The last class of the morning was cut short with the professor’s rushed apology that they had somewhere to be urgently. Youngjae had overheard him on the phone with someone – most likely his wife – and he sounded as if he was begging her for some reason or another. Marital problems? He wasn’t trying to in, of course, but when someone is practically screaming ‘baby, please don’t mess with my motorbike – I promise it wasn’t what it looked like’ it becomes complicated to pretend that you didn’t hear.

Arms are thrown up, legs kicking out as the last in his row bypassed him to exit the room. A yawn escapes him, one that he doesn’t even try and disguise to look pretty. He was thoroughly exhausted.

Mark and the others had kept him up all night playing some kind of new game – Yugyeom wanted his input on a new dance routine he’d been practicing for his class – Jaebum was turning the house upside down looking for his phone – he hardly remembered the reason behind Jackson’s fuss but he was 99% positive it had to do with something Namjoon had texted him.

Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

Unlike Yoongi who only roomed with three others of the seven member friend group, Youngjae lived with all of them in a less than roomy suite downtown. The commute to campus wasn’t very long by foot but he most always took a campus shuttle when he was on his way home.

Sleep softened eyes danced around the nearly empty lecture hall, in absolutely no rush to get out or be anywhere but his own bed. The dark haired boy hadn’t noticed Yoongi come in – this was the class they shared – but he wondered if maybe, out of the ordinary, he had beaten him to class today.

There was a lack of white-blonde hair remaining in the room and something felt heavy inside of him. Was that… disappointment? Holy hell, no. This was not happening. He was just tired, that’s it. He needed a nice, long nap to recover his senses.

With an inner dialogue raging inside of him about how he sure as hell was not disappointed in not crossing paths with the grumpiest care bear alive, Youngjae slipped out of his seat and jogged his way up the steps towards the exit, needing to get some of that biting winter air into his system to wake him up.

The side he had climbed up lead to both double doors being closed and he thought nothing of it (literally almost everyone had exited by the time he was trying to leave, okay) when he nearly 80s crime drama kicked them open, his foot doing most of the work as his hands were tucked warmly into his denim jeans’ pockets. To his misfortune, though, there was somebody on the other side of the doors.

And that person was none other than Yoongi - no, Suga.

Startled at the loud holler that seemed to come out of nowhere, Youngjae recoiled a bit, eyes jerking around and then down, only to find a knitted beanie sans a body to adorn and then a mess of limbs, that white-blonde hair immediately making his cheeks catch fire. Oh no, oh god no. This was not happening to him of all people.

Open mouthed, he was frozen solid as the other’s right arm wound up around his back, rubbing angrily where the door handles had jabbed into his back. So many things came to Youngjae’s mind as to what he should do and say in this situation, ideally, but the only thing that left his mouth was a:

“I didn’t see you there!” This was followed quickly by a, “do you need help?” It sounded ridiculously pathetic out loud, not nearly as confident as he wished, but at least he –

“You didn’t see me there?” The not-quite-question came out in a hysterical laugh, a new kind of angry that Youngjae had not yet witnessed. Truth be told, he wished he never would again. From that moment, Yoongi let him have it, hissing and groaning out his frustrated remarks that never were finished before the next one arrived. “Of course you didn’t see me there are you a ing – do you ever look where the – why would you even kick the – oh my god, I’m – and you can’t even help me up!”

That last part was furthest from what he wanted, he swore to himself.

It was just due to the heat of the moment.

Yoongi had managed to get one leg up enough in the time he was hollering out, using his thigh and knee as support to push his other leg up. “I can’t even believe this is happening right now, I’m so close to—“ His right hand stayed pressed against his back, sure that he’d have a giant bruise in the morning, while his left hand raised up instinctively to rub at the side of his face he’d caught his fall with.

In the midst of the chaos and the frustrated mumbling, Youngjae hadn’t said another word, but when he saw the other’s arm move, he caught him by the elbow and stepped closer, so he could be in front of him now. Color Youngjae ing lucky that his usual first reaction to swing at someone who grabbed him like that had been hindered by his face plant from seconds ago. His senses were in a tizzy by this point, anger and pain and of all things, amusement, though he wasn’t sure at what exactly, buzzed bone deep within him.

“Should I take you to the hospital?”

