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karonbill · 2 years
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SAP C_TS422_2021 Practice Test Questions
Are you planning to go for SAP C_TS422_2021 certification exam? PassQuestion provides the latest SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing C_TS422_2021 Practice Test Questions according to the latest syllabus and achieve excellent grades in SAP Certified Application Associate - SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing Exam. All these SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing C_TS422_2021 Practice Test Questions will greatly assist you in your exam preparation and you will be confident to pass the final SAP C_TS422_2021 certification exam with good score.
C_TS422_2021 Exam Description - SAP Certified Application Associate - SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing
The "SAP Certified Application Associate - SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing" certification exam validates that the candidate possesses the fundamental and core knowledge required of the SAP S/4HANA Manufacturing consultant profile. This certification proves that the candidate has an overall understanding and in‐depth technical skills to participate as a member of a project team in a mentored role.
Exam Details
Exam Code: C_TS422_2021 Exam Name: SAP Certified Application Associate - SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing Exam: 80 questions Cut Score: 54% Duration: 180 mins Languages: German, English, Japanese, Chinese
Topic Areas
Advanced Planning in SAP S/4HANA> 12% Production Orders in SAP S/4HANA> 12% Master Data in SAP S/4HANA> 12% Material Requirements Planning in SAP S/4HANA  8% - 12% Lean Manufacturing in SAP S/4HANA  8% - 12% Capacity Planning in SAP S/4HANA  8% - 12% Demand Management in SAP S/4HANA < 8% Introduction to SAP S/4HANA Production Planning< 8% Introduction to SAP S/4HANA Supply Chain Planning< 8% Process Orders in SAP S/4HANA< 8%
View Online SAP S/4HANA Production Planning and Manufacturing C_TS422_2021 Free Questions
In the Capacity Scheduling Table, which settings can you select for the planning strategy? Note: There are 3 correct answers to this question. A.Planning mode B.Finiteness level C.Fixed pegging D.Direction E.Scheduling control Answer: A, D, E
Which chart types does the tabular planning table for capacity planning provide in SAP S/4HANA? Note: There are 2 correct answers to this question. A.Orders (dispatched) chart B.Capacity requirements chart C.Order (pool) chart D.Work center capacities chart Answer : B, D
Which alternative item strategies are available in bills of material (BOMs) in SAP S/4HANA? Note: There are 2 correct answers to this question. A.Manual maintenance B.Simultaneous C.100% check D.First in first out (FIFO) Answer : A, C
Which standard item categories can you select inside a bill of material (BOM)? Note: There are 2 correct answers to this question. A.Non-stock item B.Work item C.Variable-size item D.WBS item Answer : A, C
Your company produces a finished good based on a forecast and expects it to be in stock when customers order it. If customers order more than the forecasted quantity, this must NOT have any impact on the production program.Which planning strategy do you use? A.Make-to-order production (20) B.Planning without final assembly (50) C.Make-to-stock production (10) D.Planning with final assembly (40) Answer : D
Your project team decides to use a make-to-order planning strategy for a strategic material in discrete manufacturing. What is the impact of this decision? Note: There are 3 correct answers to this question. A.Production orders are created with sales order reference. B.Sales orders have to be ATP-confirmed (available-to-promise) to be saved. C.Net requirements calculation is carried out for every sales order individually. D.Storage location MRP areas are required for sales-order-specific stock. E.Both the reduction of make-to-order stock and requirements occur on delivery. Answer : A, B, C
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seokth · 2 years
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summer of our youth
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— oneshot ; 6.9k words —
pairing | min yoongi x female reader
summary | a summer of found friendships and lost innocence, of basketball hoops and friendship bracelets, of shy beginnings and bittersweet endings. this is the story of a girl who grows up too young and a boy who grows up too early.
warnings | mentions of divorce, sad childhood, oc’s parents fight and shout a lot, yoongi’s parents also have problems, childhood friends au, summer au, i just wanna hug them both :< idk if i forgot any more tags so just keep in mind that this fic is just so sad and somber, i’m so sorry, proceed only with caution
note | HAPPY YOONGI DAY!!! this work used to be for another fandom but i rewrote and revamped it to feature yoongi just in time for his birthday! hope u guys enjoy this :”)
general masterlist
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“Do you mean it?”
You look up at your friend who is sporting uncharacteristically wide eyes. Did he just talk to you? You can’t believe it. And he has a nice voice, too, in a non-weird way. It definitely matches how he looks and right now, he looks—
“Do you really think I’m good at it? At basketball?”
—vulnerable?
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You’re seven years old when you first meet Min Yoongi.
It’s a cloudy day at the beginning of summer. Biting your lip, you sneak a peek from behind your mother’s legs to stare curiously at the intimidating family she’s talking to. Your father is out at work and couldn’t come with you to meet this family — something your mother promptly chewed him out for — so you only have one pair of legs to hide behind while you watch them smile down at you.
Your new next door neighbors. The Min family, as she said to you this morning.
Despite the massiveness of their immaculately clean household, they’re a rather small family. The grandmother looks just as any other elderly would but with an air of importance around her. The mother looks nice but stern and you make a mental note not to get on her bad side. The father, on the other hand, looks the most welcoming.
He introduces himself. Your seven year old mind already forgets the mother’s and the grandmother’s names, but you distinctly remember the father’s because of how he doesn’t have the same surname.
Why isn’t he a Min?
“Hey, there,” he kneels down to your level and gives you a warm smile. You bite back the temptation to ask him about it. “What’s your name?”
You stare at him, blinking a couple of times but still not giving up your spot from behind your mother. You whisper your name almost too quietly after an encouraging look from your mother.
“That’s a pretty name,” his eyes crinkle around the corners as his smile deepens. “Don’t be a stranger here, okay? You’re welcome to visit anytime you like.”
“Really?”
This man seems nice. His voice, soft and gentle. He doesn’t seem like the type to yell at his wife.
“Of course. Be our guest! After all, our Yoongi could use a playmate.”
Yoongi?
You gulp as the father gets up and gestures at a young boy to come closer. The child seems intimidating but he also seems nice enough. Unexcited, perhaps, but nice nonetheless.
“This is our son, Yoongi,” he claps a hand on his son’s shoulder and beams at you. “You’re of the same age. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble being friends.”
The so-called Yoongi nods at you politely, to which you wordlessly nod in return. You hope that the two of you would really have no trouble becoming friends. Because you definitely need some friends.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” your mother beams at the family, putting an arm around your shoulders before bending down to smile at Yoongi. “And I hope you’ll take care of my Y/N, too, Yoongi. We just moved here yesterday and she hasn’t had a chance to meet new friends yet.”
Again, the boy nods wordlessly. You’re beginning to wonder if your new friend will ever speak at all.
(He will, eventually.)
