Chapter Text
Yoongi feels more than a little cheated thinking about the irony of it all. He’s got a nice face, a nice body, a fat cock and a stellar stroke game. But none of those things seem to matter when it comes to satisfying an omega in heat. All of his glorious virtues disappear into the void and his one shortcoming blows up and occupies the entire room like a fucking elephant.
You see; for an omega in heat, a knot is as necessary as the very oxygen they breathe. And Yoongi— Oh, poor Yoongi— isn’t physically capable of performing that bare minimum task. Try as he might— and he’s tried! God knows he’s tried for as long as he can remember, many years! But despite all his efforts, Yoongi still can not form a knot.
To make things worse than they already are, being incapable of forming a knot has even more percussions than just being rendered incapable of handling an omega’s heat. Let’s add to the mix the fact that a knotless alpha like Yoongi can never impregnate an omega either, never give them the pups they deserve. Unsurprisingly, no one wants an infertile alpha. At least, not in the long run. They’re often reduced to just a quick fuck, if even that, because why not just fuck someone with a knot?
But Yoongi— poor romantic Yoongi— still holds on to some remnants of hope. That he would find someone to accept him for his shortcomings and love him for the way he is. Cherish him the way he would cherish them. With this most sincere yearning nestled in the very depth of his fragile heart, he goes about and tries his hand at love. Only to fail every time, his pride being battered and weathered until it is barely hanging on by a thread.
Today was another one of those days. Another rejection— what number is it now? Ah fuck, Yoongi stopped counting a long time ago.
He's at the bar with his friend Hoseok now, drinking his pain away. The alcohol burns down his throat but the burn of his heartbreak is far worse. Hoseok rubs his back as a means to console him; but the pain remains.
"I'm sorry, hyung," Hoseok says, trying to comfort Yoongi. But it doesn't seem to work and Yoongi just proceeds to down another glass of beer.
"I'm just—" Yoongi groans, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'm just so tired, Hob-ah. At this point, I’ve resigned myself to being alone forever. But the worst part is that it’s not even my fault! This thing —” Yoongi flutters his hands about in the air. “This was not a choice. I can't help any of this—"
"Oh hyung." Hoseok pulls Yoongi into a gentle hug. Yoongi sighs, nuzzling into Hoseok's scent gland and taking a deep whiff. The scent of vanilla slowly fills his senses and puts his mind at ease. It's always so soothing to scent Hoseok. Though he is an alpha, Hoseok’s scent is sweeter than most omegas; healing in a way that helps Yoongi relax.
"I just don't get it," Hoseok grumbles. "There's so much more to an alpha than just a knot. You're such a catch, hyung. It's their loss for letting you go."
Yoongi smiles at the obvious indignation in Hoseok's voice, nuzzling even further into his scent gland and inhaling shakily. There’s a lump in his throat and a familiar sting at the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, but an alpha truly is only as good as his knot, Hob-ah," Yoongi whispers. "I’m just a failure of an alpha who can’t even do the bare minimum to keep an omega around. Nothing more than defected goods—”
“Hyung, don’t talk about yourself that way!”
“But it’s true!” Yoongi growls against Hoseok’s neck, shuddering as he tries to calm his frayed nerves. When he speaks, his voice is high pitched and broken. “What omega in their right mind would want an alpha who can not knot them? I would be of no help during their heats. I could never impregnate them and provide them with a family of their own.” Yoongi tips his head up and fixes Hoseok with a melancholy gaze. “You’re an alpha; you would know just how much an omega appreciates your asset.”
"Oh." Hoseok clears his throat awkwardly. A heavy silence settles between them and Yoongi's eyes slowly droop down. Before they fully peel shut, Hoseok stutters out, "I uh— I don't knot omegas, hyung."
Yoongi scrunches his brows together, peering at Hoseok in confusion. "What do you mean you don't knot omegas? Are you a virgin—?"
"No, absolutely not!" Hoseok squeals, looking so appalled at the assumption that Yoongi can't help but break into a small smile.
"I meant—" Hoseok coughs into his fist, turning toward Yoongi looking up at him. "I meant that I don't fuck omegas. I get fucked by them." Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock and he pulls away from Hoseok as if he’s been electrocuted. But Hoseok isn’t done talking yet. “But uh— To be honest, I much rather prefer getting fucked by alphas instead.”
Huh?! What the fuck?
