Pop Star || Yoongi x Reader

41. Are You Good at This?

If last week was a drag, then this one goes by in a flash. Before you know it, you're in a back alley in Daegu Town in the middle of a Tuesday. It's pretty windy here, even the sun can't keep the chill from getting under your skin. On top of that, you told Mr Kim to drop you at the wrong corner. Having lost your way, you called up Yoongi and now you're arguing about -

"Marshmallows are a fruit," Yoongi says with emphasis.

"No - they're made of sugar or something. I'm sure of it!"

You are also sure that this is the right alley for YumYum Chikin. You've followed his directions but all the greasy doors around you look equally familiar.

"They grow on trees, Y/N. haven't you seen those people in movies roasting them?"

"No - wait, what?" There's a faint memory in your head of some animated film where characters did roast something white. But what was it?

"Believe me," Yoongi says, smirking.

"Absolutely not. It makes no sense!"

"Why? Just because you haven't seen it doesn't mean it's too absurd to exist!"

"That's beside the point -"

"Let's google it," he says, "and stop walking so confusedly. I can see you."

"Where - oh!" you spot him leaning from a terrace above on your right. You find the dark metal door - but it's either stuck or locked.

"Don't break the door, Y/N, I'm coming," he mutters. Meanwhile, you snap open your Samsung flip phone to google marshmallows. You're arguing with Yoongi all right, but you're anything but irritated. This is what you call a comfort argument - eating someone's head because it feels good.

The door groans open, and you start talking without looking up.

"Hah! See - I'm right. It is made of sugar and gelatin. Grows on trees as if!" You snort.

When you finally look up, it's the heavy-set Ahjusshi staring at you. Shit.

"Mian-hamnida..." you apologize and greet him with a bow. He brushes the apology away with a hand.

"Come!" he says, smiling in a kind, grandparently way, and then he returns to the dark end of the corridor. Yoongi is right behind him, grinning lightly in a classic black hoodie.

He takes your phone from your hands when you try to get past him in the tiny space.

"Aish..." he mutters looking at the search results. He runs a hand through his flaming orange hair. He's grown it longer, something that you didn't notice the last time you met him.

"Oh wait - it does grow on trees." He laughs.

"What! Where?" You snatch your phone back.

Apparently, the modern-day marshmallow evolved from a sweet dish made using a plant of the same name. Your eyes grow wide at the information.

"I had no idea," you say.
"Me neither," he laughs.

"I'm telling you, Yoongi, your phone's gonna fall on your nose for bullshitting people..."

He gives you a cheeky grin, "come on, we have to clean the junk upstairs."

"Oh but - I didn't see Imo?!" you say, searching past Yoongi to where the corridor ends in a door to the kitchen and main restaurant. "Imo is out," he answers. He feels nice that you remember her and that you care and that you came and he suddenly realizes he needs to stop staring at you and do something.

"Wait up," he says, going and returning from the kitchen in a flash with an apron. "You're going to ruin that sweater," he says as he opens up the apron to its full length. You're half anticipating him to tie it around you when you respond coyly, "oh, this pink thing? It's old - I honestly don't mind - oi!" you scowl when he drops the apron on your head. "I swear, Yoongi, one of these days you're going to get it!" you snap.

"Yeah? Can't wait to see what you can do," he murmurs and walks past you - very, very gently brushing against you - to the bottom of the metal staircase that leads to the upper floor. The whole moment shuts you up for the time being.

You're glad you don't have to work in the kitchen. The smell of freshly fried chicken wafting from there is too much for your diet starved self. You follow him up the narrow steep steps.

"We have to sort through all this?" you gape at the sight of the loft.

It is even more cramped than before. The table and chair, where you had eaten before, have juice cartons stacked up. The rest of the room is the same - piles of cartons, crates of grimy soju bottles, odd-looking appliances and upturned chairs. There's just a few feet of space left to stand.

"Please tell me you are good at these things," Yoongi pleads.

[Got back to see soo many of you reading this book like -WHOA? WHAT? FOR REAL? And your comments are legit lovely and HILARIOUS. Aaaah, keep making yourself heard in the comments and votes goooo spaammmmm! This story is ending soon anyway. P.S - Next chapter will be out on 10th Feb '22]