No Strings Attached | Min Yoongi x OC

4 ♡

"Where?" she finally says.

"Anywhere," I answer, "but not a studio. Just... somewhere we don't have to pretend."

Another pause, then: "There's a park near the river. Less people this time of day."

"I'll be there."

~

The park is half-empty, sunlight drifting through the trees. She's sitting on a bench, sunglasses, hair loose, a paper cup of coffee in her hands. When she sees me, she doesn't smile exactly, but something in her face softens.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey."

I sit beside her, a careful distance. The breeze smells like rain and cut grass. For a minute we just watch the water.

"You've been quiet," she says.

"So have you."

"Because that's easier."

"Doesn't feel easier."

She studies her coffee lid. "What do you want from me, Yoongi?"

I think about lying again, about saying nothing or I don't know.
Instead, I tell the truth in the smallest way I can.

"I want the quiet to stop feeling empty."

She doesn't look at me, but her shoulders relax, just a little. "That's not something I can promise."

"I know."

We sit there a while longer, not touching, not moving, just breathing the same air. The distance is still there, but it's different now - something acknowledged instead of ignored.

When she finally stands to leave, she hesitates. "You could've just texted," she says, voice almost teasing.

"I've been trying," I admit. "It didn't work."

That earns a small smile, real and tired and beautiful. "Then maybe this is a start."

She walks away first, and I let her, because I can feel something shifting under my ribs, slow, inevitable, the start of whatever comes next.

~

The apartment is too quiet again.

I've been pacing for an hour, replaying the sound of her voice, the way she said maybe this is a start.

It's almost midnight when I finally give up pretending I'm not going to call.

The line rings twice before she answers.
Her voice is lower now, rough with sleep or exhaustion. "You're getting clingy, you know that?"

It makes me smile, a small, involuntary thing. "You still pick up."

A beat of silence. I can almost see the way her lips curve when she exhales through a laugh she doesn't mean to let out. "Touché. What do you want, Yoongi?"

I lean against the counter, watching the city through the window. "Honestly?"

"Always."

"I don't know how to go back to pretending."

Another pause. This one stretches, soft and fragile. I can hear her shift on the other end; the sound of fabric, the rustle of her sleeve brushing the phone.

"That's not fair," she says quietly. "You're the one who taught me how to keep it simple."

"I know."

"So why are you changing the rules now?"