Yoongi stares at Hoseok with his mouth hanging open. His head reels with a dozen thoughts, trying to piece together the fragments of what Hoseok has just said to him and make sense of it. Hoseok just said that he likes being fucked instead of doing the fucking. Which isn’t so bad. There are lots of alphas who are into that sort of thing, although Yoongi can’t really relate. He even knows a few omegas who prefer to top exclusively, like Seokjin. It’s no biggie.
No, the
biggie
is the fact that this is
Hoseok
. His childhood friend, the only person who’s been a part of his life since the beginning of time. It’s weird to hear about this aspect of Hoseok’s life. It’s also weird that he’s only hearing about it now— Oh great, now he’s going off into a confused spiral about why Hoseok didn’t care enough to share his sexual preference before.
“Oh.” Yoongi says lamely. “I uh— I didn’t know that. You never told me—”
“You never noticed,” Hoseok answers. Yoongi whips his head around, chest squeezing with something akin to guilt. And annoyance. This is too much information for him right now, especially on a night as shitty as this one. Yoongi has enough on his plate with his own failure without having to absorb this new change. This new side of Hoseok that he needs more time to get acclimated to.
“Oh, so now I’m supposed to just magically know that you like taking it up the ass, huh?” Yoongi grits out. It’s more savage than he means it to be, but he’s half drunk and fully heartbroken so he gathers that gives him a free pass to be an asshole. If he were capable of more rational thought, he’d probably consider that Hoseok might be referring to how Yoongi’s never noticed him going out with other alphas. But he’s clearly not in the most stable mindset right now— far from it, actually. “It’s not a big deal,” Yoongi huffs out, irritation prickling his skin. “You could’ve just told me.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, picking up his glass of water and taking a sip. “You’re being all weird about it already—”
“I’m not being weird,” Yoongi scoffs, bile rising up his throat. “Just surprised. And offended.”
“What—?”
“It’s as if you didn’t tell me because you see me the same way as everyone else.” Yoongi knows that he’s just being petty now. But he’s hurting and he’s scared and he’s— he’s just a big fucking mess. “You like getting fucked by alphas but you coincidentally don’t tell your best friend who is an alpha? Because he’s dysfunctional? ‘Cause you need a knot to get off just like everyone else?”
Hoseok doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Yoongi, jaw clenched tight and ticking with annoyance. The only sign that he’s upset is the sour note his scent takes. Pungent and distressed. As if he’s heartbroken.
“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, Hob-ah.” Yoongi groans, reaching to gather Hoseok into his arms, guilt piling on when Hoseok doesn’t offer any kind of resistance; as if he’s forgiven Yoongi for everything. “Sorry for being such an asshole,” Yoongi continues, carding his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, the way he knows helps relax him. Hoseok makes a gruff sound, something like a suppressed grunt. “I— I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. I’m sorry, Hob-ah.”
“It’s okay,” Hoseok says, nuzzling into Yoongi’s neck and mouthing against his scent gland in a means to comfort him. “I should’ve told you before. You had a rough day today, hyung. I never meant to make it rougher.”
“Hob-ah, no, you—”
“Just so you know, I didn’t keep it from you because you’re defective . Hyung, I would never think of you that way. You are—” Hoseok swallows harshly, exhaling against Yoongi’s pulse point and making him shiver. Hoseok looks up at him, eyes glossed over as he whispers, “I didn’t tell you because I care about you so much. And I was so scared you might start to hate me for the way I am.”
“Hob-ah—” Yoongi’s throat clogs up with emotion and he gently cups Hoseok’s cheeks, smiling when Hoseok noses against his palm. “I care about you too. And I would never judge you. The same way you’ve never judged me through all these years.”
“I know, hyung.” Hoseok presses a soft kiss against Yoongi’s wrist, leaving a warmth in the wake of his lips. “And for the record, I was always one hundred percent honest with you. Knots aren’t everything. At least for alphas like me. We can’t even take knots anyway, so—”
Huh? Yoongi’s brows shoot up in surprise. He didn’t know that before. To be fair, he’s never really considered alphas being with other alphas before so it’s not like he knew what to expect.
“Is— Is that so?” Yoongi clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. It’s weird talking to Hoseok about all this. But it shouldn’t be weird at all, considering how Yoongi always shares intimate details of his own sex life on the daily.
“Yeah, alpha bootyholes don’t stretch like that.” Hoseok giggles, oblivious to the turmoil in Yoongi’s mind. He grabs his glass of beer and takes a slow sip before swirling it in his hand and watching the golden liquid slop around. He turns around to look at Yoongi and stills when he takes in the unsuppressed mixture of panic and curiosity that meets him. “Hyung—?”
