Work Text:
It’s storming in Seoul, as expected for the beginnings of winter, but Hoseok can’t bring himself to mind. He figures it might help set the mood, the lightning in the sky likened to the cracks in his heart…or something like that.
Admittedly, he’s not very good at this shit. The whole using the dredges of heartbreak and profound rage to fuel your art thing.
And it’s not for lack of trying, either. Hoseok has been sitting in his studio every day for the past week trying to come up with the start of something–anything, that he could eventually release, but it’s just not coming together.
It’s not like he doesn’t have experience in writing lyrics, he doesn’t write every song he releases but he contributes to almost all of them and he’s good at it. He isn’t sure why it’s different this time.
A small voice at the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Taehyung tells him that maybe he needs more time to heal before he jumps into the whole diss-track thing.
Hoseok stubbornly disagrees.
Though speaking of—
“Tae, your word is fire. Hit me.”
Taehyung tilts his head in thought. “Hmm, let’s see. Fire–Fire pit! Fire pit at my twelfth birthday party…smores. I watch Heesung share smores with another guy. Heesung was my crush. I liked him. Now I’m heartbroken and there’s a fire pit and there’s smores...”
Hoseok nods, a hand hovering over his keyboard, watching him expectantly.
Taehyung frowns. “That’s all I got.”
Hoseok throws his hands up in defeat, dropping his mouse onto the desk in the process, leaving it to clatter down loudly. He leans back in his chair with a groan, his small studio upside down for a few seconds before he hauls himself back up, dark hair falling into his eyes. He points an accusing finger at Taehyung, “This is fucking impossible.”
Taehyung grins, shifting on the couch so his legs are drawn to his chest. “It doesn’t have to be. Why don’t you just ask someone for help?”
Hoseok gestures to Taehyung’s seated form. “Are you not my help?”
“I don’t know, am I?” Taehyung laughs. “You haven’t made any progress since last week, hyung. I don’t think I’m helping.”
Hoseok sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. You suck.”
“Hey!”
“Hey!” Hoseok repeats with a smile and spins in his chair once. “Hmm. Should I ask someone at the label?”
Taehyung furrows his brow. “Maybe? Or, maybe you need something different. Like…like–oh!” He grabs his phone from his jeans pocket and begins to tap at the screen with force.
“Are you taking pictures of me?” Hoseok whines and then he tilts his head, relaxing his face into something candidly appealing. “At least get my good side.”
Taehyung blinks up at him and laughs. “What? Ew stop doing that, no! Look– ” and he shoves the phone under Hoseok’s nose, waving it around a little.
“Keep still you brat I can’t see the screen,” Hoseok scolds, grabbing the phone and holding it still. He frowns.
It’s the wikipedia page of a rapper under the name Agust D. The name rings familiar, Hoseok is pretty sure they’ve been neck to neck on the charts before.
“Agust D?”
Taehyung nods eagerly. “If you’re looking to write a diss-track he’s your pearl. I mean, he’s fucking brutal.”
Hoseok’s interest spikes substantially. “He writes diss tracks?”
“Oh yeah,” Taehyung nods. “His debut track was this insane diss on his sister’s ex. He dropped it during his first year of college, produced it on some back door website. It’s vicious.”
Hoseok arches a brow. “Colour me impressed. I wanna hear this.”
Taehyung taps at his phone and pulls up the track and the beginnings of a low, quick beat fills the space. Hoseok listens and he is impressed. Agust D is clearly skilled and passionate and Hoseok finds it weirdly refreshing. The words roll off his tongue in a low drone, a mix of fury and a vague air of smugness.
“Ok, I’m convinced,” Hoseok admits easily, tilting his head in thought. “How do I contact him?”
Taehyung grins.
-
Getting Agust D’s contact information had been easy enough. Hoseok’s record executive was extremely keen on the idea and his PR manager had nothing but praise for it. Between the two of them they had contacted Agust D’s label to put things into motion. Hoseok had asked if he could contact Agust D privately after that and they had forwarded him everything without argument. Usually, Hoseok would let them handle any potential collaborations without much inference, but…this track is different–it’s personal. He wants to be the one to call the shots here.
He’s sort of oddly nervous to make the call. After his initial conversation with Taehyung, Hoseok had gone a little overboard on research. Reading countless articles, finding pictures and a pitifully sparse number of interviews.
And then, Hoseok had listened to his work.
Agust D is good, really fucking good. And it’s sort of intimidating. Hoseok has a million questions bouncing around in his mind about this guy, the most troubling being the potential of him being a massive dick. He only has a diss track and a mixtape to date, but the lyrics throughout the two are brutal and remorseless. Hoseok thinks that surely Agust D must be an asshole on some level to tear into people without shame. Not to mention his attitude towards the press…
It’s just–a lot. Hoseok doesn’t like unkind people, and his ex is a cruel, continuous reminder of that.
Still, Hoseok needs this and Agust D is his last and frankly best option. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls up his contact information, calling before he can change his mind and switching it to speaker. His heart is pounding in his chest as it rings.
“You’ve reached Genius Lab.”
“Hey, uh…” Hoseok very abruptly realises he hasn’t thought through what he plans on saying, too caught up in the idea of it all. “Hi. Sorry…Hi.”
Nailed it.
“Cut the crap. Who is this?” Agust D demands in a tone that is snarky, it’s hostile.
Hoseok’s shackles raise immediately. He already doesn’t like this guy. He swallows, “Oh, sorry? Uh, I’m Hoseok or–I guess, J-hope? From Hybe. My management has been in contact with yours regarding a collaboration.”
“Ahh,” he says and it’s on an exhale. There are background sounds of him shifting. “Jung Hoseok, of course. Sorry for the attitude, I assumed you were an invasive fan, because of the private number.”
Hoseok breathes a surprised laugh. That, at least, is a relief. He still feels wary, though. “Oh! I’m sorry.”
Yoongi hums, “You apologise a lot.”
Hoseok glares at his phone like Yoongi might see it. The accusation isn’t necessarily wrong, but this is their first conversation. Hoseok could easily make a comment about how this guy has subpar levels of amiability, but Hoseok isn’t a massive dick. Agust D is observant though, Hoseok will give him that.
“I guess so?” He replies, strained. There is a long pause and it’s awkward. Hoseok winces and changes track, “So stalker fans, right? They’re pretty exhausting.”
“You’re telling me,” Agust D agrees. He hums, “We can meet on Thursday about the collab if you want? You can come to my place.”
Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, he didn’t realise it would be that easy. He was honestly under the impression that he’d have to sell the concept a little, try to persuade him, but…
“Oh. Wow, ok.”
“Too much?”
He curses his minor brain malfunction and hurries to rectify whatever damage he just caused. “No, sorry! Not at all. Just surprised–good surprised. Thursday is perfect.”
“Great. Thursday it is,” he confirms. “I’ll have my address sent over. See you then, Hoseok.”
“See you then,” Hoseok parrots, a little dazed and floaty and very, very confused.
A clap of thunder breaks the silence as the skies storm on and Hoseok watches his phone screen dim with something akin to hope flickering to life in his chest.
-
“But the orange coat compliments his complexion.”
“But it’s orange… ”
“Orange is in right now!”
“You can’t just decide when things are in!”
“Well if I don't, who will?”
Hoseok watches Jin and Taehyung bicker from his position on the bed and rubs at his temples through a yawn. His clothes are haphazardly splayed out across the hardwood, a messy trail of them leading from his closet and he takes a dedicated second to mourn the days of a locked door.
“What do you think, hyung?” Taehyung asks, waving around the coat he’s holding. Jin shoots it a distasteful side eye.
“I think you’re both unbearable,” Hoseok says solemnly, then tilts his head. “Orange is my favourite colour…”
“Ha!” Taehyung cheers at the same time Jin dry-retches so hard Hoseok grimaces.
“But seriously, why does the jacket matter? It’s not a date, or–I don’t know, the met gala . I’m just going to his studio.”
“Yeah but that guy fucks,” Taehyung shrugs.
Hoseok blinks. “What?”
Jin grins. “He means Yoongi is totally hot, which he is.”
“Yoongi?” Hoseok repeats. “Who is Yoongi?”
Jin frowns. “Are you intentionally acting dense?” He and Taehyung make worried eye contact and Jin scrubs a hand over his face, “Oh no…this isn’t one of your stand-up comedy things again is it? When we said Idol life suited you better we meant it, seriously–”
“No, no,” Hoseok interrupts, “Just. Yoongi?”
Taehyung blinks at him like he’s a particularly slow child. “Agust D AKA Yoongi? The rapper you’re meeting today? The one who’s going to write a track on your ex? The same ex who spread–”
“Okay, okay, alright,” Hoseok cuts in quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “I didn’t know he was called Yoongi, I didn’t see his legal name on his wikipedia. And even if he does totally fuck, we’re strictly business partners. So who cares?”
“Boooooring,” Taehyung groans, face-planting into Jin’s shoulder. He rises again with a pout, “Seriously, you’ve been so tense and mopey since the breakup. You need to get laid.”
Jin nods. “Don’t you wanna have fun?”
“You guys are nuts,” Hoseok laughs. “I don’t even know the guy, he could be a massive asshole, we don’t even know if he’s gay!”
Jin and Taehyung regard him with the same blank expression. Hoseok throws his hands up in defeat.
“Ok so apparently you do know he’s gay. Wanna tell me his social security whilst you’re at it, Tae? Hey, Jin, when was the last time he washed his ass?”
Taehyung laughs and Jin rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “Point made,” Jin accepts. “We’ll back off.”
“Thank you,” Hoseok says sincerely. “Besides, you know I can’t risk casual hookups. I mean, an actual relationship was apparently a risk enough. Look where it got me.”
“Hey,” Jin says gently, walking over to the bed and shuffling next to Hoseok to place a hand on his shoulder. “None of that was your fault.”
Taehyung nods and he follows Jin, dropping the jacket onto the bed to wrap Hoseok in a one armed hug. “He was a dick. There’s no way you could have predicted him going behind your back, hyung.”
Hoseok smiles and shifts slightly to wrap his arms around them both. “I love you guys.”
“And we love you,” Jin sings, pressing an offensively sloppy kiss to Hoseok’s cheek. “Now let’s get this hideous coat on you so you can go and have not-sex with Agust D.”
-
It is heavily snowing by the time Hoseok pulls into the parking garage.
Doubt had sung through his veins as the directions on his GPS drove him further and further out of the city, the cars rapidly decreasing and the buildings seemingly more and more sparse. For a horrible second Hoseok had suspected this was all a part of some elaborate trick to mess with him, to make him the target of embarrassment—before he quickly dismissed the thought.
As it is, Yoongi lives on the outskirts of the city, a good thirty minute drive from Hoseok’s own apartment. If he is honest, he never took Yoongi for the type to enjoy seclusion. Hoseok himself thrives on the bustle of the city, on the company of his friends, on last minute get-togethers and meeting new faces. He can’t imagine a world without it, he certainly doesn’t want to try.
He is full-body shivering as he makes the short walk from the parking garage to the entranceway, boots crunching in the fresh snow. Buzzing the bell for Yoongi’s apartment number, he turns at the sound of a giggling child and watches her antics with a half smile as she builds a sad looking snowman in the small front-garden. A few minutes pass, maybe longer. Hoseok is freezing and Yoongi hasn’t given any indication he is even aware of Hoseok’s presence, which is… weird. He chews his bottom lip for a few seconds, weighing his options, before decisively pulling his phone from his pocket and typing out a short text.
Hoseok | 3:07 p.m
Hi. I’m outside?
A few seconds pass and then three bubbles appear at the bottom of the screen to indicate Yoongi is typing. Hoseok grits his teeth, shifting his weight from each foot as he waits.
Yoongi | 3:07 p.m
shit im so sorry didn’t hear the bell from my studio. buzzing u up now.
Hoseok frowns slightly at the message, eyes lingering on the apology. He hadn’t been expecting one, had maybe even expected something a little rude. He shakes it off, hurrying into the building and wiping his damp shoes on the coarse mat. There’s a short wait for the elevator before he is inside and pressing the button for the top floor. Although the apartment complex is smaller than Hoseok had expected, the elevator is almost ornate; the doors are a sleek matte black and the interior is a darkened oak.
