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And So Here We Go

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“You don’t have a choice. Either you fill out the application on your own, or I do it for you.”


To be fair, Yoongi knew that his friend had good intentions, but still, the ultimatum earned a deep growl. He pulled the computer closer to him, making it just out of reach of the younger.


“You touch this computer, and I cut your dick off, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi said, trying his hardest to be threatening, but Hoseok saw right through him.


The two had met at their freshman orientation when Yoongi kept making smart remarks about the presentation under his breath, and Hoseok, who was sitting next to him, kept laughing. Hoseok knew him. He knew that Yoongi couldn’t hurt a fly. He had no reason to be intimidated.


Once, in college, he stepped on a butterfly, crushing it and consequently killing, and he cried for nearly twenty minutes. Granted, he was as drunk as could be, but, it still happened, and Hoseok would never let him forget it.


“Okay, fine,” the younger responded, leaning back against the couch cushions, arms folded against his chest as he shifted his gaze from the screen to his friend. “Then you have to do it yourself. But I’m tired of hearing you whine and cry about being ‘forever alone’.”


This time, Yoongi looked more offended, rather than angry. “First of all, I do not whine ,” he began. “Second, I do not cry . Third, this is not 2007. And finally, fuck you.”


“I have plenty of people to do that for me , thank you,” Hoseok quipped. “And,” He continued on, leaning a little closer to the elder. “If you fill out this form, you will, too. So let’s just get on with it. We both know that it would be good for you to have some nice boy in your life, so let’s just give it a shot.” He pushed his bangs out of his face before sitting up a bit in his seat and giving him a look of encouragement. “And this Park Jimin guy has nothing but good reviews! You really have nothing to lose here, Yoongs.”


The older of the two mollified a bit, his expression softening, but instead of beginning the application and questionnaire, he closed the computer and pushed it farther back on the coffee table in front of them. He sunk into his seat a bit more now that the stupid thing was put away. Yoongi knew that it wasn’t over yet. He knew that he would have to face those godforsaken  questions again. But, out of sight out of mind, right?


That's what he was going with. At least for now.


“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” He sighed, sounding tired. It was a pathetic attempt to put an end to the conversation, but at this point he was desperate for a way out.


Hoseok shrugged. “You did, but I enjoy it,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that you are trying to run away from this, and I don’t understand why. There is literally no risk, whatsoever.”


“I’m not ‘running away’,” Yoongi scoffed and opened his mouth to add a smart remark, but he was interrupted.


“You are!” A voice called from the front hallway of the apartment.


Both boys perked up a bit in their seats, but Hoseok was the first to respond.


“Jin!” he cried out.


Kim Seokjin, Yoongi’s other roommate, was a third year medical student at Hanyang University, studying emergency pediatrics, and was still dressed in scrubs as he made his way into the living room to join his friends. The dark circles under his eyes were as prominent as ever. Sure, his clinical had him exhausted, but he at least had some time to talk before he showered and took a much needed (and well deserved) nap.


“What are we talking about,” the newcomer asked, twisting the clear cap of a new water bottle, fresh, cold, and straight from the refrigerator, and taking his place on the armrest of the recliner off to the side of the room.


Yoongi opened his mouth to respond, but Hoseok beat him to it. “Yoongi’s emotional constipation.”


“I am not emotionally constipated,” he protested, tone slightly higher than normal as he crossed his arms..


“You are,” the other two chorused flatly, sharing a look.


Jin sighed and shook his head before continuing on. “Are you guys still bickering about the matchmaking site?” He turned to face the brunett. “Listen, Hoseokie, if he doesn’t want to do it, you can’t force him.” The eldest of the three shifted in his seat a bit. “And Yoongi, why can’t you just calm down a little bit and just let us help you? We are your friends, and we want what’s best for you.” Yoongi began to grumble about something, but Jin quickly stopped him before he could form a complete sentence. “And I know that you are going to be all “muuuuh being single is what’s best for me muuuuh,’ but we all know that that isn’t true.”


Yoongi was not fond of being mocked. Even if Seokjin hadn’t meant it in an offensive manner, he couldn’t help but be annoyed. “How do you know what’s best for me?” He quipped, rolling his eyes as he spoke.


“Because I’m squad mother, and squad mother knows all. Now,” He clapped his hands together. “I’m going to take a really hot shower, because some six year old threw up on me, and then I’m going to take a nap.” Seokjin slowly got to his feet, groaning a bit as he stretched his sore legs. He couldn’t help but think that he was far too young to be hurting like his 87 year old grandmother with arthritis and a bad back. “And, if for some reason, either of you wake me up, and the apartment isn’t on fire or you aren’t bleeding out, I will cut both your dicks off. Got it?”


Hoseok called out to him as Jin made his way back down the hall and to the bathroom. “Yoongi already made that threat today!”


Seokjin didn’t even turn his head to look at his friends as he yelled back, “But we all know that I’ll be the one to actually do it. Good night, boys!”


