#he read my immortal out loud one time and no one will stop bullying ebony maw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedefinitionofbts · 6 years

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Winter: Endless Days

Part of “Tell me of an Eternity” { Autumn | Winter | Spring | Summer }

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, Immortal!Yoongi

Words: 12K

Description: Sometimes the most fleeting of moments are the ones that go on to last for an eternity.

You had heard about the immortal from a very young age.

They were one of the two kinds of people that existed in the world, living through their endless days as if it were no different from that of the mortal.

Born with an IQ lower than most children your age--a slow learner they had said- you had the benefit of doing something other mortal beings typically did not have the opportunity to do. And despite your mother’s insistence that you would grow up fine, your father was overly worried about you falling behind later in life if you didn’t get a head start or “special tutoring” as he had put it, which is how you ended up meeting a man named Min Yoongi when you were just 6 years old.

At such an early stage in your life, you couldn’t see what was so special about the man, why your father had gone out of his way to strike a deal with this young professor of basically every subject under the sun, but you soon realized that his wide range of specialized knowledge was besides the point.

“He’s an immortal,” Your brother Seokjin had whisper in realization, while your parents were discussing the matter in the kitchen one night.

“What’s an enordal? You inquire, gripping on to the hem of his pants as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

“It’s immortal, you dummy, and they’re the people who never die.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.

“What’s die?”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head in defeat. “Ugh, I give up.”

Min Yoongi was a man who looked to be in his twenties, but was probably around five hundred years old in actuality. He stood at the entrance of the door, with his hair that was the deepest shade of ebony and age-less skin almost luminous against his dark colored clothes. You watched, head tilted in curiosity, as your parents greeted him at the front door, staring at the handsomely youthful man from the staircase of your house with furrowed brows and pouty lips.

“You must be Y/N, I assume,” He states more than questions, face stoic other than the slight, almost unnoticeable, upturn of his lip.

You continue to stare at him with your bottom lip still protruding, not seeing the need to verbally respond because it’s not like he had asked you a question, right?

“Y/N dear, this is Mr. Min” Your mother introduces. “He’ll be your private tutor from now on.”

“How come Seokjinnie doesn’t have a pribate tutu?” You ask, eyeing the man’s perfectly ironed clothes and expensive looking bag.

“Because I’m smart and don’t need one” Your older brother butts in, earning him a stern glare and smack upside the head by your father.

“Please excuse my children, Mr. Min” Your father apologizes. “They’ve had too much freedom in this house.”

At that Yoongi chuckles softly. “It’s fine, I understand that raising children is not an easy feat.”

Your parents treat him like he’s much older than he looks, which is actually true, but still looks strange from your perspective because you’ve never seen your dad bow to a man who looks a good twenty to thirty years younger than him.

“You can call me Yoongi.” He says once the two of you are alone, and he’s setting his bag down on the sofa of the study room.

You tilt your head, wondering why that would be acceptable when your parents had clearly addressed and introduced him as “Mr. Min” just now.

“Is something wrong?” He asks when you don’t respond.

You shake your head, eyes still peering at him with the utmost curiosity.

He looks at you with kind eyes before turning back to his bag.

“Alright then, shall we begin?”

Min Yoongi comes to tutor you every single day, bringing his signature bag that you’ve come to recognize from a mile away, keeping all of his tutoring materials- workbooks, worksheets, pens, pencils, you name it, inside. He’s the picture of tranquility and precision, making sure everything is organized for the lesson and never exposing a single hint of fatigue or any other emotion for that matter. You wonder if that’s an inherent trait of the immortal (or whatever they were called): their ability to remain so…perfectly composed.

“Y-Yoongi?” You sum up the courage to voice as your curiosity got the better of you one sunny afternoon as you watch him prepare your lesson.

“Hmm?” He hums, flipping through the textbook to decide where to start.

“How old are you?”

It’s a question he wasn’t expecting to be asked, not by a little girl who was barely old enough to read. The surprise is not written on his stoic face but is instead conveyed by his still body as he pauses mid-flip.

He turns to look at you, expression unreadable. “Honestly, I haven’t been keeping track since I turned 25. Immort- ugh, my kind, we don’t usually feel the need to keep track after we’ve stopped aging.” He admits, flashing you a faint smile before turning his attention back to the textbook. You don’t question him further, not quite understanding the process of aging in the first place and instead opting to contemplate whether or not you should stop counting your age too.

You end up spending most days working on reading comprehension and simple math, the staple in society’s education curriculum. It had been a couple of weeks since your first lesson with Yoongi, and you still had trouble understanding most of the passages from a storybook that you were supposed to be able to read at this age.

Even at the tender age of 6, you knew you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box, but sometimes you just felt so dumb when you couldn’t even understand the shortest of sentences, ones that should be simple even for a child who was younger than you to read. And you knew if Seokjin were here, he would most certainly make fun of your incompetence.

“Everyone says I’m slow.” You confess, looking at the book with discouraged eyes. “I don’t know what it’s saying.” It was disappointing, especially that feeling of trying your very best and it still not being good enough. You felt like a complete failure.

“Take your time.” Yoongi murmurs kindly, patting you gently on the shoulder before coming to sit next to you on the couch. “How about I read it out loud once, and then you can try again?”

…

“Has Mr. Min called you stupid yet?” Seokjin jokes as he stuffs a mouthful of meat into his mouth, lightly laughing as he chews.

“No” You retort, throwing him an angry pout across the dinner table. “He’s not mean like you.” You recall all the encouraging words Yoongi has said to you along with the image of his softened features, a dreamy thought that makes a strange type of sensation spread throughout your chest.

“Seokjin, be nice to your sister.” Your mother scolds.

“I just feel bad for the guy.” Seokjin shrugs. “He has to pretend to enjoy teaching you stuff that you’ll never learn.”

“Seokjin!” Your father shouts. “Not another word about it!”

Seokjin sinks a bit in his seat, making an I-was-just-pointing-out-the-truth face.

Although you were used to being teased by your brother, his comments that night had hit you pretty forcefully. You’ve been told you were slow, you’ve always known that. But there was something about wanting to see improvement, wanting to learn, and not being able to see it that made it even more discouraging than if you weren’t putting in an effort driven attempt. You despised yourself for being so useless, and now you were starting to think that Yoongi must be frustrated too, despite his expert attempts at hiding it.

Seokjin was right; Yoongi probably thought you were hopeless just like every one else did.

“I-I…,” You begin to voice as you stared at the questions you were supposed to answer after reading the short passage, only to find out you had no clue what it was asking. “don’t remember what happened in the story.” You confess after ten minutes of silence had gone by and there was not a single mark on your worksheet.