The elevator reaches Yoongi’s level and the doors slide open into a short hallway. The floor is a creamy, glazed marble and large potted-plants sit outside of each door. Hoseok swallows and knocks on Yoongi’s twice. After a few seconds, the door swings open and Hoseok startles. He looks the guy up and down and stammers, “Uh…Yoongi?”
“The one and only,” Yoongi says with a lopsided smile.
Hoseok’s eyes widen.
At face value, Yoongi is…short. He is shorter than Hoseok is, much smaller than he had anticipated. His expression is devoid of any arrogance and much unlike the pictures Hoseok saw online; his lips are curled into something friendlier. A pale yellow, knitted sweater bunches on his frame, long enough that it hangs over his hands and reaches the ripped knees of his jeans. His hair is dyed a cotton-candy pink, a startling contrast to the paparazzi shots featuring a head of platinum blonde, and it hangs over his eyes slightly, in need of cutting.
He doesn’t look the slightest bit menacing or threatening, he looks closer to soft–to sweet and of all the things Hoseok had imagined, he most certainly had not been expecting this.
“Oh,” Hoseok says eloquently and he then realises that he’s staring, probably. Has been for a minute now. He mentally curses himself for being so fucking awkward. “Sorry. Hi. Hello! It’s great to meet you.”
Yoongi arches an eyebrow, looking amused. “And you. Please, come in,” he says, leading the way. He gestures to a small cloak room, “You can put your stuff in here.”
Hoseok dutifully follows and closes the door behind him, toeing his shoes off and hanging his coat on the rack. His eyes dart around the apartment and it’s cozy; there’s an electric fire crackling in the sitting-room opposite a large, navy couch that is drowning in all sorts of cushions. In the hall there is a heavily decorated christmas tree wound in warm lights, numerous palletable art pieces are mounted to the grey walls, and suspiciously, the air smells faintly of tangerines.
“Beautiful place,” Hoseok comments.
“Ah, thank you,” Yoongi accepts, shaking his head. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got coffee, or–” he opens a cupboard and squints at it’s contents. His expression is sort of offensively cute. On an objective level. The same way you would describe a small animal or child—Hoseok may not be helping his case.
“Or hot cocoa? Got a couple sodas in the fridge, too.”
Hoseok smiles. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
Yoongi nods and he pulls out a large mug, starting up the coffee machine. He turns back to face Hoseok, leaning against the counter with his arms folded and his eyes assessing. “So…” he starts, “Your ex?”
Hoseok laughs at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “Straight in, huh? I guess they don’t call you cutthroat for nothing.”
Yoongi shrugs, expression neutral. “I guess.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok allows. “My ex.”
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Yoongi says. Hoseok doesn’t answer right away. The coffee machine beeps in the silence and Yoongi turns back to face the counter, stirring it for a few seconds before handing Hoseok the mug. Hoseok thanks him, immediately grateful for the way it warms his numb hands.
“We might need to sit down for that,” Hoseok eventually admits. “It’s a long story.”
Yoongi nods. “Sure, let’s go to the studio, it’s just through here.”
Hoseok follows him through a short corridor that ends with the door to Yoongi’s studio. He bites back a laugh at the crude welcome mat at their feet.
The studio is an incredible space; two huge monitors stacked on a desk surrounded by sleek speakers and an elaborate mixing board laid out in front of that. Various quality mics and instruments are dotted across the room and thick soundproofing lines the walls.
Hoseok whistles and Yoongi chuckles. “It’s my pride and joy,” he admits, smiling in a way that pulls at his cheeks and shows his gums. Hoseok has to blink to make sure he’s not seeing things.
They each take a seat and Hoseok places his mug on the small coffee table beside him. He folds his hands neatly on his lap and Yoongi smiles a little and mirrors him. They break out into quiet, comfortable laughter.
“It feels weird having to talk about this,” Hoseok admits. Takes a sip of his drink.
“Bad weird?” Yoongi asks and Hoseok shakes his head.
“I’ve just never told anyone the entire story before, Jin and Taehyung–even the media were there to watch it all unfold, so…”
“Jin and Taehyung are your friends?” Yoongi guesses.
“Yeah, I grew up with Taehyung, our moms went to school together,” Hoseok smiles. “And Jin–uh, Kim Seokjin?” Yoongi’s face lights up with recognition.
“He was in your music video. Feather Sky.”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “He has also been the lead in two dramas this year alone, but yeah. You watched my music video?”
Yoongi smiles a little sheepish and his ears are suspiciously pink. Hoseok is again reminded that this is the same guy who writes disses like it’s a second language.
“I might have...” he starts and then he facepalms, literally facepalms. “It’s constantly on the radio. I needed to scratch the itch.”
Hoseok grins and waves a dismissive hand. “Hey, no judgement here. Your track Daehyun was enough to convince me to contact you.”
Yoongi’s smile falters. “Ah, Daehyun . Even the mention of it embarrasses me.”
Hoseok frowns, tilting his head. “Embarrasses? It’s incredible.”
Yoongi shrugs. “I was very young and very angry. Angry at the world, at myself and when my older sister came to me about her ex I sort of…snapped. I used him as a target to project everything I was feeling.”
Hoseok nods carefully. “I see…I didn’t realise it was like that.” He smiles. “I’m sorry.”
Yoongi shakes his head with a small smile of his own. “Ah, don’t worry. It’s in the past. Six years.”
“Wait, six years?” Hoseok asks and he does the mental math. “So you’re older than me, hyungie?”
The tips of Yoongi’s ears flush even pinker than before. “Uh yes,” Yoongi says swiftly, tapping his fingers against the table. “We lost track I think. Your ex?”
Hoseok smiles. “My ex.” He rubs at the space between his brows. “I’m sorry–shit. Where do I even start?”
“The beginning is usually a good place,” Yoongi suggests helpfully. “But if you want to start at the halfway point, I can play catch up.”
Hoseok laughs quietly and he takes a long sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Well, I met Kyong in college, total cliché. We were both music students and crushing, I guess. Nothing happened between us until we worked on a joint assignment and after we presented, he asked me on a date. He was cute, older–and I had never been out with anyone before then.”
Hoseok swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. The gentle touch of Yoongi’s fingers on his forearm causes him to jump slightly and he. opens his eyes again. There is thinly veiled concern written on Yoongi’s face.
“Ok?” Yoongi murmurs.
“Sorry. Yeah,” Hoseok breathes. “Yeah.”
He swallows again. “We went on that date, and several more after that. I was inexperienced but he never pushed me, he made me feel comfortable, safe…” Hoseok exhales with a shuddering breath. Yoongi’s fingers press down on his arm for a few grounding seconds. “He graduated two years before I did, but he still lived close by, so nothing really changed. That was, until he started struggling to find work.”
Recognition clicks into place on Yoongi’s face, the same expression Hoseok has seen on countless faces before. It makes him feel pathetic– stupid, that so many people were able to see it coming, that he was so blind to it.
“I got signed before I graduated. Red Mind was just a demo, some hopeful track, but HYBE loved it.”
Yoongi nods in understanding. “Kyong didn’t take it well?”
Hoseok laughs bitterly. “He acted like he did, and I believed him. He bought me champagne, called me his star . I was twenty-one and I thought I had the world in my palm…a devoted boyfriend, a record deal, great friends. I was so naive.”
“You were not naive,” Yoongi interjects. “Betrayal is not something we anticipate from those we love.”
Hoseok swallows and then nods. “Yeah…yeah, I really didn’t see it coming. It all sort of snowballed; my first album was a success and I had a slowly growing fan-base, I graduated and finally moved into a nice place. But then…things started to leak to the press–personal information about my father, about my sister, about the accident they were in. Things I had only told a number of people.”
“He sold your trauma,” Yoongi realises, eyes narrowing angrily.
Distantly, Hoseok thinks it is the first time he has actually seen Yoongi look like the menacing guy everyone claims he is. Distantly, a part of Hoseok is surprised that he almost feels comforted by it.
“He did,” Hoseok confirms. “I didn’t realise until way later, I thought it was someone else. I fired my assistant and… Taehyung and I had a huge fight.”
“You thought it was him?” Yoongi asks.
Hoseok bites his lip. “I suspected him,” he admits. “I have always told him everything, and he was present for the accident. He got mad, understandably, and told me that instead of accusing my friends, maybe I should look at who’s right under my nose.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees. “It stung, but it was honestly my wake up call. It planted the seeds of doubt and I was suspicious of everything after that. Everytime Kyong left the house I had to know where he was going, who he was seeing, and how long he would be gone. I’d demand to go through his phone–I even trailed him once.”
Hoseok swallows again, hard. This is his least favourite part of the story, the framework for his sleepless nights and guilty nature.
Yoongi must pick up on this, because he softly suggests, “We can stop here?”
Hoseok shakes his head. “He called me crazy, said I was victimising myself–paranoid. That I had everything I could ever want, that I was self-obsessed. And…I believed him. I thought I was insane, I felt so guilty,” Hoseok says, exhaling for a few seconds. “Until I caught him.”
“How did you do it?”
“I got home early one evening. I usually pulled all-night stints at the studio, but I missed Kyong, I felt bad for neglecting our time. Ha. There was a reporter, in our home, on our couch. I so badly wanted it to be a misunderstanding, but it was an impossible hope. He was handing over pictures of me and my father, of me and my deceased father.”
“What a fucking sicko,” Yoongi mutters. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Did you burst in there?”
Hoseok shakes his head. “I took a video, a few photos and then I crept back out. Drove straight to Taehyung’s house, knocked on the door in tears and blurted out everything right there on the doorstep.”
“Taehyung helped?”
“I don’t know what I would have done without him,” Hoseok says gravely. “Shit hit the fan, everything hit the press. I had the option to sue, but Kyong had next to nothing, and honestly the public humiliation he received was reward enough. We broke up, he moved out and I haven’t heard from him since. A year later, and…well,” Hoseok gestures to their surroundings, “Here I am.”
“Here you are,” Yoongi agrees, a little awed. He stretches his hands out above his head and then relaxes, tilting his head to the side. “Hey, so, this Kyong guy. Can he fight?”
Hoseok startles into abrupt laughter at the question, hard enough that his eyes crinkle at the corners. The casual reaction floods him with relief, glad that Yoongi doesn’t suddenly pity him, glad that Yoongi doesn’t see him as helpless. Yoongi watches him amused, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips. “He has around half a foot on you,” Hoseok informs.
Yoongi sighs, defeated. “Pity. I would love to break that guy with my fists.”
Hoseok snorts. “The more I learn about you the more I think you couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Yoongi smirks. “You are amongst the minority with that one. Sure, I don’t hurt defenseless insects. Mean ex-boyfriends, however...”
Hoseok laughs again, shaking his head. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour.”
Yoongi’s expression sobers slightly and he nods. “No,” he says seriously, “You don’t.”
Hoseok feels heat surge to his cheeks and he coughs awkwardly, shifting in the chair. He adjusts the hem of his sweater and clears his throat. “So, that diss track.”
“Right,” Yoongi says. His gaze drifts to the blank monitor and he scratches his chin in thought. “Is your heart set on a diss track?”
Hoseok frowns. “Isn’t that your whole thing?”
“Once or twice,” Yoongi allows. “I just think…”
And he trails off, grabbing his headphones from the desk and leaning over to switch on the large monitor, fingers flying over the keys and pulling up his production software. He messes around with it for several minutes, dragging and dropping and switching around small samples. Hoseok watches him patiently, watches his deft fingers dance around the keyboard with ease, watches the small furrow at his brow, the squint in his eyes, the slight part of his lips, the rise and fall of his chest. He catches himself and curses, forcing his gaze to linger elsewhere.
The resolve only lasts a few seconds before his eyes fall back to Yoongi.
After a long while, Yoongi rips out the headphones and taps the space bar. He leans back in his chair and waits for the sound to fill the space, watching Hoseok raptly for his reaction.
A few piano keys start it off, and then the violins comes in. It’s soft at first, almost unsure, the notes falling over themselves, but then the tempo quickens and it builds into something mellow and dark– invigorating . The music swells around Hoseok, like flames, the raw energy of it all entirely consuming, passion and strength somehow spoken through each twang of the piano keys.
It comes to a finish and Hoseok shifts to blink at Yoongi, who is anxiously biting the nail on his thumb. Hoseok doesn’t say anything and Yoongi smiles a little nervously and shrugs.
“It’s just an idea…” he starts.
