Min YoonGi is the introvert collage student who goes unnoticed and fawns over the campus social butterfly Y/N; meanwhile Y/N is falling in love with a charming character online known as Suga - the very same introvert she has no idea exists.
A shoulder knocked into YoonGi's unintentionally, an automatic "sorry" followed in reply as the person kept their head stuck in their own thoughts and carried on walking to wherever - completely unaware of his existence, like most other students.
He dipped his head down and continued on his way to the music department, hugging his books closer to his chest. Just two more minutes of walking and you'll make it to the studio, Min YoonGi. Stay strong, and please, for the love of god - no walking into any lamp posts.
A bell jingled gleefully, the front door to the campus coffee shop opened and closed again as a group of students, presumably around his age, walked out. They grasped their cups of hot drinks to warm up their hands from the bitter autumn cold, steam heating up one of the students glasses as she took a sip from it.
"Y/N, you look cute today!" A random friend of yours cooed at you, bopping you on the top of the head.
YoonGi snapped up instantly and glanced around looking for you, feet now stopping in their tracks at the mention of your name. When he finally found you, it was way too hard for him to look away.
You spun around, playful eyes sparkling and hair sprawled out over your scarf and thick hood. You flashed a smile of gratitude to the compliment, waving too, and turning back around. Only, your eyes caught with YoonGi's momentarily as he pursed my lips tightly and quickly flicked his head back to the direction had been heading in; feet had finally decided it was a good time to carry on moving.
That was close. Did she see me? What if she saw me staring all along and was pretending not to notice? What if-
The air in his lungs got winded out once he managed to walk into a street lamp.
He rubbed his forehead and winced, checking around to make sure no one had seen him walk into a street light. He made awkward eye contact with a redheaded girl who held her hand over her mouth in attempts to hide her laughs as she scurried past me. However, the half crescent moon shape of her laughing eyes said differently.
His head ducked down for the n'th time this morning; can I just teleport to the studio or something? Please?
He ran just to get out of the embarrassing reality and slipped into another one once he entered the music department.
Finding the one of many usually empty recording studios, he went into the one he unofficially owned and flicked the light on. Plonking down on the leather office chair, he shrugged his hoodie off and threw it into one of the corners of the room, dismaying it and it's plain personality, along with my many, many, many books.
He pulled his phone out of his jean pocket, opening the front camera up and checking his reflection in it - sorting the little out-of-place hairs - then grabbed some makeup out of his backpack and applied some.
Picking his phone up once more, he turned his data on and smirked as the notification "ping" sound repeated. Firstly, he checked twitter, answering a few private messages on it from online admirers before growing tired and opening the camera app.
He ruffled my hair up a bit then tried out a few different poses and snapped them - including the famous fuckboy smirk, though he cringed inwardly and decided not to post that one - eventually settling on a specific one and posted it on Instagram, reloading his profile page a few times after it had posted and reading some of the new comments.
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He both laughed and winced at Jimin's comment, then caught sight of the one beneath it. Y/N commented on his post. Y/N. Commented. On. His. Post. Well... this is new.
His smirk faded into a mortified expression. What if you thought his caption was a desperate cry for attention? Or even worse - if you think he's a gigantic fuck boy!
Well, your name is sugadaddi and you put a winky-face with a double chin in the captions, so yeah, she's going to think you're a fuckboy.
Groaning at his self-arrogance in annoyance, he clicked the homepage button and then the direct messages button - scrolling until a familiar username printed on the screen. Holy shit. You messaged him two minutes ago.
What do I do? Do I leave it for a while so I don't look stalkerish or shall I just open it straight away? What if-
His finger spazzed and clicked the message. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He took no time to waste in reading what you'd sent:
Y/Nie
so u produce music??
Quickly, he started typing a reply:
sugadaddi
haha, yep! why're you asking???
He analysed the text before sending it, eventually deciding to send it after taking out one of the question marks and the "haha". He knew that you would have started your first class around about now so he wasn't expecting another reply for an hour or so.
Sighing, he turned his phone off once more, placing it face down on the desk and starting up the computer. He grabbed the set of headphones and adjusted them, preparation to get back into the song he was in the middle of producing.
