Thread by @0000zerooclock

- Moving and Marigolds -

A #yoonjin birthday fic for @killergaru 💐😌

-💛-🧡-💛-

“I have a solution.”

“Thank goodness, what is it?”

“It involves fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

Seokjin groaned, trying to ignore the way the sharp wooden corner of the couch frame was starting to dig into his palms. “We have to do something! We’re blocking the whole stairwell!”

Yoongi had been correct in his measurements to ensure that the sofa would fit through all the doorways on the way up to his new apartment.

Unfortunately for Seokjin's upper arm strength, it seemed he hadn’t accounted for the sharp turn of the stairway landing.

The giant three-cushion beast was cocked at an angle, unable to achieve the turn radius needed to make it around the dividing wall.

Yoongi hummed a toneless acknowledgment as he surveyed the situation from the higher ground of the staircase landing, clearly unhurried as he wasn’t the one supporting the weight of the couch. “No one takes the stairs anyways.”

Tired from the early morning and realizing there would be no escaping this problem, Seokjin immediately dropped his end, using his legs to keep it from sliding down the steps. Yoongi gasped, scandalized at the careless thud. “Be careful! This is an antique!”

“This is not an antique. This is a monstrosity and I am not going to let you pretend otherwise.” And Seokjin wasn’t wrong, it was the kind of hideous misshapen eyesore that even the kindest interior designer could only refer to as a ‘period piece’ with sneering derision.

A plushy orange, yellow, and brown plaid, it belonged to an era long forgotten. Seokjin had long been tempted to give it the mercy-killing it deserved.

“I can’t believe I agreed to help you move this thing. The only place this abomination should be moved to is a garbage heap.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to help you move this thing. The only place this abomination should be moved to is a garbage heap.”

“How dare you? This couch has been with us since our first apartment!”

“This couch has been with /you/ since /you/ stole it from the art department lounge on campus.”

“You mean that /we/ stole! Don’t play the victim now as if your truck wasn’t the getaway car.”

“Well I’ve regretted it every day since and I refuse to take the blame for this.”

Seokjin watched as Yoongi pulled out a tape measure, arbitrarily measuring the height and width of the landing as if he’d be able to solve this problem with a bout of mental geometry.

Always a problem solver.

It was one of his favorite traits of Yoongi’s, never giving up even when the problem seemed hopeless.

Maybe that was why today was making him feel so bitter.

They’d been roommates since their second year of college.

Why did Yoongi decide out of the blue that he wanted to move out on his own?

Why did it feel like he was giving up on Seokjin and their friendship?

But there was nothing Seokjin wanted more than to see Yoongi happy.

So he sighed, “Alright, fine.” He clambered onto and over the couch to the landing where Yoongi stood.

“I’ll hold it while you climb down. I bet if I lift this end higher and we pivot so the inside of the couch is against the inner wall we can make it around the bend.”

It worked. They made it to the third story with arms shaking from exertion, collapsing onto the couch as soon as they’d gotten it through the door to Yoongi’s new apartment.

Seokjin watched as Yoongi lifted the base of his shirt to rub the sweat from his face, a flash of pale stomach.

Before the shirt fell back into place, he remembered to look away.

Looking back at the couch for somewhere to put his eyes, he stared at the ugly plaid of the fabric.

It was disconcerting, Seokjin had to admit, seeing the familiar sight of /their/ couch in a different space.

How much of their lives had they spent on these cushions?

Dozens of weekends of video games and ramen, broth splattering everywhere as Seokjin tried to slurp noodles and play Mario Kart at the same time; partly to prove he could do both and /still/ win but also bc he loved irritating Yoongi until his deep voice sunk into a whining pout.

A hundred nights spent laughing, wiping greasy popcorn hands on the fabric to pause the movie for yet another heated debate over something arbitrary; if that slice of pie was real, how they did that stunt, whether or not the little old lady was the hidden mastermind of the film.

Countless afternoons of Yoongi falling asleep soaked in the streaming sunlight from the living room window, a puddle of drool sinking into the ancient foam, somehow still so pretty that Seokjin doubted he could ever put it into words.

Angry at the couch, himself, and his thoughts, Seokjin stood and stepped away, pretending it was because he needed to stretch.

"Come on, slacker, break’s over. My time is precious. You could never afford the bill for my overtime.”

“Of course not.” Yoongi grinned, flopped across the sofa like a sleepy cat. “Because I’m a delight and you’ll be paying /me/ for the pleasure of my company.”