/
Contrary to what you hoped for, Yoongi becomes the only friend you make after that day. But oddly enough, you aren’t too bummed about it. In fact, you eventually grow to love the quiet company he provides.
Before you moved next door to the Min household, you never really talked a lot back home. You talked to a couple of friends, sure, but in your own house, you always found yourself silent.
(Maybe because your parents had a lot more to say. Or more accurately, a lot to shout.)
And now that you have a pair of listening ears in the form of the ever apathetic Yoongi, you find yourself making up for all the lost opportunities.
“I haven’t really done much exploring yet but I did see a small park on the way here. Do you wanna play there someday?”
He shrugs then nods his head.
“Great,” you beam at him before carrying on with your one-sided chatter. “There was this small park back home, too. I used to play there a lot. Sometimes I’d play by the nearby beach, too. There were lots of crabs there. Are you scared of crabs?”
He shakes his head, rubbing the basketball he’s holding as he sits beside you on their family’s front porch.
“Good! Because crabs are the friendliest creatures ever! There’s this one kid back home who looks for crabs all the time but he immediately lets them go because he feels sorry for them. He was so cool and smart. I wonder how he’s doing…”
He hums, showing you he’s listening.
“What about you? What do you do for fun? No, wait! Let me guess,” you put a finger to your chin and grin teasingly, “is it basketball, perhaps?”
He’s quiet for a moment, almost as if the very question makes him shy. But he then smiles a moment later, a bright smile, so unlike the previous lack of emotion he’s shown you since you met. Nodding his head, he rubs his neck sheepishly.
“Cool. Are you any good? I bet you are. You know, I hung out with this kid back home who plays basketball, too. He calls himself a… center? Is that right? Yeah, I think that’s it. Anyways, he used to hurt his fingers a lot and…”
Yoongi is surprisingly comfortable to talk to. Though quiet and stoic, he never gives the impression that he’s bored or that he isn’t listening. And as you drone on and on a bit about basketball and a lot about your life back home — essentially letting him know more about you than you do with him — you hope that someday, he’ll grow to be comfortable with you, too.
(He will, gradually.)
/
Yoongi finally speaks to you exactly one week after you met.
You spent all of the first week practically living in their house, with your dad constantly out for work and your mom practically attaching herself to her phone to talk to someone in hushed tones. You don’t mind. The Mins are very welcoming, and despite your initial reservations about Yoongi’s mother and grandmother, they both turn out to have taken a liking to you.
They’re both still strict, though. Just like you initially thought.
“Do they do that a lot? Talk secretly, I mean,” you ask Yoongi when the two of you are told to “play outside while the grown ups talk about adult things” and are given some crayons and sheets of paper to entertain yourselves with.
He shrugs. Then avoids your eyes. Maybe this is a touchy subject?
“Here, take my hand,” you instruct him, a sudden idea forming in your brain. You don’t even have the headspace to be surprised that Yoongi actually does grab your hand, your mind too giddy as you drag him to the child-sized basketball ring in their backyard. “Watch this,” you tell him as you let go of his hand and grab the basketball he always holds in his hands.
You don’t even know the first thing about shooting a basketball. You’re gonna make a fool of yourself, for sure, but you find yourself not caring. Yoongi seems sad today so you’re determined to cheer him up with some good ol’ basketball.
Raising your hands in a pitiful shooting pose, you throw the basketball towards the hoop, watching in horror as the ball lands so far from your intended target. You’re frozen for a moment, brain trying to comprehend how something as simple as throwing a ball to a ring can be so hard.
In the midst of your embarrassment, you don’t even expect Yoongi to react. After all, this is Min Yoongi, and what might get a reaction out of any other kid probably wouldn’t have the same effect on him. The most you’ll get out of him would probably be a couple of blinks.
And he does blink. Once, twice, then thrice. And then he completely catches you off guard when he cracks a smile, releases a small chuckle, and grabs the ball from where it’s rolled near your feet and shoots it perfectly in the center of the ring.
What—
He then moves quickly before the ball can land, grabbing it then dribbling it twice, before jumping and shooting the ball perfectly again but this time in mid-air.
—was that?!
“Yoongi?” you whisper, mouth agape. “You really love basketball, do you?”
He unexpectedly stills, fingers twitching, almost as if someone had said those exact same words to him before but had meant it in a different way. He looks at you briefly before nodding stiffly and walking over to where the ball landed.
“Wow, you’re so good!” You gasp at him, awestruck. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
He turns to stare at you with a confused (and somewhat hopeful) expression. You don’t pay the look on his face any mind, too busy being amazed at his unique skills. You take the basketball from him and try to mimic his moves earlier. Yoongi, on the other hand, stares at you for a good few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. It’s only when you’re pitifully attempting to shoot the ball again that you hear a quiet voice.
“Do you mean it?”
You look up at your friend who is sporting uncharacteristically wide eyes. Did he just talk to you? You can’t believe it. And he has a nice voice, too, in a non-weird way. It definitely matches how he looks and right now, he looks—
“Do you really think I’m good at it? At basketball?”
—vulnerable?
You try (and fail) to be subtle in studying his expression but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s probably more interested in your answer, and whatever that may be is something he does care about.
“Are you kidding? Of course you are! What you did earlier? I can’t even… That was just… Wow!”
You answer truthfully, not the least bit shy. Because you’re telling the truth and with how sad he seemed earlier, Yoongi definitely needs to know how good you think he is.
“My mother wants me to stop playing basketball. Says she wants me to be a doctor,” he mumbles.
Oh. So that’s why he asked.
“That sucks.” Honestly, you don’t know what to say. This is his mother you’re talking about, and though you’re on good terms with her, you won’t dare contradict her in her own household. Never mind the fact that she can’t hear you right now.
“My dad is trying to convince them not to force me,” he continues, and it’s the most he talks with you ever since you met. “Says I have talent in basketball. In music, too. He says my heart’s not in science and medicine.”
“I think your dad’s right,” you whisper, still wary that his mom might hear you from somewhere in their massive household. “Science is cool and all but maybe you’re not meant to be a doctor. Maybe you’re meant to be a great… What was it again? A… shooting guard? Yeah! You could be the greatest shooting guard in the world! Who knows?”
To be completely honest, you neither understand nor fully believe half the things you’re saying. And while you’re too busy mentally applauding yourself for remembering the term shooting guard, Yoongi stares at you with an expression you can’t describe.
(Appreciation.)
After a few beats, the young boy finally looks away from you and fetches the abandoned basketball before uttering a few words.
“That’s what my dad said, too.”
/
True to his word, Yoongi eventually takes you to the small neighborhood park the very next week.
With a wordless promise to your reluctant mother that he’ll keep an eye on you the entire time, your cat-like friend walks hand in hand with you all the way to the park, his other hand carrying the lunch boxes his grandmother packed for the two of you.
“Yoongi, that’s too high!”
“You told me to push you higher,” he mumbles but humors you, nonetheless, and tones his pushing down a notch.
