One Song Glory [1/3]
Title: One Song Glory [1/3]
Pairing: Yoongi/Jeongguk
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance.
Word Count: 3'626.
Warnings: (none) (The rating is for a bit of language.)
Disclaimer: While the content of this story is inspired by real events and people, any references made are entirely thought up by the author and in no way reflect actual actions and opinions. Any similarities are coincidence.
Summary: When Yoongi gets a call from a stranger in the middle of the night, he never expected to end up driving him home across half of Seoul.
Notes: Cross-posted on AO3 and tumblr. Inspired by the prompt "accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au" (credit to xaquaangelx on tumblr), but it got away from me. Title from the song by the same name from the musical RENT. This is for xiajin (because I got you hopeful for Sugakookie fic. I didn't mean this one, but I hope it's okay).
(I just... needed to get this out here to give myself some pressure.)
One Song Glory - Part 1
January
The obnoxious ringing of his cell phone jerked Yoongi awake. With a half-coherent curse, he groped around his bedside table until he found it and lifted it to his face. The light from the screen almost blinded him, but squinting, he could vaguely make out Park Jimin.
“What the…”
Park Jimin better have a damn good reason to be calling at 2:30am or Yoongi would strangle him. He swiped his thumb across the screen, squeezed his eyes shut again and raised the phone to his ear. “What do you want?” His voice scratched through his throat uncomfortably.
“Hiii,” someone answered, and from that word alone Yoongi could tell that it wasn’t Jimin and that the guy was shit-faced.
“Why do you have Jimin’s phone? Who are you?”
“Jiminnie-hyung lent it to me,” the other person explained in the self-confident, earnest manner of the drunk, lightly slurring his words. “I wanned to ask you a question.”
Yoongi tossed a hand over his eyes and wondered if he should just hang up. It was way too late for this. He could be sleeping. “Who are you, kid?”
“Jeongguk! Jiminnie’s-Jiminnie-hyung’s friend. Jeongguk,” he repeated.
The name sounded familiar. Jimin had been talking about some college friend named Jeongguk once or twice, or maybe a few times more. He had made it seem like the kid was shitting rainbows and sunshine. To Yoongi it had sounded like Jeongguk was an arrogant little know-it-all brat.
He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “Listen, Jeongguk. I don’t know why you called and I really don’t care. It’s the middle of the fucking night, you’re wasted and you woke me up. You don’t know what you’re doing, so I forgive you and shit, but I’m hanging up now to go back to sleep. Good night.”
Before he could even move the phone from his ear, Jeongguk called, “Wait!”
Against his better judgment, Yoongi stilled. “What now?”
“I wanna ask you some-something. Please?” he added, sounding young and hopeful and not at all arrogant. Yoongi figured that if he could see Jeongguk’s expression, he’d probably look like an expectant, adoring puppy. “Can I?”
He sighed again. “Shoot.”
“Jiminnie-hyung always says that you’re really cool and that you’re a really good hyung and you always help him.”
“How cute,” Yoongi muttered dryly. Jimin was always quick to praise people. Still, it was nice to be appreciated.
“And he says you know a lot about music. So I hope you can help me, too. I…” Jeongguk’s voice wavered at that point and seemed to curl into itself until only a small, frightened bit was left. “I don’t want to become an engineer. I want to be a singer, do musicals and dance and, and stuff…”
Even though it was ass o’clock in the morning and Yoongi really didn’t care to lose sleep over a phone talk with a drunk college student, he couldn’t help but feel with the kid. If he swiped his friend’s phone to ask that question to a stranger in the middle of the night, drunk or not, it had to really eat at him. “That’s not really a question, is it? If that’s your dream, you should follow it,” he replied levelly because when it came down to it, the world never needed another coward.
“You think so?” Jeongguk’s voice quivered with uncertain hope.
“Yes. If you can sing, that is,” Yoongi added. Pursuing dreams was one thing, pursuing delusions another.
“I can sing!” Jeongguk told him loudly. “I totally can!”
“Good for you,” Yoongi replied blandly, too tired to deal with drunken protestations.
There was a huff on the other end. “We’re at a noraebang right now and I sang really well! Come listen if you don’t believe me!”
“No, no, I believe you, kid.” He tried his best to sound convincing, which was a little hard when he was close to sniggering. Jeongguk was immensely entertaining considering the circumstances. “You should go back in and show Jimin how it’s done and I’ll go back to sleep.”
Jeongguk ignored him. “Can you sing?”
“Oh, sure, I’m incredible,” Yoongi replied dryly, yawning. “Now go back to your friends, Jeongguk, I want to sleep.”
“Really? Then sing something please!”
“Not a chance.”
“Hyung!”
He ignored that bit of overly-friendly begging. “I’m hanging up.”
“Then I’ll sing something for you,” Jeongguk said matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t heard a word Yoongi had said.
“Good night, Jeongguk.”