“Pay /you/?! You’re making me work and trying to charge me for it?!”

Seokjin watched as Yoongi’s eyes scrunched in laughter, stomach twisting at how much he’d miss being able to see the sight as often as he had jokes to cause it.

The rest of the moving came easily. The bedframe was split into pieces, the end tables light, a dolly rented to help with the many boxes of books.

With trip after trip the truck was emptied, and with trip after trip the once spotless floor of the new apartment became scuffed from sliding furniture and the soles of their shoes.

Seokjin thought it had been painful to remove the pieces of Yoongi from their apartment, but it was somehow worse to move them into a different space.

He didn’t like how easy it was to split their lives apart after having spent years blurred together.

He’d joked that he'd be gone as soon as the truck was empty, but that had been a lie.

Even after they returned it to the rental company, Seokjin had come back inside with Yoongi, grateful when he didn’t question it.

Maybe Yoongi wasn’t quite ready to be alone either.

Either way, Seokjin was glad that it hadn’t come time for goodbyes.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one feeling conflicted.

Yoongi was looking around the room at the piles of unpacked boxes like he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, like he had no idea where to begin.

Maybe he was still hurt that Yoongi had decided to move out so suddenly, like it was no big deal for them to part ways after sharing everything from bath towels to shampoo, but that didn’t change the fact that Seokjin still cared enough to want Yoongi to make the best of this.

So Seokjin jumped in to tackle the problem like he did with everything else in his life (almost everything at least):

Head on.

“Yoongichi,” he said, reaching out to clap his shoulder with a sharp, echoing thwack, “Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do without the guidance of your favorite hyung! Ah, you rascal. What would you do without me, huh?”

Seokjin laughed out loud at the scowl he received, Yoongi glaring as he rubbed at what would surely be a red mark, and made his way over to the mess in the center of the room, ripping the tape off of the first box he got his hands on.

“What the-?” He asked as he flipped open the cardboard flaps and reached inside. “You took the throw pillows, too! Aish, so selfish, don’t leave anything for your hyung, do ya?”

He turned back just in time to see Yoongi’s lips curl up into a smile, the kind that Seokjin tried not to think about kissing off of him.

“I’m cuter than you. I deserve nice things.”

Yoongi didn’t move in time to avoid the atrocious orange nightmare of a pillow before it knocked that smile right off his face.

“At least I’m not misguided enough to mistake these things for being /nice/.” He said, tossing the contents of the box behind him at random. “They’re almost as ugly as the couch, and that is a /feat/. I honestly can’t think of anything uglier.”

“Hey,” Yoongi smacked him across the back of the head with the pillow. “Don’t talk about our couch like that. I love it.”

Seokjin watched as Yoongi carefully arranged the pillows on the sofa, shifting them from side to side with his lips dipped into a deep pout.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, pissed at how pretty the word ‘our’ sounded on his tongue despite the fact that he was moving out, ripping the label from everything but the /couch/, apparently.

“Can I tell you that I’ve always hated this, then?” He asked, lifting up the framed Scarface poster. Yoongi’s jaw dropped as if he’d been personally insulted. “Creeps me out whenever I see it at night. I was always tempted to hide it behind the bookshelf to see if you’d notice.”

“How dare you?! That movie is a /classic/.” Yoongi ripped the poster from his hands, eyes narrowed. “If you can’t appreciate a depiction of the /mastery/ that was Pacino’s portrayal of Tony Montana then you’re /tasteless/ and unworthy of being in his presence.”

Falling back into the easy back and forth of their bickering, the rest of the unpacking came easily.

Seokjin put things away wherever he felt like they should go without bothering to verify with Yoongi.

Occasionally he took the liberty of putting things places they definitely didn’t belong, a harmless petty payback for him deciding to move out in the first place.

He took the initiative to stash the spatulas in the medicine cabinet, hide the pillowcases under the kitchen sink, and carefully line up Yoongi’s books on the bookshelf backward so their spines were facing the inside and couldn’t be seen.

It was thankless work, but when you're motivated by the sheer joy of the act your own satisfaction is payment enough. ♥

Yoongi complained about how ‘unhelpful’ and ‘childish’ he was-

(gross exaggerations Seokjin didn’t stoop to take seriously)

-but was more talkative than usual, chattering incessantly as if he didn’t want them to fall into silence, no matter how stupid the conversation topic.

Unfortunately, with the two of them working non-stop, the unpacking was quickly coming to a close.

