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~~~⏱⏱⏱~~~
Seokjin reaches down to run a finger along the metal necklace and finds it cool to the touch. So why does it feel so warm against his chest? And why is the pink stone glowing?
He must be seeing things. Or maybe a ray of afternoon sun is catching it, he reasons as he closes one eye to focus better.
“It’s just a necklace,” he whispers into the steamy air as he feels his other eye close, and a warm wave of sleepiness envelopes his body.
~~~⏱⏱⏱~~~
TWELVE HOURS EARLIER:
Seokjin is tired. Fuck, he’s so tired.
He wraps the silk robe tighter around his slim waist and takes a sip of wine, staring out at the lights of Paris. The sliding door to the hotel balcony opens and shuts behind him before the tickle of warm breath ghosts along his neck.
“Come back to bed, baby?” his boyfriend whispers, slipping a hand beneath Seokjin’s robe, fingers slightly rough as they brush against his already sensitive dick.
“Yeah, I’m coming.” He winces at the touch, legs tensing as the man squeezes around his tip.
“You will be soon,” the man chuckles, removing his hand and turning back toward the door. “Don’t be long.”
Seokjin nods and gulps down the rest of his wine as the door shuts, leaving him alone again. He has a sudden urge to throw his glass against the wall, but even that feels like too much effort. Instead he drops it in a flower planter and heads inside.
~~~
“Seokjin-ah! Get up, we’re gonna be late.”
Seokjin’s eyelids flutter open, immediately squinting as he tries to adjust to the light. The clock on the nightstand tells him it’s 6:00 AM. He’s only gotten a few hours of sleep.
“Mmm. Just a few more minutes,” he protests, trying to bury himself into the covers.
“Now, darling,” the man insists, pulling the blanket back and slapping Seokjin’s ass.
The contact stings across his skin and he rolls over, groaning when he feels the uncomfortable tug of dried cum between his cheeks.
“You could have cleaned me up,” he mumbles as he levers himself up to sit at the edge of the bed. His head is throbbing from lack of sleep. How many times did they fuck last night? He’d lost count.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. ‘m gonna shower,” Seokjin says as he stumbles toward the bathroom of the fancy suite.
He turns the showerhead on and proceeds to brush his teeth, not bothering to look in the mirror. He already knows he looks like shit. It doesn’t matter anyway—as soon as he gets to the photo shoot they’ll slap enough makeup on him to hide his black circles, then pump him full of caffeine and other less natural stimulants so that he can’t sleep again until the wee hours of the night. Copy, paste, repeat.
“Twenty minutes until the car arrives, babe,” his boyfriend calls out through the door to the en-suite.
Seokjin sighs, turning the water temperature to just below scalding and letting the hot stream flow across his shoulders. The life of a fashion model certainly isn’t what he expected it would be.
Sure, the first few years after being discovered on his university campus were exciting and glamorous—the free designer clothes, the ostentatious parties, the fawning fashion reviews. The press even gave him the nickname of “worldwide handsome” due to his ability to turn heads wherever he went on the globe. Yet it was draining too, both physically and emotionally—having to always be on, always be perfect. Drugs were plentiful, sleep was scarce, and the competition was fierce. He’d resorted to spreading his legs on a photographer's couch more times than he would like to admit, just to give him an edge in securing a shoot. He’s neither proud nor ashamed of it, really—it is what it is. In fact, it’s how he met his current boyfriend.
Eul-Tae is a renowned photographer, Korean born, raised in France, with great connections in the industry. And although he’s a few years older than Seokjin, he’s certainly not the oldest man Seokjin’s been with. There’s not exactly a lot of fireworks between them, but Eul-Tae is pleasant enough and Seokjin’s learned to love him—well maybe not love, but at least he doesn’t have to sleep around anymore.
“Ten minutes!” Eul-Tae yells from the other room. Seokjin rolls his eyes and turns the shower off. Another long day begins.
~~~
“Look up for me,” Jimin gently tilts Seokjin’s head, applying another layer of concealer. Seokjin does as asked, sipping on whatever nitro infused coffee creation they handed him on the way in.
“So how gorgeous am I today?” he quips, trying to ignore the concern in Jimin’s eyes. He’s always found humor to be his best defense—keep it light, easygoing, don’t think about things too much.
“Hmm. Worldwide handsome as always,” Jimin confirms softly.
Jimin is Seokjin’s favorite make-up artist. He’s always friendly and down to earth, and unlike most of the others, who either have unrealistic infatuation or automatic disdain for the models, Jimin treats him like a person. He appreciates that. He also knows Jimin won’t hold back.
“Have you eaten, hyung?” Jimin asks, watching an assistant rush over to drop two small white pills in Seokjin’s hand.
“Breakfast of Champions,” he jokes, popping the tiny caplets onto his tongue and chasing them down with bitter coffee.
“Seriously?” Jimin rolls his eyes, reaching into the shoulder bag hanging next to the mirror and pulling out a granola bar. “Eat.” He presses it into Seokjin’s hand.
“Jimin-ah, they want me in an open shirt today—” Seokjin tries to protest.
“Yeah, and that tiny bar isn’t going to show up on your abs in the next twelve hours. I promise. Eat it.”
“Fine,” Seokjin acquiesces, peeling open the wrapper and taking a small bite. He used to love to eat, now it feels like a chore.
Jimin hums in response, pleased to see Seokjin at least making an attempt. “So when did you get in and how long are you staying?” He holds up two tubes of lip gloss trying to decide on the right tone.
“Last night, and I’m not sure. I guess it depends on whether I can secure another photo shoot while I’m here—and how long Eul-Tae wants to put up with me.”
“Who exactly is putting up with who?” Jimin scoffs. He hasn’t exactly been quiet about how he thinks Seokjin is too good for the photographer. “It’s not like you’re even staying at his house. Pucker your lips.”
“You don’t understand,” Seokjin tries to speak through pursed lips as Jimin applies the pink gloss—it’s the one Seokjin would have chosen too. “The agency pays for the hotel, Eul-Tae says we should use it.”
“Done,” Jimin says, spinning him around to look in the mirror. He looks good. Jimin worked a miracle again. “But I’m not done with you yet. You need to start taking care of yourself. You should be putting yourself first, hyung,” Jimin says, hand on his hips and a scolding look in his eyes.
“Wardrobe, Seokjin-ssi!” a voice echoes from beyond the partition. They’re shooting at an abandoned mid-century church today and using the large dining hall as a makeshift dressing room.
“Ah. Saved by the bell.” Seokjin breathes out an exaggerated sigh of relief as he hops from Jimin’s chair.
“I’m serious!” Jimin calls out after him. Seokjin throws him a wink and a kiss, but keeps moving. He feels a little bad about his hasty retreat, but he doesn’t know what to say to Jimin anyway. How is he supposed to take care of himself when he stopped caring about himself so long ago?
~~~
“Seokjin-ssi, I’d like you to meet Taehyung, you’ll be modeling his Talisman line of jewelry today,” the assistant says, nodding to a man rifling through a rack of clothes.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet—” Seokjin’s words trail off as the man turns around. He’s beautiful—stunning even.
“Is something wrong?” Taehyung asks, eyes full of mirth.
“No, it’s just—well if you don’t mind me saying, you’re very attractive. Clearly you could be modeling your own stuff,” Seokjin offers.
The man lets out a gentle laugh. “I don’t mind you saying, and I dabble sometimes,” he replies, looking squarely at Seokjin. “But this particular collection was made just for you.”
“Oh.” There’s something odd in the artist's phrasing that sets off a nervous fluttering in Seokjin’s stomach—but that could also be the assorted chemicals burning through his veins. Maybe he should have eaten more of the granola bar. “Well that’s nice of you to say.”
The artist hums and claps his hands together, excitedly. “Let’s get started then.”
“Where is your, uh, team?” Seokjin looks around, used to designers having an entourage of people around them.
“Oh, it’s just me,” Taehyung replies, pulling a few items from the rack. “I’m thinking we go with a simple look to better show off the jewelry,” he adds, handing Seokjin an oversized white button down and flowy gray pants.
Seokjin stands there for a moment, expecting someone to dress him, then remembers it’s just the two of them and ducks behind the rack, making small talk as he changes.
“So, remind me—where are these photos going to be featured?”
“Mmm, I’m not sure yet,” Taehyung replies, head stuck in a jewelry trunk.
“You’re what?” Seokjin peeks around the rack. It’s almost unheard of to schedule a photo shoot without having a magazine or website backing the bill. The cost of facility rental, makeup and hair alone is a huge expense—not to mention the fact neither he nor Eul-Tae come cheap. “You must be pretty wealthy, then?” Seokjin probes. Not that he cares about the money—he stopped caring about that long ago too—he is curious though.