He had truly intended to hang up and go back to sleep at that point. He didn’t know Jeongguk, didn’t particularly care about Jeongguk except in a roundabout way because he was friends with Jimin. He didn’t owe Jeongguk anything and certainly didn’t need to humor his drunken ass at past two in the night.
But then Jeongguk started singing.
It was a slow number he vaguely recognized from somewhere, something melancholy and bittersweet, not a choice he’d have expected someone of Jeongguk’s age to make. But it fit his voice perfectly, a rich, layered tone as he softly breathed the lyrics, and Yoongi couldn’t help the goose bumps rising on his arm and shivering down his spine. Jeongguk sounded emotional and mature, as if he was weighed down by all the troubles he was singing about, suddenly years older than the lost kid asking for advice-like this was what he was born to do.
When the song ended, Yoongi just stared into the darkness, feeling strangely calm and awake at the same time.
“Hyung? Are you still there?” Jeongguk asked quietly, as if he was just as affected by the atmosphere he had created with his voice and was afraid to shatter it.
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured back.
“Did you-did you like it?” He sounded shy, every trace of alcohol-induced confidence gone.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said into the night. He hesitated, because for some reason it felt intimate and unsettling to compliment Jeongguk like this, but it was the truth so he took a shallow breath into his constricted lungs and added, “You have a good voice on you.”
He was ninety percent sure the bashful mumble from the other end was supposed to be a thank you. He was starting to feel almost shy himself, and what the hell, he was in a call with a drunken kid-what was there to become shy about?
Before he could try to end the call a third time, there was a shout of “Jeonggukie!” from Jeongguk’s end of the line.
“Is that Jimin?” he asked Jeongguk, who huffed out a little laugh.
“Yep, that’s him. He found me.”
“Jeonggukie!” Jimin called again. “Why are you out here? And hey! Is that my phone?”
There were scuffling sounds and grunts and Jeongguk shouting, slightly distant, “I’m calling someone! Give it back!”
Jimin didn’t seem to be too angry Jeongguk had stolen his phone and called someone with it, because Yoongi could distinctly hear his giggle. “Who are you even calling from my phone, brat? Wha-oh my God, you called Yoongi-hyung?” He sounded disbelieving and Yoongi wished he could see his expression. It had to be priceless. “And you guys talked for over six minutes already?”
“We did?” Jeongguk sounded curious and the next time he spoke, his voice was closer again. “Oh, wow, you’re right.”
“What did you even talk about for so long?” Jimin asked incredulously. “And with Yoongi-hyung? How are you not dead yet?”
“Hey, I’m not some kind of monster!” Yoongi said, offended.
“Hold on, I think he said something,” Jeongguk said. “Put him on speaker.”
“Are you talking trash about me, Park Jimin?”
With the ease of long practice, Jimin sidestepped his question. “Hey, hyung. Sorry for bothering you so late. What did you guys talk about?”
“None of your business,” Yoongi told him. “You should both go back to your party so that I can go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to go back in,” Jeongguk said. “I’m really tired, so I’ll just go home now.”
Jimin made an alarmed sound. “What? By yourself? Why don’t you just stay another hour and then maybe Namjoon-hyung will leave, too, and you can go together?”
“I’ll just take the bus, it’ll be fine.”
“I know you can take care of yourself but I’m your hyung, I’m responsible for you and I’d rather you not go home alone like that. It’s late and you’re a little drunk.” Jimin sounded genuinely worried.
“Listen to him, kid,” Yoongi said.
“Don’t worry so much, nothing will happen.”
Jimin heaved a sigh that was half exasperated growl. “At least go inside and say goodbye to the others!”
Apparently, Jeongguk heeded that part of his advice, because there was a bit of shuffling and a short moment of silence, before Jimin asked, “Yoongi-hyung?”
“What?”
“Jeonggukie’s not such a bad kid, is he?”
The non-sequitur made Yoongi suspicious, so he slowly said, “Yeah. Why?”
“I’m really worried about letting him go home alone. He lives on the other side of the city with his cousin to save on rent. I’m really sorry for asking this, but could you maybe--”
“I’m not letting him crash at my place,” Yoongi interrupted. For all he knew, the kid would puke on his living room floor.
“That’s not what I was saying! I was asking if you would maybe give him a ride home.”
“Oh.” He didn’t particularly want puke in his car either.
“Please, hyung,” Jimin wheedled. “You’re already awake and I wouldn’t have to worry about Jeonggukie if he was with you. Don’t you like him at least a little bit?”
Yoongi sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Will it stop your whining?”
“Thanks, hyung! You’re the best!”
--
Fifteen minutes, an old hoodie, a pair of worn jeans, a huge scarf, and a beanie crammed over his rumpled hair later, Yoongi pulled up at the curb in front of the building that housed the noraebang in question. Jimin and who he assumed was Jeongguk were waiting on the sidewalk, Jimin’s expression cheerfully content. Jeongguk’s expression was unreadable because he was buried up to the nose in a red scarf.