“Now, it’s too low…”
“You’re confusing me,” he simply responds, letting go of the swing he’s pushing you on, and moving over to the clear grassy area, essentially leaving you to swing yourself to your own heights.
You pout at him but eventually decide that you’re done tormenting him for the day. With your feet heavy on the ground and your grip tight on the swing, you take a couple steps back before pushing yourself off. To your utter surprise, you swing higher than before — even higher than when Yoongi pushed you — and your dumbfounded mind vaguely registers that you’re flying.
Like actually flying.
As in your-butt-is-no-longer-on-the-swing flying.
You squeal. Whether in delight or in fright, who knows? You don’t even know when your grip on the swing loosened. All you know is this fleeting flying moment in the sky where you feel weightless, where you feel free.
Free…
Your anti-gravity experience only lasts a few seconds before you finally land flat on your butt on the exact patch of grass that Yoongi is on. Rubbing your sore bum, you turn to him, jaw dropping in disbelief.
“Are you okay?” He asks you, concerned.
“Yeah.” You blink, before… “That was amazing, I wanna go again!”
He isn’t the least bit surprised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says almost immediately.
You giggle, having expected that exact same reaction from him. Standing up, you dust yourself off and help him up, too.
“Come on, Yoongi,” you grab his hand and try to pull him back to the swings but he proves to be too strong for a seven year old. “Let’s go again. It’s fun and—”
“No. Basketball is fun. Flying off a swing isn’t.”
“Yeah, yeah, urgh—” You try to pull him with all your might but he simply stands in place, his feet firmly planted on the ground. “You just won’t budge, huh?’
After a couple more minutes of you struggling and Yoongi just staring at you without any hint of amusement, you finally give up, straightening up in front of him and wiping some hard-earned sweat off your face. “Alright, fine, you win. Let’s just play with your stupid basketball, then.”
“Basketball isn’t stupid.”
“Whatever.”
As it turns out, he’s right. Basketball is surprisingly fun but you’ll never admit that to him. Though after a few passing drills and a bruised finger, you’re getting hungry so he lays out the blanket his mother packed for the two of you and opens up your lunch boxes.
“Say, Yoongi,” you mumble a while later after swallowing a spoonful of kimchi. “Can I ask you a question?”
You eye the mix of characters written on the tag of his lunch box. In bold and bright colors, the name Min is proudly stamped, and your mind drifts back to a little detail you noticed when the two of you first met.
“Your dad…” You continue when he nods in response. “Why don't you have the same name?”
“Min is my mother’s surname,” he answers, calmly. “I adopted it when my parents divorced.”
“Divorced?”
Why does it feel like you heard that word before?
“It means my parents are no longer married. I live with my mother here in Daegu and after the summer, my father’s going back to Seoul where he lives…”
Oh.
“Oh,” you say, dumbly. “That’s… I’m sorry, Yoongi.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago when I was much younger.”
“Did you…” You mumble, trailing off for a moment. “Do you still remember it? I mean, uh… Did you see it coming?”
He nods. “They used to fight a lot before it happened. My grandmother, too.”
Oh.
(“...don’t know what you’ve been doing in your spare time! I work all day and this is what I come home to…”
“...how dare you?! I’m doing my best right here, and I ask for this one small favor from you and you blow the fuck up…”
“...what you’ve been teaching our daughter! You open that stupid mouth and feed her all those bullshit…”
“...I’ve had enough! I’ve had enough! I’m getting a divorce! We’re getting out of here, you selfish asshole!”)
“Oh,” you mumble, nodding your head dumbly, a strange sensation washing over you. Your stomach churns a bit as you push away your half-eaten lunch, your appetite long gone. Fiddling with your fingers, your next words are no more than the faintest of whispers. “I know the feeling…”
If Yoongi hears or notices anything, he doesn’t let on.
/
“Ow! Yoongi!”
Min Yoongi, aged seven, your new best friend of a few weeks and certified basketball addict, says nothing as he carries on fixing your hair into braids, ignoring your occasional fidgeting and cries of pain.
“Done,” he declares after a few more minutes of you squirming in discomfort and him working in stoic silence.
You scramble over to the park’s nearby pond, looking at your reflection from the surface of the water. You don’t know how to react. Your hair is parted messily in crooked lines, some of the strands even sticking out from the braids, and most of all… this isn’t half bad! Yoongi did a surprisingly good job!
“Yoongi, this looks—”
“Ugly, I know,” he blinks, putting a finger on his chin in thought. “Sorry, let me try again.”
“Hey, don’t call my braids ugly!” You pout, patting the mismatched clumps of hair on your head. “I look good, if I may say so myself.”
“You look like a bird’s nest.”
So blunt!
“I look like a cute bird’s nest,” you mumbles. “Where did you even learn how to braid, anyway?”
He blinks, a faint tinge of red dusting his cheeks that betrays the stoic front he puts on. “Friendship bracelets.”
“Huh?”
“My grandmother and I make them every week. And the patterns are similar to braiding hair,” he says, reaching inside his pocket to take out a brightly-colored braided bracelet before holding it out to you. “This is for you.”
You stare at it, curious. He stares at you, expectant.
“Here. Friendship bracelets. I have one, too.”
You don’t respond. One second. Two seconds. Then three seconds.
“It’s supposed to be a symbol of friendship,” he continues, unfazed by your silence. “I thought I’d make one for you.”
Your bottom lip quivers.
“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Yoongi nods at you as if to assure you. “But I’d like you to take it. As a thank you for being my friend.”
You blink once. You blink twice. Your eyes glisten.
“Are you crying?”
“Yoongi!” You scramble over to him, knocking him over as you wrap your arms affectionately around him, your braids becoming even more messy with the hasty movements. “You made this for me?”
“Well, I made one for Taehyung from the house across the street, too, but—
“Oh, Yoongi! You’re the bestest friend ever! The absolute bestest!”
“Bestest is not a word…”
“Oh, shush, will you?” You don’t let go of your hold on him, squeezing him tightly with as much strength as your seven year old self can muster but he doesn’t appear to be fazed. “Shut up and take my appreciation!”
Yoongi says nothing as you sigh happily against him. Bringing his hands to the small of your back, he awkwardly hugs you back, both of you entering into a silent (albeit, one-sided) competition of not letting go until both of you have to return home.
/
You don’t usually wish for a bigger home.
You spend most of your time outdoors, anyway, so what good will a few more hectares of your home do if you aren’t there much to enjoy it? Your old house before your family moved was a small two-floor structure but you spent most of your day either in school or at your favorite park so that wasn’t an issue. Your current house right next to the Mins is a modest one-floor apartment but you’re practically living next door at Yoongi’s everyday so what’s there to complain about?
Now, though, you desperately wish for a bigger home. Just a couple more square feet you could hide yourself in so you won’t have to hear all the hateful words just outside your bedroom door.
