“Come on over,” Yoongi’s smooth voice said over the phone. It was late afternoon and you were currently stooped over your dining table that was covered with textbooks and papers, with your head in your hands. You chose this specific spot because your circular, glass dining table was the biggest raised surface in your whole house. You would’ve chosen to work on the floor, but with the weather cooling down and your hardwood floors, you figured you weren’t up for working on the freezing ground. Your phone was on speaker. His voice filled the empty void that was your house. You lived in a small loft fit for one person; it was basically a box with stairs leading up to a balcony that held your bed. “I don’t know, Yoongi. This upcoming test is so important. It’s probably going to determine my future career and the rest of my life!” You threw your arms in the air, staring intensely at your phone. You were being so extra. No one could see you and you were still being overly dramatic.

“Jagi, I know, but you need to loosen up a bit. You have a few more weeks left though,” he reminded, his voice keeping steady. He was always patient with you. You sighed. You were getting more and more tense as that test approached. You got up to pace around your kitchen. Mindlessly checking your fridge, you shouted, “ Have you eaten yet?” From your dining table, you heard a quiet “no”. You didn’t know why you bothered checking your fridge. It wasn’t like there was anything edible in there.

About an hour later, you were carrying a bag of cheeseburgers into the Big Hit Entertainment building along with your backpack full of all of your schoolwork. Yoongi requested for one of the managers to open the door for you. “Wow, Yoongi is a lucky man. He’s dating a woman who’s willing to bring him food..” the manager teased as he walked away, ruffling the back of his hair. You shot him a bright smile. Poor guy. He was still stuck at work and you wondered what time he usually went home. You took the elevator up to the correct floor and when the door opened, you bumped into V.

“Ahh!” he shouted, recognizing you. “What are you doing here? Well, I know why. Yoongi hyung!” He happily swung an arm over your shoulder and began to walk with you. He was smiling so wide, his mouth squared off, eyes crinkled. Before you could reply properly, only managing to get in a few surprised stammers, Yoongi opened the door to his studio, grabbed your hand, and pulled you in. Right before he slammed the door shut, he quipped, “ Go home, Taehyung.” You plopped down onto the long, black sofa that was perpendicular to the workstation and started setting up all of your work again on the coffee table. Yoongi took his seat in front of the workstation and swiveled his chair around to look at you. His face was completely free of makeup and he was wearing his comfy clothes: ripped jeans, a black hoodie, and a beanie.

“I see you have something for me,” he said, rubbing his hands together and his lips. You chuckled, flashing him an eye smile. You threw the bag of food onto the coffee table and he rolled his chair over to grab it. “Ahhh yessss.” He pulled out two cheeseburgers and rolled back to his spot. You pulled out your laptop out of your backpack, situating yourself right in the corner of where the arm met the back of the sofa. Between chews, Yoongi mumbled, “Thanks, jagi. Very much appreciated.” You returned his thanks with a cheeky smile as you started eating your dinner, too.

Working on your homework in the Big Hit studio wasn’t that much different from working at home. However, you felt comforted by your boyfriend’s presence. In fact, doing homework in his studio was even quieter than working at home. You tended to take study breaks often, breaking into song or dance to whatever music you were currently listening to. You weren’t planning on looking like a fool in front of Yoongi, even if he did encourage such behavior. He sat silently at his desk, rapidly scrawling lyrics on his paper to the backtrack he was playing. Your ears perked up to listen to his work; it was definitely a work in progress, but you were glad that Yoongi had a new project to keep busy with. The finished editions were always pure gold. The only sounds in the room were the typing of your keyboard, the bass bumping quietly, and the scribbling of his pen. Once in awhile, you peeked up from your papers to look at Yoongi. He was slouched into his chair, his eyes glued to his notebook, and even as he exhaustedly yawned without covering his mouth, you found him incredibly handsome; Yoongi seemed to always be the most handsome when he was focused and serious. Around midnight, you were abruptly interrupted by a worn down looking Yoongi slamming your laptop shut. “That’s enough for you today,” he said softly. You blinked blankly at him. “I usually stay up later, but since you’re here, I’ll stop early.”

“But why?” you asked, being tugged up by the arms by him off of the sofa. You stood up off-balanced, bumping into his chest. He ended up hugging you tightly around the waist. You rested your cheek on his shoulder. “I’m tired. You’re tired. There’s no point in putting in more work if your brain isn’t functioning properly,” he reasoned, “We should get some sleep. I’d say we could go back to the dorm, but…” he trailed off. He looked worried, but you knew it was because of the fans, or maybe he was afraid of the other guys ing on you.

“I could drive home now,” you started, but he cut you off.

