"Are you kidding me right now?"

Yoongi's booming voice from the other end of the practice room put my hurried steps to an abrupt halt.

Shit. I almost made it out without being noticed. Now I've been made, and it was either run faster or act nonchalant. But my brain seemed to have been stunned by his unusually loud outburst—it may have stalled or completely stopped functioning altogether.

Before I could make the decision, a fist tightened around my wrist and mercilessly tugged. I could only scramble to keep up as he all but dragged me through the hallways. I looked around in panic. What if somebody sees us?

The universe was kind that night: the floor was deserted. It was almost 1 am, and I only wandered into the practice area, hoping for some time alone to think. Entering the dance studio was foolish, to say the least.

I didn't expect him to still be hanging around—he was never one to linger a second longer in practice unless he absolutely had to, let alone by himself. Of all the days...

Yoongi's shoes screeched into a stop in front of Genius Lab. He punched the security code angrily, jaws clenched. My heart started ramming against my ribcage—I didn't want to be alone with him. "Suga-ssi, I have to go back to work. I—"

He spun me around and pushed me inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

I stood just beside his swivel chair, frozen. For a few endless minutes, he just faced the shelf on the opposite wall, his back rigid.

There was no escaping him. A flicker of defiance bubbled its way up in my gut—who the hell did he think he was? I had had a long day and I wanted to go home.

He finally turned, looking at me squarely in the eye. The scowl that accompanied it was not lost on me. I unconsciously grabbed the armrest.

"Suga-ssi?" he echoed, shifting to face me. He crossed his arms and regarded me with barely reined anger. "So that's how it is now?"

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it flitted away so fast, I wasn't sure if I just imagined it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn't want to talk about this—whatever it was. "That's how it's always been."

He smirked, taking a step closer. "You and I both know that's bullshit." He kept walking closer, until I could practically feel his breath on my forehead. We didn't touch. My breath hitched in my throat. "Why the hell have you been avoiding me?"

Tears stung my eyes and threatened to escape my eyelids. I looked down, refusing to show him any semblance of being affected by the whole situation. I'd never let him know how much it hurt if it's the last thing I did. I bit my lip, saying nothing.

He let out an exasperated breath. "It's not true."

I couldn't let the tiny spark of hope settle in my heart. I took in a deep breath, hating how ragged it sounded. I forced myself to meet his narrowed eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Yoongi pushed his tongue against the inner wall of his cheek, the way he always did whenever he got frustrated. "Me and Suran," he huffed, unfolding his arms and planting his hands on his hips. "The dating rumor—you know it's not true."

I willed my face to remain stoic—but I wasn't sure if it worked. "It's really none of my business, Suga-ssi."

"The hell it isn't," he hissed, grabbing my shoulders, shaking them. "Stop calling me that. What the fuck do you think we've been doing, huh? Did you think I was playing a game with you?"

The tears welled up again. Dammit. "Weren't you?" I asked, resenting my weak voice.

Confusion passed through his face, to be quickly replaced by more anger. "Unbelievable," he spat out, dropping his hands to his sides. He spun on his heel to get away from me, and for a second, I thought he was walking out of the studio. Half of me was relieved; half of me, devastated.

But he spun back around. He swallowed my gasp as his lips slammed into mine, his arms snaking around my waist to prevent me from staggering back. All coherent thought flew from my mind as his mouth moved angrily against mine and pulled my body flush against his. The tip of his tongue danced across my lower lip, seeking entrance. He was making a point, and foolish me was taking it all in without a fight.

I couldn't. The tears finally roll down my cheeks, defeated. My mouth opened on its own accord, and he plunged in, his tongue sliding against mine for a few agonizingly sweet seconds, then he groaned, tearing his mouth away. He rested his forehead against mine, taking quick, shallow breaths. His long fingers splayed across my back, holding me in place.

My knees had turned into boneless mass, and my whole being was focused on taking in much-needed oxygen—I wasn't going anywhere.

It was painful as it was exhilarating. It had always been like this—moments where we'd meet eyes and suddenly, it was just the two of us in a locked, confined space, away from prying eyes, stealing kisses, touches, and whispered murmurs against skin.

We weren't dating. We weren't anything. We weren't even a we.

"You think I do this with anyone else?" Yoongi demanded, his raspy voice slicing to my very core. His hips trapped mine against his desk; his hardness pressed against my leg, and my insides clenched with desire in spite of. Despite the. I fought off the fluttering in my stomach with all my might, but it was a losing battle and we both knew it. He thrust once, and I bit back a moan at the friction. "How the fuck do you think I feel?"

His hands traveled up, cradling my face, forcing me to look at him. His face softened; I could feel his thumbs trace the stream of tears that betrayed me.

"Pabo," he murmured, frowning, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. He leaned in, and I couldn't help but close my eyes. His woodsy scent was undoing every single resolve I'd made this morning. His lips landed softly at the corner of my mouth. "You idiot." Another kiss on my temple. "Such an idiot." I itched to run my fingers through his blonde hair.

He buried his face on my neck, wrapping his arms around me. "There's no one else," he whispered against my skin, tightening his hold. "Whatever you're doing, stop it. I can't take it anymore."

We're not anything, I struggled to remind myself. But my traitorous heart was already soaring.
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Notes