“...don’t care what your fucking lawyer says, you’re not taking my daughter with you…”
“...you expect me to leave her with you after everything you’ve done?!”
You toss and turn, laying on your side on your small bed, and squeeze your eyes shut.
“...don’t you go blaming this all on me, I’ve done nothing but provide for our family…”
“...don’t you go acting all high and mighty, now, you fucking bastard…”
No good. You turn to your other side, eyes still squeezed shut, and sandwich your head between your pillows.
“Shut up, shut up! Fine, then! Go get your fucking divorce, but don’t come crawling back when…”
“I hate you, I hate you! I wish I never married you! I wish I never met you! I wish I never…”
Still no good.
Without another word, you sit up, take out your slippers and climb out of your first-floor window, your movements almost robotic. Luckily this house only has a single floor. Otherwise, you never would’ve managed to sneak out silently, cross the small street just as quietly, climb in through another window not so gracefully, and finally meet eyes with very familiar brown ones.
“It’s late.”
“I know,” you say with quivering lips but you manage to hold your composure, looking around for something to distract you. “Y-You don’t sleep with a blanket?”
“It gets too hot in the summer.”
“Oh, right,” you bark out a dry laugh. You mull over your words for a moment, before finally… “Can I stay here for a bit?”
Wordlessly, Yoongi scoots over and makes room for you. Swallowing a couple of times, you move towards his bed, dragging out each step one at a time, before finally settling down on the side of the mattress closest to the window. The two of you stay like that for a while, just staring up at his bedroom ceiling, hearing nothing yet everything at the same time.
He turns to face you after a few cricket chirps, a silent question on his face. You sigh.
“I think my parents are gonna be divorced soon, too, Yoongi.”
He isn’t surprised. He doesn’t know much about your parents in contrast to how much you’re familiar with him and his family, but he definitely heard all those late nights filled with angry screaming coming from your house in the few short weeks since your family arrived.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just…” You take a deep breath, your eyes tearing up a bit. “Can I sleep here for the night?”
Your eyes remain trained on the ceiling. Yoongi’s room is rather plain and… stiff, for a lack of better term. You make a mental note to convince him into putting up luminous star-shaped stickers on his ceiling sometime. You vaguely remember seeing a colorful store a few streets over, maybe they sell some—
Huh?
“What’s this?” You stare, confused, at the object in Yoongi’s hands which he starts to drape over you, effectively interrupting you from your mindless thoughts.
A… blanket?
“A blanket,” he says simply before completely draping it over you and tucking you in.
“I can see that. Why are you…?”
“I don’t want you to get cold.”
“But it’s summer...”
He shrugs. “Besides…” he trails off, “this is my favorite blanket. I used to sleep with it a lot when my dad first moved away.”
Oh.
“Oh,” you utter, dumbfounded but touched. “Th-Thanks, Yoongi.”
“No problem,” he nods at you, leaning over to turn his bedside lamp off before turning to face you in the stark darkness. “Good night, Y/N.”
“Good night, Yoongi.”
/
Sometimes, you have fleeting thoughts about how Yoongi always seems to be so mature and handles his parent’s… situation… so well. But sometimes, those thoughts are immediately squashed by rare moments of vulnerability in which his usually stoic face is decorated with more telling expressions.
Today is one of those moments.
“Yoongi,” you say gently so as not to frighten him. “Why are you in your closet?”
As if the sight of him hugging his knees in his bedroom closet isn’t unusual enough, the fact that he’s doing so in broad daylight at the same time you two usually played together just adds to the weirdness of it all.
(When you hide in your own closet, you always do it at night.)
“I don’t want to go outside today,” he says in a clipped tone, turning his head away from you.
“We don’t have to. We can just play here in your room.”
He doesn’t respond, turning his head even further away from you as if sending a non-negotiable message.
Does he want you to leave?
You stand still for a moment, your hand still gripping the closet door from when you wrenched it open a few moments earlier, and observe how Yoongi doesn’t budge.
As if you’d leave him like this.
With firm resolve, you open the closet door even further and scramble inside. Unfortunately for your cat-like friend, your seven-year-old brain still hasn’t learned how to read the room and whatever hopes he has about being left to wallow alone is thrown out the window when you squeeze yourself in the closet with him.
He doesn’t say anything, so you take that as a sign that he isn’t entirely too opposed to your intrusion. Hugging your knees to your chest in the same fashion, you wait a few breaths before finally getting to the bottom of things.
“What happened?”
A moment of silence. Before…
“My dad,” he trails off for a bit. “He was supposed to leave by the end of the summer.”
But summer isn’t even halfway through yet.
“But?” You coax him gently.
“But it’s cut short,” he breathes out. “He’s leaving the day after tomorrow.”
Oh.
“Did… Did he say why? Did they say anything?”
“I don’t care about the reasons.” He says, finally looking at you in the cramped space of his closet. “I just want him to stay longer.”
You don’t know what to say. This is probably the most Yoongi has opened up to you in one sitting, and you’re unsure if he even wants you to say anything.
Does he want you to comfort him? Does he want you to tell him it’s gonna be okay? Does he want you to cheer him up? To play basketball with him? To talk to his dad yourself to convince him not to leave just yet?
Because you would. For Yoongi, you would do anything.
“I hate this.” The statement sounds so unfitting with his deep, monotone voice. “I hate that he doesn’t live here anymore. I hate that they’re separated. I hate that they’re divorced.”
You know all too well how he’s feeling. Your parents may not be separated yet, but the stark similarity of it all makes your eyes water. And hearing him say that to you — to you, a friend he just met at the beginning of this very summer — speaks volumes about how affected he is by all of this. 
And even though you still don’t know what to say, you have a rough idea on what you can do. Shuffling around in his incredibly tiny closet, you shift closer to him as much as the space will let you and wrap your arms tightly around him.
Yoongi is the one who’s folding himself in the closet. He’s the one who’s showing a more vulnerable side of him. He’s the one who needs comfort.
So why are you the one who’s crying?
“D-Don’t worry, Y-Yoongi,” you mumble into his neck, a few tears rolling down your face as you faintly register his arms hugging you back. “I g-got you. I’m here. You got m-me. And I got you…”
It’s the first time he ever sees you cry. While he notices that you’re much more silent and sad at times compared to the other kids at his school, and even though he already knows why you’re more somber than most, he never saw you lose composure before. Until now.
Seeing you cry is something he never wants to witness again. And though he knows himself to be a doer rather than a talker, he still racks his brain for something, anything, to say to you.
When you first unintentionally hinted at your own family’s situation that day at the park, he wanted to distract you. But he didn’t.
When you climbed in his window that one night when your parents' voices practically woke up the whole neighborhood, he wanted to comfort you. But he never brought it up.
