Just A Few Numbers Away

Chapter 78

The Aftermath of a Promise

​The morning sun over Hannam-dong was soft, filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite in pale, golden streaks.

Beyond the glass, the city was already churning, but inside, the room was a silent testament to the night before.

The expansive suite, usually a masterpiece of minimalist order, was now a beautiful wreckage.

The silk duvet was a tangled mountain of grey and charcoal, half-fallen off the edge of the bed.

Their clothes were scattered across the floor, mostly pooled in a dark, discarded heap around the base of the bed-a silent map of exactly where their restraint had finally snapped.

​In the center of that wreckage, Aen stirred, her skin warm against the high-thread-count sheets.

The heavy, possessive weight of Yoongi's arm was draped over her waist, anchoring her to him even in sleep.

Her phone sat dark and silent on the nightstand, while his remained far away on the kitchen's marble counter-completely out of reach of the storm brewing in his inbox.

Outside these soundproofed walls, the world was in a frenzy, but here, in the golden light of the suite, there was only the steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing against her shoulder.

Then, the silence shattered.

​On the nightstand, Aen's phone began to vibrate, the sharp, repetitive chime of her morning alarm cutting through the quiet like a blade.

It was a cold reminder of the world outside-of work they both had waiting for them.

​Aen groaned softly, the sound muffled by the pillow, as she felt Yoongi's grip tighten instinctively around her waist.

He didn't wake, but he pulled her closer, burying his face deeper into the crook of her neck as if he could physically shield them both from the start of the day.

​She reached out a heavy arm, her fingers fumbling across the wood surface until they found the device.

With a practiced swipe, she silenced the noise, but the damage was done.

The screen stayed lit for a second longer, and even through bleary eyes, she could see the sheer volume of notification banners stacked like a deck of cards across her lock screen.

Aen didn't look at the messages.

She didn't want to know yet.

Instead, she set the phone face-down on the nightstand and turned in the circle of Yoongi's arms to face him.

​He was still deep in the pull of sleep, his features relaxed in a way the public never got to see.

The "Idol" was gone, replaced by the man who had called her home just hours before.

Softly, her fingers traced the line of his jaw before drifting upward, caressing the dark, messy strands of his hair that were splayed across the charcoal pillowcase.

​"Yoon," she whispered, her voice raspy from sleep.

She nudged her nose against his.

"Jagi... wake up. We have to move."

​Yoongi didn't open his eyes.

Instead, a low, rumbling groan vibrated in his chest, and his arm tightened like a vice around her waist, dragging her flush against him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled and thick with a heavy, morning gravel.

​"No," he managed, his breath warm against her skin.