It isn’t necessarily shock that Yoongi feels as the bus comes to a complete stop and he glances up, just in time to see one of his neighbors boarding the vehicle. The feeling in his chest is more akin to mild surprise, perhaps even bewilderment, as he witnesses his neighbor briefly search for a place to sit before quickly giving up and choosing to remain standing, instead.
He doesn’t usually take the bus. At least, not that Yoongi can remember—not that Yoongi’s memory is completely reliable, either, since he realizes as the bus begins to move again that he’s not even totally sure that he remembers the guy’s name.
Jung… something. Jung Hyungsu? Hansung? Hoseok?
Yeah, it’s definitely Hoseok, Yoongi thinks, and hopes. They haven’t spoken in quite some time, and it would be the most embarrassing thing in the world if he accidentally calls the guy by the wrong fucking name. Especially since Yoongi’s been living in the apartment building for a couple of months and he thinks that he should know the name of at least one neighbor by now.
Even if that same neighbor used to drive him up the walls.
(Their initial meeting hadn’t been particularly pleasant, as far as Yoongi is concerned. He’d only been living in his new place for three days when the noise began, like a demon from hell that waited for him to get comfortable before completely wrecking his shit.
He had moved into the small loft on the first floor of the building, which had previously been vacant for nearly a year, the landlord had told him. It was cheap, in good condition, and best of all, just close enough for Yoongi to commute to his university without having to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning. He put a deposit down without hesitation. This place was a total steal, after all.
Being on the first floor, it was only natural that he’d hear certain… noises. It was natural and it wouldn’t have bothered him, if not for the fact that whoever lived on the second floor didn’t know the meaning of being discreet. From the earliest hours of the morning ‘til the latest hours of the night, Yoongi was plagued by what sounded like elephants trotting around. For several weeks, not a day went by where his thoughts and his work weren’t interrupted by his neighbors’ stomping, jumping, laughter, and everything in between.
“That’s not even the worst part, either.” Yoongi had often complained to his friend and former roommate, since he usually found himself visiting his old residence just to escape the constant noise. “Wanna know the worst part?”
“I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me anyway,” Seokjin replied, amused. And he was right.
“These people have sex more times in a single week than I take shits. Not even joking.”
“Hey, I’m eating!” his friend whined with a mouthful of sandwich; admittedly, it slightly improved Yoongi’s sour mood. “Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” Yoongi had said. “Anyway, I’m surprised that their bed hasn’t broken yet. I can just imagine it crashing through the floor and crushing my poor, helpless body, killing me instantly.”
Seokjin had only shook his head and looked at Yoongi for a short moment, a certain implication in his eyes that was easily recognizable, given the amount of time that they had known each other.
“You know,” He began in that all-knowing tone of voice that Yoongi disliked so much, “for all the complaining that you do, it doesn’t make sense that you haven’t even tried nicely asking them to be quiet. Unless you have?”
In the brief delay that followed his friend’s question, Yoongi thought about the time that he actually had tried to put an end to his own torture. He thought about how it had been midnight, and though he usually stayed awake much longer, he had decided to get some rest after a particularly shitty day. Of course, that didn’t end up happening, when his lovely neighbors began their usual routine of jumping around like a couple of hyperactive lunatics.
It had been the last straw. Yoongi couldn’t take it anymore, refused to, and so he put on his slippers and stomped up the staircase to the second floor. He didn’t exactly bang on the door with his fist, but he also didn’t knock politely. He had never been the type of person to raise his voice at anyone for anything, but in that moment, he was fully prepared to utilize every curse word in the book if it meant getting his point across.
That didn’t end up happening, either. As soon as that door came open and his eyes met a pair of big, bright ones for the very first time, Yoongi couldn’t even remember his own damn name for a moment there.
“Yes?” said the man, whose mouth formed into a friendly grin. He ran a hand through his dark hair that was damp with sweat, his chest expanding with every inhalation. In the background, catchy pop music was playing. He must have been dancing.
At midnight, of all times.
Yoongi cleared his throat and reminded himself of why he was standing there instead of sleeping in the comfort of his own bed. It didn’t matter how pretty this guy was—his mere existence was a fucking nuisance.
“I, uh, I live downstairs,” he had said, averting his gaze to look anywhere but in front of himself. “Right beneath you, actually.”
“Oh,” said his neighbor, and then a gasp, “Oh! Sorry, am I making too much noise? Shit, my bad, man. That one’s been empty for so long, I didn’t know someone had moved into it. Jung Hoseok, by the way.”
He spoke faster than Yoongi’s sleep deprived brain could handle, and then suddenly they’re shaking hands and the guy is promising to keep the noise down from then on. A few moments after that, Yoongi was entering his own apartment again. He fell into bed face first and welcomed the sleep that consumed him, naively believing that he’d never have to deal with that pesky noise ever again.
He was wrong, of course. Very wrong. But after that night, he seemed to run into Hoseok by coincidence every once in a while. It usually happened in the mail room or the laundry room. Each time, Hoseok would smile at him and say hello, as if he wasn’t the sole reason for Yoongi’s constant torment. Still, it was incredibly hard to ignore him, so Yoongi didn’t.
Then, as if the world had suddenly come to a standstill, the noise finally stopped one day.
One day turned into one week. One week turned into several, and then a month had passed without a single restless night of Yoongi trying desperately to ignore the fact that his neighbors were fucking like animals directly above him.
Only then did he allow himself to celebrate. Only then did he fully believe that he had finally been freed of this torture, and that he wouldn’t have to get on his hands and knees to beg Seokjin about letting him move back in.
But the celebrations didn’t last for long, of course. The noise had become almost nonexistent, but Yoongi didn’t question why until he actually began to pay attention to his surroundings. He hadn’t crossed paths with Hoseok as often as before, but when they did, Hoseok no longer smiled at him. He no longer said hello, nor did he speak at all.
He looked miserable, to be completely honest. Yoongi couldn’t figure out why.
It wasn’t any of his business, he reasoned. So, he never asked.)
It still isn’t any of Yoongi’s business, but Hoseok still looks pretty miserable, standing here on the overpacked bus, squished between two much taller people. Yoongi bites his bottom lip and averts his gaze to the window, watching the lights of other cars that speed by and trying to focus on the music playing through his headphones.
It's none of his business.
But his eyes wander back over to that familiar face and—well, just because it’s none of Yoongi’s business doesn’t mean that he can’t be a decent person. It doesn’t mean that he can’t be a polite neighbor by offering the empty seat next to him.
“Hoseok,” he calls out to the other man, still hoping like hell that it’s the right name, and feeling his cheeks heat up as the people sitting nearby turn their heads to look at him.
After the second attempt, Hoseok finally turns his head to look at Yoongi, too. His eyes widen in recognition. When Yoongi points to the vacant spot beside him, indicating that Hoseok should come over and claim it, his previously downturned mouth forms into the smallest grin.
It’s still the biggest smile that Yoongi has seen from him in quite a long time, so he’ll take it as a win.
Seconds later, Hoseok plops down into the seat next to Yoongi with a sigh of relief, now that he’s free from his previous spot. Yoongi pauses his music at the same time that Hoseok begins to speak.
“Thanks,” he says, and he sounds genuinely grateful. “I seriously thought I might suffocate back there.”
Yoongi tries to appear nonchalant with his shrug, but his shy smile betrays the action entirely.
He asks, “You don’t usually take this bus, do you?”
Hoseok looks surprised at first, but then he shakes his head at the question.
“I don’t,” he admits, eyes focused on his hands in his lap as he rubs them back and forth along his jeans to warm them up. “I didn’t used to ride the bus at all, actually, but that was back when I had a car to use.”
“Yeah? Did you sell it or something?”
“Well… not exactly.”
Strangely enough, he doesn’t say anything else on the subject, so Yoongi doesn’t ask and simply resumes listening to his music.
It isn’t any of his business, after all.
The slightly awkward silence that follows suit is enough to remind Yoongi that making small talk isn’t his greatest area of expertise. What makes it especially difficult is that he doesn’t know a single thing about Jung Hoseok, other than that he enjoys dancing at midnight instead of sleeping like a normal person, and also that he’s capable of making inhumane noises when—
Fuck, okay, now is not the time to recall the sounds of a creaky old bed and shameless moaning. Hell, it’s not even Yoongi’s fault that he knows what this complete stranger sounds like in bed. If anything, Hoseok is the one who should be feeling embarrassed. Not Yoongi. Definitely not Yoongi.
Heat rises to Yoongi’s cheeks again when he sees from the corner of his eyes that Hoseok is rather blatantly staring at him. An irrational thought passes through his mind: Hoseok has the ability to read minds. It’s gone in an instant, but he still wonders.
“What are you listening to?” Hoseok asks suddenly.
“Oh.” He pauses, then, “Who’s that?”
For the first time in the past five minutes, Yoongi turns his head to face him fully. What’s even more appalling than the question itself is the sheer look of ignorance on Hoseok’s (annoyingly pretty) face. Yoongi tugs the headphones down so that they rest at his neck.
“I… is that a joke?”
“What? Is it a popular group or something?”
“No, it’s not a group. It’s a he, one rapper.” When Hoseok fails to react to any of those words, Yoongi shakes his head in disgust. “Wow, okay. You know what, I change my mind. You can’t sit here anymore.”
It’s clearly not a joking matter at all, yet Hoseok literally giggles like a child. If anything, it offends Yoongi even more.
“Well, sorry that I’ve never heard of your precious underground rappers,” Hoseok retorts, a certain sass in his tone that Yoongi hasn’t heard before this moment.
“He’s not underground!” he scoffs back, though it comes out as more of a whine. “He’s an American rapper and he’s one of the legends, for your information. You should at least be more respectful.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“Is he as good as Eminem?”
“He’s better. A lot better.”
“What about… ‘N Sync?”
“Or the Backstreet Boys?”
At this point, Yoongi is fully aware that Hoseok is only fucking with him now. Partially because no one can be this simple minded, but mostly because Hoseok fails to contain the shit-eating grin plastered to his face. It’s obvious that he takes enjoyment in getting under Yoongi’s skin, which is so unfair, because this is the longest conversation that they’ve ever had and he has already exposed Yoongi’s weakness. But Yoongi can’t help that he’s somewhat of a music elitist, okay.
“Please stop,” he half suggests, half begs.
“Oh! And the Spice Girls, though they’re not American, but… still, they’re totally legends.”
“I can’t listen to this anymore.” Yoongi practically snatches the headphones from his neck in his haste to get Hoseok to shut up. He offers them with pleading eyes, though his tone is more demanding than anything. “Here, you heathen. You need to be enlightened.”
With the way that their conversation has been going so far, Yoongi expects resistance. Instead of showing any resistance at all, Hoseok obediently takes the headphones and puts them over his ears. Yoongi rewinds the song on his phone before pressing play again, his stomach suddenly filling with nerves. He feels strangely relieved, when Hoseok immediately begins bobbing his head to the music, his mouth curving into another grin.
Sitting close like this, it’s the first time that Yoongi notices the little mole on his upper lip.
“I like this one,” says Hoseok, still bobbing his head and making sound effects to the beat of the music. “He really does sound good, even though I can’t understand everything he’s saying. His flow is epic, though.”
“Exactly,” Yoongi agrees, beaming with pride. “This isn’t even my favorite song of his, but it’s still a good one.”
“Can I listen to your favorite, then?”
“Sure, give me a second.”
Before Yoongi can glance down at his phone to change the song, he realizes that the bus is getting extremely close to where he needs to get off in order to continue home on foot. He quickly reaches out to press one of the red stop buttons, and is filled with relief when the bus begins to slow down, meaning that he isn’t too late. He never meant to get so distracted.
“Oh, crap. This is my stop, too,” says Hoseok; though it should be obvious, seeing as how they live in the same building.
Just before the bus comes to a stop, Hoseok removes the headphones and holds them out for Yoongi to take. His mouth has formed into that little smile again, the same one that had made an appearance when Yoongi first offered the seat to him. The first smile that Yoongi has seen on that face in over a month.
He doesn’t know what comes over him when he says, “Keep them. You’re walking back home, aren’t you?”
Again, Hoseok looks surprised. He nods just a moment later.
“So, keep them. We can walk together and… you can listen to the song on the way,” Yoongi explains.
He can only hope that he doesn’t sound as lame as he feels, can only hope that his blush isn’t too obvious in the bright lights of the bus. He doesn’t meet Hoseok’s eyes and he waits for the moment that his offer will be politely declined, but that doesn’t end up happening.
“Okay,” says Hoseok, and Yoongi hears the smile in his voice before he sees it on his face. “But it better be as good as you say that it is.”
He stands up from his seat, then, prompting Yoongi to do the same. As they make their way towards the front of the bus, he leans forward just enough to speak directly into Hoseok’s ear.
“Trust me. It’ll rock your socks off.”
He knows that that was definitely lame. It’s even lamer than lame and all of lame’s cousins, but he also decides that it’s worth it, when Hoseok laughs loudly enough to get the other passengers’ attention.