But now that you’re breaking down in his arms, tear tracks faintly illuminated by the dim yellow closet light, just as he himself is having a tearless breakdown of his own, he wants to take you far away. He wants to help you and ask you to run away with him, far away from all the madness that the grownups in your lives continue to cause.
And so he does.
/
“Pack everything you can grab. Don’t forget to wear a sweater. It’s cold out.”
“But I don’t have a sweater,” you say to an oddly calm Yoongi as the two of you are talking quietly in your bedroom later that same day. Conveniently enough, your parents are out of the house while you and your most trusted friend are busy packing and planning your escape.
Immediately, he shrugs off the sweater he’s wearing and drapes it around you. “Here, take mine.”
“Thanks, Yoongi,” you beam at him before moving over to your dolls, choosing three of the most special ones to put in your small backpack and giving the rest to Yoongi who’s already opening up his own stuffed-to-the-brim bag. Wordlessly, he stuffs them inside and you have to bite your tongue to keep from asking how he somehow manages to fit everything inside. Instead, you ask him something else along the lines of, “where are we going?”
“Far away,” he says, taking the initiative to grab a handful of clothes from your closet and handing them to you to speed up the packing process. Which is good thinking since the two of you already wasted a lot of time when you were packing his things in his room earlier. “To some other province far away. Gwangju, maybe?”
You have no idea where that is but the thought of going there with Yoongi doesn’t sound too bad.
“That sounds nice. Let’s move there forever, Yoongi.”
Zipping up the bag and slinging it on his shoulder, he looks at you with the exact same expression he wore when you told him his basketball trick is the coolest thing in the world. Grabbing your hand, he gives it a gentle squeeze before dragging you out the door and out of the house.
This moment, in your seven-year-old mind, feels like the start of a wonderful journey. And for once in your young life, it feels like things are finally going your way. And they do.
For a good forty-something minutes.
Because just as you and Yoongi walk a good distance away from the general area and round the corner of the neighborhood park, the night’s heavy clouds start pouring unexpectedly. Even Yoongi, ever the prepared and logical boy scout, wasn’t able to take the weather into account.
“Here,” he gestures at a tree near your favorite swing set which looks to be a good enough makeshift cover. “Let’s wait it out here for a while.”
“We can’t,” you whine, tugging at his hand, his grip on yours never loosening. “They’re gonna find us if we don’t hurry up!”
“They’re not.”
“Yes, they are! We’re not even that far away yet.”
“It will take a while before they’ll think of looking for us here—”
“Cars, Yoongi! They’ve got cars! We don’t.”
“Come on,” he tugs you against him, firmly keeping you under the unstable cover provided by the tree’s leaves. “We’re getting out of here. Soon, I promise.”
“But—”
“Listen to me,” he pulls his hand out of your grip and grabs both of your shoulders, locking eyes with you with an intensity you’ve only seen him wear when basketball is involved. “We’re going somewhere far, far away. Somewhere nice. Somewhere we won’t ever have to hear the word divorce again. We just have to stay here for a while so we don’t get sick, okay? We can’t travel if we’re sick.”
He’s right, but your heart still pounds frantically against your chest at the very real possibility of your parents catching up with the two of you. Sighing, you sit down on the muddy ground and slump against the trunk of the tree, pulling him down so he would sit beside you and you could lean your head against his shoulder.
You feel tired. You haven’t even reached the outskirts of town yet but your body already feels drained.
And finally, around an hour or two later when the rain still shows no signs of stopping and you catch sight of two pairs of flashing headlights by the park’s entrance, you feel his hand find yours in the muddy ground.
“Y/N?”
“Yes, Yoongi?” You feel him give your hand a gentle squeeze as the familiar cars stop a little distance away from the two of you, and both your families file out.
He turns to you, his eyes apologetic and yours resigned.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
You don’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for. Is it for insisting you wait for the rain to pass? Is it for planting the whole idea in your head in the first place? Or is it for seemingly breaking his promise? You don’t know. None of those are his fault anyway, and you tell him so just as your parents drag you two away from each other while hysterically crying over your temporary disappearance.
When your parents fasten your seatbelt in the backseat of your car and when Yoongi’s family buckle him in theirs, you take one last good look at him through the car windows and prepare yourself for what is sure to be another big fight between your parents once you arrive home.
The very next day at the crack of dawn when no one else is awake yet, your mother tucks you in the car, your suitcase and hers all packed up in the trunk, and your sour-looking father watches on from the front door of the house you called home for the past weeks of summer. Not looking back at the man she’s supposed to consider her husband, your mother gets in the car herself, locks the doors, and drives you away.
Away from your father, away from your house, and away from Yoongi. She drives further and further away, basically uprooting you from the home you’ve grown to love for the last few weeks without so much as letting you say goodbye to your most treasured friend.
You cry silently in your seat.
/
two decades later
The object in your hands feels warm instead of cold, but the memories it brings with it are a mixture of both.
The brightly colored and notably tiny sweater that once belonged to Yoongi is a sight you have long since forgotten, brought to the surface again only because you’re currently in the middle of deep cleaning your entire house.
Smiling at the piece of clothing, you remember how your parents had been out of the house that night, none the wiser about the plans their then-seven-year-old daughter made with her best friend.
Your parents… You still aren’t on good terms with them, thanks to your depressing youth. And though it’s been a long time since you looked back on your less-than-stellar childhood memories with an open mind, the fact that a certain Min Yoongi appeared in almost all of them made reminiscing a bit more bearable.
“Mama!”
And speaking of youth…
“Hey, baby,” you turn to the approaching figure of your five-year-old son and hug him tight. “What are you doing here, huh? Mama’s still cleaning.”
“Papa said to help you!”
“Is that so?” You tickle his sides and bask in the sound of his cute giggles. “Then why don’t you hold this for me, okay, sweetheart?”
His eyes light up at the prospect of being helpful, and he immediately makes grabby hands towards the sweater you hold out to him.
“What’s this, Mama?”
“That’s a very special sweater, sweetie,” you nuzzle his head, putting your hands over his that are gripping the sweater with wonder. “Mama loves it very much and she doesn’t want it to get dirty while she cleans. You keep it safe for me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am!” He beams at you, his two front teeth missing. “Where d’you get this, Mama?”
You smile, opening your mouth to answer but you’re interrupted by a knock on the other side of the door. Knowing it to be your husband of seven years, you open it, only to be met with a bright, bunny smile, and a tight embrace.
“Jungkook! Can’t breathe.”
Your son giggles happily at his father’s antics.
“Sorry,” your husband chuckles, letting you go but letting his hand linger around you loosely. “I just missed you today.”
You shake your head in amusement. “I’ve been home the whole day.”
“Yeah, but you were too busy cleaning. You didn’t notice me all day so that hardly counts.”
He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to kiss his pout away so you do just that. Meanwhile, your son claps his hand at the loving display between his parents — something you constantly make sure to show him since it’s something you lacked and longed for in your own childhood.