“I’m rich at heart.” Taehyung flashes a boxy smile as he stands up holding a pink satin jewelry roll. “Don’t worry, you’ll be adequately compensated—both in your pocketbook and your soul.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow but holds his tongue as he finishes dressing. Most of the designers he’s worked with think that their product is life-altering, so that’s nothing new—although there is something about this artist's word choices that strikes him as odd. Yet Taehyung seems nice enough and his mellow demeanor is actually kind of refreshing.
“There’s no mirror back here, so I’m not sure if this is what you were going for, but they mentioned an open shirt—” Seokjin explains, adjusting the shoulders as he steps out from behind the rack.
Taehyung’s smile widens at the sight of him. “Ah, it’s perfect.”
“Yeah?” Seokjin preens, happy that the granola bar didn’t go directly to his waist.
“Definitely. I can see the outline of your heart.”
Seokjin frowns, looking down at his chest. He knows he hasn’t been eating a lot, but it’s not like his rib cage is visible, and he does still work out—sometimes. He considers protesting, but before he can, Taehyung rushes over and takes his hand.
“Come.” He guides them towards an old wooden counter bathed in rays of sunlight streaming through the small windows above it. “Let’s change your life, Seokjin-ssi.”
It seems a little dramatic, but Seokjin shrugs it off as Taehyung continues, his voice taking on a soft, dreamy melody. “The piece you’ll be wearing is a talisman,” he says, untying the ribbon around the jewelry roll.
“Yeah, the assistant mentioned the name of your collection earlier,” Seokjin confirms, watching the satin unfurl across the counter.
“Do you know what a talisman is?”
“Um, not really,” he admits. “A good luck charm or something?”
“Sort of—it’s that and so much more.” Taehyung pauses, his long fingers smoothing reverently across the flaps of folded fabric, then leaning towards Seokjin. “It’s magic,” he whispers, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Magic. Okay, sure.” Seokjin remarks skeptically. There’s not much Seokjin finds magical anymore, except maybe Jimin’s makeup skills.
“It's not just any old magic, though,” the artist continues excitedly. “Wearing this will bestow supernatural powers upon its bearer—the power to heal and be healed.”
“Hmm.” Seokjin squints into the sunlight, reminding himself that all artists are a little crazy and that he should try to at least look interested in whatever is under that final fold of fabric.
“Voila!” Taehyung exposes the jewelry with a flourish, revealing—
—a single necklace.
“That’s it?” Seokjin snickers before he can stop himself.
“This is it,” Taehyung assures him, clearly not hearing the snideness in Seokjin’s tone.
Well, this is a major letdown, Seokjin thinks as he tries to school his face. The necklace is fine, nice enough, although a little on the small side to hold all the supernatural powers in the world. It looks a little grimy too.
“Uh, does it need to be cleaned?”
“No! The crevices contain the residue of time gone by,” Taehyung explains. “That’s the only way to get you to where you need to be.”
This is getting weirder and weirder, and honestly Seokjin’s buzz is starting to fade, so he decides to play along, hoping there’s more coffee waiting for him in the other room.
“Ah, okay. Well that makes total sense then.” He nods exaggeratedly. “Let’s put it on, shall we,” he suggests, turning around and ducking down so that Taehyung can reach his neck.
“Use the power wisely,” the artist whispers in his ear, as he fastens the clasp.
The amulet thuds against Seokjin’s chest, surprisingly heavy for its small size. The pink stone in the center is pretty though, he decides upon closer examination, tilting the pendant in his fingers to catch the light. He doesn’t feel very powerful though, just jittery.
“Okay, welp. This is great. I think I’m gonna grab some more coffee before we get started,” he says as he backs out of the area.
Taehyung just nods at him with a serene look on his face.
“I need some of whatever he’s on,” Seokjin mutters to himself as he grabs his third coffee of the day.
~~~
Mid-morning comes and Seokjin finds himself back in Jimin’s makeup chair. The photo shoot has gone well so far, moving along at a reasonable pace, but he’s glad for the short break as the production crew moves the equipment to a new location in the building.
“The photos are looking good,” Jimin comments, approaching Seokjin with blotting paper and lip gloss in hand.
“Hmm. Thanks to you,” Seokjin compliments, taking the final sip of his coffee and setting the cup down, thinking that he wouldn’t mind another.
“Thank you,” Jimin smiles graciously, dabbing at Seokjin’s forehead. “It helps when I have a beautiful canvas to build on.”
“So what do you know about this designer?“ Seokjin asks, curious. Unlike other designers he’s worked with, Taehyung has been pretty hands off, only making a few suggestions here or there as Eul-Tae guides Seokjin through the shoot.
“Never even heard of him before today,” Jimin pauses, considering. “It’s kind of weird. Usually I’ll have seen or read something about the designers we work with, but none of the other makeup artists have heard of him either.” Jimin shrugs. “I like him, though. He’s different, very mellow. I feel like we could be friends.”
Seokjin nods. Taehyung is kind of odd, but not in a bad way, he supposes. What is strange—and not in a good way—is the fact that he’s been without some type of caffeine in his hand for a whole five minutes.
“Hey, have you seen Eul-Tae’s assistant? I could use another coffee,” Seokjin asks. Jimin raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, probably about to offer him a fresh squeezed vegetable juice instead, but Seokjin cuts him off, hopping from the chair. “Well, since you’re done, I’ll go find him.”
Seokjin can see Jimin shaking his head as he makes his escape, wandering past the hair and makeup chairs, through the wardrobe area, and to the makeshift green room, but finding no one. Weird. He does spot a restroom toward the back of the dining hall though, and feeling the slosh of multiple caffeinated drinks in his stomach, heads in that direction. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to relieve himself before the next infusion of liquid into his gut.
He doesn’t even think about knocking before he opens the door.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t—” Seokjin stammers when he walks in and spots a person at the sink washing his hands and another pressed up behind him, lips on the back of his neck. “I’ll just—”
The person at the sink looks up, startled at the intrusion. It’s Eul-Tae’s assistant. Seokjin is just about to make a joke about him brewing coffee in the restroom, when the person behind the assistant also lifts his head.
It’s Eul-Tae.
“Seokjinnie,” Eul-Tae exclaims as he tries to slyly pull his hand out of the front of the assistant's pants. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh really? Because it looks very much to me like you’re fondling your assistant,” Seokjin says in a voice that is so much calmer than the storm he feels inside. He’s pretty sure he might be sick.
The assistant slips past him, whispering apologies, as Seokjin stares down Eul-Tae.
“Look, Seokjin-ah, I don’t think we ever put a label on what we have.”
“Oh, really? What happened to ‘You’re the only one for me, Seokjinnie’ and ‘I’m so happy when you’re here’?”
“Well, in my defense, I’m pretty sure we were fucking at the time,” Eul-Tae deflects.
“I see.” Seokjin can feel the tears teasing at the back of his throat, but he will not let Eul-Tae see him cry. He won’t. “You can pick up your things at the front desk of the hotel later,” he croaks, spinning on a heel to leave.
“Baby, you’re not getting any younger. You didn’t expect me to just be with you forever, did you?” Eul-Tae calls out after him.
Seokjin stops with his hand on the door knob, pondering the question. He’s not sure what he expected, to be honest. At this point, he’s not sure he’s had a coherent thought in years.
Fuck he’s so tired.
“Goodbye, Eul-Tae,” he says as he walks out the door, out of the building, and to the waiting car.
He doesn’t bother to look back.
~~~
Seokjin sits in a bathtub full of bubbles in the corner of his hotel en-suite, overlooking the streets of Paris. Housekeeping is knocking, his phone keeps ringing, and every time he moves the bath water sloshes onto his clothes on the floor—yet he can’t bring himself to care.
This may be a new record. It usually takes at least 12 hours for him to reach this level of I-don’t-give-fuck, and it’s barely noon. The wine probably helped to speed the process.
As expected, the first bottle went down smoothly, although it’s a shame he can barely taste the second one, nor the contents of the fruit and cheese gift basket that the hotel left upon his arrival. Still, he figures it’s helping to absorb the alcohol.
“Fucking fucker,” he shouts to the empty room to as he wipes the snot from his nose and shoves another tasteless strawberry into his mouth.
“Not getting any younger,” he grouses under his breath, recalling Eul-Tae’s words as he takes another swig straight from the bottle. He’s not entirely sure whether it’s anger or heartbreak he’s feeling, or if the dull thud in his chest is from the mix of uppers and downers in his system. It could be that the wine is helping to dull the pain, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt pain, or anything for that matter, in years.
Not since—
No.
He won’t let himself go there. He can’t. If he starts wishing things had turned out differently, he will feel things and it’s better to be comfortably numb. Numb is good. Numb is safe. Blasé quips and tiny white pills and meaningless sex means never having to think too hard. It means never having to think about what could have been.
