Watermelon Sugar | MYG

8

"You've been awfully quiet this afternoon," Yoongi leans back in his seat, giving you a suspicious look. "Why do I have a feeling that I know exactly what it's about?"

He probably does, honestly. The day had started out in the most amazing way - your legs tangled with his, his hands in your hair, and his mouth on yours. You haven't left the bed until the early afternoon, even going as far to eat your breakfast in it, keeping it cheesy to the maximum. He had made sure to fulfill his promise, not only once, making you moan out his name more times than you could remember. It was good, it was amazing and by the time the two of you had to get dressed and go to catch a damn boat back to Skiathos, you were wishing there was a way for you to never leave that damn studio.

On the boat ride back, he kept his hand in yours, stealing kisses whenever he felt like it, which was quite often. When you sat down in this restaurant without bothering to return to your villa first, he was still looking at you with fondness, with a feeling you couldn't name but could very much relate to. There was no logical reason for your mood to drop, but it did. Instead of living in this exact moment and enjoying it to the fullest, you've gone ahead and started thinking of the end of your stay in Skiathos and the end of this, whatever this actually is.

You couldn't hide it from Yoongi, of course you couldn't. It would be idiotic to try and fool him, which is why you don't even bother with it, deciding to answer him honestly.

"I guess I'm just overwhelmed at how bittersweet this whole thing is," you began. "We have, what, five days before you fly back home? Last night, we talked about how it would be nice to have something without any expectations or expiration dates on it and we end up with a mess that includes both."

"You do have a point," he agrees, pausing to reach for his glass of white wine and sip on it. "We'll be leaving Skiathos very soon but that doesn't have to imply that that's our expiration date. I know I'm contradicting myself a little bit here given how many times I've done that in the last 24 hours, but I don't just want to fuck you on a vacation," he shrugs, laughing at his own words. "The expiration date doesn't have to be the end of my trip here, if you're catching my drift."

You do, and you'd be lying to yourself if you were to say that that wasn't something you were hoping for. "We do live an hour drive away from one another, don't we?"

"We do," he nods, placing his hand over your own resting on the table. Watching as he laces your fingers, you smile, allowing yourself to push the tiny feeling of pending doom away, changing it for cautious optimism. "I think it'd be a damn shame not to try and date you."

"Yikes, you really have it bad, don't you?" you tease him, knowing damn well that he's aware of the way you're hiding the giddiness. Your face can't hide it though, your heated cheeks proof enough of how his words are really making you feel.

"I kind of really do, yeah," he tilts his head, smiling at you affectionately. "I'm not some... all-knowing guru or a fortune teller. I have no idea what the future will bring or what the expiration date is if there even is one. But there's one thing that I'm sure of and can promise you - we won't end here. The only way our story ends on Skiathos is if you want it to and I don't think that you do."

"You're right," you admit, squeezing his hand just a little bit tighter. "I'd be willing to drive if you are."

"If an hour-long drive is all it takes to get to you, consider it done," he promises.

With the talk out of the way, you allow the hope to take over you completely. Yoongi had said so himself, it's impossible to know where this will end, if it even has a proper end at all. And there's no use in pondering over it, not when you both have hopes, plans even, to keep this going.

When you return to the villa, he doesn't stop at his door. Wordlessly, he follows you to yours and waits for you to unlock it, ignoring the very obvious questioning look that you give him. He puts his backpack down, amongst your things, as if it belongs there.

In a weird way, it does. You don't get to question it or comment on it, because the next moment, he is kissing you, not even giving you a chance to lock the studio door properly.

Spending another night together without a wink of sleep, you watch the sunrise from your balcony, leaning onto the same railing where he had left you a cup of coffee days ago. With his arms around you, he nuzzles at your neck, leaving tiny pecks on your skin.

"You know, I don't think I will ever be able to eat watermelons, hear a shitty song, or smell sunscreen without thinking of you."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" you let out a quiet laugh at his words.

"A compliment of the best kind," he promises, grabbing a hold of your chin to turn your face towards him gently to kiss you. Slow, gentle, and full of emotions that surpass a summer fling.

The End