks on his overall look and appearance. That came first to them, afterall.

But one night as Kuroo opens the door to his penthouse sluggishly, he finds that the lights are on. That’s weird, he thinks to himself, they’re usually off. Cautiously, he makes his way to the living room only to stop in his tracks.

Because there you were, sitting on the couch, drinking coffee.

You were thinner compared to the last time Kuroo saw you. Your eyes were puffy and red, as if you had been crying nonstop for what felt like months. You were wearing an old cardigan, wrapping it over your body, as if you were trying to shield yourself from something. What that something was, Kuroo didn’t know.

In all honesty, the anger Kuroo initially felt had subsided, and now all that was left was confusion, and questions he couldn’t find the answer to. Why did you leave? Where did you go? Were you safe? Were you happy?

Kuroo takes a seat opposite to you, not really sure what to make of your return. The two of you had never had a major argument to this degree before. Sure there were measly fights here and there, but it was nothing compared to this. This fight wore him down completely, and he can see it did the same to you, but he wasn’t sure as to why.

Silence envelopes the two of you. But it wasn’t the comfortable silence that Kuroo was used to whenever he was with you. No, this silence was more daunting. So daunting in fact that Kuroo felt that if he were to even flinch the silence would burst into an outrage of bottled emotions.

So he stays silent. Because maybe for once that’s what he needed to do. Listen. Because otherwise, he wouldn’t know what to do.

“How have you been?” Is all you say, not even looking him in the eye. You stare straight into the unused TV, staring at your shadowed reflection. Kuroo can’t help but look at you, observing the way your lips were pursed into a thin line, your eyes stern as if it were void of any emotion, yet somehow Kuroo knew that it was just you trying to mask it all underneath. A nasty trick you managed to perfect over years under your mother’s watch.

“Not well, as you can see.” He gestures to the messy room that remained dishevelled in your absence. Silence befalls the two of you once more, causing a frown to form on Kuroo’s lips. He remembers just how easy it was to fall into conversation with you. It was almost as natural as breathing to him. How did it ever reach this point?

You look distant. Different from the (Y/n) Kuroo had come to know. Now that he thinks of it, this was perhaps the first time Kuroo was taking a proper look at you in what felt like months, maybe even years. He didn’t know.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, trying to gain epiphany from the endless darkness he had submerged himself into. You say nothing for a while, choosing to stare mindlessly at your reflection, almost as if you were trying to compose your thoughts, which you were.

You weren’t supposed to come back that day. You had no plans to. But somehow, while driving on the road on the way to get some groceries for you, Kenma, and his boyfriend who had so generously allowed you to stay over and be your shoulder to lean on while you and Kuroo were having this dispute, you found yourself driving to the parking lot that lead to what once was your home.

Perhaps it was fate. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, even if you were still incredibly hurt and disappointed in Kuroo, you missed him. Terribly so. The first few nights in Kenma’s, you were stuck with thoughts about him. Wondering how he’d react to your leave. When you overheard Kuroo calling Kenma, you held your breath, not knowing what to expect. Yet he was still the same. The changed man you weren’t sure if you loved as much anymore.

“Do you remember what you said to me the night before I left?” You question back, not giving him an answer straight away. You wanted to know if he meant what he said. Those words had pierced through you and left you distraught in its wake. You sincerely hoped all his words weren’t meant and it was just his stupidity acting out for the first time in a while. But deep down you knew that wasn’t the case.

Kuroo says nothing, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he has no recollection of what had occurred that night. He had no memory of his words that pained and tortured your soul these past weeks. The emotions begin to bubble within you, his ignorance another arrow to your already fragile heart.

“You called me clingy.” You say, finally looking him in the eye. “You called me a fucking parasite that leeched of your wealth Kuroo.” The pain in your voice and the hurt in your eyes could no longer be covered at that point, and frankly you didn’t care. You wanted Kuroo to see just how devastated he made you feel.

“How could you say that?” Kuroo was left speechless, hearing first hand the harsh words that he spat at you when he was flat out drunk. Did he really say that? He couldn’t have, could he? Sure, he hated you for not doing as much as other wives and lovers, but he would never call you a parasite, right?

“(Y/n) I would never—”

“—But you did.” You cut him off. “You said all of those nasty things and made me feel worthless, Kuroo.”

“I–I was drunk,” Kuroo defended, eyes furrowing. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Then why did you act like you meant it?”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, feeling the tears about to fall. This was the first time you were spilling out your worries and feelings to him, and frankly you were nervous. You had no idea what his reaction would be. But you were at the last straw. And this time, you needed to be heard.

“You were acting distant, Kuroo. Did you know that?” You whisper, letting your vulnerability show. “No more greetings when you get home for work. No more idle chatter during dinner. Not even one hug and one kiss for nearly a year! Sure you may be tired, and I completely understand that. But was a simple hello too much to ask?”

Almost immediately, Kuroo scoffs, your words unbelievable to him. “What about you?” He taunts back. “You never visit me at work. You give me half-assed lunches. You don’t put any ounce into our relationship when I’m out here doing the most, and you’re blaming me for being distant? (Y/N) the distant one is you!”

Silence befalls you once more, the weight of his words settling in, making you shake in disbelief. “Kuroo.” You say, and Kuroo is momentarily shocked from the icy tone in your voice. It was something that he hadn’t heard of throughout the years. Oddly enough, the look you had on your face reminded Kuroo of your mom.

Figures.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Alright?” You glare at him, your sadness beginning to churn into anger from the sheer disbelief of Kuroo’s words. “You may provide for us financially, Kuroo, and that I will never deny. But you had never in the past year, or even more at this point, ever provided emotionally. You changed Kuroo. You became the man your father wanted to be, not the man I fell in love with.”

“Then maybe you should have done more!” Kuroo exclaimed, overcome with emotion. “Instead of sitting around like some fucking pathetic trophy wife, maybe you should have put some fucking effort to save our relationship!”