“Just an idea?” Hoseok repeats, he grabs Yoongi’s shoulder, “Hyung what the fuck. How did you do that in forty minutes? How did you do that at all, I mean–”
Yoongi’s startled laughter cuts him off, and then Hoseok is laughing too, shoulders shaking, no efforts to suppress it. They calm down and smile at each other silently for a few seconds and it should be awkward, maybe, or uncomfortable but it’s not. Hoseok is suddenly very aware that his hand is still on Yoongi’s shoulder and he withdraws it quickly, placing it back onto his lap.
“There are a few of my own samples in there and it’s just a rough demo,” Yoongi says, scratching his chin. “It’s not a diss track, but…”
“It’s better,” Hoseok dismisses, waving a hand. “I…” he frowns, considering his words, rolls his eyes. “I want revenge and I know that’s childish, but I just...I want to prove I’m better off without him.”
“We can create a diss track,” Yoongi says quickly. “Seriously, this was just an idea, it’s your call.”
Hoseok shakes his head, “No, no. This is better, I mean that. It’s…triumphant. It sounds like triumph.”
Yoongi's lips quirk up in a small smile and he nods, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hoseok confirms. “Yeah, that slow build to begin with, into the crescendo? It tells a story.”
“I want it to tell your story,” Yoongi agrees, nodding. “He held you back–or, he wanted to, but he couldn’t. You fought back, you’re stronger than he thinks.”
“And you think that’s the story I should tell?” Hoseok asks, biting his lip.
It’s a good idea–a brilliant idea, even. Hoseok knew before walking in here that Yoongi is an incredible lyricist, knew that he has a voice like honey, words that roll off the tongue, the hand of midas as the media call it, but to see it firsthand is something else entirely.
“I think it’s your choice,” Yoongi says gently, pulling Hoseok from his thoughts, “I think it’s your story and you decide how we tell it, how it’s framed, what message you want to share.”
“I like it,” Hoseok says. He rolls his eyes at himself, “This is cheesy, but I thought of a phoenix rising from the ashes.”
“From the ashes,” Yoongi repeats, tapping a finger against the desk and arching an eyebrow. “Hell of a title.”
“You think?” Hoseok asks, a little surprised, a smile pulling at his lips. He tilts his head, “I was joking.”
“It wasn’t that funny,” Yoongi teases, laughing slightly when Hoseok gives him a look of betrayal.
“A story of vanquish told through melodic rap,” Hoseok muses.
“You wanna go for it?”
Hoseok’s gaze drifts from the dimming monitor, to the small keyboard on the desk, to the discarded headphones around the speaker and back to Yoongi’s hopeful expression. He swallows and then he nods.
“Let’s do it.”
-
It turns out that doing it is never as easy as just doing it.
Of course Hoseok knows that creating a track requires a certain amount of time and dedication, but he is also not usually on the production side of things.
Yoongi, however, is passionate in all areas of music and he seems to live and breathe it. He is constantly tapping his hands to beats that aren’t there, cutting off mid conversation to hurriedly note down lyric ideas and once, after a long night stint in his studio, Yoongi had fallen asleep in his chair humming in whatever dream he was having. (Yoongi had worked hard to deny it, but Hoseok had video proof.)
There’s a day where Hoseok drags Yoongi to the dance studio with him, unlocking the door to Yoongi’s curious look with his sacred set of keys.
They play the rough draft of the track on the overhead speakers and Hoseok’s eyes fall shut as the music swells in his ears. Like this; the weight of the studio beneath his feet and sounds vibrating through his skin, he feels settled and at home.
“How do you do this shit?” Yoongi whines. He’s sitting on the floor with his back to the mirror, attempting to copy Hoseok’s stretches.
Hoseok smirks and stretches his legs further into a split, his chest flat against the ground. Whilst Hoseok is in loose grey sweatpants and a black tank, Yoongi is wearing his skinny jeans and a lilac sweater, unable to move with the same swift flexibility.
Yoongi would also, in his own words, “Rather die than dance,” so it doesn’t really come as a surprise.
“You’re so…bendy,” Yoongi comments, apparently done with attempting the stretch and sitting upright again. “Does this all come with being an Idol?”
“Sure,” Hoseok says easily. “If I’m performing, there needs to be choreo to go along with it.”
“You don’t have a choreographer?” Yoongi asks curiously. He runs an absent hand through his hair, the pink strands sticking up at odd angles from the stretching. Hoseok bites back a smile and jumps to his feet before kneeling into a lunge.
“Nope,” he says, lips popping around the p, “I feel comfortable handing over the reins with my music, but dance…it’s mine. I need to have control.”
Yoongi nods in understanding. “You’re good at it,” Yoongi’s voice is rough and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Very good.”
Hoseok falls out of his lunge.
Yoongi watches him silently for a few seconds and then bursts into pleased laughter. Hoseok tries to keep a straight face from his lump on the floor, but Yoongi’s eyes are bright and he’s smiling ear to ear and Hoseok can't help but laugh too.
Yoongi waggles his fingers in offering and hauls him off his feet, still grinning. “Great job.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes fondly and bows something dramatic, “Thank you kindly.”
They are together most days and a number of nights working on their track. There is no deadline to reach, it is after all a passion project, but neither of them seem to mind. Hoseok enjoys their sessions to an almost surprising degree and he hopes Yoongi feels the same.
They sort of get lost in it, sometimes–the music and each other’s company. Hoseok has worked alongside other artists before, but for some reason it has never felt quite as consuming as this does.
They’re in the studio together now, Yoongi frowning at something on the monitor and Hoseok chewing on the end of a pencil.
Yoongi must catch him in his peripheral, because he turns to Hoseok and pulls a face. “That’s gross.”
“You’ll survive,” Hoseok shrugs, pointedly biting down harder. Yoongi rolls his eyes and Hoseok grins.
Yoongi turns away, fighting a smile. “If you’re craving dinner that badly…” he trails off and Hoseok laughs.
“Maybe we do need a break,” Hoseok admits, “It’s been,” and he checks a watch that isn’t on his wrist, “Several hours.”
“Astute observation,” Yoongi compliments. He stretches in his seat, groaning slightly as his back pops and Hoseok very purposefully does not react, eyes trained on Yoongi’s calm expression and not at all distracted by the pale sliver of skin that is exposed by his lilac sweater riding up.
“Ok,” Yoongi says, pulling Hoseok from his thoughts. Hoseok coughs and Yoongi rises from his seat. “Tteokbokki?”
“Ugh,” Hoseok swoons. He stands and places a hand over his heart, “You know just the way to my soul, hyung.”
Hoseok laughs at the look Yoongi is giving him and Yoongi nudges him with his shoulder, “Shut up.”
They make their way wrapped in coats and scarves and hats to combat the winter chill. Outside is still a canvas of whites, the snow no longer falling but settled thickly, blanketing the streets and cars alike.
There is a vendor on the corner they have become regulars at and they crunch their way over, shivering despite all the layers. Yoongi orders them two portions of steamy tteokbokki and hot chocolates and he swats at Hoseok’s hand when he tries to pass over his card.
“Let me,” Yoongi insists with a small frown, the threat of it entirely negated by his frostbitten cheeks and the grey scarf wound up to his chin.
Hoseok relents and smiles and pulls out his phone whilst Yoongi is asking the attendee something about contactless payment. He holds out his tteokbokki and snaps a quick picture of it, the snow dusted vendor and Yoongi’s small frame visible in the background, and uploads it to his instagram story.
Yoongi finishes paying and they walk their food over to the small park across the road, commandeering the wooden bench that is under a shelter and thankfully, snow-free. A few trees are scattered around the expanse of it, warm lights wrapped around their trunks, illuminating the area in a golden syrupy glow.
“It’s pretty,” Hoseok comments, smiling.
“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees quietly.
Hoseok turns away from the lights to look at Yoongi, only to find that Yoongi is already watching him with a quiet air of…something. Hoseok can’t quite discern it. Yoongi’s eyes are soft and there’s a small smile on his lips, a furrow in his brow like he is confused too.
Hoseok is the first to look away and he gestures to a set of swings in the far corner, “My sister loved those.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hoseok says fondly, “She’d ask me to push her so high she went around the bar.”
Yoongi laughs, “An adrenaline junkie?”
“Big time,” Hoseok agrees. He can almost hear her delighted giggles, see her toothy grin and the bows in her hair. He swallows around the lump in his throat and smiles.
“What was her name?” Yoongi asks and then he frowns slightly, “If you aren’t comfortable sharing you don’t–”
“Hyung, it’s fine,” Hoseok says gently. “Her name was Yeona.”
“Yeona,” Yoongi repeats. “Very pretty.”
“She was,” Hoseok agrees, “She had my mom's smile and my dad's eyes.”
Yoongi smiles. “Were you close?”
“We were best friends,” Hoseok grins. “She was several years younger, but my parents worked often, so. I’d pick her up from school, take her to the park.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Yoongi says softly.
“They were the best days of my life,” Hoseok agrees. He swallows, “She deserved longer.”
Yoongi nods and he cautiously places his hand over Hoseok’s. “You made her very happy in the time she did have.”
Hoseok exhales shakily and laughs a little wetly, “Thank you, hyung.” Yoongi squeezes Hoseok’s hand. “You know…” Hoseok considers, “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it in the tabloids.”
“Ahh,” Yoongi says, using one hand to adjust his beanie, the other still resting on Hoseok’s. “I try to avoid it all. Some of the stuff that gets written about me is…” And Yoongi trails off, gesturing with his free hand, but Hoseok doesn’t need a further explanation.
He feels guilt pool in his stomach at the words, knows the articles Yoongi is referring to, believed the articles Yoongi is referring to. The headlines, the paparazzi shots out of context…
“They misjudge me I think,” Yoongi continues, “Being well known is…overwhelming, for me.”
Hoseok smiles. “Not the extroverted type?”
Yoongi laughs quietly, “Is it that obvious? Honestly, I prefer to be alone in my studio.”
Hoseok nods in understanding before he feels another flare of guilt, he has been with Yoongi almost seven days a week for hours on end, encroaching in his safe place, taking up his time. If he had known Yoongi felt this way…
“It’s nice with you though,” Yoongi says suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. He scratches his ear, “You’re like a battery.”
Hoseok startles into abrupt laughter, “A battery?” He lifts both hands to cover his mouth and finds he immediately misses the warmth of Yoongi’s, but it’s very cold, so that’s no surprise.
“Hey, it’s not funny,” Yoongi accuses, frowning when Hoseok only laughs harder, “I just meant…you give me energy.”
“No, no, hyungie,” Hoseok says through giggles, “It’s not funny, it’s just–so cute.”
“Yah,” Yoongi grumbles. “Whatever.”
Hoseok’s giggles subside but he’s still grinning, “Who knew you were such a softie.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes but it looks fond, “I’m a man of many layers,” he says.
“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees softly, a little more serious than Yoongi may have intended, something spark-like flickering in his chest and a smile he can’t fight on his face, “I’m realising that, now.”
-
It’s seven am when he jolts awake.
He sleepily pads from his bedroom to hunt for the source of what woke him and he scowls when he spots the back of Taehyung’s sleep rumpled head, brown tufts of hair sticking up at odd angles. He folds his arms and asks, “Why are you in my kitchen?”
“You buy the good hot chocolate,” Taehyung explains causally, like that by any means begs his presence in Hoseok’s home on a Wednesday morning. He successfully retrieves the canister and waves it around, “We can’t all get our cocoa imported from France.”
“My heart bleeds,” Hoseok mocks, collapsing onto a barstool and yawning into his hand. His eyes drift over to the window and it’s barely light out, the sky is a pinky blend and the city is only just beginning to wake for the day. He yawns again, “Make me a mug?”
“Already on it,” Taehyung says, reaching for another mug from the cupboard. He lowers the heat on the stove and then turns his back to the counter, folding his arms and watching Hoseok consideringly.
“Am I in trouble?” Hoseok asks warily.
“That depends,” Taehyung says, scratching his chin, “You haven’t been sleeping. Are you having nightmares again?”
“Oh,” Hoseok says, surprised, “No–Tae, no. I haven’t.”
Taehyung narrows his eyes. He turns to switch the heat off and divides the cocoa into two mugs before joining Hoseok on the barstools. He props his chin up with his hand and asks, “Promise?”