“Y— Yeah?” Yoongi stutters out, clearing his throat as a wave of mortification washes over him. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks all the way to his neck. What in the world? Pull yourself together, Min Yoongi!
“Yeah,” Hoseok replies, but his voice is softer than usual, breathy. It’s probably the alcohol, Yoongi tells himself. Hoseok always did have a low tolerance. Yeah, that’s it. “It uh—” Hosek continues, voice raspy and thick and— God, there’s sweat starting to bead on Yoongi’s neck. Why is it suddenly getting so hot in fucking winter?! Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “It hurts when they start to knot. I uh— I don’t like it that big.”
Fuck —
Everything feels suddenly too much for Yoongi. It’s like the air is on fire, burning against his flesh and making him want to peel himself out of his own skin. He should’ve never asked— he doesn’t even remember how they got to this train of conversation, why they’re talking about this. About Hoseok. About how tight Hoseok must be, how small and delicate. Yoongi wonders if he’d be pliant—
“Okay,” Yoongi coughs out, grappling for his drink and chugging it down. “That makes sense. Sounds good, Hob-ah.”
A small hum and a shuffle beside him is the only clue that Hoseok acknowledges him. Yoongi doesn’t turn around for quite a while after that; he just continues to stare into his glass, wallowing in his own awkwardness and cursing the reflection on top of the golden liquid.
*****
“Why am I here, Hob-ah?” Yoongi groans, shuffling about awkwardly as he tries to make himself disappear into the backdrop. “You know I hate clubs.”
“Relax, hyung,” Hoseok giggles, patting his shoulder casually as he scans the crowd. “This one’s not that high profile. Look! There’s like twenty people in the house. Come on!”
“There are so many other ways I imagined spending my Friday night. Better ways— quieter ways!” Yoongi mumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and following behind Hoseok. They weave through the crowd— there’s definitely more than twenty people in here! Hoseok, you absolute liar! — and reach the bar table, ordering some shots.
“What other ways? Watching old Netflix reruns on the couch?” Hoseok giggles before throwing it back and smacking his lips at the sharp taste. “Ahh! That hits the spot!” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cheeks already flushing a soft pink. “Come on, hyung! Let’s get you all loosened up. Have some fun tonight.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue, downing his shot without much enthusiasm. He knows why they’re here. It’s because he’s been moping all week, a perfect melancholy picture of heartbreak. This is Hoseok’s way of trying to cheer him up. They do it all the time, a familiar routine for them over the years. Every time Yoongi has the post break up blues, Hoseok swoops in like his knight in shining armour, ready to piece him together through whatever fun quirky method he deems suitable for helping him heal. From amusement park trips (often ending with them just riding the ferris wheel ‘cause Hoseok’s scared of rollercoasters) to trekking (which turns into picnics because the view is always nice when Hoseok is beside him) to on the spur vacations (where they always rent a single room and Yoongi has the best sleep ever when he spoons Hoseok in his arms) to dance clubs like the one they’re at today. It’s not that Yoongi’s into any of these things. No, in fact, it would even be safe to say that he’s quite averse to some of them. But maybe it’s because he’s with Hoseok that he sees everything in rose tinted glasses; everything becomes fun and all his troubles just magically disappear for a short while. For as long as Hoseok is with him, at least.
It’s because they’re best friends. Yoongi swipes the lemon across his tongue, allowing the sourness to ground him. It’s because they’re best friends. Yoongi iterates that over and over in his head, sucking at the sour slice, too distracted to even wince at the sharp tang.
“Let’s go dance!” Hoseok throws his hands up in the air and wiggles his shoulders in glee. There’s a soft flush to his cheeks, glossy with the hit of alcohol. He’s pretty, the way he always is. But something’s different tonight. Different in a way that Yoongi doesn’t want to ponder on.
“Hob-ah~” Yoongi whines, reluctantly pulling himself up to his feet and allowing Hoseok to tug him towards the dancefloor. “I’m just gonna make a fool out of myself. You know I can’t dance for shit.”
“Everybody can dance, hyung,” Hoseok replies. His words slur in the most charming way; there’s something absolutely endearing about the way he gets drunk so easily. “Just move around to the beat of the music,” Hoseok continues. “Just dance.”
“The music fucking sucks,” Yoongi murmurs. But he’s loathe to deny Hoseok, his body already shimmying awkwardly as he tries to match the rhythm of the rather outdated EDM number.