“Don’t put all the blame on me Kuroo Tetsuro,” you exclaim, voice rising. You were not going to back down and let Kuroo trample over your dignity and heart. You were going to fight. Because this was the least you could do to protect your already broken heart. “I did try. And I almost lost myself doing so. A relationship goes two fucking ways. If you can’t give me even an ounce of your time, then what are we even fighting for?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, (Y/N). What you considered trying is half assed compared to what other lovers give. Yours doesn’t even compare. I mean giving me soup when others gave their husbands meat? Do you know how many times I had to throw away your shitty lunch boxes because of how infuriated they made me feel?”

Your eyes widen, thrown aback by your husband’s words. “You threw them away?” You whisper, feeling the tears threatening to fall.

“Of course I fucking did. Who wouldn’t?”

Just like that, your heart collapsed completely, leaving nothing but an empty void of despair and sorrow in its wake.

“Fine then. If this isn’t working, then let’s get a divorce.”

“What?”

“Let’s get a divorce.” You repeat, feeling the tears begin to fall. “If you won’t wake up and see how shitty and selfish you’re being then I don’t think I can keep fighting anymore, Kuroo. Let’s get a divorce.”

Kuroo scoffs, looking you up and down in disdain.

“Fine, let’s do it. It was a waste of time to stay married to you, anyways.”

to be continued

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #nekoma x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #tetsuro x you

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yumeyooa · 3 years

Text

Darkest Day

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi doesn't like pokemon, doesn't want one, doesn't care to be around them. What happens when he finds an abandoned pokemon during one of the hardest weeks of his year? Can you help him through it? Genre: Pokemon Trainer AU, fluff, angst Word Count: 8,549 Rating: T Warnings: None

Notes: This is for The BTS Writers' Club October prompt, Spooky.

Thanks to @eatjeanjin and @moon-write for reading over this for me, and thanks to @foxbroart for the crazy awesome banner.

You called it Yoongi’s Darkest Day, but it was more like a week.

He’d hide himself away from the world. He wouldn’t call. He wouldn’t text. If he left his house, it was always entirely alone. He’d made it clear a long time ago that he didn’t want you around for that week. He wanted to be alone, to go through it alone, to feel his feelings and process his emotions and come out of it on the other side alone.

And you hated it, but you understood. He knew you were there if he needed you. And part of you, every year, hoped he would call you, hoped that he would admit that going through it alone was unhealthy. You hoped he would finally let you be there for him in the way you knew he wanted but was too stubborn and hurt to recognize. But you never pushed. You let him hide away for as long as he needed.

You didn’t even really know what prompted the Darkest Day. You’d heard rumors. People talked about how anti-social Yoongi was, how he was rude, and cold, and stoic. They said that his disappearance every year was nefarious, or that it was him going off to be a part of some murder cult, or that he had some secret family somewhere far away. But you didn’t believe them. You knew Yoongi--the real Yoongi. You knew that he was just quiet and preferred to listen. You knew that he cared a lot, but that he had no patience for mean-spirited people. So you knew he had to have a good reason to disappear for a week at a time.

He just wasn’t ready to tell you. Maybe he’d never be ready to tell you. But you were determined to be there if and when he was ready to talk.

So it was startling when your phone rang two days into the Darkest Day. And yeah, you were a little nervous because what if something terrible had happened? But you answered your phone anyway, not expecting to be sneaking around the weird alley of the train station with him not even 20 minutes after his call.

But how could you say no to him? You’d been waiting for literal years for him to ask you for help, and here it was, unconventional though it may be.

Yoongi carried the paper bag of pokemon food he’d asked you to bring. You were confused, but you followed him anyway.

“What are we looking for?” you asked softly, following him closely down the alley.

The buildings were close together, the alley barely wide enough for four people to pass through comfortably. It was surprisingly dark in the alley, despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon and the sky was a clear blue. You didn’t like the feeling the alley gave you, so you stayed close to Yoongi.

He shushed you. “He should be around here somewhere.”

“Yoongi.” You stopped walking, annoyed, and grabbed his arm. “Who?”

He sighed, pushing his box-dyed grey hair off his forehead. He looked exhausted, and you could see an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. “I was here yesterday and I saw this Gengar sitting outside on the steps by itself. I asked around, and the guy at the cafe across the street said that it used to come here with its trainer, but he said he hasn’t seen the trainer in weeks. I guess the Gengar keeps coming back to wait for its trainer.” Yoongi frowned. “It drifted over to the cafe this morning when I was over there. It looked hungry. But it got scared by a truck and floated off.”

You hummed. Weird. Normally, Yoongi hated pokemon. Hate was maybe a strong word for it, but he had a general dislike of them. He never tried to catch a pokemon of his own, and actively went out of his way to avoid the wild monsters that wandered through the city. He didn’t even like your Nickit, despite the fact that the fox pokemon was sweet, if not a little sassy.

So it was a little strange--okay, a lot strange--that he was going to such an effort to find this random, trainerless Gengar.

He took your hand as you continued to walk, your fingers loose in his grip. His eyes silently searched the alley for any signs of the abandoned Gengar--a too-dark shadow, unexplained movement, a trash can with eyes.

“Guess it’s not here,” Yoongi said after you’d searched the length of the alley twice. You couldn’t believe it, but he actually sounded sad.

“Maybe it went home.” You doubted your own words, but you were trying to stay positive for his sake.

“Maybe.” He sounded sad and dejected. He squeezed your fingertips lightly. You hadn’t realized that he was still holding your hand.

You took a few steps out of the alley, your free hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sudden sun, when you heard a hiss and a clatter from behind you. Yoongi spun around, his hand dropping yours. When you looked, it seemed as though the wall of the train station had some sort of bulge, a large shadow growing and emerging from the bricks.