It’s a short walk from the bus stop to their apartment building, but the reason that it takes them twice as long as usual to get there is because they take their sweet time. While walking and talking and listening to the music, Yoongi learns two more things about Hoseok.
Firstly, he has an even better taste in music than Yoongi had originally believed, and it feels surprisingly good to know that they appreciate some of the same sounds and musicians.
Secondly, it turns out that Hoseok has actually been living alone for over a month now, which may be one of the reasons that it hasn’t been so noisy up there on the second floor.
It’s all starting to make sense now: the abrupt silence, the look of pure misery on Hoseok’s usually bright face, the lack of smiles and polite greetings. Yoongi can only assume that it must’ve been a pretty terrible breakup.
He reminds himself that it still isn’t any of his business, but he can’t stop himself from wondering.
“Well, this is me.”
Hoseok comes to a stop in front of the old staircase that leads to the second floor of the building. He spins around on his heels to face Yoongi again, his thin lips curved into another little smile. This time when he offers to return the headphones to their rightful owner, Yoongi takes them.
“I guess I’ll see you around?” he says, as he takes the first step towards his own apartment. “Thank you again for letting me sit next to you on the bus, Yoongi-ssi. I know that I haven’t been the most tolerable person to live beneath…”
“Hyung,” Yoongi corrects him. It’s cute, the way that Hoseok’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open in minor shock. “Just call me hyung. You don’t have to be so formal.”
In an instant, the look of surprise on his face shifts into outright glee, almost as if he’s just won the lottery or something equally as great. It seems kind of silly to be so happy over something as simple as this, but after a bit of consideration, Yoongi thinks that he can empathize.
Hoseok isn’t the only one who’s lonely.
“Okay,” says Hoseok, who appears to be trying to play it cool now. He repeats: “Okay, hyung. Goodnight, then—I’ll see you again soon.”
“Goodnight,” Yoongi calls after him, watching as he ascends the staircase at last. “And don’t be a stranger, alright?”
By the time that Yoongi enters his own apartment and gets settled in for the night, his ears pick up the usual sound of footsteps and general movement coming from directly above him.
In a strange way, it’s almost comforting.
In the days that follow, they encounter each other most nights on the long journey home.
It quickly becomes routine before Yoongi even realizes it. He just knows that it’s become a habit to save a seat on the bus for Hoseok so that he won’t have to stand up the entire time. In exchange, Hoseok will share his favorite bag of chips with Yoongi that he typically brings along to satisfy his hunger, until he can get home to make dinner for himself.
It quickly becomes routine, sharing a single pair of earphones instead of Yoongi’s obnoxiously large headphones so that they can listen to the music at the same time. He introduces Hoseok to every musician that he has the highest respect for, musicians that they don’t already have in common and ones that Hoseok has never heard of. Yoongi can admit that it fills him with pride, whenever Hoseok shows genuine interest in a song. He never fakes his reactions and they’re always positive, always sincere.
It quickly becomes routine, listening to Hoseok as he rambles on about something weird or funny that had happened to him throughout the day at one of his two jobs. Yoongi thinks that it’s kind of amazing, how he manages to juggle so much on a daily basis without a single complaint. It’s also kind of funny, how he never launches into a new story without first asking if Yoongi can guess what he’s about to say. Yoongi never guesses correctly, of course, but that’s okay. He knows that Hoseok will just end up telling him all about it anyway.
It quickly becomes routine, spending time with Hoseok like this on the bus ride home. And it’s a very good routine, Yoongi decides, when he realizes just how much he’s started looking forward to this part of the day. The journey home used to be filled with silence and staring out of windows and ignoring the presence of others—it was dreadfully boring, in other words. But suddenly, that has changed, and Yoongi is more than glad for it.
“Before I realized it, there was this fucking demon bird flying in front of my face and trying to claw my eyes out!” Hoseok exclaims, wildly gesturing with his arms as he tells the dramatic story. The terrified expression on his face as he recalls the memory brings a laugh out of Yoongi.
“You’re kidding me, right?” He opens the front door of their building and waits for Hoseok to enter first.
“Hyung, do you really think I’d lie to you about this?” Hoseok glances back at Yoongi from over his shoulder, his lips forming a playful grin. He rubs his cold hands together to warm them up, then breathes onto them. Yoongi considers reminding him to wear gloves from now on. “Anyway, after that day, we banned Taehyung from ever taking in another stray animal no matter how what his reasons were.”
“That’s kind of harsh. Did you at least try getting along with the wild bird?”
“Hell no.” Hoseok visibly shivers in fear. “If you had seen the look in that thing’s eyes, you wouldn’t want anything to do with it either. Honestly, I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.”
Yoongi pauses in front of the door that leads to his own apartment. He watches as Hoseok continues walking towards the staircase that separates the two levels, clearly oblivious that Yoongi is no longer following close behind.
“I’ll be honest, though. I kind of miss the old days when the three of us lived together. Jimin would always—” Hoseok finally pauses, too, upon realizing that he’s ascending the staircase alone. When he twists around, his mouth is downturned into a confused frown. It’s cute. “Hyung?”
Yoongi snorts, says, “I live down here. Remember?”
“Oh, right.” Hoseok laughs, then. He scratches the back of his head, slightly embarrassed, as he descends the stairs again and walks back over to stand in front of Yoongi. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”
“Hey, it happens.” When Hoseok smiles at those words, Yoongi easily smiles back. He suddenly realizes that he doesn’t want their conversation to be over so soon, nor does he want to disappear into his loft and be forced to wait an entire day just to see Hoseok again. Without thinking twice about it, he asks, “Do you, uh, I don’t know… do you want to come inside?” His bravery dies in an instant, only to be replaced with sheer nervousness. “I have beer. And, uh… other things, if you don’t like beer. Such as water. Do you like water?”
Yoongi honestly considers slapping himself by the end of that tangent, and he might’ve done just that, if not for the sweet laugh that graces his ears. He chooses to believe that Hoseok laughs because he finds Yoongi’s nervousness adorable, and not because he thinks that Yoongi is an incoherent piece of shit.
“Yes, I do like water. Thank you for asking,” Hoseok replies, both sincerity and teasing present in his tone. “But um… is it okay if I accept the offer another time? I have a really early shift tomorrow so I should probably get ready for bed, otherwise I’d just end up talking your ear off ‘til four in the morning.”
Though it’s kind of disappointing, Yoongi tries his best not to show it. Mostly because he can tell that Hoseok really does regret not being able to hang out with him right now. He sees it in the shy, almost apologetic smile on the other boy’s face. So, really, this is a good thing.
Hoseok wants to hang out with him.
This is a really good thing.
“Yeah, no problem, I understand,” says Yoongi, nodding his head. Instead of accepting things as they are, he stupidly blurts out, “How about this weekend? I’m having a couple of friends over on Saturday and we’re—it’s a party, actually. A housewarming party. Think you’d be able to make it?”
“A housewarming party?” Hoseok tilts his head to one side, looking confused all over again. “But haven’t you been living here for a few months now?”
He’s onto us.
You can fix this, Min Yoongi, you fucking tool.
“Well, yeah, technically.” Yoongi laughs in hopes that it covers up his obvious lie. “But I was never able to have a housewarming party, since everyone’s got such hectic schedules… and life is busy in general, you know?”
At least most of that isn’t a lie. He never did have any sort of party after moving into his own loft, and his friends really are busy these days. At most, he’s able to see Seokjin once or twice a week, now that they no longer live together. He sees Namjoon much more often, but only because they’re in the same music production program and they spend a lot of time in the studio together.
Neither of them have any idea that Yoongi is having a “housewarming party” that they now have to attend, otherwise Hoseok will realize that he’s a big stinking liar who simply needed an excuse to see him in a setting that isn’t the city bus.
Nor the mail room, nor the laundry room.
“Saturday, huh?” Hoseok seems to think about the offer for just a couple of seconds, then he says, “I think I’ll be able to make it. I have to run a few errands that day, but I’ll be completely free in the afternoon. What time is the party?”
Yoongi mentally claps his hands together, already celebrating the success of his genius plan.
“Sometime Saturday night,” he replies. “I’ll text you the time when I figure it out.”
“Okay—wait, you don’t have my number, though.”
Yoongi teasingly rolls his eyes. “Then we should change that, obviously.”
He takes his phone from his pocket and offers it without another word. Hoseok easily (and perhaps eagerly) takes the bait, the sound of laughter resonating in his throat as he enters his phone number into Yoongi’s phone.
“Fine, fine. But you better text me several hours before hand, ‘kay?”
Yoongi promises that he will, but in this moment, he’s mostly thinking about how easily he just scored a hot guy’s phone number. He can’t even remember the last time that he’s had this much good luck.
It isn’t until much later when he realizes that, fuck, he actually has to host a housewarming party now.
Yoongi locks his phone and grips the handle of the basket in front of him, beginning to push it down the aisle again. He squints up at the tall shelves filled with endless snacks and other food items, the colorful labels beginning to blur into illegible garbage.
What the hell do people usually offer at parties?
In all honesty, he doesn’t have the slightest clue. He just knows that it needs to be cheap yet still edible enough to wash down with even cheaper beer. However, his refrigerator back at the apartment is never more than slightly empty. He doesn’t do a whole lot of cooking unless he has to. Things are much better that way, and both his stomach and his wallet agree with him.
As Yoongi frowns at the packs of raw chicken in the poultry section, he decides to go with pizza instead. Everyone loves pizza, after all. He’ll order a few boxes and call it a night, simple as that. Then, he won’t have to worry about anyone complaining in regard to his cooking skills.
Still, he has to pick out a set of snacks to keep the boys satisfied before the pizza arrives. With a deep sigh, Yoongi turns the basket around and heads back over to the snack aisle. He barely manages to stop a collision with another customer’s basket as he distracts himself with his phone again.
Yoongi scowls at friends’ messages with as much anger in his eyes as a grumpy old cat.
The reason is simple, really.
Hoseok is the reason.
Yoongi cringes every time that he remembers that terrible conversation where he had failed to keep his mouth shut, but he continues trying to convince himself that this is a good plan, okay. He’s finally found a reason to get Hoseok to hang out with him, and isn’t that the entire point?
Of course it is. Therefore, there’s nothing to worry about, because nothing can go wrong as long as he sticks to the plan.
Whatever that plan may be. Yoongi isn’t entirely sure yet.
When he spots Hoseok’s favorite brand of chips on the shelf in front of him, Yoongi unconsciously grins. He makes a grab for it and drops it into the basket, feeling especially accomplished.
An incoming text message from outside of the group chat interrupts Yoongi’s typing, inadvertently causing him to press send before he can finish his sentence. But when he sees who the message is from, the annoyance that he feels immediately shifts into another feeling entirely. He ends up smiling at his phone, even though he has no idea why Hoseok has just sent him a picture of an ugly bird.
This time around, Yoongi doesn’t reply immediately. He stares down at the brightly lit screen and ponders for a moment, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. It’s been quite a while since he’s intentionally flirted with someone. He supposes that he’ll just have to practice, then.
After hitting send, Yoongi backs out of that particular conversation to give himself a moment to breathe. Only when he sees the notifications does he remember that the group chat exists. He reluctantly opens it again, telling himself that the distraction might be good for him, as he pushes the basket towards the check-out area.
“I wasn’t sure of how many people would be here, so I just decided to bring whatever I could.”
Yoongi’s gaze shifts from the sheepish grin on Hoseok’s face to the numerous bags of snacks and other finger foods that he carries in both hands. It probably wouldn’t be wise to make an estimate of how much all of this must’ve cost Hoseok, since Yoongi already feels guilty enough about sort-of-but-not-entirely lying to him in the first place. Besides, he never told Hoseok that he had to bring anything to party, not that it would be an adequate excuse anyway. Really, Yoongi should’ve known.
Hoseok is basically an angel born from the earth. Of course he would bring an offering without needing to be asked.
“You really didn’t have to, Hoseok-ah.” Realizing that he should at least be helpful, Yoongi quickly takes some of the bags from him to lessen the burden. He adds with a grin, “But hey, I’m sure the four of us will find some way to tackle all of this food before the night is over.”
Yoongi steps to the side, allowing Hoseok to enter the apartment so that he’s no longer standing there in the chilly hallway of the building. With both hands currently full of grocery bags, Yoongi quickly shuts the front door with his foot and waits patiently as Hoseok slides off his shoes.
“Four of us?” he asks, brows risen high on his forehead in surprise.
“Yep.” The tables turn as Yoongi is the one who wears the sheepish grin now. “I sort of only have two friends aside from you, so.” He shrugs with as much nonchalance as someone who clearly doesn’t know the meaning of the word. “But it also means having less mouths to feed when they come over to hang out, so I won’t complain.”
Relief fills him to the core when Hoseok reacts to his terrible joke with a heartfelt laugh. Though Yoongi has grown accustomed to the various different laughs that are formed by Jung Hoseok, this is one of his favorites of all, so he feels strangely accomplished.
The beginning of the night goes much better than Yoongi could have ever hoped for. He only has to deal with a single mishap, occurring from the moment that he introduces Hoseok to his friends as “the guy from upstairs.”
