Accidentally Yours

Hobi had been watching Yoongi closely for days now, and something was definitely off. His usually calm and composed alpha was… twitchy. Secretive. Distracted. Yoongi had always been a quiet soul, but this was different. He would disappear into his studio for hours, avoid Hobi’s questions with vague smiles, and whenever Hobi tried to corner him, he’d get that mischievous little smirk that made Hobi’s stomach twist in frustration.

“Yoongi,” Hobi finally said one evening, hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Yoongi glanced up from his phone, feigning innocence. “Me? Hide something? Sunshine, you wound me.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Hobi retorted, his tone sharp but his eyes soft. “You’ve been sneaking around, making weird calls, texting Namjoon at random hours. Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Yoongi chuckled, trying to suppress his nerves. “Maybe I just wanted some alone time with Joon. You jealous?”

Hobi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As if. But you’re up to something, Min Yoongi. And I’ll find out what.”

Yoongi only gave him that infuriating smile and stood, brushing past him to drop a quick kiss on his temple. “You’ll know soon enough, my love. Trust me.”

But Hobi wasn’t good at waiting.

The next morning, when Yoongi left early muttering something about “studio errands,” Hobi stood in the middle of their living room, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he muttered to himself. “If he won’t tell me, I’ll figure it out myself.”

He started small. He checked Yoongi’s desk, only to find stacks of music sheets and scribbled lyrics. Nothing unusual. He rifled through the drawers — pens, old receipts, candy wrappers. Normal Yoongi chaos.

When that yielded nothing, Hobi peeked into the studio. The computer screen was dark, the room smelling faintly of coffee and paint thinner from some forgotten project. He searched the shelves, flipping through notebooks and lyric pads, but found nothing except crossed-out lines of songs and random doodles of cats.

Hobi frowned, frustrated.

Later that afternoon, when Yoongi left his phone unattended on the couch, Hobi chewed his lip, glanced around guiltily, and reached for it. His heart hammered as he scrolled through the call log. Namjoon, Seokjin, even Jimin. A few unknown numbers. But none of the messages revealed anything beyond vague phrases like “It’s ready” or “Tomorrow works.”

“What the hell are you planning, Yoongi?” Hobi whispered to himself, flopping onto the couch in defeat. He felt silly, almost childish, snooping around like this. But the secrecy was driving him insane. Yoongi had never been this cagey before.

That night, when Yoongi slipped into bed late, smelling faintly of rain and something floral, Hobi curled against him with a pout. “You’re hiding things from me,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Yoongi’s shirt.

Yoongi kissed the top of his head and murmured, “Patience, sunshine. Just a little more patience.”

Hobi huffed, pretending to fall asleep, but inside he was burning with curiosity.

Still, no matter how much he snooped or questioned, Yoongi was a locked safe. Every path Hobi took led to nothing. And maybe, just maybe, that was why when the truth finally came, when Yoongi led him to that meadow under the rainbow and knelt before him with a ring that was the embodiment of his dreams, Hobi broke down completely. Because the man who had been hiding secrets wasn’t hiding betrayal, but a promise — a forever.

Hobi hated surprises. Or at least, that’s what he told everyone. Deep down, he secretly loved them, especially if they came from Yoongi. But this—this waiting, this secrecy—was gnawing at him. Still, when Yoongi came to him a few days later with a small grin and asked him to go on a little outing, Hobi agreed.