“You don’t remember or you didn’t understand what you read?” Yoongi’s voice makes you look up at him nervously.

“Ummm…” You were searching your mind for an excuse, something less embarrassing than admitting you couldn’t even read the passage because there were too many words you didn’t understand and too many phrases you couldn’t interpret.

Yoongi sighs, not wearily or disappointed in the slightest, but just a long exhale before walking over to you desk and crouching down to get eye-level with you. You look at him with wide, glassy eyes, knowing you’ve done something wrong and he was probably going to tell your parents that you’re hopeless and will never learn anything.

“If you don’t understand it, just tell me.” He says, reaching over to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, inciting an unexpected wave of pure comfort to wash over your scared little heart. “Don’t be afraid.”

…

You knew that Yoongi was patient, but you never realized how impossibly patient he really was until you entered primary school and got yelled at by the teachers and made fun of by the other students, something you were sort of expecting but nevertheless still hurt. It made you despise going to school, a negative effect of the bullying and name calling you had to deal with every day, but the one good thing that came out of it was that your loathing of school made you wholeheartedly appreciate and enjoy your private lessons with Min Yoongi all the more.

You loved spending time with him in your parents’ study, the room that you had spend hours in everyday for a number of years now. It was something you had grown accustomed to, the two hours that you genuinely looked forward to and would even classify as the highlight of your day. Yoongi would always come with new lessons, and although most kids hated the act of studying, to you it was blissful as long as Yoongi was there to soothe you with his impossibly calm voice and relaxed smiles every time you turned to him for encouragement. You kept telling yourself that you were only fond of him because he was one of the only people who truly believe in you, who never gave up no matter how sluggishly you improved in the beginning stages, but something hidden in yourself tells you it may be more than just that.

Yoongi’s theory was that there were no such things as slow learners, only people who learned differently. He knew that everyone had their own way of thinking and understanding the world, and believed that with perseverance and the right footing, anyone could work their way to becoming successful.

He was right of course, because by middle school, no one was able to tell you had struggled with reading, writing, and math up until then. Your parents thought it was a miracle and showered Yoongi with their gratitude and praise, but Yoongi did nothing but shrug and say-

“It was all the hard work of you daughter”

It was his way of being humble, giving you all the credit when in fact he had stayed up countless night preparing your lessons and coming up with different ways to grasp concepts.

“So are you ready to say goodbye to your beloved Yoongi?” Seokjin provokes, leaning on the doorway of your bedroom.

“What are you talking about?” You whip your head around almost giving yourself whiplash as you glared at your brother the same way you always did when he’s being a little shit.

“Mom and Dad haven’t told you yet?” He scoffs. “Even though you’re technically not dumb anymore, you’re still as dense as you’ve always been.”

“Stop it Seokjin, I don’t have time for your games.”

“Fine” He shrugs. “I was just giving you a heads up about the imminent goodbye, seeing as though you’ve had a crush on the guy for so many years.”

“Seokjin!” You gasp, facing heating up at his comment. “Stop patronizing me!”

“You think no one has noticed?” He scoffs again. “The way you get so excited to see him even after a long day at school, and the way your mind drifts off into whatever little daydream you’re having at the mere mention of his name.”

“That’s not true!” You yell, biting your bottom lip and praying Seokjin can’t see how red your cheeks have become.

“It doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be gone soon.”

You despised to admit it, but it’d be the biggest lie anyone ever told if you said you never felt something akin to affection for your tutor of 5 years. The way he didn’t treat you like you were inept and never lost patience when you didn’t understand something even after being taught hundreds of times. And even when you were upset at your own uselessness, he would console you in ways no one and nothing else could.

“This is the last session?” You murmur, raising your large, round eyes to meet his, using all the strength in your body to remain as composed as the man standing in front of you.

“You’ve made it.” He reaches over and ruffles the top of your hair, that familiar half smile stretching his lips. “You don’t need me anymore.

“B-but…” You feel your bottom lip tremble, and you have to look away to distract yourself from the reality of the situation. Was this actually the last time you would ever see him?

“Keep working hard and you’ll soar higher than a lot of mortals in this world.”

Mortals. You can’t say that you never forgot why Yoongi could never stay with you for long. You had gotten so used to him coming over to your house, tutoring you for so many years that your brain decided to ignore the real issue at hand.

Min Yoongi was an immortal human being, the secret to his everlasting youth lied within his perennial heartbeat and specialized mind, a signature of those who lived forever.

It was something that Seokjin had told you from day one, and even now that you’ve learned about the their species in school, you still had a hard time accepting the fact that the Yoongi you had known for so many years was so fundamentally different from you that reaching the cusp of parting with him was inevitable.

And even when you breezed through high school and eventually your undergraduate years in university, you still couldn’t forget him. How could you when you were still using everything he taught you-skills that saved your ass on more occasions than you can count? You could never forget the guidance he provided you in those critical years of your childhood, teaching you how to use elaborative rehearsal and other forms of problem solving that was tailored to you, and in the years after he left, you continued to hone those same skills for the rest of your educational career, never forgetting the man with a gentle voice and the most soothing of smiles.

…

“Immortals have one interesting ability that keeps them sane.” The voice of your graduate professor echoes throughout the lecture hall.

It had already been years since you last thought about the immortals as a branched off species of the human race. You had classes here and there back in high school biology about the basics-how a mutation occurred in the human genome that allowed some homo sapiens to regenerate their cells endlessly and how their body “ages” differently from yours.

There were many things you still did not know about them, or more like people in general did not know about them. Thinking back you hadn’t told anyone that you actually had an immortal being as your tutor for a good 5 years, not even in high school where some obnoxious students would brag about knowing an immortal or having an immortal friend just to get attention. It was childish, and you preferred not to get involved in such meaningless acts because you knew for a fact that any mortal who actually had experience with interacting with an immortal would know that it doesn’t actually feel any different.

Immortals aren’t this exotic animal at the zoo or some masked superhero in a movie, they were just as human as any other mortal, or perhaps Yoongi was an exception and they are a world apart. Whatever the case, you couldn’t deny or confirm that because you had never met anyone else among his species.

Now sitting in a lecture for your graduate program in Genetics, you were finally getting filled in on all the details of how exactly immortals are different from “normal” human beings on a molecular level.

“The secret lies within their selective memory.” The professor continues to explain. “Haven’t you ever wondered how their brains are able to keep track of everything that’s ever happened in the hundreds, thousands, and eventually infinite number of years they will remain alive?” He pauses to let the question settle. “We’ve found time and time again that immortal beings lose copious amounts of their memory each time their brains are regenerated. The memory loss ability is actually a product of evolution. Imagine how draining it would be to retain everything. They would go insane.”

