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"Hey, Yoongi... wait for me!" Seokjin’s voice, rich and resonant, cut through the brisk autumn air, reaching the ears of the boy ahead. Yoongi paused mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, his expression a delicate blend of curiosity and surprise. The wind tousled his dark hair, and for a moment, he looked as if he belonged to another world, a realm where such beauty could only be imagined. His large, expressive eyes flickered with recognition, though a haze of uncertainty clouded his memory. He knew this man—knew him from somewhere, some fleeting moment, yet the details remained elusive.
Seokjin, with a grin that could outshine the sun, closed the distance between them with graceful strides, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around them. Students who had been milling about suddenly found their gazes drawn to the striking figure, his confident aura making their hearts skip a beat. Seokjin's smile was a force of nature, one that could make the strongest waver, and Yoongi was no exception. To say he wasn’t captivated would be a gross understatement.
"Umm, hey..." Yoongi stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The nerves bubbled up within him as if he had suddenly been thrust onto a stage with every spotlight blinding him at once. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t accustomed to being the center of anyone’s world, let alone the entire crowd now watching their every move.
Sensing the tension in Yoongi's posture, Seokjin’s gaze softened. The playful glint in his eyes gave way to something deeper, more caring. Without a word, he reached out, gently enveloping Yoongi’s cold hands in his own warm grasp. The gesture was simple yet profound, like a silent promise of protection amidst the chaos. Yoongi’s eyes widened in surprise, a slight tremble coursing through him at the unexpected intimacy.
“Your hands are freezing,” Seokjin remarked, his tone gentle, almost chiding. He began rubbing Yoongi’s palms, the friction bringing warmth not just to his skin but to something deeper within him, something he couldn’t quite name. “Let’s go out,” Seokjin suggested, his voice carrying a tenderness that belied his earlier bravado.
“Go out? In what sense?” Yoongi’s voice quivered, uncertainty lacing his words.
Seokjin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Without warning, he swept Yoongi off his feet, quite literally, throwing the smaller boy over his shoulder with ease. The action was swift, playful, and entirely unexpected. Yoongi gasped, his hands flailing as he attempted to resist the sudden shift in gravity. His tiny fists made futile attempts to punch Seokjin’s broad back, but his protests were more out of shock than anger.
“I can walk, you know!” Yoongi’s voice was high-pitched, his indignation almost childlike as he squirmed in Seokjin’s firm hold.