It was bittersweet for Seokjin to see the results of his hard work, setting Yoongi up in an apartment that wasn’t his, but he was proud of what they’d been able to accomplish.

Yoongi looked as lost as he did, wandering between rooms as if trying to invent some allimportant task to keep them busy.

Seokjin saw the way he was chewing at his nails, clearly on edge from the stress of being in a new apartment, and decided it was probably time for him to go.

There was only so long he could delay the inevitable, and it was probably best he go ahead and rip off the bandaid before the adhesive stuck any more.

“Alright, Yoongichi. C’mere. Hyung got something for you.” Seokjin held out the giftbox he’d snuck up with Yoongi’s things, wrapped in neon yellow paper.

“What, you got me a house-warming present?” Yoongi accepted the box with an unsure smile, biting his lip.

He ripped off the paper, opening the box and gently lifting the clay pot of yellow and orange flowers.

Seokjin clenched his teeth as Yoongi leaned in to smell them, cheeks a stupid pretty dusty pink.

“They’re Marigolds. I figured you’d be lonely living here all by yourself, so I got you a little something to keep you company. They’re hardy plants, so even /you/ should be able to keep them without killing them. Plus, they match your absolutely disgusting couch over there.”

Seokjin gestured to the beast in question. “A matched set.”

Seokjin watched as Yoongi’s lips opened to mouth a silent ‘ours’, eyes still fixed on the plant.

Stupid pretty, stupid pretty, stupid pretty.

“Anyways, I guess I should leave you two to get acquainted. I’m sure you’ll be best of friends in no time.”

“Wait!” Yoongi blurted before Seokjin could move away, surprising even himself, it seemed. His eyes darted from side to side as he tried to come up with what it was it wanted to say. “Do you… do you wanna stay the night? We could watch a movie or something, like old times.”

Confused, Seokjin cocked his head to the side. “I figured you’d want to be alone…? It is your apartment, Yoongi-yah. I don’t need to intrude here.”

Eyes pointedly on the plant in his hand, Yoongi took a few deep breaths before responding. “I just… it won’t be the same without having you here…? I guess I was just hoping you could keep me company for a bit longer? Until I get used to the place?”

“Why did you want to move out then if you didn’t want to be alone?” The words came out before he could stop them and he winced at the way pain flashed across Yoongi’s face.

He’d wondered, but there was a difference between wanting to know and wanting to hurt Yoongi’s feelings.

“It’s not-! It’s… It’s not that I didn’t like living with you anymore…” Yoongi’s mouth twisted as he gulped, forcing himself to speak. “I thought it might be better for us to have some space. It’s like I was overwhelming your time and I… I want us both to be happy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We lived together. Of course we spent a lot of time together! The point is that I didn’t have a problem with it! /You/ are the one who decided to move out. I was happy with the way things were! I was /happy/ living with you.”

“It’s… I’m not saying-!” Yoongi gritted his teeth, frustrated at how difficult it was to put his feelings into words. “It’s not that I didn’t like us living together.”

“What is it then? Because I don’t know where you’ve been, but we just carried everything you own up three flights of steps and I’ll be damned if you didn’t have a reason." The words were coming too easily now, it seemed, everything rushing out in an endless stream.

"Was it something I did? You can talk to me, asshole! How long have we been friends?”

“That’s it, though, isn’t it? We’ve been /friends/, hyung. And I want to be more than that.”

Part of Seokjin couldn’t believe his ears.

Part of Seokjin thought this must be a joke.

Part of Seokjin felt hope blooming like a stupid orange Marigold.

The one thing that was certain was that all parts of him, as he stared at Yoongi staring at the stupid flower, were tempted to punch him in the face.

“And so you decided to move out instead of talking to me like a human being capable of speech?”

Yoongi glared at the plant like it was the one at fault here. “I was going to talk to you, you fucking dickhead.”

He risked a worried glance up at Seokjin, reassured when he didn’t see anger there. “I want to be with you. Romantically. I just… I didn’t think it was a good idea to ask for such a big change while living together.”

Not sure what to say, Seokjin took the plant from Yoongi’s hands and walked away to place it on the living room windowsill.

Without something in his hands, Yoongi looked lost, eyes everywhere but Seokjin and fingers twitching like they were seeking something to cling to.

Seokjin flopped onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“I guess I’m not sure what about that would be a ‘big change’? I’ve been in love with you for years. Did you not know? Did you think I wasn’t serious? We used the same towels. That’s not platonic behavior.”