Damn, what is that burning sensation in my chest?
Seokjin glances down and frowns, noticing the talisman still around his neck.
Shit. He forgot to return it before storming out of the shoot earlier. He feels a little bad about that—Taehyung seems nice, despite all that magic nonsense. He should probably take it off so he doesn’t ruin it.
When he reaches down to run a finger along the metal, it’s cool to the touch. So why does it feel so warm against his skin? And why is the pink stone glowing?
He must be seeing things. Or maybe a ray of afternoon sun is catching it, he reasons as he closes one eye to focus better.
“It’s just a necklace,” he whispers into the steamy air as he feels his other eye close, and a warm wave of sleepiness envelops his body.
~~~⏱⏱⏱~~~
“Hyungie!”
Seokjin’s eyes pop open at the familiar voice.
“Hyung, get your ass up. You said you’d help me cook dinner.”
Seokjin blinks, then blinks again.
I must have dozed off, he tells himself, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to ignore the nostalgic feel of the worn corduroy cushions molded to his side and the sound of the landlady’s kids playing outside. Yet when he dares to open his eyes again, he’s still in the same place—his old college apartment.
He hasn’t had a dream this vivid since he accidentally took LSD at a ‘70s themed gala a few years back, he thinks, looking around the room at the old thrifted TV and the coffee table with the chipped corner—and now at Yoongi staring down at him.
“I said get up.” Yoongi marks the statement with a slap to Seokjin’s ass, which he feels. Is it possible to feel things in your sleep?
“This is one hell of a dream,” he murmurs aloud.
“Dream? Jin-hyung, are you feeling okay?” Yoongi’s hand is suddenly on his cheek, then his forehead, rough and cool against his skin. His heart starts to race before another playful slap connects with his ass, sending a tingle much lower. “You’re not even warm. You’re just trying to get out of making dinner, aren’t you?” Yoongi’s lips curve into that quirky one-sided grin he always reserved just for Seokjin as his hand raises once more.
Seokjin scrambles to sit up.
It's not that he minds the feeling of Yoongi’s hand on his ass, but as strange as it sounds, he’s beginning to think this might not be a dream. If that's the case then he has bigger problems than being involuntarily aroused by a smack to the butt cheek.
“Just, uh—give me a sec.” Seokjin darts off the couch and past Yoongi’s curious stare to where he remembers the bathroom to be and shuts himself in, pressing his back against the door. His pink fuzzy robe is hanging on the hook next to Yoongi’s Iron Man towel and the scent of the handmade strawberry soap from the ahjumma downstairs mixes with Yoongi’s aftershave and attacks his senses. This looks just like his old bathroom, smells just like his old bathroom—but how?
Seokjin steadies himself and tries to catch his breath, but a burning heat in his chest distracts him. When he looks down he finds that he’s dressed in his favorite Maple Story shirt—and there’s a pink glow coming from beneath it.
The talisman.
It all comes back to him in a sudden moment of clarity—the odd designer, the magical jewelry, Eul-Tae’s wandering hands, his drunken pining in the bathtub.
What was it that Taehyung had said? That the talisman would take him to where he needed to be?
Did I make this happen? he wonders as he turns towards the mirror and almost collapses. Gone is his carefully coiffed hairstyle with the swept back bangs and over-plucked eyebrows, and in its place a shaggy mane of hair covering a face that looks young and eager—and like it’s never seen a facial before. His nails are rough and unmanicured, his tummy plump and soft, and when he pulls down his sweatpants—another shock. He can’t even remember a time he wasn’t manscaped.
Oh my god, did I actually used to look like this?
“Jin-hyung, you’re starting to worry me. Are you sure you—” Yoongi cracks open the door to find him running his fingers through his pubic hair. “Um, what’re you doing?”
“I, uh—” he stammers, wishing he could crawl into a hole or turn back time—except he’s apparently already done that.
“Geez. You get one offer from a modeling agency and already it starts,” Yoongi teases. “I don’t think they’re gonna be photographing your dick. I mean, unless it’s that kind of modeling.”
“What? No! Of course not.” Seokjin pulls his pants up and turns to wash his hands, hoping that Yoongi can’t see how red the tips of his ears are under all his hair. Great, now his head is spinning for two reasons. “Um, I need to—” he mumbles, pointing to the toilet and hoping to buy a little more time.
Yoongi thankfully acquiesces, shutting the door behind him, and Seokjin plops down on the seat with his head in his hands. He doesn’t really need to go, but he does need more time to process.
If this isn’t a dream—and it’s feeling more and more like it’s not—then Taehyung’s magic must be real. He must actually be stuck in some weird time warp where he’s gone back to his college days. But why? Why is this where he needs to be? As soon as he asks himself the question, the answer is already apparent.
Losing Yoongi is the biggest regret of his life.
And based on Yoongi’s comments, today must be the day he got the offer from the agency, which, if nothing else has changed, should also mean he hasn’t accepted yet. If all of this is true, then perhaps, just perhaps, he can change his decisions—and with it the trajectory of his life.
The thought is truly overwhelming.
Seokjin rocks back and forth on the seat, his stomach a bundle of nerves. He can’t exactly pinpoint the feeling, but could it be hopefulness? Excitement? It’s been so long since he’s felt either emotion that it feels foreign to him. Yet he doesn’t hate it.
Of course, he’s not the only one whose future is on the line here. Although they didn’t keep in touch after their big fallout, he knows that Yoongi made a name for himself with his music and led what seemed to be a happy life—and Seokjin certainly doesn’t want to mess that up.
Then another thought hits him. What if he makes different decisions but Yoongi doesn’t? What if Yoongi still leaves? Will all of this be for nothing?
Seokjin doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions, but he knows one thing—he has to try. Besides, there's nothing worth going back to in his old life.
He takes another few moments to gather himself, then splashes cold water on his face. When he finally turns towards the door and opens it, he finds a still concerned Yoongi leaning against the opposite wall, chewing on his lip.
“Hyung?”
“I’m ready, Yoons,” Seokjin says with a smile. “Let’s do this.”
~~~
Seokjin sneaks another glance at Yoongi as he grills up the pork belly and wonders if the way he feels now is the same as he felt then.
It’s true that he had a crush on Yoongi from the day they were assigned as roommates their first year of university, but there’s no way that the old Seokjin knew how special what they had was. The old Seokjin hadn’t yet lived in the real world, hadn’t experienced success and betrayal, hadn’t compromised his morals and his dreams for fame and fortune. The old Seokjin didn’t know what it was to settle, or that it was even possible to lose yourself to the point of forgetting who you are. The old Seokjin hadn’t yet lived with ten years of regret for giving up the only real love he ever felt—for his best friend, his first love, the person standing in front of him now.
“Hyung?”
“What?”
“If you burn that meat, I’ll hurt you,” Yoongi threatens.
“Oh shit, sorry.” Seokjin turns the burner off. He didn’t realize he’d been daydreaming.
“You sure you're okay?” Yoongi checks again, swiping a tear from his cheek brought on by the onions he’s chopping. His fluffy brown hair falls loosely over his wrinkled brow and he blows a puff of air up to move it from his field of vision.
“Yeah, I’m good. This is just—it’s nice,” Seokjin admits, admiring the way Yoongi’s white v-neck t-shirt hangs loosely on his broad shoulders and how his toes peek out from beneath the frayed hem of his secondhand track pants. Yoongi rolls his eyes and laughs, cheeks already rosy from the bottle of soju they’re sharing. Hopefully he’s tipsy enough to not find Seokjin’s behavior any stranger then he already does.
“Yah! It better be nice. I spent a day’s pay on that meat,” Yoongi says gruffly as he places all the side dishes on the tiny counter. Once upon a time Seokjin would have been wary of Yoongi’s tone, but he quickly learned that Yoongi is all bark and no bite. In fact, Yoongi turned out to be one of the softest, most gentle people he ever knew.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Seokjin replies.
“Hey, it’s not everyday my best friend gets an offer from a modeling agency. We should celebrate.”
Seokjin nods shyly, plating the meat.
“Want to eat together at the counter?” Yoongi suggests, which is a bit of an anomaly for them. As typical college students, they usually load their plates and camp out in front of the TV, or if they’re really hungry, scarf down their food standing in the kitchen.
Seokjin’s heartbeat begins to quicken even as Yoongi says the words, since the original events of this day have been burned into his psyche for ten years. Not only is this the day he got the offer from the modeling agency—it’s the day Yoongi and he first get together.
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” he agrees, watching Yoongi with interest as they take their seats in the cramped eat-in kitchen area, which is no more than two stools pushed up to a small overhang on the counter. Back when he lived through this original timeline, Seokjin didn’t notice the waver in Yoongi’s voice at the suggestion, or the hint of blush on Yoongi’s chest as their thighs brush. He must have been too caught up in his own emotions at the time, but Yoongi is clearly nervous too.