A peal of laughter brings his attention back to Hoseok. Hoseok has the biggest smile on his face, all heart shaped with his teeth on display, eyes scrunched up. A pang of misplaced wistfulness shoots straight through Yoongi’s chest. He shakes his head and attempts to dance in place, anything to distract himself from that nagging voice in his head that just won’t quit.
Hoseok starts dancing too. Silly, goofy, over-the-top moves that make Yoongi feel like less of a fool himself. They just stand there in their own little bubble on the dancefloor and it’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t matter. Everything ceases to exist, except for Hoseok and Yoongi. All of Yoongi’s troubles vanish into the background noise. His mind is filled with nothing other than Hoseok’s smile and the clammy warmth of his palm.
Of course, every bubble must pop at some point. The floor gets populated in waves, batches of people spilling into the space around them and pushing them closer together. Some even invade their space, creeping between them and trying to dance in tandem. Yoongi sighs, already a little exhausted as he tries to keep a straight face when a certain omega slides up beside him, running her perfectly manicured hands down his chest, before hovering around his crotch. His lips part in surprise, a heat pooling in his groin at the action. He’s only an alpha; biologically programmed to get turned on by an omega’s advances.
A small chuckle in front of him brings his attention to Hoseok; he’s smirking at Yoongi, eyes twinkling even under the dim lights of the club— something like disco balls in their own right. Yoongi swallows, watching Hoseok turn around and continue to dance, swaying his hips seductively as he rides the music. It’s always been hypnotising, the way Hoseok moves like water that cascades unendingly. Even tipsy on a third rate club floor, he somehow makes every move look effortlessly elegant and captivating, as if he’s doing a recital.
Yoongi’s brought out of his senses when he notices that he’s frozen again. The omega’s looking at him in disdain, perfectly groomed eyebrows quirked up as she gives him a once over before flipping her hair and leaving. Yoongi feels almost apologetic for not entertaining her, but he’s just really not in the mood. He turns around to go back to Hoseok, maybe get him to leave. But before he can even form any coherent thought, his mouth hangs open at the sight before him.
Hoseok’s still dancing— of course he is. But this time, he’s dancing with another alpha. It’s intimate the way they move together, chest to chest, a feather’s width apart. Hoseok has a heady look on his face, lips parted, tongue coming out to lick at his lower lip every so often. If Yoongi didn’t know better, he’d say Hoseok looks turned on. The alpha he’s dancing with is definitely turned on though, no doubt about that. His jaw is clenched and his hands claw at Hoseok’s hips in a vice grip, large hands almost encompassing the narrow width of Hoseok’s hips. Yoongi swallows, wondering what it would look like if his own rather large hands were wrapped around Hoseok instead.
A small gasp permeates the air and Hoseok turns around, his back against the alpha’s chest. And then he grinds against the man’s cock, eyes clenched shut, lower lip tucked between his teeth. A picture of delectable sin. Yoongi can only stare, jaw ticking, chest smarting with how long he’s holding his breath. He can not bring himself to do anything, even as Hoseok moves his hips, rocking them from side to side, up and down, grinding against the alpha’s cock. Said alpha has his hands wrapped possessively around Hoseok’s waist, pressing him closer, almost as if he’s trying to hoist him up and fuck him just like that.
It’s not the first time Yoongi’s watching Hoseok dance with an alpha— after all, Hoseok dances with everyone all the time. And he’s equally shameless with them too, regardless of subgender. But this is the first time Yoongi’s noticing just how attractive Hoseok is— just how fuckable he is.
Hoseok is different from all the other alphas. Softer, smaller, prettier— But he wasn’t any of these things before. Or maybe he was and Yoongi’s just never noticed this side of him before. Not before they had that conversation. Not before Hoseok said he likes to get fucked by alphas, take their cock. Not before Hoseok said he likes alphas but doesn't care for their knots. God, Yoongi already knows he’s projecting. He’s already sinking into the spiral, a dozen unwanted thoughts swimming around in his head, along the wavelength of how maybe, he has a chance with someone like Hoseok— no, maybe he has a chance with Hoseok himself.
It’s all the wrong things to crave. But he’s already a bit intoxicated, stranded here on the dance floor, looking straight at the object of his current obsession. The lights illuminate Hoseok’s features like a kaleidoscope and make him look more beautiful than anyone has a right to. At this moment, a small seed of longing plants itself inside Yoongi’s heart.