Jungkook laughs. “Come on, buddy.” He picks your son up in his arms. “Why don’t you go change? We’re going out. You, your mom, and I.”
“Where are we going, Papa?”
“We’re gonna watch a basketball game,” he explains excitedly. “There’s this new guy I met at the gym a few weeks ago who’s a big basketball fan, and he gave me tickets to a game tonight.”
“Are you sure those tickets are legit, babe?” you ask him, unsure. “This seems a bit sudden.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” your husband assures you, kissing your forehead. “He’s a basketball player himself but his team’s not playing tonight. Anyway, he and I hit it off so he asked me if I was interested in watching a game with him. I made sure to include you and our son, of course.”
“Alright.” You nod your head, gesturing for him to hand you your son. “Let me just get ready for a bit.”
“Thanks, love. I’ll go start the car. Dress warmly, yeah?”
You murmur your agreement, already halfway out the door and towards your son’s room. Setting him down, you see him fiddling with his fingers, a gesture you’ve come to know as one he makes when he wants something.
“What is it, baby?”
You don’t realize he’s still holding Yoongi’s sweater until he holds it out to you.
“Can I wear this, Mama?”
Your heart warms. Truthfully, there’s nothing more you want — for your son to have something that so deeply symbolizes your youth. It’s too bad the old friendship bracelet Yoongi gave you back then got lost back when you were in high school, but you’re more than ecstatic to have found his old sweater now and be able to bequeath it to your own child.
“Of course you can, baby,” you respond, beaming at him and starting to dress him according to his request. “This is yours now, okay, baby? This is really special to Mama because someone special gave it to her.”
“A friend, Mama?”
“Yeah.” You nod your head, your mind getting lost in the memories. “A very good friend.”
You remember the neighborhood park and the rusty swing set. You remember the child-sized basketball hoop and the lack of star-shaped stickers on the ceiling. You remember fighting, shouting, and hiding in closets. You remember packing your bags and leaving hand-in-hand with a cat-like boy, and you especially remember failing and being driven away from that very same boy.
Yoongi’s escape plan might have been a failure, but for a sweet, brief moment back then, you actually thought you could be free.
And for your then-seven-year-old mind, free meant running away with him. It meant leaving to a far away place without grownups breathing down your necks about future career paths and stupid divorces. It meant going somewhere where both of you could play all day and not have to worry about climbing over windows or hiding in closets.
You were seven years old when you first met Min Yoongi, and you were seven years old when you left him behind. And though decades have passed and your traitorous memory can no longer exactly recall his face, you still have all the love for him, born from a few short weeks of a bittersweet summer. And your beautiful friendship with him, though fleeting, will eventually become a bedtime lullaby for your child, and even later on, for his child.
It warms your heart to know that a few generations down the line, your children and their children will still hopefully know the story of the blunt, cat-like, basketball-obsessed boy who showed you a kind of love that far surpasses infinities and lightyears.
And just like an old tale, that innocent love will be passed on, and on, and on.
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vrrhr · 2 years
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guideclear · 3 years
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What gives a snapshot of the net worth of a company at any given time?
What gives a snapshot of the net worth of a company at any given time?
What gives a snapshot of the net worth of a company at any given time? A.Intangible Assets B.Working Capital C.Number of Shares D.Balance Sheet Answer – D.Balance Sheet What gives a snapshot of the net worth of a company at any given time? What is the other name of the Income Statement? What are the�assets that you pledge as security for a loan called? What is the term of a bond? When is…
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nox-lathiaen · 5 years
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seokth · 2 years
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hymn to the sea
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— oneshot ; 3.6k words —
pairing | min yoongi x female reader
summary | you wish you could cry, wish you could do something about the situation. but how could you, when he is obviously very human and you are very obviously not?
warnings | angst, mermaid au, childhood friends (kinda?), mermaid!reader, human!yoongi, i just wanna hug both of them :<
general masterlist
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Yoongi thrives on routines.
Every morning for as long as he can remember, he wakes up at six-thirty. Drinks his cold, decaffeinated brew at six-forty. Finishes showering and his other morning rituals by seven o'clock sharp. He arrives at his fishing supplies shop that he owns with his friend Jin and starts the work day at seven-thirty. They close up the shop at five-thirty later in the afternoon, and say their goodbyes and see you tomorrows by five-forty-five.
Oh, and at six o'clock on the dot, Yoongi silently marches to the shoreline of his small beach town just as the sun begins to set, and navigates the bed of uneven rocks to get to the secluded lagoon where your excited form greets him every day without fail.
"Thought you wouldn't come," you say cheekily, shiny tail splashing playfully in the shallow water.
He gives you an unimpressed look as he sets his things down and sits on a large rock. "You say that everyday."
"That's because everyday, you have the opportunity to leave this place. Yet you don't."
"Is that so bad?" he asks pensively as he takes out the dinner he packed earlier. Tonight's menu is kimchi jeon (his friend Jin's specialty, as he told you before) and mouthwatering samgyupsal (his specialty this time).
You give him a pointed look. "You're asking a mermaid who's basically confined to this lagoon for the rest of her life if leaving said confines would be so bad?"
He doesn't take the bait. "Well, would it?"
You sigh, closing the topic as you swim closer to his spot where he laid the contents of your shared dinner. This has become a routine for you two. Since you can only leave the depths of the ocean and wander to the shores at night when the moon is up, he saves you a special timeslot in his ever meticulous schedule and chooses to spend his dinner with you.
Everyday.
"Did you tell Jin his kimchi jeon is amazing?" you ask him as you're munching on the tasty delicacy.
It's become a running joke to you both, seeing as Kim Seokjin absolutely has no idea that you, that a creature like you, even exists.
"Yeah, Jin-hyung says thanks," he plays along smoothly, but is it even considered lying if both of you are in on the lie?
"And did you tell him the other thing I told you about?" you ask innocently.
He sighs deeply and you swear you see his face scrunch up in irritation. To the untrained eye, he looks as if he might just strangle you in annoyance. But the way he gives you a large piece of his jeon because he knows you're way too softhearted to consider eating meat — ("They're cute creatures, Yoongi!" you cried to him the first time he explained to you what pork belly is. "They're walking, breathing, living animal friends and you humans grill them?!") — tells you that it's all in jest and he's not really mad.
He could never be mad at you.
"No, Y/N, I didn't tell him you nicknamed him Worldwide Handsome. I don't need his ego inflated even more. Especially by someone whom he never even met."
You giggle and the way Yoongi's heart melts at the sight betrays his nonchalant exterior. "No, silly." You pinch his cheek and he tries hard not to smile. He fails, though. "I was talking about the other thing. You know, the one we talked about last week."
His smile disappears.
"No."
"Yoongi…"
"No, Y/N." He's angry. "I told you. I'm not giving Jin-hyung one of my demos. That's final."
