Flipping his phone over after setting it to silent, Yoongi rolls over and pulls the covers over his head and goes to sleep.

ing Jeon Jungkook.

Five hours later, when Yoongi wakes up feeling drowsy and somewhat irritable, he instantly blames Jeon Jungkook for his state of being. Yes, he could have turned off his phone or ignored the notifications, but that’s not Yoongi’s style. As grumpy and don’t give a as his persona may seem, to Min Yoongi, friendship is the most important. Jungkook (despite being an annoying brat) is family, and Yoongi’s not one to take family or friends who are like family for granted.

Having lost his mother at a young age, and having ‘not the best relationship with his father,’ Yoongi’s learned to cherish the people in his world because you never know when it will be the last time you see them. Rolling over, he reaches out, picking up his phone from the nightstand; the time reads 8:30, and Yoongi grunts in discontent. He contemplates calling Jungkook over and over again until he answers, then hanging up, knowing that the young man is most likely asleep. Jungkook hates morning. The younger man and waking up are not friends. They’re more like frienemies; they need each other but don’t like each other.

Yoongi decides to cut Jungkook some slack, knowing his friend was probably drunk. Drunk texting is an epidemic with the younger man; it’s the only explanation for Jungkook’s before the sunrise text-erenade of Thunder. Sitting up, he runs a wayward hand through his already messy locks and remembers he needs a haircut.

The tile is cold and unforgiving when his feet touch down. He quickly finds his slippers and slides his feet in before standing to his feet. Walking to the bathroom, Yoongi makes a mental checklist of his plans for the day. Forty-five minutes later, pee, brush teeth, shower, and get dressed have all been crossed off the to-do-list. Sitting at the table with a now soggy bowl of cereal before him, Yoongi rehearses his conversation with Jimin while silently cursing himself for making the call yesterday.

Yoongi’s not one for confrontation. He’s not a masochist in any way, but he honestly believes he owes Jimin an explanation and a proper goodbye. Well, maybe not goodbye; they work together and all. Sighing, he sticks a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and contemplates the right words as he chews. His phone buzzes to life, vibrating against the table and jolting him from his thoughts. Looking at the screen he grimaces, he doesn’t want to answer.

“Nae, Aboji,” he answers quietly.

“Yoongi,” his father says the name as though he’s surprised. “Ahh, I must have mis-dialed. How are you, son?” He sounds drunk, and Yoongi makes a fist against the table.

“I’m fine.”

He’s not. He never is when his father calls, the man has the magical ability to turn Yoongi’s happy moments to . It wasn’t always this way; his father used to be his hero, the standard by which Yoongi judged every other man. However, something happened after Yoongi’s mother died. It’s almost as if his father had left with her.

“Good. Good,” the man responds as though on auto-pilot.

“Did you need something, Appa?”

“No, no, I-I just, well, I’m happy to hear you voice, son.”

Yoongi inhales, fighting back the tears. It hurts to hear the pain in his father’s voice and to know he put it there, but his father is the reason for the distance. He caused the rift, and Yoongi doesn’t know how to mend the torn edges.

“It’s good to hear your voice too, Aboji,” he means the statement.

“Well, I’m going to go. I have a meeting. W-we should have dinner sometime and catch up,” the man stutters over the words. “I miss you son.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies to quickly, stunned by the sudden declaration. “We should. I miss you, too.”

His father never responds, and Yoongi knows why. They’re the same, he and his father. Neither of them are good with emotions. The phone disconnects, but he stares at the screen for a bit longer before placing the phone back on the table, face down, and sticking another spoonful of soggy cereal in his mouth. He's startled when, moments later, his phone jumps on the table, buzzing with life, and he flips it over to see who it is.

Yoongi swipes the screen with lightning speed, nearly dropping the cell in the process.

Taehyung texted first. That has to mean something, right? Yoongi’s heart beats against his chest, his mind is blank, and he can’t think of a response. His fingers are perched against the keyboard, waiting for words to enter his brain. He types out the first thing that pops into his mind and regrets it as soon as he hits send.

He’s laughing; he can’t help himself. Yoongi now knows, after spending time with the younger man, that random statements are Taehyung’s defense mechanism. When the boy is nervous or uncomfortable, he says whatever comes to his mind, no matter how irrelevant it is to the conversation or situation. He should find the habit annoying, but, though he’ll never admit it out loud, he likes it.

He’s not sure how to move the conversation to what he wants to know, which is, where does he stand with Taehyung? Was the kiss a fluke, a mistake? Does Taehyung want to kiss him again?

And there it is, an opening. It's not exactly the door to the let’s-talk-about-us conversation that Yoongi was hoping for, but still, he can’t complain. He’ll take it.

“Hello, are you okay, hyung? Why’d you have a bad call? Can I help? Why do you want to hear my voice?” Taehyung rapid-fires questions. The last one causes Taehyung’s voice to waver, and Yoongi feels it in his chest. He wants Taehyung to be confident, wants the younger man to know that what happened between them wasn’t a fluke or an accident.

“I-I l-like you, and your voice makes me feel better, I guess.” Yoongi’s heart is beating so hard in his chest he’s sure it’s going to break through and fall to the ground.

“M-my voice? Y-y-you like me? I-I like you too, hyung, so much.”

It’s all Yoongi needs to hear. Pushing the soggy cereal away, he takes a deep breath and switches the phone to his other ear.

“Taehyung, are you busy? Want to go get breakfast with me?” Yoongi closes his eyes as he asks the questions, knowing the man will say yes but still nervous he may say no.

“Really, hyung? Really?” Yoongi swears he can see Taehyung’s boxy grin and smiling eyes on the other end of the line. “Minnie went to work early today, and we didn’t have breakfast. I’m so hungry, and I haven’t eaten well since, since, uhm-