Jimin opened the passenger door and poked his head in. “Thanks again, hyung! We owe you.”
Yoongi just waved him off and waited until Jeongguk had climbed into the seat next to him and fastened his seatbelt. “Where do you need to go?”
At that, Jeongguk glanced up at him and told his address. Maybe it was the effect of the oversized scarf, but his eyes looked huge.
“You cold?” Yoongi asked as he stepped on the gas and they set off in the direction of Jeongguk’s home.
“A bit,” Jeongguk answered, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down further. If that and his newfound quietness were any indication, he seemed to have sobered up somewhat.
Yoongi turned up the heating a bit more, feeling his feet come back to life again. He really hated winter.
“Sorry for bothering you so much tonight,” Jeongguk said in a subdued tone.
When Yoongi glanced over, he was staring at his jeans-clad knees. “Don’t worry about it. Jimin was the one who asked after all.”
“But I called you first and woke you up.”
It appeared Jeongguk really didn’t want to let it go. “Hmm, true.” Yoongi made a show of deliberating, tapping the steering wheel mock-thoughtfully. “I guess you’ll have to pay me back, then.”
At that, Jeongguk’s head swiveled to face him. In his surprise, he’d even emerged from the scarf a bit so that his nose was showing, slightly red from the cold outside, and his eyes were so big and round they threatened to swallow up the rest of his face. “Pay you back? How am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a lot of money.”
He really was a cute one. Yoongi glanced at him from the corner of his eye and grinned. “Sing me another song.”
Jeongguk looked like he wanted to protest but seemed to think better of it because he just blinked silently. He slumped back into the seat, tugged his scarf down under his chin, and after a short pause with a quick, calculating glance at Yoongi, began to belt “Shabang Shabang.”
Thoroughly caught off guard, a laugh escaped Yoongi and when he threw a quick look at Jeongguk, he caught a smug look on his face. Maybe he shouldn’t be astonished anymore at this point, but Jeongguk’s trot voice was surprisingly good as he continued the song with gusto. When Jeongguk came to the line about how he attractive he was, Yoongi smirked at him from the side and Jeongguk grinned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, making Yoongi huff out another silent laugh.
It was the middle of the night and he’d really rather be sleeping, but driving through Seoul with a talented kid belting trot songs into the small confines of his car wasn’t too bad either. When they stopped at a red light next to another car, Yoongi was tempted to roll down his window and snigger at the sure to be dumbfounded looks from the other car.
Instead, he got his first proper look at Jeongguk, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The way he was moving his head in time to the beat was strangely adorable and had Yoongi tapping along with his fingers on the wheel.
When the song ended, Jeongguk seamlessly went into the next one, another popular and upbeat noraebang trot number. He was playing it up by then, drawing out his vibrato and making exaggerated faces and gestures. Yoongi had to admit that he had a talent for mood setting and pulling his audience along with his voice, and when the chorus came up, he decided to just screw politeness and began shouting out the lyrics as well.
Surprised, Jeongguk stopped singing to stare at him.
Yoongi paused as well and raised a confrontational eyebrow. “What?”
“You said you were a good singer, hyung!” Jeongguk sounded accusing.
Deciding to let the familiar address slide once again, Yoongi just snorted. “Are you saying I’m bad?”
“… a little?”
“My voice isn’t made for singing, it’s made for rapping,” Yoongi informed him matter-of-factly.
“You rap? Really?”
When Yoongi glanced over, Jeongguk was looking at him with wide eyes. “Didn’t Jimin tell you?”
“No,” Jeongguk muttered, awed and bashful. “He just always said you’re cool and you’re really nice most of the time.”
Most of the time, huh? Jimin was just asking for a slap over the head.
“Can you show me?”
Jeongguk’s face had the exact puppy-ish look of hopeful expectation that Yoongi had imagined earlier on the phone, all the more effective now that he knew how big and dark Jeongguk’s eyes were. But unfortunately for him, Yoongi was mostly immune to any form of aegyo-except for the moments when he cringed seeing it-so he just replied, “Nope.”
“Why not?” Jeongguk sounded genuinely upset and sad.
The expression of badly concealed hurt on Jeongguk’s face when Yoongi glanced over again made his resolve melt a little and he barely refrained from reaching over to pat his arm reassuringly. “Not now, kiddo. Another time maybe.”
Nodding, Jeongguk just said, “Okay,” but it sounded like I’ll hold you to that.
Yoongi figured that a change of topic was best at this point. “So you said you wanted to become a musical actor?”
“I-yes. I’d really like that.” His voice was hesitant still, like he wasn’t yet convinced he should actually do it.
Yoongi had a guess as to why that was. “You’re afraid your parents won’t like it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Jeongguk said so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
Humming thoughtfully, Yoongi contemplated that. Standing up to your parents was never an easy feat and the Jeongguk was young. It might be worth it or it might not. “Well, you should at least carefully think about what you want-and how much you want it,” he added wryly. “It’s you who has to live your life, after all. Most parents only want their kids to be happy, it’s just that their idea of happiness isn’t always the same as yours.”