“We don’t make a sound,” Yoongi said.


Hoseok could do nothing but agree.



When the sun had set, the moon had risen, and the clock read 11:15, Yoongi sat up on bed, still wide awake. The lamp on his side table illuminating the keyboard of his laptop as he stared at the questions on the application form once again.


As much he hated to admit it, he was, in fact, lonely


He would also say that being single sucked. Like really sucked, especially when all of your friends we going out and getting laid and starting relationships. Yoongi wanted both of those things. He wanted them badly.


And sure he could go out and find someone to spend the night with—have some drinks, laugh a bit, then go back to his apartment for a quick fuck—but he would much rather have someone that he didn’t have to kick out of his bed in the morning.


So with some reluctance, Yoongi begrudgingly wrote out an answer to the first question. And then the second. And then the third.



Park Jimin had a 98% success rate, making him one of the top match-makers in Korea. Granted, his client base was small, but they were loyal to him, and once he made a match, the happy couple would pass on the name of his business.


He had been doing this for years, setting up the people who were starting to give up on romance. Starting in high school with his friends, he just compared personality traits in attempt to see if the two people were compatible. Jimin didn’t start doing this full time until after he got through his second year of college, after being abruptly fired from his gig as a waiter.


It was then that he realized that, yes, even though it was not a career with many payoffs, he genuinely enjoyed making other people happy.


The only problem was that, despite his success with being a matchmaker, none of his own relationships seemed to last. His longest one began to fall apart after the first two months, and the two finally decided to call it quits after three.


Instead of feeling sorry for himself, though, Jimin threw himself into his work, accepting the fact that he would likely never find anyone, and to stop looking.


If it happened, it happened; that was his motto.


And that’s how he got to Min Yoongi, the newest applicant for his services. From what Jimin could see, Yoongi was an interesting guy; majoring in sociology, working as a piano tutor and at a convenience store to put himself through school, and describing his perfect date as “ordering take-out, watching movies, and going for a walk at two in the morning”.


Of course, all the questions had to be reviewed, but Jimin genuinely believed that he could help this guy.


“Whatchya doing?” a curious voice piped up as he flipped through the printed pages once more, trying to find the section labled favorites .


Jimin attempted to push the other away, but his friend wouldn’t let up.


“Taehyung,” he groaned, closing the packet entirely and putting his pen down onto the table. “I thought you had class.”


Taehyung shrugged, popping a perfectly ripe grape into his mouth (reminding Jimin that he, himself, hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day). He took a seat beside him, cupping his face with one hand and resting his elbow against his knee. “I do have class,” he said with a smug smile. “I just got bored. It’s fine though, we weren’t really doing anything, really. The professor probably doesn’t even know I’m gone.”


Jimin sighed. “Except for the fact that he probably saw you get up and leave? God, Tae, why would you pay for a class and not take it?”


The younger of the two boys didn’t seem to have an answer judging by the way he breezed past the question. “You never answered me. What are you doing?” he repeated, shoving two more grapes into his mouth and smiling contently.


“And you never answered me,” Jimin muttered before deciding to just give up the fight. “I’m working. I got a new applicant last night and I’m just sorting through the answers.” He paused for a fraction of a moment, giving Taehyung a pointed look. “So if you could just like...give me some space for like -” He looked up, seemingly to calculate how long it might take. An hour, that would be lovely.”


Taehyung gave an exasperated look before finally agreeing. “Fine. One hour. You get one hour,” he said, getting up and pushing his chair in, plucking yet another grape from his sandwich bag and taking it into his mouth. “But when you’re done, we are having ice cream and playing Zombies on C.O.D.”


Despite the fact that Jimin didn’t really enjoy playing Call of Duty, nor could he understand his friend’s fascination with the first person shooter or his recent obsession with shooting up zombies, he complied to the wishes of the younger.


“You got it,” he agreed, picking his pen back up, ready to dive back into his work. “One hour and then I’m all yours. I just have to make a call some time this afternoon, ‘kay?”


“Okay!” Taehyung exclaimed as he bounded out of the kitchen with a spring in his step. The last thing he heard from him was the slam of his bedroom door and a “Prepare to die, zombies!”


Yoong was walking home from work when his phone rang. He absolutely despised doing the morning shift, but at least it meant he could have his afternoon open to do whatever he please.


Most of the time, he used the opportunity to compose, write lyrics, or to set up a lesson plan for the kids he tutors. It was the perfect time, really. Mid-day on a Tuesday usually meant Seokjin was off doing clinical, and Hoseok, the useless pain in the ass he is (Yoongi means this in the nicest way possible), is at school until five.


He waits to see if the cellphone in his back pocket will stop vibrating before he fishes it out of his pocket, but it doesn’t, so he takes off a glove and grabs it. Yoongi glances at it for a brief second, taking note of the fact that it’s an unknown caller before bringing it to his ear.


He clears his throat a bit before answering. “Hello?”


