SugaJin

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"I want to be, like, that guy that everyone knows," Yoongi says. He's sprawled out across Seokjin's bed on his back, eyes closed. Seokjin sits at the foot of the bed with his math textbook in his lap, drawing spirals in the margins of his notes. "Did I tell you that song I put up had a thousand downloads?"

"Only about five times," Seokjin says, without malice. He's happy Yoongi's happy, but he would be happier if his math homework was done.

"What about you, hyung? What are your big plans?"

"I don't know. College, army. My dad wants me to be a dentist."

Yoongi makes a noise. Seokjin imagines his face, nose wrinkled in judgment. "Dude, that's so lame."

Seokjin frowns at his notebook. "I think I would be good in the army. I could be a sergeant."

"You'll never get chicks if you're in the army." The sheets rustle as Yoongi flips onto his stomach, his voice closer to Seokjin's ear now. "You can be my manager and I'll let you have my rejects."

Chicks, Seokjin thinks. Right.

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