The realization makes his chest burn hot and bright and he looks down, wondering if the sensation is coming from the talisman. But it’s not. It’s all him.
Dinner is good, the company even better, and Seokjin doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he hasn’t eaten a real home cooked meal in years, but he suddenly feels famished. He quickly finds himself stuffing huge bites into his mouth, much to Yoongi’s delight.
“So. Are you going to call the modeling agency first thing in the morning?” Yoongi asks, once they’ve almost had their fill.
“Maybe?”
“What do you mean, maybe, hyung? You’d be crazy not to jump on this,” Yoongi chides, shoving a carefully constructed lettuce wrap into his mouth.
“I don’t know anything about modeling, Yoons.”
“They’ll teach you.”
“But models are all gorgeous,” he protests.
“Have you looked at yourself lately?” Yoongi replies incredulously.
“Well, I am pretty handsome,” he teases back, and just like ten years ago, Yoongi shoves him so hard he almost falls off his stool before catching him at the last minute. When he finally rights himself, Yoongi’s hand remains on his chest.
Their laughter dies down, faces still close, cheeks pink from alcohol and slightly breathless from the exertion. Seokjin can feel the tension in Yoongi’s thigh where they are pressed together as his heart taps out a beat against Yoongi’s palm.
“But what if I’m not good enough, Yoons?” he confesses his insecurities into the small space between them.
When Yoongi’s hand leaves his chest, Seokjin is sure he’s going to fly away, but then it’s back on his cheek, cupping his face and drawing him nearer.
“You’re the best, Jin-hyung. They’re going to love you,” Yoongi whispers back before pressing their lips together.
And as much as Seokjin was expecting this—as much as he knew this would happen, having lived through this moment once before—he’s still not ready. How can you ever be ready for the butterflies-in-the-stomach, life-altering newness of a first kiss, even if experiencing it for a second time?
“Y–You kissed me,” Seokjin whispers when they pull apart, just as surprised as the first time.
“Yeah.” Yoongi bites his lip coyly and averts his eyes, swallowing nervously. When he recovers he slaps Seokjin’s thigh. “Yah! This doesn’t mean you get out of doing the dishes though!” he jokes, pushing off of his stool and heading to the living room.
And just like that, the moment is over, exactly like the first time. Only now, Seokjin knows what he needs to change to make things turn out differently.
At least he hopes he does.
~~~
Seokjin can’t sleep.
This isn’t necessarily a new thing, other than the fact that it’s not chemicals racing through his bloodstream but rather thoughts racing through his brain that’s keeping him awake.
So far the evening has progressed the same as in their original timeline. After dinner they played video games, ate too much ice cream, then waddled to their room awkwardly, neither sure exactly how to deal with this new “thing” between them. He can still hear Yoongi tossing and turning in the twin bed across the room.
The minutes tick by like hours as Seokjin waits, wondering if history will again repeat itself. He’s tempted to go to Yoongi’s bed, but he doesn’t want to cause a strange rift in the time-space continuum, or something like that. He doesn’t actually know how time travel works, but he’s beginning to think he should have paid more attention when he watched “Back to the Future”.
He flops to his side impatiently and faces the wall, rubbing the talisman between his fingers. It would be helpful if it came with an instruction manual, since he has no idea how magic is supposed to work. He’s deep in thought, trying to remember if Taehyung may have given him any clues, when he feels a whoosh of cold air as the covers lift up. Before he can even register what’s happening, a warm body slides into his bed, pressed against his back.
“Hyung?” Yoongi’s voice is hushed, the words tickle across Seokjin’s neck.
“Yeah?” Seokjin croaks out, immediately lightheaded from the contact.
“Is this—is this okay?” Yoongi asks tentatively.
Seokjin maneuvers himself to turn over in the narrow bed until they’re face to face, practically nose to nose. The moment is surreal. Despite the tens of thousands of times he’d replayed this night in his mind, nothing compares to the real thing, and he finds himself noticing the oddest details—the sweet citrus scent of Yoongi’s breath, the way his bony knuckles gently compress the skin where they rest on Seokjin’s hip, the chill of Yoongi’s toes ghosting against his calf.
“Do I have a choice?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop them, the years of snarky quips and deflected emotions like a defense mechanism that he can’t quite shake. Yoongi tenses, begins to pull away as Seokjin panics.
This isn’t how it happened in the original timeline.
“Yoons.” His fingers scramble to pull Yoongi back, tamping down the ingrained urge to build a wall against the one person, the only person, he ever wanted to let in.
“It’s okay if you don’t. I never even asked before I kissed you—” Yoongi’s mumble trails off as Seokjin pulls him closer, pressing their lips together and swallowing the words.
“I’m sorry, it was a joke—a bad one. I’ve actually never wanted anything more in my life,” he confesses when he pulls away.
Yoongi’s eyes search Seokjin’s face through the moonlit room, the quiet huff of their breaths the only sound to fill the darkness. The moment feels charged, almost desperate, and Seokjin doesn’t know yet if he’s ruined things, or if Yoongi feels the same.
When Yoongi leans in to continue the kiss, he has his answer.
Their bodies cling to each other in the quiet night, tongues exploring, speaking stronger than any words they could utter. When lack of oxygen forces them apart, Yoongi rolls Seokjin to his back and he goes easily, their lips pecking awkward kisses as they begin to shed their clothes.
“C–Can I?” Yoongi asks, sliding a large hand between them as he settles on top.
“Y–Yeah.”
Pre-cum provides just enough wetness as Yoongi’s large hand engulfs Seokjin’s shaft, electricity shooting through his body at the gentle touch.
The first time they were together—the real first time—Seokjin remembers being nervous and shy. He had only had a few relationships prior, none of them particularly serious, and none with a person he cared for as much as Yoongi. He was also relatively inexperienced, a virgin, and unsure of himself. But now with a wealth of experiences behind him—or in front of him, technically—he can’t help craving more.
But what if it’s too soon? In the original timeline they didn’t have sex, just traded sloppy hand jobs and fell asleep. In fact, they never had sex—he fucked things up before they had the chance. The fear of messing things up this time overshadows his desires, so he focuses instead on the moment—which is probably a good thing, because even though he carries the memories of ten years of experience in his brain, his body is apparently still a virgin. The way Yoongi kisses him, the curve of Yoongi’s spine as he traces it with his fingers, the delicious friction as his cock ruts into the circle of Yoongi’s hand, has him on the edge within minutes.
“C–Close. Yoons, I’m close,” he sputters, reaching between them and peeling off Yoongi’s fingers to wrap his own hand around both their lengths.
“F–Fuck.” Yoongi repostions himself, licking desperately into Seokjin’s mouth as his hand joins Seokjin’s, the tiny twin bed creaking with each stroke. It only takes a few more seconds before Yoongi’s hips begin to stutter, the warm wetness of his cum flowing over their hands and onto Seokjin’s stomach, triggering Seokjin’s release.
He comes so hard and so fast he feels dizzy, dropping his hand and fisting the sheets as Yoongi works them through it.
“Wow,” is all he can say, as Yoongi carefully climbs off, flopping onto his back.
“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, leaning over to get a t-shirt from the floor to clean them up as they catch their breath.
Maybe it’s this inexperienced body, or the fact that it’s Yoongi, but Seokjin can’t remember the last time he’s felt this sated from a sexual experience, let alone a simple hand job.
“Hyung?”
“What?”
“Are you humming a Madonna song?”
He hums the next few bars of “Like a Virgin” before Yoongi shoves him, almost knocking him off the tiny bed, and then catching him by the hand and pulling him back up.
“You’re such a dork.” Yoongi laughs, intertwining their fingers in the darkness.
Seokjin laughs too—something he hasn’t done in a long time. There are still so many questions and worries in the back of his mind, but he decides to let himself enjoy this moment for now. He’s tired, but it’s a different kind of tired than he’s felt for the last ten years.
“Hyung?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to call the agency tomorrow, okay?” Yoongi squeezes his hand, a tinge of worry in his voice.
“Mmm-hmm,” Seokjin hums in response. He has no intention of actually calling, but Yoongi doesn’t need to know that, he thinks, as a blissful sleepiness settles in, blurring his consciousness.
Unfortunately, Seokjin’s bliss is short-lived.
~~~
“Are you coming to the club to watch us play tonight?” Yoongi asks as Seokjin rushes into their bedroom, dropping a stack of designer clothing store bags onto his bed.
“Tonight? Oh, shit. Is it—Yoongi-yah I’m so sorry, I have a thing tonight.” It had only been a few weeks since he signed with the agency, and already they were like ships in the night. “Maybe I can get out of it.”