Hoseok nods seriously, “You’re the first person I’d tell,” he says, before sipping his drink. He smiles lazily, “I’ve been sleeping well, actually. The best in a long time.”
Taehyung’s expression drains of scrutiny and he sounds relieved, “That’s great, hyung.”
Hoseok nods and then smothers another yawn with his palm and Taehyung tilts his head with a look that says explain that then. Hoseok laughs, “Long nights at the studio.”
“Oh! With Yoongi?” Taehyung asks, bouncing on the stool a little, his legs jolting up and down. “Wait…are you hooking up with him?”
“What? No. What?” Hoseok says and he puts a firm hand on Taehyung's leg, “Stop bouncing you idiot, keep still.” Taehyung does not keep still. “Seriously, nothing is happening–other than the track.”
Taehyung groans, “Nothing? No spark, no attraction? Nothing?”
“That is the definition of nothing,” Hoseok says solemnly. He thinks about it for a few seconds, “I mean sure, he is objectively very attractive.”
Taehyung waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously and Hoseok jostles his shoulder. “Objectively,” Taehyung repeats.
“Objectively he is!”
“So why don’t you objectively bang him?”
Hoseok laughs, “You’re the worst.”
“I’m just saying!” Taehyung says, grinning, “You’re both hot and young…” he holds out two fingers.
“And professionals,” Hoseok adds through laughter, holding up a third. “Seriously, it’s just work.”
“Uhuh,” Taehyung nods, entirely disbelieving. “Call me when you need condoms.”
“Why would I call you if I need…” Hoseok trails off, frowning slightly, he waves a dismissive hand when Taehyung opens his mouth to reply, “Never mind, I don’t wanna know.”
Taehyung grins, “What are we doing today?”
“We?” Hoseok repeats, the laughter barely concealed in his voice, “You are self-imposing on my day off.”
“Yes,” Taehyung agrees seriously, and they watch each other silently for a few seconds, before breaking into laughter.
“Ok, ok,” Hoseok says, still giggling, “There’s a Christmas market.”
“Oooh,” Taehyung says, eyes wide, “Jin and Jimin can come along. Oh! And Yoongi? Does he have any friends?”
“I mean… I presume so?” Hoseok says, unsure.
They have had many conversations about Hoseok’s family and his friends, but Yoongi doesn't seem to talk about his own circle with the same lax attitude that Hoseok does. He doesn’t know if it’s because Yoongi has troubling relationships in that area, or because he simply isn’t very open. Yoongi mentioned he is introverted, but that doesn’t necessarily equate to not having anyone at all, and besides, there are framed photos around his apartment with a smiling few that are some indicator. He is also Yoongi and he's…well, he’s the best, so Hoseok says, “Yeah, he has friends.”
“Awesome,” Taehyung says, unconcerned with the mental debate Hoseok just dragged himself through, “Text him?”
Hoseok smiles and obediently pulls out his phone. It’s nearing eight a.m now and he doesn’t think Yoongi will yet be awake, unless he also happens to have a chaos goblin for a best friend who rifles around his cupboards without pre-warning or permission.
Hoseok | 07:57 a.m
Hi hyungie♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎
I hope I’m not waking you!
Hoseok honestly doesn’t expect a reply for a few hours at least, which is why he jumps in surprise when his phone vibrates from his pocket ten minutes later. He is elbow deep in soapy water, washing the dishes, so he waits until he has finished washing and drying off everything before replying.
He makes the walk to his bedroom, passing Taehyung who is sprawled out comfortably on the couch watching morning cartoons. “Please, make yourself at home,” Hoseok teases. Taehyung barely turns to look at him, shooting finger guns in his general direction and making a clicking noise with his tongue. Hoseok shakes his head fondly and pulls his bedroom door shut.
Yoongi | 8:08 a.m
do my eyes betray me or is that a cat emoticon
u didn’t wake me btw. i have been dragged 2 the gym by nightmare incarnate
Hoseok smiles down at the messages, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Yoongi at the gym is…quite the picture. He types out a quick reply and tries and fails, to be cool about waiting for a response.
Hoseok | 8:22 a.m
Your suspicions are correct ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄₎ฅ
Nightmare incarnate??? I must know more about this mystery deity.
Yoongi | 8:26 a.m
S.O.S [Image Attached]
Hoseok almost drops his phone when the image comes through. It's a mirror selfie.
It was clearly taken as a joke; Yoongi’s expression is pulled into one of misery and his free hand is flipping off the camera. In the background there is someone–nightmare incarnate–Hoseok supposes, flexing his biceps and grinning into the mirror. And it was clearly, most definitely, taken as a joke. But Hoseok’s eyes linger on Yoongi’s arms…on his exposed collarbone, his large hands, hair slightly mussed from whatever workout he has just finished. It was clearly, most definitely, taken as a joke, but something hot in Hoseok curls.
Hoseok | 8:29 a.m
You’re a veteran, truly. The grueling horrors of early morning workouts…
Hoseok’s thumbs hover over the keyboard for a few seconds, he has a very short back and forth with his own mind, before rolling his eyes and quickly tapping out a second message before he loses his nerve.
You have very long fingers.
And there isn’t any implication to it. Not really. It’s just…an observation; the gym mirror could use a wipe down, nightmare incarnate is wearing odd socks and Yoongi has very long fingers.
Yoongi | 8:32 a.m
it has its perks
Hoseok swallows. That…might have implications. Maybe. Hoseok can’t tell. He doesn’t have the chance to reply before another text comes through.
i sent u my current state of suffering where is my pic in return??
Hoseok laughs and then abruptly remembers why he was supposed to text Yoongi in the first place.
He jumps out of bed and heads into the sitting room, flopping next to Taehyung on the couch who smiles and looks happy to see him. Cartoons are still quietly playing on the television and Taehyung shuffles until they are shoulder to shoulder, offering Hoseok some of the blanket he’s wrapped in.
Hoseok accepts and then lifts his phone to snap a picture of the two of them and Taehyung notices the camera, smiling brightly as Hoseok pulls a face that feigns annoyance. He laughs at the picture before sending it over to Yoongi.
“What was that about?” Taehyung wonders. He drops his head onto Hoseok’s shoulder with a yawn, eyes scrunching shut.
“Just texting Yoongi,” Hoseok says absently, biting back the urge to grin at his screen. He feels like a teenager again, weirdly giddy and bubbly. He rationalises it; Yoongi is a new friend and it’s been a while since he’s connected with someone so quickly. It’ll wear off once the thrill of it all isn’t so new.
Hoseok | 8:39 a.m
Chaos goblin. [Image Attached]
Yoongi | 8:42 a.m
taehyung!! does he know a quarter of our track is dedicated 2 him?
ur bed hair is…quite something
Hoseok blinks at the bed hair comment. He scrolls back up to the picture he sent, zooming in on his hair. Cannot even begin to work out what Yoongi means. It’s a compliment, maybe? Or…an observation? Is Yoongi getting him back for the finger thing? Hoseok really isn’t sure. He bites his lip.
Hoseok | 8:48 a.m
Tae knows and he is honoured. He’s a big Agust D fan ;)
Say goodbye to it, I'll be brushing out the mess soon.
Yoongi | 8:51 a.m
…here lies seok-ah’s pretty bedhead, forever in our hearts.
would taehyung like an autograph?
Hoseok squeaks and it’s loud enough that Taehyung jumps out of sleep, apparently drifting off on Hoseok’s shoulder. “Sorry,” Hoseok says softly, looping an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “You can go back to sleep.”
Taehyung yawns and he curls into Hoseok’s lap. “You’re ok? Did something scare you?”
“Something like that,” Hoseok says, smiling at Taehyung’s bleary expression. “I’m ok.”
Taehyung accepts this answer easily enough and he burrows further into Hoseok’s lap, his eyes sliding shut. Hoseok watches him fondly for a few seconds before returning to his phone.
Seok-ah. Pretty.
Yoongi gave him a nickname. He thinks Hoseok’s bed head is pretty.
Logically, he knows it doesn’t mean anything. Not really. Hoseok thinks many of his friends are pretty; Taehyung is beautiful, Jimin is angelic, Jin is carved from marble–Hoseok tells them that all the time and it’s never a big deal.
Still, he is having trouble getting his heart rate to settle.
Hoseok | 9:02 a.m
Heh ꈍ .̮ ꈍ
Taehyung would probably die for an autograph.
He’s actually why I texted, we’re heading to the Xmas market with a few other friends and I’d love for you to come :) Bring nightmare incarnate, or other company if you want!
No pressure. I know you’re not big on crowds. Totally ok if it’s no♡
Yoongi | 9:05 a.m
ur sweet :-) market sounds fun, nightmare incarnate will be overjoyed to finally meet you.
Hoseok grins at his phone screen like Yoongi can see his expression through the metal.
Hoseok | 9:07 a.m
4:00pm @ Yonsei-ro?? Can’t wait to see you guys!♡
Yoongi | 9:08 a.m
sounds great. see u soon, seok-ah :-)
-
The Christmas market is something from a storybook—snow dusting every surface like powdered sugar, a stark white contrast to the colourful lights draped over wooden huts and greened tree’s. Delicious smells of gingerbread and cinnamon flirt in the air, bathing the whole area in something welcoming.
“They always sound so bad every year,” Jin complains, unsubtly gesturing to the carol singers on the road opposite them.
Jimin laughs. “It’s for charity! It’s kinda nice…”
“There are other ways to raise money,” Jin insists. “Bad vocals will only drive people away.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Taehyung agrees, knocking back his mulled wine like it’s a shot. He saves the dredges of it for Jimin, who sniffs the crimson liquid suspiciously before shrugging and finishing it off. “‘Tis the season,” Taehyung grins, linking arms with Jimin. “Hyung, where’s Yoongi?”
Hoseok glances at Jin’s phone to check the time, “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” he says and then frowns, “You guys better behave.”
“Who, us?” Jimin asks, feigning innocence, his eyes wide and bottom lip jutted. It’s almost believable. Taehyung snorts.
“Just don’t say anything compromising. We work together, we’re professionals.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyung says, waving him off. “Business partners, colleagues, that one bestie who gets you through the work day, excetera.”
Hoseok points at him, “You are my biggest worry tonight.”
Taehyung grins. “Nice! It’s an honour. Love ya, hyung,” he says, bowing clumsily. Hoseok’s shoulders shake with silent laughter and Jimin steadies him with a fond smile.
Jin smirks at them all. “Is he bringing anyone?”
“A friend,” Hoseok says vaguely. His expression turns sheepish, “I don’t know his name.”
“Don’t know who’s name?” Yoongi asks, materialising out of absolutely nowhere. Hoseok jumps, his eyes drifting between the three faces, recognising his friends as nightmare incarnate and popular author Kim Namjoon and lingering for too long on the way Yoongi’s hair peeks out of his beanie.
“Oh,” Hoseok says eloquently, “Hello! ”
“Seok-ah,” Yoongi greets, in a tone that warms Hoseok right down to his bones. Yoongi gestures to his company, “This is Jeongguk and Namjoon.”
“Please, call me Joon,” Namjoon says, holding out a hand and Hoseok shakes it, feeling oddly formal. He shakes Taehyung and Jin’s hands, too. “I hope I'm not imposing by being here.”
Hoseok is quick to shake his head and grin, “Not in the slightest, I’m so glad you came! It’s great to meet you.”
“And you,” Namjoon says, dimples pulling at his cheeks.
Hoseok gestures to his crowd, “This is Taehyung, Jin and Jimin.”
“Hey,” Taehyung says with a small smile. To Yoongi he says, “I’m in love with you,” and he barely gives him a chance to react before he turns and points to Jeongguk, “You’re an artist.”
Yoongi is laughing quietly and Jeongguk’s eyes widen in almost comical surprise, but he nods enthusiastically, “Yeah, how’d you figure?”
“You just have that vibe…” Taehyung says solemnly, expression serious for a few seconds before he laughs at himself. Jeongguk grins. “I’m joking, I saw you at a showcase, once. You’re very talented.”
Jeongguk smiles bashfully and he dips his head. “Ah, thank you. That’s very kind.”
They all fall into step, weaving through the crowds, and then Jin is asking something about Joon’s latest novel and Joon happily responds, Jeongguk is talking about his art and Taehyung mentions that he likes his ballet focused painting and Jimin asks to see it, before telling a story about a guy who tried to paint from the audience during one of his own ballet recitals.