“It’s late. How about we just stay here? I can lock the door. We could just wash up in the restroom or something?” He started laughing at the ridiculousness of his own words, shooting you a guilty look for dragging you into this mess of a sleeping arrangement. You nodded in agreement with him anyway. Immediately, you started to clean up the table. All of the napkins and wrappers went into the big bag that everything originally came in and the bag went into the trash bin. While you cleaned, Yoongi went to the back of the room where all of the shelves were, and miraculously, brought out a set of clothes.

“I have a t-shirt and basketball shorts.” After you shot him a questioning look, he continued saying, “I sleep here a lot, so I always have to be prepared, you know?” He chuckled awkwardly and placed the clothes down on the table.

“Yoongi, you need to go home and sleep early more regularly,” you said. Your eyebrows scrunched together and he frowned slightly, knowing you were right.

“I know, jagi, but most of the time I don’t even know what time it is.” He grabbed your hand and placed a brand new toothbrush in it. “Go get ready for bed. I’ll finish setting up in here.”

As you washed your face, you examined it, and wondered what Yoongi truly thought of your bare face since you rarely left your house without at least a little bit of makeup on. You pressed your face close to the mirror and skeptically stared at your pores, swiveling your head left and right. Then, backing up, you pulled at the large basketball shorts you were wearing. Though Yoongi was thin, you could tell that he was definitely slightly muscular, or at least bigger than you, since the shorts threatened to fall off if you didn’t secure the waistband tightly. The t-shirt was absolutely massive. Yoongi wasn’t the type to wear tight t-shirts anyway. The shirt hit mid-thigh,  and as you adjusted it around the collar, you contemplated whether or not to just treat it as a dress.

You walked back into the studio to find the sofa draped in a large, fluffy blanket and the cushions that were already there remained. Yoongi was leaning in a fetal position on the arm of the sofa, scrolling through his phone, but when he heard you come in, he looked up and practically grinned from ear to ear. “What happened to the shorts?” he asked, with a slight teasing tone. You decided to get rid of the shorts since they served no true purpose. Luckily, the shirt was an opaque black color so your underwear wasn’t visible through the fabric. He opened his arms wide as you approached him and pulled you into a warm hug.

your cheek, he whispered into your ear, “How can this shirt possibly look better on you than on me?” You looked at him in the eyes feeling shy and he smiled slightly. “You can keep it if you’d like,” he suggested. He definitely wouldn’t have minded seeing you looking like that again and if he had a problem with your bare face, then he never voiced it aloud.

He looked incredibly comfortable, clothed in a dark gray sweatshirt and black sweats. Your laying position reminded you of the way the  two of you would typically cuddle at home, but thankfully, the sofa in the studio was wider than the typical one, allowing the both of you to lay comfortably with enough space in between without the threat of Yoongi falling off.

That didn’t mean that Yoongi was used to sharing the  sofa with you at all; even back home, he ended up on the floor.  He continued to squirm, squishing you into the cushions, the squeaking of the leather sounding like farts. “Are we ever going to fall asleep?” you laughed, as Yoongi tried to pull the blanket over his cold feet. “I’m trying!!” he protested.

Eventually, he began to settle down and the only sounds you hear was the white noise from all of the technology around the room and the movement of your hair rustling with his breath. The thing about sleeping with Yoongi was that it was incredibly relaxing. The sounds of his breathing was constant and it immediately lulled you to sleep, in contrast to when you slept alone, consistently flipping and rolling over for hours.

A few hours later, you tried to stretch out your arms, but quickly realized that you were wrapped up in a blanket burrito, all the way up to your chin. You struggled against the fabric in the dark and eventually, it loosened. There was a small lamp on near the workstation so you glanced over to see Yoongi sitting criss crossed in his chair, hunched over his notebook again. “Mmm, did you sleep at all?” you asked, resting your arms behind the pillow. His head was nodding along to the music that was coming through his headphones; he couldn’t hear you.

“Did you sleep at all?” you repeated louder, sighing and with a huff, chucked a pillow in his direction. He quickly yanked his headphones off of his head, scanned his surroundings, and when he saw that you were awake, he shook his head slowly, but then he put his finger to his lips. I’m working, his eyes told you, eyebrows furrowed. He looked concerned, though, suggesting, “Jagiya, go back to sleep.” He should follow his own advice.

By then, your eyes threatened to close and you gave in to the temptation. “Okay, but if you’re not next to me in the

morning, you’re dead meat, Min Yoongi.” You pointed in his direction and wagged your finger. The last thing you saw was

Yoongi breathing deeply and smiling down at his paper, cheeks flushed.