“Don’t be silly, hyung,” Yoongi plasters on a smile, trying to hide his disappointment. “You have to do this for your career. I understand.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make the next one, I promise.” Seokjin leans in and brushes his lips against Yoongi’s, then frowns. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feel of the collagen injections they gave him. “I’ll come home early tonight.”
He doesn’t.
Fast forward. Another few weeks have passed.
Seokjin stumbles into the apartment in the middle of the night.
“Yoongi-yah. Psst, Yoongi-yah!” Seokjin whispers loudly in the way only drunk people can. He flops onto Yoongi’s bed, waking him.
“Hyung?” Yoongi rouses from a dead sleep, squinting at the clock. “What time is it? God, you stink like alcohol.”
Seokjin snuggles closer, pawing at Yoongi’s clothes,
“Hyung, it’s late. I have class in the morning,” Yoongi protests.
“Please? I miss you,” Seokjin slurs, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats.
And he does miss Yoongi, misses the weekends spent watching him perform at the club, or the quiet nights with just the two of them, studying and playing video games and enjoying each other’s company. Since signing with the agency, he hasn’t had time for any of that, hasn’t had time to think.
“I miss you too,” Yoongi admits, letting Seokjin push his pants out of the way, turning toward the touch as Seokjin curls his body to take Yoongi into his mouth—and then promptly passes out.
Another day, another party, and Seokjin is so tired.
Between photo shoots, learning the ropes with his trainee class, lack of food, lack of sleep and the perpetual cycle of drinking too much at agency events, he hasn’t spent any meaningful time with Yoongi in weeks—and on top of that he’s not even getting paid yet. Not to mention, he’s pretty sure he’s failing all of his classes,
But tonight—tonight he managed to get a ride home early from one of the managers. He really needs a break. He really needs to see Yoongi.
“You’re doing great, Seokjinnie. I really think you have a good shot at the agency signing you to a full contract,” the manager tells Seokjin as they walk up to his apartment door.
“Really? That would be amazing,” Seokjin says with relief. “I was beginning to think that maybe this was the wrong choice for me. I mean, it’s been a little rough balancing everything with my classes, and my grades have suffered. If this doesn’t work out, I’m kind of screwed.”
“Well, you know, I am on the selection committee.” The manager moves closer, crowding Seokjin against the wall. His breath is hot where it ghosts across Seokjin’s cheek, the minty breath spray he used doing little to mask the rancid smell.
“I–I don’t want any special treatment,” Seokjin says in a panic, trying to move away—but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. This was a bad idea.
“Still, having an insider as a friend can’t hurt,” the manager grunts, moving in to press their lips together.
You’re not my friend, is all Seokjin can think as he submits, too tired and afraid to do anything else. He’s given up so much already. What’s one kiss?
“What the fuck?” The sound of Yoongi’s voice startles the manager, who backs off. Seokjin’s heart stops beating for a split second when he sees Yoongi at the edge of the landing, equipment in tow, returning from his show. The look on his face is unmistakable, a mixture of hurt and disgust that Seokjin has never seen before.
“Yoons,” Seokjin whispers.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll be going then.” The manager retreats, squeezing past Yoongi, whose eyes are still trained on Seokjin.
“Yoongi-yah, it’s not what it looks like. Let me explain!” Seokjin shouts, as Yoongi turns around as walks down the stairs and back to his car. Seokjin follows him down, screaming his name at the top of his lungs as Yoongi throws the car into drive and squeals out of the parking lot. “Yoongi-yah!”
“Yoongi-yah!”
Seokjin wakes in a cold sweat to the sound of a blaring alarm, his heart practically beating out of his chest. It takes him a few moments to realize where he is, and that it was just a nightmare—a reminder of everything that went wrong the first time.
He manages to find his phone, tangled in the sheets, and kills the incessant beeping, before turning towards Yoongi’s bed. It’s empty, the bright mid-day sun filtering through the blinds. A glance at the clock tells him it’s almost noon, and on the nightstand lies a note in Yoongi’s chicken scratch.
Hyung,
Don’t forget to call the agency today. See you tonight.
Yoons <3
He doesn’t recall Yoongi leaving him this note in the original timeline, which is a little odd, but no matter. It’s time to change history anyway, and one thing is for certain—he’s not going to make the same mistakes again.
~~~⏱⏱⏱~~~
Traveling back in time is not as easy as it seems, Seokjin realizes, as he meanders through campus, trying to remember how to get to his first class. If he’s not going to be a model anymore, he probably should actually learn some life skills and try to not get kicked out of university like he did last time.
Fortunately, his phone has his class schedule in it. Unfortunately, the cheap, ancient technology does not have GPS, nor any of the apps that he’s come to rely on to function in the future.
Apparently his memory is not that great either, at least when it comes to directions.
“Lost?” A familiar voice catches his attention as he spins in a circle, trying to get his bearings.
“What?” Seokjin's head jerks up, wide eyed, and—oh my god, is that…?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man laughs softly, touching his arm. “You just look a little lost.”
“I—yeah.” Seokjin schools his face, trying not to stare. “I’m looking for the theater building.”
“Oh! I’m heading that way. Let me show you. I’m Jimin, by the way.”
He doesn’t know me, Seokjin realizes.
“Hi. Uh, I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin,” he says tentatively, not sure what to make of this development. He doesn’t remember meeting Jimin until years into his modeling career, and certainly not at university. Apparently history has begun to shift.
“Transfer student?” Jimin asks.
“What?”
“I just figured that you must be a transfer student since it’s already the middle of the semester and you don’t know where your class is.”
“Ah, no. I’m not a transfer student, just, uh—had a rough night last night.”
“Wow, it must have been quite a night!” Jimin’s laugh is light and bright, his eyes turning to crescents when he smiles, just as Seokjin remembers.
“Something like that,” he responds, loosening up a little at his friend's familiar smile. “Are you in the theater program too?”
“Me? Oh, no. Film and media studies. But my real passion is make-up.” Jimin turns to Seokjin, eyeing his face. “You have great bone structure.”
“I know.” Seokjin defers the compliment the only way he knows how. With humor.
Jimin stares back at him for a moment before snorting out a huge laugh. “I like you, Kim Seokjin-ssi,” he says, taking Seokjin’s arm as they set off across campus.
~~~
The impromptu meeting with Jimin aside, the rest of the day goes smoothly, and Seokjin even finds himself enjoying his classes—something he didn’t necessarily do the first time around. Still, he’s happy that it’s Friday. Yoongi hasn’t been far from his mind all day and he’s most excited to see what new developments this evening will bring. However, when he gets back to the apartment, Yoongi is nowhere to be found.
He heads to the kitchen and pulls out last night’s leftovers, then stands in front of the open fridge, stuffing cold meat into his mouth. There’s definitely something to be said for wearing sweatpants over designer clothes, he thinks, washing his impromptu meal down with some milk.
When he closes the door, he spots a note that Yoongi left for him.
Playing at the club tonight. See you there?
Yoons <3
A broad smile settles onto his face. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.
~~~
It takes him nearly an hour to shower and get ready (old habits die hard) and another thirty minutes to remember the password to his bank account and withdraw some cash (which is woefully low—he’s going to have to remember how to live like a broke college student). So by the time he gets to the club, it’s already nearly 9pm.
“Sheesh. It’s about time!” Hobi confronts him as soon as he walks in the door.
“Hi, hyung!” Jungkook greets him with a big hug.
“Hey—hey guys!” Seokjin tries to hide the surprise in his voice. He’d spent so many years trying to erase the memories of this time in his life that he’d almost forgotten he had friends, or a life at all, before modeling.
“It’s okay, you didn’t miss their set yet,” Hobi assures Seokjin, leading him over to their usual table in the corner. “By the way, you owe us a drink.” Jungkook nods in agreement, a devilish smile on his face.
“A drink? For what?”
“You said it would never happen,” Hobi teases, bumping his shoulder.
“What wouldn’t happen?”
“You and Yoongi-hyung. Duh.” Jungkook joins in.
“He told you?” Seokjin wonders. That doesn’t seem like Yoongi.
“I knew it! I knew it!” Hobi screeches, high-fiving Jungkook.
“Wa–Wait, I’m confused.”
“He didn’t exactly tell us, hyung,” Hobi explains, with a devious grin. “But it was obvious by the way he kept looking at the door waiting for you earlier. He even blushed when we asked him why he was so fidgety.”
The thought of Yoongi blushing makes Seokjin’s heart race a little. He considers asking Hobi and Jungkook to not let Yoongi know that he spilled the beans, but he remembers enough to know that won’t go over well. He should have never told these two about his crush.
“Yeah, I guess maybe there’s something going on between us,” he admits. “Just don’t be weird about it okay?”
“Us? Never?” Hobi pulls Seokjin into a big hug. “We’re. Just. So. Happy. For. You. Both,” Hobi coos, rocking Seokjin back and forth with each word.