“Do they have control over which memories they choose to keep?” A student in the crowd inquires.

The professor chuckles lightheartedly. “Good question. In fact, they don’t, for the most part at least.” He replies. “We have found over the years that the bulk of their memory loss is due to the erasing of their episodic memory, those associated with autobiographical events, for example: times, places, associated emotions, and other contextual information about people they knew in the past, what happened, when and where etc. Although it’s still not fully understood if the memory erasing occurs consciously or subconsciously, it’s most likely a combination of both.”

There’s a silent agreement that vibrates through the crowd of students.

“It has no effect on their semantic memory, which is why they are perceived as humans who possess super intelligence, but it’s merely an effect of living for so long.”

Your mind begins to drift off again, a terrible habit of yours that would kick in whenever you got bored listening to lectures or when you were trying to concentrate for long periods of time. Everything your professor was explaining now was not new to you; after all it was only the first week of the semester where class time was usually dedicated to logistics and a brief overviews of the course.

You were going to go through your first rotation today, finally getting to chose which professor you would be conducting research under for the next 4 years. It was exciting because the special thing about this university that you chose was that every student would get a chance to work under an immortal professor. It was a very specialized graduate program that isn’t just offered at any school, but rather a select few in the country, and that just so happens to be the reason you chose to pursue a PhD here.

“So have you looked at the list of names yet?” Hoseok inquires as the two of you are grabbing lunch.

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You reply through a mouthful of sandwich. He throws you a disgusted look at your bad habit of speaking with your mouthful.

Jung Hoseok was someone you met back in undergrad, your organic chemistry lab partner who was a genius in his own right because he managed to ace the course without even buying textbook, despite the professor taking the time to remind the students every week that the only way to even pass the class was to do the problems in the back of the book.

“I guess their names don’t matter, but you should’ve at least gotten acquainted with their current research.” He throws you a weary look.

You shrug. “I’m not that picky.”

“Y/N! What if they question you about your interest in their lab?”

“Look, Hobi…” You had never told him about you actually knowing an immortal, but since he’d be meeting one anyways, you figure it’s not a big deal. “I had an immortal private tutor when I was 6.”

His eyes widen and his jaw slacks. “Seriously?”

You nod.

“B-but, how-why are you just telling me this now?”

“Because that’s what I’m going to say when I meet those immortal professors this afternoon. I’m going to talk about my personal story and how I became so fascinated by their race and ultimately decided to study Human Genetics. Simple.” You take another bite of your sandwich that was now beginning to fall apart because the filling to bread ratio was too large.

“Wow, that’s…wow” He seems to be at loss for words. “What were they like?”

You spend the rest of your lunch break filling Hoseok in on your past, skipping most of the minor details and choosing to emphasize the more relevant parts, making it sound like some major turning point in your life that eventually led you to the realization of wanting to understand the history of human evolution through molecular biology and genetics, aka, going over that speech that you had rehearsed for today. It was the truth, albeit not the entire story, but good enough for those professors, or at least you thought.

When rotations do roll around, you tour several labs run by immortal professors. One in particular, led by a professor named Kim Taehyung catches your interest because he was a quirky man with a boxy smile who seemed very passionate about his work in human-animal hybrids. It was interesting, but a little too extreme for your tastes. Then there was a woman named Kim Yuna who prides herself in being the first scientist to discover the family of genes that control immortal cell regeneration.

Two more labs came after that, but they didn’t really catch your attention so you barely remembered what they were. The last lab you and Hoseok, along with the rest of the graduate students were set up to visit was at the end of the hall. You hear someone whisper in the back that this last lab is one of the most difficult labs to get in because the professor who runs it is very picky when it comes to students wanting to work under him because he apparently studies the psychological states of immortal beings. It sounded interesting, but you were tired from walking all afternoon and weren’t in the mood to listen in on people’s conversations.

The hushed voices diminish to eerie silence once the double doors of the lab are pushed open. You are immediately hit with the smell of sterilization fluid and bright light, but all of your senses are drowned out as you stare at the dark haired professor waiting to greet the group of students one by one. You freeze in place when you see his face because it was a face you had never expected to see…ever again.

Min Yoongi.

Your first thought is that this must be a dream. You must’ve been studying for finals, fell asleep, and started dreaming about the guy that has consistently shown up in your private realm of slumber for years now. You blame it on your childish mind, and those raging teenage hormones that just won’t seem to go away. But Hoseok’s voice and nudge in the arm tells you, you’re most certainly not asleep right now.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Professor Min.” You reach out an arm to shake his hand, and it’s trembling like no other. You want to make a run for it, not knowing why though because you had wanted to see him again ever since he left. But there was something about seeing the physical presence of him standing in front of you that made you wish none of what was happening now was real because the heat rushing to your face is threatening to kill you with embarrassment.

“Welcome” He says, not displaying a single hint of recognition on his features, but a subtle faltering glint in his eyes tells you otherwise.

…

“So remember the immortal tutor I told you about?”

“Yeah.”

“I know this sounds like too much of a coincidence, but it’s him.”

Hoseok nearly chokes on the sprite he was drinking. “What?!?!” He almost has the urge to fling the can across the room, but ultimately decides against having to clean up the resulting mess. “You’re kidding, right?”

You give him an unfortunate look while shaking your head.

“So what the hell are you waiting for? Request to conduct research in his lab!”

“I-I..c-can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because I like him.”

Hearing those words escape your mouth for the first time ever feels like an out of body experience. You had no idea what possessed you to admit such a deeply buried confession to Hoseok. In fact, you had been denying such an acknowledgement to yourself for years, but something inside told you that if you didn’t get it out there now you’d eventually explode.

Hoseok’s face is unreadable, but you know he’s about to lecture you on how ridiculous you were being. How impossible this whole situation was, and how you need to stay away from Yoongi or you’ll only end up getting hurt or embarrassed or become a delusional mess, permanently.

“So…you’re going to work under some other professor just so you can date Min Yoongi?” Hoseok ponders over your strategy, deeming it reasonable, or so it seems from the looks of the nodding action his head partakes in. Of course, it made sense that way since a professor dating his student would risk coming off as unacceptable to some.

“What?” You furrow your brows so densely that you’re sure you just gave yourself a hoard of permanent wrinkles on your forehead. “No, no…I need to avoid him, that’s what I’m getting at.” You shake your head, wondering how in the world Hoseok got the idea that you would actually attempt to pursue such a juvenile unrequited love, and in such an absurd manner to top it.

“But……why?” He flashes you a confused look. “Why would you avoid someone you like?”

“Jung Hoseok” You use his full name for emphasis. “In case you’ve forgotten already, that man is immortal, and what am I?”