Beside you, Yoongi scoffed. “There you are,” he chided. His tone was gentle, caring even. Who was this man and what had he done to your best friend?

Yoongi approached the shadow as it fully emerged, a large purple blob plopping unceremoniously onto the ground. It watched Yoongi, its sharp red eyes focused on his movements. But when Yoongi was within a foot of where it sat, the Gengar dissolved into the shadows on the pavement below.

Sighing, Yoongi sat on the ground, opening up the paper bag and pulling out the container of food you had brought. You weren’t sure if ghost types had a preference, but your Nickit liked it, so you figured it couldn’t be too bad. When he opened the container, Yoongi sniffed and almost gagged.

“Yum,” he said dryly, placing the food on the ground and cautiously sliding it toward the shadow on the pavement. “Here. Eat.”

Always so graceful with his words.

You sat beside him, trying not to think of how many people have thrown up in the alley. Yoongi shifted, his knee touching yours. Despite the calm front he was putting up, you could sense the tension in how he was sitting, how he held his shoulders, how he unconsciously chewed the skin on the side of his thumb. You reached over and gently tugged his hand away from his mouth, interlocking your fingers with his to prevent him from continuing to bite his cuticles.

Silence enveloped you as you sat there, waiting for the Gengar to come out of hiding again. Thankfully, you had no plans for the rest of the day, although if you did, you would have gladly cancelled them. Yoongi’s appearance worried you--the dark circles and disheveled hair and rumpled, baggy clothes--and though he was hyper-focused on the Gengar, you wanted to be there for him. So you sat there in complete silence, your thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin of Yoongi’s hand.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but eventually, the shadow in front of you started to swirl and bulge, two dark spikes beginning to emerge from the ground. When the Gengar was fully emerged, it eyed the container of food warily.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi coaxed, gesturing to the food. He offered the pokemon a soft smile, his catlike eyes crinkling with the action.

The Gengar watched Yoongi carefully, its red eyes following every subtle movement. Now that it was sitting in front of you, fully emerged, you were able to really look at the pokemon. It was small--smaller than normal--and Yoongi was right. It was less round than a Gengar normally should be. You wondered if it had been eating at all since its trainer disappeared.

Finally, the pokemon reached forward, eyes never leaving you and Yoongi. But it grabbed a piece of the pokemon food out of the container, slowly bringing it up to its mouth. It watched you as it chewed, slowly but surely eating through the food you had brought.

For the rest of Yoongi’s Darkest Day and a few days after, it became part of your routine to meet Yoongi at the train station. You would bring a container of pokemon food--after the second day, you made it a point to actually buy something specifically for ghost and poison types--and you and Yoongi would walk around in an attempt to find the Gengar.

It took a few days of searching for it, but eventually, the Gengar would be sitting on the steps of the train station waiting for the two of you to show up. It would hide in the shadows of the steps, waiting and watching but still scared of the strangers hurrying about their days. But it would emerge as soon as it saw Yoongi, its red eyes following his movements almost exclusively. It didn’t seem to care that you were there. It trusted you enough to not hide from you, sure, but it seemed to latch onto Yoongi exclusively.

Perhaps it sensed your Nickit.

And it was very cute seeing how the Gengar looked at Yoongi like he was some sort of celebrity.

The days after the Darkest Day turned into weeks turned into a month, and you were still visiting the train station. And you had started to notice something interesting. When you left the station, after the pokemon had eaten and you’d spent some time with it, it would follow you and Yoongi. Not for long. A block or two at most. But the purple ghost would toddle along beside Yoongi, its short legs and round frame causing it to almost waddle. Then, when it got too far from the station, it would look back almost sadly, and it would stop.

“I wish there was a way to explain that its trainer wasn’t coming back,” Yoongi groaned, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

He was laying on the floor of your living room, a blanket stolen from the back of your couch balled up under his head as a pillow. His soaked t-shirt clung to him in odd places--parts of his sleeve stuck to his bicep, you could see the light definition of his abdomen through the fabric hugging his tummy. Outside, rain pattered against your window, the dark sky rolling with rumbles of thunder. Your apartment was closer to the train station. You had run when the deluge started, the fat, cold drops spurring you on faster. You hadn’t missed the sadness in the Gengar’s eyes when you left.

Apparently, neither had Yoongi.

You had your arms shoved in a hoodie--Yoongi’s hoodie--to stave off the chill of the outside. Curious and slightly amused, you watched him from your position on the couch. Your Nickit laid at your side, its broom-like tail curling around its body and covering its little nose as it napped. You stroked its soft fur gently, frowning slightly as Yoongi huffed. You knew he was still thinking about the Gengar and how hurt the shadow pokemon had looked when the two of you started to run away.

A clap of thunder shook the walls of your apartment, causing Yoongi to jump slightly. Seconds later, his phone rang, just once. A text message. He read it and swore.

“Jin says the power’s out in our building.”

“Stay here,” you told him softly.

He nodded once, and that was that. You hadn’t really expected an argument. This was nothing new. Yoongi stayed over often enough that he had clothes in a drawer in your dresser. You kept a stock of his favorite coffee brand because he complained when you offered him anything else. You even bought toothbrushes in packs of two. Not because it was economical--though it certainly was--but because Yoongi needed a way to keep up with personal hygiene, too.

You knew that none of this arrangement was normal for people who were only close friends, but you refused to let yourself consider the alternative. That would make it real, and you weren’t particularly ready to face the implications of any of it yet.

“You should adopt the Gengar,” he said suddenly. When you looked at him, he was staring at you. His dark eyes were intense, and you could see something in them--some kind of emotion--but you couldn’t tell what.

You laughed, the sudden noise jolting your Nickit awake. It scurried off the couch and away--probably to your bedroom. “That Gengar wants nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi scoffed. “It likes you.”