When Jeongguk just nodded in response and kept on mutely staring out the windshield, Yoongi decided on another intervention. “So, you can do trot and you can do ballads. How about a musical number?”
The look he got in return was toeing the line of rebellious. “You really like listening to my singing, don’t you?”
“It’s that or gas money. Your choice,” Yoongi shot back cheerfully.
Jeongguk was silent for so long that Yoongi almost thought he wasn’t going to do it, but then he started singing again softly, English lyrics with a melody Yoongi had never heard before. It sounded so simple at first, maybe because there were no instrumentals to support him, but then his voice slowly swelled with emotion.
Yoongi didn’t understand what exactly Jeongguk was saying and he couldn’t watch his expression while driving, but his voice filled the space in the car, full of bittersweet wistfulness and burning anger and something like regret. The sound rang through him until the fine hairs on his arms stood on end and he felt a full-body shudder run along his limbs. For some reason, the situation felt intensely personal, as if the rawness in Jeongguk’s voice was actually vulnerability and Yoongi refused to glance over, afraid of what he might see.
He was being stupid, of course. Jeongguk was just a really good singer, a performer, talented at drawing you in and filling you up with the emotions the song demanded. And yet, Yoongi kept his eyes glued to the road even as his ears strained to catch every nuance of the melody.
One thing was crystal clear, though: If the kid didn’t become a singer, it would be a damn waste of talent.
The silence that resonated around them after the song ended made Yoongi want to clap or something equally stupid. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Not bad.” He could feel the weight of Jeongguk’s gaze boring into his cheekbones but he didn’t look over, focusing on the road instead.
He was good at ignoring the strain of uncomfortable silence. As the strange atmosphere created by Jeongguk’s song slowly faded away, Yoongi became more relaxed again, while Jeongguk was starting to fidget in his seat. If he car radio wasn’t broken, he might have given the kid the relief of music, but as it was, he’d just need to deal with it or start up another conversation himself. Yoongi had used up all his charitable energy for the night.
Apparently, Jeongguk wasn’t nearly as comfortable with the heavy quietness as Yoongi, because he kept stealing rather obvious glances and fiddling with the ends of his scarf. It was entertaining and a little endearing. Finally, Jeongguk awkwardly cleared his throat. “So, um, what do you do? Like, what’s your job?”
The corners of Yoongi’s mouth quirked up. “I’m a freelance music critic.”
Jeongguk stared at him with wide eyes. “Is that why you know so much about music?”
“Certainly doesn’t hurt,” Yoongi replied absently, stepping on the brake to bring the car to a stop at another red light. “I have to review a lot of crap, though.”
Looking intrigued and slightly awed, Jeongguk started asking him about the details of his job. Yoongi didn’t think his unglamorous job warranted quite so much enthusiasm, but it was still a nice feeling to impress someone so effortlessly just by being himself-even if that someone was a tipsy college student. He patiently answered all the questions Jeongguk threw at him, about the local culture magazine for which he did most of his work, about the concerts and albums he reviewed, about his co-workers and his writing. From there, the conversation looped back to Yoongi’s college days and his stints in music and rap writing, his stage experiences and then to both their tastes in music. Somehow, it ended with them throwing song lines at each other in their energetic discussion about the artists they liked listening to recently.
When Yoongi stopped the car in front of Jeongguk’s apartment building, he could barely believe they were already there. Judging by the dazed look on Jeongguk’s face, he was in a similar state of astonishment, but clambered to unclasp his seat belt. With his hand already on the door handle, he faced Yoongi. “Thanks again, hyung. For giving me a ride and for listening to my troubles.”
Yoongi waved him off. “Don’t mention it. Now get out and inside, kid. It’s cold outside.”
Jeongguk grinned at him, bright and blinding. “Good night, hyung!”
Lips hiked up at the corners, Yoongi waited until Jeongguk had safely disappeared inside the building before he started the car back up. The silence ringing around him gave him plenty of opportunity to admit that Jeongguk really wasn’t an arrogant, bratty kid after all, but with his twenty years to Yoongi’s twenty-seven still just a kid.
-
Sometime in the afternoon on the next day, Yoongi’s phone beeped with a message from Jimin. When he opened it, it contained a thank-you in both Jeongguk’s and Jimin’s name, as well as another apology from Jeongguk for being a bother. Jimin obviously knew better than to bring it up again.
Sighing in exasperation, Yoongi texted back to tell Jeongguk that he should know how to pay him back by now if he was that sorry.
When Jimin answered with I told him but what does that even mean, hyung? He won’t sayㅠㅠ, Yoongi just grinned smugly and turned back to his article, ignoring the following messages full of whiny hyuuuuungs and crying emoticons.
-
tbc
Note: The English musical song Jeongguk sings is the title-giving "One Song Glory" from RENT (inspired by Aaron Tveit's rendition of it). :) Other songs mentioned: Park Hyunbin - Shabang Shabang.