“Yeah, that wasn’t weird at all,” Seokjin comments when Hobi finally releases him.
“Ahh. It gives me hope for Namjoon-hyung and I,” Jungkook says wistfully, chin in hand, always the romantic.
“Well, Kook-ah, it might help if you could actually speak when you’re around him,” Hobi teases.
“Shut up. It’s not my fault I get nervous. He’s just so smart, and nice—and also, have you seen his thighs?”
Hobi rolls his eyes and Seokjin can’t help but laugh. He missed this. He missed them.
All of them, but especially Yoongi.
Seokjin has just enough time to buy a round of drinks for the table before Yoongi and Namjoon’s set begins and even though he must have watched Yoongi perform hundreds of times before, he’s absolutely rapt the entire time. Frankly, it’s been so long that it’s like seeing him for the first time, all over again.
He must have missed so much over the years.
He never wants to miss another moment again.
~~~
“Hey! Can I get your autograph?” Hobi calls out as Yoongi and Namjoon approach. He says the same thing every week.
“Hey, guys. How was the show?” Namjoon asks, toweling the sweat from his face.
“Oh god,” Jungkook mutters under his breath.
“What’s that?” Namjoon asks.
“I mean good. Good.” Jungkook’s eyes are impossibly wide as he shrinks in embarrassment. Hoseok snorts, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice.
“Hi. You made it.” Yoongi grins, sidling up to Seokjin.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Oh, Yoongi is blushing, he thinks as their hands brush. The desire to pull Yoongi into his arms is overwhelming, but he fights the urge.
Hobi looks back and forth at the two awkward couples and rolls his eyes. “Looks like this round’s on me,” he announces, standing from the table.
“Um, actually—I’m a little tired. I think I might just head home and get some sleep,” Yoongi says, turning to Seokjin. “Do you want a ride?”
“Yeah. Yes. I’m tired too,” he blurts out a little too eagerly.
“Tired. Yeah, sure.” Hobi sighs. “Get some sleep you two.”
“Yeah, sleep.” Jungkook giggles.
Yoongi stares at them for a beat, then grabs his bag and turns to leave. Seokjin follows.
“What am I missing?” they hear Namjoon say as they exit the building.
“Hey. Did you tell them about what happened? Between us, I mean?” Yoongi asks as he loads his bag in the car and closes the trunk.
“They kind of guessed. I’m sorry, Yoons. We didn’t have a chance to talk this morning and I didn’t know—I guess I didn’t know if you wanted to keep what happened a secret? Or even if you wanted it to continue?” he says, feeling like a nervous schoolboy all of a sudden—which he supposes he truly is again.
“No, it’s fine.” Yoongi bites his lip nervously, stepping closer to Seokjin. “You know, I’m not—I’m not actually tired.”
“God, I was hoping you’d say that,” Seokjin admits, glancing around the parking lot before pulling Yoongi closer and pressing their lips together. Yoongi whimpers into his mouth and Seokjin is pretty sure he’s going to combust from the sound alone.
“Let’s go home,” Yoongi says breathlessly when they break apart.
“Yeah. Home.”
Thankfully their apartment is only a few blocks from the club, because the tension between them is insane, and Seokjin finds himself dizzy just at the thought of what might happen when they get there. There’s a brief delay when the ahjumma downstairs stops them to ask about their day, but they finally make it past her and race up the stairs to their apartment, flushed and giggling.
Yoongi is on him the moment the door closes.
“Hyung.” Yoongi snakes his arms around Seokjin’s neck, then jumps up and wraps his legs around Seokjin’s waist.
Seokjin catches Yoongi’s smaller frame easily, lips crashing together, teeth nipping, tongues searching. It’s been less than 24 hours since they were last together but it seems like years to Seokjin. Yoongi seems equally as impatient.
“Bedroom,” Yoongi manages to grunt between kisses.
Seokjin carries him there, flopping them both onto Yoongi’s bed and almost rolling off the side.
“Fuck. Why are our beds so small,” he groans, their laughter reverberating across the small space as they pull at each other’s clothes, their lips and hands never far apart.
“I’m sweaty,” Yoongi apologizes.
“Don’t care.” Seokjin tugs at Yoongi’s shirt, not even waiting until it’s off before his lips are on Yoongi’s skin, tongue tracing down a collarbone, circling a nipple.
“Fuck.” Yoongi’s whole body shudders.
Seokjin breaks contact long enough to let Yoongi pull his shirt off, before he’s back on him, the need to taste and explore every inch of Yoongi’s skin like a survival skill.
“Hyung, please.” Yoongi’s hips jerk up needily.
“Yeah, okay.” Seokjin moves down Yoongi’s body, fingers fumbling with the worn and faded belt and tugging at his jeans. The timeline has clearly shifted. This is all happening so fast, so different from the first time, but Seokjin doesn’t want to stop. He never wants this to stop.
He kisses down Yoongi’s soft tummy, pulling down pants and boxers until Yoongi’s slender pink cock springs free. Yoongi’s fingers twist in his hair as he laps at a drop of pre-cum, the salty sweet taste sticking to his lips and rolling across his taste buds. He suckles the tip, then takes Yoongi deep into his mouth as Yoongi tenses beneath him, his heavy breaths punctuating the otherwise silent room.
“Hyung, stop. Wait.” Seokjin worries for a split second, but then Yoongi is dragging him up, kissing his lips. The taste of pre-cum mingles in their mouths. “Not yet. Don’t want to come yet. Want to come with you inside of me,” he half-explains, half-pleads, as he helps Seokjin to remove his pants.
“Yeah, I—yeah.” Seokjin takes the bottle and coats his fingers, then slips his hand between Yoongi’s thighs, tentatively circling his rim. Yoongi’s hips tilt, chasing the touch, but then Seokjin hesitates. Despite years of future experience, he feels like a virgin all over again.
“You can—it’s okay, I can take it,” Yoongi assures him.
The first finger goes in easily. Yoongi rocks into it.
“Just tell me if you need me to stop.”
“If you stop, I swear I’ll hurt you,” Yoongi threatens with a breathless laugh that makes Seokjin smile. This feels so right, so comfortable between them.
“You look beautiful.” Seokjin’s lips brush Yoongi’s cheek, teasing a second finger at his hole.
“Coming from Mr. Worldwide Handsome, that’s something.”
The nickname catches Seokjin off-guard. It’s something he associates with his modeling career, his old life—definitely not with Yoongi. But he forgets about it when Yoongi suddenly pulls him forward, pressing their lips together.
They kiss softly as Seokjin slowly works him open, reveling in the way Yoongi’s body responds. It doesn’t take long before Yoongi is guiding Seokjin between his legs.
“I’m ready.”
“Do you have a condom?” Seokjin asks, pausing to rock back on his knees.
“It’s okay. You’re clean, right?’
Seokjin nods.
“Me too.”
Yoongi hands him the lube, and he proceeds to slick up his shaft, lining himself up at Yoongi’s entrance.
“Fuck, you’re so big.” Yoongi tenses as the fat head of Seokjin’s cock gently presses forward, breaching his rim.
“W–We don’t have to, Yoons.” Seokjin pauses. There’s a reason he spent most of his life bottoming—partly other men being intimidated by his size and partly the fact that most of the assholes he slept with either had misguided control issues, or wanted to be able to tell themselves they weren’t really gay when they went home to their wives and girlfriends. As if sexual position meant any of that.
Yoongi pulls Seokjin forward, caressing his cheek. “Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.”
Seokjin feels the same way. If only Yoongi knew how long—
Seokjin gently spreads Yoongi’s legs, hooking them over his elbows and opening Yoongi up as he presses forward, their breathing falling into sync. His face finds Yoongi’s neck, inhaling his scent, as Yoongi peppers kisses on his shoulder, tight hole fluttering and clenching as it stretches to accommodate his size.
The moment is so heavy—the twisted emotions, the realization of a lifetime of desire and regret.
“J–Jin-hyung,” Yoongi stutters when Seokjin is finally seated inside him.
Seokjin raises his head, swiping at his face to hide the tears—only to find tears in Yoongi’s eyes, mirroring his own.
“You okay?” Seokjin asks. He knows why he’s crying, but why is Yoongi?
“Y–Yeah. It’s just—it’s perfect. This is perfect.”
“It is,” Seokjin whispers, feeling the weight of ten long years of hopelessness lift from his shoulders as he leans down to kiss the only man he ever truly loved.
No more words are spoken—there’s no need, their mouths and hands instead telling the story. Seokjin begins to move inside of Yoongi, each stroke both soft and desperate. Yoongi’s body molds to his, welcomes him in, rocks in time with each gentle thrust until they are both vibrating with the same energy and heat.