(“Wait a second,” Namjoon had said, his eyes wide as he swallowed the mountain of snacks he had just shoved into his mouth. “I thought that you didn’t like the guy who lived above you. Or, was it the guy who lived next door that was too loud?”
That time there was nothing stopping Yoongi from slapping himself, right in the forehead at the same time that Seokjin not-so-discreetly kicked Namjoon in the shin beneath the little table. Yoongi is pretty certain that it’s out of pure luck and the fact that Hoseok is way too nice, when Hoseok actually laughs instead of being offended by the stupid comment.
“Yeah, that’s definitely me,” Hoseok had said, still smiling even as Namjoon hung his head in embarrassment. “But it’s okay, hyung and I are really good friends now. Right, hyung?”
Never before had Yoongi nodded so fast, his face going a little red as he did so).
What makes the night even better is that Hoseok easily fits right into their unique dynamic, almost as if he’s belonged there from the very beginning. He even manages to survive Seokjin’s initial interrogation, where he nosily asks Hoseok question after question regarding his two jobs and the exact details of how he ended up befriending Yoongi, despite the rocky first impression.
In return, Hoseok asks questions of his own, which unfortunately results in Seokjin telling his life story in grand detail from childhood to adulthood. But by the end of that unnecessary tale, it’s clear to see that he approves of Hoseok and, in some strange way, they’ve bonded.
Yoongi obviously doesn’t need his friends’ approval of the people that he’s attracted to, but it feels good to have it nonetheless.
Of course, things get a whole lot more interesting when they bring out the beer and pass them around. Yoongi finds it fascinating that Hoseok has barely started on his second bottle, yet his entire face has gone red and there’s a drastic increase in his volume, including his laughter. Still, there’s something undeniably cute about the way that his golden smile becomes sort of wild and untamed.
In comparison to the smiles given out by sober Hoseok, inebriated Hoseok seems a lot less guarded.
“Strip poker!” Hoseok loudly suggests, both of his arms raised high in the air out of pure excitement. He repeats, “Strip poker. Let’s play that instead. It’s a whole lot more fun and… and daring than plain ol’ Blackjack.”
“No way. Nuh-uh. Not under my roof,” Yoongi retorts, quickly rejecting the idea before either of his friends can take Hoseok’s side. He tips his head back and gulps down the last of his beer, then carelessly places the bottle on the table next to the several other empty ones.
Hoseok starts to pout. “Why not? Afraid you’ll lose to the king? That’s me, by the way, in case you were wondering.”
Yoongi chooses to ignore the encouraging oohs from a drunken Namjoon and the loud laughter from an only slightly tipsy Seokjin (who still needs to drive home by the end of the night) in favor of meeting Hoseok’s challenging stare. He doesn’t bother containing the smirk that automatically appears because, holy shit, this kid can’t seem to handle his alcohol even if his life depends on it.
“Bullshit. I’m not afraid of anything,” scoffs Yoongi. “I’m just… not interested in seeing either of them half-naked before the pizza arrives. I’d lose my appetite for sure.”
He anticipates the variety of colorful insults that both Seokjin and Namjoon throw at him in return for the teasing (though he doesn’t anticipate the empty cup of cheap ramen that hits his head, courtesy of Seokjin). Yoongi also anticipates the over-the-top reaction from Hoseok, whose laughter seems to echo off the walls of the apartment. Although Yoongi’s eardrums definitely pay the price, he thinks that it’s a much better sacrifice than any of them acknowledging the implication behind that statement.
Because, well, he never said that he isn’t interested in seeing Hoseok half-naked.
Once things have calmed down again, Seokjin suggests: “We’ll just have to play normal poker, then. And hey, how about adding a bet to the mix? Just to make things more interesting?”
The four of them brainstorm together for a long moment, contemplating on what they could possibly bet on. At last, it’s Namjoon who says:
“How about we force the loser to pay for all of the pizzas?”
“Sounds good to me,” Seokjin agrees.
“Me too!” says Hoseok, nodding for emphasis.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first, the gears in his brain turning like clockwork. The way that he sees it, there can only be two outcomes: the first one involves Hoseok revealing himself to be the absolute God of poker, even in his completely intoxicated state, which is highly unlikely. That’s just the realistic truth.
It also means that the second outcome involves Hoseok being the loser. In this scenario, which is much more realistic, Yoongi already knows that he and his friends are actually a bunch of poker-playing dweebs. He can recall many of nights in the past, similarly to this one, where they’d played together for hours just to determine a winner.
Yoongi does not want to admit how much money and other goods have been lost to such stupidity. He also doesn’t want to admit the time that he’d ignored Namjoon for an entire week, after losing to him in a very competitive game.
In other words, Hoseok doesn’t stand much of a chance.
“We should play as teams,” he suggests all of a sudden. That statement immediately gets their attention. “You know, two versus two? Just to make things even more interesting? I don’t think we’ve ever played like that before.”
Yoongi knows even before they agree to his suggestion that he’s got them right where he wants them. He also doesn’t give them much of a choice in the matter, when he practically latches onto Hoseok before either of them can ask how they’ll determine the members of each team.
“You’re mine, okay?” Yoongi tells him, a sneaky grin plastered to his own face.
It seems just a bit excessive when he places a hand on Hoseok’s thigh beneath the table, giving it a nice couple of pats and a gentle squeeze in what he convinces himself is a friendly gesture. And it is friendly, because he and Hoseok are friends now. Good friends.
“Okay,” Hoseok easily repeats back. His own grin shifts from bashful, delightful, and then ecstatic. All in the span of three seconds.
This is definitely going to be a great night, Yoongi thinks.
(In the end, Yoongi totally doesn’t mind that he and Hoseok get their asses kicked at poker.
Truthfully, he had anticipated as such from the very beginning, even before the game had started. He also doesn’t mind that he ended up paying for all of the pizzas anyway, because he absolutely refused to let Hoseok spend another cent on this housewarming party that isn’t actually a housewarming party at all.
All that matters to Yoongi is the amount of pure fun that he had—that both of them had, giggling like idiots and shouting for no apparent reason. He had way too much fun, leaning into Hoseok’s side and whispering in his ear, pretending to say important things so that the other team would always be suspicious of the cards in their hands.
They weren’t even halfway through the game when they predicted their own loss, but they had continued to play, continued to laugh and make stupid jokes until their faces were wet with tears.
Because isn’t that the whole point?)
The end of the night finds Yoongi with a bloated stomach filled with beer and pizza, and the general feeling of satisfaction after hours spent doing nothing for the betterment of society and everything for the betterment of himself.
In addition to that, the night also finds Yoongi lazily lying on top of the cheap couch that was gifted to him by his parents as a “you’re finally living on your own so good fucking luck” present, his thin legs stretched across Hoseok’s lap. He pays more attention to the warmth radiating from Hoseok’s body than the silly documentary playing on the television.
How can a single person give off this much heat?
Yoongi temporarily thinks about the physiological processes surrounding body temperature, before burying it deep within his mind because, honestly, who actually cares? Not Yoongi, that’s for sure. He just knows that Hoseok is so fucking warm, but not uncomfortably so. It’s as if he has his own personal sun, a very miniature sun placed right in the middle of his body.
It’s oddly fitting.
His thoughts are interrupted (for perhaps the dozenth time) by a rather persistent noise coming from below. Yoongi looks away from the screeching penguins on the television screen to glance down at a sleeping Namjoon, his mouth slightly ajar as he snores and unconsciously disturbs the peace that had been established.
“God. He’s even worse than the penguins,” Yoongi mumbles to himself.
But his comment gets a laugh out of Hoseok, who barely manages to contain the sound with a hand partly covering his mouth, his pretty eyes twinkling in the light of the bright television. Yoongi watches his reaction and soaks it up. He practically lives for it now.
As a matter of fact, Hoseok’s entertainment is what urges him on. This time, Yoongi opens his mouth and tries to imitate the monstrous snores. It pleases him on an even larger scale when Hoseok laughs twice as loud now, followed by Seokjin’s own goofy laughter from where he sits with his back against the couch.
“Yoongi-yah, you can’t blame him when it’s your lame documentary that put him to sleep in the first place,” Seokjin comments several moments later, once he’s finally regained his breath.
“Shut up, March of the Penguins isn’t lame at all. Besides, Namjoonie loves documentaries, for your information.”
Ironically, the snore that follows that statement is the loudest one of them all. It results in the three of them laughing without shame, as well as the movie being shut off just a few minutes later. None of them were truly paying attention to it, anyway.
“Come on, big guy.” Seokjin begins shaking Namjoon by the shoulder in an attempt to silence the beast within. “Time to wake up.”
After several more attempts, Namjoon opens his eyes at last, consequently freeing them of their torment.
“What?” He rubs his eyes and stares up at the eldest friend, a childish frown beginning to form. “I wasn’t even asleep.”
At that, Seokjin only snorts and turns his attention to the couch again, eyes landing on Yoongi—who still hasn’t moved, and honestly doesn’t want to, because Hoseok is just really fucking warm, okay.
“I should probably take the baby home,” he announces with a playful grin. “It’s way past his curfew.”
“No offense—” Namjoon pauses to release an adorable yawn. “—but suck a dick, hyung.”
The older ones pay little to no attention to those words, since this is how their dynamic has always been. Yoongi ends up yawning as well, and when he glances around the place, he scrunches his nose in distaste at what he sees.
“Yeah, okay. I should probably… start to clean up this mess.”
From the empty boxes of pizza to the dozens of empty plastic wrappers left over from their snacks, Yoongi wonders if he’ll ever be done in time to sleep before sunrise. A quick glance at his phone reveals that it’s nearly midnight already. He can hardly believe that five hours have passed by so quickly.
“Hey, we helped in making the mess,” Hoseok points out, but Yoongi pays more attention to his smile and the way that his hand reassuring pats one of Yoongi’s knees. “So, we’ll help clean it up, too.”
Of course, he takes the offer without a second thought.
“Thank god.” He sighs and visibly deflates into the couch’s comfortable cushions. “Because I’m fucking exhausted.”
It’s a moment later when something unusually light hits Yoongi square on the head, and he looks down in time to see the wooden chopstick that Seokjin had tossed at him. Which is just so rude.
“At least help out!” he chastises, which always sounds much more like whining to Yoongi’s ears. “We’re the ones who helped you move all of your furniture into this place, remember?”
“And then I paid you back in food and beer! We’re totally even now,” Yoongi whines in retaliation.
Namjoon adds, “Hyung, you still owe me for those headphones that you borrowed and then, like, never gave back.”
Okay, so maybe Yoongi really is guilty of this particular crime. He’s entirely guilty, in fact, but instead of admitting that, he awkwardly scratches the back of his head and shrugs, refusing to meet his friend’s eyes.
“Eh. I don’t remember that.”
It really shouldn’t make Yoongi feel proud of himself when that false obliviousness brings yet another laugh out of Hoseok, but it does. He’s only human, after all, and as a human being, he’s plagued by the desire to make Hoseok laugh whenever he possibly can. It just feels even better, when he somehow manages to do it unintentionally.
Namjoon only shakes his head in slight annoyance, and his response is directed more towards Hoseok than anyone else.
“See? He always does this.”
“Help us or no more stew for you,” Seokjin threatens.
And, well, that’s just low. It’s so low that Yoongi groans about it but gets up from the couch anyway, his legs nearly giving out from underneath his weight since they had been asleep for so long. Sure, he could’ve moved them, but that scenario wasn’t exactly ideal. He never wanted to lose the warmth of Hoseok’s lap.
“Fine,” he grumbles. When his legs decide to work again, he takes the garbage bag that Seokjin hands to him and begins filling it with handfuls of trash from the coffee table and floor. “You’re a couple of bullies, you know that?”
The only comfort that he gets is a rough pat to the shoulder and Seokjin’s annoyingly handsome smile.
“Cheer up. We’ll get the job done much faster with all four of us working together.”
“Whatever, you’re still mean. I like the other Seok better.”
While bending over to pick up another empty bag of tteokbokki chips, Yoongi’s eyes wander over to the other side of the room to catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s reaction. He’s quite pleased when he sees the way that Hoseok tries to hide his own smile behind the action of sweeping up a few crumbs on the floor with a broom—a broom that he’s somehow located on his own.
Namjoon’s laughter interrupts the short-lived moment.
“Is that how we’re differentiating between them now?” he asks. “Mean Seok and Nice Seok?”
Seokjin gasps dramatically at the terrible accusation.
“I am not mean,” he insists. He spins around to direct his next question to the newcomer in the group. “Hoseok, am I mean?”
“See? He’s an honest man.”
“But I’m sure we’re all capable of getting a little fussy sometimes…”
Both Yoongi and Namjoon fail to stop themselves from bursting with laughter after hearing that answer. What makes it even funnier is the scandalous expression that appears on Seokjin’s face and the conflicted expression on Hoseok’s, as if he thinks that he should laugh as well but he’s honestly afraid to.
“You, too? Really?” Seokjin shakes his head in disappointment. “Seems I can’t trust anyone around here anymore.”
