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The Eiffel's a joke (and the punchline is me)

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“What do you mean your flight is delayed?” Hoseok cries on to the phone as he turns his face to Yoongi who’s barely –very barely– awake in this new, unforgiving time zone. “By how much?” 

There’s silence on the line. “At least two days.” Jimin’s voice explains. “All Seoul-Paris flights are cancelled until friday due to a routing problem or whatever but at least they’re giving us free flights as a refund after this.” 

Yoongi shifts in his place. “I told them not to use their miles. That airline is sketchy as fuck.”

And he did, six months ago, while the seven of them were planning this trip on Namjoon’s living room, laptops open and eyes scanning for the cheapest flights. Him and Hoseok had decided to splurge on the plane ticket while the rest of them gave up within the first hour and decided to use their miles on that shitty airline they used for domestic travelling. 

The prospect of being in Paris for two days without the rest presents itself as a slight inconvenience, like maybe ordering too many food or having to see a movie twice and either way Yoongi is still too tired to even understand the situation.

 

Hoseok ends the call abruptly, seemingly annoyed at the fact that the real itinerary for their trip –which involved everyone in one way or another– was paused for two days (if they were lucky). 

“So I guess you’re stranded with me for two days in Paris.” Yoongi cracks open an eye as he sees Hoseok’s phone drop on his lap in defeat. “I’ll try to be more fun, I promise.”

Hoseok sighs. 

 

It’s easier for Yoongi to handle the awkwardness that comes when he’s asleep all the way from the airport to the hotel. The uber driver doesn’t speak a lick of english and nor do they, but a quick pointing to a map and a couple of “here please” and “no french”s later they find themselves on the way to an actual bed and a toilet. 

After they take the only room they can and explaining the hostess how five sevenths of their party might come slightly late to their check in, Yoongi takes his time in admiring the hotel they’ve booked. It’s rather old to say the least taking in account that they did try to save as much as possible when planning the trip; there’s a set of stairs in the shape of a spiral and the ceilings are high, so high that Yoongi might ignore the malfunctioning and totally not up to code elevator that waits for them. Is one of those elevators, the ones where there’s a little gate you have to slide to get in and secure once you’ve stepped inside, the bellboy looks at them in a funny way. 

Yoongi glares at Hoseok and the latter has his face contorted in a way he can’t decypher, probably still upset at the fact that the rest of the boys won’t be there for their first two days in Paris or maybe –and this one seems the most racional– Hoseok laments that of all of them it had to be Yoongi the one he’s stuck with.

 

 And hey , he totally gets it. He’s not Taehyung or Namjoon to go to the Louvre and admire the paintings and take artsy pictures and ponder about the darks and whites of life. He’s not Jimin and Jungkook either to go sightseeing and take all the clichè embarrassing pictures and hit the 10 kilometer mark in their fitbits. And he isn’t Seokjin to do a quick yelp research to find the best eating spots and make bad jokes regarding the fact that sometimes french people eat snails and frogs. 

He isn’t any of them, he’s Yoongi, who’s most likely to spend the first twenty seven hours sleeping to adjust to the time zone, order room service and watch Strong Girl Bong-Soon on his cellphone off the hotel’s wifi –which was his number one priority when picking hospedation. 

It’s totally understandable that Hoseok is disappointed and Yoongi feels somewhat guilty about it. 

When they are nearing the fourth floor and the bell is about to ring indicating that they should get out –preferably as soon as possible since this elevator might be full of surprises– he picks tenderly at Hoseok side and the other looks at him dumbfounded. 

“Seokie.” His voice calls, sleepy still and the door opens. Hoseok tries to convey a small smile but it feels forced and awkward and Yoongi might give him a second or two before he continues. 

Like perfect timing, the bellboy invites them to the hallway and points at their room. 

They take their bags on their own grasp and take the two steps needed from the elevator to the threshold. The key is a key and that says a lot. Not a card but a literal key with the number of the room attached to it by a small metal plaque. And of course they got a room with just one bed, a small TV and a balcony that if you squint almost inhumanly, you might see the Eiffel Tower. If this trip was starting off wrong, why not freestyle it and add the fact that they are sharing a bed.

 

 It’s not the fact that it’s only a bed– “They’re half the price and we are well educated, deconstructed men that know that sleeping in a bed with your bro shouldn’t be weird especially if you’re saving the money to invest it in tours and attractions!” Jimin had said once he’d made the reservation and found six pairs of angry eyes looking at him– but it’s the fact that their sleeping arrangement was completely different with Hoseok sharing the room with Taehyung and Yoongi sleeping on a bed of his own. 

 

“So I guess we’ll have to share until the rest come. When they arrive you can get your own bed.” Hoseok sighs as he sets his bags on the floor and heads to the bathroom. 

Yoongi flops on to the bed, leaving his baggage right where he left it once they dropped from his hands in front of the now closed door. 

And by all means Yoongi plans to follow his previously arranged schedule. 

 

13:00 hrs: get to paris.

14:00 hrs: get to the hotel.

14:30 hrs: remove pants.

14:35 hrs: order food.

15:00 hrs: pass the fuck out. 

 

It’s a great plan, packed with fun activities and enough time for spiritual introspection for Yoongi whose first vacations in two years are in a country in which he’s not familiar with the language nor the food nor the proxemic. It’s a fantastic plan for Yoongi who barely gets any sleep nor the chance to catch up on his favorite dramas. It’s an amazing plan for Yoongi who likes quiet away from the tourist craze and walking too much and eating overpriced food he might as well is not even going to enjoy. 

It’s the perfect plan for Yoongi but not for Hoseok. 

 

He cracks an eye open and looks at his watch –an old casio digital watch his father gave him when he graduated college, sturdy black plastic and bright green letters, scratches from normal tear and wear– and notices that it’s 14:35 p.m and he hasn’t taken off his pants yet. He’s already behind on schedule, this poses as a big problem, an ever bigger one when Hoseok steps out of the bathroom and Yoongi can clearly see the misery in his eyes. 

“Seokie.” he says and he tries to ignore how Hoseok did the real life equivalent of leaving him on read back on the elevator when he tried to talk to him. Hoseok looks up from where he’d been looking and turns to him. “If you want to take off your pants, you can, I don’t care.” 

Yoongi ponders about it as his thumb dips on the all too tight waistband of his black sweatpants, how orgasmic it would be to be on his boxers and eat chinese food. He shakes his head. 

 

“No, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere.”

The words that leave Yoongi’s mouth takes both of them by surprise. Wait for me Guk-doo and Min-hyuk, I’ll come back to you, I promise , he thinks as he glances at his cellphone. Hoseok looks like he’s been shot with cold water.  He’s surprised and somehow offended by Yoongi’s sudden change of heart. 

 

“Going somewhere.” He says as if maybe speaking it would make it make sense. “With you.” he adds, the words still being so foreign in a way that Yoongi might as well had spoke to him in french. “ Going somewhere with you?

Yoongi rolls his eyes and shifts on the bed and grabs his phone. 

“I’m as shocked as you are.” he mutters as he takes the small notepad sheet he’d been carrying all the way from Seoul and a pen from the bedside table. He scratches the whole thing.  

 

13:00 hrs: get to paris.

14:00 hrs: get to the hotel.

14:30 hrs: remove pants.

14:35 hrs: order food.

15:00 hrs: pass the fuck out. 

 

“So what do you want to do?”

Hoseok is sure this is a prank but even so, he might as well take advantage of it. 

“I’m hungry.” he says as he looks for snacks in his backpack. “Very, I want to eat something cheap and fast.” 

Yoongi chuckles. “That’s like the title of a cheesy 70’s porno but okay.”

 

15:00 hrs: Eat something Cheap And Fast 

 

“And then?” Yoongi asks as he notes down the first activity. Hoseok holds back a laugh. 

“Woah. Okay then,” he says daringly and the frown turns into a cheeky smile, Hoseok crosses his arms and tilts his chin up as if to say I know you’re fucking with me, let’s see who can play this game better. “I want to go to the Louvre.”
Yoongi nods as he scribbles some more. 

“Do you want to get on the hop-on-hop-off tour bus?” he questions and he looks so serious Hoseok might start believing he is. 

“Oh no. I want to walk. A lot. I want to destroy my legs. Actually I want to go to the Champs-Elysées for a late afternoon stroll.”

Yoongi’s eye twitches and he’s about to regret everything, from the moment of his birth to the moments leading up to this. That is until he looks up and sees a glint of happiness in Hoseok’s eyes. Okay, maybe sleeping can wait. 

“Nice.” he says and starts to pocket the small paper and the pen but Hoseok’s voice lets him know that he’s not done, not even close. 

“That’s just today.” he laughs sheepishly. “After that we can have dinner here or whatever but tomorrow I want to have breakfast at 6 a.m in Rue Cler and watch the sunrise. After that I want to go to Notre Dame to take a picture with the vitrals and–oh! let’s go shopping and we can have a baguette while we are at it, of course we have to go to the wax museum, and oh, right, didn’t namjoon make a reservation for dinner at the Eiffel tower? I want to have dinner there too, all the courses and have the most expensive wine.”

Yoongi looks at him blank. 

Hoseok still thinks it’s a joke. 

 

HOSEOK AND YOONGI’S TORTURE SCHEDULE DAY ONE

15:00 hrs: Eat something Cheap And Fast

16:00 hrs: hit the Louvre and act like snobby assholes

18:30 hrs: walk an unnecessary amount through the champs elises champes eliuses  chàmps  that place

21:00 get to the hotel and pass the fuck out away

HOSEOK AND YOONGI’S TORTURE SCHEDULE PART TWO: THE REVENGE

5:30 hrs: wake up at the ass crack of dawn

6:00 hrs: have breakfast in Rue Cler and see the sunset (overrated and cheesy)

8:00 hrs: hit Notre DAMN 

11:00 hrs: shopping. note: delusional.

16:00 hrs: wax museum

22:00 hrs: eiffel tower 

 

Hoseok still thinks is a joke when Yoongi doesn’t take his pants off and still thinks of it even when he’s grabbing the room keys. 




 

Hoseok starts to have second thoughts while on their meal but chooses against questioning Yoongi once the courtesy bread has been set on the table and their orders have been placed. 

His stomach rumbles loudly and Yoongi chuckles, not without taking a piece for himself first. 

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi starts and stuffs his mouth with a piece of spongy soft yet crunchy golden bread. “Holy shit this is so good?” he mumbles and little crumbs fall of his mouth. Hoseok scrunches up his nose. 

This trip is going to be far more excruciating than he thought. 

“I mean, we’re in Paris.” he says matter of factly before doing the same and once he does, Yoongi can see the absolute illumination in his eyes. “Holy fuck this is so good.” he moans and closes his eyes and Yoongi has to take a couple of seconds in order to not choke. 

“Why is that a thing? Paris. This city is peak marketing. Love this, love that, artsy pictures for instagram. It’s just a city, I’m not going to give in to the occidentals and their money making traps sold as romance.” he says and looks deeply into the bread he is about to insert into his mouth once again. 

Hoseok’s eye twitches. 

“Yeah, sappy idiots. Look at them,” he says with faked disdain and a creeping smile on his face, pointing vaguely to a table far from them where a man and a woman sit close to each other. Her lips are bright red and his shirt might be too expensive, they are laughing. 

“She’s probably laughing at a shitty joke she doesn’t even find funny.” Hoseok snickers. Yoongi huffs and more crumbles fall from his lips. “Yeah and  he’s probably wearing the only nice shirt he has and the rest are, I don’t know, Anime tees or whatever.”
Hoseok nods knowingly. “C’est la vie.”

 

Yoongi swallows and then clears his throat. “What about you, huh? Are you bitter?” he asks and it takes Hoseok by surprise. 

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi widens his eyes as to emphasize that this question is in fact Very Important.

“I said, what about you? I know we aren’t that close like the way you are with Jimin and Jungkook or me with Namjoon and Seokjin,” he pauses and takes a sip of water, the one they took over the Fiji bottles they were offered, the one that is probably from the tap. “but since we are stuck together for the next forty eight hours, if we are lucky , I kinda wanna know.”
Hoseok remains silent for a couple of seconds and Yoongi fears that maybe he’d overstepped a boundary. Maybe Hoseok doesn’t actually like him, maybe him being with Yoongi right now comes as an Herculian type of effort of him putting up with Yoongi’s sarcastic and grumpy personality, and that, poses as a rock in the shoe that is Yoongi’s brain. 

 

And it has always kind of been like that when he thinks of it.

 How Hoseok actually doesn’t talk to him when the seven hang out, their outings being mostly him talking to Namjoon and Seokjin –more recently with Jungkook and Jimin– but Hoseok had never been close, not even near. In a way that maybe Yoongi had been surrounded by barb wire and Hoseok wouldn’t dare to approach. 

Maybe it’s because of that that he had offered to make this stupid change of plans for him, deep down afraid that Hoseok would totally despise being alone with Yoongi. Even when they are with their friends, that is a thing that doesn’t show in Hoseok’s Top 100 Things He Wouldn’t Mind. 

Probably, he wants Hoseok to like him. Hell, not even that, he wants Hoseok to even talk to him because then, it wouldn’t feel as if Yoongi is so unbearable that not even Sunshine On Earth Jung Hoseok can stand him. 

 

Their plates arrive and they observe them in total silence. 

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I was joking, you don’t have to tell me your stuff.” Yoongi’s somber voice calls and his eyes are still fixed on the food –an overpriced sandwich with chips on the side that he could have bought at any seven eleven near the hotel– and Hoseok scratches the back of his neck. 

“Nah, it’s okay, you’re being super nice, I’m just a dick.” he tries to laugh off the awkwardness that has presented itself in the shape of an invisible third person sitting in their table, wandering in between them. 

“Well, I won’t make any questions about that and just assume you’re recurring to mitosis as a way of reproduction.”

Hoseok chuckles. 

“Mitosis is hot a fuck tho,” he says with a dead serious face. “the way you just fucking duplicate yourself with that prophase and anaphase shit?” he closes his eyes and his hand turns into a fist. “That’s hot if you ask me.”
Yoongi tries hard to keep himself from laughing. “You don’t even have to pay for dinner and laugh at bad jokes, that’s like, pure erotism right there.”

Of course Hoseok, being the Idiot with capital ‘I’, think’s it’s still a joke until Yoongi starts to google the fastest way from their restaurant to the Louvre and his face turns into that of pure horror. 

“It’s literally two kilometers away.” he shrieks as he reads the directions. Hoseok shrugs. “It’s not that much.”
It is . For Yoongi, that’s two kilometers of walking too much for his taste. 

“Wait, were you being serious back in the hotel? About doing all this bullshit?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“Hey, I know it may not look like it but sometimes I am not an asshole.” he states as he pockets his phone and looks at his own feet, a sort of a premature farewell. “I’m not fun and I know that, and it’s unlucky that of all the people in the world it was me you have to explore Paris with.”

Hoseok gulps guiltily. 

“No, it’s not unlucky.” he grabs Yoongi’s arm as a form of reassurance. “We can go back to the hotel and nap if you want.” Yoongi shakes his head and retrieves his arm. 

 

“No, you’re seeing this cheesy old town and we’re going to fool it.”





Two kilometers feel oddly short, it’s only noticeable in Yoongi’s legs once they get to sit down at some benches outside the museum. His calves burn ever so slightly and his chest heaves a bit too much, nothing torturous as he’d expected. Hoseok of course moves like a breeze, his long legs taking the equivalent of three Yoongi sized steps in those tight black jeans that he can’t believe Hoseok wore during their twelve hour flight. 

It’s funny how the day is not sunny and the clouds take up the majority of the sky, but Yoongi does not feel like it’s gloomy, even so, Hoseok’s cheekbones still reflect the weak sunlight that scapes in between them. 

“You don’t look half as tired as I thought you would.” Hoseok snorts as he pokes at Yoongi’s sides and the other man slaps gently at the hand. “If you look closely to my butt you’ll see it palpitate, this is the most cardio I’ve done since I was born.”
Hoseok sighs. “When we are back home you can come to the gym with us. Sure, Jimin and Jungkook will rip you to shreds but once you get used to it it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
Yoongi can’t help but to think how That Is Inherently Weird. Hoseok actually inviting him to do things with them. Hoseok actually thinking of spending time with Yoongi. He feels  chill down his spine. 

“Minus the dying in painful ways at the gym, it sound fun.” he says and he takes a look around. 

He’s unfamiliar, completely. The murmuring in the city is in another language, the building is of an architecture he’s only come to known by postcards and books. It’s almost as if he wasn’t there and at the same time, as if he’d never been in another place. It’s the joy of knowing new places, he’s kind of semi-thankful to have ditched his older plans. 

There’s a triangle that catches his eye, not quite a triangle but a pyramid with glass on it and various metal bars in between; he can’t help but to stare, how different it is from anything he’s seen in Seoul. 

 

People come and go and he likes to watch, all colors, all kinds, visitors, parisians. It’s funny, he wonders if there’s people looking over at them and wondering about them. Where do they come from, what are they doing there –they couldn’t pass off as parisians, not even if they tried– who are they, and what are they. 

There’s a snap and a harsh light and when he turns Hoseok’s face is hidden behind one of those disposable Kodak cameras that Taehyung hates so much. One, they are hideous, two, they take the worst possible photos and three, developing the film of those is super expensive, he had said after Hoseok bought it specifically for this trip. 

“I will sue you for stalking.” Yoongi threatens as he pulls his grey beanie further into his head. 

“Let’s do it, baby, I know the law.” Hoseok hisses back as he places the camera back into the pocket of his jacket. “Also, it seems like it’s going to rain so let’s get inside, yeah?”

