Scandal

"Yoongi, I—" His lips pressed onto mine, effectively putting an abrupt stop to my sentence. I momentarily forgot what I came to his studio for—his arms were drawing lazy circles on my back under my shirt, and it was all too easy to get lost in the headiness of his woodsy scent and his tongue dancing on my cupid's bow. "Hi," he murmured against my mouth, one hand leaving my skin to reach behind me. He pushed on the lock and swung me around, pressing his torso against mine. I staggered backward until the back of my knees came in contact with the leather two-seater squeezed in between the shelves. I yelped, instinctively grabbing Yoongi's forearms to prevent myself from falling, but he pushed on, carrying my weight and gently lowering our bodies on the sofa. Wait. I came to his studio to talk. Yoongi's mouth trailed hot kisses down my neck, while his fingers slid to my front, deftly unzipping my jacket. His hips were heavy on top of mine, and I could already feel him hardening against my inner thigh. Warmth bloomed deep in my core in anticipation. Holding on to the last shred of my resolve, I grabbed both his cheeks and forced him to face me. "Wait," I gasped, unable to resist flexing my fingertips through his sideburns. He scrunched his eyebrows together, annoyed at the interruption. I didn't want to stop either, but the adult in me wanted to actually speak to him. "About this morning," I began, searching his eyes for any indication of what he might be thinking about what he saw in the dance room. They narrowed fractionally, but he didn't say anything. "Hoseok-oppa and I are—" "—just friends," he cut in, planting both hands on either side of me and hauling himself up. He stood in front of the couch as I awkwardly pulled myself up to sitting position. My jacket was gaping open and my tank top was askew, but I fought the urge to cover up. "Yeah," I continued, resenting how small my voice sounded. "I just wanted to be clear," I explained lamely. Yoongi stared at me for a full five seconds before giving a small nod. "Hobi told us. Don't worry about it." I looked up. He had his usual blank expression pasted on his face. Something started to bubble in my gut. Would it kill him to at least be concerned that I was with another guy? He was livid when I danced with Hoseok-oppa during the party—but this morning was okay? That's because the two of you are not anything, adult rational me pointed out. I feel my heart constrict. Of course. No matter how intimate they got, it would only ever be purely physical for Yoongi. Despite the things he had said, there would never be any attempt to move their relationship to the next level because there was no relationship. Why did I keep forgetting that? Because your heart is running away from your brain, adult me smirked. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I could be that girl—the kind who engaged in meaningless affairs like this just to satisfy some urges, I simply couldn't. Yoongi and I were not on the same page—we weren't even on the same damn book. "Ya." His voice pulled me back to the present. He was frowning. "What's wrong?" I couldn't control my own damn feelings, that's what's wrong. "Nothing," I replied automatically, shifting my gaze to his cluttered desk. It was overflowing with papers and his equipment was on; he must be working on a song. I should get going. "Jiyoung-ah." His voice had an edge to it, and it commanded that I meet his eyes. He regarded me for a split second, as if debating with himself. "Come here," he ordered, his drawled Daegu accent lacing his words. He took my hand and pulled me up against him. "Stop overthinking," he murmured, securing his arms around my waist. His eyes flashed with a trace of emotion that I couldn't quite decipher. "If we do, it'll drive us crazy." I'm already going crazy, I wanted to say. Sensing my trepidation, he freed one hand and cupped my cheek, his long fingers tracing my earlobe. I shivered despite myself. He lowered his head, and his lips ghosted against mine for a few torturous moments before settling on my mouth for a soft, lingering kiss. My eyes drifted close. Somehow, it left me dizzier than the intense, heavy makeout from earlier. Yoongi hummed low in his throat and deepened the contact, sliding his hand behind my head and pulling me closer still. He pushed his tongue in and against my own without preamble—I couldn't stop the moan that escaped me, my knees growing weak and unsteady. Before I knew