Though Hoseok rushes to apologize, the grin that threatens to break free makes his statement seem a lot less sincere.
“Sorry, hyung! I swear I meant that in the nicest way possible.”
“And that’s why you’re the nice Seok,” Yoongi chimes in. He’s fully aware that he’s grinning from ear-to-ear now, a grin that widens enough to show his gums when Hoseok smiles back at him.
Again, Seokjin shakes his head. “Favoritism at its finest! See if I ever make stew for you ever again.”
“That settles it,” says Namjoon, who raises his voice and imitates the tone of a TV show narrator, “Yoongi hyung has been officially banned from ever eating Jin hyung’s special stew! Tune in next time to find out how this situation unfolds.”
He only narrowly dodges the pizza crust that Yoongi chucks at his head.
They finish the task of cleaning up Yoongi’s loft much faster than any of them had expected. Even so, it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning by the time that Seokjin and Namjoon put on their coats and shoes, just before stepping back into the cold hallway outside of the front door. Seokjin is the first one to turn around and give an enthusiastic wave goodbye.
“It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Let’s hang out at my place next time, okay?”
He then blows Hoseok a kiss in that playfully flirtatious way that he always does, and Yoongi elects to ignore how bashful Hoseok becomes afterwards. If he continues hanging out with them like this, he’ll surely get used to it over time.
“Yeah, okay! That’d be really awesome.”
“We should plan it on a day when it’s still cold outside,” says Namjoon, “then hyung will be forced to make us some of his stew.”
“Alright, alright. That’s enough out of you.” Though Seokjin rolls his eyes, he’s still grinning as he ushers Namjoon forward so that they can make their way towards his truck parked just outside. “Let’s go, baby, time to take you home.”
“Make sure to tuck him in!” Yoongi teases, and he closes the door right afterwards.
As soon as they’ve left, the apartment feels eerily silent and empty. Yet, for the first time in the past few months, Yoongi doesn’t get a chance to feel lonely—especially not when he turns around to face Hoseok again. In an instant, it feels like a mixture of nervousness and excitement fills his gut before traveling through all of the veins in his body.
It’s the first time that they’ve been alone together throughout the entire night.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” says Hoseok, breaking the short-lived silence. He asks with an awkward tilt of his head, “Are they dating?”
Since he hadn’t expected such a question, Yoongi huffs out a surprised laugh and shakes his head. He leads the way back into the room and distantly wonders what he can say or do to make things… not horrendously awkward. It’s been far too long since he’s had to entertain a guest that wasn’t one of his old friends, and even longer since he’s had someone over that he’s interested in kissing.
“No, no. Hyung actually has a girlfriend at the moment.” Yoongi bends over and adjusts one of the couch cushions, just to give his shaky hands something to do. “It’s kind of an inside joke between the three of us? Since Joon-ah is the youngest in our trio, he’d always tease the two of us about being old. So, we started calling him the baby of the group just to piss him off.” He glances back over his shoulder then, grinning fondly. “But I’m pretty sure he secretly likes it, since he’s grossly sentimental about shit like that.”
Yoongi watches as Hoseok nods his head at those words, the corners of his pretty mouth turning upwards.
“Oh, I get it now. That seems really cute.”
Even though he says that, Yoongi still manages to pick up just the slightest trace of something else hidden within his tone. It isn’t necessarily sadness that he hears. Perhaps a hint of longing? Maybe. In any case, Yoongi is quick to try and remedy the feeling.
“We can be a quartet, though.” He rapidly shakes his head when he realizes how awkward that sounds. “I mean—it can be the four of us sometimes. You seemed to get along with them and I know for sure that they like you, so…” He eventually gives up with a frustrated sigh. “Am I making any sense right now? ‘Cause, you know, feel free to punch me if I’m not.”
At least Hoseok appears to be amused by Yoongi’s awkward rambling. He moves over to plop down onto the couch again, his warm body pressed dangerously close to Yoongi’s. It’s a whole lot more difficult to remain calm and unaffected by it, now that they’re alone.
“You make perfect sense, hyung, don’t worry about it.” He pauses just to playfully nudge Yoongi in the side. “I’d love to be in your… quartet, by the way. Tonight was really fun and—woah, what’s this?”
He doesn’t bother finishing the remainder of that sentence when he gets distracted by something sitting in one of the corners of the room. Yoongi longs for the warmth of his body when Hoseok stands up again, his legs carrying him to the corner so that he can examine the little record player on the cheap, wooden stand.
“How the hell did I not notice this until now?” he gasps. “Is it vintage?”
“No way,” Yoongi replies with a quiet laugh. “A vintage anything would probably wreck my bank account.”
Hoseok hums in agreement, his long, slender fingers tracing the corners of the player. Honestly, Yoongi never would have expected him to be so fascinated by something like this. He stores the information away in the hard drive of his mind, along with every other minute detail and quirk that he’s learned about Hoseok so far.
“It’s still nice, though… what do you have to play on it?”
“Well, if you look down at the bottom of the stand, you’ll find my too-small vinyl collection of my favorite ‘90s albums.”
When Hoseok turns around to face him once more, he’s wearing that shit-eating grin that Yoongi hasn’t seen in a little while.
“Hyung, did you know that you’re the definition of a hipster?”
“Fuck off,” he retorts, but that stupid grin forces him to smile back. “It’s called having an aesthetic, if you didn’t know.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He turns back to face the record player, asking, “Can I listen to one? I promise that I’ll be careful with it.” But almost as soon as he does ask the question, he spins back around for the second time, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Unless you were planning to get some rest soon? Shit, I forgot how late it was. I don’t mean to impose.”
“Hey, you’re not imposing and I’m not even tired.” The lie comes out faster than Yoongi can even help himself. It’s sort of ridiculous, how he suppresses a yawn right afterwards, feigning alertness so that Hoseok will stay. “I mean it, so play whichever one that you want.”
At least tomorrow is Sunday, Yoongi thinks to himself. It means that there won’t be any consequences for his impulsive decisions, not that he’d care so much even if there were consequences. The only thing that he cares about right now is the gleeful smile that Hoseok sends his way, looking all too excited as he begins searching through the records in order to choose one.
Only moments later, TLC begins playing throughout the room.
“What the hell?” Again, Yoongi’s laugh is one of complete and utter surprise. “Why did you choose this one, of all things?”
“Because you said that I could choose whatever I wanted, remember?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
His words trail off at the same time that his eyes widen a little, his gaze completely fixed on Hoseok as he begins moving his body to the slow beat of Red Light Special. Yoongi doesn’t even get a chance to advocate for the other albums in his collection, such as Nas’ Illmatic that Hoseok had liked so much on the bus, or even one of his many 2Pac albums. He doesn’t get to do much of anything at all, as he sits completely paralyzed on that couch and doesn’t take his eyes off Hoseok for even a second.
Of course Hoseok had to end up picking one of the only R&B albums that Yoongi owns. Of course he would end up playfully gyrating his hips to sensual music, oblivious to Yoongi’s suffering as he laughs and hums along to suggestive English lyrics.
The whole situation is sort of a nightmare, at the same time that it’s basically a wet dream come to life.
“What are you even doing?” he asks, hoping that the teasing undertones can cover up the sexual frustration.
Still, part of him doesn’t want Hoseok to stop doing whatever the fuck that he’s doing, because it’s really fucking hot and Yoongi is really fucking gay. He can’t help it.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Hoseok teases back. His eyes are closed and he hasn’t stopped moving his hips, hasn’t stopped smiling as if he knows. “I’m dancing. And you should join me, hyung.”
Yoongi asks outright, “I’m guessing you’re still drunk?”
“Hmm… maybe a little,” Hoseok laughs.
All of a sudden, he’s moving towards the couch and reaching out to grab hold of Yoongi’s sweaty palms. He totally ignores the chorus of no’s from the elder, ignores Yoongi’s scowl that looks a lot more like a childish pout, and ignores the fact that the room just isn’t big enough for two not-entirely-sober men to be dancing in between obstacles of furniture.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi whines, because he definitely is whining now, “I swear to god if we fall—”
They do end up falling, of course. Immediately after his initial concerns about falling. Hoseok trips against the leg of the coffee table and both of them just barely avoid crashing into it as they go tumbling down, the feeling of hardwood floor against Yoongi’s head and back causing him to groan in agony. He winces at the heavy weight of Hoseok lying on top of him.
Hoseok is on top of him.
Hoseok is on top of him.
The fact that Yoongi had already been red in the face doesn’t seem to matter as even more blood rushes to his cheeks. He can only hope that Hoseok won’t notice the blood that has rushed to other parts of his body, because Yoongi definitely has a full-on boner by now.
“Jesus Christ,” he wheezes, “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Hoseok takes a long moment to respond to that, since he’s been reduced to an absolute giggling mess, his face pressed against Yoongi’s chest. He lifts his head up just enough to look into Yoongi’s eyes, his own filled with unshed tears from the amount of laughing that he’s done.
“Sorry, sorry! I thought that I could—” Another giggle. “I thought maybe I could definitely jump past the table, but… shit, I’m really sorry, hyung. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
No shit it hurts, Yoongi thinks about replying.
Why are you like this, he really wants to ask.
You’re intolerable but also cute, he considers saying.
Instead, he says nothing.
Instead, he impulsively leans up and presses his lips to Hoseok’s.
Yoongi pulls away only half a second later, letting his head fall back against the hardwood floor. He stares at Hoseok and Hoseok stares back at him with wide, glossy eyes that seem to see every part of Yoongi. Every secret inside of himself. He lets Hoseok take a look, and he doesn’t say anything.
But he also doesn’t need to say anything, because Hoseok decides to kiss him back. He lessens the short distance between them and kisses Yoongi, slowly and carefully at first, only to rapidly shift into pure desperation. Yoongi smiles against those lips when Hoseok begins making these soft, quiet noises of approval in the back of his throat. He wastes no time in parting his lips, allowing Yoongi to suck on his tongue and transform those quiet noises into something much more audible.
Needing to do something with his hands, Yoongi gradually slides one of them up the back of Hoseok’s loose shirt, his blunt fingernails gently tracing up Hoseok’s spine. His other hand finds its way to the back of Hoseok’s tight jeans, where he squeezes Hoseok’s plump little ass—it’s definitely revenge for the sexy dancing that he had forced Yoongi to endure.
“Hyung,” Hoseok sighs into Yoongi’s mouth, while his ass pushes back against Yoongi’s hand. He repeats, a little louder, “Hyung.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi busies his mouth with kissing along Hoseok’s well-defined jawline as he waits for a response.
However, the response comes in the form of Hoseok pulling away and sitting up until Yoongi’s mouth can’t even reach him anymore. His eyes have gone wide again, though now they seem to be filled with what can only be described as guilt. He doesn’t bother maintaining eye contact.
A sinking feeling appears within the pit of Yoongi’s stomach.
“What is it?” he asks, eyes searching Hoseok’s expression for answers—for any clues of what he might’ve done wrong.
“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles after a long delay. He shifts around on the floor until he’s no longer straddling Yoongi’s hips. “I… can’t.”
“I mean—I shouldn’t.”
He waits for more detail, another explanation, or anything else, but it doesn’t come.
Which leads him to ask: “Why not?”
Again, Yoongi waits. Hoseok opens his mouth several times, but the words don’t come out. He doesn’t look at Yoongi, either, his eyes focused entirely on his socked feet below him. It’s frustrating, to say the least, and the silence does nothing at all to calm Yoongi’s insecurities. He doesn’t want to make any stupid assumptions, but it’s hard not to accept the inevitable rejection.
Just to make things easier on the both of them, he tries to be humorous.
“Let me guess, ‘It’s not you, it’s me?’”
“No, no,” Hoseok insists, quickly shaking his head. “Well, technically, but—I had a boyfriend.”
He says those last few words in a rush, as if saying them quickly will lessen the horrible taste in his mouth from having to say them at all. Even so, these words make up a fact that Yoongi is already aware of. He’s been aware of it since the very beginning, when he moved into this place and suffered from having to listen to their creaky bed moving every other night.
So, yes, he knows that Hoseok had a boyfriend. He also knows that Hoseok doesn’t have a boyfriend right now, and that he’s been living alone for the past couple of months because of it.
“Okay,” Yoongi eventually says, speaking slowly as he tries to understand. “And?”
“And…” Hoseok seems reluctant to continue. “And a while back, things ended really badly between us, so I don’t know if I’m ready to start something new with someone else? Even though I… like you. I really, really like you.”
“Yeah?” Hoseok nods and Yoongi can see the honesty in his eyes. It doesn’t hurt any less, but it’s something. He makes a second attempt at breaking the tense atmosphere with a playful grin. “Guess it’s kind of obvious how I feel about you, then.”
“Pretty obvious, yeah.” Hoseok bites down on his bottom lip to try and hide his shy, adorable smile. “Anyway, I just don’t want this to seem like a rebound thing, so…”
“No, I get it. I mean, it makes sense.”
For the first time since this awkward conversation began, Hoseok turns his head and looks directly at Yoongi.
Yoongi nods. “It’s too soon for you, right?”