Yoongi is humming quietly under his breath, close enough to Hoseok that their shoulders brush every so often. They keep meeting each other’s eyes with small secret smiles, like they both know something they’re not telling the others.
And this company, the seven of them being together like this, it’s nice. Really nice.
“I need food immediately or I will die,” Taehyung says suddenly.
Yoongi laughs, “What’re you craving?”
“Bulgogi? Let’s get bulgogi.”
“I want something sweet,” Jimin chimes in and Jeongguk nods enthusiastically at his side.
“Buns? With red bean paste?”
“There’s mulled wine right?” Namjoon asks, sounding interested.
Hoseok grins at them all. Eventually, they make a plan to break off into groups–Jin and Namjoon to find mulled wine, Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung to find desserts and then hunt for bulgogi and Yoongi and Hoseok to…do as they please.
Taehyung had shot him a very unsubtle wink when he said that last part. Hoseok is choosing to believe Yoongi did not see it.
They end up by a carnival game, one of those ridiculous ones that are always rigged and designed purely to eat away your money. Still, it doesn’t stop Hoseok from getting a moon-eyed gaze when he spots the stuffed bears dangling forlornly from their hooks. He looks away and shakes his head, but Yoongi puts a hand out to stop him.
“You want one?” He asks, considering.
Hoseok laughs, “Doesn’t everyone want to win one of those things? The games are rigged.”
“Sure,” Yoongi agrees easily. “Do you want one, though?” His gaze is intense and weighted. Hoseok almost wishes he had some mulled wine of his own to blame the frothing in his stomach on.
“I don’t want you to waste your time…” Hoseok says, trailing off, but apparently it’s an answer enough because Yoongi turns to the booth and smiles at the bored looking attendee.
Yoongi pays and waves off Hoseok when he tries to stop him. He’s handed a large ball and is instructed to throw it into the bucket, hitting the target at least three times to win one of the bigger prizes. It sounds easy enough, but the man beside them is growing increasingly more frustrated as his ball continues to bounce a few inches away from the target.
Yoongi rolls his wrist once and then throws it carelessly; it lands dead center. Hoseok watches him with something he hopes doesn’t show on his face. Yoongi throws the ball twice more and somehow they both land the same. As the third one hits the target with a thud, Yoongi nods at the bucket, a small smile on his face. The attendee looks mildly impressed and uses a stick to grab the yellow stuffed bear Yoongi gestures to; the same one Hoseok was gazing at earlier.
“For you,” Yoongi says, ceremoniously placing the huge bear into his open arms.
Hoseok isn’t really sure what just happened. He laughs, “Hyung what the hell? Did you use some trick? I thought those games were made to lose “
Yoongi shrugs, “They are, maybe. But my mother took me to the carnival often when I was younger, I got pretty good at figuring them out.”
He smiles at the image of a smaller Yoongi winning all sorts of stuffed toys with his mother. “That’s really sweet,” he says, nuzzling the fur of the bear against his cheek. “Thanks for this.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just watches him in quiet thought. “Don’t mention it,” he says softly. “Does it have a name?”
“Hmm,” Hoseok ponders as they maneuver through groups of people. He smirks, “Gi?”
“Gi,” Yoongi deadpans and arches an eyebrow, gesturing to himself, “Very original.”
Hoseok grins. “Gi is a great name! Besides, you won him, it’s only right to name him after his father.”
Yoongi tugs on Hoseok’s wrist, pulling him out of the way of someone carrying two huge trays of food, “His father? Isn't that you? Or are we co-parenting?”
It’s almost laughable how quickly Hoseok gets butterflies. “Gi deserves the best upbringing possible,” he says solemnly. “Co-parenting is a choice that will benefit him.”
“Definitely,” Yoongi agrees, something in his eyes that Hoseok really can’t read.
“JUNG HOSEOK,” Taehyung’s loud voice cuts through the crowd. Hoseok cranes his neck and spots him waving frantically from a picnic bench with the others.
“You’re very well known,” Yoongi muses, as they walk over, “Is drawing attention to your presence the best idea?”
“Probably not,” Hoseok laughs. “Taehyung is feral, though. If anyone with ill intent approaches me he’ll claw them apart, probably.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums just as they reach the bench, “Me too.”
Taehyung throws a loose arm around each of their shoulders and drags them to sit so that he’s between them. “I missed you both. So much. Where’d you get that?” He gestures to Gi, kisses it’s soft forehead.
“Hyung won it for me,” Hoseok explains, opening his mouth when Jimin holds out a piece of bun in offering for him. He does the same for Yoongi, who looks amused, but obediently opens his mouth too.
“That’s adorable,” Taehyung says dreamily. “Get you a work bestie who–”
“How’s the wine?” Hoseok interrupts, smiling at Namjoon. It’s a poor attempt at redirecting the conversation and Taehyung pinches his thigh under the table for it.
“The wine is great,” Namjoon grins, swirling his cup.
“Very mulled,” Jin agrees, laughing at the look Namjoon gives him.
“You think there’s ice-skating?” Jeongguk asks suddenly, his eyes wide and excited and Hoseok can’t help but smile. “I haven’t gone ice skating in years.”
“There is,” Jimin nods, pointing behind them, “We saw it on our way in.”
Jeongguk’s shoulders bounce up and down in question and Jin nods, “Sounds like fun. Guys?”
Everyone is up for it. They finish off their food and drinks and throw away their paper dishes. Hoseok wraps a protective arm around Gi and Yoongi gives him a smile that is so fond he almost trips over his own boots.
They pay for their skates and Namjoon has to change his when they all dissolve into laughter upon realising the attendee had given him two left shoes. Hoseok places Gi into a locker with all their other belongings, pinching the bear's nose before he leaves and Jin laughs and pinches it too.
Once they are all laced up it’s a short few steps to the large outdoor rink, and then they’re on.
Jimin, Hoseok and Jeongguk skate easily, making their first lap together and laughing every so often at Jin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi as they alternate between gripping onto the wall and each other. Taehyung is the first to fall on his ass and when Jimin helps him up Taehyung laughs so hard he almost falls again. Jimin opts for dragging Taehyung along as Taehyung sticks out a leg and pretends the smooth movement is entirely his doing.
Jeongguk takes on Namjoon and Jin and instead of helping them along like Jimin is, he attempts to teach them first to balance, then to very slowly trust themselves to move. It takes a while, but they get the hang of it, making a snail pace around the rink, but not falling nonetheless. Hoseok watches them with fond, silent laughter and then he turns to see Yoongi, pouting by the wall.
Hoseok skates gracefully over to him, hands on his hips and head tilted. “You want some help?”
“No,” Yoongi sulks. Hoseok gives him a questioning look and Yoongi’s blank expression cracks with a smile, like he can’t help it. “I mean…yes.”
Hoseok laughs, “Okay, hyung.” He takes Yoongi’s hands between his own, skating backwards and pulling him slowly, but Yoongi wobbles and then stops altogether with a frown. Hoseok holds onto him a little tighter, gently tugging him forward, “I’m not gonna let you fall.”
Yoongi nods tentatively, before resuming his movement, allowing Hoseok to pull him along and hesitantly moving his skates at Hoseok’s instruction. Everytime he gets something right Hoseok can’t help but squeeze his hands in encouragement.
The third time Hoseok softly says, “You’re doing great, hyung,” Yoongi gives him a look that is so raw Hoseok almost trips over his own skates. He regains his balance at the last second, averting his eyes and settling his gaze behind Yoongi, offering him the view of Jimin skating around in circles and Taehyung pretending to throw money, as Jeongguk laughs hysterically, filming them both.
Later, after they’ve skated themselves to the brink of hyperthermia and warmed up over hot cocoa, laughing at each other's expense for an hour, Taehyung suggests a sleepover.
“Aren’t we too old?” Namjoon wonders.
Taehyung grins and throws an arm around his shoulders, “Silly hyung, we’re never too old for a sleepover.”
Hoseok laughs, “Taehyungie loves sleepovers.”
“I do,” Taehyung agrees happily. “And now we have three new faces in the gang! This is great.”
There’s a short back and forth regarding where exactly the sleepover will take place, eventually settling on Yoongi’s apartment since his sitting-room is the largest and for the journey back they divide between Yoongi and Jin’s cars.
At present, Hoseok is warm and content in Yoongi’s passenger, Gi on his lap, watching him change gears like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
It hits him then, in Yoongi’s car, the mix of the reddish glare of the traffic light and the orange of slowly dimming sun, brandishing Yoongi’s face into something breathtaking—it hits him that he really, really likes this guy.
And it should be a problem, it should be enough for him to put a stop to it all, but…
But Yoongi meets his eyes, an eyebrow quirked as if to say may I help you? And Hoseok laughs at his expression and Yoongi laughs at Hoseok’s laughter and Jeongguk looks up from his phone in the backseat, confused, but smiling and Hoseok thinks that he doesn’t ever want this feeling to stop.
Back at Yoongi’s apartment, it’s chaos. They wrestle duvets and pillows onto the floor and Jeongguk and Jin shut down each other’s movie suggestions for ten minutes straight, until Jeongguk does something with his eyes that would melt butter and Jin grumbles under his breath, relenting and handing him the remote.
Yoongi appears with more hot cocoa, and Taehyung mentions the French cocoa Hoseok keeps and Yoongi gives him a challenging look.
“You think you got it all because your hot cocoa is imported from France?” Yoongi teases.
Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, pretends to check his fingernails, feigning smugness and sinking lower into the couch. “Pretty much.”
They all settle down for the movie; Jin, Namjoon, Jeongguk and Jimin cross legged on the mountain of duvets on the floor, Taehyung curled up on a velvety armchair, a blanket draped around his shoulders, and Yoongi and Hoseok on separate ends of the couch. Their drinks are set on the coffee table, along with a bowl of popcorn and the lights are off, only the glare of the television visible in the dark.
If you were to ask Hoseok at a later date, he would admit that he doesn’t remember a single thing that happened in the movie.
Yoongi is just…so close. Or, he’s not, but he feels closer than usual. The weight of Hoseok’s earlier epiphany makes his presence all the more apparent. His nerve endings are on high alert, every time Yoongi so much as shifts Hoseok’s insides cartwheel.
It really shouldn’t affect him so much; Yoongi is just there, existing–except, maybe that’s the problem
Around halfway through the movie (possibly, Hoseok really isn’t paying attention) Yoongi starts to yawn. He slumps down further onto the sofa, body tilting closer and closer toward Hoseok, until he drifts off. His sleep is short lived thanks to the loud explosion that erupts on the television and Yoongi jumps, rubbing his eyes and blearily squinting at his surroundings, before his eyes fall on Hoseok.
Hoseok smiles at him, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Yoongi mumbles into a cushion, his voice laced with sleep and oh. Hoseok can’t believe it took him this long to realise.
“You can sleep hyung, if you’re tired,” Hoseok says.
Yoongi yawns into his hand as if to prove a point and then smiles sheepishly. “What about the movie?”
“It’s not a great movie,” Hoseok lies easily. It could quite literally be worth an Oscar, he hasn’t digested a word of it.
Yoongi nods, eyes heavy and shuffles around for a few seconds trying to get comfortable, he sighs when a few cushions fall onto the floor in his attempts and Hoseok swallows.
“Hyung,” he says weakly, “You can…” and he gestures to his lap, avoids Yoongi’s gaze, ignores the butterflies in his stomach.
“You’re sure?” Yoongi checks. Hoseok quickly nods, he doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth right now. Yoongi smiles gratefully and shuffles until his head is resting on Hoseok’s lap. He sighs a small, contended thing and Hoseok just about stifles the urge to scream into the cushion next to him. Yoongi’s eyes slide shut, and after a few minutes of Hoseok not daring to shift an inch, his breathing evens out, pulled under by sleep.
“Has that finally happened?” Taehyung asks into the silence, gesturing towards the couch. Hoseok’s eyes snap up from where they are lingering on Yoongi’s peaceful expression to a smug Taehyung.
“He’s sleeping, shh,” Hoseok evades.
Jeongguk and Namjoon exchange glances and Jeongguk opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, before Namjoon pats his thigh and gives him a look that says don’t you dare . Jimin lifts his head sleepily from a pillow and smiles. “Cute,” he says, “I love you guys together.”