“They’re still the same species.” Hoseok reminds. “Y/N, reproduction is not an issue here.”

“Hobi! That’s not what I’m worried about” You gasp, face feeling hotter than when you saw Yoongi this past afternoon.

“Then what? It’s not against the law. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s not accepted, and he would never feel the same way.” You murmur. “Think about it, why would he chose me over some other gorgeous, forever youthful immortal lady?”

Hoseok doesn’t respond right away, probably trying to come up with some lame sympathetic comment in an attempt to console you. But you didn’t need it; you’re not that same stupid child anymore. You are old enough to be rational and contain such foolish emotions.

…

A week later, all of the grad students finally receive an email notifying them of which labs have offered them a research position. Everyone was allowed to choose amongst the acceptances, and of course, you were no exception. Looking at the names of the professors listed in the email you just clicked open, you force yourself to ignore the last one.

“Y/N, you got an offer from Professor Min’s lab, why would you choose Professor Choi’s, you’re not even remotely interested in his work.” You can practically see the exasperated look on Hoseok’s face without even having to turn around.

“I told you, Hobi. It’s so I can stop living in my own delusional world.” You respond, already typing the email of thanks to accept the offer from Professor Choi Minho. Although you weren’t quite able to recall what exactly he was researching, you’re sure you can get yourself to grow to like it eventually.

“I heard Min only accepted one student this year.” He says, making your fingers stop moving. “Do you understand how lucky you are?”

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to continue with your email and ignore whatever your long time friend was saying, but you find yourself lacking the will.

…

Walking down the lab hall with clammy palms and trembling shoulders, you literally have to fight off he growing urge to run away and hide somewhere no one will find you. You were officially joining Yoongi’s lab today, and you don’t restrain yourself from putting full blame on Hoseok that all of this was actually happening. On second thought, there was no reason you should be feeling like this in the first place, not when everything was built in your head and the reality of the situation is not worthy of such a reaction at all.

You were overreacting.

You had spent all of yesterday convincing yourself that you were doing this because facing the problem head on was the only real way to get over it. But who the fuck were you kidding? You knew why you never sent that email to Professor Choi, and instead decided to spend two hours coming up with a natural sounding one-paragraph email to Min Yoongi and another fifteen minutes hovering over the send button because you couldn’t make up your damn mind. You wanted to be his student and work in his lab, and you knew that. You’ve longed to see him again for years, and you couldn’t even try to deny that humiliating desire to be with him-the one that had plagued your emotions when you were younger.

But why the hell were you so nervous when you had convinced yourself that you had grown past those foolish emotions? Why was your stomach churning with a million butterflies and your legs feeling like marshmallows when you were just going to work with him in a professional setting? The man had met you when you were a child, listening to everything he said in awe and spewing random comments left and right. Surly you had grown up to be much less obnoxious adult. There was no reason to feel so self-conscious now.

“Have you forgotten me already?”

You slowly raise your head to meet his eyes. Eyes that haven’t changed one bit since you last saw him a decade ago, and you almost can’t breathe with how intently they are focused on you right then.

“I-I…”

He chuckles, light and smooth, making you feel like you were ten years old again, like you hadn’t matured at all and would always remain a child in his eyes.

“I’m glad you chose my lab.” He says, voice not giving away anything other than a formal welcome, the same thing he would be saying to any other student that he would’ve accepted as a research graduate.

“T-thank you for accepting me” You’re voice is soft, but at least still audible. You didn’t know what else to say, you were basically repeating the same words you had written in the email.

You see the slight upturn of Yoongi’s lip, but otherwise no sign of elation or gratification. Of course, what were you expecting? Immortals do not feel emotion as strongly as the mortal, and you should know better by now. You’ve learned over the years that it’s due to the constant refreshing of their episodic memory and their guaranteed eternal lives. The concept has always interested you, why they were so numb to things that would make normal humans feel overwhelmed.

“Have you thought about a research topic?” He questions, still looking at the way you were shifting your feet uncomfortably.

“Ummm, immortal psychology?” You wince at your broad statement.

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well, yes, that is the general area we study in my lab. Can you be more specific?”

Shit. Why the hell did you not prepare for this? You didn’t even fucking read any of his recently published papers. God you’re an idiot. Now you were really starting to regret not heeding Hoseok’s warning the other day.

“The part about n-not dying?” It comes out as a question more than a resolute statement.

Yoongi waits for you to continue.

“Like what happens in an accident? Can immortals be killed?” You mentally face palm as the words leave your mouth. What kind of fucking nonsense are you spewing? It’s basic knowledge that they don’t die. Hello? What part of immortal did you not understand? You were putting some serious consideration into the idea of jumping out the window in that moment. Pull it together.

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away, but you can tell he’s disappointed in your inadequate preparation. “It sounds like you should’ve chosen Professor Kim Yuna’s lab instead. She’s the one who specializes in immortal cell regeneration.” Yoongi sighs and directs his attention to a series of vials on the counter. “Our cells regenerate almost instantaneously. So we don’t die even in accidents. We can’t be killed, and even in the event that we do, we’ll come back alive. Maybe you should’ve chosen to study the spiritual side of immortality. How our souls also take part in the regenerating process.” His voice sounds distant verging on detached, which only fuels your desperation.

“What about the carrying capacity of the planet? Wouldn’t the rise in immortal humans contribute to overpopulation?” You’re honestly just hysterical now.

Yoongi huffs a small laugh. “We still make up such small portions of the human population that it essentially has no effect, especially since we don’t reproduce, and by the time these rare mutations occur frequently enough, I’m sure technology will have found other planets or universes for us to inhabit.”

You can sense the dissatisfied tone in his voice even though it sounds no different from how he normally speaks.

There’s a pregnant pause, one that feels so agonizing that you can’t stand how stupid you are being. He’s totally going to kick you out of his lab now and probably regrets putting so much effort into tutoring you in the past, seeing as though you have not improved at all from that retarded little girl who couldn’t even read.

“I-I’m sorry Professor Min. To be honest, I haven’t actually thought about what I want to research specifically.” You finally confess, admitting that you came unprepared and dropping your gaze to the ground, preparing to accept whatever punishment you were in for.

The pause continues to drag on, so long that you suspect Yoongi was so appalled by your ineptitude that he walked out of the room. You force yourself to lift you head to see where he had gone, but realize that he’s actually approached you and was looking at your dejected face with that same note of kindness you see in your dreams.

“It’s ok, I can help you go over your options.” He whispers with that look in his eyes that you know oh-so well.