There isn’t a second pause before the voice on the other end responded. “Hello! I’m calling for Min Yoongi?”


“Speaking,” he answered, stepping off to the side of the busy walkway, letting others pass him. People in suits rush to get back to their offices after lunch breaks. Mothers with their small children carry shopping bags. The occasional teenager walks by and he’s left fighting the urge to remind them that they should be at school.


“Oh, well hello, then,” the voice chirped, giving a little laugh with the greeting. Yoongi has to admit that it’s a bit cute. “This is Park Jimin and I’m calling in regards to the application that you sent in.”








“Ah...Yes, um...what can I...What can I do for you?” he asked, cringing over just how awkward he sounded. For some reason, he couldn’t help but hope that he isn’t making an ass of himself, despite his usual relaxed, I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.


If Jimin does think he’s being weird, he doesn’t say anything about it. “I was just calling to inform you that I have, in fact, received your application, and I have looked it over,” he explained. It sounds like there’s some rustling of papers coming from Jimin’s end of the line. “And I wanted to let you know that I will be accepting you as a client,” He paused, the sound of papers still prevalent in the background. “That is, if you are still looking for my services.”


Yoongi, for some reason, starts to feel his cheeks color with the faintest of blushes. The ridiculous thought of everyone around me must know I’m talking to a matchmaker crosses his mind, and he isn’t exactly sure why it bothers him. He could have just joined one of those online dating websites, or he could have just made a Tinder if he didn’t want anything to come of it.


Now that he thinks of it, though, he doesn’t really like those ideas either. They all make him feel like a failure for some reason. Like he totally could not do this own and now he has to enlist the help of an absolute stranger , who doesn’t know a damn thing about him. It’s not even like he can’t get a date on his own. He can! He totally can! In fact, he’s done more than that; Yoongi has had long-term relationships before, but in the past couple of years, he has just been so busy. Between work and school and his music, he just doesn’t have the time to go out and meet new people anymore.


It’s frustrating...


He toys with the hem of his jacket as he answers Jimin. “ guess,” he replied stupidly, regretting his choice of words as soon as they tumble out of his mouth. “Yes. I mean yes,” He corrected. “I am.”


Again, there’s a little laugh that comes from Jimin and it makes Yoongi want to throw himself into The Void.


But, if it matters to anyone, it makes him want to throw himself into The Void in a good way .


“Alright,” Jimin said, and Yoongi can just hear the smile . “Great! I’m happy to be working with you. I would like to meet with you sometime this week, if that’s okay? I know you gave me a whole bunch of information in the application, but I would like to sit down and talk with you in person.” Yoongi hears someone yelling Jimin’s name in the background. “Y’know, just to get a better sense of who you are.”


Yoongi nods, only to remember that the boy on the phone can’t see him. “Of course,” he responded. “When would be a good time for you?”


“I’m busy tomorrow, but how does Thursday at noon sound?” Jimin inquired, and Yoongi hears some kind of yelling again. This time, he thinks the voice says ‘ Come on! It’s been an hour already! ’ Jimin doesn’t acknowledge it, though, so he decides not to, either.. “We can sit down and grab some coffee somewhere and just talk a bit?”


“That works for me,” Yoongi answered, getting ready to hang up.


“Great!” Jimin said, sounding more enthusiastic than he had during the rest of the call. “I’ll text you the details, and I’ll see you on Thursday. I look forward to working with you, Yoongi.”


“I’ll see you then.”


Jimin does his research.


It’s his job.


To make a successful match, he has to know as much as possible about someone. So he pours over Yoongi’s survey answers, and he may even look him up online. He definitely won’t admit to doing so, though.


He gets up from his table at his usual coffee shop, closing his notebook and leaving the rest of his belongings at his table as he made his way to go order himself his second coffee of the morning.


He dragged a hand through his caramel colored hair—a habit of his he had picked up somewhere, somehow—as he weaved his way through the slight crowd of people gathering. A few dressed in business attire complete with shiny black shoes and briefcases. A group of three boys stood off to the side. They were around his age, maybe a little older, but each had unnaturally colored hair, and one of them had on a dark blue beanie while another adorned a leather jacket.


Jimin took his place in line at the counter behind a mother and her young daughter, who was dragging a stuffed bunny around by the ear and sucking her thumb. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t do that; that she should be mindful of all the germs, but he decided to leave it up to her mother.


When it is his turn to order, he asks the black haired boy for his coffee. “A caramel macchiato, please,” he says, smiling at the poor boy— Jungkook if his name tag was correct— who looked like he just wanted to go home.


Jimin could empathize.


He had until 11:30 to work, and then he had to make his way across town to campus to be there for his 12:00 class.


If Jimin was being honest, he didn’t want to be in school. The only reason why he enrolled in classes every semester to work towards his Bachelor’s degree was to appease his parents’ persistent nagging and worrying.


It wasn’t all bad, though. The business classes would help in the long run, and he got to take a few dance classes here and there.