"But you said he knows someone!" you point out, voice growing louder. Not that anyone outside the lagoon could hear you anyway. "You told me he offered to hook you up with some producer he met in the city!"
"I said no! You're not listening to me."
"No, you're not listening to me, Yoongi," you call him out. It's not often that you argue like this, but recently since you opened up the topic, it's always about this same thing.
You met Yoongi one random day when you were both still children. When you, in your childishness and naivety, stumbled upon this hidden lagoon and had no idea how to go back home to the deep ocean, and young Yoongi, in his curiosity and amazement, saw you crying and offered to help you mentally retrace your steps.
The fact that he didn't bat an eye to your lack of human legs and the existence of your shiny purple tail was enough indication that this boy wasn't like most humans who were hell-bent on capturing you and dissecting your species.
But you still took a while before warming up to him and eventually completely trusting him. And with the way he kept returning to your little lagoon every dusk and kept you company, you were helpless to the inevitable friendship blooming between the two of you.
And even when Hoseok, one of your kind, finally found you after a few days and brought you back to your underwater home, you still found yourself returning to the lagoon day after day, exchanging stories and even comfortable silences with the boy named Min Yoongi.
Yoongi was, is, loyal. As seen in the way he spent the past decade and more of his life dutifully keeping you company every six o'clock in the evening. Loyalty has always been his most endearing asset.
Now, though, you can't help but think it will be his own downfall.
"Please listen to me," you repeat in a whisper, taking a hand out of the water to intertwine it with his. "You're so talented, Yoongi. I may not know much about the kind of music you humans listen to on land, but I know enough to recognize that you have a gift. A gift, Yoongi! And you're wasting that gift by babysitting me everyday."
"Babysitting?" Yoongi parrots in disbelief. "You honestly believe what we've been doing this whole time is plain babysitting?"
"It's just an expression. But you get my point."
"No. I don't. The same way you completely miss my point. I'm happy right here, Y/N. I don't need to go to some snobby city just to feel satisfaction with my music. I'm happy right now. With you."
You don't say anything back. He doesn't push it, either.
A silence, neither comfortable nor tense, permeates through the air as the two of you clean up. Wordlessly, you lean in to press a long, chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning back and letting your hand linger on his cheek.
He leans into your touch and mirrors your meaningful look.
"Good night, Y/N."
"Good night, Yoongi."
/
"You've been taking off earlier lately."
Yoongi stills at Jin's observation. But that's just what it is — an observation. He relaxes when he realizes that his friend isn't calling him out or berating him.
"You still going to that lagoon?" Seokjin asks when he doesn't respond.
"Uh… yeah," he trails off. "Needed the inspiration. For my music, you know. And that place is really beautiful, really sparks interest. Yeah."
He's rambling but Jin respectfully doesn't comment about it. Sure, the older man knows about his younger friend's nightly excursions but he doesn't know exactly why he goes there.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Jin reminds him gently. "Whatever it is, hyung is all ears."
But how exactly does he tell his hyung that his mermaid friend of several years is pushing him to pursue a dream that has always been unreachable to him? How exactly does he tell Jin that he's in love with said friend who, by the way, is half-fish, half-human?
"I'll keep that in mind," he replies after a few beats. "Thanks, hyung."
/
The lagoon is less magical and more gloomy this time around.
"My parents already selected a husband for me," you whisper quietly, your morose aura influencing that of the lagoon's.
"Are you mermaid royalty or something?" Yoongi asks with a short chuckle, half of him is genuinely curious and half just wants to diffuse the sudden tension. "Why are you in an arranged marriage? Is there something you're not telling me?"
It seems to work because you let out a giggle at his words. "No, I'm not a princess, silly." You pinch his cheek teasingly but there's still a hint of sadness to your actions. "It's common for my kind to plan these things out. We're going extinct, you see. Arranged marriages are much more beneficial for growing the population."
"Oh." He blinks. "And… they already matched you up?"
"Yeah," you trail off, choosing this moment to swim further down the lagoon and avoid his eyes. "Jeon Jungkook… he's my friend," you mumble as you float in circles, "and they said we're a suitable match."
For the first time since your friendship deepened, the silence that stretches between you is uncomfortable. Your idle times together, especially when Yoongi doesn't feel like talking or when you're too tired from swimming, are usually comfortable and chill, but you guess this sudden revelation is something Yoongi is having a hard time grasping.
He's the first one to break it.
"I think that's bullshit."
There's a faint splash from when you bolt upright at his words. Your eyes meet for a few minutes before a big smile creeps up on your lips, leading Yoongi to return it.
"I think so, too."
/
Yoongi doesn't like it when his routine is messed up. As a precaution, he always sets three alarms to ensure he wakes up right on the dot, and he always leaves ample time allowance between schedules so he could prepare for any mishap. He also makes sure his evenings are free of any appointments or social obligations so that he never misses a single night in the lagoon.
Until now.
"Yoongi!" you scream as you run over to him.
With your legs. With your human legs.
"What the—"
He is cut off by your bone-crushing hug but he returns it nonetheless because holy shit, you have legs!
"Surprised?" you ask him as you pull away, beaming
"More than surprised," he answers but it sounds more like a question when he sees two familiar faces behind you.
"I asked these two nice gentlemen where you were," you answer his silent question, pointing to Jimin and Taehyung who are smiling quietly by the door of the shop. "Good thing they knew where you worked. Oh, and by the way, I didn't know you had friends other than Jin!"
"Did someone say my name?"
Jin comes out from the storage room to see the commotion but he's bombarded by your tight embrace. He's confused, that's for sure, but he returns your hug hesitantly nonetheless.
"Hi Jin!" You giggle, social decorum completely out the window. "Or should I call you hyung, too?"
He chuckles. Sure, he might not know you but you seem to be friendly enough. "Oppa should be fine. And who might you be, pretty miss?"
"I'm Y/N!" you say happily, finally pulling away with a grin. "I'm Yoongi's friend!"
His eyes snap to the friend in question, curiosity shining, but he pushes it down in favor of mirroring your gleeful disposition.
"Well, you're welcome to come here anytime you like. Any friend of Yoongi's is a friend of mine, too."
Seokjin beams. You beam. Jimin and Taehyung beam. Yoongi just looks confused.
/
"So your tail can actually turn into legs during the new moon?"
"Exactly," you say through a mouthful of food as you're devouring gimbap in Yoongi's dining table. You absolutely love the taste of the seaweed. "Apparently, it can only happen when the moon is at its darkest."
"Wow, that's neat. I wish we'd known about it sooner."
You swallow and gulp down a whole glass of water before replying. "I know! Good thing Jungkook told me about it."
His heart skips a beat.
"Jungkook?" he tries to ask nonchalantly but he doesn't know if he failed.
"Yeah," you mumble absentmindedly, too busy appreciating your meal. "Jungkook knows all sorts of things."