it, we were back on the sofa, and I was once again pinned down beneath Yoongi. But this time his touches were...different. There was a tenderness that wasn't there before—or was I imagining things, hoping for something that didn't exist? His open mouth was hot against my collarbone, and my pulse went into overdrive, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. I slipped my hand between us, under his shirt, and ran it across his firm stomach, loving the feel of his skin as his breath caught. Memories of the Club Diamond rooftop flashed in my mind, eliciting a gasp from me as my body remembered Yoongi's kisses—and fingers. "You taste so good," he groaned, his fingers slipping under my tank top. Where did my jacket go? His fingertips felt iron-hot as they traveled my navel and up my stomach. Goosebumps flooded my skin, and I found myself lifting up to meet his touch. He lingered on my ribs for a scorching second before sliding under my bra to cup my breasts. I gasped, arching my back in response. He shuddered on top of me as he kneaded my flesh, hissing as he buried his face against my neck. His hard-on was pressing against the apex of my thighs, and he ground against my mound as his thumbs brushed against my hardened nipples. "Yoongi!" I cried out, clutching his shoulders. I found myself moving my hips against his, making him groan against my skin at the friction. He moved his head down without missing a beat, yanking his right hand out from under my top to grab the neckline and pull it down, exposing one breast. The cold air conditioning chilled my sensitive skin before he lowered his mouth and took the peak between his lips. My mind went blank at the scalding sensation. I— A jarring, loud buzz at the door sliced through the foggy haze that we were in, startling us both. We jumped apart, scrambling to straighten our clothes. Yoongi had enough presence of mind to help me jam my arms back into my jacket and zip it up for me, pressing his forefinger against his lips. I froze on the couch, nodding. I could feel and hear my heart roaring in my ears. He walked to the Lab's double doors (I could not be more relieved at that moment that he had an extra one installed) and cautiously opened them a tiny bit. "Mwo?" He asked the intruder, scowling. "Hyung," I heard Jungkook chirp happily from the other side of the wall, unperturbed by Suga's glare. "We brought you back some food from the resto." Eyes wide in terror, I held my breath, not daring to move an inch. If he saw me inside the studio in the very state I was in... Yoongi grabbed the bag that the maknae was handing him, yanking it through the narrow opening. "Thanks," he mumbled, giving the singer a small smile. "Najung-e bwa." "Aish jankkanman hyung!" Jungkook's palm slapped against the glass of the first door. Yoongi held the door tighter to prevent it from swinging open. "I wanted to see the song you told me about. You told me to come why are you not letting me in?" "Mian, I'm not done," Yoongi replied immediately, without a trace of nervousness. While I was dying a slow death at the ten different scenarios playing in my head if Jungkook insisted to come in. "I can show it to you while I'm eating," Yoongi continued. My heart jumped to my throat. "Um, can you swing by the café first and get me an iced americano? My, uh, my head hurts and I need coffee. Jaebal." There was silence from the hallway. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Jungkook sighed. "Araseo. Money?" Yoongi shooed the other away none too gently. "I'll pay you back. Just get the coffee please." He clicked the doors shut. I let out a shudder of breath. That was close. Too close. I stood up abruptly, clutching the sides of my jacket. "Is he gone?" Yoongi sighed, softly banging his forehead against the door before nodding, his back still at me. "Yeah." "Dahaeng ida," I breathed out shakily, willing my legs to move. I needed to get out of the studio. I walked almost mechanically to the door, slipping past Yoongi. This couldn't— I was halted by his fingers closing around my wrist. "Jiyoung-ah." I froze on the spot. I couldn't meet his eyes—not after what just happened. If Jungkook saw us— He tugged gently, bringing me back inside just by the door. His finger touched my chin and tilted my face up. His eyes were dark pools of obsidian, but they had a softness that drew me in spite of the nerve-wracking turn of events. "No overthinking," he repeated quietly, dropping a light kiss on my