“It likes you.” You slid off the couch and onto the floor, scooting closer to him. He lifted his head from his blanket-pillow, adjusting how he was laying so he could plop his head against your thigh. “It likes me because it associates me with you.”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything. His brow furrowed and he frowned, refusing to look at you even as your hand found his hair, your fingers carding through the unnaturally ashen strands.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned softly, pushing his bangs off his forehead. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know that face.”

“You know I don’t want to do the whole trainer thing.” Yoongi sighed, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. His long fingers dug into his eye sockets, and for a second, you were concerned that it was painful. But then he let one of his hands drop, his other rubbing down his face tiredly. “I can barely take care of myself half the time.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

He snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. “I disappear for a week every year because I get sad. Can’t really do that when something else relies on you.”

You frowned. You’d never been sure if the Darkest Day was intentional or not. You hadn’t wanted to ask him. It seemed too personal, and despite how close the two of you were, it seemed like a line that, once crossed, you couldn’t go back from. But knowing that he knew what he was doing--that his isolation was planned and purposeful--you hated to admit that it hurt a little bit. Yoongi was your best friend. You wanted him to feel like he could rely on you and trust you with the heavy stuff.

“It’s okay to be sad sometimes, Yoongi.” You kept your voice soft and gentle as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Everyone gets sad. It’s human.”

“Not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

For a while, Yoongi was silent. He sat up, scooting backwards so that his back rested against the couch, his knees tucked up close to his chest. You let him go, let him retreat into himself, let him stay quiet. You figured you had waited for him to come to you during the Darkest Day, you could wait for him to want to talk to you.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the night. You fell asleep with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, like you were standing on some sort of precipice, unsure of whether to back off or take the leap.

Something woke you up. You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the rain that was still pelting against the window. Or maybe a sudden flash of lightning. Or maybe it was Yoongi shifting beside you. He was curled up in front of you, one hand tucked between his knees. You had wrapped yourself around him in your sleep, your body curled close to his, your arms encircling his waist. The hand that wasn’t tucked between his knees clutched your hand, his fingers laced loosely with yours.

He shifted again, and you heard him inhale shakily. You could feel him trembling slightly and you pressed ever closer, moulding yourself against him in hopes that, if he was cold--Yoongi was almost always a little cold--the extra body heat would help. But he continued to shiver and after a second of silence, he let go of your hand to wipe at his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, unsure if he could hear you over the rain.

Yoongi shook his head and you hummed, pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade.

You laid there for a while, listening to him breathe and feeling his body move with each breath. You sighed. “I know you know this,” you told him quietly, half-mumbling into his t-shirt. “At least, I hope you know this. But I’m here for you. Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”

His hand found yours again, and he squeezed your fingers in acknowledgement.

Silence fell upon you again, even the thunder dying down to just leave the rain pattering against your window. For a moment, you thought Yoongi had fallen asleep, but his breathing wasn’t even enough, wasn’t shallow enough. So you laid there quietly, mentally luxuriating in the softness of his shirt against your cheek but refusing to go back to sleep before you knew he was okay.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “When I was a kid, my parents both had pokemon.”

You knew that. You’d met both of Yoongi’s parents. His dad’s Crobat was surprisingly kind, and his mother’s Swellow had the softest feathers you’d ever seen. You had always wondered how Yoongi could have grown up surrounded by pokemon and not come out of it with a love of the creatures.

“They got me a Litten for my eighth birthday.”

He readjusted then, rolling onto his back so that he could stare up at the ceiling. You gave him a bit of space, one of your arms coming up to support your head so that you could look at him properly. Yoongi kept a hold on your other hand, clinging to you loosely. You let him rest your joined hands against his stomach.

“I loved that cat,” he said softly, his thumb absently rubbing against your hand. “Back then, I had no idea what was wrong with it. I just knew that it couldn’t use its fire moves and that it had trouble walking. Mom and Dad said it was sick, but I didn’t care. I’d come home from school every day and I’d play with it and carry it around the neighborhood on walks. But it just kept getting sicker and sicker.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. You waited silently, patiently, giving him time to collect himself. Yoongi was in touch with his emotions more than most, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed crying.

“When I got older, I did some research.” His dark eyes met yours briefly before darting to the side toward the window. “Hip dysplasia, respiratory issues, epilepsy, and heart disease. It never stood a chance.” Yoongi sighed, loosening his grip on your hand so that he could play with your fingers. You could see the tracks of his tears in the low light of your bedroom. “When Litten died, I had barely turned nine. I was devastated.”

The Darkest Day. Every year, like clockwork, the Darkest Day happened seven weeks after Yoongi’s birthday.

He swallowed thickly before continuing. “They got it at a breeder mill. They never said it, but how else does a pokemon get all those problems? Either poor Litten lost the genetic lottery purely by chance, or the jackass breeder didn’t know what the hell they were doing.” The shadows on Yoongi’s brow darkened when he frowned, and you could sense more than see the tension in his jaw. “Either way, Litten didn’t deserve it. My parents tried to get me a new pokemon a few months after... “ His voice caught slightly and he cleared his throat again. “A Poochyena. But I couldn’t bring myself to love it. It hurt too much.”

“I’m so sorry.” You pushed his hair off his forehead gently.

“It’s....” He shrugged, dark eyes finally meeting yours. “It’ll just never be the same, you know? I don’t want to replace Litten. It wasn’t his fault he…”

He trailed off and silence enveloped you once again. You stroked his hair once more before going back to leaning on your hand, watching him. His eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Outside, the rain was finally beginning to die down.

“You wouldn’t be replacing him,” you told him softly, testing the waters. “You can still love Litten and care about another pokemon. Of course they won’t compare. But I think that’s a good thing.”

He hummed. A soft rumble of thunder sounded outside, the last vestige of the storm. “Do you think Gengar’s okay?”