Of course after they get in it starts pouring. Yoongi takes out the little notepad sheet and looks at his watch. It’s 16:03 p.m, and he prides himself in his ability of keeping a sort of clean time despite his lack of effort in walking and their shitty sense of orientation. He ponders about their following activity but decides against changing anything in the hopes that it stops raining in the following hour.

The meeting point is overflowed with people and he wants to die and then kill Hoseok. 

“It’s crowded.” Hoseok says sheepishly. “We’ll have to make line for a bit.” 

Yoongi blames it on movies. How the main characters just go inside and it’s completely empty and they have all the museum for themselves to perform intrinsic and successful art heists. Yoongi wouldn’t even get away with getting to the bathroom. 

 

They get into the line behind a family of americans, and by the little –very, almost nule– english Namjoon has taught Yoongi, he comes to understand that the kids are bored of waiting and the mother, very assertively, points out that they’ll wait even more. 

Yoongi turns to Hoseok and finds him immersed in appreciating the inside of the lobby, the ceiling made of glass –the same glass Yoongi had spotted when he’d seen the triangle from afar, but now over their heads. The rain falls violently on the glass and the collision makes a faint hum in the back of the human clatter. 

“I like rain.” Hoseok says without taking his eyes off the ceiling. Yoongi nods. “I like rain too, should we start a rain enthusiasts club where we only meet up to talk about how much we like rain and our favorite rains? Mine is last week’s downpour when I was coming back from work and my favorite notebook turned into a grey ball of disappointment.”

At that Hoseok laughs that hearty laugh that Yoongi has only heard of in foreign conversations, never with him and most certainly never because of him. He might like them, like his own little stand up audience.

“I didn’t expect you to be funny.” Hoseok confesses. “All I ever knew of you was that you hate wearing pants and you work too much.”
Yoongi hits his own chin as a sign of self appraisal. “Let’s keep it like that, I find it inconvenient when the general public finds out that I’m not only hardworking, handsome and a potential nudist, but that I’m also hilarious.”
Hoseok shakes his head but not a single trace of apprehension can be seen in his face.

“Modest, if they ever found out about your modesty it’s over for us back home in Korea.”
Yoongi shrugs. “Let’s think big. If I spoke french it would be over for them here too, all the ladies would go crazy for me.”
Hoseok’s smile twitches and something in his eyes fade.

“Ladies, yeah.” he chuckles. “Ah, ladies.”
Yoongi can clearly see the discomfort in his eyes but chooses not to mention it in case Hoseok goes into shell shock as he’d done in the restaurant; instead he takes out his wallet. 

“Since we’re here,” he takes out the small notepad sheet piece. “Will you do me the honors?” A pink pen with the hotel name engraved on the side is handed to Hoseok.

“Stealing pens from the hotel? Also a bad boy, I see. What aren’t you, Min Yoongi?”
Hoseok takes the pen and the paper and scratches their first two tasks.

 

15:00 hrs: Eat something Cheap And Fast

16:00 hrs: hit the Louvre and act like snobby assholes

 

“Rich, straight and tall. My only weaknesses.” 

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up so high in his forehead they might as well had left it. 

“You’re not rich? Then why do you work so much for?” he asks and ignores the beat his heart decided to skip. 

Yoongi shrugs. “To make tall, straight and rich idols even richer, I guess. Music producing isn’t as fun and redituable as you may think. If I do something good, I get paid. The thing is, sometimes what’s good isn’t paid or in the worst case, I don’t always make good.” he looks around and stares at the long line that has formed behind them and the one in front of them that has shortened significantly. “We’re almost there.”

Hoseok looks at his phone that had started vibrating a couple of seconds ago, and where he’s standing, Yoongi can see Jimin’s face in the screen. 

“Hello?” Hoseok asks, his gaze still fixed on Yoongi. “Oh yeah we’re at the Louvre, waiting in line. Yes, we .” he says and his eyes roll in annoyance. Jimin must say something because it has Hoseok turning his back towards Yoongi. “No, it’s okay. Yeah? Okay, I- Okay. Don’t be weird about it, jesus christ.” And Yoongi shouldn’t eavesdrop but he does anyway. “Yeah I’ll keep it in mind. It’s just two days, right? Okay, yeah. Tell Jungkook to bring his toothbrush, I feel like he will forget. Yeah, okay, see you soon, I’ll text you later.”

 

When the line goes dead, Hoseok puts his phone back into his pocket and faces Yoongi. 

“So, they will be here on saturday morning.” Hoseok says, more serious than before, his big smile turned into a smaller one at that. “Jimin says he’ll make us go to all these places again and pretend we haven’t seen them or he will cut our balls with kiddie scissors.”

Yoongi snorts. “Ah, Jiminie, always being a little potential murder. I love him to bits.”
Hoseok smacks him gently in the arm and his smile builds up again. “Little? he’s like two centimeters shorter than you.”

Yoongi squares up, puffs his chests and gets on his tiptoes to make himself look bigger and taller and he frowns. “What do you mean I’m literally three meters tall.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Yeah it’s okay little guy, keep up the good work and maybe you’ll grow some more after your thirties.”
Yoongi falls back into his slouching position. 

“I am small but I will end you.”

Hoseok pats his head. 

“I bet you could.”

When they are finally inside the actual museum –which takes a respectful forty six minutes of waiting– the find themselves blown away not only by the mass of people but also by the paintings hung on the walls. Of course, the first one they want to see is the Mona Lisa , and that entails being crushed in the middle of dozens of tourists, desperate to take a picture and Hoseok is no exception. 

His little Kodak camera is placed on his face, one eye shut hoping for the other to focus on the painting. While he’s at a that, Yoongi is squinting as hard as possible, trying his best to see it with his own two eyes –to understand this, it’s important to note that Min Yoongi is Blind as shit but refuses to wear his glasses. 

“I thought it was bigger.” Hoseok whispers, camera still in face, leaning over to Yoongi and the other chuckles. 

“That’s what she said.”

 

So to say that Hoseok admiring paintings is a religious experience is an understatement. Yoongi can’t quite describe it but it’s definitely something. Like a sort of synesthesia, Yoongi can tell that when Hoseok looks at the paintings, he just doesn’t look at them, he feels them. It’s like he can feel the colors in his mouth like the flavors of food, twisting his lips in strange ways as to understand the palettes better. Hoseok taps his foot against the floor as if the paintings were rhythm and the whole museum was its own particular orchestra. And Yoongi is sure that if most of the paintings weren’t invaluable and sheltered over various DO NOT CROSS lines, Hoseok would reach out and touch. Hoseok would feel in his fingertips the texture of the dried oil paint, the streaks and brushstrokes, the hardness and softness of the canvas.

It’s almost like in itself, Yoongi likes Hoseok appreciating the paintings more than he likes the paintings in on themselves. 

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this with my own two eyes.” Hoseok mutters when he’s caught Yoongi Staring. “I’ve seen them on movies and on books but I thought I would die without ever being able to look at them live and in technicolor, you know?”
Yoongi nods and something pulls in his throat painfully. 

“I’m glad you got to see them.” He says. “I’m sorry it had to be with me.”
Hoseok huffs annoyed. “It’s okay, I’m having a lot of fun actually. I guess I was underestimating you.” He gives a last look at a painting with carefully crafted angels and gods in clouds stained in pastel colors. “I like you.”
Yoongi shrugs and looks the other way. “Yeah, I don’t hate you either.”


Hoseok looks at the myriad of images in the wall one last time. 

“I love art but most of all, I love beauty. I like things that you can feel. Like music and pictures and paintings.”

Yoongi smiles. “And dancing.”
Hoseok turns to him. “I kinda like dancing. It’s okay. I guess dancing is cool. I like dancing a normal amount. Dancing is not like my entire life.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yeah dancing is cool or whatever, J-Hope.”

Hoseok shimmies his body in excitement. “I can’t wait to show this pics to the guys at the studio! Maybe I can buy some prints and put them in the lobby!” He eyes at the gift shop just a few rooms down, and Yoongi thinks about it too. Maybe he can get the print of the picture with the angels and the gods for his studio. It’s very pretty and it would remind him of this trip which, against all odds, is proving to be at least 27% more fun than he’d expected. 

“You missing the studio?” Yoongi asks and Hoseok gives him a melancholic smile. “Would I be a workaholic if I said I do? I miss dancing even if it’s been like a day. It’s like the energy built up inside me has to get out in some way. I’m one of those crazy people that can dance without music. I could dance right now.” He says and his fists are closed to the side of his face and his hips are swaying from side to side. “I would, but Jimin wants to see this place and if I get banned he will literally destroy me, Thanos style.”

Yoongi smiles without even meaning to and his chest grows heavier. 

“It’s okay, we can dance later.”

There’s a scream when the google maps indicates that another two kilometer walk awaits them.

They are still inside the museum, the rain has not stopped at all and none of them thought better of bringing umbrellas, the watch signaling that 18:00 is just around the corner and so is their next destination. 

“What do we do, do we go tomorrow?” Hoseok asks Yoongi as the later looks at the piece of paper to which they are practically slaves. 

 

18:30 hrs: walk an unnecessary amount through the champs elises champes eliuses  chàmps  that place


He puts it back into the pocket of his jacket and zips it all the way to his chin, his eyes looking defiantly at the thunder and showers waiting for them.

“We’ll give it a run, I will not walk two extra kilometers tomorrow. Over my dead and cold fucking body.”



Now, there are lot of things that startle Hoseok. 

The cold that follows the first sprint into the rain, how the icy water kisses his skin like an old lover, aware of how the feeling it’s supposed to be–cold and knowing–, the freeze crawling into his flesh and into the deepest of his bones making a chill run all the way from his spine to his soul. 

Yoongi’s willingness to fulfill his request even if it was made under the pretense of joking, completely unexpected to be follow through even under the weather conditions that surround them like a safety blanket. 

 

However, what thrills him the most, what brings utter shock into his system and what makes him trip over his own feet after the first steps is the grasp of Yoongi’s hand on to his. 

He can’t hear anything, not the honking cars not the murmur of the city not his phone vibrating like crazy for the past couple of minutes. Just the rain and Yoongi’s screams as they get lost in the mist. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” the other mutters in between teeth and a laugh creeps from beneath. “It’s so cold.” 

But Hoseok can’t bring himself to answer, not when the cold is biting his blood and when his hand is on Yoongi’s and they’re running under the rain in the heart of Paris.

 

They get tired of running after a while, but the rain keeps falling and Yoongi feels weird. A sort of weird he’d only associated with primal fear, blood pumping and heart racing, his knees shaking and would it be weird to say that he feels alive? 

“It’s like everything hurts” he says to Hoseok once their hands unbond and they stop to get some air. “But in a good way?”
Hoseok smiles.

“In a good way.”

The walk is beautiful even under the humid fog and the falling sky. The trees and small alleys, the people under umbrellas. In the distance –if Yoongi squints hard enough– the Arc De Triomphe stares back at them, a stone giant. You are here and you are alive. Yoongi thinks.

Of course the don’t pay attention to the scenery after a while, since giving it a run in the downpour might be a rather ineffective method of sightseeing.

It’s Hoseok the one who calls it a day. 

“Let’s go or I’ll freeze to death and then I will kill you.”
Yoongi drops his shoulders and a huge weight is lifted of his back. 

“It’s about time.” he jokes and pulls out his phone, shielding it from the water. “Let’s uber.”

 

The uber driver is hesitant to let them inside the car, soaking wet, panting and non french speaking, but with some “please” and “we’ll give more money”’s he complies and lets them both inside the small chevrolet for a rather quick ride. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” Hoseok laughs and slaps Yoongi’s back playfully. “Oh my god, please remind me to never mess with you.”
Yoongi grins mischievously. “I thought you would have known that by now.” his hand pats Hoseok’s thigh. “I had fun.” he admits. “Not being pant-less while watching tv on the hotel level, but it was cool.” he lies, completely avoiding the fact that this had been the most fun he’d had in what felt  a lifetime. 

 “Thank you. You didn’t have to do it.” Hoseok says, his eyes guiltily focusing on Yoongi’s hand on his thigh. “I had fun too.”

Yoongi nods.

“But I’m still having my own kind of fun when we get to the room. My pants will be removed as soon as possible.”

Hoseok snorts. 

“That’s what she said.”

 

They get to the hotel in little to no time, the driver muttering what seemed rather angry suggestions once Yoongi hands him the extra money and apologizes for the damp seats. 

Inside, they try to walk as least noticeable as possible and they make it to the elevator invictus, water still falling from their hair and clothes.

“Dibs on the bathroom.” Yoongi calls once they reach their floor. “I need hot water asap or you’ll have to go to the Eiffel Tower with a frozen corpse tomorrow.”
Hoseok shrugs. “I don’t see a big difference.”
Yoongi smacks him playfully on the shoulder. “Shut up, will you?” he reprimands as he fishes keys from his pocket and in the way he pulls out the paper and a pen. 

“While I open, cross the last two items.”

 

18:30 hrs: walk an unnecessary amount through the champs elises champes eliuses  chàmps that place

21:00 get to the hotel and pass the fuck out away

 

“Done.” Hoseok singsongs once they make it inside the room and before he can take his eyes off the paper, Yoongi is already inside the bathroom and the shower starts running. 

“Cool, can you order food? I’m starving.” Yoongi’s muffled voice calls from inside the shower. “I want a burger with fries and a bottle of water.”

Hoseok nods. “Sure.” he reassures and takes his phone out of his pockets. 

 

Jiminnie <3(31) missed calls

Jiminnie <3: wHERE ARE YOU

Jiminnie <3: THERE’S A STORM IN PARIS ARE YOU GUYS UNDER A ROOF

Jiminnie <3: omg did Yoongi hyung killed you because you made him walk on the rain

Jiminnie <3: [IMAGE] this is me crying because i miss u 

 

He laughs at the text but doesn’t answer back and on the other side of the world Jimin plots his murder. 

His hands leave the phone on the bedside table as he looks around for a towel to at least dry his hair. When he doesn’t, he figures that he has to go inside the bathroom and take one, so he’ll have to wait. And then it hits him that Yoongi is showering. In the same room as him, naked with no clothes and showering. It’s an intrusive thought, and he chooses against it. 

“Seok.” Yoongi calls from the bathroom. “I’m done, you can go now.” he says once he’s out of the door only in his boxers and a loose hoodie. “The water is still hot, so might as well get in right now.”

He abandons his thought and makes his way to the bathroom, closes the door behind him and disposes of his wet clothes and makes the mental note to hang them on the balcony later so they dry. 

His shower is uneventful besides the awkward fidgeting that comes with unknown bathrooms whenever he travels, but the water is hot and relaxing, the shampoo and conditioners provided smell good and overall he would rate this shower as a ten out of ten. 

When he’s done, he wraps a towel around his hips and takes the hotel’s blow dryer and starts working the warm air on his scalp. Again, uneventful, his hair dries eventually. 

He walk out of the bathroom and Yoongi chokes on his spit. 

 

Yoongi knows Hoseok is a dancer. He has this file saved on his brain with the name JUNG HOSEOK that until today was practically empty, but one thing that has always been particular about him and a prime Hoseok fact is that he’s a dancer. 

But it’s still feels as the moon landing level of discovery when he sees that Hoseok is ripped. Not like Jungkook type of ripped where he’s big and muscle-y and takes pictures on instagram and captions them as “ NO PAIN NO GAIN. GRINDING TILL I DIE ” and the emojis of laughing faces and fire. No, Hoseok is a different type of ripped. 

Maybe they shouldn’t have left the Louvre since Hoseok’s body belonged there, a marble statue. It’s not grotesque nor conventional as the dudes Yoongi hates so much, but it’s fine and angled. Every dent and every line in Hoseok’s body is mindblowing, the way that his legs and his core have been sculpted by god himself.

Drool falls on his lap.

 

“What do you want to eat.” Yoongi asks but in execution it comes out more a mumble.

Hoseok shrugs as he looks for something in his bag. “I dunno. Maybe pizza. Isn’t it here where the pizza is  mad good?”

Yoongi huffs and turns his gaze to the side in order to hide the blush that has ravished his skin. “That’s Italy, dumbass.”
Hoseok looks up at him. “Oh,” he smiles. “And what’s good here?”
Yoongi coughs. “Ratatouille.” Hoseok nods. “You almost got me there. I know that’s a movie with the cooking rat.”

Yoongi facepalms.

 

They end up eating pizza. Which is okay taking in account that their last meal had been six hours ago and that their fitbits had registered 7.9 km of walking. When it arrives, the poor delivery boy is disturbed at Hoseok’s feral noises as he takes the first bite –ten seconds after the doorbell rings– and the ease in which Yoongi hands him the money and joins the gruesome feast. 

“I think I just came.” Yoongi moans as he licks the cheese of his lips. “Oh my god I’m so hard.”

Hoseok laughs, little drops of grease staining his chin. “Scientist say that the chances of getting an orgasm while eating pizza after walking seven kilometers are higher than when engaging in actual intercourse.” he takes a napkin from the box and wipes his mouth. 

Yoongi nods violently. “If science says so.” 

Pizza still in hand, he reaches for his phone and his earbuds. 

“You’re gonna watch a movie?” Hoseok asks as Yoongi plugs them into the device.

“Yeah, maybe catch up on my dramas. Why? You want to watch something?”

Hoseok looks to the side guiltily. 

“Nah, if you wanna watch something on your own I get it, you’ve done enough for today.”

Yoongi frowns, mouth agape –still full with half chewed pizza.