“Um, yeah… just a little.” He easily goes back to staring at his feet again. “I’m really sorry, hyung. I shouldn’t have led you on like this.”
Yoongi dismisses the apology with a wave of his hand.
“You did no such thing, but maybe you did give me a minor case of blue balls.”
Again, Hoseok turns to look at him, this time staring directly at Yoongi’s lap without shame. He starts to smile at his accomplishment, and Yoongi inevitably smiles, too.
“Oops?” He finally looks away from Yoongi’s lap as a quiet laugh escapes him. “Sorry about that, too.”
“S’okay. Now stop apologizing for things.”
Hoseok manages to catch himself this time around, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth before he finishes the word. It’s still ridiculously cute in way that makes Yoongi’s insides feel grossly fuzzy, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to ruffle Hoseok’s hair into a complete mess. He only stops when Hoseok whines about it, and suddenly, things feel as if they’ve gone back to normal.
Well, almost normal.
“So…” Hoseok begins, standing up from the floor at the same time that Yoongi does. “So, are you sure that you’re not angry?”
Yoongi frowns at him. “You’re kidding, right? ‘Course I’m not angry.” Now he takes the opportunity to flick Hoseok in the forehead with his index finger, a mischievous grin flashing across his face when Hoseok threatens to bite him. “And that’s for thinking that I would be angry.”
“Okay,” he says. “Thank you…”
They wish each other goodnight only minutes later. Then, Hoseok returns to his own apartment upstairs. Several minutes after that, Yoongi falls back into his bed with a deep sigh and a minor heartache. He tells himself to get over it, because at least Hoseok didn’t completely turn him down.
At least Hoseok likes him, even if he doesn’t want to date at the moment.
Hoseok likes Yoongi and that should be enough for now.
He likes Yoongi, and Yoongi won’t say that he’s crazy about the guy but he definitely feels some type of way.
Some type of really, really strong way that’s kind of annoying to think about.
It’s enough for now.
Yoongi doesn’t see Hoseok again until Wednesday night.
He tells himself that he isn’t worried or anything like that, once Monday night rolls around and Hoseok doesn’t take the bus home like he usually does on this day.
Yoongi isn’t worried, isn’t concerned, either, because he knows that sometimes Hoseok’s work schedule changes randomly. It’s just the consequence of having two jobs, one of which requires him to be there most of the day and the other job scheduling him for random nights throughout the week.
Then, Tuesday night arrives and there’s still no Hoseok to be seen. Yoongi is a little worried, a little concerned, maybe, because he starts to convince himself that Hoseok is just avoiding him by taking other buses or something. It’s the consequence of assuming that Hoseok had wanted to kiss him, touch him, be with him in ways that no one else has in a while.
Yoongi spends the next day anxiously wondering if he has truly fucked things up, even though he’d tried so hard to be cool about it and let Hoseok know that nothing had to change between them.
On Wednesday night, when he takes the bus home alone for the third time that week, he thinks about what he could’ve said or done differently. He continues thinking about it on the short walk to the apartment building, and doesn’t stop thinking about it until he walks through the door to find Hoseok at the other end of the hallway.
He’s back, is the first thought to cross Yoongi’s mind.
He’s crying, is the second thought that appears, because that’s exactly what Hoseok is doing.
Upon realizing that he’s no longer alone, Hoseok sits up from his previously slouched position at the bottom of the staircase. He hastily wipes his wet cheeks with the back of his hands, sniffling as he does so. He could really use a tissue, Yoongi notes. Maybe a hug as well.
“Hey,” says Yoongi, deciding to speak up first. He takes a few steps forward and tries his best to be casual about it, not wanting to walk too fast or too slow in fear of pushing Hoseok away. “What are you sitting out here for? Trying to catch a cold or something?”
He says that last bit as he glances down at Hoseok’s bare feet perched up on the first step. The guy isn’t even wearing a sweater, despite how chilly the inside hallway gets during winter nights such as this one. Yoongi gets the sudden urge to pinch his cheek and force him into a scarf.
“Oh,” is all that Hoseok says at first. He quickly puts on a smile that’s obviously false. “It’s okay, I’m actually not that cold. It gets kind of hot upstairs sometimes, so… hey, what’s that in the bag?”
It’s fairly obvious that he’s trying to change the subject now. Yoongi decides not to comment on it. Instead, he lifts the bag in his hand and plasters a grin to his face.
“Chicken. I thought about cooking tonight, but then the thought of chicken easily won me over. Why, you want some?”
Hoseok shakes his head so fast that there’s no way he can’t be dizzy afterwards.
“No, no, it’s fine! I was just wondering—like, it smells good even from over here.”
“Exactly. That’s why you should come and try some with me.”
“Seriously, hyung, I’m okay. Really.”
“Okay.” Yoongi heaves a dramatic sigh and drags his feet towards the door to his own apartment. He mumbles sadly, “Guess I’ll just… eat all of this chicken on my own, then. Even though there’s so much and I can’t possibly finish it. Too bad there’s no one out there who wants to share my chicken, not even for a few drinks and a few laughs…”
“Fine, oh my god! You’re so manipulative,” says a very exasperated Hoseok. He finally rises from the stairs and begins to walk over, which is basically the same as admitting defeat. Yoongi mentally applauds himself for his acting.
He replies cheekily, “Thanks for noticing.”
Yoongi makes quick work of unlocking the door and letting the both of them inside and out of the cold hallway. His apartment isn’t much warmer, since he hasn’t been here since morning. Turning on the miniature heater that Seokjin gifted to him on Christmas is the first thing that Yoongi does after placing the bag of chicken on the coffee table. The second thing that he does is gather the only bottle of red wine that he owns at the moment and two glasses for them to use.
“I know that this type of wine goes much better with red meat,” he says as he pours the dark liquid into Hoseok’s glass first, “but it’ll take off the edge a lot faster than beer would, so why not?”
“Thanks,” Hoseok mumbles. He takes the glass and downs almost half of it at once.
Yoongi knows that whatever caused Hoseok to cry alone at the bottom of the staircase is none of his business. He’s also sure that if he bluntly asks what’s wrong, Hoseok will smile and tell him that it’s nothing. Therefore, he’ll try his best to comfort the younger with chicken and wine and lots of bad jokes, hopefully. It’s all that he can offer at the moment, but it’s better than nothing.
In spite of this, he ends up being wrong.
“My ex drunk-texted me again,” Hoseok admits out of nowhere. His teeth chomp down on a crispy piece of fried chicken, the loud crunch filling the silent room. He hums at the taste and it’s almost uncanny, how he looks unaffected despite his statement. “Although, to be honest, can you really say it’s an accident when it’s the third time that this has happened?”
His sudden honesty takes Yoongi by complete surprise. At this point, he’s grown used to Hoseok watering things down and keeping most of his problems hidden behind the scenes, so it’s truly unexpected to hear him say these things now.
“Shit,” Yoongi mutters. He hopes that he isn’t overstepping his boundaries when he asks, “Well… what did he say?”
Hoseok responds with a nonchalant shrug.
“I don’t remember all of it, but he really wanted to make sure that I knew he’s fucking someone else now.” He laughs at the end of that sentence, though it’s a laugh that’s far too forced to be real. Yoongi watches as he downs the rest of his wine. “Whatever, I guess. I’m really tired of thinking that he’ll come back when all that he does these days is… say things to hurt me.”
“Fuck that guy, then.” Yoongi’s sudden contribution causes Hoseok to stop for a moment, his eyes going a bit wide. Realizing how that might’ve sounded, Yoongi rushes to clarify. “I mean, not literally, but like—fuck him. He sounds like a dickhead, so.”
He’s relieved when Hoseok actually begins to laugh, even if it’s just a little bit. Once again, Hoseok wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands and tries to school his expression—though Yoongi still catches the slight quivering of his bottom lip. To help with that, Hoseok pours himself another glass of wine.
“You’re right, hyung. He is a dickhead.” He pauses to sigh, his eyes staring down at the table. “I don’t know why I never blocked his number in the first place. But… it’s just really hard, you know, when you’ve been with someone for almost two years and then they’re just gone, like, I don’t know.”
“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself,” says Yoongi in a rather weak attempt to comfort him. “I mean, two years is a pretty damn long time.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I just wish there was a way that I could officially move on? If… if that makes any sense.”
Yoongi ponders over those words for a long moment, while Hoseok slowly sips at the wine this time and swirls the liquid around in his glass, looking miserable beyond belief. The moment of silence between them is only broken when Yoongi comes up with an idea.
“Can I see your phone?”
The question immediately gets Hoseok’s attention again, who stares at Yoongi as if he’s just asked Hoseok to shoot him in the leg. It’s almost laughable, really. But despite his initial hesitance, he wordlessly hands over his cellphone only seconds later.
The phone is already unlocked when it reaches Yoongi’s hands. He takes a moment to open up the messages app, then taps on the first conversation at the very top. He can instantly see that he’s found what he’s looking for, but just to make certain of it, he turns the screen towards Hoseok.
“Is this him?” he asks.
Hoseok confirms it with a nod. Then, he asks in a panic, “Wait, you’re not going to talk to him, are you? Oh, god, hyung—please don’t.”
“I’m not, I’m not. I promise,” Yoongi reassures. “Unless… you feel like getting revenge? I could definitely help with that.”
“Don’t,” Hoseok warns him, so Yoongi stops joking around.
“Okay, okay.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how Hoseok is definitely too nice of a person. For now, Yoongi taps a few more buttons until he reaches the one that he’s been searching for. A few seconds after that, he hands the phone over to Hoseok. “There. Blocked and deleted.”
Hoseok briefly looks as if he might freak the fuck out, but the expression on his face gradually transforms into something a lot more peaceful. Yoongi can tell just by looking at him that it’s like a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders.
“Really?” Hoseok stares at the phone in disbelief, only to eventually break into a smile. “I… okay. This might sound a little weird, but I feel really fucking good all of a sudden? Like, really good?”
“Good!” Yoongi reaches across the table and pats him on the hand. “Guess that means the wine is working its wonders, right?”
Hoseok giggles with delight. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
That’s essentially how the bottle of wine becomes Hoseok’s new best friend. Yoongi watches him, amused, as the alcohol in his system easily shifts his mood into something much more relaxed and playful, just like with what had happened at the housewarming party. Yoongi learns that Hoseok truly is much more honest when he’s shitfaced, though most people are, including himself.
Still, he has to wonder how they manage to finish the chicken in lightning speed and, more importantly, how they’ve ended up gossiping about their sex lives. Yoongi laughs so much that he’s sure all of their neighbors in the entire building might complain, as he listens to Hoseok talk shit about just how much his ex-boyfriend actually sucked in bed.
“I’m actually kind of mad now?” Hoseok goes on to say. The empty glass in his hand has more or less become his microphone. “Being in love really has a way of making people… blind to a lot of things. But now that I actually think about it, I was the one doing all of the work in the relationship—and in the bedroom, too! Fucking asshole.”
“What do you mean?” Yoongi inquires, as he reaches over to pour Hoseok more of the wine but realizes that the bottle is empty. “Not to be weird or anything, but from down here, it honestly sounded like you two had the greatest sex life ever.”
It surprises him when Hoseok actually laughs at that statement, his head lulled to the side.
“No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong, silly,” he says, still giggling to himself. “We spent ninety percent of the time having make-up sex, because he would get mad at me over literally everything. It was really exhausting, if I’m being honest.”
Damn, Yoongi thinks to himself. That’s actually pretty fucking sad, but he doesn’t say that aloud. The whole point of tonight is to make Hoseok feel better and allow him to vent, since it obviously seems to be what he needs most right now. Yoongi also decides to tell a story of his own, hoping that it’ll make Hoseok laugh again—even if everything is making him laugh, now that he’s wasted.
“You think that’s bad? Listen to this. One time, I hooked up with this guy that I’d been hitting on for weeks, and then finally, he was about to eat me out one night—like, I was face down, ass up and everything—but then his phone rings, right? Guess who it was.” Before Hoseok can make a guess, Yoongi continues the story anyway. “His fucking girlfriend.”
Just as he had hoped, Hoseok laughs so hard that he nearly falls to the floor from where he sits across the small table.
“Yes way!” Yoongi confirms, laughing along with him now. “What’s even worse is that he proceeds to have a normal conversation with her, you know, as if he wasn’t about to dive tongue first into the deep abyss of my asshole. Fucking prick.”
He also hopes that he hasn’t gone overboard with his dramatic description, once Hoseok begins coughing up a lung from laughing too much. Thankfully, he manages to calm down a little before anything actually comes out of his mouth.
“I kicked him out, of course. I just remember being really disappointed, because I’d been looking forward to a good ol’ fashion rimming.”
“Stop, please,” Hoseok practically begs of him. “I-I can’t breathe.”
Yoongi grins at a job well-done. He also stands up from the floor to quickly retrieve a glass of water for Hoseok, because contrary to popular belief, he’s a very polite host who doesn’t want to witness his guests passing out over one of his lame stories.
“Anyway, moral of the story? Don’t hook up with guys who look like the lovechild of Billy Ray Cyrus and G-Dragon. They might promise to eat your ass, but then leave out the part where they secretly have a significant other.”