As if sensing his gaze, Hoseok turns around. Their eyes lock in an electrifying way, the kind that Yoongi’s only heard of in mushy movies that he doesn’t even like to watch. He’s breathless and has too much air to breathe, all at the same time. It’s euphoric in the most suffocating way. He inhales, watching Hoseok’s eyes flash with new understanding. He knows; he always could see right through Yoongi.
But contrary to whatever Yoongi thought his reaction would be like, it’s the complete opposite. Hoseok doesn’t look disgusted or awkward or terrified or anything that Yoongi would deem an appropriate response. No. Hoseok’s grip in the alpha’s hair tightens— Yoongi had almost forgotten about his existence, so this serves as quite an unpleasant reminder. But that hardly even matters at the moment. Because Hoseok is looking at him— at Yoongi .
If Yoongi’s guessing right, then the look in Hoseok’s eyes is something like curiosity. He throws his head back against the crook of the other alpha’s neck, lips parted seductively, eyelashes batting as he gives his best come hither look. Watching Yoongi. Swaying his hips from side to side as he grinds back. Baiting Yoongi.
And Yoongi— Yoongi doesn’t know what to do. Suddenly, he doesn’t know how to move his hands, his legs— anything . He just stands there, frozen in space and time, watching Hoseok grind filthily against a stranger, and wishing it was him instead.
*******
They don’t talk about it afterwards. They just walk back home once the song ends, pretending like everything’s the same. Hoseok’s still a bit tipsy. But he doesn’t lean into Yoongi’s space like he usually would. He’s more reserved tonight, keeping a respectable distance. As if he’s scared of touching Yoongi. Which is nuts because he’s usually so physical, all warm hugs and sweet nuzzles. Yoongi pretends he doesn’t notice though. He pretends like everything’s the same. Even though it’s not.
They manage to catch a cab. Any other time, Hoseok would be all over Yoongi, giggling and toppling onto him. But not tonight. Tonight, the two of them sit at opposite corners of the back seat, looking outside at the passing night scenery.
There’s a part of Yoongi that hopes the sudden awkwardness is a one time thing. That Hoseok will forget everything that happened that night— that Yoongi will get over it himself and everything will go back to normal. But there’s another part of him— a bigger one, buried deep inside the vestiges of his sorry soul— that hopes for a change. He swallows, looking out at the night scenery and trying not to think about it.
“Hyung?”
Hoseok’s voice interrupts Yoongi’s thoughts, making him almost jolt out of his skin. He clears his throat and turns around, humming in question. It’s hard to look Hoseok in the eye when he’s staring straight at Yoongi with such a serious expression, lower lip caught between his teeth. The atmosphere is somehow daunting and exciting at the same time.
“Did you— Did you have a good night?” Hoseok asks lamely, sheepish smile plastered on his face.
“Mmhmm.” Yoongi nods in affirmation before he rubs his chin, feigning indifference. “You know I don't do clubs and dancing and all that.” Hoseok opens his mouth, as if to protest. But he doesn’t get to say anything before Yoongi cuts him off immediately. “But I like hanging out with you,” he says plainly. “It’s always fun when I’m with you, Hob-ah. You’re my best friend.”
“Oh hyung,” Hoseok whispers, smile turned up a thousand watts. “I have fun with you too.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi teases, index finger on his chin as he pretends to think. “Looked to me like you were having more fun with that other guy you were grinding against.” Yoongi peels his eyes open, ready to be met with a flustered Hoseok, maybe even poke some more fun at him, make him squirm and whine the way he usually does when he’s embarrassed— always so cute!
When he finally looks at Hoseok, though, he’s taken aback by the entirely foreign expression on his face. Eyes glazed, tongue slowly swiping across his lower lip, lashes fluttering prettily. Yoongi’s smile drops like a stone, his breath catching in his chest as he tries to process what’s going on.
“I wasn’t—” Hoseok gulps audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the action— it’s weirdly sensual; Yoongi wishes it wasn’t so distracting. “I wasn’t having more fun with him,” Hoseok continues, still not meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He bites into his lower lip, hard enough to leech it white. Something strange settles into Yoongi’s mind, a yearning to reach over and thumb at Hoseok’s lips, free them from his teeth, trace their wet periphery—
“I was looking at you, hyung.” Hoseok groans, immediately covering his face with his palms, and shaking his head fervently. Yoongi’s heart nearly shoots straight out of his rib cage, his blood flowing straight to his chest and making him feel suffocated.