The light haired rapper was physically taken aback at the other’s sudden voice, stronger than he’d heard it before, offering to have him checked on. He was equal parts quiet in awe and quiet in disbelief. Who did he think he was, anyways?

“I’m fine,” the words were bitten off, Yoongi trying his hardest to act as venomous and bitter as he could. If he could just get him to go away –

“You were hit pretty hard and I don’t want to leave you alone if you have a concussion or something,” he paused for a moment, eyes falling to the gentle but assuring hold he had on the other’s arm still. His already tinted cheeks burned as he tried to stammer through his explanation, getting cut short by the other right away.

“YOU hit me pretty hard. Remember that? I don’t have a concussion either, so if you could just — thanks.” He wriggled his arm away from the other, catching Youngjae off guard when he stepped away, squatting down to grab for his beanie.

Realizing that this was going to have to be handled the hard way, the darker haired boy shot his foot out, trapping the knitted cap between his shoe and the tile floor. “You wouldn’t know if you had a concussion.” It was blurted out, and again, was beside the point.

“What the do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi’s eyes jerked up to the other as if demanding an answer. Confused at what he saw, he stared at Youngjae, who for the first time since their proper meeting, seemed to radiate a sense of superiority. Oh, no. He was not playing this game. Not today. “Move your foot.”

Youngjae, instead, bent down to grab the beanie himself.

The rapper took this chance to strike, seizing Youngjae’s arm and tugging, making the younger boy tumble to his , now on the same level as Yoongi again as far as height was concerned. Letting out a sound of discomfort, Youngjae was about to retaliate when he noticed Yoongi already shaking his beanie out – as if he had contaminated it or gotten it dirty – huffing out a stream of curses that questioned why he was even in this situation right now.

Youngjae climbed to his feet a bit too fast, catching up to the other in no time. They walked side by side for a small distance before Yoongi even paused enough to notice, his eyes nearly popping from his skull in complete and utter disbelief.

Who was this guy?

He knew who he was, but honestly? All that oozing charisma and happy-go-lucky charm he reeked of was pissing him off as of two minutes ago. It was decided that he was, indeed, annoying as hell. It was also decided that he was two seconds away from knocking the other out. He had never actually fought in his life, but don’t remind him. With his level of done being this high today, he felt like he could take on a champion fighter and win with a KO within the first two minutes.

Pushing his tongue hard against the back of his teeth, the rapper jolted to a stop and turned to face the other. If it had been anyone else, they might have backed off – left – reacted like a normal person who was afraid of getting knocked off their feet. Youngjae just paused with him, brows lifting in a sort of curious manner that just made Yoongi’s blood boil.

“I said I’m fine.”

Without hesitation, Youngjae nodded his head in acknowledgement before flicking his head towards the exit in front of them that would lead to the campus grounds. “And I said you wouldn’t know if you were fine or not. Humor me, once, will you? At least go to the nurse and make sure you’re—“

“Unbelievable.” Yoongi rolled his eyes so hard that he could have sworn he’d given himself a headache and pushed the other away with the palm of his hand, storming off towards the doors. “Why would I humor you when you’re the one who is bothering me?”

“Because I’m sorry.”

His immediate train of thought encouraged him to retort with something like, ‘you better be sorry’ but he found some ounce of restraint and gripped his coat lapels as they were his sanity and he was having a hard time holding onto it. For a second, they both stood there like that. Yoongi’s back to Youngjae and Youngjae’s eyes on the other, trying to calculate what he was going to do.

“You’re sorry?” The tone in his voice had softened immeasurably and Youngjae’s nose scrunched up, curious but cautious as he always seemed to be around the other. “Sorry for kicking me down like the reckless ing — you’re sorry?” The word was exaggerated this time, his voice still soft. Truth be told, he’d rather hear him yell again.

This, whatever this was, was twice as scary.

After deliberation, Youngjae resorted to staying quiet and nodding his head a bit enthusiastically to confirm the other’s words. Yoongi’s fingers released his hold on his coat and instead pushed up against his forehead, the pads of his pointer finger and thumb rubbing against his skull slowly.

Slinging his bag up higher on his shoulder, the light haired rapper puffed out his cheeks. If he didn’t say what he was about to say, his life would be so much better. He could go home and work on his piece and not be bothered any longer with this… whatever this was… until Monday.

Alas, his mouth had a mind of its own.

“What time does her office close?”