“We’re not–” Hoseok tries, stopping when Yoongi shifts slightly in his lap. There are a few silent seconds, where they all watch him, waiting for him to wake, but thankfully he doesn’t. Instead his lips part slightly and he rolls until his face is pressed into Hoseok’s stomach. In retrospect, Hoseok is not thankful–this is infinitely worse.
“Not a word,” Hoseok says as Taehyung opens his mouth. Taehyung mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key, but then gestures between them with a hand on his heart and an adoring expression on his face.
“You should talk to him,” Jeongguk says. Hoseok’s eyes shift to him and his expression is sincere, “Yoongi hyung, I mean. You should talk.” Namjoon flicks Jeongguk’s forehead but he’s smiling.
“About what?” Hoseok wonders, his eyes involuntary drifting down to Yoongi, giving in to the urge to bury his hand in his hair, the soft, pink strands contrasting prettily with his tanned skin. Hoseok scratches at Yoongi’s scalp for a few seconds and then looks up again–the movie is paused now and every single one of them is watching him with an expectant expression. Hoseok bites back a laugh, “About what?”
Jeongguk’s eyes drift purposefully down to Yoongi in his lap and back up to Hoseok, before he shrugs with an innocent smile and turns back to face the television. The rest of them seem to take that as a cue, because they do the same, unpausing the movie and continuing to watch it, like that entire interaction was anything but painfully confusing.
-
Hoseok wakes the next day with a dry mouth, and a stiff neck.
It’s late, he knows it’s late. The sitting room is empty—duvets tidied away, his friends made scarce and the yellowish afternoon sunlight spilling onto the floorboards. He stretches with a groan and a maroon blanket he doesn’t remember grabbing slips off the couch as his back pops. He folds it utop the cushions and pads into the kitchen in search of Yoongi.
The kitchen is suspiciously empty, but there is a mug of coffee on the counter next to a note with Seok-ah:) scrawled in Yoongi’s distinct hand. Hoseok’s insides flip and he picks up the mug. It’s lukewarm, probably made some time ago, but he gratefully gulps at it, slipping the note into his pocket and feeling everything. His phone buzzes with a notification and he uses his free hand to tap at the screen, smiling lazily when he sees that Taehyung has mentioned him in a tweet.
Kook @JJK • 10m
Ordered a hot cocoa and it came COLD. Day officially ruined. ㅠㅠ
tae @thv • 7m
Replying to @JJK
next time i break into @jhope’s apartment for his fancy french stuff you can tag along kookie :)
Kook @JJK • 5m
Replying to @thv and @jhope
My hero. Text me the deets of this super secret cocoa heist.
Hobi @jhope • 4m
Replying to @JJK and @thv
Chaos goblin and nightmare incarnate teaming up to rifle through my cupboards??? Calling the authorities.
Kook @JJK • 4m
Replying to @jhope and @thv
Hold on…not that it matters at all but…who is who…
Hobi @jhope • 2m
Replying to @JJK and @thv
Let’s ask @AgustD :D
hoseok’s gf (real) @hobinator • 1m
Replying to @jhope and others
WAIT SO THE COLLAB RUMORS R TRUE??? *grabs hobi’s face* BABE THIS ISN'T YOU LOOK AT ME
robin @jhopemyhope • 1m
Replying to @jhope and others
i feel sick to my stomach yall get hobi away from agust d this the same guy who SPITS on his fans. we all remember hobi’s ex this is the same shit AGAIN
bree @featherskies • 1m
Replying to @jhope and others
is it just me who’s super wary about this rumored collab? hobi is so sweet & he would def agree to it even if he didn’t want to. what if his management or even agust d are forcing him? this isn’t ok.
Hoseok’s smile turns to a frown as he reads the influx of negative replies and the warmth in his stomach hardens into something stone-like. He knows that Yoongi has a poor reputation, but he is still rather surprised that everyone blindly believes the things they read without question. But then he thinks of the tabloids, of his initial impression of Yoongi and…right. He did the exact same thing. Didn’t question the headlines for a second. Assumed the worst.
He’s not supposed to tweet on the character of other public figures without explicit permission from his management, but…he’s itching to say something. He already received an earful from his management after fans deduced Yoongi’s identity from a picture Hoseok posted of his literal back–that’s what sparked the collab rumors in the first place. But he can’t leave it like this. Not when his replies are a minefield of hatred for Yoongi, the same guy who won him a stuffed bear without hesitation because Hoseok blinked at it.
He bites his lip and types out a tweet before he can second guess it.
Hobi @jhope • 1m
So grateful to have fans that are open minded and choose kindness! Working with a variety of artists keeps my music interesting and I love that you guys trust my judgment on who they are :)
It’s sort of vague and a little passive aggressive, but he thinks it sends the message without crossing any contractual lines. He just hates the idea of Yoongi logging into social media and seeing…all of that.
Speaking of….
He quickly drains the remainder of his coffee and washes up the mug, before drifting towards Yoongi’s studio. He hovers a hand an inch from the door, preparing to knock—but then he hears it.
His arm falls limp at his side and his mouth parts in surprise. Yoongi is playing the piano.
Yoongi is playing the piano, and it’s beautiful.
With each press of the keys Hoseok’s heart thumps faster in his chest, the vibrations tingling across his skin and the rich sound swimming in his ears, like swallows darting in a pond for fish. Hoseok pushes the door open with a trembling hand, an apology ready on his tongue, but Yoongi doesn’t even notice him; his eyes are shut and his lips are parted, fingers caressing the keys, arching across the instrument with the familiarity of an old friend.
Hoseok doesn’t think he has ever seen Yoongi so honest; he’s bleeding raw emotion all over the place, and Hoseok just can’t look away.
The keys begin to slow, stumbling into something deep and misty, tenebrous chords calling out with that same aching precision. Yoongi moves to the sound with an almost magnetic ease, his head bobbing, foot tapping the pedal. The notes speed up again, the sounds sliding together into an overwhelming liquidy blend of gold, until he plays the arpeggio, slowly–painstakingly, the whisper of his fingers saying so much.
There’s an echo of dimming sound before Yoongi lifts his foot off the pedal, and then it’s silent. Yoongi exhales longly into the quiet, hands hovering over the keys, almost like there’s nowhere he’d rather put them. Hoseok is hesitant to break the spell that has fallen over the studio, but he also doesn’t want to startle Yoongi. Regretfully, he lifts a hand to knock at the open door, an apologetic smile on his lips when Yoongi jumps slightly and whips his head around.
“Seok-ah,” he breathes.
“Hi,” Hoseok says. “Um, thank you for the coffee.” They’re just words, really. How can they be anything more after what he just heard?
“Don’t mention it,” Yoongi dismisses, he taps at a few notes absently. “Did you…” he trails off, gesturing to the piano.
“Yes,” Hoseok admits. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, uh–I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Oh,” Yoongi says, frowning, “No, Seok-ah, you never intrude.”
Hoseok swallows and he smiles a little self-deprecatingly, “This is your safe space and I just…walked in. You were playing, and I didn’t ask and… I'm just. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising,” Yoongi says, somehow both soft and firm. He pats the spot next to him on the piano bench. “Sit.”
Hoseok opens his mouth in hesitation, but Yoongi is giving him a look. Hoseok tentatively walks over and drops down beside him. Like this, they are shoulder to shoulder, Yoongi’s body temperature is only moderately warm, but Hoseok feels like he’s about to burn.
“Look at me,” Yoongi says.
Hoseok does, eyes lifting from the ivory keys to Yoongi’s calm expression; his eyes are honest and lips parted. Hoseok smiles, he can’t help it, Yoongi is right there.
“You don’t have to apologise for taking up space,” Yoongi says seriously. “You don’t have to apologise at all; for being in this studio, for being around me.”
Hoseok feels his heart climb to his throat. It’s a branch of reassurance that Hoseok is constantly desperate for, words that he craves. He swallows, “But…”
“No,” Yoongi says, with an air of finality. “I want you around, I like having you around and I don’t want you to feel guilty for being around.”
Horrifyingly, Hoseok feels tears well up in his eyes and he blinks them back furiously, swallowing down the lump in his throat. His expression must give it all away though, because Yoongi lifts a palm to his cheek and uses his thumb to swipe at his under eye.
The air around them changes and they are suddenly very close together. Yoongi raises his other palm to bracket Hoseok’s cheek, watching him in quiet thought, his thumbs rubbing slowly up and down the length of Hoseok’s face. Hoseok’s gaze keeps unconsciously flitting to Yoongi’s lips, the pink pillow of his bottom lip jutting out slightly. The moment he catches himself doing it he averts his gaze, but Yoongi’s amused smile tells Hoseok that he caught it. Hoseok opens his mouth to apologise, but then Yoongi is leaning in, and Hoseok’s eyes are falling shut…
Yoongi stops an inch away from his face, so close that Hoseok can feel his small puffs of breath–so close that he can feel Yoongi’s next words brush against his lips, “I want to kiss you.”
Hoseok is quick to nod, to whisper, “Kiss me,” to close the gap, to lean in at the same time Yoongi does, parting his lips on an exhale.
And then they are kissing.
Time is nothing, is the press and glide of Yoongi’s lips against his own, they are soft and a little chapped and sparks fizz at the base of Hoseok’s spine, his heart pounding in his chest. Yoongi nips at his bottom lip and a small sigh escapes from Hoseok’s mouth. He doesn’t even have the mind to think about being embarrassed, how can he think anything at all when Yoongi’s mouth is molded to his, slowly taking him apart, hands gentle on Hoseok’s face like he is something worth treating with care. His mind is a blur, his thoughts are a low buzzing TV static and the only thing that slips through the incoherency is Yoongi.
Yoongi is the first to pull back, their foreheads resting together, his breathing quick and shaky, hands barely a weight on Hoseok’s face.
“So,” Yoongi whispers into the small space between them, hands dropping to Hoseok’s shoulders. Hoseok huffs a laugh and he feels Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “Was that…” he trails off and Hoseok pulls back, frowning at the hesitance in Yoongi’s expression.
He traces a thumb along Yoongi’s wet bottom lip and Yoongi inhales sharply, “Was that?” He repeats.
“I don’t–I mean, was it okay? I’m sorry for not being more clear, I didn’t…” Yoongi’s rambling trails off again but this time it’s because Hoseok is smiling fondly and pulling him closer.
Hoseok waits until there is barely an inch between them to speak and mumbles, “Who’s apologising now?” Before capturing his lips in another kiss.
This time it’s deeper, heated–intense, the earlier hesitance thawed and rebuilt into something with a fiery edge. Hoseok can taste their shared breathing, coffee and something so Yoongi that a small groan slips from the back of his throat. The sound only encourages them both, Yoongi’s hands tightening around the base of Hoseok’s neck, Hoseok burying his hands in Yoongi’s hair, pulling each other closer, the urgent press of mouths and slide of desperate tongues.
Yoongi pulls back again and Hoseok whines needily at the loss of contact, chases Yoongi’s lips for a second before Yoongi slides his hands back up to Hoseok’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“Hi,” Hoseok says shakily.
Yoongi closes his eyes and swallows, almost like the sight of Hoseok is too much to handle right now. He opens his eyes again and smooths his thumb along the sharp ridge of Hoseok’s jaw, “Do you want…” he trails off, eyes hooded and dark, expression slightly hesitant and Hoseok is beginning to think that Yoongi might be a little shy about all of this.
“Hmm?” Hoseok hums, questioning, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s jaw, reveling in Yoongi’s answering shudder. He noses down until he reaches his neck, kissing and sucking and dragging his teeth across the sensitive pale skin there. “Use your words, hyung.”
“Seok-ah,” Yoongi mutters weakly, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he scratches Hoseok’s scalp.
“Hmm?” Hoseok hums again, this time against his neck, the vibrations causing Yoongi to shudder prettily. “What, baby?”
Yoongi groans at the nickname and Hoseok hides his smirk against Yoongi’s skin, pressing kisses to the mark he just left until Yoongi’s hands slide onto his face and redirect him to his mouth. Hoseok happily hums into the kiss, lips parting and nipping, his thumb digging into the bruise blooming on Yoongi’s throat, heart racing greedily in his chest.
He shifts slightly to relieve the tightness in his jeans and the friction has him pressing deeper into the kiss, has Yoongi sighing further into his mouth, his hand trailing deliciously from Hoseok’s chest, to his stomach, to the button on his jeans. He pulls back with a questioning look.