“Enough?” he asks offended. “Fuck that, we’re watching a movie.” he adds albeit too forceful. “You into horror?”
Hoseok’s eyes almost fall from their sockets. 

“Do you want to kill me?” he reprimands. “I have enough horrors going on in my life.”
It’s too late when he says that because Yoongi is already on the thriller section in Netflix. “You pick: serial murders, disappearances or ghosts.”
He might as well have asked Hoseok if he’d rather have his guts eaten by a cow or by a bear. He doesn’t answer. 

“Serial killers it is.” Yoongi shrugs after a few seconds and hitting the play button. 

 

If it were to be seen from afar, it would seem to the foolish eye that Hoseok and Yoongi had been lifelong bestfriends. They are shoulder to shoulder under a thick blanket in the same bed. Hoseok’s face contorting in fear with every sudden move and gory detail, and Yoongi laughing big laughs whenever the other grasps his arm a bit too tight. No one would have guessed that until that point they were in the line in between acquaintances and friends; not even them. 

To Yoongi it feels as if they’ve known each other for forever. Been in each other’s space before so much that now it’s not separate but a joined affair. In a way that spending more time with Hoseok today somehow makes up for the years in which they passed by each other without sparing a glance, pretending not to see him whenever they found themselves in the streets, not caring about the others presence. 

Now, it feel so different and that is threatening. 

Yoongi fears that maybe this is all there will be. When they fly back to Korea they won’t talk to each other on the plane and they won’t hang out or approach if the others are on site. 

But there, in the dark, only illuminated by the tiny screen of his phone, laying on a all too small bed while breathing the same air once Napoleon did; it feels like they are not strangers. Like they’ve been friends for the longest time, like Hoseok and him have movie night every other day and they go on walks and they eat pizza; like it’s the rule and not the exception. 

It feels so natural that Yoongi will be devastated once they go back to normal. He wants to tell Hoseok this, look him in the eye and tell him I’ve never had an easy time getting used to people and having fun, but you make it seem the simplest thing in the world and I don’t want this to be over. He wants Hoseok to stay in his life that didn’t quite feel as one until today as they ran under the rain and the parisian sky. 

He wants to be selfish and tell the boys to take more days to come. 

But he doesn’t.

 


 

Waking up has never been easy. For Yoongi, waking up poses as the number one thing in the list of things Yoongi really hates with his entire existence . When his alarm goes off –that marimba tune of the default iPhone settings that is number five on the list– and he cracks an eye open, it takes him a few seconds to take in the pain. His legs are burning. Not the mild tea candle that had been yesterday when he sat down outside the museum, but instead, a forest fire, his calves and his thighs palpitating, reminding him that walking so much after carrying a life of sitting down for hours on end, six days a week, might not have been the sharpest idea. 

It hurts beyond comprehension and it bugs him the fact that it’s still dark outside and his phone won’t let him press the snooze button.

He tries to reach out, unlock it, and hit it, when he realizes that his arm is stuck. Not in between the bed and the wall but in between Hoseok’s arm and Hoseok’s chest. 

Yoongi tries to look around, but his neck is throbbing too and he realizes that they fell asleep while watching the movie –which by the way was not impressing in anyway and relied too much on jumpscares and gore so that’s three yoongi stars out of ten yoongi stars. 

Hoseok’s legs and his had found their ways in the dark, intertwined, and Hoseok’s sleep involved having Yoongi close to him. 

It’s a bit intimate but he can’t seem to mind. Not even in the slightest when he’s met with Hoseok’s closed eyes, his nose brushing against Yoongi’s shoulder, and his mouth parted, breathing so peacefully that Yoongi feels the sudden urge to wrap him in his arms and let him sleep a little bit more. 

The thought comes crawling back again into his head a demon in the dark. 

He wants to stay this way forever. Because it feels so natural this might as well be the millionth time in which he’s woken up to Hoseok by his side, peaceful and kind. 

Maybe I just really like being his friend, he thinks, maybe Hoseok is that kind of people that you really like spending time with. 

Maybe it’s not me.

 

“Rise and shine, dumbass.” Yoongi says as he unlatches his body from Hoseok’s and the other grunts in response. “You wanted to see the sunset, remember?”
Hoseok tosses to the side and shields his head with a pillow. 

“I thought it was a joke, I wasn’t being serious.” he cries and Yoongi stands up, takes the two steps needed and grabs his backpack. 

“You weren’t but I’m already awake so we’re going or I will literally eat you for breakfast.”

Hoseok laughs, face still in pillow. 

“I would like to see you try.”

Yoongi kicks him playfully on the butt. “I’m going to change and brush my teeth. If you’re not ready by then I will end you.”


He doesn’t know if the threats work but Hoseok is dressed by the time he’s out of the bathroom.

“Why do you go through with this.” Hoseok mumbles sitting on the bed, eyes puffy and almost closed but dressed already in tight jeans and a bright yellow hoodie. “You didn’t even want to do this.”

Yoongi shrugs as he gives himself a last look in the mirror. 

“Yeah I didn’t but I want to brag to the guys how good of a friend I am and have a witness to prove that I can wake up before noon by sheer willpower.”

Hoseok nods. 

“Yeah, seems razonable.” his limbs stretch and his mouth goes wide as he yawns his sleepiness awake.



“If you say Ooh Lala one more time I will throw myself under the next car.”

Hoseok looks at him terrified in the eyes, but his mouth is fighting back a smile. 

“okay.” he mutters apologetic. “You’re just not getting the Parisian vibe. I, on the contrary, might have been secretly french my entire life.”
Yoongi shoots him a death glare –with a hidden smile underneath– and turns his gaze back on the road. They’ve been walking for half an hour now, their fast past pace making their walk uneventful but filled with witty remarks and an overuse of Ooh Lala’s .
“It’s right around here.” Yoongi points. “Just in time, it’s almost six.”
Hoseok smiles and catches up to Yoongi who’s ahead by a couple of steps. 

“Hey, hyung.” he says once he eyes the street. “thanks.”
Yoongi shakes his head. “Yeah, whatever.”
The sign on the corner that read Rue Cler makes Yoongi’s lungs drop significantly as a big breath escapes from his mouth in relief.

“Let’s pick the first coffee shop we see, yeah?” he tells Hoseok and the other points to a particular one. It’s a small place with tables outside and a red sheet hovering over them. In front, there’s a cheese store painted in crimson as well, golden letters on the front spell La Fromagerie and the caffe they are eating mirrors them with the legend Ulysse .

“It says crepes there. I’m pretty sure they sell crepes.” Hoseok says as his eyes stare at Yoongi. “I love crepes.”
Yoongi huffs. “It looks good.” he answers and walks toward the entrance. Inside, a tall man greets them and ask them a question he can’t understand but says yes to anyway. 

They get the outdoor table and drop on to the chairs. 

“God, I wish Namjoon was here to translate because I feel so lost.” Yoongi says and Hoseok’s face twist. 

“But you’re doing a great job,a-and we are having a great time.” he reassures Yoongi and the other feels his face burn, shielding it with the menu under the pretense of choosing his meal. “I’ll guess I’ll have whatever you’re having.” he replies. Hoseok frowns.

 “No, I’ll have what you’re having.” he answers and Yoongi sets the menu down. 

“You said you wanted crepes.” he reprimands, Hoseok raises his shoulders defensively. “You’re the one who knows the most english out of the two!” 

Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Yeah but I don’t know french so–”
The waiter comes to them, tiny notepad in hand and smile on his face. 

“You guys ready to order?” he asks in english. They exchange looks sort of like in a mexican standoff. Yoongi looks at Hoseok, Hoseok looks at Yoongi, and then they look at the waiter, confusion written all over their faces in bright red letters.

Hoseok orders the first thing his eye catches from the menu out of pure terror. 

“I’ll have the crepe du fromage.” he says politely. “Same for me please.” Yoongi echoes. 

The waiter nods. 

“Any drinks?”

Yoongi sighs. 

“Water, please.” 

Hoseok makes a peace sign with his hand. “Two, please.”
The waiter writes it down and nods, then, he heads out. 

 

Once he’s gone they erupt into laughter. 

“Yo, you were scared shitless!” Hoseok cackles and Yoongi presses his palm against his forehead. “What was the hand thing? That’s was a cheap trick.” he giggles. 

Hoseok shakes his head. “Why didn’t we have this problem when we ate yesterday?” he ponders in between chuckles. Yoongi’s smile decreases slightly. “We were too busy being awkward with each other that we didn’t have time to bicker so we actually looked at the menu.” His voice falls quiet and so does Hoseok’s laughter. 

“Yeah.” he says and suddenly the question hangs in between them, invisible yet present. “We didn’t hang out that much back home.”
Yoongi bites his lips as he tries to come up with an answer. 

“I guess I was scared of you.” he tells Hoseok. “The guys are always talking about how fun you are and how energetic you are.” he explains. “I’ve always believed I have a small aura and I don’t like being with a lot of people. I guess we’re kind of opposites such as that, I was afraid you’d find me boring.”
Hoseok pats his shoulder and scratches the back of his own neck. 

“I’ve always had an eye out for you, Yoongi.” he says somberly and the words are heavy on Yoongi’s ears. “I’ve looked the way you are with the guys. You are such a good friend to them. When they need you, you are there. You’ve been a friend to me too. Even if we didn’t speak that much I’ve always had you in my thoughts. You are not boring.” he states a bit too serious on the matter. “I’m just an asshole.”
Yoongi blinks repeatedly and looks back at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”

Hoseok clenches his jaw. 

“No reason.” he sputters. “I should actually talk to you instead of just seeing you from afar, that’s all.”

 

In the distance, the sun emerges and with it, the clouds tinted in oranges and pinks, the light hits the highest point of Hoseok’s face, Yoongi swears that the man has glitter on his face because he shines brighter than a disco ball. 

He’d said it was cheesy and dumb, but in this city, in this light; the most beautiful scenery, the angels and gods in the museum look pale to the earth shattering beauty he’s met with. The way the sun bathes them as the sons of a higher god, the fading cold turning into a warm embrace of the beginning of a new day, Hoseok’s skin glowing, his heart racing, the sky greeting them. 

Somewhere along that, he finds out that his plan had gone horribly wrong and that it had been the city fooling them this whole time. 

Or maybe it was Hoseok.


 

After the breakfast everything hurts. Not physically –well, kinda, their walks today are far longer and the accumulated strain from yesterday makes Yoongi take long breaks in between.– but in his chest as a newly acquired wound which he doesn’t have the proper tools and training to handle, afraid that maybe it will kill him in any minute. In a way it’s two voices that live in Yoongi’s head, one enjoying the ride, the city, Hoseok’s presence and that hearty laugh he hates. That breakfast is ice cream and dinner is pizza kind of laugh that he strings around Yoongi in the shape of a gymnast and a ribbon, surrounding and light, colorful, energetic. He could die right there under the blue sky and the clouds that resemble cats and hamsters and that turtle Hoseok had as a kid which he liked but lost in his backyard. Yoongi is there and yet he’s not.

 The other voice reminds him that it’s temporary. That Hoseok and him will go back to the routine of being a grey man in the background to the other, that once the guys join them it’s going to be the way it’s always been. 

Don’t get it wrong, Yoongi liked the way things used to be. If you’d ask him twenty four hours ago he would have said yes and that the normal way of things is the only way it should be. But walking down the crowded streets and the old buildings, jazzy trumpets and flower carts, it’s in a way as if normal had never existed and there had only been him and Hoseok, Hoseok and him only. 

He wants to be selfish and ask Hoseok to stay around, but he believes that’s unfair. 

Having Hoseok would be the human equivalent to have a fish in a small bowl. How could Hoseok be happy with Yoongi? Yoongi who doesn’t like to dance, Yoongi who’s terrified of loud noises and eyes being on him, Yoongi who’s just Yoongi and not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook or anyone else. 

No, he knows that what happens in Paris when they were alone, stays right there in the shape of a forgotten memory, hidden in the deepest part of the drawer.

But still, he can’t get enough of it. 

 

“We’re finally here.” Hoseok’s squeals grabbing at Yoongi’s shoulder, the magnificent cathedral looking back at them, the tiniest of insignificant ants. “Aren’t you excited?”

Yoongi shrugs, lips tightly shut. 

“wooho.” he says in that monotone voice.

Hoseok frowns. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks and Yoongi struggles out of his hold and starts walking. “Nothing. Let’s get this over with.”

 

In Yoongi’s architecture books –which are many since he’s an architecture enthusiast, to avoid the word nerd– he’d read that the vitral in the shape of a circle is a symbol for God’s all knowing, all seeing judging eye. The colored stained glass shines with the sunlight in blue and purple hues, it bathes their bodies and Yoongi wonders if God can see them. 

It’s breathtaking to say the least, the floors, the ceilings and the intricate details inside the cathedral, the dim lighting provided by the candles, the sinners walking in and out hoping salvation awaits them. 

He looks at Hoseok –because he’s been doing it all the damn trip, he’s consistent– and the way his eyes focus on the immense beauty that surrounds them.

It’s as if they’re back at the museum and Hoseok can feel every single thing, the colors, the light, the cold in the back of their neck, God’s stare on them. 

 

“Do you believe in God?” Hoseok whispers and Yoongi hears him. “I don’t think I do, but when I see places like this I ask myself if we, as humans that know how meaningless we are, how could we build things such as this.” he answers to himself. Yoongi nods. 

“It was aliens probably.” he jokes and Hoseok looks at him, trying to suppress a smile. 

“I am serious, hyung!” he reprimands without a single trace of malice and his eyes meet the vitral once more, his hand tingles and Yoongi feels it brush next to his. “We are so funny. Us, people. We are so afraid of the future that we spend the present worrying about it and we don’t even enjoy it and hundreds of year later we are forgotten.” 

Yoongi nears his hand to Hoseok and waits, tries his best to calm the blush that’s already burning his ears. 

“We will forget this place one day. You will forget me and I will forget you.” Hoseok proceeds ominously and the blue light falls on his face as a veil, Yoongi is still silent, his hand hesitant and his heart aching. 

“Seok.” Yoongi says and his fingers slowly intertwine with Hoseok’s, hopes his tremble is not visible and that the sweating palms cease eventually. “Can you promise me something?”
Hoseok takes the hold and squeezes Yoongi’s hand.

“Yes?”

Yoongi squeezes back making the hold stronger. It feels too intimate. They are whispering, hands joined, God looking down on them, memories being packaged into a tiny box that they’ll keep hidden but close to the heart. 

“Don’t forget me.”
They stay silent and an organ sounds in the distance two small shadows against the divinity.

 

There’s a certain melancholy hovering after they leave Notre Dam, it’s in the air, with every breath they take their lungs grow heavier, it’s in the ground, every step cherished deeply, one feet after the other. Hoseok and Yoongi held hands under the vitral and held hands after leaving the cathedral, but it’s Hoseok the first one to retrieve the contact. 

It hurts Yoongi knowing it’s their last day together before they go back to normal. He’s not bothered to ask Hoseok if they should change the normal but he fears the answer a bit too much to even dare putting it on the table. In a way in which the answer is a very fragile crystal vase and with any wrong word or any misunderstanding, the table will shake and the vase will fall and shatter in a million pieces and so will his pride. 

He can’t believe he let himself crawl into the trap and he blames the city for it, not Hoseok nor his smile nor his laugh nor the way that Yoongi has always been so self aware of how Hoseok perceived him, why he never came around and why any of this would change that. 

 

“I,” Hoseok says after a few hundred meters, “don’t know where we are going.” 

Yoongi doesn’t either. 

“There’s a couple of shops near the museum, we’re close.” he answers. “I wanna see some shoes.”

Hoseok smiles, a bit tense and forced, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Yes! We should totally see some shoes.” he replies. “And some sunglasses too! I’ve been saving up for a while so maybe I can buy something.”

They try to ignore the melancholy that’s still very dense and very much present in the air –a bit toned down though, Yoongi would describe it as the strong smell of coffee in a gloomy morning, present and somewhat palpable to the touch. 

Their step grows faster and it doesn’t take them much to get there, with Hoseok’s large strides and Yoongi’s quick but short motions follow him closely. 

A store greets them once they reach the adjacent streets to the museum, like the rest, is a small establishment –Yoongi doesn’t consider himself claustrophobic, but he might once he enters the store– and they snoop around the various shelves. It’s a thrift shop with big windows showcasing old dresses with floral patterns and tweed jackets. 

Inside, his eyes go straight to the coats. Fairly nice and vintage-y, some leather jackets with wool on the neck, probably good for winter nights back home. 

“Hyung, check this out.” Hoseok calls from behind. When Yoongi turns, Hoseok has this old glasses placed neatly on the bridge of his nose. They are transparent and big, it reminded him of the ones his grandma wore. “What do you think, huh?”
Yoongi smiles.
“They look good.” he answers and Hoseok grins. “Do you think I can get away with wearing this back home? Oh, and what about these?” he says and pull another pair, black circular lenses with a metallic bridge in between. 

“You look like you just got out of the matrix.”

Hoseok laughs that rolling skating and disco music laugh that Yoongi hates and his chest feels hard as concrete again.

“What about me tho.” He tries to play off the growing sadness in him, grabs a pair and pouts while lifting his eyebrows. “Is this ooh lala or oof take them off.
Hoseok chuckles.

“Ooh lala.”

Yoongi smiles and looks at himself in the small mirror next to the glasses portion of the store. It’s a pair of women’s cat eye shades with fine marble on the sides.

“I look like I just murdered my husband.” he says flatly and takes them off. 

“And fanned yourself with 100,000 won bills while you most definitely didn’t cry at the funeral.”