“You’re making this up,” says Hoseok. He swallows several gulps of water, some of the liquid leaking down his chin as his lips quiver every time that he tries not to laugh again. “It can’t be real, can it?”
Yoongi nods solemnly.
“Trust me, man. I wish that it weren’t.”
“But was he really gonna… you know…”
“What? Eat my ass?”
Hoseok wipes the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, nodding.
“Uh, yeah?” Yoongi snorts. “Why?”
“I don’t know, just curious.” He traces the rim of the glass with his index finger. “I’ve never had a guy ask to do that on me before.”
Now, that doesn’t make any sense at all. Yoongi thinks over those words for just a moment, his brain failing to digest them no matter how much he tries. Clearly, he’s missing something very important.
“Wait, are you serious?”
Hoseok frowns at him, confused. “Never what, hyung?”
So, Yoongi asks outright: “You’ve seriously never had your ass eaten before?”
It’s almost funny, the way in which Hoseok’s eyes go comically wide at the question. He immediately resorts to avoiding any and all eye contact, his hand visibly tightening around the glass that he’s holding. His knuckles go white from the pressure.
“I mean… why would I have?” He mutters, then attempts to cover it up by asking, “Have… have you?”
“A few times,” Yoongi answers truthfully and without hesitation. “Never mind that—you’ve seriously never been eaten out? Seriously?”
“Holy fuck, Hoseok.”
“What? Why are you shocked? It’s not like it’s a real thing, right?”
“Oh, my god.” Yoongi places his hands on top of his head, his mind completely blown. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this shit right now.”
More importantly, Yoongi can’t believe that this guy had an actual boyfriend for nearly two years, and said boyfriend never once ate him out. Like, how useless can a person be? Absolutely, positively, a hundred percent useless, apparently.
“I thought it was a myth!” he exclaims—so naïve.
“Why the hell would it be a myth?”
“Because…” Hoseok’s eyes dart around the table as he tries hard to think of an answer. “Because it just seems weird, yeah? I mean… literally sticking your tongue up someone’s ass?”
Yoongi doesn’t stop himself from laughing out loud at Hoseok’s bluntness, his hands coming back down to rest on the surface of the table.
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he replies with an obvious wink. “It’s not as scary as it seems. In fact, I’d even argue that trying anal for the first time is a whole lot scarier.”
“Maybe, but… it’s your actual tongue.”
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying, but—then again, would you fuck someone who didn’t clean themselves first?”
Hoseok shakes his head. “Well, no…”
“Then I rest my case.”
It’s silent between them for all of two seconds, and then Hoseok begins to laugh with his entire being.
“I can’t believe that this is what we’re choosing to talk about right now,” he says. Again, he wipes away his tears. “This is, like, probably the weirdest topic that I’ve ever discussed while drunk. That’s saying a lot.”
Just because he can, Yoongi nudges Hoseok’s leg beneath the table and smiles at him.
“Listen, man, eating ass is basically a form of art. The only difference is that it doesn’t take much to master it.”
Hoseok smiles back at him, asks, “You consider yourself a master, then?”
“Well,” Yoongi shrugs while looking entirely arrogant, “I wouldn’t say that I’m not.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hoseok imitates his previous shrug.
“Nothing at all, hyung.”
This time the silence that engulfs them lasts much longer than before. Hoseok still has that smile on his face, his eyes cast down and his cheeks still a pretty pink from the alcohol he’s consumed. He lifts the glass of water and slowly drinks from it. Yoongi sips at the wine in his own glass since he still has a bit left, his eyes never leaving Hoseok.
“I wouldn’t mind enlightening you.”
At those words, Hoseok looks up again, bewilderment and curiosity written all over his face.
“What do you mean?”
“You know,” Yoongi begins to elaborate, his own face revealing a playful smirk when he says, “I could eat you out.”
Almost immediately, Hoseok begins to choke on the water he’s been sipping. Though Yoongi laughs at his dramatic reaction, he’s still kind enough to lean up onto his knees and reach across the table to pat Hoseok on the back.
“Fuck,” Hoseok curses, still coughing as his airway attempts to clear itself. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No,” says Yoongi, “but I am trying to eat your ass.”
“Shut up, shut up,” Hoseok whines as Yoongi begins laughing once more. He’s unable to keep himself from giggling along. “Why do you have to say it like that in the first place? Stop messing around…”
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”
Yoongi excuses himself to the bathroom after that, since he desperately needs to take a piss. When he returns only minutes later to find Hoseok dozing off with his head resting against the table, Yoongi can’t help smiling at the sight of it.
He decides to let him sleep, for now.
When Yoongi awakens with a minor headache and a dry mouth the next morning, he knows that the day will be a rough one.
It’s never wise to consume alcohol the night before he has to attend one of his mid-morning classes, but he sucks it up and deals with the repercussions as he goes about his morning routine. Besides, it’s not as if he’d done it for no reason at all. It had been for Hoseok’s sake and Yoongi doesn’t regret even a second of it.
His body regrets it, though.
Nonetheless, he prepares himself for class like the big boy that he is. His main motivation is that he’ll have time to stop by the little coffee shop on campus just before his class begins, and the thought of coffee and a sweet treat holds him together until he opens the front door to leave.
Yoongi opens the front door to find Hoseok on the other side of it, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The last time that they’d seen each other, Yoongi had helped him climb the long staircase to the second floor and into his own apartment. A drunken Hoseok is a whole lot heavier than normal Hoseok, Yoongi quickly learned, but he’d completed the task of escorting him to his bed without any mishaps.
Now, Hoseok stands in front of him without a single trace of last night’s endeavors. He doesn’t even look tired.
How the hell does he do it?
“Hoseok-ah?” Yoongi instinctively reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, when Hoseok fails to greet him first. “Is something wrong?”
Finally, Hoseok seems to snap out of it. He suddenly wears a smile that’s just a little too big, given the fact that it’s still a couple of hours before noon and Yoongi desperately needs some coffee in order to survive the day.
“Hey! Um. I was just—I was passing by and then, you know...” He trails off into a rather nervous laugh. “I figured I’d come by and see if you were still here because I… I kind of need to talk to you? But like, if you’re busy—”
“I have time,” Yoongi interrupts.
And it’s another one of those impulsive decisions that Yoongi makes, because it’s a decision that involves Hoseok and suddenly, coffee no longer exists. University no longer exists. Time no longer exists, either, despite the fact that he’ll be screwed if he misses the bus.
Without considering any of that, Yoongi steps aside and gestures for Hoseok to come inside. After a brief moment of hesitation, the younger nods and obeys. Yoongi closes the door behind them and watches as Hoseok’s socked feet carry him further into the apartment.
“I’ll try to get straight to the point,” Hoseok promises. He leans against the counter in the small kitchenette, his hands nervously squeezing the fabric at the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t look at Yoongi as he speaks. “So, I’ve been thinking of the things that we talked about last night and it made me realize that, like, I’ve kind of been wasting my time? Being sad and all, when there’s no reason for it.”
Despite having no clue of where Hoseok might be going with this, Yoongi nods his head to show that he’s listening, even as the nerves begin to build up in his belly. He’s already convinced himself that whatever this is, it can’t possibly be good.
“I mean, you were right!” Hoseok continues, suddenly getting a bit louder as his own nerves continue to rise. “Fuck that guy. I’m done crying over him when I’m pretty sure he’s never wasted a single tear on me, so why should I waste mine on him? Um. That probably doesn’t make any sense and, god, I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing right now. This is crazy, isn’t it?”
“Actually, it’s really crazy,” he cuts in, just before Yoongi can interrupt him this time. He even laughs at himself. “I don’t even know if you were joking or not when you said those words—which means I’m probably embarrassing myself now, fuck—but whatever! I shouldn’t… ‘knock it’ until I try it, right? Didn’t you say that, hyung? Well, in any case, I think I’ll… I’ll listen to those words.”
By the time that Hoseok finishes that lengthy and confusing tangent, he seems to have gone completely red in the face. He still refuses to look at Yoongi, his eyes focused instead on his own two feet. In any other situation, Yoongi might gently tease him about it, might even be daring enough to call him cute. Because he is cute. He’s always cute.
But in this situation, which just so happens to be a situation that Yoongi never expected to find himself in, he can barely form the words to reply.
“Hoseok,” he begins, speaking slowly and carefully in case he’s wrong and in case his heart jumps out of his fucking chest with how quickly it’s beating, at the moment, “Are you… trying to say that you want me to eat your ass?”
From the way that Hoseok immediately stiffens after hearing the crude question, Yoongi thinks that the answer is definitely yes.
All of a sudden, Hoseok shakes his head and says:
“You know what, let’s just forget that I said anything.”
Without another word, he makes an attempt at escaping. But due to the fact that he has to walk by Yoongi in order to succeed in doing so, his escape plan fails when Yoongi reaches out to grab his hand.
“Hey, hey—come back here.”
Surprisingly, Hoseok doesn’t snatch his hand away, nor does he try resisting at all when Yoongi pulls him closer until they’re standing directly in front of each other. The only reason that Yoongi doesn’t die of awkwardness is because Hoseok already looks as if he wants to do exactly that, which motivates Yoongi to be the one to suck it up and make them talk about this.
Whatever the hell this is.
He asks quietly, “Is that really what you want, Hoseokie? No joke?” It takes a moment, but Hoseok eventually nods. It’s an incredibly shy nod, but still a nod, nonetheless. “Can you say it, then?”
This time, Hoseok gives an indignant huff and still refuses to make any eye contact. It may or may not have to do with the fact that Yoongi is smiling at him now, but to be fair, it’s extremely difficult not to.
“Seriously?” he mutters.
“Come on,” Yoongi encourages, slowly stroking the back of Hoseok’s hand with his thumb. “I just want to be sure.”
It doesn’t take much more encouragement than that for Hoseok to voice his desires at last.
“I want—I want you to eat me out, okay?”
At this point, Yoongi won’t even pretend that he isn’t beaming with joy and excitement.
“Now, was that so hard?”
“Shut the hell up,” Hoseok mumbles irritably. He’s somehow become even redder. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, I think…”
“I can’t help it. You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed.” Yoongi gives his hand a gentle squeeze, just to show that he means it. “Can I ask what made you change your mind?”
“You’re going to laugh at me.”
“I promise that I won’t.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Hoseok contemplates it for just a brief moment. Then, he says:
“Well, I decided to watch some porn and—hey! You promised!”
To be fair, there’s no way that Yoongi couldn’t laugh at that answer, because it’s such a Hoseok thing to do. Who else would wake up the morning after a night of heavy drinking and decide to look up rimming porn, just because they were curious about it?
No one but Hoseok, apparently.
“I’m sorry, okay? But—” Yoongi stops as another fit of laughter threatens to escape him. “I just didn’t expect to hear that, of all things.”
“Anyway,” Hoseok continues, but Yoongi can tell that he’s trying not to laugh as well. “Point is, I watched some ass-eating porn and I thought that it actually looked really… fun, I guess you can say, and so I decided that I should definitely give it a chance? That’s all there is to it.” He glances down at the hand that Yoongi still holds, his mouth forming into a pout. “Honestly? This has to be the most awkward and embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, so I’m really trusting you here, hyung.”
“Okay, okay. I understand,” says Yoongi, because he thinks that he actually does. He also thinks that they can and should definitely do this thing, even if they only do it once, now that it’s obvious they both want to. So, he adds confidently, “Hyung will take good care of you, then.”
For the first time since entering the apartment, Hoseok actually looks up to stare into Yoongi’s eyes. He’s got that deer caught in headlights look on his face again, the very same look that gives Yoongi the greatest urge to kiss him. But for now, he keeps his lips to himself.
“Yes,” Yoongi confirms with a nod. “We can talk about it later, if you want. Right now, I really need to power walk outta here if I want to make it to class on time. Okay?”
“Okay,” Hoseok easily repeats, nodding as well. “That’s… okay, hyung.”
Only then does Yoongi let go of his hand, albeit reluctantly. He’s even more reluctant to let Hoseok walk out of his apartment when it would be so easy for him to say fuck it, and decide to skip class in order to eat Hoseok’s ass right then and there.
But Yoongi knows that good things (usually) come to those who wait.
Therefore, that’s exactly what he’ll do.
Two days later finds Yoongi standing in Hoseok’s apartment, his attention focused on the numerous figurines that decorate the horizontal surface of Hoseok’s dresser. He frowns at the strangeness of them, each figure’s eyes marked with X’s instead of pupils.
Does he have to own so many of them? They’re honestly kind of creepy.
Yoongi shakes his head and takes in the rest of his surroundings. He has to admit that, other than the occasional misplaced item on the floor or some other surface, the place almost looks like a model out of a magazine on interior designing. Hoseok’s loft is almost the exact opposite of Yoongi’s, his own walls still mostly bare because he hasn’t bothered to decorate them after the move.