Hoseok’s mind races to catch up, his throat runs dry and he wets his lips, “B…bed,” he stammers, aiming for it to sound like a question but it comes out sounding wrecked. He can’t even imagine how he looks right now, if it’s anything like how he feels…pupils blown wide from desire, desperately hard and panting.
Yoongi, though…Yoongi looks equally as debauched, his eyes dark and chest rising and falling quickly with his own breathless shuddering. Hoseok mentally logs the sight to revisit later. “Bed,” Yoongi agrees croakily, clearing his throat and rising from the stool on shaking legs.
The bed is soft and warm, and Hoseok all but falls into it, Yoongi hungrily pushing him backwards until Hoseok’s head hits the pillow, straddling his lap and shifting until their clothed cocks are pressed together. Yoongi’s hands trail conversationally down Hoseok’s torso, stopping at Hoseok’s jeans button and popping it hastily at his answering nod.
Hoseok lifts his hips off the bed and Yoongi rids him of his jeans, throwing them onto the floor, before pulling off his own. He shifts until he is straddling Hoseok again, hard and straining and exposed in navy boxers, legs shaking and a crimson flush dusting his cheeks. Hoseok throws his head back against the pillow at the sight and groans.
Yoongi smiles cheesily at Hoseok’s dramatics and leans forward until their mouths meet again. Hoseok grunts in relief, bucking up against Yoongi and Yoongi whimpers into his mouth at the friction, tugging firmly at Hoseok’s hair.
And maybe the position should feel juvenile, grinding against each other desperately like horny teenagers, taking whatever they can get—but it doesn’t.
It doesn’t because Yoongi’s boxers are dipping dangerously low, revealing the coarse hair at his groin, hips stuttering against Hoseok’s with a feverish force, little whimpers and “ Seok-ah’s” slipping past his kiss-bitten lips. It doesn’t because the pleasure is blinding, because Hoseok’s hips are surging upwards to meet Yoongi’s in a rough jerk, because their mouths are meeting in something heavy and wet and so good.
They get faster, somehow more desperate than before, mouths separating just so they can quicken their movements, thrusts becoming uncoordinated and choppy, fucked out with pleasure. Hoseok’s thumbs burn holes into Yoongi’s hip bones and Yoongi is all but pulling chunks out of Hoseok’s hair. Hoseok’s boxers are damp, Yoongi’s hang lower and lower on his hips, his skin flushed and gorgeous and he’s moaning in a way that goes straight to Hoseok’s cock.
“Baby,” Hoseok groans, head lulling back onto the pillow, eyes sliding shut. He jerks up roughly, his head swimming, mouth falling open, grunting in time with their hips.
Yoongi’s whimpers are muffled into Hoseok’s neck and his shaky, “Seok-ah,” is Hoseok’s undoing.
He comes hard, breath hitching and shoulders shaking, tingling bodily, right down to the tips of his toes, his mind whiting-out with pleasure, fingers gripping onto Yoongi’s waist so hard he might break skin. Yoongi follows him over the edge, groans with a final jerk of his hips and shudders, Hoseok watches him hazily, watches his eyes scrunch shut and his mouth fall open, the flush on his cheeks and the tremble of his limbs, looking so fucking beautiful.
Their bodies melt into each other, sweaty and breathing heavily, slowly coming down from the high. Yoongi curls his head into Hoseok’s chest and it hits Hoseok, then, that he's still wearing his shirt–they both are. He giggles quietly and Yoongi lifts his head to regard him with a curious expression, cheeks still flushed and an eyebrow quirked. His hair is so disheveled it really does look like cotton candy.
“Something funny?” He asks, a small smile on his own lips. Hoseok shakes his head and then contradicts himself when his giggles continue. Yoongi pokes his dimple fondly and Hoseok feels butterflies all over again, like they didn’t just rut at each other for half an hour like teenagers, like they don’t both have cum drying in their boxers.
“That was…” Hoseok trails off, smiling dopily, brushing Yoongi’s bangs off his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into the touch like a cat for a few seconds, before he meets Hoseok’s eyes again.
“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees. He rubs absently at the marks lining his throat and Hoseok feels a flare of possessiveness. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you.”
Hoseok’s expression turns into something curious and he pulls Yoongi in to kiss him again, before leaning back. “How long?”
Yoongi smiles lazily, “Secret.”
Hoseok’s pouts and then pulls Yoongi into another kiss, kissing his lips, each cheek, his forehead, his nose, his jaw and then his lips again. “Tell,” kiss, “Me,” kiss. Yoongi is grinning too wide for them to kiss properly now, and Hoseok smiles too, because it’s Yoongi and that smile makes him weak.
“You looked really pretty in the Feather Sky music video,” Yoongi says conversationally, one hand wrapping a strand of Hoseok’s hair around his finger and the other brushing against Hoseok’s collarbone.
“Why are you talking about my music video?” Hoseok says, slightly distracted at the feverish way Yoongi’s fingers skirt across his skin, he sits up and pulls his shirt off, flopping back down onto the bed. Yoongi’s eyes roam hungrily across the muscled plains of his abdomen. “Baby.”
“Hmm?” Yoongi hums distractedly, his eyes lift from Hoseok’s torso with a small smile. Hoseok rolls his eyes and kisses him again. Yoongi pulls back and blinks dazedly, pulling his own shirt off and curling back into Hoseok’s chest.
“Hey,” Hoseok says, poking at Yoongi’s scalp. Yoongi nuzzles further into Hoseok’s chest, sighing contentedly. “Baby?”
Yoongi looks up at him sleepily, “Nap?”
Hoseok thinks that if Yoongi asked him to walk through a lake of lava at that moment, he would agree with zero precursor.
As it is, he presses his lips to Yoongi’s forehead and pulls him closer to his chest, grabbing the grey duvet from the end of the bed and covering their bodies. His head falls back against the pillow and he runs a hand up Yoongi’s spine. “Nap.”
-
“You need to be more careful about what you tweet, Hoseok.”
“Mmm,” Hoseok hums drowsily. It’s four p.m, technically not late nor early enough for him to be sleepy, but he’s exhausted.
The source of his exhaustion chooses that moment to curl closer, tucking his head even further into Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok smiles fondly and absently swipes a thumb back and forth across Yoongi’s hip, suppressing the urge to put the phone down on his manager giving him the third degree over a tweet that could have meant literally anything.
“I understand you are working with Agust D, but you cannot burn bridges to defend him,” Haneul says.
“I understand,” Hoseok says, swallowing down a yawn. “The fans were making incorrect claims, though. The things in the tabloids about him aren’t true.”
“That’s just how the media works, Hoseok,” Haneul explains, like Hoseok doesn’t know firsthand just how brutal the media can be, like Haneul didn’t send out a dozen lawsuit threats when his personal information was being published. “You’re not going to fix his reputation overnight.”
“Sure,” Hoseok agrees easily, “But I’m also not going to sit idle whilst people slate his character under my tweets, either.”
“Hoseok,” Haneul says sternly, “I’m asking you not to cause any tension between your fans or the media, Agust D is a profitable name to stick on an article and the fans don’t know any different.”
“They’ll figure it out soon,” Hoseok says, watching Yoongi’s eyes flutter beneath his eyelids. “Eventually, they’ll have to.”
Haneul is silent for a few seconds, “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” Hoseok says nonchalantly. “It was nice talking to you, Haneul.”
“Please call me before you do anything stupid,” Haneul sighs. “You’re going to push me into early retirement.”
“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” Hoseok says, laughing before he hangs up the phone.
“Was that your other boyfriend?” Yoongi asks, mumbling into Hoseok’s skin.
Hoseok raises an eyebrow and he meets Yoongi’s sleepy eyes. “Other boyfriend?”
Yoongi lifts his head and scrubs at his face, yawning into the back of his hand. His hair is still a disheveled mess, there’s gunk clinging to his eyelashes and his lips are dry and chapped.
Hoseok has never wanted anyone more in his life.
Yoongi’s voice is soft, “If you want to. We could–I mean, I don’t want to presume, but.”
Hoseok smooths a hand along the expanse of Yoongi’s exposed thigh and Yoongi shivers. “You don’t want to presume what, baby?”
Yoongi gives him a look that says you know what, and Hoseok does know what, of course he does. He kind of just wants to hear Yoongi say the words
“I don’t want to presume that we’re together now. Because I kissed you, or because…” he trails off, gesturing to them and the slept-in bed, “But if you want to, I would like that,” his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “A lot.”
Hoseok leans in and kisses him firmly, their lips meeting at just the right angle, his heart immediately kicking into overdrive. He pulls back and says, “Yes.”
“Yes?” Yoongi repeats cautiously. Hoseok rolls his eyes and tugs Yoongi forward until they’re laying beside each other against the pillow, Yoongi goes with a small yelp.
“Yes, I want to be together,” Hoseok confirms, savouring the soft smile Yoongi’s lips curve into before sliding his hands to the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.
-
It’s Christmas Eve.
Hoseok is alone in his apartment and depressed, probably. Refusing to admit it.
His flight to Gwangju to join his mother was cancelled abruptly a few days before due to snowfall. Hoseok’s heart had flipped out in his chest with panic at the idea of his mother spending Christmas alone, but she had reassured him with a phone call full of affection that she would simply join the neighbours for Christmas. The Cheong family are kind enough people, so Hoseok had stopped worrying.
But now he’s alone in bed, staring at the ceiling like the polished white might offer him some sort of company, a framed picture of his family before the accident resting uptop his chest and all the ugly emotions he can push beneath the surface every other day of the year threatening to spill over and consume him.
He knows he should probably contact one of his friends, but Taehyung, Jimin and Jeongguk have left town to visit their families, Jin is spending the next four days at a ski-resort with his parents and Namjoon and Yoongi are together, somewhere. Hoseok doesn’t know the details, just knows that he doesn’t want to ruin their Christmas by imposing. Being clingy, dramatic—he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his bullshit.
Distantly, he can feel himself crying, but the tissue box is on the nightstand, and to reach that he’d have to sit up. He squeezes his eyes shut instead, burrowing his wet face into his pillow and curling into himself for warmth. He clutches the framed photo to his chest and the corner of it digs uncomfortably into his skin, but it’s not like it matters, it’s nothing of the pain that currently engulfs him.
He must drift off to sleep at some point, because the next time he wakes it’s to his phone vibrating loudly by his head. He swallows hard, clears his throat and picks up without checking who called, “Hello?”
“Seok-ah,” Yoongi greets over the line, gravelly and affectionate. “Is everything okay?”
Hoseok shuts his eyes for a few seconds at the question, at the question in Yoongi’s even timbre, concern rounding the vowels. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Taehyung says your mom contacted him about a cancelled flight. You never left for Gwangju.”
And, well. Shit.
Of course his mom would tell Taehyung. She probably anticipated this reaction from him—for all Hoseok was stressed about her spending the holidays alone, his mother felt the same worry for him. The gesture of it thaws at the hard set of his heart, the first bit of warmth he has felt since his flight was cancelled.
“Oh,” Hoseok says, dumbly.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Why didn’t you tell me, Seok-ah? I would never let you spend the holidays alone.”
Hoseok swallows around a lump in his throat at the words, blinking back his tears fiercely, “I just…” his voice breaks off at the end with a choke and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip so hard it draws blood. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
There is silence on the line for a short while, long enough that Hoseok wonders if Yoongi will even respond. Maybe he has finally realised how fucking pathetic Hoseok is, maybe he is thinking of a way to break things off.
Hoseok shuts his eyes and the silence over the line becomes noises of movement; the slam of a car door, footsteps, the automated voice of an elevator, more footsteps and then, Yoongi says, “Open the door.”
Hoseok sits up boltright, the framed photo dropping to his lap and he rubs at his eyes blearily. “What?”
“Open the door,” Yoongi repeats. “The chicken is getting cold.”
Hoseok’s limbs protest the movement but he drags himself out of bed and over to the front door, heart thudding in his chest as he fiddles with the locks for a few seconds, before pulling the door open.
Yoongi is standing there, snow dusting his hair, in a pale blue sweater, damp and hanging off his shoulders, hands supporting a huge dish, a fond smile on his face, pulling at the frost bitten red of his cheeks. His chest is heaving, like he ran up the six flights of stairs to reach Hoseok’s level and he is breathless when he says, “Seok-ah.”