"Uh huh…"
He fiddles with his hands for a few minutes before he feels your gaze on him. Looking up, he meets your eyes which are shining with some sort of emotion he can't decipher.
"What?" he asks nervously.
"Nothing." You smile. "It's just…" you trail off before starting off with something else. "Hey Yoongi?"
"Yeah?"
You're so pretty, and so human, and so… there. He feels his heart flutter.
"I'm glad I met you."
/
The lack of moonlight doesn't bother you. After all, you've lived in the deepest parts of the ocean all your life and sunlight was a little hard to come by. The darkness doesn't bother you.
Except for now.
Staring at Yoongi's sleeping form, chest rising up and down with serene breaths, you wish there was just a bit of moonlight so you could observe his features more clearly. Maybe then, you could focus on something else instead of your nagging thoughts.
What would your parents think of you now when they see you laying on the same bed with a man who is not your betrothed? What would your kind think of you now when they see you hopelessly in love with a human man?
You run your fingers gently through his hair, drinking in the shape of his eyes, nose, and the rest of him for the last time. You wish you could cry, wish you could do something about the situation.
But how could you, when he is obviously very human and you are very obviously not?
Maybe you and Yoongi were never meant to be. Maybe all your years spent together was just a learning experience, a glimpse into a life that was so far out of reach, a taste of something unattainable for experience's sake.
Maybe your love story was never meant to go beyond that lagoon.
You cup his cheek, softly so as not to wake him, and give him one last long look before the faint tugging sensation in your legs could no longer be ignored. You're running out of time. Without making a sound, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and whisper three bittersweet words he'll never hear.
You cover him up with his blanket and leave before the sun peeks through the horizon.
/
"Yoongi-ah, the car is waiting."
He nods but he clearly isn't bothered, movements still not in a hurry. Jin sighs before moving to stand beside his friend who seems to be lost in thought.
Or perhaps, lost in memories.
It's been three months since Yoongi last saw you. Three months since you showed up at his shop. Three months since you ate gimbap at his table. Three months since you slept side by side on the same bed.
And most of all, it's been three months since he heard you say you love him in the quiet of the night.
A lot has changed since then. Good things. Things he hopes he'll be able to tell you. Which is why he's back here in your little lagoon, taking his sweet time staring at the serene waters despite Jin's constant nagging.
He's hoping you'll show up. Hoping that you'll come up and tell him you're proud of him. That you'll show yourself so he could get one last glimpse of you before he leaves.
Because this is what you planned, isn't it?
This is what you sneakily orchestrated that fateful day when you walked on land with human legs. Somehow, you were able to snatch a copy of one of his demos and secretly handed it to Jin so the older man could send it to his producer friend.
Well, it worked. Three months later, Yoongi just signed a deal with Kim Namjoon, a small-time producer based in the city, and today's his last day before he's set to move to the apartment near the studio.
Funny how this dream of his that once seemed unattainable is now happening because of a mermaid's doing.
"You know," Jin interrupts his train of thought. "I always knew there was something you weren't telling me…"
Yoongi says nothing.
"You always used to come to this lagoon. Everyday, Yoongi. Everyday without fail. I never said anything but I always knew there was something fishy going on."
Yoongi's mouth twitches at the word.
"It's none of my business, though," Jin continues. "So I let it go because if it's something bad you would've told me." He trails off, sparing his younger friend a wary glance before carrying on. "Then Y/N showed up one day. Said she was your friend even though you never mentioned her, not even once before. One look in your eyes, though, and I immediately knew she was more than that. She was more than just a friend to you."
Yoongi wraps his arms around himself.
Seokjin gives him a sympathetic look. "Then she disappears that very same day, and the next morning, I find one of your demos on my desk. I put two and two together. I admit, I don't have a clear picture of what really went on but I get the gist of it." He steps closer and his voice takes on a whisper. "You still love her, don't you?"
The responding silence is an answer in and of itself but Yoongi still feels the need to verbally confirm it. "I think I always will," he admits. "That's the problem."
Jin gives him a soft smile and places a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think that's a problem at all. Love isn't problematic. Difficult, sure, but never problematic."
"How can something unproblematic feel like this?” He shakes his head. “Well, can't do anything about it now. She's probably already married. To Jungkook."
Seokjin ignores the unfamiliar name and instead takes Yoongi's hand to stuff something in his grip. Before the younger man could inspect it, Jin is already heading out of the lagoon with a quick "I'll wait for you in the car."
Blinking, Yoongi unfolds what seems to be a crumpled piece of paper. It takes him a few moments to realize it was a special kind of paper, the kind he had a stack of in his house. With a thundering heart, he opens it to see a note written hastily, making it almost indiscernible, and it takes him a split second to realize who it's from.
Dear Jin,
I know me writing this may seem weird since we only just met yesterday. But to tell you the truth, it feels like I've known you for much longer since Yoongi talks about you so much. Anyways, I know you've been trying to help him out with his dream for a while now but he's just so stubborn, so allow me to personally hand you one of his best demos. This is my personal favorite!
Yoongi is so talented but more than that, he's one of the best humans I know. I only hope more of your world would be able to get a glimpse of that through his music. You know what to do, oppa! Don't let this opportunity go!
Sincerely,
Y/N
Blots start to appear on the paper and Yoongi hastily wipes his tears away before they could damage your note further. He then lets out a dry laugh.
Shaking his head, he carefully refolds the paper like it's the most delicate thing in the world and places it in the same pocket of his pants where another piece of the same kind of paper with the same messy penmanship resides.
Finally, for the last time, he leaves the cozy little lagoon that's been yours and his sanctuary for so long and never looks back.
/
My Yoongi,
I'm sorry for taking the coward's way out and telling you all of this through paper. But let's face it. If I said all of this to your face, I probably wouldn't be able to walk away. Or swim away. You know what I mean.
I think, by now, you already pieced together why I was so adamant at pushing you to pursue your music. Of course, the main reason is because your talent deserves to be recognized. But other than that, I admit that I wanted you to explore more. To go out more. To live more. Because I see now that I've only been holding you back, Yoongi. All this time, I've been selfishly tying you back to this small town when you were really, truly meant for greater and better heights.
You keep saying you're content to stay here but you'll never know what you truly want unless you try. And it's unfair of me to encourage your sacrifice when, by the next moon cycle, I'm to be wed to Jungkook as planned.
I'm sorry.
The odds are against us, my love. But one thing's for sure. I love you. I love you, Min Yoongi, and I probably will for the rest of my life. And it is with this love that I choose to let you go.
You're free now, Yoongi. Go out and explore your human world and never look back. Go make music, experience new things, and make even more music. Live your beautiful life to the fullest. As you deserve. Love until your heart gives out and receive that love a hundredfold in return. As you should.
I love you, Yoongi.
Always,
Y/N
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karonbill · 3 years
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