You couldn’t answer that. If Yoongi’s information was correct, the ghost pokemon had been abandoned by its trainer. This had been the first major storm since Yoongi had found the Gengar. You had no idea how it had weathered the storm, if it had been scared of the thunder, if it had been able to get out of the rain.

“Do you want to go check on it?”

Yoongi shook his head. But then, he paused. “Yeah. I kind of do.”

And that was how you found yourself at the train station at two o’clock in the morning, searching the alley for the plump purple shadow. It was cold, the chill of the storm still clung to the air and the soggy ground did nothing to help your freezing feet. Neither of you had bothered to put on actual clothes--you had pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and the hoodie Yoongi had bought two sizes too big specifically so you could share it.

Yoongi clutched your hand tightly as you searched, and for a moment, you were transported back to the Darkest Day, when he had first called you to help him feed the Gengar. How much and yet how little had changed since then.

Eventually, you found the Gengar. It was sitting under an overhang on the steps at the side entrance of the station, staring at its feet gloomily. As soon as it heard your footsteps approaching, it started to dissolve into the pavement.

“It’s us!” Yoongi called, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. The train station closed at midnight, and while the city was busy enough that it wasn’t entirely suspicious that you were out so late, it certainly wouldn’t be great if you managed to disturb all of the neighbors.

The Gengar froze, the lower half of its body hidden in the shadows of the steps. Its red eyes watched the two of you warily. It didn’t look particularly happy.

Carefully, Yoongi took a few steps closer. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, crouching down in front of the pokemon. “I was worried about you in the storm.” The Gengar huffed and looked away. “It’s chilly out. Are you cold?” Yoongi attempted, his tone placating.

From a few steps away, you watched as the ghost pokemon slowly let its guard down. Its red eyes softened, and it frowned ever so slightly.

Yoongi sighed. “I’m sorry we left you out here. We shouldn’t have done that.” Quickly, he corrected himself. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked over at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. He stared at the logo on your hoodie--his hoodie--for what felt like an eternity. Then, he took a deep breath and turned back to the Gengar.

“Did you… Do you want to come home with us?” You could hear the nerves in his tone, the slight wobble in his voice.

The Gengar sat silently, staring at Yoongi. It didn’t move. It didn’t pull itself from the shadows. It just stared.

“I know you have a trainer,” Yoongi said quickly, attempting to smooth over the situation. “So it wouldn’t even need to be a permanent thing. I just… feel bad that you’re out here all alone.”

Eons passed. Your toes froze in your sneakers. But still, you stood there, slightly behind Yoongi as he crouched in front of the purple ghost. If you hadn’t been sure of it before, you were convinced of it now: Yoongi could probably convince you to jump off a bridge. He never would do that, because he was a good person and a kind and benevolent being, but looking back over your years of friendship, standing outside of a train station at two in the morning wasn’t even the weirdest situation he had managed to drag you into.

So yeah, you were pretty sure if he asked, you would jump off a bridge.

Eventually, though, the Gengar slithered the lower half of its body out of the shadows, its little legs phasing into existence in a transparent gradient. It reached forward and Yoongi grabbed its little hand. Gengar smiled at that, its eyes falling closed and a wide, toothy grin spreading across its face.

Yoongi stood then, the Gengar’s hand still in his own, and turned to you. “Do you uh… mind if we still crash at your place?”

You laughed and nodded. He grabbed your hand as he passed you, leading you and Gengar back towards your apartment for the night.

The power outage at Yoongi’s apartment complex had been more significant than anyone had initially realized. Apparently, during the storm, a bolt of lightning had hit something electrical on the roof of one of the buildings and sent a surge through the complex, shorting circuits and frying wires all through the system. Some parts of the building needed to be rewired, and then the city had to inspect everything to make sure it was safe.

Two weeks later, Yoongi was still crashing at your place.

You didn’t mind. Honestly, you didn’t. Yoongi was far from the worst roommate in the world--he cleaned up after himself, and he was quiet, and he was a kickass cook. And Gengar wasn’t too bad, either. It seemed to get along with Nickit, but it mostly kept to itself, seemingly entertained by phasing in and out of walls.

It was just… for two weeks, you’d barely gotten any sleep.

You weren’t quite sure why, either. All you knew was that you would wake up exhausted, as if you had just spent eight hours running a marathon instead of resting. Some days, you would wake up with a pounding headache that couldn’t be touched by over-the-counter medication. Other days, you would wake up and your whole body would hurt, like you had spent all night with muscle cramps.

The lack of sleep was starting to get to you. You could feel your fuse getting shorter and shorter, and you were almost always grumpy, even with Yoongi. So when he plopped himself down on your couch after work one evening, you fought the urge to explode.

“Jin says the landlord thinks it’s going to be another week at least,” Yoongi reported, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

He didn’t deserve your frustrations, you tried to remind yourself. He was just doing his best.

“Great,” you said dryly. You could hear the snap in your voice, and when you saw the corners of his mouth turn down, you knew he had heard it, too. “I’m sorry,” you said immediately, sighing and running a hand through your hair. “I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

He hummed in understanding. Normally, you loved how level and even tempered he was, how understanding he could be. Yoongi never judged you too harshly, giving you the benefit of the doubt, even when you probably didn’t deserve it. Even his kindness was starting to annoy you.

“Do you want to try to take a nap?” he asked softly, turning slightly so that he was better facing you. “I can put something boring on tv, and you can get comfortable?”

For a moment, you wanted to snap at him again, to tell him that no, you didn’t want to take a nap. It was six in the evening, and there was no way you would sleep at night if you took a nap now. But the smile he gave you was so soft, and his arms looked inviting, and really, who cared if you couldn’t sleep that night? It wasn’t like you could get rest anyway. So you nodded, just once, and he pulled you into his chest.