When his coffee was handed to him, Jimin made sure to thank the barista once again before tossing a few extra dollars into the tip jar.


He returned to his seat, reopened his files and jumped right back into his work.


“Oh, Min Yoongi,” he murmured to himself, taking a sip of his drink and setting it down next to his laptop, smiling. “I can’t wait to meet you tomorrow.”


When Yoongi woke up on Thursday morning, he wanted to die.


His first thought was not of how much he wanted coffee, which was strange, but of meeting Jimin.


There was an uneasy feeling lodged in the pit of his stomach, and overall, he felt tense.


He was nervous.


The sound of car horns and busy sidewalks created a melody that drifted up from the street below and through his window. Sunlight filtered into the room and spilled out across the wooden floor. Yoongi hissed through clenched teeth as his feet hit the cold floor, ready to drag himself out of bed and into the shower.


He figured it would help him relax a bit.


He hoped it would help him relax a bit.


The uneasy feeling didn’t go away, though, even with the hot water pouring down on him and the pleasant, minty scent of his tea tree shampoo permeating throughout the bathroom. If anything, his anxiety continued to build.


Something about meeting this Park Jimin guy was getting him so bent out of shape, and he needed it to stop.


Taking a deep breath before hand, Yoongi stuck his face under the stream of water. It was his attempt to pull himself out of his thought, no matter how poor it was.


Eventually, it was time to step out, so he turned the water off and proceed to brush his teeth and towel dry his hair. A pair of black jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt with thin, navy blue stripes waited for him on the vanity counter top.


When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by Hoseok, who munched happily on his brightly colored cereal. Was it...Froot Loops?


“Mornin’,” he chirped, smiling and giving a little wave of his empty spoon. Little droplets of milk splattered onto the table surrounding him.


Yoongi cringed.


It was too early for this.


On the opposite end of the table sat Seokjin. Some medical textbook was propped open to a page with a detailed images of bacteria and viruses, with some graphs on the page next to it. He had a cup of tea sitting in front of him, and was actively jotting things down in his notebook. His work must have been important, as he didn’t even stop to take a look at his roommate. Instead, he offered a reserved, “Good morning,” without taking a break from writing.


Yoongi thinks that he must have forgotten that his tea is even there. The mug is still completely full, and there is no longer steam coming from it, meaning he has most likely let it get cold. He does have some toast with some berries on a plate, however, and it does look like he has been picking at it, so he isn’t too concerned.


He moved to the counter to pour his own cup of coffee, deciding to forego making something to eat. He wasn’t all that hungry, and he had to meet up with Jimin in just a couple hours, anyway.


He adjusted his glasses as he sat down, pushing them up by the bottom right corner of the frame before resting his face in his hand.


“You should eat something,” the oldest of the group said, still pouring over his textbook and not  paying the other two any attention.


“And you should learn not to let your tea get cold,” Yoongi simpered, taking a sip of his own drink.


Hoseok decided that it would be best to stop the Salt Fest that was about to go down and stepped in. “So, Yoongi,” he said, as he picked up his now empty bowl and rinsed it out before putting it in the dishwasher. “You look pretty nice today. You going out?”


The boy in question nodded lazily. “Yeah, I’m meeting up with that matchmaker. Park...Jimin..?”


Yoongi knew his name, and he wasn’t exact sure why he was pretending that he didn’t. It wouldn’t make him feel any better, so what was the point?


The news got Seokjin to put his pen down, and a look of surprise crossed Hoseok’s face. Both boys turned to look at the boy with bleached hair.


“What?” he asked, sounding defensive. “It’s not that big of a deal.”


Hoseok make some exasperated sounds. “You put up that much of a fight about not filling out that stupid application,” he began, pointing a finger at Yoongi, who was sitting directly across from him. “And now you have the audacity to tell me that it’s ‘not a big deal’?”


“Hoseokie, be nice.” Seokjin called, grabbing the younger’s attention. “But Yoongi, he’s right. You didn’t even tell us that you filled out the application.”


“Because I didn’t think it was a big deal!” he said a bit louder than he intended. As soon as he heard himself, he took a breath. “I just...I don’t know. It was after you guys had gone to bed, and I couldn’t sleep. It doesn’t matter, really, because it’s done now.”


No one spoke for a couple moments, letting everything just calm down before they continued.


Hoseok was the first to speak. “Well, I, for one, am proud of you. Good job, Yoongi.”


He scoffed a bit, but couldn’t help but smile. “Gee, thanks,” Yoongi replied in a low tone, taking another sip of his coffee. “I am glad to know I have pleased you, Oh Great One”


Seokjin also smiled. “What time are you meeting him?” he asked, plucking a raspberry off his plate and popping it into his mouth. “I’m meeting up with Namjoon this afternoon. I could give you a ride if you’d like.”


Namjoon was a mutual friend of the group. Yoongi had met him in his first year of college. They sat next to each other in their Sociology 102: Social Problems class. They hadn’t started speaking until a few weeks in, when Namjoon found Yoongi working in the library, pouring over his books. Namjoon had asked if he could join him in his study session, and Yoongi moved his stuff so he could sit down.