Yoongi took a cautious step forward. “There’s a difference between thinking you might feel the same and being sure it wouldn’t ruin what we already have.”

Seokjin grabbed one of the terrible throw pillows, fluffing it up behind his neck as he settled down to get comfortable.

“A bit selfish, aren’t you? Keeping your feelings to yourself like your hyung wasn’t pining for you from the next room like an idiot?”

Another couple footsteps. “I mean, you’ve always been an idiot so I’m not sure why you’re trying to make that my fault.”

Seokjin closed his eyes as he sunk deep into the worn cushions, feeling more at home than he thought possible thanks to the horrible, hideous, familiar couch and the sound of Yoongi moving closer.

“Mmm, so rude. If you’re going to be this much of a brat all the time it might ruin things after all.”

He’d been expecting Yoongi to collapse onto the cushions next to him, so when he felt the weight of a body plopping down onto his lap, his eyes opened with a start.

Yoongi was biting his lip, clearly trying to hide how nervous he felt.

Seokjin was having difficulty remembering whether or not he knew how to breathe as he took in a rare close-up view of Yoongi, from the way his hair dipped below his brows to the red flush dyeing his cheeks.

Seokjin watched Yoong's plush lips part as he took a steadying breath before speaking. “I… I’m serious, hyung.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid at how easily the warmth was spreading through his veins, like the candle flame of hope he’d carried had grown enough to set him on fire, lighting him up from the inside.

He threw an arm around Yoongi and tugged him to flop against his chest, head landing just right for Seokjin to tuck under his chin.

“I carried this terrible couch up three flights of stairs for this ‘big change’; you’d better be serious about us.”

Yoongi nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck and Seokjin tried not to burst into flames from the heat of his heart being set aflame.

He felt Yoongi’s lips against his skin, “You shouldn’t be so mean to our couch. I love all our memories with it.”

“I love our memories with it, too, but I’m just trying to point out that it might be nice to buy a couch from /this/ century, you know? Because I don’t know how to tell you this, Yoongichi-” He slowly traced his hand down Yoongi’s arm to entwine their fingers together.

“- but I want to make memories with you for a /long/ time. And if you’re going to attach them to furniture I’d rather it be to something that’ll /last/, not a sofa that’s decades older than we are.”

Yoongi lifted his head back up off Seokjin’s chest, eyes warm and heavy as he slowly leaned in closer.

“Is that your way of saying you’ll steal another couch with me?” His lips curved up in that stupid pretty cocky smile that Seokjin hated to love.

“I’m saying I’ll rob a whole furniture store if you just shut up and let me kiss you.”

And it was with the utmost pleasure that Seokjin leaned in to kiss the smile off Yoongi’s face, their lips colliding again and again as what had amounted to years of tension finally broke.

When Seokjin finally paused to breathe, Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open, gaze a bit dazed and a lot kiss-drunk.

“I think I’ll need you to come over a bit more often. To help me take care of our Marigold, ya know?”

Seokjin tried not to laugh at how clear it was that that was the dumbest excuse in the world because he knew he wouldn’t be able to help going along with it.

So he just kissed Yoongi again, on the ugly plaid couch they shared.

They fell to their sides with their limbs intertwined and Seokjin held him close and kissed him once for every bad joke and twice for every good one.

At some point, Yoongi’s eyes fell closed and his breathing slowed, mouth dropping open to drool on the cushion.

Seokjin couldn’t fight his smile, couldn’t pretend not to be as in love as he felt.

There were worse couches to fall asleep on and worse fall asleep with.

It had been an exhausting day, from waking up dreading the thought of Yoongi moving to drifting asleep with Marigolds in his dreams, but he knew that having Yoongi in his arms was worth it all.

But, even after everything… he would need to do something about this couch.

Some things can be kissed away, but the battle over this orange plaid was one he'd wage as long as Yoongi was willing to fight with him.

He hoped they'd have something to fight about for years to come.

- the end -

And that's that!!! I hope y'all liked reading some cute yoonjin 😁 i know i loved writing it!

At the time of this tweet, it's no longer @KillerGaru's birthday in her time zone, but feel free to wish her a belated one! She's hands down one of my fav ppl and I love her to death 💔

Here's my cc if you want to tell me what you thought, and here's a link to more things I write 😁

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https://twitter.com/0000zerooclock/status/1341268800671399938

And here's the top of the thread! 🥰

Everyone have a fantastic pride month and Cakey day!

Stream Butter!

https://twitter.com/0000zerooclock/status/1401404907463135237?s=20