Part 2.
Pairing: Yoongi/Jeongguk
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance.
Word Count: 3'626.
Warnings: (none) (The rating is for a bit of language.)
Disclaimer: While the content of this story is inspired by real events and people, any references made are entirely thought up by the author and in no way reflect actual actions and opinions. Any similarities are coincidence.
Summary: When Yoongi gets a call from a stranger in the middle of the night, he never expected to end up driving him home across half of Seoul.
Notes: Cross-posted on AO3 and tumblr. Inspired by the prompt "accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au" (credit to xaquaangelx on tumblr), but it got away from me. Title from the song by the same name from the musical RENT. This is for xiajin (because I got you hopeful for Sugakookie fic. I didn't mean this one, but I hope it's okay).
(I just... needed to get this out here to give myself some pressure.)
One Song Glory - Part 1
January
The obnoxious ringing of his cell phone jerked Yoongi awake. With a half-coherent curse, he groped around his bedside table until he found it and lifted it to his face. The light from the screen almost blinded him, but squinting, he could vaguely make out Park Jimin.
“What the…”
Park Jimin better have a damn good reason to be calling at 2:30am or Yoongi would strangle him. He swiped his thumb across the screen, squeezed his eyes shut again and raised the phone to his ear. “What do you want?” His voice scratched through his throat uncomfortably.
“Hiii,” someone answered, and from that word alone Yoongi could tell that it wasn’t Jimin and that the guy was shit-faced.
“Why do you have Jimin’s phone? Who are you?”
“Jiminnie-hyung lent it to me,” the other person explained in the self-confident, earnest manner of the drunk, lightly slurring his words. “I wanned to ask you a question.”
Yoongi tossed a hand over his eyes and wondered if he should just hang up. It was way too late for this. He could be sleeping. “Who are you, kid?”
“Jeongguk! Jiminnie’s-Jiminnie-hyung’s friend. Jeongguk,” he repeated.
The name sounded familiar. Jimin had been talking about some college friend named Jeongguk once or twice, or maybe a few times more. He had made it seem like the kid was shitting rainbows and sunshine. To Yoongi it had sounded like Jeongguk was an arrogant little know-it-all brat.
He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “Listen, Jeongguk. I don’t know why you called and I really don’t care. It’s the middle of the fucking night, you’re wasted and you woke me up. You don’t know what you’re doing, so I forgive you and shit, but I’m hanging up now to go back to sleep. Good night.”
Before he could even move the phone from his ear, Jeongguk called, “Wait!”
Against his better judgment, Yoongi stilled. “What now?”
“I wanna ask you some-something. Please?” he added, sounding young and hopeful and not at all arrogant. Yoongi figured that if he could see Jeongguk’s expression, he’d probably look like an expectant, adoring puppy. “Can I?”
He sighed again. “Shoot.”
“Jiminnie-hyung always says that you’re really cool and that you’re a really good hyung and you always help him.”
“How cute,” Yoongi muttered dryly. Jimin was always quick to praise people. Still, it was nice to be appreciated.
“And he says you know a lot about music. So I hope you can help me, too. I…” Jeongguk’s voice wavered at that point and seemed to curl into itself until only a small, frightened bit was left. “I don’t want to become an engineer. I want to be a singer, do musicals and dance and, and stuff…”
Even though it was ass o’clock in the morning and Yoongi really didn’t care to lose sleep over a phone talk with a drunk college student, he couldn’t help but feel with the kid. If he swiped his friend’s phone to ask that question to a stranger in the middle of the night, drunk or not, it had to really eat at him. “That’s not really a question, is it? If that’s your dream, you should follow it,” he replied levelly because when it came down to it, the world never needed another coward.
“You think so?” Jeongguk’s voice quivered with uncertain hope.
“Yes. If you can sing, that is,” Yoongi added. Pursuing dreams was one thing, pursuing delusions another.
“I can sing!” Jeongguk told him loudly. “I totally can!”
“Good for you,” Yoongi replied blandly, too tired to deal with drunken protestations.
There was a huff on the other end. “We’re at a noraebang right now and I sang really well! Come listen if you don’t believe me!”
“No, no, I believe you, kid.” He tried his best to sound convincing, which was a little hard when he was close to sniggering. Jeongguk was immensely entertaining considering the circumstances. “You should go back in and show Jimin how it’s done and I’ll go back to sleep.”
Jeongguk ignored him. “Can you sing?”
“Oh, sure, I’m incredible,” Yoongi replied dryly, yawning. “Now go back to your friends, Jeongguk, I want to sleep.”
“Really? Then sing something please!”
“Not a chance.”
“Hyung!”
He ignored that bit of overly-friendly begging. “I’m hanging up.”
“Then I’ll sing something for you,” Jeongguk said matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t heard a word Yoongi had said.
“Good night, Jeongguk.”