He doesn’t buy them, of course, but Hoseok does buy the last ones he tried and they handed them to him in a paper bag with a shoe stamped on the side, underneath it read vivre, aimer et se souvenir .

Of course, none of them understand what it says. 

They walk out and get to the next store that catches their eye and so on. It goes quite boringly, them looking for gifts and little fashions statements to take home with them, Yoongi buys a sweater, Hoseok buys some socks. 

It starts as a joke –like most of their trip– when they get inside a jewelry store. 

“It’s all handmade, silver and diamonds.” The woman behind the counter says when both of them stay still staring at the myriad of accessories. Oddly enough, they understand the whole sentence, mostly thanks to listening to a lot of american rappers bragging about their belongings in songs Yoongi liked in his teens and songs Hoseok teaches in his Hip Hop workshop on saturdays. 

His eye is instantly drawn to a necklace, a very thin and simple silver chain with a tiny diamond of 0.1 carats, next to it a price tag that makes his heart shatter. 

“Welp, this has been fun but I feel poor, let’s go.” He says and Hoseok nods. “Yep, I feel like I’ve been thoroughly insulted. 

They laugh as they leave the store but he does come back and buys the necklace. 


 

“How we feeling about this?” Hoseok says as he poses out of the changing room, Yoongi scratches his chin. “Boujee. Parisian. Rich. I like it.” he says, Hoseok looks back at the mirror. He fixes the tiny red scarf around his neck that fits like a choker and adjust the dress pants so they rest at his waist, long black tweed jacket hangs a little loose. 

“Yeah I see this.” he admits. “You should pick an outfit too, we’re having fancy dinner tonight.”

Yoongi nods.

“In about,” he looks at his watch, green digits signaling that it’s already 3 p.m. “six hours. Actually, we kinda need to be quick if we want to make it to the wax museum at four.”
Hoseok scrunches his nose. 

“I actually don’t want to go to the wax museum, I am lowkey terrified of wax people. What if they melt and I see wax blood and wax organs? I can’t deal with that kind of trauma.” He explains and gives himself a last look. “Hey, what about this: we eat something, we shop some more, we head back to rest and we go to dinner at nine?” he offers. “We do have a reservation, right?” Yoongi nods. “Namjoon made one three months ago for the seven of us but I guess it’s gonna be just you and me.”

Hoseok bites his lip and nods as well. “Oh yeah, well. It sounds like a plan.” 

He goes back inside the changing room and Yoongi snoops around the store. 

It’s a slightly larger outlet compared to the ones they’ve been to in the entire day. Seems to be a bit more of a common people kind of place than touristy, it’s all brand clothing that’s on sale due to being out of season or simply not sold. Hoseok had said that it was a hidden gem, they get cool designer stuff without selling their kidneys. 

Yoongi has never been quite into buying clothes, but he figures dinner at the Eiffel Tower is kind of a big deal so of course he goes into the formal section and searches for something stylish and fancy that does not involve him going into bankruptcy. 

 

He is in the hunt for a pair of pants when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

 

“Yoongi.” Namjoon calls from the other side of the line. “We’re at the airport, our flight is leaving in an hour.” he explains. “I miss you, brother. Are you having fun without us?”

Yoongi looks in the direction of the dressing rooms, no Hoseok on sight. 

“Actually, I kind of am.” He admits. 

“Yeah, I bet. Did you even get to chapter six of Strong Girl Bong-Soon or did you spend this two days in a food induced coma?”
Yoongi stutters and his breath hitches. 

“I–I, we, uh, we actually have been sightseeing.”

There’s sepulchral silence.

“That’s actually super cool, dude! Thank god you have Hoseok to drag you around, I was actually worried you were gonna confide yourself in the hotel and miss out on the beauty of the city.”

He doesn’t know why but that upsets him a lot. Why did everyone have this stupid image of Yoongi? Who the fuck ever said that Yoongi can’t go to museums, can’t take clichè pictures and can’t find good spots to eat? Yoongi bites his lips to stop himself from saying anything that he might regret later. 

“Yes. Actually I planned the whole thing. We’re shopping right now and we’re having dinner at the Eiffel Tower.”

Namjoon gasps. “You did that? That’s crazy, who are you and what did you do to Yoongi?” he chuckles and Yoongi is close to snapping. “Yeah, I bet Hoseok is super thankful you guys didn’t rot in the hotel for two days straight. How has that worked though?”

Yoongi grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. Rot? Even if they didn’t spend much time in the hotel, they time they did was fun. Fuck, Yoongi shared his phone to watch a movie with Hoseok. Why would they rot? Why is Yoongi is a boring person a common trope in these conversations? Scratch that, why is Yoongi is overall unbearable to be with the undertone of Namjoon’s words?

“What?” he aks and his tone grows deeper and angrier.

“Well, you know. You and him. I figured you guys didn’t even like each other, barely talked and since you guys are so different!” he laughs– he dares to laugh. “Well, the things we do for the sake of survival, huh?”

Yoongi had only ever been mad at Namjoon in two occasions. 

The first time was in college when he’d just met him. Namjoon had knocked over a large glass of water over Yoongi’s laptop while he worked on his Music History final on the first semester when they roomed together. Of course he was mad but it had been an accident and Namjoon ended up writing half of his essay back by sheer memory of what Yoongi had read to him for feedback, so it had been okay. 

The second time was two years ago, they were drunk and Namjoon had headed back to their apartment for a solid nap and Yoongi asked him to leave the door  open for him so that when he came back he could easily slide into his bed and drift into his sweet sweet pending hangover. Namjoon had, not only locked, but fell into a deep REM sleep cycle that lasted sixteen hours, leaving Yoongi to sleep on the hallway leading to their dorm and puking in one of the pots of the fake plants that they put outside for decoration. Of course he was annoyed, but it had been another accident and it kinda had been his fault for not heading back with him, and Namjoon apologized once he woke up and bought breakfast for the two of them, and it had also been okay. 

However, the third time in which Yoongi gets mad at Namjoon, it doesn’t feel like an accident and it had not been okay.

When Yoongi tells the story –many months later– of how he screamed at Namjoon in the middle of a french clothing store, he swears the rest of the conversation goes a bit smoother than what Namjoon recalls, on the contrary, the other man points out that he genuinely feared for his life in the moment and apologizes still, seasons later after the incident. 

There were many things said and Yoongi cursed at Namjoon in the thickest Daegu satoori he could manage at that moment, but to be summed up quickly and very PG-13, it’s something along the lines of Min Yoongi is not inherently lazy and soulless but still a person who cares about others and has the ability to walk for more than one hundred meters and sleep less than twenty hours at a time, and he too, is likeable enough to be friends with Jung Hoseok, thank you very much.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Namjoon says after ten seconds of static noise and a thousand kilometers –both physically and emotionally– in between them. “You are so right, I’m so so sorry, Yoongi.”
The other man’s agitated breathing and reddening face slowly retakes it’s resting form. 

“No.” Yoongi mutters. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, I’m sorry.” he says and places his hand on his eyes and wipes the little drops of sweat that had formed in his fit of rage. “It’s fine, whatever.” It wasn’t. “I’m just,” he sighs. “My head is a mess, I’m confused.”
Namjoon’s hesitating voice asks. “About what?”
Yoongi hangs up. 

 

He ends up buying a very simple outfit –which he doesn’t try on because he hates dressing rooms in general– a pair of black slacks, a turtle neck, and a blazer. All black, nothing else. 

After his little chat with Namjoon, Yoongi carries his remaining anger –which still is a considerable size– like a heavy backpack that pushes his posture towards the ground and makes him wear his head low. 

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks him a few blocks before they get to the hotel. “You look upset.”

Yoongi licks the inside of his cheek. I am. “I’m not, I’m just tired.” Hoseok looks at him and doesn’t believe a single word. 

“You’re not.” he states. “But whatever it is you can tell me. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you need someone to talk…” he gestures to himself. “I mean I’m not Seokjin or Namjoon, but–”

Yoongi chuckles. “Thank god you’re not Namjoon.”
Hoseok tilts his head to the side in confusion. 

“Why? Did you two fight?”

Yoongi shakes his head and his eyes search for their hotel in the distance. 

“We’re almost there. I’m taking a nap, you can shower first.”

Hoseok nods, defeated. 

“Okay.” he says. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks abruptly.
Yoongi looks to the side. Fucking great. Just fantastic. Not only did he manage to threaten Namjoon’s physical and moral integrity, but he’s made Hoseok thing he did something wrong. Couldn’t he just not mess up his interpersonal relationships for two seconds? 

“No,” he says calmly. “no, not even in the slightest. You shouldn’t worry about that, though, It’s okay.”
Hoseok frowns.
“No, I should. You are my friend.”  

Are they really? Might Namjoon be right, it would be in debate whether him are Hoseok could be truly considered as friends.  What if they were just eachother’s lifesavers in the ocean of uncertainty that being by themselves in a foreign city without their comfort zone friends? Desperately holding on to eachother in hopes to feel some sort of normalcy in this trip. Once the guys arrive, Hoseok won’t need him anymore.

“Thanks,” it’s all he manages out. “I’m fine.”
When they step inside the elevator and then inside their room, Yoongi flops on the bed and let’s himself drift away in the waves of fear of his own vagueness. 

 


 

When he wakes up, several hours later, Hoseok is not there.  Yoongi figures he might have grown bored of him and left to see the city by himself while Yoongi slept his own sadness away –a practice very common. He props his elbows and rests them to the sides of his body, with one hand, he checks on his phone. 

 

kim namjoon: bud, im so sorry 

kim namjoon : i messed up

kim namjoon: your not boring, and we all love you

kim namjoon: i bet hoseok is really lucky to have you as a travel partner

kim seokjin: you were at rue cler and all you ate were cheese creps. am i a fucking joke to u.

kim namjoon: please, say something.

 

Yoongi taps on the screen for the most solid and honest answer he can manage. 

 

Min Yoongi: *you’re

 

He places the phone on the bedside and sits on the bed, his gaze fixed on the window. It’s almost eight and the sun still hasn’t gone down, the buildings reach for the clouds and very far away, the Eiffel Tower awaits for him. 

Maybe he can come up with an excuse.

–Sorry Seok, I’m deadly allergic to metal so I can’t be near metal structures such as that. 

–Oh, Hoseok, I forgot to tell you but our reservation had been a joke all of this time, french humor is weird as fuck. 

–Hey, Hoseok, uh, I actually don’t want to go. 

The last one seems the most plausible out of the three. He can straight up just tell Hoseok the truth, how he doesn’t want to go because he knows that he’s a victim of marketing and that his feelings have been stirred, mixed and then shaken by the parisian lights and their deep wonderings about life. Knowing eachother better and finding out that Yoongi might want to know more things about him until there are no secrets left about Hoseok, going in this life long journey of the scientific study about the inners of Jung Hoseok’s complex and twisted mind. 

“Yoongi! You’re awake! I got us donuts.” Hoseok sing songs from the door. “Or maybe you do-nut want to eat, so I bought orange juice too. Orange-you-glad?”
Somewhere in a plane, Seokjin laughs for no reason and Namjoon gets startled awake. 

“I will jump from the balcony and die.” Yoongi says as he reaches for the window and Hoseok laughs. 

“So dramatic,” he huffs. “Anyway, get dressed so we can head over. Are you feeling better?”

Yoongi nods. No. “Yes.” he lies. “I had kind of a migraine so I needed to sleep it off. You know how it is.”
“I think your “migraine” is on the plane already, has your “migraine” already “apologized” for probably being an “asshole”?.” Hoseok says as he puts a lot of emphasis on the air quote signs he does with his hands three too many times. 

Yoongi chuckles. 

“Whoever taught you how to do air quotes is definitely proud of you.” He says sarcastically. “And yeah, I don’t like being mad at Namjoon but sometimes he’s just clumsy, with his literal body and with his words.”
Hoseok  sighs in understanding. “I figure. What did you guys fight about?”
Yoongi bites his lips and rubs his eyes. 

“Nothing in particular.” He says quickly. “I’m taking a shower and getting dressed, have you showered yet?” Hoseok nods. “Good, then, get ready and we’ll go, okay?” he grabs a donut and stuffs it in his face. “mfthanfks for mfthe dofnufts.”

Like that, he disappears behind the door and the shower starts running. 

 

There are many differences between Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi is a night person, works better under the chilling silence of the moonlight and the creeping cold in his feet. Hoseok can’t deal with silence and being still, dance workshops are always better when the morning sun enters through the big windows of the studio staining the wooden floors with yellow and orange hues that disguise the dancers’ blush. 

Yoongi likes quiet, Hoseok screams. Yoongi doesn’t believe in ghosts, Hoseok carries many ghost protection bracelets on his arms and has many talismans in all of his bags. Yoongi doesn’t like being touched and Hoseok loves skinship. Yoongi makes jokes, Hoseok laughs. 

It’s always been like that, Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung are more similar to Hoseok. All dancers, all laughing people, all incredibly touchy within themselves. Namjoon and Seokjin are more like Yoongi, the ones who make the jokes, shy at times, low voices and discrete touches. 

And their friendship sort of happen by accident when Namjoon stumbles into Taehyung at college and ends up tutoring him in Art History and Seokjin almost kills Jungkook with his car and Jimin almost kills him with his fists; somehow Yoongi and Hoseok come into the mix and three years later they actually know eachother. 

They don’t realize that while they’re polar opposites in the things that don’t matter, they are too similar in the things that do. 

But that isn’t the point, the point is how Hoseok and Yoongi are completely different and how that would never work out, and everyone who looked at them, even from afar, could tell. 

Like for example, how Hoseok’s suit is completely white with a white dress shirt underneath and the bright red scarf he tried back at the store hugging his throat; while Yoongi is wearing the black blazer and slacks with a black turtleneck underneath. 

“You look like a pimp.” Yoongi laughs. 

“You look like my college sociology professor or the man that buried my great grandma.” Hoseok snorts. 

And like that they aren’t that different. 

“Okay, so I guess we’re ready?” Yoongi says, eyes still fixed on Hoseok’s silhouette under the white garments. “You look good, by the way.” he mutters under his breath and looks at his feet. 

“Thank you, you look very good too.” Hoseok smiles and bows his head politely.  “Shall we get going, mon ami?”

Yoongi chuckles. “A true parisian.”

 

Over them, the  full moon shines bright like an open eye, and it reminds Yoongi of the vitrals at Notre Dam. He’s hesitant again to reach for Hoseok’s hand and instead, he shoves them into his pockets. It’s cold, very cold outside. Besides their original outfits, they are wearing big scarves around their faces and coats of similar palette –Yoongi hidden under a black trench coat and Hoseok wearing a nude colored coat with big black buttons on the front.–. 

They walk side to side to the sidewalk when Yoongi fishes out his phone and orders an uber. 

“My score went from 4.9 to 4.2,” he states with a smile and his gums creep from below his upper lip. “Guess our little stroll in the rain might have not pleased our last driver.”
Hoseok places his chin on the crook of Yoongi’s shoulder and looks at the screen, while the contact startles Yoongi, he doesn't move at all. 

“A damp little stroll.” Hoseok whispers. “I’ve done worse, I puked on an uber once and my score reached 3.8. We now use cabs and public transport when we are drunk.”

Yoongi pats his head in an affectionate way, a bit too affectionate for his taste. 

“If you consider the ultimate car horror story that is Seokjin almost murdering Jungkook with his car and Jimin suckerpunching his face, it’s not that bad.” Yoongi recalls this common ground they have, and Hoseok laughs faintly. 

“I love that story. I have never in my life had to drive to a police precinct until that day when I picked Jimin.” he says. “You were there, right?”

Yoongi nods and his eyes wander towards the dark sky, some stars are visible and the moon keeps staring at them. 

“I was the car.” 

Hoseok retrieves his head from Yoongi’s shoulder only to smack him gently. “You’re so dumb.” he nags. “No, I remember seeing you at the precinct. You were holding a tissue against Jin’s bloody nose while he kept crying oh my face, my beautiful face .” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I was in the passenger’s seat. Jungkook flew over the windshield and his papers scattered all over the street.” he explains. “Seokjin was crying already when Jimin did a kamehameha on his face.”

Hoseok giggles.

“It’s that one.” Yoongi points to the car pulling up next to them. “Let’s go.” 

And like the gentlemen they both are, their hands meet at the door handle.

“I open.” Yoongi says.

“No, I open.” Hoseok argues. 

“I ordered it.”  

“I’m paying.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“You’re paying?” he gasps and that was a mistake because the surprise catches him off guard and his grip weakens on the door handle and it’s finally Hoseok the one to open.
Yoongi gets inside, reluctant, and once he sits he crosses his arms in defeat and in his mouth a little pout forms. 

“I won.” Hoseok grins when he follows. “To the Eiffel Tower, please.” He commands confident, but it’s kind of pointless because the driver already has the destiny on the GPS.

“I can’t believe you tricked me like that.” He groans. “Just because of that, you’re now morally and legally obliged to pay.”

Hoseok, who had his gaze fixed on the window turns to him and winks.

“Who said I lied?” he asks. “Here’s dinner.” from his coat he takes out a donut wrapped neatly in parchment paper. “Bone apple teeth.”

Yoongi sighs. 

“That’s not how it’s pronounced, I hope you know that.”

 

Standing below the Eiffel Tower reminds Yoongi of the times, he as a kid, sneaked into his father’s conversation with his work colleagues. They would look at him, small and big eyed with the stars on his pupils, and would answer all the questions he could possibly have. 

–“What does father do?” 

“He works in the stock market.”

“What is a stock market?”

“It’s like a store where you can buy little pieces of places that sell other things. For example, if you buy a piece of McDonald’s, do you like McDonald’s, Yoongi?”

