Two

That night, when he’s warm and comfortable nestled into his bed with all the lights off, Yoongi lets himself have a selfish moment. Phone nearly blinding him despite being on the lowest brightness setting, he taps in the same URL he’d locked away earlier.

Filteredradiance...what kind of Tumblr bull.

The time glares at him from the top of his screen, nearing 3 am, so he makes quick work of scrolling down the excessively pink webpage to find the same post.

The profile picture, in all it’s pixelated glory, stares judgingly as Yoongi confirms that he had read correctly – Music Composition, in clean hangul across the top of the (pink – always pink) notebook.

Even if the title is in Korean, the comments on the post from the blogger are in English – so Yoongi doesn’t let his hopes get too high.

Still – music composition? Yoongi’s curiosity is piqued. In the dead of the night, with no one to stop him, Yoongi convinces himself that this is a good idea.

Yoongi uses music as a crutch, he’s well aware of that. In the moments after his finger hits the send button, the feeling of why the would I do that is overwhelming and held back only by a soundtrack louder than the thoughts in his head.

And yet, he doesn’t even make it through a single song before a chime cuts in, notifying him that hey, that bad decision you made has been seen and responded to by another human being!

At nearly 3 in the morning, Yoongi decides that there’s no feasible way this blurry man is a Korean living in Korea. What kind of weirdo – Yoongi aside – stays up until the witching hour to respond to anonymous questions in perfect English?

Yoongi copy-pastes the text into the translator still open on his browser, and his heart sinks.

Yoongi’s not sure why he’s disappointed that some dude halfway across the world doesn’t also study Yoongi’s passion – by all rights, he shouldn’t even care enough to be doing this at all.

And yet, his interest only grows.

‘He is actually writing me a song for me to dance to in my assessment at the end of the semester!’

Yoongi bites his lip and locks his phone, setting it on the cabinet beside his bed. That face is burned into his mind, what little of it he can discern from the data available, and it leers at him in the darkness.

What would it be like to write for him...

Yoongi rolls over to face the wall, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even know him,” he whispers out loud, almost chuckling at how dumb this all was. Go to sleep before you do something stupid again, he adds mentally, closing his eyes.

Yoongi’s so glad he doesn’t have a real job yet. He makes quick cash on the internet writing jingles for advertisements but has no real commitment to waking up at any set hour without a ‘daily grind’ style career.

Unfortunately, that means the thing that does wake him up is the sound of Namjoon causing chaos somewhere in their shared apartment. Yoongi groans, pushing his palm against his head and rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleepy haze.

The apartment falls silent, so Yoongi assumes that Namjoon’s either got it under control or has died – which makes it entirely not Yoongi’s problem anymore. He flips over to grab his phone, wincing when the first thing to pop up upon unlocking is that cursed pink study blog.

Yoongi doesn’t know why he hesitates. He has no reason to care about this stranger on the internet and his dumb pink aesthetic studies that put Yoongi’s degree to shame. He blindly scrolls, unable to find any other photos of the guy on his blog – so he can’t blame his interest on his poor little gay heart – and everything he does find is in English.

It’s a hopeless venture, imagining that this possibly-Asian looking dude is Korean – a real lost cause. Yoongi barely speaks coherent Korean, his native-ing-language, let alone this foreign tongue.

Nope, Yoongi decides, swiping away from the blog. We’re not doing this.

He does manage to hit Follow on his way out though, but refuses to acknowledge that fact just yet.

He’s already on the Tumblr homepage, and closing the app seems like way too much effort this early in the morni- afternoon. Yoongi doesn’t bother with keeping his blog up-to-date at all, reflected in his rock-bottom follower count and the hideous attempt at curating a dashboard feed. Still, it doesn’t hurt to scroll for a bit.

He even ends up finding a few things to reblog before he’s hauling himself out of bed to get ready for another day. It’s not that weird, he tells himself.

It’s not weird, he repeats, settling back into bed and beginning the same routine he’d developed over the last few days. I just like the vibe.

Which is a total lie, but the pink theme is growing on Yoongi and he can’t stop himself from checking for updates before he scrolls looking for more content for his suddenly-revitalised blog. He’s even put notifications on for Christ’s sake – which has only served to ruin Yoongi’s well-being even more.

Turns out, this study blogging dude only updates his blog in the middle of the Korean night. Which is fine, cool, totally okay and definitely not killing Yoongi at all. He’s on a North American schedule (Yoongi searched it) and Yoongi’s definitely not.

But....why do I care? he asks himself, tapping on another music post to reblog.