He had truly intended to hang up and go back to sleep at that point. He didn’t know Jeongguk, didn’t particularly care about Jeongguk except in a roundabout way because he was friends with Jimin. He didn’t owe Jeongguk anything and certainly didn’t need to humor his drunken ass at past two in the night.
But then Jeongguk started singing.
It was a slow number he vaguely recognized from somewhere, something melancholy and bittersweet, not a choice he’d have expected someone of Jeongguk’s age to make. But it fit his voice perfectly, a rich, layered tone as he softly breathed the lyrics, and Yoongi couldn’t help the goose bumps rising on his arm and shivering down his spine. Jeongguk sounded emotional and mature, as if he was weighed down by all the troubles he was singing about, suddenly years older than the lost kid asking for advice-like this was what he was born to do.
When the song ended, Yoongi just stared into the darkness, feeling strangely calm and awake at the same time.
“Hyung? Are you still there?” Jeongguk asked quietly, as if he was just as affected by the atmosphere he had created with his voice and was afraid to shatter it.
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured back.
“Did you-did you like it?” He sounded shy, every trace of alcohol-induced confidence gone.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said into the night. He hesitated, because for some reason it felt intimate and unsettling to compliment Jeongguk like this, but it was the truth so he took a shallow breath into his constricted lungs and added, “You have a good voice on you.”
He was ninety percent sure the bashful mumble from the other end was supposed to be a thank you. He was starting to feel almost shy himself, and what the hell, he was in a call with a drunken kid-what was there to become shy about?
Before he could try to end the call a third time, there was a shout of “Jeonggukie!” from Jeongguk’s end of the line.
“Is that Jimin?” he asked Jeongguk, who huffed out a little laugh.
“Yep, that’s him. He found me.”
“Jeonggukie!” Jimin called again. “Why are you out here? And hey! Is that my phone?”
There were scuffling sounds and grunts and Jeongguk shouting, slightly distant, “I’m calling someone! Give it back!”
Jimin didn’t seem to be too angry Jeongguk had stolen his phone and called someone with it, because Yoongi could distinctly hear his giggle. “Who are you even calling from my phone, brat? Wha-oh my God, you called Yoongi-hyung?” He sounded disbelieving and Yoongi wished he could see his expression. It had to be priceless. “And you guys talked for over six minutes already?”
“We did?” Jeongguk sounded curious and the next time he spoke, his voice was closer again. “Oh, wow, you’re right.”
“What did you even talk about for so long?” Jimin asked incredulously. “And with Yoongi-hyung? How are you not dead yet?”
“Hey, I’m not some kind of monster!” Yoongi said, offended.
“Hold on, I think he said something,” Jeongguk said. “Put him on speaker.”
“Are you talking trash about me, Park Jimin?”
With the ease of long practice, Jimin sidestepped his question. “Hey, hyung. Sorry for bothering you so late. What did you guys talk about?”
“None of your business,” Yoongi told him. “You should both go back to your party so that I can go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to go back in,” Jeongguk said. “I’m really tired, so I’ll just go home now.”
Jimin made an alarmed sound. “What? By yourself? Why don’t you just stay another hour and then maybe Namjoon-hyung will leave, too, and you can go together?”
“I’ll just take the bus, it’ll be fine.”
“I know you can take care of yourself but I’m your hyung, I’m responsible for you and I’d rather you not go home alone like that. It’s late and you’re a little drunk.” Jimin sounded genuinely worried.
“Listen to him, kid,” Yoongi said.
“Don’t worry so much, nothing will happen.”
Jimin heaved a sigh that was half exasperated growl. “At least go inside and say goodbye to the others!”
Apparently, Jeongguk heeded that part of his advice, because there was a bit of shuffling and a short moment of silence, before Jimin asked, “Yoongi-hyung?”
“What?”
“Jeonggukie’s not such a bad kid, is he?”
The non-sequitur made Yoongi suspicious, so he slowly said, “Yeah. Why?”
“I’m really worried about letting him go home alone. He lives on the other side of the city with his cousin to save on rent. I’m really sorry for asking this, but could you maybe--”
“I’m not letting him crash at my place,” Yoongi interrupted. For all he knew, the kid would puke on his living room floor.
“That’s not what I was saying! I was asking if you would maybe give him a ride home.”
“Oh.” He didn’t particularly want puke in his car either.
“Please, hyung,” Jimin wheedled. “You’re already awake and I wouldn’t have to worry about Jeonggukie if he was with you. Don’t you like him at least a little bit?”
Yoongi sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Will it stop your whining?”
“Thanks, hyung! You’re the best!”
--
Fifteen minutes, an old hoodie, a pair of worn jeans, a huge scarf, and a beanie crammed over his rumpled hair later, Yoongi pulled up at the curb in front of the building that housed the noraebang in question. Jimin and who he assumed was Jeongguk were waiting on the sidewalk, Jimin’s expression cheerfully content. Jeongguk’s expression was unreadable because he was buried up to the nose in a red scarf.
Jimin opened the passenger door and poked his head in. “Thanks again, hyung! We owe you.”