You’d always been amazed at how natural cuddling with Yoongi felt. Your bodies fit together well. His torso and legs were the perfect length for you to curl around when you were laying down, his shoulders were the perfect height for you to lean against. You knew most people were confused by your relationship.

Lying there on the couch with him, your head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, you felt yourself begin to drift. Yoongi was warm and soft, despite the fact that he had been hitting the gym more frequently. And he had put on one of those Behind the Music documentaries where the narrator was just dronelike enough that it was soothing to listen to on a low volume.

You were asleep in no time.

It was dark, darker than you’d ever experienced before. At first, you thought maybe the power had gone out. But no, that wasn’t right. This darkness felt foreboding, ominous, almost primordial. And it went on forever. You weren’t sure how you knew that, but as soon as the thought entered your mind, you knew it was true. The inky blackness had no end, no beginning. It just was.

And it was thick. Like heavy fog in the mountains on a midsummer morning. You could feel it in your lungs, how the air was saturated and oppressive, could feel how it weighed your body down as you moved. Every breath you took was a little difficult, as if you were taking in barely enough oxygen.

A flash of light off to your left drew your attention, and you made your way to it, moving carefully. As you got closer, a pit started to form in your stomach--a strange, nauseating dropping sensation, as if you were in perpetual freefall.

The light was blinding. You had no idea how you were moving closer to it--your legs and arms felt like lead. Closing your eyes didn’t help, the flashing shined through your eyelids in bright hues of reds and oranges. The brightness hurt, and as you squeezed your eyes tight against it, your ears started to ring.

One last flash, brighter than the others, and then it all stopped.

When the spots cleared from your eyes, you could see a figure in front of you. He wasn’t facing you, but you would recognize the box-dyed blue-grey hair anywhere.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was cold, his tone even. For a moment, you didn’t think he was talking to you. But then his dark eyes met yours, and you could see the annoyance in them. Of course he was talking to you. Who else would he be talking to? Your stomach dropped.

“Why do you have to cling to me all the time? Do you know how annoying it is to always have you hanging off me?” He scoffed. “I don’t like people touching me. Don’t you know that? Or are you too stuck in your own world to care?”

The pit in your stomach solidified into something akin to dread, and you could feel your heart start to race. This was a dream. Your brain was just creating lies. Yoongi had been your closest friend for a long time. He would have told you if anything you did made him uncomfortable. Right?

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but it only brought the ringing in your ears back.

“You need to stop.” Yoongi’s voice, firm this time, sounded further off, like he was speaking to you from underwater. “It’s not nice.”

You were confused, but the Yoongi in front of you spoke again. “God, sometimes I just… I need you to leave me alone. I need my space. Just because I’m staying with you doesn’t mean we have to hang out every second of every day. You can be so annoying sometimes.”

When you opened your mouth to respond, you couldn’t speak.

Underwater Yoongi spoke again. “Gengar. I know you understand me. Stop.”

It was like a fog lifted from your mind. The Gengar. Was it causing this? In front of you, Yoongi turned, his mouth contorted into a wide, toothy grin, his eyes glowing a bright red. And then he was gone.

A few seconds later, you woke up, feeling very much like a deep sea diver surfacing after a particularly long dive. For a moment, you were disoriented, the Behind the Music documentary still quietly playing on the tv confused you. It felt like you had been asleep for hours. But in reality, it had apparently only been forty-five minutes. The pressure around your body felt wrong, and immediately, you sat up, pulling away quickly. Your sudden movement scared Yoongi, and he jumped, his hands flying up to shoulder-height in an expression of submission and innocence.

You rubbed your forehead. The pressure around you had been his arms. He had been holding you. You sighed. Your head hurt.

Yoongi looked at you, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

When he reached out to grab your hand, you pulled away, your brain screaming at you.

Do you know how annoying it is to always have you hanging off me?

Confusion flashed in Yoongi’s dark eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. He whispered your name, his hands falling helplessly into his lap. “You had a nightmare?” You nodded, and his eyes fell closed. “I was afraid of that.”

“What do you mean?” It was strange to hear your own voice. It was hoarse, like you had spent the past hour yelling.

He scratched behind his ear with his index finger, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Gengar is… well, I had to scold it.” You said nothing, still too out of it from your dream to question him. “I think it’s the reason you’ve been sleeping so badly.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I think it might be jealous. You did say it liked me more than you.”

You nodded. You knew that you should be angry, or at the very least, upset with the fact that Yoongi’s Gengar was eating your dreams and giving you nightmares. And maybe eventually, you would be. But in that moment, you were kind of relieved. It was Gengar that had made the Yoongi of your nightmares say those things. It wasn’t your fault that you were so sleep deprived.

“I told it that it had to stop or this wasn’t going to work,” Yoongi said softly. “I want Gengar to be happy with me as its trainer, but I won’t let it attack you. That’s not happening.”

“I appreciate that.” You let him take your hand then. “I would like to not have a dream like that again.”

Yoongi nodded, and you could tell he wanted to ask more. But he didn’t, choosing instead to lean back against the couch and turn his attention back to the documentary.

“Gengar’s sulking right now,” he said softly. “But I want it to apologize to you.”

You hummed. You appreciated his desire to make it better, at least.

You thought he had dropped the subject of your nightmare. But then you went to bed for the night. You were still shaken by the dream, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had affected you until you laid down.

Normally, you would have automatically curled yourself around Yoongi, your legs curving to fit behind his, an arm draped lazily around his waist. But you hesitated. Deciding not to risk anything, you faced away from him, burying yourself in your blankets.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but eventually, you heard him sigh, and he rolled over. He tossed and turned for a while, grunting in dissatisfaction every time he moved. It took a long time for him to lie still and stay silent, and you thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep.

“Are you okay?”

Perhaps he hadn’t.

“What do you mean?”