Now was not the time for a victory in their little game, but Yoongi counted the rose colored stain on the other’s face as a miniscule step forward into his day becoming better. Before he had time to change his mind, he was being pushed along to the nurse’s office for a check-up he really didn’t need – even if Youngjae fought him on it.

Fifteen minutes later and they trudged into the office, leaving their light snow-dusted shoes at the door. It didn’t take Youngjae long to get the nurse’s attention, seeing as she wasn’t seeing anyone (Yoongi wanted to tell him he was not about to be the reason she became busy, yet here they were) and he was escorted to the examination room.

The crinkled paper under his was about to be added to the list of reasons he needed to get the hell out of dodge – he absolutely hated the sound it made and he would absolutely blame it on the annoying sound of crinkle paper and not his fear of hospitals in general.

His feet were locked at the ankles, hands curled in his lap.

Youngjae was sitting near the door, phone out, though his eyes were on Yoongi way more often than he was aware of. The rapper was not paying attention, though, and was semi-startled when a short, petite woman all but skipped in to meet them. She had left to collect her clipboard from her desk and this was the first time Yoongi was seeing her face to face.

She looked like another Youngjae type – someone who could vomit rainbows. He guessed she needed to be a happy person to deal with others who were sick all day, but, he could only handle one of those in his immediate vicinity without going insane. “What exactly happened, again?”

Strange, seeing as Yoongi hadn’t told her what the problem was. He glanced towards Youngjae, whose eyes were conveniently now glued to his phone screen even though his face was still ablaze. The blonde haired boy grumbled before looking back to the nurse, moving to remove his coat as he explained that he had clumsily fallen back into the doors in the lecture hall.

There was a tiny noise from the other side of the room, akin to a squeak, and Yoongi concealed the tiniest beginning of a smile before he let the other off the hook that easy.

“It looks like the worst of it got your back, Min Yoongi. I suspect there’s no serious damage. Just soreness, maybe light bruising,” her fingers felt around his sides, the latex gloves freezing, causing him to shiver. “As long as you can manage that, you should be fine. If you have any heating pads or even Aleve, you should be just fine.” The nurse tugged his shirt down with the rapper’s help, grabbing a small flashlight to test his pupils for any signs of a concussion.

Meanwhile, Youngjae’s eyes had roamed from his phone screen to the likes of Yoongi, whose tummy was exposed to him for too long. If he’d thought the other’s teasing and yelling could cause his cheeks to light up, he was in a whole new war with his reactions by seeing his bare skin. The fact he even cared – this was starting to really bother him.

Getting the all clear gave Yoongi some kind of complex because his face contorted into that smug number he wore after dinner that one night – Youngjae seemed to forget the flustering stain on his cheeks as soon as the rapper shot him a look that just screamed ‘I told you so.’ Signing the chart for patient visits, Yoongi thanked the woman for her time and brushed past Youngjae as he came out of the room, causing the other to roll his eyes.

Once outside, the two stood at the shuttle stop in familiar silence, each catching the other watching them but not being quick enough to really catch them, winding up playing a game of lost opportunity to nag on Yoongi’s part. The sound of the shuttle stirred the pair of them to life, Youngjae straightening up while the rapper continued slouching, favoring one leg over the other with a less than impressed expression (his usual, really) plastered like natural on his face.

The shuttle only sat a few people and the open seats left happened to be side by side. Oh, sweet misery. Yoongi entered first this time, picking the seat on the left because he could watch the shops fly by and pay absolutely NO attention to the other for the rest of the time they had to spend together.

Once they pulled away from the campus, Yoongi pressed his forehead against the cold window, Youngjae pressing the side of his face against the opposite one as well. It went like that until the darker haired boy was dropped off at his stop, the silence between the two growing more tiresome than blissful. At least he had the weekend to forget.

As he stepped down the first stair, Yoongi’s eyes shifted to catch Youngjae’s and the rapper was thankful the top of the seat before him hid from his nose down. A smile wormed its way onto his face without him knowing as their eye contact nearly caused Youngjae to miss his second step off the vehicle.

Watching the other collect himself through the foggy, ice stained window, Yoongi thought that, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all.

Annoying and pushy as hell, definitely, but not entirely awful.

Youngjae was only thinking he needed a drink and that he needed to stop thinking about Yoongi and his bare skin at all costs.