hey, i’m liking your photos at 2am because i want to make out. i’m texting you at noon because i want to make out. i woke up today because i (we don’t need words)
Yoongi is simple.
He knows what he wants and what he doesn’t.
He knows he wants his coffee black with a little cream and please, no sugar. He knows calculus was an intricate torture system in his pool of high school electives and that Friday nights meant staying home and watching Netflix under the covers.
Yoongi is black and white with no grey in between.
He isn’t confused about whether he is annoyed by Park Jimin’s existence (for the record, he is). He is fully aware that the last Kanye West album was definitely his worst.
And above all, he is completely conscious of the fact that he is in love with you.
But unlike Jimin’s proposal of “hyung, wait it out and see if she likes you” bullshit, Yoongi isn’t the type to play it cool.
“You know Yoongi, if you were up at 2AM, you should’ve just finished the calculus homework yourself,” you sigh. The library is buzzing with the soft hum of whispers behind pages people aren’t reading. Yoongi likes it like this; he likes it when you’re around.
“I’m not sure how you knew I was up at 2AM but I’ll just pretend like that’s not creepy,” Yoongi shrugs, copying down integrals from your book, pen flying over the empty lines. You scoff, lightly shoving his shoulder.
“I don’t understand how you can call me creepy when you’re the one who liked every single picture of mine from 4 years ago to now in the middle of the night. I had to switch my phone off so it would stop dinging every 2 seconds,” you say, crossing your arms and smirking.
“So?” Yoongi shrugs. He doesn’t really understand the look of disbelief that crosses your face then so he ignores it.
“Are you going to explain this integral to me or not?” Yoongi says, shuffling closer to you so that he’s practically on your lap and your face goes a bright shade of pink.
“I’ve told you how to do this problem six times, Yoongi. Just ask Namjoon to help you out,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair. Yoongi tilts his head, staring at you so intensely that you turn a little redder.
“You know the only reason I ask you to explain calculus to me is so that I spend free period being around you, right?” Yoongi asks, because as far as intentions go, he thought his were fairly obvious. He doesn’t really know why you haven’t got the memo.
“Min Yoongi, are you flirting with me?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him and picking up the pen to write down the problem for the seventh time.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” he replies, his expression deadpan.
“You know, we saw each other an hour ago,” you say, rolling your eyes and picking up the controller on his couch, sitting down with a plop.
“I am aware,” Yoongi shrugs, setting up COD to beginner mode for you.
“And we don’t actually have any calculus homework this weekend.”
“So I’ve been informed,” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, still crouched in front of the TV.
“Not to mention that you know I suck at video games,” you point out.
“If you’ll start stating the less obvious maybe I’ll start telling you something you don’t know, Yoongi says, walking over to the couch.
“You’re mean,” you pout, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, leaning down to pick you up in one swoop so that you squeal a little before he plonks you back down on his lap, his arms wrapped on either side of you, fingers molding into yours over the controller.
“Yoongi,” you hiss and Yoongi can feel how warm you’ve gotten through his shirt; you’re probably blushing. It’s just about Yoongi’s favorite thing about you; how easy it was to get you flustered.
“Hmm?” Yoongi hums in your ear and he feels you shiver and then sigh, focussing back on the game.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” you reply and Yoongi grins. He wasn’t about to let go easily.
“Yoongi, it’s like 5AM,” you croak into the phone. Yoongi ignores this.
“You didn’t come to school today,” Yoongi states. Over the speaker, he can hear you groan.
“I was sick, Yoongi. I couldn’t make it.” There is a soft cough and Yoongi’s heart clenches.
“Okay,” Yoongi says and then pauses before adding, “I miss you.”
There is a silence and Yoongi can practically see you blushing through the screen.
“You’re very straightforward.”
“You missed me too.”
“I didn’t deny it.”
Yoongi grins. “Open your damn window already.”
There is another silence and then a muffled shuffling of feet before Yoongi sees your window open.
“It’s freezing out here, you know?” Yoongi calls up to your gaping face.
“Min Yoongi, this has to be the cheesiest thing I have ever-”
“Jimin told me this was the best way to ask you out.”
“And you listened to Jimin?”
Yoongi frowns. “I was desperate.”
“To do what?”
“To ask you if you’d like to go out with me.”
Your hands fly to your mouth and Yoongi thinks maybe that’s a good sign. Or something.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yoongi,” you say weakly, hiding your face.
“Is that a no?”
“So it’s a yes.”
“If I come up there and kiss you, would you change your mind?”
“Yoongi, I’m sick!”
“And I love you. We’re both stating the obvious.”
“If I say yes, will you promise to go home?”
“And take me out on Saturday?”
Yoongi’s heart is racing but that doesn’t stop him from smirking.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” he replies.
(“How about that kiss?”
“Yoongi, I swear you’re the most persistent-”
“Stop blushing, it’s way too cute and then I really will kiss you.”