Yoongi introduced Namjoon to Hoseok at lunch one day. It wasn’t often that Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s schedules allowed them to meet up like this. So when Yoongi and Namjoon were walking from the from class to the dining hall, and he received a text from his friend, he asked Namjoon if he was okay if Hoseok joined them.


The two really hit it off. It was easy for them. As soon as Yoongi had informed Hoseok that Namjoon is interested in music, the conversation never stopped. Now the three were the best of friends. It wasn’t until their second year that they met Seokjin.


After their first year, Yoongi and Hoseok requested to be roommates. Namjoon still lived at home with his parents, but it was nice, considering the fact that he didn’t have to pay for board and he didn’t really have to worry about being homesick, unlike Hoseok.


Hoseok was homesick often. He was close with his parents, and even closer with his sister, but he left all of that behind when he moved away from Gwangju to come to Seoul for college. Namjoon tried to make him feel better, but he just didn’t understand.


He could go home every night. He could see his parents, talk to his younger sister, and meet up with his friends.


So Yoongi tried to cheer him up. He did have to leave Daegu, after all. But nothing he did seemed to work either.


One day the three of them sat in the main dining hall. Yoongi was pushing rice around in his dish with his chopsticks. Namjoon sat next to him, staring at Hoseok sadly, and then there was Hoseok himself, sitting across from the two of them, looking as despondent as ever.


His head was down, resting atop his folded arms. His shoulders sagged, and even though you couldn’t see his face, he looked tired and just plain sad .


Go figure.


But this had to stop.


Hoseok had always been so bright and cheerful. He was the one to drag Yoongi out of bed on bad days. And, yes, he got it. Yoongi understood. It was hard leaving family behind, and yes everyone had the right to feel upset, but he couldn’t let this go on any longer than it already had.


And Yoongi was just about to say something before a stranger came up to their table.


“Excuse me,” the newcomer said.


Yoongi and Namjoon turned their heads to look at him, but Hoseok didn’t move an inch.


Neither boy said a word.


“I just wanted to know if your um...I wanted to know if your friend is okay,” he murmured in a light tone, as if he didn’t want to disrupt something.


Namjoon and Yoongi looked at each other, each with an eyebrow raised. Who even was this guy?


“He’s fine,” Namjoon answered slowly, his hesitation clear in his voice. “He’s just homesick.”


The boy mouthed an “ohhh” and nodded, seeming to understand now.


Namjoon thought it was nice that he was concerned for someone he didn’t even know, but he also found it a bit odd that he was so okay with just coming up to them.


He especially found it strange when he pulled the chair out next to Hoseok and sat down.


“I’m Seokjin,” he introduced himself, still using the same light tone as before. He placed a hand on Hoseok’s back, not giving it much thought. Despite the fact that he had only met the group minutes ago, he was already so comfortable. His actions were so natural. “I’m a fourth year pre-med student. Sorry if I’m intruding, I just wanted to make sure everything’s alright.”


Yoongi gave an awkward smile. Namjoon could tell it was forced. “I’m Yoongi, this is Namjoon,” he responded casually. He leaned back in his chair. “We’re Sociology majors. Second year.” He pauses a second, looking at Hoseok, who still hasn’t moved.


But actually...Now that he thinks about it, with Seokjin’s hand on his back, the tension that was once at home in his shoulders seems to have dissipated at least a little. “And that, right there, is Hoseok, and he is a second year in Elementary Education and Early Childhood Development. He’s a double major. Pretty smart.”


Seokjin nodded, actually looking impressed. “You know, that’s pretty cool. I bet it’s intense,” he mused.


And the conversation went on. Hoseok didn’t talk much at first, but he did eventually pick his head up, and he did eventually get a few words in.


A few weeks later, the group found themselves getting together regularly, and that’s how Namjoon started falling for Seokjin.


The two eventually ended up together, after about six months of mutual pining.


So when Seokjin offered to drive Yoongi to the meeting, he grimaced a bit. The two were practically married, and seeing them together...they were so sweet it was sickening.


“I’ll walk,” he answered, taking back the last dregs of his coffee. “But thanks for the offer. I’ll probably leave before you anyway.”


Hoseok smiled a bit to himself. “Seems like Yoongi doesn’t want to us to know anything about his date.”


Yoongi rolled his eyes as he got up from the table. “Oh come on,” he said, putting his mug in the dishwasher to be cleaned. “Why would I be going on a date with the matchmaker , Hoseok? What sense does that make. Anyway, I’m going to get ready.”


For some reason, the suggestion got him a bit more flustered than it should have, and it left Yoongi with a ringing in his ears, and a tightness in his chest.


As he pushed his chair in he turned his attention to the oldest of the three. “Jin, enjoy studying,” he said before turning to face Hoseok. “And you...You enjoy whatever the fuck you’re doing today, I don’t even know.”