In contrast, Hoseok’s apartment is filled with color and matching furniture sets. It’s not a whole lot of furniture, given the minimal space and all, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The place still looks great. Yoongi never got a chance to look at it in more detail, when he’d escorted Hoseok back upstairs the other night. He has to admit that he’s impressed.
But perhaps the most interesting detail of all is that Hoseok actually took the time to light a few scented candles for the “special occasion,” three of them placed in a triangular formation on top of his nightstand. Yoongi wanted to laugh when he walked in and noticed it because—how cute. Now, however, he really wants to ask where Hoseok bought the damn things, because they smell pretty fucking good and Yoongi loves to enjoy a nice scented candle every once in a while.
Another minute of observation passes by before Yoongi starts to feel impatient. Sighing, he walks right over to the closed bathroom door and firmly knocks with his knuckles. When Hoseok had said that he needed to clean up first, Yoongi never thought that it’d take this long.
“Hoseok-ah,” he whines with the sole purpose of being annoying, “are you almost finished now? Please say yes.”
“Just give me another minute!” comes Hoseok’s muffled voiced from the other side.
“You said that, like, ten minutes ago.” Yoongi groans and rests his forehead against the door. In a sing-song voice, he says, “Come out, come out, wherever you are. Hyung wants to eat your ass already.”
He uses the door to muffle his own laughter. From within the bathroom, Hoseok immediately threatens to never come out again if Yoongi doesn’t shut the fuck up, please. The only reason that Yoongi obeys is because, well, at least he said please.
Heaving another restless sigh, Yoongi moves away from the door in order to toss himself onto the bed. The bedframe instantly creaks in protest, making Yoongi scrunch his nose up at the sound. He sort of can’t believe that he’s lying in the same spot where Hoseok had had pitiful sex with his douchebag of an ex-boyfriend, often resulting in the disturbance of Yoongi’s beauty sleep.
There’s something terribly ironic about the situation that’s about to unfold, as soon as Hoseok comes out of the fucking bath—
The bathroom door comes open with a soft creaking sound, followed by even softer footsteps. Yoongi leans back up into a sitting position and, honest-to-god, nearly loses his breath at the sight of Hoseok in nothing but a single towel wrapped loosely around his hips.
Maybe even too gorgeous, with his caramel colored skin and lean muscle—quite a lot of muscle, actually, from his biceps to his stomach and then his thighs. God, his fucking legs in general are getting Yoongi more excited by the second. It’s the first time that he’s seen them like this, since the winter season forces Hoseok to hide them in tight jeans and baggy sweatpants.
In fact, Yoongi doesn’t realize that he’s blatantly staring until Hoseok awkwardly clears his throat. Only then does Yoongi glance back up to his face, noting the deep shade of pink in Hoseok’s adorable balloon-shaped cheeks. He purses his lips and Yoongi still wants to kiss them.
“Why are you still dressed?” asks Hoseok, brows furrowed in confusion.
Yoongi glances down at his black skull t-shirt and his black ripped jeans as if just now remembering that they exist. When his eyes inevitably wander back over to Hoseok standing just a few feet away, all that he can do is shrug.
“This whole thing is about pleasing you, though. Not the other way around.” With a teasing grin, he moves one of his hands towards the button of his jeans. “Unless you want me to be naked?”
For a second there, it looks as if Hoseok seriously considers the offer. Eventually, he shrugs as well.
“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”
“What’s wrong?” asks Yoongi, taking notice of the obvious tension in the room. “Haven’t you ever hooked up with anyone before?”
“Of course I have,” he insists. But he crosses his arms over his chest, a defensive stance. “It’s just been a long time… I’m a little nervous, okay?”
He says it as if that last statement isn’t painfully obvious already, because it most certainly is. Luckily for him, Yoongi is good at being able to tell when it’s time to stop joking and become serious. Yoongi also may or may not have a natural instinct for taking care of others and providing comfort.
“Come here,” he says, “give me your hands.”
The confused frown from before makes a reappearance in Hoseok’s expression, but he tentatively obeys those words anyway. When he reaches the edge of the bed where Yoongi sits, he allows the elder to take both of his hands. He allows Yoongi to gently squeeze them. He allows Yoongi, once again, to look into his eyes before speaking up.
“Now, tell me that you don’t want me to eat your ass.”
“What the hell?” Hoseok mutters. He shakes his head. “No.”
“That settles it, then.” Yoongi grins from ear to ear and squeezes his hands once more before letting go. “Can you turn around for me?”
Hoseok completes the request with relative ease, shifting his body around until he’s facing the opposite way. Yoongi keeps him close by placing his hands on Hoseok’s irresistible hips. Then, his fingers carefully slide in between the soft towel and the heated skin that it hides beneath.
“Can I take this off?” he asks next.
A nod of consent. Without wasting another moment, Yoongi easily removes the towel and allows it to drop to the floor in a heap near Hoseok’s feet. He immediately notices the way that the younger stiffens up a little, now that he’s completely bare. Yoongi forgoes gawking at Hoseok’s naked form in favor of making sure that he’s comfortable, first by asking if he’d still like to go through with this. Hoseok instantly replies that he does, and that he also wants Yoongi to touch him now, goddammit.
His impatience is both adorable and understandable, since Yoongi feels it, too. And so without further ado, he places both hands on Hoseok’s ass and spreads his cheeks apart. Yoongi intakes a breath when he’s met with freshly shaven skin and a puckered hole—the very hole that he wants to explore more than anything else in the world, right about now.
“You clean up nicely,” Yoongi comments.
Hoseok starts to form a response, but all that comes out of his mouth is a surprised gasp when Yoongi leans forward and begins pressing soft kisses to the skin over his tailbone. He hums in satisfaction from the sensation of Yoongi’s warm fingers kneading his skin, slowly working him up and getting him into the mood without making any sort of contact with his entrance.
“How does this feel?” Yoongi asks in between the soft kisses, his hands never ceasing their movement. “Is this okay?”
“Y-Yeah,” Hoseok sighs. The quietest whimper escapes him when Yoongi suddenly nips his skin, then soothes the slight sting with a flick of his tongue. “Fuck—it’s really good, hyung. I like that a lot…”
When it becomes clear that Hoseok is much more relaxed than he’d been before they started, only then does Yoongi move forward.
“Get on the bed for me.”
The sudden command takes a brief moment for Hoseok’s brain to process, but when it finally does, he nearly stumbles in his haste to spin around and do as he’s been told. Yoongi chuckles at his clumsy excitement, finding it absolutely cute.
“How do you want me…?” asks Hoseok, who pauses upon realizing that he doesn’t quite know which position is best for this type of thing.
Even so, Yoongi decides to leave it up to him.
“Your choice, Hoseok-ah. Whichever way is comfortable for you, I guess.”
Hoseok nods but doesn’t move immediately. After a moment of deliberation, he scrambles around on the mattress in all of his naked glory until he ends up lying on his stomach. His lower half remains in the air, hips wiggling in a teasing manner as he waits for Yoongi to accept the invite. God, he has no idea how much Yoongi really fucking wants to, but first he grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and positions it beneath Hoseok so that he can be a little more comfortable.
“Hyung, I gotta say,” Hoseok begins, his voice half muffled by his face pressed into the mattress, “for all your previous whining about how long it took me in the shower, you sure are taking your sweet time—oh.”
The first drag of Yoongi’s warm, wet tongue across his skin forces Hoseok into temporary silence. The unfamiliar sensation against his hole clearly takes him by surprise, his hips stuttering in an attempt to shy away from it. At the same time, he begins pushing back against Yoongi, wanting more.
Yoongi’s hands spread Hoseok’s cheeks even wider, and he’s unable to stop himself from laughing quietly, his breath hot and teasing over the sensitive area. Hoseok shamelessly whines as he buries his face deeper into the mattress, hands fisting into the sheets. At the second drag of Yoongi’s tongue pressed flat over his rim, Hoseok gasps and shies away from it again.
“Hold still, will you?”
“Sorry, it—it tickles a bit,” Hoseok mumbles; but when Yoongi begins circling the area with the very tip of his tongue, the loudest, most beautiful whimper escapes him instead. “Shit, that—oh god—that right there, d-don’t stop doing that. Please, hyung…”
Though the other can’t possibly see it, Yoongi nods and makes sure to continue giving him exactly what he wants. It fills him with pride to hear the sexy noises that Hoseok begins making nonstop, his body already trembling from the gradual buildup of pleasure within himself.
To help ease some of the pressure, Hoseok reaches in between his legs to grasp his neglected cock. He gets about two strokes in before Yoongi gently pushes his hand away, resulting in another shameless and vocal whine from Hoseok.
“Not yet,” Yoongi tells him, and then he presses a single kiss against Hoseok’s rim. “Just wait a bit, okay?”
Despite the frustrated groan that Hoseok gives in response, he doesn’t try reaching for his cock again. Yoongi rewards him by circling his hole with his tongue again, loving the way that it’s become so wet and shiny from the saliva. Loving the way that Hoseok desperately pushes back against his tongue, loving the way that Hoseok belongs to him, in this moment.
“You taste so fucking good, Hoseokie,” Yoongi groans. His fingernails dig into the soft skin of Hoseok’s ass, his nails leaving crescent moon shapes along the soft skin when he briefly loosens his tight grip. “God—so fucking good, wish you could taste yourself, too.”
The response that he gets is another deep groan buried into the mattress, just before Hoseok lifts his head and attempts to watch Yoongi from over his shoulder. It doesn’t appear to be the easiest task for him, both of his arms trembling uncontrollably as he pushes himself up a little. Yoongi can see the tears that have formed in his bright, beautiful eyes, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep himself from making so much noise.
But that isn’t what Yoongi wants at all.
He wants to see Hoseok lose control.
Without warning, Yoongi circles the spit-slicked skin with the pad of his index finger and then presses against it. He doesn’t have to wait for a reaction, receiving one immediately when Hoseok gasps and pushes back against the finger. He gives up the futile attempt of watching, letting his upper body fall back against the mattress like a ragdoll. Yoongi carefully presses the finger into him without going too deep. He really wishes that he had asked Hoseok about the location of where he keeps his lube, before they had started any of this, but oh well. They’ll just have to work with this for now.
“Is this okay?” he asks, just to be sure, as he fingers Hoseok open for a short while before removing the digit entirely and replacing it with his tongue again. It certainly helps in the long-run, allowing his tongue to travel just a bit deeper.
Hoseok has become an incoherent mess in the process. Yoongi thinks that the garbled-up words that come from him sound a lot like please and don’t stop and even I’m so close, the latter prompting Yoongi to remove his tongue and say:
“Touch yourself, then.”
And Hoseok doesn’t need to be told twice, his right hand automatically reaching between his legs again to firmly grasp and stroke his leaking cock. The sound of his fist against his skin combined with the obscenely wet noises of Yoongi’s tongue against him, are most likely what pushes him over the edge.
Hoseok finally comes with a drawn-out moan of Yoongi’s name, his spunk leaking against the sheets and all over his fist. Yoongi groans at the feeling of Hoseok’s muscles clenching around his tongue. He doesn’t pull his face away until Hoseok whimpers and squirms, overstimulated.
Leaning back, Yoongi wipes the saliva from around his mouth with the back of his hand and admires his work. Hoseok lies completely flat against the mattress now, his body still twitching a bit from the powerful orgasm that shook him to the core. As his rapid breathing begins to slow, Yoongi crawls up the side of the mattress to lie down beside him. The smile that he wears is a prideful one.
“How was that?” Yoongi asks, reaching out with a hand to brush aside the bangs from Hoseok’s sweaty forehead. “Was it good for you?”
“Give me a minute,” comes Hoseok’s late response. His eyes remain closed. “I just… I need to catch my breath.”
The quiet laughter that escapes Yoongi is made of pure satisfaction.
Moments later, when Hoseok is breathing normally and appears to remember what planet he’s currently inhabiting, he finally opens his eyes again. He almost looks shy when he finds Yoongi smiling at him, but then his eyes drift south and—
“You didn’t finish,” Hoseok points out, eyes glued to the obvious hard-on in Yoongi’s too-tight jeans. But before Yoongi can even remind him of their very reason for doing this, Hoseok says: “Here, let me.”
All of a sudden, his fingers are fiddling with the stubborn button of Yoongi’s jeans. He eventually pops them open, followed by the zipper, and Yoongi watches with his heart in his throat as Hoseok weakly attempts to remove these obstacles. He finally decides to be helpful when he lifts his hips, tugging the jeans and underwear down enough to free his heavy cock that springs back up against his stomach.
Another audible whine escapes Hoseok at the sight of it, and then it’s as if he’s suddenly regained all of his strength. He scoots closer to Yoongi’s body, one of his hands already pumping Yoongi’s cock while the other hand tries desperately to push Yoongi’s shirt northwards. Yoongi decides to help him with that as well, and he manages to pull his shirt up to his chest when Hoseok’s mouth immediately attaches to his skin.