You rolled to your other side, readjusting so you were looking at him. In the darkness of your bedroom, you could tell he was upset. His brow was furrowed, the corners of his mouth downturned in a half-frown. It was quiet except for the sounds of Nickit and Gengar playing somewhere in the apartment.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi repeated, his voice husky with sleep. He was clearly tired, and you felt bad that he was still awake.

“I’m fine,” you told him, not meeting his eyes. “Why?”

“Then why…?” He sighed and then yawned, struggling to open his eyes back up again. “I don’t mind the cuddling. You should know that by now.”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t sure.”

“What was your dream about?” His sharp eyes were on you, then, still tired, but attentive and worried. “What’s got you so in your head?”

You chewed your lip, unsure if you wanted to tell him. But Yoongi was your best friend, and what was the point of that if you couldn’t tell him everything?

“You called me clingy,” you said softly, picking at your thumbnail. “And said that I was annoying.”

He swore under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. He grabbed for your hand, bringing it up to rest against his chest, his fingers loosely intertwining with yours. For a while, he was quiet, his thumb thoughtfully ghosting against your skin in small circles. When he spoke next, he wasn’t looking at you.

“I have never once thought you were clingy or annoying,” Yoongi said quietly. “Trust me, I live with Jin. I swear to god, if you Google ‘annoying,’ his picture would be the first result.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. Yoongi loved Jin like a brother, no matter what he said. But he was right--Jin’s demeanor certainly wasn’t for everyone.

Yoongi smiled, squeezing your hand gently. “I don’t think you're clingy. And I don’t think you’re annoying. I like hanging out with you. I…” He paused, and for a moment, he looked like he was scolding himself. “I like how affectionate you are. It makes me feel appreciated.”

When you finally fell asleep that night, it was with an arm hooked over Yoongi’s waist, your face pressed between his shoulder blades.

‘Do you want to grab dinner tonight?’

You’d been staring at the message in your notifications for ten minutes. You felt bad ignoring him. You’d never outright ignored Yoongi before. But you had spent the past week avoiding his calls and not reading his texts.

You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back to his apartment, the electricity finally fixed. Not necessarily because you didn’t want to see him--you missed him desperately--but you needed space. You still weren’t comfortable being around Gengar, even if you mostly understood why it had attacked you.

It had lashed out because it was jealous. Yoongi was its trainer, you knew it had gotten attached to him quickly. In a way, you had come in between them. Your closeness with Yoongi kept him from hanging out entirely with Gengar. Thus, the frustration and the attack.

But understanding why didn’t really make you any more comfortable.

You locked your phone, the screen turning off immediately. Sighing, you leaned back against the back of your couch and ran a hand through your hair. You couldn’t keep ignoring him. You didn’t want to ruin your relationship with Yoongi.

You should have dinner with him.

You unlocked your phone and tapped into your message app. You typed out a quick reply, agreeing to get dinner and hang out. And you sat. And waited.

The minutes dragged as you waited for him to respond. Normally, he was good about texting you back. Even if he was busy, he was attentive to his notifications, especially when they were from you. You started to get nervous. What if he was upset with you?

You started to type out an apology for the late response when you heard a hiss from the corner of the room. When the shadows behind your television started to darken and shift, you yelped in surprise. But then the shadow started to solidify, and two purple horns started to emerge from the wall. When the red eyes and the big, toothy grin appeared in the shadows, you groaned.

“How did you get here?” you asked the shadow.

It cackled and emerged fully, tumbling out of the wall and landing on the floor with a soft ‘thud.’ Gengar laughed, a gleeful look on its face. When it saw you weren’t smiling, its grin faded. Slowly, it waddled over to you, its little feet silent against the floor. It touched your knee, patting it gently, a look of remorse on its face.

You sighed. You wanted to stay mad at the pokemon. You wanted to hold a grudge. But you couldn’t. The poor thing had been abandoned at the train station, left to the elements. Attacking you had been the wrong decision, but you couldn’t fault it for panicking when it thought Yoongi was spending more time with you.

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?” you questioned softly, rubbing the tufts of shadow on top of its head. That was when you noticed it was clutching something in one of its hands. “What do you have there?”

Gengar made a proud noise, perking up slightly as it handed you the object. A cell phone. You were about to ask whose it was when the lock screen lit up from the movement, answering your question.

Your own face grinned up at you from the screen, your chin tucked over Yoongi’s shoulder. He had taken the selfie at the carnival when it was in town. You had thought the lights by the carousel had been pretty--all blues and greens and purples--and had insisted that he pose for a photo with you. He’d made a dumb joke just before snapping the pic, and had managed to catch you both mid-laugh.

Your heart swelled at the memory, but at the same time, it ached. Partly because you felt guilty for ghosting him for a week. But mostly because you missed him.

“You shouldn’t take people’s things,” you chided, gently but firmly. “It’s not nice. Yoongi’s probably wondering where his phone is.”

Then you realized, Yoongi was probably wondering where Gengar was.

So you walked it home. You trekked ten blocks to his apartment, walking slowly so the ghost pokemon could keep up, its little hand clutched in yours the whole way. Gengar chattered away beside you the whole time, cooing when it saw a bird pokemon or pointing up at the clouds when it saw something interesting. It felt almost like you were taking a five foot tall toddler for a walk.

You knocked on the apartment door, standing on the steps and leaning against the banister. You were nervous. Why were you nervous? It was Yoongi. You’d been to his apartment hundreds of times. You and Jin were always on the same team when your friend group got together for game night. You shouldn’t be nervous.

And yet your stomach gave an uneasy flop, and you picked at your nails, unsure.

Beside you, Gengar looked around, waiting patiently at your side, its hand still clutched in yours. It got distracted by a Mothim flapping by, its orange and yellow wings hypnotizing the ghost pokemon for a brief moment.

But then the door opened, and both your and Gengar’s attention snapped to the man on the other side. Jin was tall and broad, and if you believed him, he was so handsome that women stopped him constantly asking to date him.