And you can’t seem to look away, not when his face is so kind in contrast to what you had expected to see, and certainly not when he’s physically closer to you than he’s been in years. At that moment you were that 6-year-old child again, sitting at the desk in your parents’ study, gazing into the eyes of an immortal man who was kneeling by your chair as if time had stopped, and all the particles in the universe had frozen in place.

…

“So how’s lab?” Hoseok asks, deceptively innocent question seeming to not contain any underlying meaning, no ulterior motive, but you knew exactly what he was really curious to hear about.

“He hasn’t changed.” You reply, stirring your hot soup with your spoon in hopes of making it cool down faster by dispersing the heat.

“Well, did you expect him to?” Hoseok’s question hits you as a surprise.

“I-I dunno. Maybe?”

“Y/N, you do realize that 10 years for you literally feels like an infinitesimal second to them right? They live forever, time doesn’t even hold importance for them.”

You weren’t expecting Hoseok’s words to hit you so hard, but you’ve never actually thought about the concept of time to immortal beings. It was more than just you not being exactly skilled at stepping into other people’s shoes, but you were always dense, clueless, and unable to read situations as accurately as normal people could.

...

“I want to research how immortals perceive time.” You announce, sitting in Yoongi’s office as he waits for you to explain where your interest in immortal psychology lies.

“Interesting” He comments. “I see you’ve put much consideration into this.”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’m curious to know if the absence of a time limit in their eternal lives effects their ability to feel the deep range of emotions that mortals are capable of feeling.” You feel a light wave of heat crawl up your face, but you try to ignore it nonetheless.

“It’s true that immortals feel more muted versions of human emotion, in fact, it’s even negligible to us most of the time. There are even some who do not feel anything at all, which I have researched in the past. But I must admit, I have never considered the theory that time would be the root of such a phenomenon.” Yoongi ponders over your chosen topic.

He doesn’t question your reason for choosing to research immortal time perception any further, giving you the ok to begin collecting background information before the designing of your experiment.

You actually learn quite a lot of new things in the process, namely those about immortals never getting attached to things that are fleeting because their minds have developed a sort of self defense mechanism to avoid lasting emotional pain. It also explains why they lose their episodic memory, the type that is most taxing on their mental health. It is still unknown if it’s possible for them suddenly develop emotions that are so strong that the memory of it never gets erased, but the potential of that being extremely damaging is obvious.

Going to lab was gradually becoming, dare you say it, enjoyable and relaxing. You almost begin to wonder how such an intimidating person like Yoongi could make you feel so comfortable. Perhaps it was a result of him being your tutor for so many years and that feeling of his constant presence continued to remain familiar to you despite the gap years in between or maybe it was the way he treated you without any judgment, making you feel rest assured, even when you were letting him read you like an open book.

“It’s late. I’ll take you home.” Yoongi says one evening after everyone had left the lab hours ago.

Your head bolts up from your laptop and you glance at the clock. It was already 10pm. You had completely lost track of time, which is ironic because you were reading about it the damn topic the entire time.

“I-I-”

“You can continue tomorrow. I’m assuming you still have class.” Yoongi reminds, taking off his lab coat and grabbing his car keys.

It was obvious that Yoongi wasn’t aware that you weren’t actually going to request for more time to do research, you were just startled by his offer to take you home. Like was this normal? You’ve learned that with Yoongi, it’s hard to tell what’s normal and what’s “special” treatment, since he’s so calm all the time and doesn’t express emotion. Of course, because he doesn’t feel true emotion. You’ve even tried to differentiate his varying types of calmness, like the subtle lower pitch of his voice, the tiny bit of extra cloudiness in his pupils, the nonexistent twitch of his lip corner… or maybe it was all in your head and he actually just feels the same all the time.

You were probably going crazy because if Hoseok knew about all the things that would dance around your head that had to do with Min Yoongi, he’d definitely be very, very concerned about your mental well being.

You find yourself sitting in the passenger’s seat of Yoongi’s car, staring out the window but of course, sneaking occasional glances at the poised way he drives. With his eyes trained on the road, you wonder if he’s thinking about work, life in general, or some other thing you probably can’t even wrap your head around. What are thoughts like when you live forever? What are they like when you don’t actually deal with emotions?

“Are you hungry?” Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your imaginary little world.

“H-Huh?”

“You didn’t eat dinner yet.” He states.

“Oh, I-I’m not that hungry.” Your wince as your stomach growls loudly at the worst possible time. Damn it.

“There’s a noodle place right around the corner. You mind if we stop by?” Yoongi says, pretending like he was the one who wanted to eat to save you from dying of embarrassment.

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead just pulls into the parking lot. He walks into the empty shop with you trailing not far behind. The storeowners inform the two of you that they were about to close, but agree to serve you as their last customers.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi ask, looking up mid-slurp.

“U-uh, n-no.” You quickly avert your eyes and mentally curse at yourself for gawking at him like he was some endangered animal at the zoo. “I-it’s just, surprising…seeing you…eating noodles and all…” You trail off.

“We eat and sleep just like you.” Yoongi states.

“Y-yeah I know… I just thought…nevermind.” You actually didn’t know what you were thinking. Of course they lived their lives in exactly the same way. What were you even expecting?

You finish the rest of the meal in silence. Walking out of the shop, you thank Yoongi for treating you and are actually glad the darkness is hiding your nervous quivering and constant lip biting.

“I’m sorry you had to go out of your way to take me home. I should’ve kept track of time better.” You were about to thank him for dropping you off, but he interrupts you before you can voice your next sentence.

“You’re over thinking it.” Yoongi lets out a long exhale.

You don’t know how to respond, suddenly forgetting what exactly were you trying to get at with everything you’ve said so far.

“We’re seriously not as different, minus the eternal youth part. Think of it as you living the same day over and over again. You eventually become immune to the repetition.”

“But don’t you get bored?” The question comes out before your mind can run it through a filter.

“I think a better question is, do I ever not feel bored.” He laughs, albeit lightly, but it’s the first time you’ve heard an actual joke come out of him, and you literally can’t tear your eyes away from his almost, just almost pleased expression.

He turns to look at you, eyes softening as he gazes into your dilated pupils. You shift slighting in the passenger’s seat, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. Your heart is ready to jump out of your chest, but you keep your building adrenalin at bay by slowing your breathing. His skin is so pale and translucent in the partially dark vehicle that you have a hard time believing he’s even real; the image of him under the moonlit night is so mesmerizing, he really seemed ethereal.

You feel him leaning towards you and you want to think it’s an illusion that you were having another one of your daydreams about him, but no, the distance between his face and yours was getting smaller, and he wasn’t disappearing. But just as you were about to close your eyes you hear him clear his throat.

“You better get going.” You notice that he’s turned back to facing the front.