“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, intense heat rapidly pooling in the center of his gut as Hoseok licks and sucks his nipple, his hand never stopping in the task of jerking Yoongi off as if his life depends on it. Yoongi repeats, “Fuck, I’m—”
“Come,” Hoseok urges him, tongue licking across his chest. “Do it, let me see you…”
And Yoongi comes on the spot, his balls tightening almost painfully as he covers his own stomach and Hoseok’s fist with his come. The younger praises him with whispers of yes and so good, hyung, so beautiful. As Yoongi comes back down from it, Hoseok kisses the side of his neck. He waits until Yoongi finally looks at him again and, without a word, licks Yoongi’s come from his hand.
“Shit, you’re so fucking hot,” Yoongi rasps. “Come here.”
He places a hand at the back of Hoseok’s head and pulls him into a deep kiss, their tongues twirling together as they taste each other and themselves. It’s the hottest thing that Yoongi’s ever done, he thinks, and by the time that they both pull away for air, he starts to feel euphoria.
They lie there silently for a short moment, Hoseok’s nose pressed to the crook of Yoongi’s neck, before Yoongi finally pulls away.
“Wait—you’re leaving?” asks Hoseok, whose eyes go wide with panic, hands clinging to Yoongi’s arm.
“Of course not.” Yoongi reassures him with a gentle pat to the head. “But I need to clean you up now.” He glances down at the come beginning to dry on his own stomach and wrinkles his nose. “Okay, and also myself.”
“Oh.” Hoseok releases his arm then, looking embarrassed as he stares down at the mattress. “It’s okay, I can go and do that myself.”
He tries to push himself up from the bed, his limbs trembling from the effort. Yoongi rolls his eyes and places a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, urging him to stay right where he is because he’s obviously not going anywhere, anytime soon.
“Hoseok-ah, seriously. Just let hyung handle things, alright?”
It takes a moment, but Hoseok eventually nods. Yoongi plants a big, wet kiss on his forehead before leaving him to retreat into the bathroom instead. It takes only seconds for him to locate a small towel, soak it with warm water, and clean the mess from his skin. Afterwards, he rinses it out in the sink and makes sure that the temperature is nice and warm before returning to the bedroom.
Hoseok lies on his stomach again in the center of the large bed, hardly moving at all. He still doesn’t move when Yoongi carefully climbs back onto the mattress with the damp towel in hand.
“Are you actually asleep?” he inquires.
“Nuh-uh,” Hoseok mutters, followed by a yawn. “I’m just resting my eyes.”
Yoongi smiles at him. “Sure you are.”
He takes the towel and begins using it to carefully clean the area over Hoseok’s ass and in between his cheeks. The other hums at the gentle touch, clearly enjoying it.
“I swear that I don’t usually get this way after fooling around,” Hoseok begins to say, speaking slowly from exhaustion. “But damn… that was definitely the hardest I’ve come in a really, really long time.”
His confession gets another smile out of Yoongi, his cheeks heating up at the praise.
“I’m glad to be of service, then.”
“I really owe you one, hyung.”
“Owe me?” He nudges Hoseok in the side until he lazily turns over onto his back, allowing Yoongi to clean his stomach. Hoseok keeps his eyes closed as he goes about the task. “What do you mean, sleepyhead?”
“You were right, before.” Another yawn. “I shouldn’t have knocked it ‘til I tried it.”
It’s inevitable when Yoongi laughs at those words.
“Well, we never made any sort of bet on that, so you don’t owe me anything.” When he determines that Hoseok is clean enough, Yoongi tosses the towel onto the floor, telling himself that he’ll deal with it later. “There. All done.”
After a moment, Hoseok finally opens his eyes again. He stares at Yoongi with an odd expression on his face, as if it’s the first time that they’re seeing each other and he can’t decide on what to say, what to think. Yoongi only stares back at him, amused.
“Is it okay if we cuddle now?” Hoseok asks all of a sudden.
Yoongi answers simply, “Sure, if you want.”
He starts to lie down on his side, but Hoseok quickly stops him from doing so. The younger frowns at him, saying:
“Not like this. It’s awkward if you have your clothes on while I’m still completely naked.”
“Fine, fine. Jesus.”
But Yoongi isn’t actually bothered, as he stands from the bed and finishes the task of properly removing his clothes. Hoseok watches him the entire time as he pulls his shirt over his head and slides out of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his plain black boxers. After that, Hoseok makes grabby hands for him and Yoongi obediently moves towards the bed again.
“Better?” he asks, once Hoseok is clinging to him like an octopus all over again.
“Much,” says Hoseok, who proceeds to yawn for the third time. He presses his face to Yoongi’s neck. “Do you have to be anywhere soon?”
“Not really.” But then a gentle reminder appears within Yoongi’s mind and he sighs, remembering his ‘studio date’ with Namjoon. “Well, not until around four, actually…”
“Give me about half an hour, then. I just need to recharge and then I’ll be ready for round two, if you’re up for it.”
He feels it when Hoseok smiles against his neck, the younger teasingly grinding his body up against Yoongi’s in offering. It’s ridiculously stupid, ridiculously cute, and Yoongi snorts because he can’t believe how much he’s into this guy.
He replies, “Hey, I’m down for anything.”
As it turns out, Hoseok falls asleep less than five minutes later. What’s even funnier is that he falls asleep in the middle of his sentence, his words drifting off into gibberish until he stops talking completely. Yoongi tries not to laugh to avoid disturbing the guy, and it’s the hardest thing that he’s ever tried to do. But he manages to stay silent and Hoseok manages to remain asleep.
An entire hour goes by with Yoongi alternating between dozing off and watching Hoseok’s sleeping form. He never quite enters a deep sleep because he doesn’t allow himself to, but it’s still the most peaceful nap that Yoongi has had in a while—mostly because he doesn’t have the luxury, these days.
Eventually, he knows that he has to get up unless he wants to deal with a pouty Namjoon. Yoongi reluctantly sacrifices the warmth of Hoseok’s naked body next to his own in order to redress. He’s careful to extract himself from the other’s grasp, moving slowly like the world’s most skilled ninja until Hoseok is no longer clinging to him. Admittedly, Yoongi misses that warmth already.
Once fully clothed and ready to go, he sits on the edge of the mattress.
“Hey,” he calls out, gently shaking Hoseok by the shoulder. “Wakey, wakey, Hoseokie.”
When that doesn’t work, Yoongi playfully tugs at Hoseok’s earlobe and pinches his nose, forcing his body to wake up when it realizes that he’s not getting enough air. Hoseok groans and swats at Yoongi’s hand, but then he opens his eyes at last to glare up at the elder.
“Hyung?” He blinks several times, looking adorably confused. “What’re you doing?”
“I have to get going so that I can meet Namjoon in the studio, but I didn’t want to leave you without letting you know.”
“Oh… okay,” Hoseok responds, albeit at a snail’s pace. “How long was I out?”
“Roughly an hour, I think.”
“Shit,” he curses. “I missed the thirty minute window.”
Yoongi laughs and says, “Don’t worry about it, there’s always next time.” But then he pauses, realizing that he’s just making an assumption, and quickly tries to correct himself, “I-I mean, if you want to…”
“Of course I want to,” Hoseok says with ease. He leans forward to kiss Yoongi’s hand, then nuzzles it. “Now get going or you’ll be late.”
The sheer amount of softness in his affectionate action brings a funny feeling to Yoongi’s stomach. But before he even realizes it, Hoseok has already fallen back to sleep. It brings a smile to Yoongi’s face, makes him want to come back as soon as he can.
Because Hoseok wants to do this again, and Yoongi can hardly wait.
Yoongi blinks as the balled-up scrap of paper hits him in the center of his forehead, then falls to his chest. He turns his head to glare at Namjoon, who sits in the chair in front of the desk, his brand-new track playing from the computer speakers in front of him.
There isn’t anyone else in the small studio aside from them. Yet, Namjoon innocently stares at the computer screen as if he didn’t just throw a piece of paper at Yoongi, like some six-year-old in need of attention. How annoying. Yoongi considers throwing the paper back at him to get revenge, but then he would be the six-year-old, so instead he slouches even more on the comfortable couch and flips Namjoon off.
“Wanna explain what that was for?”
“You’re not paying attention to me,” Namjoon says, simple as that.
Yoongi decides to tease him a bit. “I’m sorry, baby. Come and sit in papa’s lap?”
“Fuck off, hyung.”
Yoongi laughs in the face of that weak insult, just because he can and just because he wants to. But even if Namjoon tries to hide his pout, it’s more visible than anything else. Yoongi has never been able to withstand the power of a dongsaeng’s pout, and it’s the only reason that he sighs and decides to get serious.
Or, at least a little bit serious, anyway.
“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Joon-ah. I already told you that the track sounds good, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but that’s all that you said about it. I was hoping for a bit of constructive criticism, you know?”
“Truthfully? I don’t think that it needs anything else.” Yoongi takes the crumpled piece of paper from before and tosses it into the air, then easily catches it when gravity pulls it back down. “It’s perfect the way that it is, not too simple but not over-complicated, either. Honestly, if you keep trying to look for flaws in your work, then that’s all that you’ll end up finding.”
As he speaks, Namjoon nods to indicate that he’s still listening, taking Yoongi’s words to heart. At least he isn’t pouting anymore, though. Yoongi mentally pats himself on the back, a job well-done.
“Thanks, Yoda,” Namjoon eventually teases. But it’s obvious from his grin that he appreciates the words of advice. “Anyway, what’s got you so distracted today? You seem strangely cheerful.”
“Me? Distracted?” Yoongi shakes his head at the accusation. “Nonsense.”
His too-perceptive friend doesn’t fall for that, of course.
“What, did you finally get laid or something?” Namjoon jokes—and then his eyes widen in shock when Yoongi doesn’t immediately tell him to fuck off like he usually would. “Holy shit, you actually did?”
“Wow, I don’t know why you sound so surprised?” Frowning now, Yoongi rolls the crumpled paper between both of his palms, refusing to meet Namjoon’s eyes. “You know, that kind of hurts my feelings.”
“Hyung! Did you or didn’t you?”
A brief moment of silence. Then, with a deep blush rising to his cheeks at the same time that his mouth curves into a sly grin, Yoongi confesses.
“Okay, yeah, I did.”
It’s kind of annoying when Namjoon leans over and slaps him on the knee, as if this is totally the greatest accomplishment of Yoongi’s young adult life. Even so, he finds that it’s rather difficult to stop smiling, various images of Hoseok flashing through his mind at once.
“Congrats,” says Namjoon, lips twisting into a teasing smile. “Was he good-looking? Or, more importantly, was it good?”
“I’m not telling you anything, you voyeur.” Yoongi goes back to boredly tossing the paper into the air. It’s mostly to hide the fact that he hasn’t stopped blushing yet. “But if I were to hypothetically tell you anything at all, then yes. He’s very good-looking and it was very good. So there.”
“It was Hoseok, wasn’t it?”
The paper hits Yoongi in the eye this time around, when the shock of Namjoon’s correct guess makes him falter. What’s even worse is that Namjoon immediately starts cracking up, like he’s just discovered the secrets of the universe and that it somehow involves God’s asshole.
“Shut the hell up, it’s not even that funny…”
But Namjoon continues laughing anyway, not stopping until his lungs cry for air and his stomach begins to ache. It serves him right for being such a little know-it-all.
“You’re just really obvious sometimes, hyung. You should practice being more discreet about your sexual escapades.”
“You tricked me, asshole. But whatever.”
As if trying to make up for laughing at him, Namjoon makes a heart gesture with his index finger and thumb. Yoongi flips him off again. Both of them smile at each other like a couple of idiots, because that’s exactly what they are.
“So, did you ask him out?” Namjoon questions, yet returns most of his attention to the computer screen again. “Is he your boyfriend now?”
Yoongi answers truthfully, “He’s not my boyfriend and I didn’t ask him out. We’re taking things slow, I guess? Keeping it casual or whatever. For Hoseok’s sake.”
He tries not to read into it too much, when Namjoon gives him an odd look before facing the computer once more. He clicks on a few things to make some minor adjustments, but Yoongi knows that he’s just trying to look busy. It bothers Yoongi whether he wants to admit it or not, so he says:
“If there’s something that you need to say, then just say it.”
“It’s nothing, hyung,” Namjoon insists. “I mean—it’s none of my business, but I just think that you and casual don’t really go so well together.”
A frown settles upon Yoongi’s face as he listens to those words. Namjoon is right, though. It isn’t any of his business.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks anyway.
Namjoon only shrugs, then, “I don’t know, you’ve just always cared so much about people, I guess. Like, I feel that when it comes to most things out there, it’s either all or nothing for you. You either care about it more than anything else, or you don’t care at all, if that makes sense.”
Rather than getting upset or offended, Yoongi tries to understand those words from an outside point of view—not that it’s particularly easy, given the fact that he’s been Min Yoongi from birth and he can’t exactly stop being Min Yoongi. Nonetheless, he thinks that he sort of gets it.
Even if he doesn’t really agree with it at all.
Just because he can and just because he wants to, Yoongi tosses the crumpled paper at the back of Namjoon’s big head.
“Well, I feel like there’s a hidden compliment in there somewhere, but I still want to punch you, for some reason.”
When Namjoon simply laughs about it and shakes his head, Yoongi decides not to get too hung up over those words.