Picture it, five days after dinner.

A snug pair of headphones sat like a crown over Yoongi’s head. There was a steady stream of music flowing into his ears but his eyes were closed and his left hand knuckles were dug into his cheek – fisted hand supporting a heavy head full of dreams he wouldn’t quite remember when he woke up. A casual trip to the campus coffee and book store had resulted in his ultimate demise considering he hadn’t exactly planned on falling asleep propped up against the iced over corner window.

His unused hand was curled protectively around his messenger bag that housed his laptop and study material, or a lack thereof on the latter. Even in a deepening slumber, the unfinished piece on his computer was bothering him. It was so bad that Jin, a few nights ago, had nudged him out of a light nap he’d been having on the couch to ask if he was okay.

Apparently he’d been mumbling lyrics in his sleep.

Such is the case now – sat drowsy in the warmth that the coffee shop offered. His voice was drowned out by the semi-seasonal music playing overhead but a few fellow students had noticed his subconsciously moving lips and snapped a video to show their friends. An oblivious and exhausted rapper slept on, despite the mild stir he was causing. Too busy snoozing to notice a familiar smile enter the building, in walks Youngjae.

Since the dinner where he’d met the darker haired boy, the rapper had noticed him around campus several times but he’d always been surrounded by too many others to notice Yoongi, too. Or so he thought, that is. It seemed to fit him, though. The younger oozed with social ability – he’d caught him talking several times to people that Yoongi himself couldn’t stand as far has he could throw them. What Yoongi seemed to lack, Youngjae had in excess.

He didn’t know if that was admirable just yet or if it was annoying as hell.

Youngjae greeted the barista like a longtime friend and ordered his usual, swiping his campus card for payment before she even told him the total. This was like second nature to him by now. Tucking his wallet back into his coat pocket, Youngjae shrugged off the bag he'd brought for classes and was about to take a seat near the counter because – usually – he would take his coffee and go. He barely had the patience to sit still on any given day.

Today, though, was different. Dark eyes landed on a familiar head of hair and a familiar coat, his mind immediately pulling up that lingering look Suga – no, Yoongi – had given him when they parted after dinner. He thought about the fact that, ever since they formally met, he’d seemed to run into the other everywhere outside of class. And so, with a disdain for his poor cheek’s health, he made his way over to the other and was shocked to find him out cold.

For a moment, he debated waking him up. That idea, however, was shoved away, considering he barely knew this guy and waking him up from a probably great dream just seemed the quickest way to get on his bad side. Rubbing his bare hands together, he was about to go back to his first choice of seating when the blonde boy’s voice caught his attention. He was mumbling something that sounded like a song which made sense considering the headphones he spotted.

The strange thing though, was that he could have sworn he’d said –

“Youngjae!”

The woman’s voice announcing his order about made him jump free of his own skin. His eyes jerked away from the sleeping student to the counter and he quickly gathered his wits.

But of course, as luck would have it, the woman’s voice was loud enough that it seemed she’d woken up Yoongi in the process of scaring Youngjae. When Youngjae shot the blonde boy one last look, those intimidating eyes (sufficiently less intimidating now since they were hazy with sleep) were back on his.

They stared at each other for what felt like a thousand years before Yoongi’s mouth parted, tongue flicking out to wet his chapped lips before a groggy voice could confirm who his dream drunken mind was seeing. “You seem to have a habit of staring at me, you know.” His cheek was red and awfully sore when he pulled his hand away, but he was still too out of it to complain.

Youngjae would have audibly gasped if he had any control of his body. He did not, however, which is why he stood there – arms almost crossed like a defiant child – mouth nearly agape in complete shock at what his ears had just heard. Was he serious? “I wasn’t – I don’t stare at people. You’re the one sleeping in a coffee shop.” This information didn’t matter at all, but he had to be tactical. If he was defensive, maybe he wouldn’t turn the color of a cherry tomato.

“You’re the one watching me sleep.” His headphones were off now, concealed back inside his bag. The darker haired boy was dumbfounded at how casual this conversation was going, considering how awkward it probably sounded from the outside looking in.