It’s everything Seokjin ever wanted—and more than he thought he’d have the chance to experience. And when Yoongi clenches around him, fingers digging into his back, he clings to Yoongi just as tightly, their shared release consuming him until time and space cease to exist—as if it’s always been just the two of them, forever like this.
As he regains his senses, the first thing Seokjin notices is a warm pink glow coming from the corner of the mattress. When he finally opens his eyelids, he realizes the source.
Shit. The talisman. It must have come off with his shirt.
Seokjin rolls off in a panic, pulling Yoongi to his side and away from the pulsing light, eyeing the necklace over Yoongi’s shoulder. He doesn’t know how he’d explain if Yoongi was to catch a glimpse of it—but luckily he doesn’t have to. The glow soon fades as they come down from their high.
What Seokjin fails to notice in his rush to distract Yoongi, is that there is a similar pink glow coming from the ring on Yoongi’s finger—which Yoongi quickly tucks beneath their bodies to hide.
~~~⏱⏱⏱~~~
Seokjin hums as he ladles another kimchi pancake onto the skillet. Last night was a good night. This morning was even better, waking up with Yoongi in his arms.
“You made breakfast?” Yoongi grins as he walks into the kitchen, towel drying his hair.
“Yeah, I’m famished these days,” Seokjin notes, enjoying his rediscovered appetite. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, Joon-ah wants to run through the new set since we’re playing it for the first time tonight. It’s okay if you can’t make it,” Yoongi tells him, sneaking a bite from the stack of pancakes. “Mmm, this is good, hyung.”
“Yah!” Seokjin playfully slaps his hand with the spatula, then carries the plate to the counter, taking a seat. “Of course I’ll be there. Why would I not come?”
“I just thought with your new modeling thing, you know—I figured you’d be busy.”
“Ah, about that.” Seokjin twists his lips, remembering the note Yoongi left. “I never called the agency.”
“What?!” Yoongi’s chopsticks fall to the plate, his eyes trained on Seokjin. “What do you mean you didn’t call?”
“I’m just not sure it’s right for me,” Seokjin explains.
“Hyung, you have to call!” Yoongi seems so adamant about this—it’s a little strange.
“Remind me on Monday,” he says, not wanting an argument right now. Not when things are so good.
Yoongi eyes him warily. “Monday then. You promise?”
Seokjin nods. He feels terrible about the lie, but he can’t tell Yoongi why he’s not making the call. He’ll have to come up with a good explanation before then. He just needs some time to think.
~~~
“Hey there, Mr. Model.”
Seokjin looks up to find Jimin approaching from across the quad.
“Mr. Model?”
“Good bone structure, remember? Mind if I join you?” Jimin grins as he plops down on the grass beside Seokjin, not bothering to wait for a response, then opens his backpack and pulls out two granola bars. He hands one to Seokjin. “You should eat.”
Seokjin laughs at the familiar words. Clearly Jimin is still Jimin in any timeline.
“Thanks.” Seokjin takes a bite and leans back against the tree with a sigh. It’s been a whole week since he was magically thrust into the past and things aren’t going as well as he hoped.
“Another rough night?” Jimin asks cheekily.
The truth is that it kind of was. Seokjin still hasn’t called the agency and he’s running out of excuses to tell Yoongi as to why—and the fact that he can’t share the true reason is weighing heavily on his mind too. There’s a strange distance growing between them because of it, like they’re walking on eggshells around each other. Last night they even slept in separate beds.
“Hey, what’s that?” Jimin spots the card from the modeling agency in his hand.
“It’s nothing.” He had forgotten he was even holding it as he tried to come up with another excuse to get out of making the call without upsetting Yoongi.
“Oh shit, hyung! I was kidding, but you really are a model!”
“No, no. I’m not a model,” Seokjin quickly pockets the card. “An agency scout just gave me their number last week.”
Jimin leans back on his hands, eyeing him with interest. “Last week, huh? I guess you don’t want to make the call.”
Seokjin shakes his head. “Is that weird?”
Jimin seems to consider for a moment before responding.
“I’m sure you have your reasons, hyung. After all, you’re the only one in control of your destiny, right?” he says with a wink.
Seokjin manages a half smile. “I guess you’re right.”
“You gonna be okay?” Jimin asks, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “We can go grab some coffee together if you’d like?”
“Thanks for the offer, Jimin-ah, but I’m fine. Besides, I’m supposed to go watch my roommate perform tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Is he in a band?”
“He’s a rapper. He and his friend play at the club just north of campus every Friday.”
Jimin perks up, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Ooh, my boyfriend loves rap. Maybe we’ll come check it out. Gotta run, hyung!”
Seokjin watches Jimin leave, then gathers up his things, recalling Jimin’s words,
If I’m the one in control of my destiny, then why do I feel so lost? he wonders, rubbing his thumb against the talisman where it hangs on his chest. It hasn’t lit up or felt warm in days and he’s beginning to think the magic may have worn out. I could use a little more magic right now, he thinks as he heads home to get ready for the show.
~~~
“Um, what’s happening here?” Hobi asks tentatively, taking a sip of his beer.
“Nothing,” Seokjin and Yoongi say in unison then fall silent again.
“Yeah, riiiight,” Hobi remarks as Jungkook slumps down in his chair with a sigh.
Seokjin's decision to come to the club early tonight was a bad idea. He and Yoongi have barely spoken all night.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to sort it out,” Namjoon warns. “Preferably before our set in—” he looks at his watch, “fifteen minutes.”
Yoongi huffs and Seokjin kicks the leg of the bar table with his toe, but neither makes a move to speak.
“Hyungs? Please?” Jungkook pleads, with puppy dog eyes.
Another few seconds pass and Seokjin is just about to say something when Yoongi grabs his hand. “C’mon.”
They wind through the increasing throngs of people and out the front door of the club, wrapping their jackets tightly around themselves as they walk out into the cool fall night. Yoongi guides them over to a small alleyway next to the club and leans against the brick wall, hands in his pockets. Seokjin does the same.
“Yoons, I’m—” Seokjin begins to apologize again for not making the call, but Yoongi cuts him off.
“This isn’t working out,” Yoongi blurts.
“What?” Seokjin’s heart thuds in his chest, the cold metal of the talisman heavy where it hangs around his neck. “What’s not working out?”
“Us. This.” Yoongi’s face looks pained. “I’m holding you back.”
“What are you talking about?” Seokjin can barely breathe. He didn’t think it would go this far.
“Look, you have a chance at a good career, a chance to be a famous model,” Yoongi explains. “But you haven’t made the call yet.”
“Yoons, I tried to tell you I don’t want this.”
“How can you say that?” Yoongi raises his voice, exasperated.
“Fame isn’t everything.”
“Hyung, how would you know?”
“I know, okay? I just know!” Seokjin is practically shouting now too.
They stare at each other for a moment, the tension fading to a hopelessness as Seokjin watches everything fall apart before his eyes.
“It just—it wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Yoongi mutters, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he says regretfully as he turns back towards the club. “I better get back.”
Seokjin scrambles to find the right words as Yoongi begins to walk away, when a voice suddenly calls out.
“Jin-hyung! Are we too late?”
He turns in the direction of the familiar voice to see Jimin rushing towards them, dragging another man along by the hand. As they get closer, the hood to the man’s jacket slips back and Seokjin gasps.
“Taehyung?” Seokjin is just about to say—but Yoongi beats him to it.
Seokjin looks over at Yoongi, who looks equally as shocked and confused, and his mind begins to spin. What is Taehyung doing here, and more importantly, how does Yoongi know him?
“Nice to see you both again.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlight.
“What’s going on?” Seokjin asks in a shaky voice.
“Just checking in to make sure that you two end up where you need to be,” Taehyung narrows his eyes critically, looking between them. “Ah, not quite there yet, I see.”
Jimin giggles and rolls his eyes playfully. “Always so mysterious. Maybe it’s time that you explain, TaeTae.”
“Yes, please explain,” Yoongi grunts, stepping forward.
Just then the door to the club opens and Namjoon peeks his head out. “Hey, did you two get your shit figured out?” He pauses, noticing Taehyung and Jimin for the first time. “Oh, hello. Sorry,” he bows to the two strangers, then turns back to Yoongi. “It's almost time, hyung. We need to get back there.”
Yoongi looks conflicted for a moment, but then responds. “Alright, I’m coming, Joon-ah.” He stares at Taehyung, then opens his mouth as if to speak, but thinks better of it. Instead he turns to Seokjin. “Wait for me, yeah?”
“Yeah. Of course,” Seokjin replies, still in a daze.
Yoongi nods and rushes back into the building.
“Oh good! I was hoping we would get to see Yoongi perform.” Taehyung claps his hands together excitedly and pulls Jimin towards the door.
“Hey, wait!” Seokjin stops them, blocking their path and takes a deep breath, trying to sort out the conversation from the last few minutes. “J–Just tell me one thing. How do you know Yoongi?”