Park Jimin was running late. He couldn’t find his phone. He couldn’t find his briefcase, and subsequently his keys. He just couldn’t seem to get his act together.


This would have been fine, any other day. That was the great thing about being your own boss. You didn’t have to answer to anyone, and you got to choose your own hours. But when he had to meet Yoongi for lunch in just twenty minutes, he was freaking out a little, to say the least.


“Tae!” He shouted out into the otherwise silent apartment. His roommate had not yet made an appearance, and Jimin knew for a fact that he didn’t have class. He marched towards his best friend’s bedroom. “Taehyung!” Jimin pushed open the door. “Kim Tae—Oh my God, Taehyung!”


The boy in question was noticeably undressed, at least, from the waist down. It didn’t take all that long to process what had just happened, that Jimin had interrupted Taehyung while engaging in some personal time.


“Shit!” Taehyung exclaimed as he moved to cover himself with the nearest blanket. “What the fuck? Did no one ever tell you to knock first? Jesus Christ, I’m busy .”


The older of the two immediately brought his hands up to cover his eyes, and turned on his heel. “I’m sorry!” Jimin squeaked, the blush that colored his cheeks spread throughout the rest of his face. The tips of his ears were turning pink, now. “I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!”


The other boy ground and shut his eyes. This entire encounter was just painful. Physically and utterly painful. “Oh my—What do you even want , Jimminie?”


Jimin shook his head, not moving his hands from his face. He didn’t want his help now. No way. “I was going to ask if you had seen my keys, but just...Forget it,” he said, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than he had before. He moved from the room and shut the door behind him, maybe closing it a bit harder than necessary. He continued on, shouting from the other side of the door. “Forget it! Just go back to what you were doing! I’ll figure it out myself!”


“I can’t finish, now,” Taehyung yelled back, causing Jimin to cringe. It was way more information than he needed. He loved Taehyung, he really did, but God, did he need to learn how to shut up . “You ruined it!”


Jimin was exasperated. How was he even supposed to respond to that? I’m sorry ? Apologizing seemed like the best thing he could do in this situation. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, somehow finding it in himself to laugh. It was an awkward, painful thing though. Nothing like usual. “I promise I’ll knock next time! I promise! I sw—I found it!”


And despite the fact that all of his things were there, sitting perfectly in a kitchen chair that goes mostly unused, Jimin couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not.


On one hand, he was absolutely ecstatic that he finally found his belongings. Everything he needed for work and school was in that bag.


On the other, he wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to go meet his client face to face. Everything he had read about him thus far had made him seem so interesting, and Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t think some of the answers Yoongi gave made him feel a little...funny.


It was ridiculous, really. The two hadn’t even met each other. The only reason Jimin even knew what the guy looked like, was because the application required a picture to be sent in with it.


The boy tried to shake the feeling off as he shoved his feet into his brown, suede shoes and pulled on his coat.


It wasn’t too cold outside, which was something Jimin was immensely thankful for as he made his way down the street. He just hoped that Yoongi wasn’t waiting for him outside like some kind of idiot, though. It was still winter, after all.


Except, it turned out, that Min Yoongi was something of an idiot. Jimin found him standing outside of the cafe that had been the designated meeting spot. His hands shoved as far down into his coat pockets as they could go, maroon scarf wrapped around his neck, and breath coming out of his mouth in gray-ish white puffs, almost as if he were some kind of dragon.


He thought it was ridiculous.


Sweet, but ridiculous nonetheless.


“Yoongi? Min Yoongi?” Jimin approached the other man with caution. The blond looked up at him curiously. “I’m Park Jimin. Y’know...the ma—”


Yoongi wasn’t trying to be rude when he cut him off. He was just trying to protect his dignity. “Yes.” He said simply, biting his lip for just a moment. “Yes. I know who you are.”


Jimin blinked. One beat passed by, then another, before finally, he smiles.


Yoongi is absolutely sure his heart stops, and every single one of his brain cells die because it is just such a sweet image. For once in his life, something is better than he imagined.


Jimin, however, doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Instead, he just carries on.  


“Oh, perfect!” He chirped as he shifts his bag into a more comfortable position. “Well, why don’t we go inside and get a table. I don’t know about you, but standing in the cold isn’t really my thing.”


Yoongi agrees. He would much rather be inside, sitting tucked away with a warm ceramic mug of black coffee cradled in his hands.


He opens the doors for Jimin, who in return smiles at him yet again, and Yoongi thinks he’s going to have to buy some life insurance or something just for meetings like this.


As soon as they enter the cafe, they are hit with the blast from the heaters, and the lenses on Yoongi’s glasses fog up.


“I don’t remember seeing you wearing glasses in the picture you sent,” Jimin said absentmindedly as he guided the two of them to his usual table.


His companion shrugged as he wiped the residue off on his shirt. “I usually wear contacts,” he explained simply, putting the frames back on his face, finally able to see clearly again. “I ran out of contact solution last night though, and I’m still waiting for my new shipment of lenses to come.”