“R-right. T-thanks for the ride.” You quickly voice as you dash out of his car.

…

“He drove you home?” Hoseok’s eyes widen in incredulity. “And, you almost kissed?”

“Well, that might have been my imagination.” You bite your lip; unsure if it was too soon to claim something so impossible almost happened.

“Y/N! If he feels the same way, you have nothing to lose.” Hoseok exclaims. “Although being a rational friend, I have to tell you to be careful. I’m not too familiar with relationships between mortals and immortals.”

“Yeah, because they legit never work out and are generally frowned upon in society. Long-term relationships have never even existed before. People have only heard of short flings and stuff. Ugh, I’m probably just delusional anyways. Immortals don’t feel these kinds of emotions, and if anyone would know better, it should be me. I’m studying this for crying out loud!” You lean back in your chair frustrated. “Why am I like this, Hobi?” You look at him with puppy eyes, pouting at how absurd this whole thing was. You were actually hoping that throwing all this out in the open would help you wake up from this dream your were trying to live.

“It can’t be helped.” Hoseok consoles, leaning over and giving you a hug. “And if anything, I’d say he should take responsibility for leading you on.”

“Yeah, he should definitely take responsibility for my raging mortal teenage hormones.” You voice sarcastically.

Over the next few weeks, you continue to spend your days outside of lecture in lab. Yoongi hasn’t spoken about what exactly happened that night and you suspect it was too insignificant for him to even remember, so you obviously don’t bring it up either, not that you were actually considering it, because that wouldn’t be insane at all.

Midterms were coming up anyways, and you didn’t have the time or the energy to dwell over it or the million other nonsensical thoughts that had been popping up every time you saw him, namely trying to read the subtle changes in his expression, deciphering the underlying meaning of his words, or analyzing the tone of his voice.

The stressful testing period came as a relief because you were allowed a week off lab to focus on studying, and for once, you were actually glad you had dozens of chapters to review and papers to write.

“So has he said anything?”

“No.” You drearily reply, gripping onto your coffee mug with both hands as if it were your lifeline. You had stayed up all night reading through your textbook, and clearly just wanted a break from said topic.

“And you haven’t brought it up either?”

“Hobi, why would I do that? I’ve been trying to focus on midterms.” You state, voicing the same words you had been drilling into your head for the past week to get your mind off of that exact topic. “And clearly you should too.”

Hoseok rests his head on his textbook and groans. “Uh, I shouldn’t left all my readings untouched until now.”

…

You find out that all the graduate students and the professors have this tradition of celebrating the semester’s halfway mark after midterms. It wasn’t anything fancy; in fact, the celebration was the same as the kind you were familiar with during undergrad- going to the club and drinking.

“He’s hot, Y/N, you’re so lucky. I should’ve dressed up better or sucked up to him during the lab tours.” Somin says. “It’s a pity.” She sighs, taking another sip of her cocktail.

You smile at her, not knowing how to vocally respond to her blunt statement. You didn’t even know why Yoongi had chosen you out of all people, sure he knew you from before, but that didn’t seem like a good enough reason to make you his research assistant.

“He’s immortal, and you’ve had one-shot Somin, don’t tell me you’re drunk already.” Hoseok utters, taking another sip of his own drink.

“Are the professors here now?” Jiwoo suddenly queries.

“I heard they have their own private club room upstairs. Immortals only.” Kibum replies, flashing everyone a knowing look.

The music changes and the lights are slowly dimmed.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” You announce as everyone begins to head to the dance floor. You didn’t feel like dancing, in fact it was starting to get suffocating in the club for a reason you convinced yourself you didn't know.

“I-I’ll go with you.” Hoseok says, realizing you must not be feeling well. He follows you out the front entrance, despite being a dance lover; he didn’t think it was safe for you to go out alone.

It was nice not having rowdy music pumping into your ears, and it was alleviating to have fresh air to breathe again.

“You ok?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just needed a break from…that” You hint at the activity still going strong in the club.

Hoseok nods in agreement as he walks with you around the building in silence, hoping to find a quieter spot to allow you to clear your thoughts. Just as you round to the corner to the alley, an unexpected sight makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“What is it?” You barely hear Hoseok ask.

There’s a certain type of feeling that washes over you when you’re seeing someone you never thought you would see again, someone you had childishly harbored a secret crush on for several years, and despite having successfully handled those feelings by detaching yourself from the source and moving on, it only takes one glimpse of his familiar figure to open the floodgates. But there’s a different type of feeling when you see said person’s body pressed up against someone else, mouth hungrily devouring the lips of the person he was hovering over, hands in places you don’t even want to go into the details of.

“Who does he think he is?” Hoseok exclaims when he sees the scene splayed out in front of you. “Just because he’s immortal he can play with your feelings and not give a fuck?”

“Yoongi’s not like that” You defend, averting your eyes from the scene you weren’t meant to see. You felt like an intruder. You had no right to judge him, and yet there was still this sickness verging on disgust building in your chest. “L-let’s just go.” You announce, grabbing Hoseok’s arm and dragging him away before the two of you cause a scene.

…

Yoongi pulls away from the female professor.

“Did you hear that?” She asks, still breathing heavily, half-exposed chest rising and falling in rhythm with Yoongi’s own.

“What?” He huffs.

“Voices.” She peers over his shoulder and sees no one in the alleyway or the street it intersects with. “That’s strange. I could’ve sworn I heard a male and female voice.”

Yoongi shrugs. Did it matter? They were outside a club, who was going to judge? And it’s not like they had really started going at each other yet.

“You ready to go?” Yoongi says, hinting at finding a more private place so he can relieve himself the tension in his lower half, something he’s hoping will also free him of his troubled emotions that he’s never had to deal with, not since his cells have biologically stopped aging.

“Yoongi, I am by no means complaining, but what’s with you lately? You’ve never been this, proactive.” She raises an eyebrow.

“It must be the stress.” Yoongi mutters, turning his head and directly his gaze away from her mischievous smile. He knew it was a lie, just a cover up for what was really bothering him lately.

“Stress?” She scoffs, raising her eyebrows and clearly not buying the fib. “Forgive me for being so frank, but you seem sexually frustrated, in a mortal way.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond, mind wandering off to god knows where. He sees your chubby cheeks and puffy lips in the back of his mind, a little girl with wide doe-eyes, as round as flying saucers that sparkled like no other child he had ever seen. Back then it had been a refreshing contrast to his repetitive life, having been stuck at the age of 25 for however long it’s been. He had sincerely enjoyed tutoring you when you were younger, seeing you day in and day out, and watching you learn and soak in all the information he had personally spent time molding just for you. It was a nice break from his daily grind, figuring out the special way that your little brain viewed the world. Your way of thinking was something he had helped develop and refine, and it’s not that you were some prized product he prided himself in creating, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see how you would grow up, wondering if he would ever run into you again, by chance.