Taehyung reaches down and takes Seokjin’s hand. “Let’s just say I met Yoongi at a time in his life where he, too, had lost his path. I helped him find his way to where he needed to be—just like you.”
Taehyung squeezes Seokjin’s hand, warm and reassuring, before letting go and heading into the building.
~~~
Seokjin paces back and forth in the tiny green room, waiting for Yoongi. He was too shaken up by the strange series of events that occurred to go back to their table so he figured he’d wait backstage and try to sort things out instead. He’s still feeling unprepared when Yoongi walks into the room.
“Whoa, the crowd was on fire tonight, hyung!” Namjoon comments as he opens the door and enters, Yoongi trailing behind him. “Oh. Jin-hyung.” Namjoon pauses, looking between them and noting the still awkward silence. “Um. I’ll just grab my bag and leave you to talk,” he says, doing exactly that and quickly exiting the room.
“Hey.” Yoongi grabs a towel and sits on the couch once Namjoon is gone.
“Hi,” Seokjin replies. “Can we talk?”
Yoongi nods, and Seokjin takes a seat next to him, cracking his knuckles nervously. How does one even broach a subject like this?
“So—do you believe in magic?” Seokjin decides to just go for it. There’s nothing more to lose now.
“What do you mean?” Yoongi’s voice is measured, unreadable.
“This is gonna sound strange, but did you by chance meet that guy, Taehyung, in the future?”
“The future?” Yoongi quickly looks away, starts to stand from the couch. “Jin-hyung, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Seokjin grabs his hand, pulling him back. “Because I did. I met Taehyung in the future.”
Yoongi sits back down cautiously, their hands still intertwined, but doesn’t speak.
Seokjin takes a deep breath and continues, hopeful that he’s making the right decision.
“I was rich and successful, a famous model, just like you said I would be—and also terribly miserable. I had lost all hope. I didn’t care about anything or anyone, least of all myself.” He waves off the painful memory. “Anyway, Taehyung hired me to model his jewelry line, and he gave me this necklace.”
Seokjin pulls the talisman out from under his shirt, rubbing his fingers along the pink stone. He sees Yoongi glance down at it.
“He told me that it had the power to heal, the power to take me to where I needed to be. At the time, I thought it was a bunch of crap—just a silly story from an eccentric artist,” Seokjin chuckles, remembering his initial reaction. “Except, when I finally admitted to myself my biggest wish, my one regret, it brought me back to the past—here to you.”
Yoongi still hasn’t spoken, the room quiet except for the muffled din of another band finishing their set. When Seokjin finally dares to look up, he can see that Yoongi’s eyes are still trained on the necklace.
“Yoons, say something. Please.” Seokjin is beginning to think he made a mistake, then almost goes into a full blown panic when Yoongi lets go of his hand.
But then Yoongi reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring.
“Taehyung gave this to me.” Yoongi breaks his silence, placing the ring on his finger. It’s thick and antique looking, with a pink stone in the center—just like the necklace.
Another talisman.
“I–I was unhappy too,” Yoongi begins, fiddling with the ring and avoiding Seokjin’s eyes. “I was making music and doing the work I loved, but I had no one to share it with. I built up walls, made excuses for why my relationships never worked, but in the end I was always alone, with no one to blame but myself.”
Yoongi looks up with tears in his eyes. “I could never forgive myself for shutting you out, for giving up on us so easily,” he confesses, swiping a tear from his cheek.
“And Taehyung? How did you meet him?” Seokjin probes.
“He approached me at an industry event. I was just planning to show my face and then slink into the corner to drink my scotch like usual, but he wouldn’t leave me alone,” Yoongi chuckles. “He started talking to me about guardian angels and the power of magic, and by the end of the night I wanted to believe. I wanted a chance to make different choices, and I got it. But I wasn’t prepared for other things to change too.”
“Is that why you kept pressuring me to call the agency?” Seokjin realizes.
Yoongi nods. “I didn’t mean to change your whole life.”
“It wasn’t much of a life,” Seokjin admits. “I’m much happier here with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Seokjin takes Yoongi’s hand and places it on his chest, so that Yoongi’s ring is next to the necklace. “And it's kind of nice to know that I’m not going through this weird magical carpet ride alone,” he concedes with a smile.
They both look down at the jewelry, then back at each other.
“So,” Yoongi breathes out a sigh of relief. “What do we do now?”
“I could think of a few things.” Seokjin grins, pulling Yoongi closer, and watching a brilliant pink glow fill the room when their lips meet.
~~~
“Everything okay?” Namjoon asks when they finally make it back to the table.
“Yeah. Everything’s good.” Seokjin smiles at Yoongi and then looks around the room. “Hey, you didn’t happen to notice where those two guys we were talking to out front went, did you?”
“Oh, you mean TaeTae and Jimin-ah?” Hobi pipes in, acting like they’re old friends. “They just left. They said to tell you goodbye. Great guys.”
“Yeah, they were fun.” Jungkook nods in agreement.
“Excuse us,” Seokjin bolts towards the door with Yoongi close at his heels, scanning the street. He hears Jimin’s tinkling laugh in the distance before finally spotting the pair.
“Taehyung-ah! Jimin-ah!”
Seokjin and Yoongi race to catch up with them.
“Glad to see you both finally got to where you needed to be,” Taehyung says with a knowing smile.
“H–How do you know?“ Seokjin pants, trying to catch his breath.
“I told you before, Seokjin-ssi. I can see your heart.”
Seokjin looks down expecting to see the necklace glowing—but it’s gone.
“The necklace! I lost it!” he exclaims.
“My ring is gone too!” Yoongi yelps.
“They’re not lost,” Taehyung explains. “They served their purpose. You don’t need them anymore.”
“So—what happens now?” Yoongi asks worriedly.
“Anything you want to happen. Your future is in your control,” Taehyung beams. “You both have a second chance at happiness. I hope you use it wisely, because we won’t be able to come back to save you again.”
“We? Jimin-ah too?” Seokjin looks between the two of them. He still hasn’t figured out what Jimin’s role is in all of this.
“Aww, hyung.” Jimin steps forward and takes Seokjin’s hands. “I was really never a part of this timeline,” he explains.
“I–I don’t understand. I thought you didn’t know Taehyung? How did you get here?”
“I didn’t know him—not at the photo shoot, anyway.” Jimin reaches up and cups Seokjin’s cheek. “You don’t remember the aftermath of what happened in Paris, because we plucked you from the timeline before the worst of it, but I lived through it with you.” The sadness is apparent in Jimin's eyes. “So when Taehyung came to me and asked if I wanted to help save you, to help you find your happiness, I said yes.”
“And now Jimin has to return to his own timeline,” Taehyung confirms.
“Thank you,” Seokjin whispers, pulling Jimin in for a hug. He has to admit that having Jimin’s familiar face here along this journey was reassuring.
“You’re welcome,” Jimin pulls away, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He clears his throat and slaps Seokjin’s chest. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself this time, yah!”
“I’ll make sure that he does.” Yoongi nods, wrapping his arm around Seokjin’s waist.
“So—does that mean I won’t ever see either of you again?” Seokjin asks, realizing that if he never becomes a model he will likely not cross paths with Jimin or Taehyung.
“I wouldn’t say never,” Taehyung says with a twinkle in his eye. “After all, you don’t really know what this new future may bring.”
~~~
As they say their goodbyes and watch Taehyung and Jimin disappear into the darkness, a strange melancholy falls over Seokjin.
“Do you feel a little sad that they’re gone?” he asks Yoongi as they walk hand in hand back into the club.
“Yeah. As crazy as this whole experience has been, it was kind of nice to have a little magic in our lives.”
“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees. “I guess we’ll just have to make our own magic then.”
“I think we can do that.”
Their heads tilt closer, lips joining in a chaste kiss, and Seokjin has to admit that it feels pretty magical just to have the love of his life back by his side.
When they get to their table, Hobi is nowhere to be found, but Jungkook and Namjoon seem to be in the midst of a deep conversation.
Kind of odd.
“Um, where’s Hobi?” Seokjin asks, knowing that Jungkook usually gets so flustered around Namjoon that he hates to be left alone.
“Oh, hi, hyungs—you’re back! Hobi hyung is on the dance floor.” Jungkook says enthusiastically, waving them over. “But look, I almost forgot to show you—your friend Taehyung gave me a bracelet! Isn’t it pretty?”
“Not as pretty as you,” Namjoon whispers, loud enough for them to hear.
Jungkook giggles, and pats Namjoon’s thigh, the pink stone on the bracelet glowing under the table.
Seokjin and Yoongi stare at each other in shock.
Magic is apparently everywhere.
~~~⏱⏱THE END⏱⏱~~~