You met yoongi on a day that didn’t feel like it was meant for anything special. You were just going about your life—head down, heart guarded, trying to move through the noise without drawing too much attention. But there he was, in his quiet way, like he was sent to remind you that softness could still exist in this world.

He didn’t come with some grand entrance or game. He was different. Gentle. Patient in a way that felt rare, like he actually wanted to know you, not just skim the surface. He never rushed you, never made you feel like you had to be more than you were. And for the first time in a long time, someone saw you—not the broken parts you tried to hide, but the whole of you. And he made you feel seen without saying much at all.

Yoongi showed love without limits. Not just to you, but to everyone around him. It wasn’t loud or performative—it was natural. Intentional. He held space for people, and when it came to you, he held it even tighter. You weren’t used to that. Weren’t used to someone choosing you in ways that didn’t hurt.

You’ve got your flaws. Sometimes you overthink, shrink yourself, question your worth. There were days you didn’t feel like enough, like all you brought to the table was heaviness. But yoongi? He never flinched. He looked you dead in the eye and reminded you that you weren’t “too much”—you were just right. That you’re not nothing. You’re worth everything.

And slowly, because of him, you started to believe it. You started to love yourself a little more. Not because he completed you, but because he showed you how to see yourself the way he sees you—worthy, lovable, and already enough.

⸻

You’re sitting on the fire escape, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves stretched over your hands. The city moves below you—cars honking, people yelling, music leaking out of cracked windows. But all of it feels far away, like background noise to a moment you don’t quite know how to name.

Behind you, the window creaks open.

“You cold?” yoongi’s voice—soft, familiar.

You don’t answer right away. You just stare out at the sky, the kind that’s more gray than blue, like it can’t decide who it wants to be.

He climbs out beside you anyway, careful like always, holding two mugs. He hands you one—your favorite tea, still steaming—and sits close enough for your arms to touch.

“You were quiet today,” he says, not pressing, just noticing.

You shrug. “Just one of those days.”

He nods like he gets it. Like he’s had those days too. And maybe that’s why it’s easy with him—he doesn’t try to fix you, just meets you where you are.

“I ever tell you how much I love you like this?” he asks suddenly.

You look at him, confused. “Like what?”

“Like this,” he says, motioning to all of you. “When you’re unsure. When you don’t say much. When you don’t feel like shining but you still show up. I love that version of you. Just as much as the loud, silly, fire-ass one you try to be for everybody else.”

You blink, not expecting that. Not used to someone loving you in your shadows.

“I don’t always feel like I’m worth that,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

yoongi sets his mug down and turns to you fully. “I know. And I’m not here to argue with you. But I am here to remind you. As many times as it takes.”

You try to look away, but he tilts your chin so your eyes meet his.

“You are not nothing,” he says, slow and sure. “Not to me. Not to this world. You’re everything, and then some. And I’m lucky I get to love you.”

The air sits still between you for a moment. Your throat tightens. Your chest aches—but not the bad kind. The kind that comes when someone reaches into the parts you don’t show and says, I see you. And I still want you.

You lean into him, forehead resting against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you like he was made to hold your pieces.

And for once, you let him.