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Heavy Metal Love Of Mine

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They, his mother and brother and himself, have moved around a lot during Hoseok's childhood. They moved around a lot but no matter what place they were, he remembers always watching his mom sewing and sketching colorful costumes in the corner of the current living room, hunched over her tiny desk, illuminated by a faint yellow light bulb, face sharp and concentrated, while he and his brother spent time creating short silly comics about dinosaurs and talking plants until she told them to sleep, tucking them in before going back to work. The clicking sounds of the sewing machine being the last thing echoing in his tiny head before sleeping for the night.

The last time they moved houses was to stay with his mom's mom, who always watched Inkigayo on her old swinging chair. It was a nice apartment, Hoseok had his own room, he was 14 at that time, and he didn't stay home a lot, too busy wandering his mind and body around, racing and chasing cars on the street on his bike, moving his legs until they hurt and his chest wasn't so tight anymore. He stayed outside to breathe and to run, to put that dullness in a corner of this mind to make it seem it wasn't there at all. It worked most of the time, but he had a curfew, and he respected his mother, so he would always go back no matter how bad his heart was itching for something else.

It's still like this these days, but he isn't living at home anymore, at least, not staying too long anyway, and now he plays guitar in a band and crashes wherever the fuck he is offered to, usually at Namjoon's couch because Namjoon is too nice and worries about him. Namjoon is good company anyway. That's what Hoseok makes himself think, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind always convinces him to stay around for another reason too… if Namjoon is in the scene there is 67% of chance their rhythm guitar guy will come around at some point in the night, and if he doesn't come it is okay too, he and Namjoon would write riffs and lyrics and loosely chat for hours. Everything would be fine.

Yoongi came by though, it was super late and god knows where he's been but he smelled like sweat and cigarettes. He didn't seem to care that Hoseok was sleeping on the couch because he just dropped his ass where Hoseok's legs were resting and didn't move not even to accommodate himself on the bones he was on top of until Hoseok woke up slowly, finding his mind first to think about what heck was going on, then, squinting in the dark he saw someone and his heart skipped a few beats.

“The fuck you're doing here,” he put his weight on his elbows to look up, voice laced with sleep, “trynna make me scream and give me a heart attack?”

“Shhh… why you so loud at this time in the morning?” Yoongi laughed faintly. “Just… hold on.”

Yoongi got his ass up for a few seconds and lifted Hoseok's legs to position them on his lap. “There.”

Hoseok kept looking up, his vision adjusted to the lack of light at night, and he could see that Yoongi had his eyes closed, head thrown back on the top of the couch, hands loosely curling around Hoseok's ankles. He seemed very tired, a little bit breathless, heavy.

Suddenly Yoongi was looking at his direction and Hoseok didn't know for how long he must have been staring, but Yoongi didnt look troubled by that at all, just kept staring right back, breathing in the silence, in the damp late night.

“Do you remember my drawing?” Hoseok asked out of the blue. “Remember me that day?” He tapped one of Yoongi's bony thighs with his socked foot.

The sound of fabric ruffling seemed a bit to loud in the quiet of the apartment. Yoongi turned around, confused by the question, but then realization took over his eyes.

“Ah, yes.” He gave a small smile. “I do. I do remember.”

It was a drawing Hoseok did several months ago, of Taehyung's favorite band, before meeting any of these guys. It was very caricature-like, kind of ugly in a fun way. Somehow it ended up back in Hoseok's hands, when he worked at the music store. It was a little awkward because someone entered the store and walked to the counter to ask him in a very serious tone.

“Are you... Hobi…?” The guy asked while looking up and down from the paper seeming like he wasn't so sure if he got the name right or not.

“Uh, yeah, that's me.” Hoseok replied but it sounded more like a question.

“Cool doodle, bro.” The man slapped the piece of crumply paper on the counter and left just as quick as he came in.

A week later, when Hoseok had scheduled an audition for the band that he is now a part of, he found out that that guy was Yoongi, but he acted like he never saw Hoseok in his life until then. So Hoseok didn't think about it either, whatever, Yoongi that day seemed preoccupied with something else, speaking on the phone, only leaving it behind to storm off without saying a word to anyone. And since no one seemed to even acknowledge what had happened, he decided to follow their lead and ignored the situation as well.

Hoseok kicked his foot lightly on Yoongi's thigh again and laughed quietly, sweetly, more air than anything.

“What was that about? Thought you were crazy.”

Yoongi didn't say anything, just smiled showing all of his teeth, his eyes squinting. He shook his head and sighed humorously, like Hoseok said the funniest unbelievable thing he's ever heard, never taking his eyes off him, very fond.

When the silence took over the space once more and their breaths were even again, Yoongi asked quietly, with a tilt of his head, to Hoseok scoot over, so he could fit in the space between Hoseok's arms.

Holding Yoongi like that felt a little bit strange. It felt a little strange because he felt like he still couldn't understand him, but who understands anyone really? brains are too knotted up and so full and so sinuous that not even its owner can really understand it, too much of raw emotions and wicked behaviors that it seems kinda dumb to want to try and figure it out. Why figure it out?

Hoseok watched Yoongi under so many different lights now that he decided he was being a little unfair and caring a little too much before.

It's the way that Yoongi carries himself quietly to his acoustic after getting back from lord knows where, where it clearly had made his skin thin and tense ready to snap at any giant blow or at any speck of dust that would dare to land on it. At these moments he always seems to be holding something down within himself, and if he is anything like Hoseok, Hoseok should know when to step back, to let Yoongi collect all his anger and all that heavy dust that has been peeled away from his chest by the pure force of his heart. It's the way Yoongi shows them the new riff he came up with and all the ideas he has for a new song, and the rasp of his voice when he sings a few lines from his beat up notebook, or even when he dances in that very odd way and everyone knows damn well he doesn't care at all if people think it's funny or whatever. Hoseok is so hooked up that he sees it even in the way Yoongi holds his glass and cigarette all in one hand, and how he blinks how he just looks at people around him. It's something that, to Hoseok, only Yoongi has, and he doesn't really know what it is even when he can list everything that holds this particular Something in Yoongi. it's just Yoongi.

So, there was a Hoseok with a Yoongi in his arms thinking about a lot of things at once. things that didn't even make a lot of sense to him in that moment if Hoseok was being honest. He thought to himself “what the fuck am I doing” and closed his eyes and seized the extra warmth he's gotten at that moment.