Yoongi just waved him off and waited until Jeongguk had climbed into the seat next to him and fastened his seatbelt. “Where do you need to go?”
At that, Jeongguk glanced up at him and told his address. Maybe it was the effect of the oversized scarf, but his eyes looked huge.
“You cold?” Yoongi asked as he stepped on the gas and they set off in the direction of Jeongguk’s home.
“A bit,” Jeongguk answered, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down further. If that and his newfound quietness were any indication, he seemed to have sobered up somewhat.
Yoongi turned up the heating a bit more, feeling his feet come back to life again. He really hated winter.
“Sorry for bothering you so much tonight,” Jeongguk said in a subdued tone.
When Yoongi glanced over, he was staring at his jeans-clad knees. “Don’t worry about it. Jimin was the one who asked after all.”
“But I called you first and woke you up.”
It appeared Jeongguk really didn’t want to let it go. “Hmm, true.” Yoongi made a show of deliberating, tapping the steering wheel mock-thoughtfully. “I guess you’ll have to pay me back, then.”
At that, Jeongguk’s head swiveled to face him. In his surprise, he’d even emerged from the scarf a bit so that his nose was showing, slightly red from the cold outside, and his eyes were so big and round they threatened to swallow up the rest of his face. “Pay you back? How am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a lot of money.”
He really was a cute one. Yoongi glanced at him from the corner of his eye and grinned. “Sing me another song.”
Jeongguk looked like he wanted to protest but seemed to think better of it because he just blinked silently. He slumped back into the seat, tugged his scarf down under his chin, and after a short pause with a quick, calculating glance at Yoongi, began to belt “Shabang Shabang.”
Thoroughly caught off guard, a laugh escaped Yoongi and when he threw a quick look at Jeongguk, he caught a smug look on his face. Maybe he shouldn’t be astonished anymore at this point, but Jeongguk’s trot voice was surprisingly good as he continued the song with gusto. When Jeongguk came to the line about how he attractive he was, Yoongi smirked at him from the side and Jeongguk grinned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, making Yoongi huff out another silent laugh.
It was the middle of the night and he’d really rather be sleeping, but driving through Seoul with a talented kid belting trot songs into the small confines of his car wasn’t too bad either. When they stopped at a red light next to another car, Yoongi was tempted to roll down his window and snigger at the sure to be dumbfounded looks from the other car.
Instead, he got his first proper look at Jeongguk, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The way he was moving his head in time to the beat was strangely adorable and had Yoongi tapping along with his fingers on the wheel.
When the song ended, Jeongguk seamlessly went into the next one, another popular and upbeat noraebang trot number. He was playing it up by then, drawing out his vibrato and making exaggerated faces and gestures. Yoongi had to admit that he had a talent for mood setting and pulling his audience along with his voice, and when the chorus came up, he decided to just screw politeness and began shouting out the lyrics as well.
Surprised, Jeongguk stopped singing to stare at him.
Yoongi paused as well and raised a confrontational eyebrow. “What?”
“You said you were a good singer, hyung!” Jeongguk sounded accusing.
Deciding to let the familiar address slide once again, Yoongi just snorted. “Are you saying I’m bad?”
“… a little?”
“My voice isn’t made for singing, it’s made for rapping,” Yoongi informed him matter-of-factly.
“You rap? Really?”
When Yoongi glanced over, Jeongguk was looking at him with wide eyes. “Didn’t Jimin tell you?”
“No,” Jeongguk muttered, awed and bashful. “He just always said you’re cool and you’re really nice most of the time.”
Most of the time, huh? Jimin was just asking for a slap over the head.
“Can you show me?”
Jeongguk’s face had the exact puppy-ish look of hopeful expectation that Yoongi had imagined earlier on the phone, all the more effective now that he knew how big and dark Jeongguk’s eyes were. But unfortunately for him, Yoongi was mostly immune to any form of aegyo-except for the moments when he cringed seeing it-so he just replied, “Nope.”
“Why not?” Jeongguk sounded genuinely upset and sad.
The expression of badly concealed hurt on Jeongguk’s face when Yoongi glanced over again made his resolve melt a little and he barely refrained from reaching over to pat his arm reassuringly. “Not now, kiddo. Another time maybe.”
Nodding, Jeongguk just said, “Okay,” but it sounded like I’ll hold you to that.
Yoongi figured that a change of topic was best at this point. “So you said you wanted to become a musical actor?”
“I-yes. I’d really like that.” His voice was hesitant still, like he wasn’t yet convinced he should actually do it.
Yoongi had a guess as to why that was. “You’re afraid your parents won’t like it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Jeongguk said so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
Humming thoughtfully, Yoongi contemplated that. Standing up to your parents was never an easy feat and the Jeongguk was young. It might be worth it or it might not. “Well, you should at least carefully think about what you want-and how much you want it,” he added wryly. “It’s you who has to live your life, after all. Most parents only want their kids to be happy, it’s just that their idea of happiness isn’t always the same as yours.”