“I was doing it for you,” Hoseok says, voice so soft, so embarrassed, so vulnerable that Yoongi nearly reaches out and peels his hands away from his face. But he doesn’t— he’s frozen in place with shock; he can hardly trust himself to act in this circumstance.
“I was doing it to get your attention.” Hoseok isn’t done yet. “Put on a show just for you, hyung. ‘Cause you were— you were looking at me like you—” Hoseok’s fingers part the slightest bit and he peers at Yoongi through the spaces. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, ironic considering he’s admitting all of this on his own volition. “You were looking at me like you wanted me.”
Yoongi gasps, low and guttural. His head pounds, a dozen montages playing behind his retinas. Hoseok’s eyes locked with Yoongi’s as he grinded against the alpha in the club. The way he never once looked away— never looked at anyone else except for Yoongi. The way his hips moved. The way the alpha’s hands had wrapped all the way around Hoseok’s waist. The way Yoongi wondered what it would be like to be in his place and be the one to touch Hoseok instead—
“Did you?” Hoseok ponders. His hands hang awkwardly in front of him, as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Did you want me, hyung?”
Yes.
The answer is so easy. Yes— fucking yes ! Yoongi wanted Hoseok more than he has wanted someone in a long long time. But Yoongi’s too scared to admit it. There’s more to it than just wanting to fuck Hoseok’s brains out. It’s not any simple old attraction. No. Hoseok is an alpha and Yoongi’s never been with one more. And there’s more to it. Hoseok is not just any old alpha— he’s Yoongi’s best friend. But most of all, Yoongi doesn’t know why it is that he’s suddenly feeling such a strong sense of attraction towards Hoseok. There’s a small voice in his head that tells him it’s because of what Hoseok said the other day— of course, it’s because of what Hoseok said the other day. About how he’s an alpha that likes to be fucked— likes to take alpha cock like an omega would.
And alphas don’t take knots. So that means, Yoongi has a shot with Hoseok.
But that’s precisely where the problem originates. What if Yoongi is only attracted to Hoseok now that he knows his orientation? What if it’s just some kind of weird fetish? He doesn’t want it to be like that— not with Hoseok. Hoseok is his best friend and he would rather hurt himself than hurt Hoseok in any capacity.
“Hyung?” Hoseok asks, voice soft. Yoongi’s breath catches when he looks into Hoseok’s eyes and sees how vulnerable he is in this moment, scared. Of Yoongi. And with good reason.
“Mmm?” Yoongi croaks out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’re drunk, Hob-ah—” He’s not; he’s not drunk at all, not with eyes as vivid as that. “We can talk tomorrow. Maybe you might even forget it.” Yoongi chuckles awkwardly in a cover to dismiss everything, to play it down. To break Hoseok’s heart.
“Look,” Yoongi forces the words out, blinking so that his eyes don’t sting. “We’ve almost reached your place.”
Luck is on his side, it seems, as the cab takes that moment to park in front of Hoseok’s apartment. The street light blinks ominously; Yoongi wonders if they’re ever going to fix the damn thing. He turns around and gets out of the car, jogging around to the other side and pulling Hoseok’s door open for him; he just wants to make sure Hoseok will be stable on his feet, just wants to give him a shoulder for support.
“I’m fine,” Hoseok brushes him off, head hanging low as he smoothly walks past Yoongi. He tugs out a wad of cash from his pockets, before bending down and shoving them into the driver’s face. “That’s my share,” he whispers, before turning back around and hurrying up the stairway to his apartment. He doesn’t look at Yoongi once, doesn’t spare even the smallest glance his way.
It crushes Yoongi to know that in place of the new attraction that bloomed between them the other day, there is now resentment and hostility; and that it’s his fault— he’s the one who fucked things up. Before, back in the club, he was the one who looked at Hoseok first. Right now, when Hoseok was being honest with him, he fucked up and ruined everything. Watching Hoseok drag himself up the stairs, shoulders slumped in dejection, Yoongi can only watch and rot in his own guilt. It’s all his fault. He screwed everything up.
When the engine whirrs to life and the cab slowly pulls out, Yoongi has half a mind to fling himself out of the door and chase Hoseok back home. Apologise a million times over and beg for his forgiveness. Tell him how much he cares about him and cherishes him and if he’d be okay with it, that could transcend just friendship—
Yoongi shakes his head, exhaling on a hiss as he throws his head back and tries to clear his thoughts. Listening to the pitter patter of the raindrops against the hood of the cab, a perfect backdrop for his current mood.
To be continued...