He would move his head up and down in agreement. 

“If you buy a piece of McDonald’s, every time someone buys a burger you get the money equivalent of a bite, yeah?” The man he’s seen so close to his father in the past months had answered as he adjusted his tie. “If you buy more pieces of McDonald’s you get more bites and therefore, more money. Money that you can use to buy more pieces or buy gifts for your mom and your brother. Do you understand now, Yoongi?”

He would nod again, even more forcefully than the previous time. –

Years later Yoongi would later understand that the stock market is slightly more complicated than what his uncle Do Yinhyung had explained to him on the warmest summer afternoon of the first year in the milenium. 

But of all the things he’d gotten from those conversations was that Yoongi loved to understand things and see what they were made of. The way his father made money –advising other people whether they should by pieces of McDonald’s or Google or LINE–, the way music is made –a series of waves that travel through air and space that depending on the length or width of a wave, the sound would vary–, the way people build this nets in between them.

In a way, the underneath of the Eiffel tower is kinda like that. On the outside it’s this towering giant of pop culture that’s been replicated and sold in millions of shapes and forms –he would know, their shopping trip had been plagued with outdoor vendors offering keychains, mugs and t-shirts.– and it has all this connotations that by itself, the tower wouldn’t have.

In the end, it was just that: a tower. 

From below, Yoongi can see all the wires and metallic bars that hold it together, intertwined like a series of various nets made out of iron, copper and steel. And it’s breathtaking to see it upclose, how this is still a man made thing, there are no mirrors and smoke: it’s a tower, it’s just that. 

So, of course, it annoys Yoongi the fact that his brain is freaking out about being there with Hoseok by his side. 

“It’s so big.” Hoseok gasps as he intakes the image and his eyes look different to Yoongi from what they have looked since they met, brighter, softer, kinder. “It looks like a spider web.”
Yoongi leans over to him. 

“Imagine if it fell.”
Hoseok turns to him, frown pronounced and eyebrows furrowed. “What is wrong with you?” he laughs and smacks his shoulder. “It’s bad enough we have to go all the way up, if I pass out on the elevator, tell the people I’ve died so they don’t make fun of me.”He pleads. 

Yoongi agrees. “You’re pride is first always.”
When he looks around he’s come to notice that around them, dozens of couple hug and kiss, scattered around the perimeter and Yoongi needs to remind himself that this is just a tower and he’s not like them. He’s not going to look at Hoseok any different just because they are in the most famous accumulation of metal structures in the world.

“Look at them,” Hoseok says when he catches up on what’s taking Yoongi’s attention. “All lovey-dovey. They really think they are doing something kissing on the Eiffel tower like it hasn’t been done a million times before.”
Yoongi nods and in hopes that his matching enthusiasm masks the fact that his heart is aching.  

“I tell you, this city is made for saps.” he says. “I guess we are more clever than that.”
Hoseok turns to him and his smile is a smile but at the same time is unreadable.

“Yes, we are.”

In the elevator Hoseok doesn’t pass out but he might as well have. 

His hands grasp at Yoongi’s thigh and the armrest that’s inside the elevator where he’s holding on to dear life, behind him, Yoongi grabs his shoulders and tries to keep him grounded. 

“Are we there yet?” Hoseok asks since he can’t see, his eyelids pressed shut to shield him from the terror that awaits for them outside the glass. 

“Nope.” Yoongi says popping the sound of the last syllable. “But it’s beautiful here. I can kinda see our hotel and, wait- is the elevator shaking?”

Hoseok squeals and he doesn’t care about the little spanish family and the italian couple they’re sharing the elevator ride with. ¿Por qué grita este hombre?¿ Ha enloquecido? Se questo ragazzo non sta zitto, lo colpirò alla gola.

“Don’t joke like that, hyung.” Hoseok cries as he hits his shoulder repeatedly. “Are we there yet?”
“No.” Yoongi replies and the elevator door opens. Hoseok, of course, is the first one to step outside. 

“You are an asshole.” Hoseok hisses when Yoongi catches up to him at the reception of the restaurant. Once they get inside to their reservation, they are seated right next to the window to Hoseok’s disdain. 

The place is very elegant and modern, the ceilings are low –understandable– and have intricate pattern detail carved with lights and gold motives, the walls around them have squares cut into them and little mirrors inside.

Oddly enough, the place is considerably empty, just them and two or three tables more –which comes as s surprise since Yoongi had read that to eat in that restaurant you needed to make a reservation two months in advance and Namjoon had been so shocked he’d made it three prior. Why would it be so empty?

He understands it when they are handed the menu. 

The food is terribly expensive and by the pictures he’d seen on the internet, the portions were ridiculously small. 

Hoseok looks at him and he looks back at Hoseok. 

“Let’s have bread and wine and we can grab a hotdog afterwards. Deal?”

Yoongi nods. 

“Deal.”

 

kim seokjin: i have the feeling that you are about to make a big food related mistake, where are you?

 

His phone buzzes and Yoongi ignores it. 

 

kim seokjin: wait are you at our reservation at Le Jules Verne 

kim seokjin: MIN YOONGI IF YOU MISS OUT ON QUALITY FOOD JUST BECAUSE IT’S EXPENSIVE I’LL DESTROY YOU

 

“Anyway,” Yoongi coughs when he flips his phone so the screen faces the table. “So what do you have in mind?”
Hoseok lifts his eyes from the wine menu. “I’m looking for the cheapest bottle, don’t interrupt me please.” he says dead serious. “This one was harvested like two years ago and it’s “local” or something? It’s the least expensive one, so we’ll go with that. I guess we can buy more booze when we actually eat.” he ponders. 

 

There’s a sweet and melancholic saxophone playing in the distance when the waiter brings them a basket of bread and pops open their bottle of wine. 

“Thank you.” Hoseok  says politely in english when he grabs his recently served glass that's filled three quarters in. 

“So, this is the end.” he says as he takes the first sip. “Wow, this is their cheapest one? It’s so good.” 

Yoongi follows and drinks as well. It’s fruity but has a bitter aftertaste, not sour not burning, but bitter. “It’s good.” 

Hoseok takes another and proceeds. “The end of our little adventure.” he pronounces ominously tilting his head to the side. “I had fun. Did you have fun?”

Yoongi gives him half a smile. “I did.” 

Hoseok hand reaches for his over the table, tenderly, painfully friendly. “That’s great.” he replies. “I was actually a bit scared at first. I feel like I was going to annoy you and you’d grow exhausted of me.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow. “Why is that?” his palm hesitantly turns upside down and waits a little. 

“I guess because I can be annoying. I’m too loud and I am always in the search of doing something. Staying still makes me feel some kind of way.”

Yoongi’s thumb rubs gently over the back of Hoseok’s fingers. “What kind of way?”
Hoseok takes another sip.

“Like I am forced to listen to my own thoughts. I start thinking about dogs, and then I think about Mickey and how much I love him and how one day Mickey will get old and how Mickey will get sick and how Mickey is required by the law of nature to die someday.” he says with a bittersweet smile as he focuses on the deep burgundy drink. “And so on. I think about celery and then about how I need to eat healthy or I will get sick and die. I think about dancing and how if I get substantially hurt I may not dance ever again. It always ends up spiraling into something sad and I don’t like thinking about those things.”
Yoongi intertwines their fingers and gives Hoseok a tight squeeze. 

“So you keep yourself busy doing things you like so you don’t have time to think about things that make you sad.” he guesses and Hoseok agrees with his head.

“Exactly. I’ve always admired your ability to think thoroughly. I sometimes see you so in your head and I wonder what’s going on inside.”
Yoongi can’t bring himself to admit that at least in the past 48 hours he’s been thinking about Hoseok. 

“I think about many things.” he explains. “About work. About Namjoon, about Holly. Mostly like a checklist. The things I have to do, the things I want to do, the things I shouldn’t.”
Hoseok grins and his lids lower a bit.

“What do you want to do?”
He grips harder on Yoongi’s hand and for a second, Yoongi almost forgets his hand is on his. 

You, for example [audience laughter].

“I want to make music.” Is all he says. “I want to be a better person, you know, boring things like that.”
Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and tucks a little strand behind his ear. 

“I see.” He takes another drink from his glass. “And what things shouldn’t you do?”

You, for example [audience disappointed ‘aww’].

“I shouldn’t be so grumpy and temperamental maybe. I can be a bit harsh on other people but most of all, on myself.” He chugs down a quarter from the three the waiter poured in his glass.

Bearing in mind that they are drinking on empty stomachs and that they won’t eat for a while, maybe they should stop now. 

But they don’t.

“You’re an enigma.” Hoseok chuckles. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t read you.” he confesses.

Yoongi is thankful he can’t. 

“I’ve tried to read you for this past three years. When I saw you at precinct, I wondered what your tight lipped face and your seemingly stormless eyes meant. I didn’t know anything about you then,” he takes a loaf of bread –leaving Yoongi’s hand in the process– and breaks it in two, handing one half to Yoongi. “and then we spoke a couple of times, I heard things about you and thought that maybe I could.” he puts a tiny bit in his mouth and proceeds to chew. “and now that I’ve got to know you better I feel like I’m back on square one.” he gestures with the palm of his hand his own frustration. 

Yoongi’s blood begins to feel lighter and a bit warmer. 

“I feel like it’s better that way. Mysteries is what keep our brains active.” he states petulant, taking –foolishly– another sip. He realizes both their glasses are empty and takes the bottle to pour them more, both glasses now filled dangerously over the three quarter mark.

“I like mysteries too.” Hoseok says and his smile grows wider and his pupils dance more freely. 

Yoongi takes yet another sip to wash down the bread. 

“And you?”
Hoseok gets caught mid drink. 

“What about me?” He asks defensively. 

“Why do you keep calling yourself an asshole when you say something vague?”

Hoseok smiles. 

“Because I am.” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I guess I don’t really speak my mind when I should.” His hand rests in between them. “When it matters.”
Yoongi’s fingers caress the table cloth as they try to find their way back to Hoseok’s palm.

He wants to ask but it’s too risky. 

“I was wondering,” he plays with the thought. “about how I always thought you disliked me.”

Hoseok’s face twists. “Why?”
Yoongi rest his head on his own shoulder and he begins to laugh. “I don’t know. We never really talked.” he glances at the window next to them. “I almost forgot we’re several meters above the ground.”
Hoseok closes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Please don’t remind me.” he jokes. “But hey, just so you know I’ve always liked you.” he reassures him and his hand suddenly reaches for Yoongi’s and his fingers lower gently into the touch. 

And Yoongi doesn’t miss the faint whisper coming out of Hoseok’s mouth. 

“Probably too much.”

 


 

No joke was told but they are laughing until it feels like it did. It’s nearing midnight when the waiter comes to their table to tell them that the kitchen is closed –in his face, they can read the sarcasm of his words when all they have is bread and wine. 

They decide to split the bill when they start bickering about wanting to pay with Hoseok arguing that he was the man and he was obligated to pay and with Yoongi counterarguing with the fact that they are both men. 

When that’s done, they are guided back to the elevator and it’s then when they realize that aside of them, the restaurant was completely empty and so was the elevator. 

“How you feeling, Seok?” Yoongi asks fighting to keep his gaze straight and his feet stable on the ground. 

“Oh it feels like I could just die.” he laughs, his eyes closed shut. “I thought that the alcohol would help but I can’t see that. I can’t see us falling into the void.”
Yoongi steps inside the elevator and the doors close behind him. 

It’s probably the alcohol or the fact that they’ve been laughing and holding hands for the past hour, but something in his mind tells him to get close. Very close. 

“So you can’t see anything.” He tests the waters before diving and Hoseok smiles and shakes his head. “If I could I would be screaming, so yeah, no heights for me, sir.”
With every step he takes, Yoongi’s heart grows faster and tighter. 

“You’re afraid?” he asks, one foot in front of the other. 

“I’m so afraid.” Hoseok’s tone gets lower and more obscure. 

Yoongi takes another step and he knows Hoseok can tell by the intensity of his voice that he’s getting closer and closer. 

“Of heights.” he says and stops when they are less than a hand width apart. His face nears him and he can tell that Hoseok knows he’s close but they are drunk and confused.

 He tilts his head to the side carefully and their noses are parallel to eachother, so close that Yoongi can feel the wine in Hoseok’s breath against his lips. 

“Of falling.”

And with that, the elevator reaches the ground.

 

When Hoseok opens his eyes, Yoongi is already outside the elevator adjusting his coat which until then, he had carried, folded in half and draped over his crossed arms. 

Instead of it being awkward like it should, they laugh. In the air the question asked floats instead like a childish joke.
“The city and the alcohol really getting to us, huh?” Hoseok chuckles. “I would eat a hot dog but I ate so much bread I feel one more bite would come out of my nose.” Yoongi snorts. 

Hoseok sighs as he rubs his stomach. “Shit, me too.”
When Hoseok looks at Yoongi after he’s done putting his own coat back, Yoongi is staring blankly at the tower, his pupils reflecting the bright yellow lines that illuminate them in the night. 

There are still couples scattered around, but far less than the ones they saw when they arrived. Yoongi wonders if they see them and think the same thing. That they are another pair of idiots who came to this town and expected that a kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower would mean anything. 

 

It startles him when Hoseok grabs his waist and starts sawing from side to side. 

 

There’s no music, not even a trumpet or a voice, but inside his head, there’s so much music he can’t help but to dance as well. 

They are drunk and dancing in silence in front of the Eiffel tower and Yoongi hates himself because the butt of the joke ended up being him, he fell for Hoseok in a span of two days because he’s just ridiculous like that. 

He turns around and wraps his arms around Hoseok’s neck and lets his head rest on his shoulder. 

And like that they dance, and it’s so absurd and they are so drunk that the laughter comes without question. 

They are doing the box step now, Yoongi tripping over his own feet trying his best not to step on Hoseok’s, failing and throwing his head back because how dumb this is. 

There’s no music, but Hoseok’s hands are in Yoongi’s waist and Yoongi’s arms in Hoseok’s neck and over them, the moon makes fun of them because they tried to fool this old town and failed miserably. 

Their slow sways are slightly uncoordinated and clumsy, Hoseok’s feet are a repeated victim of Yoongi’s, there’s no sound but yet, so much music inside them. 

 

Alors je sens en moi

Mon coeur qui bat

 

Yoongi thinks of the only french song he can remember now and he hates that he can only remember the most clichè song for this moment.

He takes a deep breath and his chest rubs against Hoseok’s. 

“This is so dumb.” He whispers with that gummy smile that appears when he’s drank so much, his eyes lidded and focused on their step under the pretense on knowing where to step but in reality, because if he looks at Hoseok in the eye, all his self control would be lost.

“It is.” Hoseok laughs and Yoongi finally manages to gather the courage to look up. It’s a mistake. 

 

There are good ideas and bad ideas. 

A good idea would be to laugh it off, call it a night and go back to the hotel to sleep away his stupid fucking crush until he gets back to normal and forget this ever happen. 

It was solid, objective, very thoughtful, vegan friendly, gluten free, most likely to not end in flames. 

But Yoongi is an idiot. 

Hoseok is not very taller than Yoongi as most people would think. It’s only a couple of centimeters and despite this, if Yoongi fixes his posture, they are almost at eye level. Which comes a blessing, because the first thing he sees when he looks up is that Hoseok’s eyes are closed, his mouth slightly parted, humming a symphony Yoongi is not familiar with, still moving side to side, a smile creeping from his drunken lips. 

And all Yoongi wants to do, when Hoseok’s face is so close, and when the music is only in his head and Hoseok’s, their hearts racing and chest flushed, is to ask. 

 

“Seok.” He calls and his voice is many octaves lower than before. 

Hoseok opens his eyes and his gaze oscillates in between Yoongi’s own and his lips.

“Yoongi.” he whispers. 

“This is dumb.” Yoongi states as his face nears Hoseok’s, tilting to the side the way he did in the elevator, trying to finish this joke they started. 

“Really dumb.” Hoseok pants as he gives in to the cercany. 

“We’re drunk. And dumb.” Yoongi basically whines as he refrains himself from closing the space in between them, even if their noses are brushing and their foreheads pressed together. 

“Yes.” Hoseok sighs and Yoongi can feel the wine again. 

“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi whispers and swallows spit as he wait for an answer that may or may not crush him into tiny little pieces even though he is drunk and he knows all of this started as a game. 

 

“Yes.” Hoseok says hesitant in a voice so low and faint it’s almost inaudible but they are so close that Yoongi hears it as loud and clear as a scream. 

 

When Yoongi closes the space, and his lips meet Hoseok’s he doesn’t expect what follows. Hoseok presses him closer the minute they kiss, hungry and desperate like he’s been wanting this for forever, like Yoongi’s mouth has the secret to all of the questions. Like it’s not a game, like this might not be as dumb as they thought. 

Yoongi finds himself realizing how much he could want Hoseok’s mouth on his, his lips adjusting to Yoongi’s and sucking on them, a teasing tongue playing in between like it’s afraid to enter a war zone. 

His face grows hotter and it’s like the alcohol makes it slower and warmer, their kiss dampening with the second. 

Their tongues meet with a wet plopping sound, licking and sucking the other, air quickly leaving their lungs but they would rather asphyxiate. 

Yoongi can feel the blood leaving his brain and rushing everywhere, his cheeks, his arms, his back, he could combust out of the electricity that sparks in that kiss, too much to be just a silly curious kiss in between friends, he has to remind himself that it is just that. 

But Hoseok’s hold tightening around his waist and pulling him closer makes him have second thoughts.

The way his mouth feels so wet and hot, it’s almost unbearable. 