nose. No overthinking. I nodded mutely, clasping his finger for a second before letting go and heading back to the office with shaky legs and a very, very confused heart. -------- "Be careful, Jungkook-ssi," the guard warned me as I reentered the building, eyeing me with concern. I balanced Yoongi-hyung's coffee, some muffins, a couple of bananas, and my strawberries-and-cream frappe on one arm while I yanked off my face mask. Stepping into the elevator, I recapped hyung's odd behavior, wondering why he was acting nervous. He had his trademark dead face while he was talking to me, hiding behind the Genius Lab doors and refusing to let me in. But I lived with the dude for more than half a decade—I knew when he was frazzled. The bell dinged, and I stepped out, nearly spilling the brown liquid on my white hoodie. Aish. I grabbed the paper bag filled with food between my teeth and gingerly transferred one cup to my other hand. Whatever. I was excited when hyung mentioned that he was working on something in the studio and it was really new, and he needed my help. Me. Prideful Min Yoongi needed me to help him produce. I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I poked the Lab's doorbell with my pinky, and unlike a few minutes ago, it opened almost instantly, and I was ushered in. I carefully placed the cups on the desk and let go of the bag. Yoongi-hyung plopped back to his seat, the lunch I brought him laid out neatly among the stacks of paper and wires. I slurped on my drink, eyeing the editing program that was displayed on hyung's gigantic screen. The file read 'SLS.' I cocked my head sideways, wondering what it meant. "Is this the song you were telling me about?" "Hm," hyung replied with a nod, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed, then pursed his lips. That's Min-Yoongi-speak for he's hesitating. Ooh. He jutted his chin toward the monitor. "Play it." Curious, I pressed on the space bar. The speakers whooshed to life with airy sound effects, gradually increasing volume before dropping to some looped, slow snares. Wait—and cellos? I furrowed my brows in concentration as more strings followed. The tempo did not have the same urgency as the beats he used for his mixtape—but it didn't have the same energy as BTS songs, either. My eyes widened as the clip transitioned to what seemed to be the hook, and even more as the midi-based melody came in. Whoa. Whoa. Oh my freaking WHOA. I turned to Yoongi-hyung, mouth open in surprise. He had a stoic expression, staring at me expectantly. But I didn't miss the way his fingers fidgeted on his chopsticks. "This is—you're working on a ballad?" I asked, stunned. Suga-freaking-hyung. His mouth pressed into a thin line, then he nodded curtly. "That's why I needed your help," he shrugged, taking another bite of his lunch. He dropped his utensils and grabbed a printed sheet of paper, thrusting it into my hands. "Here are the lyrics so far. Maybe you can help me out with the melody of the vocals. I have most of it down but you can tell me if there's—what?" He frowned at the humongous smile on my face. I scanned the words, my grin widening. My cheeks hurt, but man, this is something. I screeched excitedly, catching hyung off guard. I met his startled eyes with my sparkling ones. "Oh hyung. This is going to be awesome!" "Aish, don't get too invested," Yoongi-hyung snapped, embarrassed. He grabbed his iced americano and took a long sip. "You'll help hyung with the guide vocals, is that okay?" I nodded so quickly I got a bit dizzy. "Is this going to be our song?" An unsure look flashed across Suga-hyung's face. "Let's just treat this as an exercise. This one's too different from what we put out. Let's see what happens." I bobbed my head up and down enthusiastically, reading through the lyrics. It was about a secret relationship—and wishing to be together in public. My smile faded. These lines—why are they like this? I was suddenly reminded of the scandal. "Hyung," I hesitated, and Yoongi-hyung's head snapped up at the change in my tone. "Is this song... is it about Suran-noona?" Confusion passed through hyung's expression, then a smirk. "Aish this kid. It's not about her." He shook his head and laughed as if I told him the earth was flat. "You don't need to experience things to write about them." He added quietly, and I closed my mouth. I shifted my eyes back to the lyrics on the paper. These words though.

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