“Yah, there you are,” Jin groaned, swatting at Gengar to get it to enter the apartment. “You can’t just disappear like that, you know.” He sighed, leaning heavily against the door. “Thank you for returning our little Houdini. We’re still trying to teach manners.”

“I noticed,” you laughed, holding up Yoongi’s phone. “Seems it swiped this on its way out.”

Jin rolled his eyes and stepped back, motioning for you to come in. You kicked off your shoes, nodding when he told you Yoongi was in the living room. Gengar stood in the entry waiting for you, and you ushered it into the living room.

Yoongi sat on the plush chair, head in his hands, his hair a mess from running his hands through it. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was upset. His back was tense, and he had made himself as small as possible.

“Hey,” you said softly, attempting not to scare him. “Brought your runaway back.”

His head snapped to you, dark eyes darting from your face to Gengar in front of you. Gengar, for its part, looked apologetic, its mouth turned down in a frown. Yoongi stood, moving to meet you. His hands fell on Gengar’s head, examining its round face for signs of distress. When he saw none, he looked at you, eyes meeting yours briefly before he looked away.

You handed him his phone. “It brought me this, too.”

Yoongi nodded. “Thanks.” His voice was soft, unsure, like he didn’t know how to talk to you.

It hurt, hearing him like that. In the years you had been friends, Yoongi had never been anything but straightforward with you, had never been anything but confident. Even when he was feeling shy or nervous or broken, his unease was never directed toward you.

You waited for him to say something else. He looked like he wanted to, but he stood there, his hand stroking Gengar’s head gently, unspeaking. It was awkward, and you hated it. When nothing came, you sighed.

“Okay, well, I uh…” you stuttered, rubbing your hands together nervously. “I guess I’ll go.”

You took a few awkward steps toward the door, but stopped when Yoongi spoke again.

“So that’s it?”

“What?” you turned, immediately taking a step back. He was standing in front of you, his body barely inches from yours.

“That’s it? You’re just going to leave?” He seemed frustrated. “We haven’t talked for a week. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quietly, looking at your feet. “No, I-”

“Is it Gengar?”

“No.” It was the truth. You weren’t mad at Gengar. Not anymore.

“Then what?”

“I needed time. I didn’t want to be around Gengar at first. But…” You sighed, leaning against the wall beside you. “It got hard to reach out. I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“I wanted to hear from you,” Yoongi said softly. “I always want to hear from you. You’re...” He trailed off, a strange look in his eyes.

He stayed silent, you could see him struggling with what to say next.

Best friends tell each other everything, you thought to yourself. Even when it’s hard.

So you told him the truth.

“I missed you,” you admitted, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You could feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he intertwined your fingers. You were nervous. Why were you nervous? “Did you still want to get dinner?”

Yoongi smiled and nodded. “Of course.” There was something about the softness in his voice that warmed your heart.

You knew you should turn, lead him to the door to go get takeout or to the couch to scroll through a delivery app. But for some reason, you couldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot, stuck there staring at Yoongi’s wide, genuine smile and his deep brown eyes. His head cocked to the side, his eyebrow raised in confusion. For the briefest of moments, you thought you saw his eyes dart down and then back up to meet your eyes.

It wasn’t clear who leaned in first, or when. Only that it happened and that Yoongi’s lips brushed yours gently. Your body felt like he had lit you on fire, every nerve ending simultaneously telling your brain something different. You were suddenly hyper-aware of your hand clutched in Yoongi’s, and the way his hand rested on your hip. When did that get there?

“Was that… was that okay?” his voice was soft, his cheeks flushed the brightest shade of pink. He was still standing so close, his breath fanning against your skin.

You nodded, your brain unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the obvious. You had kissed Yoongi. Or Yoongi had kissed you. You still weren’t clear on the specifics. But his lips had been soft and warm and moulded perfectly to your own. You had to admit that while you had never particularly thought about kissing Yoongi before, now that it had happened…

You very much wanted to do it again.

Thankfully, Yoongi seemed to have a similar thought, because he leaned in again. Your hand slid up his chest, gently knotting in the hair at the base of his neck. Somehow, in that one action, he managed to answer all the questions swirling in your brain and some you didn’t even know you had.

Why did he treat you differently than his other friends?

Why didn’t he seem to care that neither of you had personal boundaries around each other?

What were you?

A raspy giggle behind you jolted you apart. Gengar’s head poked through the wall, it’s red eyes closed as it laughed gleefully.

Yoongi let out a dry chuckle, his hand connecting with the Gengar’s forehead. “Get out of here, you creep,” he scolded playfully. “I’m still mad at you for running away.”

Gengar let out a happy cackle but disappeared into the wall. A second later, Jin screamed in the kitchen, apparently the victim of the ghost pokemon’s mischief. You laughed loudly, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking as he attempted to mask his laughter by burying his face in your shoulder.

“Yah! Don’t laugh at me,” Jin yelled back, appearing in the kitchen doorway. His shirt was completely soaked. He must have been doing dishes when Gengar scared him.

“We’re going out,” Yoongi managed between laughs, squeezing your hand gently. “Watch the little criminal while I’m gone?”

Jin grumbled and waved you away, returning to the kitchen. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight, kid,” you heard him mumble. Gengar cackled in response.

Yoongi kissed you once more, quickly, catching you off-guard. But then he tugged you down the hallway, his hands only separating from you so he could put his shoes on.

“Where to?” he asked softly, eyes meeting yours as you both stood back up.

You walked out of his apartment hand-in-hand. Eventually, you would have to talk about it, but for now, you were content with the new, unexpected development in your relationship.

#[💜—bts fic recs: min yoongi]#READ THIS LAST NIGHT AND AHHH THIS IS SO CUTE #🥺🥺🥺#literal heart eyes

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