Hoseok moans into the kiss and Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose.

They could be like that forever until Yoongi’s clock beeps startling them awake from their trance. 

 

“It’s midnight.” Yoongi pants against Hoseok’s lips. “We should, uh, head back.”
Hoseok nods, silent still, unsure. 

Yoongi breaks the hold and takes two steps behind. 

“I’m calling the uber.” he says and fixes his attention on the phone, he’s never put so much effort into anything ever, feeling Hoseok’s eyes on him. 

Thankfully it arrives in exactly a minute.

“It’s this one,” Yoongi points at the car. “We should go in.”

They get inside and stay silent but his thighs brush and hands itch to intertwine but they’re too shy, it’s only a tender and hesitant linking of pinkies they manage to have.

 

“It was fun.” Hoseok laughs as they reach the elevator and close the gate behind them. Yoongi stares intensely at the number of floors they are passing. 

“Yup. Really fun.” he mutters licking his lips nervously.  “We are so stupid.” he giggles as he presses the palm of his hand against his forehead. 

“Idiotic.” Hoseok grins, hands stuffed in his pockets, gaze on the mirror ceiling. 

“Imbecile.” Yoongi continues, trying to suppress a smile.

“Moronic.” Hoseok breaks into laughter. 

“Foolish.” they reach their floor and Yoongi opens the gate. 

Hoseok follows closely and now it’s Yoongi fighting against his drunken hands and the keys. 

“Really brainless of us.” Hoseok chuckles. The door opens, Yoongi steps inside. “Quite ludicrous thing to do.” he shrugs and drops the key on the bedside table. He turns and sees Hoseok leaning against the wall looking at him. “I’m so drunk.” He sighs and shakes his head blinking rapidly. Yoongi nods. “To be fair we drank a whole ass bottle of wine on an empty stomach. Not the brightest thing ever.”

Hoseok walks towards him. “Yeah not the most intelligent thing, huh?” he asks, disposing of his coat, Yoongi does the same. 

“Well,” he pretends to think and both of them erupt into laughter. 

“Yeah that was something .” Hoseok  huffs widening his eyes. “It was.” Yoongi giggles, looking at his own feet as he sits on the bed, the blood returning to stain his cheeks. 

Hoseok sits next to him. 

 

“I, um, I was wondering if we could, uh, have another kiss?” 

Yoongi’s blood pressure skyrockets so fast he might as well have gone into cardiac arrest. 

 

The mature thing to do here would be to politely decline, keep laughing about it, pass out and forget it ever happened. 

It was a great idea, non BPA, organic, without added sugar. 

But once again, Yoongi is a massive idiot.

 

“Sure.” he says as if Hoseok had just ask him if he could have a piece of gum or if he could borrow his phone charger. 

“It felt different.” Hoseok confesses as he turns to Yoongi. 

“Did you like it?” Yoongi asks a bit too serious, his face burning as their gazes meet. 

“I did. I liked kissing you.” Hoseok giggles. “It feels good. We should do things that makes us feel good.” he whispers as he nears his face to Yoongi’s shoulders and plants a chaste kiss on the highest point. “Did you feel good?”
Yoongi swallows spit and clenches his jaw. 

“It felt very good.”
Hoseok snickers against Yoongi’s neck. “We really are not smart people.” he whispers and his lips are now at Yoongi’s jaw. 

“Please.” Yoongi whimpers and his hand cups Hoseok’s cheek. “Stop teasing me or whatever.” He growls. 

Hoseok brushes his nose against Yoongi’s.

“Why? I’m having so much fun.” his hand rests on Yoongi’s thigh. “I’m really getting a kick out of you.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and even in his annoyance, his face still burns. “Just do it already,” he grunts. “please?”
Hoseok smiles against Yoongi’s lips and the other is quick to attach his own.

This time, is slower. Slow like sand inside an hourglass, every grain falling, one by one, no rush, no need to end it any soon.
It’s like they’ve done it a million times, Hoseok’s hungry mouth opening slightly to catch in between his lips, Yoongi’s upper or lower one; Yoongi’s tongue feeling restless, craving to taste Hoseok’s taste, to lick the inside of his cheek, to suck on his hot and wet tongue that could make Yoongi scream so loud, even his mother back in Korea would hear him. 

It’s slow and painful. Painful in his chest because he knows it’s nothing worth remembering, painful in his mouth that doesn’t quite clench his thirst, painful in between his legs, where shame is gathering in the form of heat. 

But he doesn’t want Hoseok to stop, he wants him to keep going even if he doesn’t know where they are headed. 

Their kiss turns heated and faster, Yoongi’s hands wander curiously around Hoseok’s arms and shoulders to press him closer, Hoseok grabs Yoongi’s thigh so abruptly and forcefully that the other man moans into the kiss. It has Hoseok smiling, Yoongi’s lips crashing against his pearly teeth. 

“W-what?” Yoongi pants, desperate to continue their kiss –or several kisses?

Hoseok grips tighter, and Yoongi’s breathing becomes heavier. 

“I like kissing you.” Hoseok whispers into Yoongi’s mouth and reconnects their lips. “I like kissing you so much.” he moans, his tongue darting inside Yoongi’s mouth and his lips playing with Yoongi’s. They stay like that for a couple of minutes with an increasing in the temperature with each passing second.

There’s absolute silence in the room except from their unsteady breathing and the wet sounds of their mouths colliding. Yoongi wants more, a lot more. He wants to touch so much and kiss so much. He wants his mouth to taste the warmth of Hoseok’s forever, to suck on his lip and play with his tongue. 

Hoseok’s lips leave Yoongi with a massive emptiness only to find a new home in his neck. Yoongi tangles his fingers in Hoseok’s long black locks. 

“Seok.” He moans. “Does this keep counting as one kiss or–” Hoseok shuts him up with a gentle peck on the lips. “Yoongi.” he whispers against his jaw. “can I kiss your neck?” he places a wet and humid peck underneath. “Please?”
Yoongi nods, his face furiously red and his neck hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth and his unsteady breathing, his low and grave voice. 

“F-fuck.” he says and a knot forms in the lowest part of his stomach. “Hoseok, this feels so good.”

Hoseok laughs against the tender skin. “Isn’t it kind of supposed to be like that?”
Even when his legs are shaking and his neck is being thoroughly taken care of, Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Am I?” Hoseok questions as his lips find a spot in between Yoongi’s neck and his clavicle and sucks hard, it stings a little but it makes Yoongi cross his legs. His breath hitches in his throat and suddenly there’s no air. 

“T-this might be weird but,”Yoongi whimpers. “Can I sit on your lap? this is kind of uncomfortable.”
Hoseok nods. “Only if you let me kiss you some more.” he says. Yoongi’s legs move to wrap around Hoseok’s waist and place his butt on his hips. The other man’s hands rest at the small of Yoongi’s back, keeping him steady and close, so close. 

Their hungry lips meet once again and their hands ache just to reach and touch, Yoongi grabs Hoseok’s face and pulls it closer, angry, fierce. His tongue licks the roof of Hoseok’s mouth and his upper lip, slowly opening and closing around the other’s tongue. 

He doesn’t ask for permission, but he plays close attention to Hoseok’s body and the way it reacts under his mouth. 

“Is this okay?” He asks before latching his mouth to Hoseok’s neck and unbuttoning the first few buttons.

“Y-yes,” he grunts. “A-and this?” he asks directly into Yoongi’s ear with a damp and warm whisper and then his hands knead the skin of Yoongi’s ass through the slacks. 

Yoongi lets out an actual moan and his hips jerk forward into Hoseok’s. 

“Please.” Yoongi pouts and his lips are swollen and spit slick, shining as if they had been coated in glitter. “Do that again, please.”
Hoseok obligues, squeezing harder and longer this time. Yoongi moans into Hoseok’s shoulder.

He pulls his own blazer off, and does the same with Hoseok’s suit, unbuttoning all the way and leaving the dress shirt open. 

His dick twitches inside his pants, and it feels too tight when he grinds down into Hoseok’s, he wants to be closer, so much closer. 

Hoseok’s cold hand untucking his turtle neck and slipping inside makes him yelp.

“It’s cold!” Yoongi chuckles against Hoseok’s lips. Hoseok smiles. “You’re so warm.” he whispers and his thumb slides from his shoulder blades to the front part of his chest. “You’re so hot I feel like you’re going to combust.” he says as he curiously grazes over his nipple, Yoongi rolls his hips harder. 

“F-fuck.” he says. He gives Hoseok a short but wet kiss. “I want to touch you.” he pleads giving another one and then other, sucking his tongue playfully. “Can I do that?”
Hoseok nods, eyes wide open and cheeks burning red. “Y-yes, please.”
His hands undo the button and the zipper, he untucks the dress shirt and sets it aside. He feels himself hesitant and Hoseok does so too. He grants him a slower and longer kiss. 

Once he’s gathered the courage, he starts slow, palm slipping inside the front of Hoseok’s white slacks but outside his boxers. 

The skin is hot and palpitating, his slender fingers rub the zone gently, caressing the burning flesh over the straining fabric. 

“Yoongi.” Hoseok cries into his lips and his hand comes to and abrupt stop. “P-please.” His voice is a whiny mess, tired, drunk and needy. Yoongi tries again, his fingers grazing over Hoseok’s aching dick, his thumb dipping inside the boxers. 

“Is that okay?” Yoongi chuckles into Hoseok’s ear, both of them have a furious blush in their cheeks and their chests, yet, they have the audacity to laugh– isn’t it still a joke?

“I mean,” Hoseok giggles and their eyes meet again. 

It feels absurd, they are doing this and it’s the funniest thing in the world apparently, because two days prior they knew nothing and now they know even less. 

The following kiss is less hot and lustful, but instead sweet. They are laughing and Yoongi feels like one wrong move and he will cum right then and there just by the fact that it’s Hoseok, Hoseok whom he’s kissing and making him moan and feel so good, Hoseok who smiles and their teeth collide. 

“Stop, smiling.” Yoongi whispers and his eyes are Hoseok’s and Hoseok’s only, his gaze focused on him, ignoring everything in the room. The darkness –they forgot to turn the lights on– the moon and the Eiffel tower mocking them from  afar. 

“I can’t.” Hoseok squeals and he jerks his hips upwards making Yoongi let out a strangled cry. 

Yoongi rolls his hips down in a petty response, motion that distracts Hoseok from his hand which is now completely touching him, no fabric in between. . 

“Holy shit,” he groans and his voice breaks. “Yoongi, I-”
Yoongi kisses him as he keeps moving his hips and his hand begins to move. 

“What do you want?” He asks against Hoseok’s lips. The other kisses him desperate, both his hands cupping Yoongi’s face. 

“I want you.” 

And even in his fever, Yoongi can’t help but to put those words in a glass box and exhibit them in his museum of heartbreaks located inside his chest. He knows Hoseok doesn’t want him. Hoseok wants to satisfy a carnal need that originated by pure stupidity and poor alcohol handling. 

Hoseok doesn’t want him but even so, Yoongi would give him everything he is if asked, without blinking, in less than a  heartbeat. 

 


 

When Yoongi wakes up the next day Hoseok is still sleeping by his side. His head hurts and so does his lips, but what aches the most is his conscience. He can’t have this discussion, he couldn’t go through with Hoseok’s mocking smile and his beach party and star gazing laughter reminding him that it had been just a drunken accident. That they were drunk and confused and the city had played mind games on them and what they did was to be left forgotten to disappear like a very thin thread in the sunlight. 

He checks his phone and rubs his temples.

 

kim namjoon: we just landed. 

kim namjoon: we’ll get a cab, we’ll be there in half an hour.

kim namjoon: let’s have breakfast, yeah?

kim namjoon: please don’t be mad at me

kim namjoon: i love you

 

Yoongi’s body fills with fear. They are on their way. And he is naked. And Hoseok is naked. And the room is a mess. And he is still hungover.

The odds are not in his favor. 

Yoongi manages to hold in his physical misery and try his best to pick up all the clothes scattered across the room, folds Hoseok’s clothes and stacks them on top of his baggage, tosses his own messily into his suitcase. He takes the quickest shower he can, his body still sticky with the aftermath of his poor life  choices, the cold water finishing the torturous process of waking him up, having to endure an imaginary walk of shame inside his head under the shower head. 

Still, the words are engraved in his bones and they echo inside Yoongi’s head. 

I want you. 

He hates those words so much because they are lies. They make him believe that maybe Hoseok would have wanted something more, that maybe Yoongi’s stupid crush made sense and that it wasn’t just him and his weird way of developing feelings. It would mean that Hoseok also felt it. The pain in the chest that Yoongi felt when Hoseok looked at the paintings with his entire body, the way the sun outlined his features under the blooming rays of the sunrise, the way Hoseok’s hand feels on his, them dancing to no music but their own. 

He wants to die. He wants to throw himself into the trash and forget this ever happened, turn back time and use his miles in that stupid and cheap airline so he didn’t have to be alone with Hoseok. So he didn’t have to know all the things he knows now. All the things he didn’t know he liked but now he can’t stop thinking about. 

He wants to go back home where Hoseok and him don’t exist as a unit but as the wild cards their friends draw from time to time, where they don’t smile in mid kisses, when they don’t make jokes, when they don’t laugh together. 

He wants to go back to where they were, to who they were. Not because it was better, but because he didn’t know how much it hurt. 

 

When he’s out of the shower, towel around his waist and wet strands of hair covering his eyes, he decides he should wake up Hoseok because he might be very much hungover, embarrassed and sad, but he is not an asshole. 

“Seok.” he says, his voice neutral, not a single trace of emotion visible. “Wake up.”

Hoseok groans and shoves his head into the pillow. 

“We’re having breakfast with the rest, let’s go.”

At that, Hoseok sits up faster than the speed of sound and the sudden motion makes his head spin. “Oh shit.” he says and he covers his eyes. “I want to die.”

Yoongi chuckles. “A whole mood.”

He returns to the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth, his mouth still tastes like alcohol –and Hoseok– and the more physical evidence he can destroy, the better. 

“Hey.” Hoseok calls from the bedroom and Yoongi peeks his head out, mouth still foamy with toothpaste. “yeah?”

Hoseok is still there, sitting on the bed, rubbing his eyes in pain.

“Are we good?” he says as he looks up to Yoongi and Yoongi turns his head to the side, hoping his hair hides his hesitant eyes. 

Are they good? That’s one of those questions that he should say yes even if it’s a lie. Because Hoseok is probably good, got laid, ate some bread, drank some wine; didn’t mess with his entire emotional stability. 

Hoseok must be better than good, so that half of the question is positive. 

‘Is Yoongi good’ is the tough question

 

He nods half heartedly, returns immediately to brushing his teeth and like most actions done when he knows Hoseok is aware of him, is done with all the attention possible. 

They don’t talk after that. 



“So, you almost left your passport.” Yoongi doesn’t ask but states matter of factly. “In the plane. Again.”

Namjoon nods, mouth filled to the brim with ratatouille, little bits of veggies falling from the side. 

“You don’t lose your dick just because it’s attached to you body and Seokjin’s hand.”  he jokes and Seokjin smacks him playfully on the shoulder, mouth filled shut as well. 

“Yoongi-ah, you’re testing my nerves. You eat poorly in a city with a magnificent culinary tradition and you also dare to insult my boyfriend.” he nags once he’s swallowed the bite. “I will destroy you.”
Yoongi chuckles at Namjoon trying to kiss Seokjin, mouth full still, and the other man rejecting his advances. 

“Okay, I love you but not that much.” he says, but underneath the table he gives his hand a tight little squeeze. 

Taehyung plays with a single spaghetti strand, his face rested on his other hand, looking at the drops of sauce fall of the noodle. 

“Gross.” he mutters at the blatant display of domesticity. 

They are eating at a place Yoongi had never been to –and neither have the rest– but that Seokjin had found on Google with good reviews and affordable price. Of course, Hoseok is seated as far as possible from him, but no one bats an eye. It’s not out of the ordinary, it’s just the routine of their sitting dynamics. 

Hoseok is seated at the end of the table, Jungkook to his left and Jimin to his right, Taehyung is on the other end, Seokjin and Namjoon to his left, Yoongi to his right. 

“Did you have guys have fun, hyung?” Jimin asks discreetly in between the mayhem that ensues when Taehyung and Jungkook fight over what to do first that morning –Taehyung wants to go to the Louvre and Jungkook wants to go to the wax museum; in the end, Namjoon will take them all to Versailles.–

Yoongi hesitates to reply but ultimately does. 

“Yeah.” he says flatly. “I didn’t bore Hoseok to death so we have that going.”
Jimin frowns. 

“Why would you say that?” he questions, somewhat offended. “You’re not a boring person, hyung.”

Yoongi feels embarrassed but he might have choked up some tears. Jimin’s patient and kind voice saying he’s not what everyone –even himself– has sentenced Yoongi to be. He grins.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “It means a lot.”
Jimin slurps the rest of his soup with a loud noise, but Yoongi can’t hear over the sound of his head booming. 

While he might have showered and chugged down a one liter bottle of gatorade, his head is still throbbing and there’s a certain awkwardness in his step.  He hopes Hoseok can’t tell. 

When they greeted the rest –an assertive twenty minutes after they woke up– he couldn’t help but to look at him. The way Hoseok’s face that had been so serious when he’d asked if they were good, contorted and transformed completely when he saw them, his eyes turning into little crescents and his cheeks puffing, little dimples appearing over his lips. 

And hey, it’s okay it wasn’t a big deal, they were good, Yoongi had no reason to overthink every single one of Hoseok’s moves and words –or the lack of.

