No Strings Attached | Min Yoongi x OC

5 ♡

For a while, we don't talk. The city noise seeps in through the open window: cars, a bus braking somewhere, a dog barking down the street. It feels like background music to something simpler than either of us has had in a long time.

She sits at the small table, curling one leg under her. "I forgot what mornings feel like when you actually sleep," she says.

"I did too," I admit. "It's different here."

She tilts her head, curious. "Different how?"

"Quieter," I say. "Not the kind that hides things, the kind that lets you breathe."

That earns me a faint smile. "You sound like you're writing lyrics again."

"Maybe I am."

Her laugh softens the space between us. The tension that's been wound tight for weeks begins to ease, replaced by something lighter.

"I can't promise I won't still be difficult," I tell her, honest.

"I don't want promises," she says. "Just honesty. Like this."

I nod. "Then this is a start."

We finish our coffee in companionable silence, the morning sun stretching across the table. For the first time, it feels like we've stopped running, both of us just sitting still long enough to see what might happen when the world isn't asking for anything.

[Eunah's POV]

The coffee's gone cold by the time I glance at the clock.
"Ah—" I breathe out a half-laugh. "I need to get ready for work."

He sets his mug in the sink before I can move. "I can rinse it."
"You really don't have to."
"I know," he says, already running the tap. "Force of habit."

I lean against the doorway, watching him rinse and stack the cup with an odd mix of amusement and disbelief. Min Yoongi, global idol, washing a coffee mug in my sink. The thought almost makes me smile.

"You're collaborating again today?"

He nods, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yeah. Should be finishing the track with Ji-ho this week. We'll probably be at your agency all afternoon."

"Then I'll see you there," I say. A beat passes before I add, "How do we... act? While working, I mean. Still polite professionalism? Clipped responses?"

He looks up, eyes meeting mine across the narrow kitchen. "If that's what you need."

"That's not what I asked," I say quietly.

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. I don't want to go back to pretending. We can keep it professional, but we don't have to erase what happened to do it."

I study him for a moment, weighing that answer. "That's risky," I say at last.

"Maybe," he admits. "But it's honest. I think we've both had enough of the other thing."

The clock ticks between us. I nod slowly, filing the thought away to test later. "Then we try honest."

"Honest," he repeats. The word feels steady between them.

I turn toward the bedroom. "I'll be quick."

I disappear down the hall.

[Yoongi's POV]

I stay where I'm at for a moment longer, listening to the faint sounds of drawers and fabric, the small domestic noises that don't belong in any of their old rooms. I catch myself smiling—just a little—at the simple normalcy of it.