So when he saw you on that day during student lab tours, he was astonished for the first time in his long life. He’d go as far as to admit it was the first time he had trouble containing emotions he didn’t think immortal beings were capable of truly feeling. Never in the hundreds of years he has been alive has he ever felt so...overwhelmed by a mixture of things he couldn’t even begin to decipher. You had grown to become such a beautiful woman, facial features matured, formerly chubby body stretched to become long and slender, and yet your untainted eyes had remained the same as you stared at him, unable to hide your own disbelief.

Since then, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

“Yoongi?” He hears the woman call him back into the situation at hand.

“It’s nothing.” He mutters.

“It’s another woman, isn’t it?” She sighs.

Yoongi turns back to her knowing smiling.

“Let me guess, she’s mortal.”

“H-how-”

“It’s that new student of yours isn’t it?”

Yoongi’s jaw drops slightly. Was it that obvious?

“I saw the way you looked at her.” She murmurs. “That day I visited your lab. It’s a look I had never seen on an immortal.”

Yoongi’s not one to admit there are things in the world he doesn’t understand. He’s even more unwilling to admit that it has to do with his own emotions because he’s been studying the psychological states of immortal beings for decades now, and he thought he had most things figured out. He’s one of the most famous professors in said field, and yet he can’t even explain why you make his heart pound half a beat faster than it normally does or why your eyes specifically seem to haunt him in his sleep.

Truthfully, it makes him feel a bit uneasy, and he doesn’t know what to do.

…

You had never felt so reluctant to go to lab than you did the Monday after the events that occurred last weekend. You even put in some serious contemplation into calling in sick, but that would require you to actually speak to Yoongi through the phone and come up with a story that sounded legitimate enough to believe. You also realize that you can’t pretend to be sick forever and will have to face him eventually.

“Deep breathes. Deep breathes.” Why the hell were you being so dramatic? Get it together. He’s your professor.

Hoseok had offered to walk you to lab out of pure concern and although you declined, you were now straight up regretting that decision. You should’ve taken him up on his offer, because the minute you walk in the door, you’re met with the one scene you didn’t want to see.

An empty lab.

Where the fuck is everybody? You’re never the first person to arrive in lab. You’re eyes immediately dart around the room, no a single soul. Guess I’ll come back later. You were just about to turn and leave before-

“Y/N”

The voice makes you freeze in place.

“You’re here early,” Yoongi says, walking up to you.

“I-I…” You avert your eyes. “…it’s 8am” You swallow, wondering why the time you were actually supposed to show up was considered “early”.

“We start an hour later after midterms.” Yoongi responds. “I see you’ve forgotten. Or perhaps you wanted to get started on your experiment early?”

You mentally curse. How the fuck did you forget about the time change?

“I-I’ll c-come back later” You stutter incoherently, still avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi frowns slightly. He takes a step towards you, and the moments he does, you take a step back. He doesn't voice anything at your strangely defensive action, but his jaw tenses at your obvious attempt to keep your distance from him.

“N-no” You lie, biting your lower lip under his detailed scrutiny.

“If there’s something wrong you need to tell me.” His voice is composed, but you can feel the strain in his tone. Actual strain? Or just your mind playing tricks?

Pathetic. You felt utterly pathetic at that moment. What were you supposed to say? I saw you making out with a woman last Saturday, and I’m a total mess because I know I’m out of line to have feelings for you, but I can’t help myself? The preposterousness was laughable, even to you. Because you fucking know things could never work out between you and Yoongi. You know he goes back to her, that beautiful immortal lady that you could only dream of being compared against. Completely and utterly pathetic.

“I’m just still half asleep.” You say, remaining as composed as you can manage. You quickly tell him that you’re going to grab a cup of coffee and come back to lab later, ending the matter then and there. You weren’t in the mood to think about it anymore, and Yoongi, as per usual, doesn’t prod.

…

The next few weeks fly by with you burying yourself in experiments, trying to interact with Yoongi as little as possible, he seemed to be MIA for the most part anyways, except on occasions where he would walk over and ask for updates on your work-which you would briefly explain out of obligation. He doesn’t really bring up your sudden change in demeanor nor does he point out your detached attitude towards him, and all you can do is hope he doesn’t find it strange or disrespectful.

Finals were coming up and the oncoming winter was bringing with it frosty winds and snow covered expanses of land that used to be green. The ground that was once scattered with colorful autumn leaves is now blanketed with untainted ivory sheets, acting as a subtle reminder that time is only observable with the existence of perceptible change.

You find yourself taking a walk around the rather empty campus on a stagnant Sunday afternoon, trying to take your mind off of school and the world and submerging yourself in a type of tranquility only attainable when you are alone. The temperature had gradually been dropping the past month, and you’re grateful that the cold weather allows you to wear multiple layers so you can bury your face in the woolen scarf wrapped around your neck and be unrecognizable to passerbys.

“Y/N?”

You initially don’t respond, thinking the sound was an illusion created by your mind, but the sound of footsteps crunching on loose snow brings your eyes to search across the vast expanse until you spot the dark figure approaching you.

“Professor Min?” You murmur, feeling the mild panic rise in your body as you watched him getting closer and closer. He was dressed in a long black coat that hung down to his knees with a a black turtleneck underneath. The exposed skin of his face and hands were glowing blindingly from the light reflecting off of the bleached earth. You were this close from sinking lower into your scarf, making a run for it, and pretending he had recognized the wrong person, but before you could make a steadfast escape, he’s already standing in front of you.

“Winter is refreshing, isn’t it?” He looks around fondly at the frozen branches of the frosty trees, admiring the stillness of the white scenery.

“Y-yes.”

There’s a short pause. You’re frozen in place, keeping your eyes fixated on anything other than his.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Yoongi tilts his head to look at you with an unreadable expression, gaze intent and emotionless like it always is; yet the subtle falter says he’s struggling to decide what to do.

“No.” You avert your eyes again after glancing at him, not wanting to give away how uncomfortable you were feeling under his scrutiny, but evidently failing.

He sighs. “It seems like you’ve been avoiding me for a while now.”

“I-I…” You’re shocked at how straightforward he was being all of a sudden. He hadn’t brought the matter up in weeks, and you were actually starting to become convinced he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. You also didn’t think you had been so obvious, granted you practically ran away every time he tried to approach you, but in your defense, you were “busy”.