“So what did you guys do?” Jungkook asks with those big round eyes that alternate in between Yoongi and Hoseok. 

Yoongi chokes on his americano and Hoseok stuffs his mouth with a croissant. 

“We–” Yoongi says in between coughs. “We went to the Louvre.” he clears his throat. “It was really cool but there was a lot of people. Taehyung, you’re really going to like it.”

Taehyung grows red. “I know! And that’s why we should go first!” he screams at Jungkook and the other retaliates. “I want to see the wax version of  Celine Dion!”

Good move, they spiral the conversation towards the pros and cons of each destination and it buys Yoongi time to fix himself in the meanwhile –but in the end is useless because the choice had already been made since the first time they fought about it. 

“Enough.” Namjoon says. “We’re going to Versailles so none of you win.” 

Jungkook sighs. “Why are we going to Versailles again?” he questions as he takes another spoonful of soup. 

“Because Yoongi and Hoseok haven’t been there yet.” he explains. “They haven’t been to the wax museum either.” Jungkook mutters and Taehyung slaps the table. “I will end you.” he threatens. 

 

They are too many and that’s good. They divert the attention and Yoongi has never been so grateful of Taehyung and Jungkook’s little wrestles as he is right now. 

While Jungkook puts Taehyung in a deadlock and Taehyung tries to pick Jungkook’s nose, a little voice calls him again. 

“Are you okay?” 

It’s Seokjin. He’s put his empty plate aside and started to nurse on his cup of coffee, a little pastry held in his hand. “You look a bit down.”
Yoongi clenches his jaw. 

Seokjin noticed. This is not a drill, someone noticed that Yoongi is being weird, retreat, retreat.

“I’m just tired.” he explains. “We’ve been walking too much these couple of days and my body is super sore.”
Seokjin twists his face in that way that he does when Namjoon tells him that he didn’t try to cook for him and that the kitchen just spontaneously combusted.  “I see.” he conveys. “You know that you can tell me, right.”
Yoongi sighs. 

“I know, hyung.”

I know. 

 

The thing about suffering on you own –another very common practice in Yoongi’s coping mechanisms– is that he can’t sulk properly. When he goes through a heartbreak, Seokjin and Namjoon try their best to not leave him alone, take him for long walks and keep him busy. On his sophomore year of college, when he was ghosted, the three of them completed six puzzles in a span of a week, each puzzle with at least 1,000 pieces. When his father called him and told him he was very disappointed in him because he didn’t end up being a big stock market man, they took Yoongi to the movies every day. Two weeks in, they had watched all the films in theaters. When he died, they gardened and soon his apartment was filled to the brim with beautiful living plants and flowers.

It’s like that, he has a support system that know the terrible ways in which Yoongi likes to dig holes, and help him to put the dirt back in and to rise from the death. And he’s really thankful and he knows if he tells them that his heart is hurting, they will do something about it and Yoongi can let the poison out of his system and he can start again like nothing happened and maybe Hoseok and him can have a nice, polite relationship like they used to do before they messed up. 

Correction, before Yoongi messed up. 

Because, when he comes to think of it, it was all his fault. 

He had asked to kiss Hoseok, he had been the one who developed a crush in less than forty eight hours, he’d moved heaven and earth just so Hoseok could explore the city.

With every passing minute, he regrets not sticking to character design and not sleeping his sweet twenty seven hours and binge watching Strong Girl Bong-Soon.  

And still, he can’t help but to watch. 

Hoseok’s eyes scanning the magnificent hallways and chandeliers that hang from the palace’s ceiling, the way his mouth curls into a little smirk when Jungkook and Jimin ask for the most ridiculous picture, the way he joins doing a stupid pose. 

The way his eyes linger on Yoongi’s for a split second and then wander away. 

A pair of long arms wrap him gently and Namjoon’s chin is pressed against the crown of his head.
“Did you know that most of the aristocrats of the time did drugs and had loads of gay sex?”
Yoongi huffs. 

“Hello to you too.” He unhinges himself from the contact and turns to the other man. “Why are you so touchy all of sudden?”
Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. “Because you look sad, and I was kind of an idiot yesterday.” he scrunches up his nose and presses his lips shut. “And I feel like you need hugs but you won’t ask for them, so,”

Yoongi shrugs. “You are right, you were an idiot yesterday.” he affirms but doesn’t pull away when Namjoon wraps his body in a tight hug. 

“Something is wrong but I can’t pressure you into telling me, but I just want you to know that you are loved and we will love you no matter what.”
Okay, Yoongi might still be kind of pissed but that doesn’t change the fact that Namjoon’s warm and tree-like calming presence and kind words make him tear up a bit. 

He wipes his eyes, tries to pretend that he had something rather than just a my heart is broken but I love my friends a lot .

After that, he actually takes in the rest of their Versailles tour. It’s a really cool place, he can’t believe people actually lived in such wealth while the rest of the nation starved; the high ceilings, the chandeliers, the golden motives in the walls. 

“You think our landlord would let us have that?” he says as he points to a golden statue of a woman holding a candelabrum. 

“Yeah sure, you want one? We will buy one.” Seokjin shrugs sheepishly. “Hey, do you think we can take this home?” Seokjin asks as he points to a chair with floral patterned cushions and golden legs. Yoongi nods. “I bet we can but do you really want to carry that all the way back to Korea?”

Seokjin frowns. “You’re right.”
When they are outside, a green fish statue catches Yoongi’s eye. 

“Do you think we can take that?” he asks. Seokjin shakes his head. “We can’t have more animals Yoongi. Is the fish or Holly.”
Needless to say, the don’t steal the fish statue. 

Like the things worth remembering and the things worth telling, the rest of their trip through Versailles is rather uneventful. Give and take, Yoongi’s legs hurt too much to actually enjoy it, and while Namjoon and Seokjin keep him busy with impromptu hugs and weird remarks about the pomposity of the palace – “ do you think the king ever shat the bed” Seokjin wonders as they look into the absurdly baroque furniture. “ That’s nonsense. He was so rich I bet he had people to shit the bed for him.” Yoongi answers.– he can’t help but to keep looking for Hoseok in their little crowd. He looks for him, he finds it, they make eye contact, Hoseok turns to the other side to speak to Jungkook or Taehyung. It’s like that the entire time they are there, but still, he enjoys the little stolen glances he takes from Hoseok, because he genuinely likes looking at Hoseok. Sue him, the man is beautiful. The way his little nose pokes out of his profile, his big teeth when he smiles –that he has kissed, may he add– his little moves that scream that he wants to dance with no music like he does –like they did.

He’s such a masochist because everytime he comes close –even on accident, without realizing they gravitate towards eachother on repeated occasions–Hoseok gives him a polite bow and a small look of pleasantry just before he leaves.

Yoongi misses Hoseok while having him right there with him and that’s the worst kind of missing. 

 




“You did what.” Seokjin asks with a completely straight face while Namjoon fights for his life after choking with a spoonful of ice cream. 

 

Yoongi needed a support system. After the Versailles tour, that ended way too late, they headed to the Louvre to put an end to Taehyung and Jungkook’s fight. Jungkook had gone with his arms crossed and a frown on his face but in the end, he’d found himself posing for artsy pictures to Jimin’s old instax.

And it was okay, it was just a museum. 

A museum in which Hoseok had showed him that art is a whole body ordeal, that every breath is a stroke and every kiss is a color, and most importantly, he’d shown Yoongi how beautiful a person can be even in the smallest and simplest ways which can be the way someone looks at a painting. 

But it was okay, it was always okay. 

“Hey,” Hoseok says when he sees Yoongi contemplating the painting with the gods and the clouds and while it was a painting showcased in one of the most famous art museums in the world with millions of people coming by every single day to stare at it, it was inherently theirs, it was the picture that made Hoseok want to dance and the one that made Yoongi promise they will. And they did. 

“Hey.” Yoongi acknowledges him curtly, ready to have Hoseok do that little bow and then turn around and leave like he’d done the entire day. 

“We are good.” He says but it’s almost a question when he lifts one eyebrow and his smile hesitates. 

“We are.” Yoongi states, and like most things used to avoid Hoseok’s caring and concerned eyes, he gives his full undivided attention to his task of observing the painting. Hoseok twists his mouth in a way Yoongi can’t read.

His pinky grazes with something that he can’t see so he retrieves the whole hand instead and stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans.

“We should probably talk about it.” Hoseok sighs after a couple of seconds of painfully uncomfortable silence. 

And in that way they are complete opposites. 

If Yoongi hated something was confrontation. What’s the point in stating the obvious? Hoseok and him are not friends and they will never be. They were just eachother’s lifesavers in a point of facing the unknown, Hoseok doesn’t like him, he likes Yoongi when he’s with Hoseok alone in Paris. He wouldn’t like Yoongi when Yoongi is alone, he wouldn’t like Yoongi when Yoongi is stressed or overworked.

He wouldn’t like Yoongi. Period.

Why would they want to prolong his suffering? Talking about it would only make him hit the nail with a sledgehammer deeper and deeper than it already is. 

“I don’t want to.” Yoongi says and it caughts Hoseok off guard the blatant honesty in which he says it. 

“Are you serious?” Hoseok hisses in disbelief. “Listen, I really had fun with you and I–” Yoongi doesn’t let him finish and puts his palm on the other’s chest. 

“I know how it goes,” he whispers, overly aware of the people watching them, of their friends who don’t spare them a glance. “you really enjoyed spending time with me, you think we should be friends so let’s cut the crap and start understanding that what happened yesterday was what it was: dumb. It was a dumb, foolish drunken mistake that sometimes friends make. We can laugh about it later but for now, I don’t want to talk about it.” his words hurt in his own mouth and he knows they probably are somewhat rude, but he can’t keep going. “It happens. I had sex with Namjoon on my first year of college and look at us now. Nothing.”
Hoseok’s eyes blink unevenly and unsteady and in his mouth his lips are pressed shut into a thin straight line. 

“Yup. Just what I was going to say. Completely stole the words out of my mouth right there.” Hoseok says with a grin and his gaze fixed into the horizont. “I’m sorry I tried to waste your time.” he responds almost robotically. “If you want your bags give me a heads up.”

And with that, he’s gone. 

 

“Hold up.” Seokjin says as he slaps Namjoon’s back to clear his throat where some ice cream still makes him cough. “You don’t really feel that way, don’t you?”

Namjoon tries to say something but his voice comes out wet and another coughing fit begins. 

“Who cares if I do? Don’t you think it’s ridiculous? I literally spent two days with him. It’s not a real crush, I guess I was just lonely and the power of suggestion this city has is unprecedented.” He frowns as he digs a deeper hole with his spoon. “Come the fuck on. If Hoseok and I were compatible in that way we would have already done something about it in the three years we’ve known eachother. This was just hormones and marketing. Once I get back home and things go back to normal, we are going to be okay and hey,” he shrugs. “maybe we can actually try and be friends.”

Seokjin rubs his temples, both to appease a growing brain freeze but also to try to understand Yoongi’s emotional stupidity.

 

“But you still bought the necklace.” Namjoon’s voice comes out strangled in between short and faint breaths. 

 

Yoongi holds in a big breath and his eyes go wide, his face turns red within seconds. 

“How did you know?” he asks terrified, his entire body shaking in embarrassment. Namjoon laughs and coughs a bit more. 

“Gotcha.”  he says weakly. “It was wild guess to be honest, I didn’t think it would work. But if you did, which you most likely did, it means you still have some hope.” he states and Seokjin nods. 

“I bought it for me.” he lies and he knows they know it is. 

“Actually, Namjoon’s kind of right.” he asserts. “Min Yoongi, you wouldn’t buy a suit for your own brothers wedding, you wouldn’t pay to go to your own college graduation, you wouldn’t pay to get new glasses when you couldn’t see. Hell, you wouldn’t even pay to have food at one of the world’s most renowned restaurants when you had the chance.” he lists and Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“Just say I’m cheap and go.” he groans. 

“You’re not.” Seokjin counterarguments. “You paid all the expenses for your father’s funeral when you didn’t have a single penny and your student loans were biting your ass. You paid for my car when I ran over Jungkook and the windshield broke. You paid for Namjoon’s medical fees after he broke his thumb. You spent lots of money in all your music equipment.” he states. “And your father said horrible things, I drive poorly and Namjoon broke his thumb playing Mario kart. Yoongi, you don’t spend money on yourself.” he says somberly. “You spent money on the things you care about.”
Yoongi knows where Seokjin is going but still he doesn’t want to say a word. 

“That necklace it’s not yours. It’s Hoseok’s.”
Yoongi keeps silent. 

“And you weren’t giving it to him any time sooner. You were hoping that you could give it to him in the future. You can see yourself with Hoseok somewhere down the road. You like Hoseok, a lot actually.” Namjoon adds.
A single tear rolls down his cheek and then he wipes it off, angry, frustrated.

“So what? What if I did?” he angrily curses. “I’m the idiot because I bought it after two days with him. Two fucking days. I didn’t even flinch when I paid it. I didn’t know why but it felt natural. And I hate myself for it because Hoseok probably doesn’t give a single shit about me and my fucking stupid crush.” he adds even lowder, bordering on a scream. “All I want is to fucking get this over with and let go and pretend like it didn’t happen so we go back to being strangers.”

His breathing is agitated and the world feels like closing in. 

“I just want to go back.” he whispers and he doesn’t know when it happens but Namjoon and Seokjin wrap him in a hug, patting his head, rubbing his back. 

Back, it’s time to go back.



The next day they go to the wax museum but Hoseok doesn’t show up. He shows up for breakfast –that is always mayhem with Jimin explaining Seokjin that under no circumstances will he eat frogs and Seokjin counterarguing that he wouldn’t think it twice if it were chicken or pork– but as usual Hoseok feels like a million light-years away.  They don’t even dare look at eachother and as things go in their friend group, it’s not needed to make an official statement of please do not ask .

The wax museum is boring and as Hoseok had told him, potentially nightmare fueling. Afterwards they’ll want to go to Notre Dam but that’s too much, even for him. He stays in instead, finally pursuing his original plan.

He’s already pant-less, bag of chips held in his hands and four episodes in when he realizes that it’s pointless. It doesn’t feel half as fun or as calming as it should, his mind keeps spiraling back into the epicenter of the earthquake and it all comes falling down on him. Like bricks and drywall, the small box hidden beneath his clothes in the deepest of his suitcase makes him grow insane little by little. What would he do with it? Would he wear it? He could sell it for twice the price back in Korea with a quick ad or a call with one of his aunts, but still it would feel like selling something stolen, something that wasn’t his to begin with. 

The bed feels oddly empty and cold, the mattress feels hard and the pillows don’t set well around his neck. While the drama might be good and captivating he stops understanding half of the plot. The chips are overpriced and taste like shit. 

He doesn’t have to think it very thoroughly to understand that it’s about Hoseok like everything has been since he’s arrived in this shithole of a place.

Everything has to be about him, what does Hoseok want to do, what does Hoseok want to eat, what does Hoseok feel and what he doesn’t. 

It’s exhausting, all Yoongi ever wanted was this and Hoseok came into his life like a wrecking ball and ruined that for him. 

And the worst part is that not even Hoseok’s fault but his, Yoongi fucking ruined his own vacation like the motherfucking champ he is just because he’s him. 

He’s showed himself that no matter how hard he tries, Namjoon and everyone else are right. He just Yoongi’ed everything and made it harder on himself and Hoseok. Hoseok’s vacations were probably also rained over, having to deal with moody and self hating Yoongi and his poor life choices. 

“Enough.” he whispers as he pulls his own hair and tries to not cry because heaven knows that’s the last thing he wants to do or else he can be legally proclaimed as pathetic. He decides a nice stroll is what he needs. Walking, moving doing anything else but being alone in his room to rot and make himself miserable. 

He puts on pants –a big character development– and his coat and he’s out of the door in less than a minute. Where he goes? He doesn’t know but it’s not here.

 

It’s starts raining when he’s already a solid eight blocks away because Yoongi is lucky just like that. He could give it a run and get back to the hotel to take a shower and change into nice dry clothes and sleep his sadness like he does usually, but he’s mad at himself and he decides that some rain can bring some sense back into him they way it had done their first day  when the skies opened and life was struck into his body like a lighting making an old radio sing again. 

However it doesn’t, it’s still cold as fuck and how he’s even further and he can’t really see where he is going but he’s going and that’s enough. 

And so he walks through the streets that he walked with Hoseok, near the stores they laughed and tried on sunglasses and expensive shirts they wouldn’t wear nor they could afford, the flower carts and streetlights, the raspy and faint voice of a saxophone far away. 

This kind of sulking was new and impractical –and clichè– but it’s okay because not even in sulking can Yoongi have a choice. 

He turns his pain to suffering when he does that, just reminding himself how the city looks without Hoseok, how even the rain feels like a totally different experience. 

No matter how many times he runs under the rain, nothing will ever come close to that original primal fear he associated with feeling alive. 

Nothing. 

Like that he walks and he walks for a long time. Long enough to have his phone buzzing over and over again, long enough to reach the sunset in this city. 

He stops at a seven eleven just to check his phone and make sure that Namjoon and Seokjin don’t file him as a missing person just yet. 

 

kim namjoon (10) missed calls

kim namjoon: where r u 

kim namjoon : yoongi?
kim namjoon : are you asleep or why aren’t you answering the door

kim namjoon : yoongi you shouldn’t have gone out without telling us, what if you get lost

kim namjoon: like lost lost

kim seokjin : where the shit balls cock fuck hell are you

kim seokjin: we are LOOKING for you

kim seokjin: please tell me you are okay

 

The last message he sees chills his body down to the very core of his bones.