“Well I think you look really nice,” Jimin said as he guided the two of them to his usual table. “Not...that you didn’t look nice without them...” He added, but soon realized his mistake. His face flushed. “I mean...I’ve seen worse looking people. I-I mean...You’re—”


Yoongi cut him off for the second time that afternoon. This time, however, he was laughing. It was an airy thing, like he was going all that he could to stay quiet. The corner of his bottom lip was tucked between his bottom lip, but it didn’t keep him from smiling. “I know what you mean,” he said, attempting to reassure the man across from him. He wasn’t exactly sure it helped much, especially since the blush on his cheeks hadn’t died down even in the slightest. He decided to ignore it, though. “Don’t worry about it.”


In response, Jimin just gave a sheepish smile. He was thankful that Yoongi was going to just let the comment slide. “Right...Um...Why don’t we get to work then,” he suggested slowly, really trying to collect himself. This had never happened with a client before. He was always professional. Always knew what to say. Knew how to act. There was something about Yoongi though that just threw him off .


The blond nodded. “That sounds good to me,” he answered. “If you don’t mind, though, I’m going to grab a coffee...”


As he trailed off, Yoongi gestured to the counter behind him, pointing with his thumb.


“Of course!” Jimin said, already reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet. Maybe he was a bit too loud, a bit too enthusiastic, because the couple sitting a few tables to the left turned their heads. “Of course.” He repeated, this time at a much more appropriate level. “I’ve got it covered though. What do you like?”


The elder blinked at him a couple times, like he had just started spewing out words in Czech. There was no reason for Jimin to be buying him anything, even if it were something as simple as coffee. Maybe it was a business thing, though? Yoongi wasn’t exactly sure how this worked, really. “You...don’t have to,” he replied, shaking his head. “I can get it.”


Jimin, however, had already stood up and pushed in his chair. “It’s fine, really,” he responded, offering the other a small, yet reassuring smile. “Besides, you’re my client. If I had an actual office, I would be making you coffee anyway.”


There is a moment of hesitation on Yoongi’s part before he answers.


“Straight black. No milk, no sugar.”


Jimin can’t help but think how incredibly bitter that must be, and he can’t believe that someone would actually put themselves through the torture of drinking such a thing. He doesn’t comment on it, though. Instead, he just makes his way up to order.


It’s the same guy from the other day that’s working. Jungkook. Jimin smiles fondly at the boy with the doe eyes. Now that he is actually getting a good look at the kid, Jimin actually thinks he remembers him from somewhere. School, maybe? He’s probably a freshman.


Jimin orders the drinks; Yoongi’s plain black coffee, and his own chai, and returns to their table to find Yoongi staring out the window and into the street traffic.


“Your coffee,” Jimin said, passing him the mug before sitting down in the chair across from him.


The blond takes it, giving the other a look of appreciation. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking a sip and grimacing as it burns his tongue. It made Jimin laugh.


“Maybe let it cool down a bit?” He offered, knowing that he was just being a smart ass.


Yoongi just sets the mug back down on the table. “Thanks for the advice,” he replied, a shadow of a smile gracing his features.


The two get down to business. Jimin opens the file and pulls out his notebook, preferring to take physical notes while working face to face with a client. He felt it made the ordeal more intimate.


“So, you’re a piano tutor?” Jimin asked, flipping through the application before glancing up to meet the elder’s eyes.


Yoongi, who Jimin had thought was relaxed before, completely dissolved into a beautiful state of contentedness. The ghost of a smile showed even more of itself. “Yeah,” he said. “I tutor a couple kids. They’re young, like elementary school age, but you can see that they are interested.” He took another sip of his coffee, this time, it was much more bearable. “You can see that they are invested, and to keep them invested, they have to be confident. You have to praise them. You have to find new ways to teach them. New ways to explain things so that they can understand it. It’s different than working with people our age, or even just middle or high school age.”


Jimin nodded, jotting down a few things in his notebook. If he could tell one thing so far, it was that Yoongi was dedicated. It made him feel kind of... fuzzy . “And have you worked with older children? Or as you mentioned, people our age?”


“I have,” Yoongi answered simply. “But it’s not the same. They aren’t as...curious about things anymore I guess is how I would put it. They aren’t as mesmerized by it.”


“Have you always played the piano?”


There was a moment of hesitation. Jimin could sense that the question had struck some sort of chord and immediately went to the situation before they had to stop the interview.


“ don’t want to answer the question,” he said slowly. Cautiously. “You don’t have to.”


Yoongi shook his head. “It’s fine. But uh...No, I didn’t always play the piano,” he murmured. “I played when I was younger, but then I stopped for a while. I picked it back up in high school, though.”


Jimin could tell that there was something that Yoongi wasn’t telling him. That there was far more to the story than he was letting on. Jimin let it go, though. If he didn’t want to share, he wasn’t going to push him.


It went on like that for a while.