Hoseok doesn’t realise he’s crying until Yoongi is hastily placing the dish on the floor and wrapping Hoseok in his arms. Hoseok buries his face into Yoongi’s shoulder, into the warmth of his skin, breathing him in, his scent all tangerines and boyish.
They stand there for a long while, Yoongi’s fingers tracing non-committal patterns over Hoseok’s t-shirt and Hoseok getting snot and tears all over Yoongi’s sweater. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into Yoongi’s skin.
“Don’t apologise,” Yoongi says softly, a hand slipping underneath Hoseok’s shirt to rub circles across his back. “I’m here.”
“You are,” Hoseok sniffs wetly. “That’s partly why I’m crying.”
“Oh no,” Yoongi says, pulling back slightly to look Hoseok in the eye. His free hand comes to rest at the base of Hoseok’s neck. “Did I make you sad?”
“Never,” Hoseok disagrees, shaking his head. He leans in to kiss Yoongi, then hesitates when he remembers the crying, the snot and general state of him. Yoongi must pick up on it, because he uses the hand at Hoseok’s neck to pull him forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Hoseok’s lips and then his forehead. Hoseok exhales slowly, “Thank you.”
“More like thank you,” Yoongi amends and he grins at Hoseok’s confused frown, “I get to spend Christmas with my hot boyfriend,” he elaborates, “No better gift than that.”
Hoseok opens his mouth and then closes it. Doesn’t really have the words for how much this means to him, how much Yoongi means to him. “I…you…”
“I know,” Yoongi nods, he presses a firm kiss to Hoseok’s lips and pulls back an inch to murmur, “I know.”
There is not a version of Yoongi that Hoseok isn’t enamoured by, but he is very slowly putting together a list of his favourites.
There is Yoongi at the piano; passionate and raw and beautiful, fingers gliding across the instrument with the precision of gazelles, Yoongi after sex; shuddering and flushed and blissed out, his chest rising and falling with the exertion, sweaty hands tangled with Hoseok’s, Yoongi in the mornings; drenched in sunlight that slips through the blinds, his pink strands mussed and messy, dark eyes hooded and bleary.
There’s Yoongi in his kitchen now; cooking them dinner, reaching for ingredients from cupboards with a swift ease, an apron clinging to his waist and a spatula in his hand. He reaches over to check a pot of boiling vegetables and lowers the heat, humming their track under his breath.
Hoseok just can’t drag his eyes away.
Yoongi must sense his attention because he looks up from where he is chopping a tomato and smiles. Tomato in one hand, knife in the other, a small dusting of flour across his cheek, cream sleeves rolled up to reveal his slender arms. Hoseok’s pulse does a complicated two-step.
“Why are you so pretty,” Hoseok complains. He props his hand under his chin, dragging his chair a little closer to the dining table.
Yoongi laughs, surprised—and that’s another one for the list; the crinkle at his eyes, his gummy smile, a sound that is so wonderfully Yoongi, Hoseok thinks it could bring him back from the dead.
“You’re the pretty one,” Yoongi counters. “Stop distracting me, I’m trying to cook and you’re so…” he trails off, using the hand still holding a tomato to gesture at Hoseok’s general entirety.
“Sure,” Hoseok laughs easily and Yoongi grins before resuming his chopping. Hoseok pulls out his phone and takes a photo of him–another thing that he is slowly beginning to compile. In this one, Yoongi is squinting down at the chopping board, lips parted and candidly beautiful, lit up by the golds streaming through Hoseok’s large windows.
He posts it to his Instagram without really thinking, doesn’t add a caption, doesn’t tag Yoongi and turns off the comments. Then switches his phone off and enjoys the view.
Later, after they’ve eaten dinner and dessert and kissed and washed up together, soapy up to their elbows and taking way longer than they probably should have—later, Hoseok switches on his phone.
In retrospect, turning it off probably wasn’t the best idea.
He has hundreds of notifications; messages, missed calls, voicemails, emails. A groan sits low at the back of his throat and Yoongi blinks at him in question.
“I may have posted a photo of you,” Hoseok explains, “To instagram.”
“Oh,” Yoongi says, shuffling a little closer. “So?”
Whilst Yoongi has a few social media accounts, he is not an active user on them. They had a conversation about it late one night, the room dark and hands entwined, Yoongi admitting that the hate he receives is sometimes overwhelming, that it’s better for him to avoid it completely. Hoseok had understood–the support he himself receives outweighs the hate by far, but even a singular negative comment is enough to dampen his mood, he can’t even begin to imagine how Yoongi must feel.
“It’s sort of–I mean,” Hoseok shows him the photo, he doesn't say anything, but Yoongi’s expression shifts in understanding. It doesn’t take a detective to recognise the nature of it. It’s intimate–Christmas Eve, Yoongi in Hoseok’s kitchen, clearly preparing them a meal.
“I see,” Yoongi says, his brow furrowing in thought. “Is this a bad thing?”
Hoseok smiles fondly at the question and kisses Yoongi’s forehead. “It’s not a bad thing, I just might be in some trouble.”
Yoongi nods cautiously. “Your fans, are they…” he trails off, the unsaid somehow louder than the actual words spoken. Hoseok feels a pang in his chest.
He curls a protective arm around Yoongi’s waist, kissing his scalp fiercely. “It’s not our problem,” he says seriously. “I don’t care what they think. You’re my choice.”
Yoongi’s voice is soft and tentative, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hoseok confirms. “This is ours, nobody can take that away from us.”
Yoongi nods and draws him in for a kiss and their lips meet in a hard of press motion, softening when Yoongi’s tongue brushes across Hoseok’s lip and deepens it. The loud vibration of Hoseok’s phone interrupts them and Hoseok’s curses, low in his throat, breathing heavily. Yoongi whines and Hoseok pecks his lips apologetically, before grabbing his phone and jabbing a finger to accept the call.
“What?” He snaps.
“Damn, hyung,” Taehyung laughs, Hoseok can hear his smug grin through the line, “Did I interrupt a makeout session or something?”
“Literally yes,” Hoseok grumbles.
Taehyung is silent for a few long seconds, “You don’t mean…”
“Literally yes,” Hoseok repeats, humour bleeding into the words now. Yoongi tilts his head in question and Hoseok pulls the phone away from his ear, tapping to put it on speaker. Hoseok mouths one, two, three and right on cue Taehyung’s, “OH MY GOD,” crackles right through the speaker.
“I knew it,” Taehyung yells, “It was the sleepover, wasn’t it? The next day–you’re welcome, by the way. Professionals my ass,” he sounds slightly hysterical, like he’s either intensely laughing or crying. “My dads,” he wails abruptly, and, so yeah, crying it is.
“Taehyungie, not that I don’t love you dearly…” Hoseok starts and Yoongi huffs a laugh next time him, hiding his smile behind his hand.
“Oh, yes, of course, let me leave,” Taehyung rambles. “I won’t tell anyone. Well, the others, maybe. And my parents. Fine, and my sister. I love you both, stay safe, use protection because I cannot become an uncle this early in the–”
Hoseok ends the call in a fit of laughter and Yoongi giggles, dropping his face into Hoseok’s neck.
“He’s adorable,” Yoongi says, grinning.
“He’s a menace,” Hoseok counters, “But yeah. He’s the best.”
He remembers to turn his phone off this time, throwing it carelessly across the couch. Yoongi arches an eyebrow and Hoseok’s shrugs and then he’s pulling Yoongi in and Yoongi is going easily and they’re kissing again, frantic and intoxicating and just–everything, really.
-
“Where’s my tie?” Hoseok mumbles. “I can't find my tie.”
“Hoseok, where is your tie?” Jin calls, “You can’t go up there without one.”
“I don’t know,” Hoseok groans, hopping around his dressing room wearing one sock, “I can’t find my sock either.
“You had hours to get ready,” Jin scolds, “What were you doing?”
“Me,” Yoongi says smugly, looking perfectly poised, his suit pristine and eyes closed as Jimin pats concealer into his skin.
Hoseok smirks in his direction, “You heard him.”
“Ugh,” Jin groans, “You guys are disgusting.”
“They’re adorable,” Taehyung amends, bursting through the door. He shoots Hoseok a cursory glance, “Hyung, why aren’t you wearing your tie? You left it by the heater.”
Hoseok’s eyes light up and he jogs over to the heater, snatching his tie and draping it around his neck. Jin produces a fresh pair of socks seemingly from nowhere and Hoseok gratefully shoves them onto his feet.
“We gotta go take our seats,” Taehyung says, “We’ll be sitting with Joon hyung and Kook. Good luck, we love you, GOOD LUCK.” He kisses both Hoseok and Yoongi on the cheek and Jin does the same, Jimin giggles and hugs them both and then they’re leaving the room in a loud chorus of, “Love-you-good-luck-you’re-the-best-ok-bye.”
The room falls silent, only the draft of the air-con and their quiet breathing to fill the space. Hoseok meets Yoongi’s fond gaze in the mirror. Like this, the glow of the lights reflecting in Yoongi’s eyes with something starlike, the glimmer of shadow dusted across his lids, the small smile pulling at his lips—like this, and like every version of Yoongi, he is breathtakingly beautiful.
“Hi,” Hoseok says softly.
“Seok-ah,” Yoongi greets. He rises from his chair and walks until they are face to face, thumbing absently at Hoseok’s collar and holding up the tie, “Let me?”
Hoseok nods easily and Yoongi gets to work, pulling and knotting until the maroon fabric sits snug against his throat. Yoongi pulls back and admires his handiwork. “How do I look?” Hoseok teases.
“Edible,” Yoongi says. “Gorgeous. I will eat you.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes fondly and pulls Yoongi in for a kiss, their lips brush just-so and he forces himself to keep it light—if they walk onto that stage disheveled and mussed not a person in the audience will have a doubt as to what happened minutes prior.
Their friends most of all.
“Our families are sitting together,” Yoongi says, grinning at his phone. He holds it up to show a picture; their mother’s are grinning happily into the camera, Yoongi’s sister is holding up a peace sign and Yoongi’s father is stoic.
“Adorable,” Hoseok says, “Great practice for the wedding.”
“There’s no wedding until I propose,” Yoongi laughs, shoving his phone into his bag.
“Until I propose,” Hoseok corrects, a hand trailing along Yoongi’s arm.
“We’ll see,” Yoongi says, eyes amused.
Hoseok kisses him a final time and then they make their way out of the room, along a short corridor and up a flight of stairs, before they reach the stage. The curtains are drawn so they are not yet in audience view, the M.C on the other side talking something introductory.
Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and he has the audacity to wink, like Yoongi at the piano doesn’t already kick Hoseok’s mind into overdrive. Hoseok sticks his tongue out teasingly and shifts into his starting position, adjusting his ear piece slightly, heart pounding in his chest.
The M.C laughs around the microphone, “To wish you the warmest welcome into the New Year—Jhope and Agust D, performing their collaborative track, the recipient of the Best Collaboration award, From the Ashes…”
Slowly, the velvety curtains part, revealing them to an audience of thousands. Hoseok knows that somewhere amongst the crowd, his friends are cheering in support. Knows that somewhere amongst the crowd, their families are too. The stage is grounding beneath his feet, Yoongi is behind him at the piano–Hoseok isn’t looking at him, but he has never felt anything more commanding than the weighted intensity of Yoongi’s stare.
A few piano keys start it off, and then the violins come in.
Hoseok gives himself over to the music, to the story, to every second that lead him to this point. He thinks of betrayal, of heartbreak, of loss. Of friendships—rebuilding trust and letting people in, handing your heart over to those who will take care of it. Of first impressions and raw conversations and cotton-candy pink hair and love without an incentive. He thinks of kisses by the piano and breathy sighs on grey sheets, gummy smiles and late night drives, ridiculous disguises at movie theaters and watching the canvas of yellows at sunset.
He thinks of the man who wanted revenge and the man who got something better.
He thinks of the man with a bad reputation and the man with a bottomless heart.
He looks out at the crowd, thousands of lights blinking back at him, like glitter, or stars, swallowed up by the night sky.
It’s a tirelessly practised and carefully executed performance, each step of choreo and press of keys orchestrated perfectly. Yoongi plays a beautiful chord progression, Hoseok flips with effortless grace.
It’s a tirelessly practised and carefully executed performance, but mostly it’s just Hoseok and Yoongi.