 

kim namjoon: Hoseok’s gone too. 

 

Yoongi dials as fast as he can a number he already knows by heart. 

“What do you mean Hoseok’s gone?” Yoongi semi-yells, both from worry and because the rain is so hard he can barely hear a thing over the sound of water hitting the concrete roof. 

“You are gone too!” Namjoon screams. “Why the fuck did you leave in the middle of a storm? Do you even know where yo–” he tries to say but there’s ruffling on the other side and Seokjin intercepts him. 

“Go fucking find him.” he threatens. “I don’t fucking care if you are lost and that is raining. Both of you have no fucking business going out in the rain like this.” he says and his voice is furious. 

“If you want to justify that you do have reasons to go for a walk without telling us and having us worried sick for you under the pretense of having your heart broken, fine. I respect it.” his voice is quieter but somehow even more heated. “But just think of this. You did this to yourself.  Hoseok didn’t do anything and now he’s lost and I’m pretty sure he’s out there because of you. So if you don’t find Hoseok I will take you out with my own hands. Do you understand me?” his silky voice sounds so weird when it’s almost like a growl and Yoongi doesn’t have the time to process it when the line goes dead. 

Seokjin’s words are hurtful, but truth. Is like Yoongi’s been sleepwalking this entire time and all it takes is a mild death threat to have him snap awake. 

 

Now, a couple of things happen at that seven eleven. 

He looks at his watch and realizes how late it is, two hours left before a new day begins. 

A man behind him holding a slushy trips and falls, slushy spilling all over the white tiles of the place. 

Some guy eating a hot dog laughs at a meme. 

Yoongi realizes he’s been an asshole. 

 

While Yoongi is over observant and loves to know the way that things work just by looking and some minor explanation, he doesn’t catch the wires and web looking metal bars, the acoustic waves in the air, the McDonald’s bites; he doesn’t cath Hoseok’s vague statements and his sudden silences, the way his eye twitches and the symphony that he mumbles beneath the tower. 

He doesn’t spare a single brain cell to think that maybe what Hoseok had to say to him wasn’t what he thought he would, that Hoseok wasn’t this book concept he could understand just by seeing it and making assumptions. 

He should have listened. 

Out of all the things he did he didn’t listen. 

He took Hoseok up and down, left to right just so he could see the city, he’d bought a necklace, he’d danced with him to no music, he’d kissed him and touched him but the one thing he didn’t do and the one thing that mattered he didn’t. 

 

When he storms out of the seven eleven the man is getting another cup, the guy has finished his hotdog and the primal fear has returned. He starts running and running and it feels like when he did it with Hoseok’s hand on his and their laughter getting lost in the mist. 

He knows where he is going and if his suspicions and Seokjin’s are right, he knows he will find him. 

 


 

When he arrives, the place is completely empty except for a couple of cops and some tourists in their raincoats and umbrellas.

No Hoseok. 

It’s understandable, it had been a bit of a reach to assume that Hoseok would be there, afterall, the rain was so forceful and cold that he couldn’t even see if he was headed in the right direction until the massive tower lights shone in the midst of the fog. 

So he’s there, standing like an idiot. Of all the romcom tropes he and Hoseok had fallen into, the only one he actually wanted to be a part of, is the least effective. 

Of course Hoseok wouldn’t be here, standing under the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the downpour, only Yoongi, a recently declared lovesick sap would do something as idiotic as that. Instead, Hoseok could be actually lost with no way to go back. And it all had been Yoongi’s fault because his fears and his ego were so big he couldn’t give Hoseok a minute to speak, to set the things clear so both of them understood what had happened. 

“Fuck you.” He says to the tower but it’s mostly for him. “Fuck you so much because you tricked me. You fooled me. I thought I could be smarter than you but you won.” He screams and hopes that the cops near him don’t think he’s crazy or drunk. “Fuck you because I wanted to prove you wrong so bad that I ended up falling in your trap.” he pants as the anger leaves his body in the shape of a growl. “And now I’m here. I willingly part take in this madness because I couldn’t outsmart you. You win. Now I’m an idiot standing at your feet with my heart broken while he’s out there.” his panting turns into bawling soon, fear and worry mixing into an ugly feeling because all he wants is to even know where Hoseok is. 

 

He doesn’t even want to apologize or have Hoseok tell him how much of an idiot he is. And the rain is too cold and the fog is too dense and he hates that he didn’t find him. Because even if Hoseok wasn’t lost all he wants is to hold him and hear him laugh his hearty dancing with no music and running under the rain laugh that he likes so much and talk about stupid things and the point of existence, eating pizza and making fun of couples he secretly envies. 

He just wants to see Hoseok now more than ever and he would stay there, the cold water penetrating all his layers of clothing, the freezing air biting into his bones and his heart thumping like a marching band. 

“What if he’s lost?” he asks to the tower. “It’s all my fault. Maybe he’s out there scared and cold and I’m here hoping he shows up like my charming prince in silver armor like a total idiot when in reality I should go find him not because of my stupid crush but because he’s my friend and he makes me so happy.” he whispers, he knows the tower won’t listen an in the end, it’s only him to blame. 

Despite Yoongi’s sudden snap and the inherent dread that comes when he doesn’t see Hoseok, the rain doesn’t stop and neither does he. He stays there for a couple of seconds, taking in everything that still doesn’t feel quite real, the mutters in a foreign language, the architecture he’s only come to see in books, the way his shoes are filled to the brim with water and how his tears flow just like the waterdrops from the sky. 

 

After that Yoongi takes a deep breath, he turns and when he’s about to take up the first sprint, he looks up and a figure looks at him. Static, unmoving, the figure looks like a shadow under the downpour and it feels like its judging Yoongi –or rob him, but at this point it would be the least of his problems–, it approaches. 

With every step Yoongi can make it out better and as he recognizes it, it doesn’t take much before he finds himself running towards it, running like it’s the only thing he knows, like if he doesn’t the world would cease to exist. 

 

When their bodys crash together and Yoongi wraps Hoseok in a tight hug he doesn’t want to let go, not even when his breathing is shaky and unsteady, not when he realizes Hoseok is still as silent and stoic as he’d left him in the museum but his arms still press against the small of Yoongi’s back and his nose buries deep into his shoulder. 

“Why are you here?” Yoongi cries as he cups the sides of Hoseok’s face and looks at him in the eye, terror and pain finally leaving his body. “You could have got hurt I was so worried!” he all but screams in Hoseok’s face and the other frowns. 

“Why do you care?” he says angrily but doesn’t let go of Yoongi, not for a single second. “I know you told me you didn’t want to talk, but I am going to talk.” he orders and escapes from the embrace. “You are an asshole.” he states and while Yoongi agrees it still has him dumbfounded. 

 

“I don’t care if you thought it was weird and dumb and a stupid foolish mistake.” his words echo in the voice of Yoongi’s venom spit back on the Louvre. “But I like you. I liked you from the moment that we met and then this stupid trip just proved me that I have always liked you. There, I said it.” he yells over the deafening sound of the water. “You did this things for me I didn’t ask you to do but you did them wholeheartedly and that messed with my head- The reason I didn’t want to be alone with you was because I was afraid I would fall in too deep and that I couldn’t turn back. And then you kissed me!” he gasps and runs his hands through the soaking wet hair. “You kissed me! The world made no sense and I thought that maybe I had a chance because you kissed me. You kissed me and everything turned into a joke. You hurt me. You told me it had all been a mistake and I respect that you don’t feel the same way b–”

 

When they kiss it all goes silent. The rain, the angry voices in their heads, the sound of their agitated hearts. It’s  like the world stops around them and all there exists and has ever existed is them. 

Yoongi presses Hoseok’s face against hiss and their lips join almost out of muscular memory, like they’ve been here before, like they’ve kissed a million times. 

They kiss and Yoongi feels like the biggest idiot in the world because he missed it all, he missed everything that could have made everything make sense.

I want you. 

Those words, how could he get so pass that? Hoseok threw it all so Yoongi could catch it but it all went over his head. 

It doesn’t matter in the end because they are here, and they are kissing and Yoongi finally knows how it works, the smoke and mirrors fall and he can actually see the wizard, Yoongi understands. 

Their lips feel not hungry for lust like they were the night of the tower, but instead it’s desperate, afraid that it would be the last one and taking as much as possible as if they didn’t want to forget. 

Yoongi wants to remember Hoseok’s lips, the heartshaped smile that creeps in between every move, his hands on his back, the way their noses rub together, Hoseok’s heartbeat against him. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi says and under the murmur of the showers it’s almost a whisper, he breaks the kiss, hands still pressed against Hoseok’s cheek, his eyes just for Hoseok and Hoseok only. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared because I realized how wonderful and beautiful you are. I was scared because I didn’t want to be the idiot who fell for you in such a short amount of time.” he laughs a bit and Hoseok is too taken aback to react. “But Hoseok, you have so much to give and you gave it to me so fast I had no choice.” he says and lets the tears run freely because he knows Hoseok can’t see them anyway. “It felt as natural as waking up or breathing. That’s how stupid I am.”
Hoseok laughs and the laugh turns quickly into a whimper, his eyes reddening and his chests shaking with an unsteady breath. 

“You’re so dumb.”

Yoongi wraps him tighter and places his head in Hoseok’s shoulder. 

“We are.”




 

When Yoongi retells the story of how he fell in love with Hoseok he likes to skip the part that followed after they kissed and cried under the Eiffel tower for several reasons number one being he couldn’t dare having people know that Seokjin has an impressively powerful fist. 

 

“What the fuck was that for?” Yoongi cries as he holds his nose which seconds later starts bleeding. Namjoon holds Seokjin back by the arms while Jimin and Jungkook press back his shoulders. 

“Is this how I looked?” Jimin whispers and Jungkook shakes his head. “Nah babe, you were ten times scarier and ten times hotter.” the other replies. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Yoongi calls for Hoseok but the other shrugs. 

“Aye, lowkey you kinda had it coming.”
Yoongi holds on to his nose, rain water and blood mixing in his philtrum.

Seokjin calms down, takes a long furious breath into his mouth and lets it out of his nose in an exponentially less enraged one. He puts his hands together and closes his eyes, a small smile creeps from his face. 

“Now that I’ve punched you,” he whispers and then snaps his eyes back open. “Are you guys okay?”

They both nod even if they are still dripping water and shivering and Yoongi’s nose is bleeding they are okay, better than they have ever been. 

“Good.” Seokjin says as he sighs and crouches down to help Yoongi back on his feet.

 

When they go back to Korea, Hoseok and Yoongi don’t go back to normal. They instead alter their normal, making time in between their hectic schedules to hang out, go to museums –Yoongi says it’s because they need to cultivate themselves and enjoy all the knowledge museum have to offer but really it’s because he loves watching Hoseok looking at things he’s never looked at before with that little surprised face and the way his body craves to feel the universe around him.– , they stay in, they go out. Some nights they dance, some nights they watch horror movies –that Hoseok is still not fond of. Yoongi makes jokes and Hoseok laughs and the other way around.
When they are together the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months and in the end it doesn’t feel like it does. After they go over the two month mark Yoongi kisses Hoseok in the same way and intensity as he did that night under the Eiffel tower. On the way, he realizes that whether he’d spent two days or an eternity with him, it didn’t matter. 

Another thing that they discover is that they’ll never truly understand the other and that is the most fun part. Yoongi will come to know things about Hoseok almost everyday. 

“What do you mean you haven’t watched Naruto?” Yoongi reprimands one evening when they stay in and he shows Hoseok a meme he doesn’t understand. 

“I also have not seen a single starwars movie.” he says almost challenging Yoongi. The other widens his eyes and his jaw goes slack. 

“So everytime I said ‘I’m your father’, you didn’t get it?” He asks worriedly and Hoseok laughs sheepishly. “I legit thought you had a daddy kink.”

It happens with Hoseok too, when he visits Yoongi’s studio for the first time.

“That’s a lot of plants.” He says when he enters through the door, a cold brew americano and a caramel macchiato in a starbucks cardboard cup holder.  

It is. The room is filled with various types in different pots, a small flytrap sitting the closest to Yoongi who removes half of his earphones when he notices Hoseok inside. 

“Too many?” he asks concerned and Hoseok shakes his head. “Just enough.” he chuckles and kisses his forehead tenderly. 

 

So on, they find themselves learning something new everyday, they sit together almost exclusively at the hang outs and they laugh till everything hurts. 

“It’s so weird seeing Hobi hyung sitting next to Yoongi hyung,” Jimin whispers on one occasion. “Like seeing the ninja turtles with scooby doo. I know it’s cool but crossovers are always strange.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, them dating is like the biggest plot twist ever.” he says to Taehyung and caresses his hand under the table. Jimin nods. “Yeah, zero context queues.” Taehyung replies as he takes Jimin’s hand on his. “But I’m happy for them, they look so happy.” 

Jimin scrunches his nose. “Happier than us?” he whispers and makes sure no one sees his nose brushing against Taehyung’s. 

“Nah, we’re like ten times hotter.” Jungkook says as he pecks Taehyung’s shoulder. 

Namjoon sees them and rolls his eyes. 

“So now we’re that group of friends where everyone is domestic and coupley. Thanks hyung.” He nags at Yoongi but the other one puffes his chest as a sign of self defense. “Why me?” he asks offended. “I didn’t do anything.”

Hoseok laughs, that hearty I love you laugh that is the first thing Yoongi hears in the morning and the last thing when he wakes up. “You did kinda kiss me first.” he jokes and pokes at Yoongi’s side, the other frowns but there’s a happy glint in his pupils. 

“Oh my god this is so sappy, we need more soju and some Ariana Grande.” Seokjin grunts as he stuffs his face with pork belly. 

 

But the best thing that they discover along the way is that they are dangerously too similar. It’s not a surprise, they sometimes say the same thing at the exact same time, one will burst out singing –okay, it’s Yoongi mostly– whatever song is trapped on the other’s head.

“Stop singing the milk commercial song, I’m this close to making a choreo just so I can tire it out and stop thinking about it.” Hoseok would say. 

However, they realise ten months after their trip to Paris. They are having dinner at Hoseok’s to celebrate the milestone. Hoseok cooked, Yoongi bought some wine, asked Namjoon and Seokjin to not call unless it’s a life or death situation –so it’s kind of inconvenient when Namjoon knocks over a vase and get’s a massive slit in his palm, but Seokjin refuses to call Yoongi even when they are on the ER and Namjoon is getting stitches. 

“So, it’s been ten months.” Yoongi mutters as he pops open the bottle and Hoseok almost drops their food when the sound startles him. 

“Yes.” he laughs when he sets the bowl on the kitchenette. “Ten whole ass months. We could have had a kid in that time.” he says astonished by the realization. “Or two life cycles of fish.” Yoongi huffs and covers his eyes. 

“Remind me why we are dating.” he sighs. “Because I’m dumb.” Hoseok states proudly. “And you’re dumber.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Fair enough.”

They plate the food and the drink wine, it’s better than the first time they had dinner together with actual affordable and delicious food and a common ground in which they stand. They hold eachother’s hands now like it’s a second nature, they kiss, and they laugh and everything makes sense. 

And following the tradition they end up tipsy and making out in the couch, Hoseok underneath Yoongi and their lips finding eachother hundreds of times like they’ve memorized the way by heart. They could stay like that forever, with Hoseok’s hand inside Yoongi’s shirt and Yoongi’s face nested in Hoseok’s neck but there is something left to say. 

“Seok.” he gasps inside Hoseok’s mouth and the other opens his eyes slowly. “What’s wrong?”

Yoongi pecks his lips one last time and gets off his lap. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been meaning to give you.” he states nervously, and why is he so nervous? “I know we said no gifts but–” 

Hoseok props his elbows and rests on them as he sees Yoongi scrambling through his backpack, and he hopes it’s not what he thinks it is. 

“Yoongi, I–” he starts but before he knows it, Yoongi already has the black box in his hand and he sits right next to him in the couch. 

He opens it and inside, the necklace shines bright, silver chain and 0.1 carat diamond smiling at him.

“I bought when we were in Paris. I didn’t know why but I did it. I was hoping to give it to you someday but I wanted it to be special.” here it comes, he’s about to say it. “Hoseok I lo–”

“I love you too.” Hoseok says, his eyes widened and his mouth open in surprise. “And I hate you so much.”
Yoongi is taken aback.

“What?”

Hoseok closes his eyes, trying his best not to wail like a child, he stands up and goes inside his room, where he stays for a couple of seconds. 

Why did he react like that? Was it weird that he got it so long ago? What if Hoseok realized how weird Yoongi is and he is about to dump him? Also, it takes Yoongi a few minutes to register Hoseok’s I love you . Hoseok loves him too? There’s too much to process but he doesn’t get much time because Hoseok enters the room again and he sees it. 

And he hates Hoseok too. 

It’s the exact same black box.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Yoongi says and his body slips from the couch to the floor, Hoseok joining them. They are now cross legged in Hoseok’s living room, looking straight at eachother, dumbfounded because out of all the things the could gift, they did this. 

“When did you buy it?” Yoongi asks, still in utter disbelief. 

“While you were sleeping. I bought donuts on the way.” he laughs and wipes his tears. “I was going to give it to you later, but you always have to get your own way, don’t you?” he smacks Yoongi’s arm playfully but still, he starts to sob. 

Yoongi is quick to follow. 

“You’re such an idiot.” he chuckles in between sobs. “I love you.”
“No,” Hoseok says and puts boxes aside. “We’re idiots.” he says and proceeds to wrap Yoongi in a hug. 

And then –while they kiss, many months later, and the diamonds gleam in their own boxes–they are not so different anymore.