Youngjae’s mouth was stretched tight.

Foiled.

About to put up another defense mechanism, he remembered his saving grace and shook his head in a matter of fact way. “Actually,” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards and Yoongi noted how it had done that back at the barbecue place, too. “I was just ordering coffee. I came over to tell you thank you for the other night but you were-“

“Sleeping. And you watched me sleep.”

This was a lose-lose battle. Youngjae accepted defeat. Again. Cursing himself for trying, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and his heels, not-quite storming to the counter to retrieve his drink. Quickly apologizing to the woman who he made wait, he took his drink and grabbed a napkin, taking a cautious sip on his way to the door.

Yoongi watched in sleepy amusement but amusement nonetheless. This guy seemed to be too uppity for his own good. Just before he, too, got up to leave, he managed to catch a glimpse of Youngjae’s profile while he shouldered the door open, and he cracked a tiny smile when that familiar rose color gave him away. What a world he lived in, really.

For Yoongi, the game was just getting started.

For Youngjae, he was already tired of playing.

That was what he told himself, at least, and almost every one of his close friends when he got back to the shared apartment that evening. He’d tell anyone that would listen, really, just how snooty this guy was. Of course, snooty was furthest from the truth – but what information did he have to go off of?

“I knew that,” Youngjae’s voice lowered an octave, face contorting to something smug, mimicking Yoongi under his breath as he settled onto the household’s couch, book tucked under his arm to pry open in a couple of minutes. “Who even says that?” After a pause, he clicked his tongue and pulled his drink to his lips, taking a comfortable sip now that it had cooled down.

Mark happened to be passing by at that moment, interested in what Youngjae had ordered and why on earth he hadn’t brought him any. “Where’s my coffee?” His eager hand was reaching to take away Youngjae’s recent prize before the dark haired boy shouldered it away, grunting his disdain. He did not share his coffee.

“Back at the campus coffee house, that’s where. You should have texted me if you wanted one.” His voice held a certain bite that would make anyone new to Youngjae question it, but Mark simply laughed, yanking a strand of Youngjae’s scarf as revenge for getting denied a sip. Used to the teasing, Youngjae cracked a grin and pulled his book out to the bookmarked page, the flat of his palm anchoring it open against his thigh.

“Someone get your order wrong or did you just get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Mark’s voice was almost sing-song as he wandered over into the open kitchen, snooping around the cabinets, grabbing a can of cocoa mix for himself. Tis the season for hot chocolate already although Thanksgiving hadn’t even passed. “You seem cranky today.”

A long, exasperated sigh that had been brewing since he spoke to Yoongi – no, Suga, he decided he’d think of him as Suga just to spite – left him as the opportunity to rant surfaced. He hadn’t told Mark about the dinner a few nights ago or the colorful personality he’d met there, but now he took the time to.

Mark’s cocoa was half cooled by the time Youngjae caught him up to where he’d come home from meeting him again earlier. “I can’t tell if he’s sick or upset or if he is just permanently in a fighting mood. Honestly, it must be so frustrating.”

Mark’s mouth twisted up into a small smile and he shrugged, taking his seat beside Youngjae with a mug of cocoa warming his palms. “You think you’re any better?” His tone was challenging but his face was gentle. “It’s hard to stand you sometimes, too.” About to fight him on that, Youngjae flipped his book closed. Mark elbowed the darker haired boy, shushing him, throwing an arm around his shoulder before leaning his head against the soft fabric of his friend’s seasonal sweater.

“You’re too happy all the time. It’s time you met someone who will put you in your place.”

He made that sound as if he and Yoongi – , Suga – were seeing each other on purpose. Youngjae didn’t know if that made him mad or disappointed in Mark. How dare he, really. Huffing out his displeasure at the previous statement, Youngjae decided to take a drink of his coffee before digging his hole even further. “Being happy is good. Being mean is bad. Didn’t your mom teach you that? It’s elementary, dear Watson.”

And just like that, Mark regretted making Youngjae watch Sherlock with him last summer.