When Jeongguk just nodded in response and kept on mutely staring out the windshield, Yoongi decided on another intervention. “So, you can do trot and you can do ballads. How about a musical number?”
The look he got in return was toeing the line of rebellious. “You really like listening to my singing, don’t you?”
“It’s that or gas money. Your choice,” Yoongi shot back cheerfully.
Jeongguk was silent for so long that Yoongi almost thought he wasn’t going to do it, but then he started singing again softly, English lyrics with a melody Yoongi had never heard before. It sounded so simple at first, maybe because there were no instrumentals to support him, but then his voice slowly swelled with emotion.
Yoongi didn’t understand what exactly Jeongguk was saying and he couldn’t watch his expression while driving, but his voice filled the space in the car, full of bittersweet wistfulness and burning anger and something like regret. The sound rang through him until the fine hairs on his arms stood on end and he felt a full-body shudder run along his limbs. For some reason, the situation felt intensely personal, as if the rawness in Jeongguk’s voice was actually vulnerability and Yoongi refused to glance over, afraid of what he might see.
He was being stupid, of course. Jeongguk was just a really good singer, a performer, talented at drawing you in and filling you up with the emotions the song demanded. And yet, Yoongi kept his eyes glued to the road even as his ears strained to catch every nuance of the melody.
One thing was crystal clear, though: If the kid didn’t become a singer, it would be a damn waste of talent.
The silence that resonated around them after the song ended made Yoongi want to clap or something equally stupid. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Not bad.” He could feel the weight of Jeongguk’s gaze boring into his cheekbones but he didn’t look over, focusing on the road instead.
He was good at ignoring the strain of uncomfortable silence. As the strange atmosphere created by Jeongguk’s song slowly faded away, Yoongi became more relaxed again, while Jeongguk was starting to fidget in his seat. If he car radio wasn’t broken, he might have given the kid the relief of music, but as it was, he’d just need to deal with it or start up another conversation himself. Yoongi had used up all his charitable energy for the night.
Apparently, Jeongguk wasn’t nearly as comfortable with the heavy quietness as Yoongi, because he kept stealing rather obvious glances and fiddling with the ends of his scarf. It was entertaining and a little endearing. Finally, Jeongguk awkwardly cleared his throat. “So, um, what do you do? Like, what’s your job?”
The corners of Yoongi’s mouth quirked up. “I’m a freelance music critic.”
Jeongguk stared at him with wide eyes. “Is that why you know so much about music?”
“Certainly doesn’t hurt,” Yoongi replied absently, stepping on the brake to bring the car to a stop at another red light. “I have to review a lot of crap, though.”
Looking intrigued and slightly awed, Jeongguk started asking him about the details of his job. Yoongi didn’t think his unglamorous job warranted quite so much enthusiasm, but it was still a nice feeling to impress someone so effortlessly just by being himself-even if that someone was a tipsy college student. He patiently answered all the questions Jeongguk threw at him, about the local culture magazine for which he did most of his work, about the concerts and albums he reviewed, about his co-workers and his writing. From there, the conversation looped back to Yoongi’s college days and his stints in music and rap writing, his stage experiences and then to both their tastes in music. Somehow, it ended with them throwing song lines at each other in their energetic discussion about the artists they liked listening to recently.
When Yoongi stopped the car in front of Jeongguk’s apartment building, he could barely believe they were already there. Judging by the dazed look on Jeongguk’s face, he was in a similar state of astonishment, but clambered to unclasp his seat belt. With his hand already on the door handle, he faced Yoongi. “Thanks again, hyung. For giving me a ride and for listening to my troubles.”
Yoongi waved him off. “Don’t mention it. Now get out and inside, kid. It’s cold outside.”
Jeongguk grinned at him, bright and blinding. “Good night, hyung!”
Lips hiked up at the corners, Yoongi waited until Jeongguk had safely disappeared inside the building before he started the car back up. The silence ringing around him gave him plenty of opportunity to admit that Jeongguk really wasn’t an arrogant, bratty kid after all, but with his twenty years to Yoongi’s twenty-seven still just a kid.
-
Sometime in the afternoon on the next day, Yoongi’s phone beeped with a message from Jimin. When he opened it, it contained a thank-you in both Jeongguk’s and Jimin’s name, as well as another apology from Jeongguk for being a bother. Jimin obviously knew better than to bring it up again.
Sighing in exasperation, Yoongi texted back to tell Jeongguk that he should know how to pay him back by now if he was that sorry.
When Jimin answered with I told him but what does that even mean, hyung? He won’t sayㅠㅠ, Yoongi just grinned smugly and turned back to his article, ignoring the following messages full of whiny hyuuuuungs and crying emoticons.
-
tbc
Note: The English musical song Jeongguk sings is the title-giving "One Song Glory" from RENT (inspired by Aaron Tveit's rendition of it). :) Other songs mentioned: Park Hyunbin - Shabang Shabang.
Part 2.