doing fine - blindsided ch. 2
genre: angst, idol au, breakup au, fluff
pairing: ex boyfriend!namjoon x reader, platonic yoongi x reader
word count: 1.4k
summary: having yoongi back in your life helps you get back to some semblance of normalcy.
a/n: hi y’all :) senior year of college is a trip. guess who started therapy?!? anyways, i have a research proposal and a rough draft due tomorrow that i haven’t started, but this fic was calling my name lol. unedited bc i was so eager to get it out to you guys lolol. as always, please enjoy and let me know what you think!
taglist: @4evahevah @ayatie97 <3<3
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“I don’t get it.” You sigh. Your friends are right, this is ridiculous.
“I mean, it’s not like we were married or had a kid. Why can’t I get over him?” You groan as you roll over in bed, throwing a pillow over your head.
“You’re mourning, Y/N. You’ve gotta go at your own pace.” Yoongi tries. He watches as your shoulders relax but your hands stay curled in tight fists.
“Nobody died.” You grumble.
The pillow slides from your face to your chest and you cling to it like a child does a teddy bear. The crease Yoongi often feels on his own face has transferred to yours, making a home between your brows, and you’ve stolen his signature pout as well. The scene in front of him is a far cry from the noisy, outgoing, vivacious person he knew just a year ago.
It feels like you did, he wants to say. Physically, you’re right in front of him, very much alive, but you’re nothing like you used to be. This you is a shell of the Y/N he knows.
“I’ve mourned every coffee that Jungkook spilled before rehearsal.” He says.
That gets a laugh out of you, breaking your face out of its despondent mold.
Picking at the pillow’s tassels, you ask,“He spilled multiple coffees?” A giggle trickling into your words as you look at him.
“Yep, even after he promised he’d be ‘extra careful, hyung’, little brat even pinky swore.” He emphasizes Jungkook’s alleged promise, holding up his own pinky.
“Why did you keep bringing coffee around him if you knew he would spill it?” You chuckle.
He huffs out a laugh and shrugs. “I take my pinky swears very seriously, Y/N. The kid gave me his word and I foolishly trusted it.” He shakes his head. A wistful look takes over his face as he pretends to gaze into the distance. “So many delicious americanos…wasted.”
“You’re so dramatic.” You reply, turning back onto your side.
Yoongi takes a moment to look at you. You’ve changed out of the crewneck from last night, opting for a t-shirt from your alma mater and a pair of leggings. At his insistence, a tall glass of ice water sits on your bedside table. He’d even grabbed a coaster and fashioned the drink with a straw to encourage you to drink it. Hydration is key, he’d told you.
The two of you had made some progress in cleaning up your apartment, starting with gathering up the take-out boxes and various wrappers dirtying your space. Once that was done, the piled-up dishes were loaded into the washer. Yoongi had even volunteered to take your clothes down to the washing machines in the basement despite laundry being his least favorite chore. With every flame of embarrassment that lit up your cheeks, he brushed any discomfort off. He was sad for you, yes. But he knew the old you was still in there, waiting to be brought back to life.
“I think I might try to text one of my old friends, maybe see if she’s in town,” you posed, curious for his opinion.
Yoongi hesitated, turning his answer over in his mouth. On the one hand, he was pissed at your “friends” for abandoning you in this state. On the other, he supported anything that got you back to normal.
“That sounds great,” He finally worked out, hoping that having your back turned meant you didn’t hear the slight unease in his voice.
You don’t notice. You simply roll back over and grab your drink, taking a nice long gulp from it. Exhaling, you look around the room before stopping on him. He’s still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair slightly messy from not being brushed. Waves of guilt begin licking at you again, knowing you’ve taken time from his break.
“Why don’t you, um, head back and get changed? I know you’ve got to be ready to get out of those clothes.” You ask, looking down at the floor.
That crease works itself in between his brows again, coupled with a quirk in his lip. He is desperate for a hot shower, but he doesn’t want to leave you. Sensing his reluctance, you double down on your suggestion.
“Really, I’ll be fine. You earned this break, Yoongi, please,” you insist, meeting his eyes again.
While he’s not entirely thrilled with the idea, he agrees, telling you that he’ll be back in a couple of hours. Once the door shuts behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The release in your shoulders has tears gathering in your eyes. Not only did you not deserve Yoongi, but you’d been humiliated by having him see the state of your apartment, your life. Never before had you been this messy, this disgusting. And yet, he’d acted like it was nothing more than a minor spill of some water, just something to be cleaned up in a minute or so. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the timer to see how long your clothes had left in the wash.
15:21.
Fifteen minutes left in the wash. A few hours until Yoongi got back. A million things that still needed to be done. Glancing at your bed, you tried to think back to the last time you’d changed the sheets. Hm. Nothing. You were drawing a blank.
“Wow. That is very cool and sexy of you to have nasty-ass sheets, y/n.” You laughed at yourself.
So, you decided you would start there. After fetching new sheets from the closet, you figured you would make the bed while you were at it, regardless of if it was the middle of the day. After adding the old sheets to the laundry basket, you looked around at your room. A small burst of energy hit you and little by little, you worked through your entire room. Two trash bags and a pile of to-be donated clothes later, Yoongi was knocking on your door. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you dropped the bags next to the couch.
“One sec, Yoongs!” You called. Has it been that long? Sure enough, the time on the stove confirmed at least two hours had passed.
“Aw, fuck, my laundry!” You shouted, scurrying to the door.
You could hear Yoongi laughing as you opened the door, seeing a duffle in one of his hands and take-out in the other. Hearing your panic, he stepped to the side to let you run downstairs.
“I’ll be right back!” You called over your shoulder.
Yoongi just shook his head as he stepped past the threshold. Noticing the trash bags and pile of clothes, he wondered what you had gotten up to while he was out. He set his bag on the bar stool while he opened the dinner he’d grabbed for the two of you. He certainly didn’t feel like cooking, especially after the state of your fridge had made him shudder, which quickly earned him a jab to the rib from you.
“Whew! Okay, laundry is safely in the dryer,” you sighed, closing the door behind you. You stop at the smell of ramen and take notice of Yoongi standing at the counter. His hair has that fluffy quality to it again, along with a gentle sheen across his cheeks from the light. He looks refreshed, and completely out of place in your home. Swallowing your self-consciousness, you go to ask how it was at the dorms, but he stops you before you can get the words out.
“What’s in the bags?” He asks, reading over the slips to make sure your orders are correct.
“Oh, I, um, cleaned my room. And I went through some of my old clothes,” you explain.
He blinks in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a soft smile. He’s proud.
“Great. We’ll take the trash down after dinner, and I can run your clothes to a Goodwill or something tomorrow,” he offers.
You nod, clearing a space at the bar for the two of you to eat. As you start to dig in, you ask about traveling and the tour. As the ramen warms your stomach, Yoongi’s stories entertain you until it’s time to clean up. You keep prodding him for more details, listening intently as you fold your freshly dried laundry. As he talks, you realize it’s the first time you’ve seen some of these clothes in months. You try to blink away the tears gathering in your eyes, your heart swelling with gratefulness for the man sitting in front of you.
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