“Is something wrong?” There it is again, the same detached concern of a question he asks you every time he knows you’re struggling with some internal turmoil. You’ve spent enough time with him to become acquainted with how hard it is to get anything past him. Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he’s known you since you were 6, and other times you have these hunches that he somehow understands what you are feeling, despite not being able to feel such emotions himself.

“I’ve been bothered by something, but really it’s nothing and just kind of…personal.” You admit, shaking your head and waving it off, hoping he won’t offer to help and just leave it at that.

“I can help.”

Whether it’s because he has always genuinely wanted to help you or if it’s because he seems to know you better than you know yourself, you’ve always been under the impression that he won’t let it go until you’ve revealed the root of the problem. He’s the first person to ever make you feel comfortable in your own skin, ever since he first told you to not be afraid and you subconsciously decided from then on that you would trust him like a promise that will always shield your frightened heart with solace. And he has proven time and time again that he’ll never judge you for revealing your true self, which is precisely why you’re so powerless when it comes to wearing your heart on your sleeve when he looks you in the eye like you’re the only thing that matters to him in that moment.

The amount of comfort that can be conveyed in a pair of eyes so clear that they glisten with your own reflection is ineffable, and Yoongi’s is urging you to face what’s been bothering you for so long. And although he’s never judged you for spilling anything you’ve kept tucked away in your soul, it takes an insurmountable volume of effort for you to whisper your next words.

“But you’re the root of the problem.” You bite your bottom lip, feeling completely ridiculous that you just admitted something so embarrassing.

Yoongi diverts his eyes the first time, and you’re certain you’ve taken it too far and that, that was definitely the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry Professor Min, I-I have to go.” You quickly stutter, avoiding eye contact and preparing to runaway once again. You know you’re probably being blatantly obvious in your attempts to avoid him now, but you seriously don’t think it’s a good idea to stay because you’ll run the risk of getting the wrong idea again. You turn, but before you can take a single step in the other direction-

“Please, don’t leave.”

“W-what?” You half whisper, convinced that you might just be hearing things.

Yoongi himself can’t even believe he’s let those words escape. He swallows, not knowing if you were thinking he was being completely out of line or if he’s just made matters worse. He had been successful in thinking whatever he felt for you would eventually blow over, spending nights with different immortal women, trying to release whatever had been kept pent up inside, waiting for that foreign feeling to disappear. But none of it was working, and everything he’s been using as a distraction was only going as far as to act as temporary fixes that would never reach the essence of the problem.

He sighs, jaw tensing at your uncomfortable reaction to his statement.

“Just take my hand right now.”

You��re not sure if your ears were tricking you or if Yoongi was speaking in some language you didn’t understand, but you tentatively reach out to grab his hand despite your brain being uncertain of what exactly was going on. At that moment, your mind was completely blank, and you’re body was just acting to its own accord. You know Yoongi can feel your more than obvious tremble, your whole body shaking with apprehension laced confusion. But his hand is so warm, youthful flesh feeling as smooth as it has always looked, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from how beautiful his veins are twirling under his partially transparent skin.

Yoongi almost chuckles a little at your innocent act, how you actually thought he was ordering you to hold his hand when he was just using the phrase figuratively.

“Not literally.” He murmurs gently with that signature half smile. He shakes his head with a sigh but continues to grip onto your hand firmly and turn your body around to face him.

You slowly lift your eyelids to meet his dark, crystal clear orbs. The face of the man that you seemed to know all to well because it has never left the hidden crevices of your mind, not when you were a little girl and certainly not now.

“For as long as you are willing, please stay.” He says even when he knows there will come a day when he’ll be walking this world without you.

“B-but...”

“Ah, I’m being so unclear.” He sighs, and you can almost hear him take a deep breath to calm his own nerves. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve fallen in love with you?” Even though he’s been alive for hundreds of years, the phrase feels unfamiliar-this experience itself is completely foreign to the point where he feels mildly terrified. “And although I still can’t make sense of it completely, I want to be with you.”

“Why?” You hear your own voice distantly, like it didn’t actually emanate from your throat. It wasn’t really a question in search of reason, but rather a reflex of disbelief. You were unable to believe he was doing this, surely he knows that these years you are with him will only feel like an infinitesimal second in the backdrop of his eternal life. Falling in love with you, a mortal, will only cause him pain the long run because his mind will most certainly not be freed from these deeply emotional memories.

“Y-Yoongi” You stutter realizing he’s at loss for words, trying to calm your racing heart. “I love you, but -” It comes out as a faint utter, inaudible had he not been leaning so close to you.

“Because you have gifted me eyes that are capable of producing tears, the audacity to love someone with all of my heart.” He knows the creation of these particular memories will cause him anguish for the rest of his endless days, but he is more than willing to trade such perpetual torment in exchange for these ephemeral years with you. “So please, don’t leave me.” He says again.

You can feel the swelling of your eyes, years of pent up emotions threatening to spill over, but you manage to hold on. “I will stay with you as long as my life will allow.” You whisper, and for once you’re glad your voice is steady, supported by the utmost resolve because it’s what you’ve wanted since you were young. To stay by his side, to be allowed to love him with all of your heart and to have that love reciprocated.

He leans in to kiss you, lips hesitantly tracing over yours, uncertain of his own actions but somehow unable to stop himself. You feel your eyelids close as his gentle motion grows deeper, conveying a sense of need that is interlaced with the sadness that is blossoming in his heart. Yoongi’s lips are tender and warm; his technique is practiced yet strangely clumsy, like he’s afraid to hurt you. He tastes like the freshly fallen snow landing on your cheeks, and for some reason the wetness of salty tears.

Your eyes flutter open, and that’s when you see the source of the saline fluid. He pulls away minimally as you reach up to wipe the teardrop sliding down his cheek, staring at the crystal droplet through your own blurry vision. His lips curve up into a faint smile as his eyes soak in every curve and contour of your face, gaze lingering a bit longer when it reaches your eyes, engraving the evanescent image of you into the part of his memory that he will protect everlastingly.

“I will never forget you.” He murmurs, slowly pulling you into a tight hug.

Min Yoongi knows that he’s kissing your sword. He knows this is the closest he’ll ever come to seeing an end to himself, the shattering of what was once untouchable, the immortality that used to be the object of desire to those who could not obtain it, but Yoongi would give it all away if it meant he could keep you in his heart.

The remnants of what you will one day leave behind will be an eternal reminder of his salvation, the instant in his life where the numbness of endless void was filled with all the stars in the night sky. And however fleeting, he knows it will be the one thing that will never change, because what truly lasts for an eternity is no that which is continually replaced in order to endure but rather those distinctively unforgettable moments that he will hold onto until the end of the universe.

And if there is a meaning to existence, mortal or immortal, Yoongi thinks he has found it.

...

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