Jimin asking questions, and Yoongi providing answers in the warm, comfortable atmosphere of the back corner of the cafe.


“What about you?” Yoongi asked, tone completely nonchalant, like he hadn’t just completely gone against the construct of an interview. “You keep asking me questions, and I know that that’s your job, but what about you?”


Jimin was, admittedly, a little caught off guard. His eyes widened a bit, mouth slightly agape as he mustered a quiet, “What?”


“I said, what about you?”


“What...What do you want to know?” Jimin inquired, his previously professional composure gone and replaced with something much more childish and timid.


Yoongi thought it was cute.


Jimin thought he was perfectly okay with dying right then and there.


The older of the two shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. He was on his second cup at this point, almost his third. “Where are you from?” He prompted. “What do you like to do? Do you have any siblings? I don’t know. I’m getting tired of talking about myself.”


“I’m from Busan,” Jimin started, taking a moment to collect himself. “I moved up here for college, and my younger brother plans to follow when he graduates.” He bit his lip. This was not his job. It was the opposite of his job. “Um...I don’t know, I’m not very interesting I promise.”


Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, drawing out the last syllable for an extra beat. “I think you’re underestimating yourself.”


Suddenly, Jimin found his shoes to be the most interesting thing in the entire world. “I um...Thanks, I guess,” he managed weakly, missing the look of absolute satisfaction cross Yoongi’s face.


The older of the two just shook his head and leaned back in his chair. He wanted to mention how cute he thought the other was, but he decided it was best to just let it slide for now. “You’re fine,” he said. “Don’t think too much of it. Anyway, I actually have class at three, so if we’re just about done...”


Jimin looked up from his shoes at to the slew of items on the table. Napkins with coffee stains, napkins without coffee stains, pens, Jimin’s notebook, Yoongi’s keys, and mugs all decorated the table top. He stared at the mess for a brief second before shifting his gaze up to meet Yoongi’s eyes.


Jimin definitely had all the information he needed.


Jimin definitely didn’t want to see Yoongi go.


Regardless of what he wanted, though, Jimin nodded his head. His carefully styled bangs falling out of place. “Um...Yeah,” he murmured hesitantly. “I think this is enough to, you know...Make a match.”


Yoongi offered a smile and began collecting his belongings. He took off his scarf and coat about forty minutes ago, when the heat in the cafe was just becoming unbearable. He shoved his keys in his pocket as he stood up, pushing his chair in. The legs scraped against the old worn, wooden floor, creating a sound that was just as unpleasant as it was pleasant.


“It was nice to meet you face-to-face,” Jimin said, standing up himself. The two were the same height, give or take a few centimeters. “Let me know if you have any questions. You have my email and phone number.” He prompted, running a hand through his hair before hooking his thumb into his back pocket. “Otherwise, I’ll get back to you no later than the end of next week.”


There wasn’t really much to say on Yoongi’s part. At this point, all he could really do was trust that the matchmaker would work his ‘matchmaker magic’, and to hope for the best. He had faith in Jimin though. He trusted him.


“Sounds good,” he answered, giving an awkward half-smile. Goodbyes were never easy for Yoongi. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”


There was an exchange of waves as they stumbled over their small, whispered, nervous sounding goodbyes.


Jimin watched as Yoongi walked out the door.


Jimin already felt like he was missing something.


Yoongi finds that he had every reason to trust Park Jimin. He was true to his word.


Sure enough, by the end of the next week, Yoongi walks out of a tutoring session, backpack slung over his shoulder, with one new voicemail.


He doesn’t wait to listen to it.


Yoongi sits on the front steps of some office building. The frigidness from the granite seeps through the material of his jeans and travels up his core.


He shoves the one hand that he isn’t using to hold his phone between his thighs, and his fingertips get some relief. He figures that it will just have to do for the time being.


The wind picks up as he puts his phone to his ear, the bitter cold burning his nose as the recording of Jimin’s voice plays.


“Hello, this is Park Jimin. You hired me as a matchmaker, and we met at the beginning of last week,” the recording started. Yoongi thought that maybe he should have waited until he got home, because now he wants to yell at every driver who honks their horn, or every child who talks just a little too loud. “I just wanted to call to inform you that I have, in fact, been able to find you a match.”


Those were the words Yoongi had been waiting for, but why did he suddenly feel sick? Why did it seem like his entire world got shifted sideways?


The voicemail continued to play.


“He’s a nice man, I really hope you’ll like him. He has brown hair, he is a college student. A business major, actually. I made a reservation for dinner so the two of you could meet up this coming Friday at seven. Let me know if there’s any kind of scheduling conflicts, and I’ll see if I can book something for a later date. I’ll talk to you soon.”


Yoongi’s heart sank, his limbs felt heavy, and he just wanted to be home . He just wanted this awful feeling of dread to go away and-

“Oh, and Yoongi, before I go.” There was a pause, as if he wasn't sure if he should continue. “His name is Park Jimin.”