"How do you say the thing you want to say? The emotion you want to show?"
"How do you talk to the person you're feeling it for?"
"Rhea," Yoongi's voice pulled me back to the present. We sat side by side on a quiet bench overlooking the Han River, sharing coffee under Korea's glimmering night sky.
"Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. "Got lost in my own head."
"You haven't said a word since we left the studio," he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching. "What's going on?"
I took another sip of my coffee, stalling. "I just… don't know how to say it. I feel embarrassed."
Yoongi chuckled. "Embarrassed? Because of that night?"
I nodded slightly, gaze fixed on the river. "I meant what I said. I don't want to cause trouble—for you or anyone else. I'm good like this." I motioned to the space between us, exaggerated by how far apart we sat on the bench.
He clicked his tongue. "I'm not forcing you into anything… am I?"
I scoffed. "No, you're not. That's not it…"
"Then what is it?" he pressed, leaning in just slightly, narrowing the distance between us. The sudden proximity sent my heart into a quiet frenzy. I turned away, inhaling deeply to calm it.
"You're the only one who stays—who shows up—even when I push you away," I said quietly. "You always come at the worst possible time and somehow… at the perfect one too. It's messing with me. I just want us to stay friends."
Yoongi cleared his throat and leaned back, reclaiming his side of the bench. "Don't flatter yourself, shorty. I'm not courting you," he said dryly. "I just like having someone sane to talk to."
His words hit harder than they should've. Isn't this what I wanted? So why did it feel like getting dumped?
He added with a smirk, "Plus, if we got married a million times, I'd divorce you a million and one."
I smacked his arm. "You're so mean!"
"You're the mean one," he argued, rubbing his shoulder dramatically. "Hitting me like your hands aren't made of bricks. What if I dislocate my shoulder?"
I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, "A man-made marshmallow."
He grinned. "Get a grip, shorty. When I'm off to Hong Kong, you're gonna miss me like crazy."
"In your dreams," I fired back. "I got used to your absence after a month of radio silence."
He laughed, loud and full, the kind of laugh that shakes his shoulders. It was the kind of laugh that stays with you—warm, familiar, and rare.
"You told me to stay away, remember?" he said, nudging my knee. "Why is it women say what they mean, but when men actually do it, you all get mad?"
I didn't respond. I stood and threw my empty coffee cup into the trash. "Want to grab a drink?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I've got practice tomorrow—but if you're buying, I might be persuaded. Just… don't throw up in my car again."
I gave him a look. "We're drinking beer. I won't puke this time. And even if I do, I'll clean it up. I just want some sotteok-sotteok and fish cakes."
"You read my mind," he said, standing up. "Might even consider marrying you again for that."
"You might as well be saying I'll wear pink," I teased, hiding my flustered smile behind the wind brushing my cheeks.
As we walked toward his car, I let myself enjoy the moment. It was nice—being with him again. Talking like this.
"When you're in Hong Kong," I said, "buy me a fridge magnet."
"A what?" he chuckled.
His laughter sounded like a melody slightly out of tune—but perfect to my ears. His shoulders shook as he laughed, and I realized I wanted to be the reason he laughed like that for a long time.
"A fridge magnet," I repeated.
He opened the passenger door for me. "Okay. And what do I get in return?"
I slid into the seat and grinned, "You get to see me when I come pick it up."
He shook his head, smiling as he walked around the car. Just as he passed the front, I honked the horn. He jumped and screamed, making me laugh so hard I nearly cried.
***
After their electrifying performance at MAMA and the stunning Daesang win, Yoongi called Rhea the moment he got back to his hotel room.
"You did it! I can't believe it! You won!" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Congratulations!"
"Did you cry, shorty?" he asked smugly.
She scoffed. "You cried on national TV first!"
"That's… something I never want to talk about again."
"Why? Did the guys tease you?"
Her giggle on the other end made his heart ache a little. It reminded him of wind chimes on a quiet day—just like the first time they shared dinner at that restaurant he spent hours finding.
"I got your fridge magnet," he said, suddenly changing the subject.
"Oh? And who did you get to buy it?" she teased.
"I went out and bought it myself," he said flatly.
She went silent. Why would he risk going out, even briefly, when he could've asked someone else? It was just a fridge magnet.
"A simple thank you would be enough," he added.
"You should rest. We can talk tomorrow," she said, biting her nail in guilt.
There was a pause before he answered softly, "Yeah. You're right."
The line went dead.
She stared at the screen, a sinking feeling blooming in her chest. Why did it feel like she'd done something wrong?
She scrolled to her contacts and called Selena.
"Hey!" Selena answered immediately. "Just got off the phone with Jin. What's up?"
Rhea hesitated. "I… I need your advice." She told her everything—every word, every tone, every silence.
"Aww, poor Yoongi," Selena sighed. "The guy clearly likes you. And you keep rejecting him every time he opens a door."
"What? No—he's just teasing me."
"Rhea," Selena said flatly. "I saw how he looks at you. And who was the first person he called after they won their Daesang? You. And he bought you a magnet himself. That man is down bad."
Rhea's heart tightened. "We agreed we were just friends."
"Then think hard before you say something you'll regret," Selena said. "Oop—Jin's calling again. Night, Rhea!"
Click.
And in the silence that followed, Rhea realized something bitter. She owed Yoongi an apology. He'd been patient, kind—even when she refused to see it. And all she did was turn a blind eye.
***
Yoongi arrived in Korea, drained from the trip. He barely spoke during the flight and just wanted to crash in bed. He climbed into the van with Jimin and Jin, collapsing into the seat behind the driver, eyes closed, music in his ears.
"Hyung," Jimin nudged him.
"Not now, Jimin. I'm tired."
"But you'll want to see this."
Yoongi opened one eye. "What?"
Jimin nodded to the window.
Outside, weaving through the early evening traffic, was a familiar motorbike. But what caught Yoongi's attention wasn't the bike—it was the rider.
The woman on the bike wore a bright pink sweatshirt, hugging black jeans, and a sleek black helmet. The color was ridiculous—especially for someone who always insisted she hated pink.
As the light turned red, she slowed down and pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, holding it up just long enough for him to read.
"Welcome home, Rhea's Sugar."
Yoongi blinked, stunned.
Jin cackled in the back seat. "Did she just call you sugar?"
Jimin whistled low. "Hyung's gonna cry again."
But Yoongi just smiled—small, rare, and full of something unspoken. He didn't say a word.
Because in that moment, he didn't need to.