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All I ever wanted (Was a part of you that I couldn't break)

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i.

It’s been a week already and Kim Namjoon is still getting on his nerves.

“Come on, it’s just one date,” Namjoon desperately tries to get his attention but Yoongi doesn’t budge, shows he’s above the petty request by flipping through the next page. “You’re going to love him.”

Yoongi flips to the next page, foot tapping lightly against the floor.

“He’s a photography major but he and Jimin had one class together,” Namjoon gestures, eyes certainly pleading now for Yoongi to hear him out. He drags his chair to the middle of the room, sets it down in front of Yoongi and plops himself down, already steeling himself for the long one-sided battle ahead. “And I met him last week and he’s pretty sane!”

It’s an unusual way to describe someone and Yoongi’s eyes dart quickly to Namjoon then back to his book, Namjoon seeing the reaction quickly assuming it for interest.

“Jimin’s already gotten him to agree with it,” Namjoon inches closer, hand snatching the book out of Yoongi’s hands.

Yoongi stares at his empty hands now and then slowly levels his gaze on Namjoon who’s looking extremely too smug for his liking.

“Then tell Jimin to tell the guy I’ve died,” Yoongi says very simply as he pulls the book out of Namjoon’s hold, but not before he thumps Namjoon’s head with it. “Or some other excuse befitting of a college student backing out of a date,”

Namjoon groans, hands going to his head, fingers clutching at his hair in a dramatic overreaction to Yoongi’s words, “Come on, you’ve been cooped up in the dorm for ages now and just last month you were whining about a dry spell – “ He gets another thump on the head, this time much harder. “You’re so stressed and we, your amazing group of friends who have also evolved to become your support group, think a date won’t hurt.”

Yoongi knows a date won’t hurt, he also knows that if he wanted to date around then he would’ve already gone on one and not have waited for his friends to set him up with a stranger who might be a complete imbecile.

“You guys will hit it off, he’s into all the kinda weird things you like,” To put much more emphasis on his words, Namjoon grabs a small painting that was propped on the wall, and shoves it to Yoongi’s face, who abruptly leans back. “You like these weird ass artsy shit and he does photography so he probably appreciates these kinda things,”

He’s not entirely sure what he’s done in his past life to be stuck with this idiot but he assumes it must’ve been extremely terrible, befitting the fifth circle of hell.

Yoongi takes the painting away from Namjoon – it wasn’t weird at all, it was beautiful and Namjoon hasn’t an eye for these things. – and sets it back in place against the wall.

Being an art major meant that he was open to all forms and kinds of art, but that isn’t the only thing that makes Min Yoongi a brilliant student in his field. He’s talented, sure, but what sets him apart from most of the more pretentious art students is that he’s got the ability to transfer emotions into his art, depicting them in such a realistic way that it brings the viewer to feel so immensely and intensely. Once, during an art exhibit his sophomore year, his only painting displayed brought people to tears, some gasping the second they came upon it. To say Min Yoongi is a talented student is to underestimate his prowess for transforming the emotions that twisted inside of him into works of art that speak for themselves, evident in his paintings.

So he doesn’t take Namjoon’s playful jab very well but he’s used to his friends not knowing a thing about art already that he just lets the comment slide.

“Stop with the whole tormented artist thing. Don’t you actually have to get your heart broken to be heartbroken?”

That’s it, that’s the last straw. Yoongi knows he’ll regret the decision but Kim Namjoon has not shut up about the stupid fucking blind date and it has been a week already and god damn Min Yoongi if all he wants right now is to hold on to the last remaining strands of his sanity.

“Alright, shut the fuck up already,” Yoongi pulls on the top of his nose in an effort to not blow up anymore and possibly cause bodily harm to a very annoying best friend. “Okay, I’ll go to the damn date, just shut up.”

Namjoon’s eyes are wide with surprise and he opens his mouth to exclaim how Yoongi’s made the best possible choice he’s ever made in his life (an over exaggeration, god, Namjoon’s being too damn dramatic, Yoongi muses, he should probably stop hanging out with Taehyung so much.).

Yoongi gives Namjoon a look that reminds him he needs to shut up now, leaving Namjoon with a mouth open but unable to utter a single word. He settles on two thumbs up and a toothy grin that makes Yoongi regret his decision.

So much for a strong iron resolve.

--

ii.

He dreams of nails digging into his skin, of hands tousling his hair, and a pair of lips gently grazing against his neck. And then the dream shifts and he’s lying on a bed that catches on fire, the culprit standing just beyond the wall of fire, a twisted smile playing at his lips.

Yoongi wakes up gasping, forehead beaded with sweat and fingers clutching at the sheets. He doesn’t know what to make of his dream. What started out so sensual, so intimate, had ended so harshly.

It takes him a couple of minutes to get out of bed, his mind running the dream a dozen more times, trying desperately to hold on to it and not let it escape to be forgotten.

He grabs a sketchbook from the bedside table and immediately begins drawing, the dream sketched out in fragments, his quick strokes filling up the blank pages immediately. Yoongi doesn’t know what to make of it but the last song he listened to last night was “I set fire to the rain”, so it might have something more to do with that than anything.

Setting the sketchbook aside and finally putting his mind at ease, Yoongi gets out of bed just as the door to the room opens, the smell of coffee and toasted bread immediately fills their cramped room.

Seokjin shoulders his way into the room, both hands occupied with carrying scalding hot coffee.

Yoongi extracts the paper bag under Seokin’s arm and breathes in the sweet scent of freshly baked bread. He accepts the coffee graciously and the two of them fall into their morning routine.

Of all the roommate’s Yoongi has had the misfortune of having, Kim Seokjin is definitely at the top of his least-hated roommates. Of course, Seokjin practically providing breakfast every morning is merely an added bonus. He’s quiet most of the time, although he’s capable of holding rather interesting conversations that are actually stimulating to the brain, the complete opposite of the debates his more incompetent friends constantly have. Yoongi actually likes his roommate and Seokjin doesn’t mind the mess of paper, pencils, paint, brushes, and all other sorts of things Yoongi’s got scattered around the room.

“Good morning,” Seokjin says, raising his cup of coffee in a small toast to another morning. “You look like you’ve had a decent sleep.”

Yoongi takes a sip of the coffee and settles himself on the one couch in the room. “Weird dream,”

Seokjin plops himself down beside Yoongi, a bread in one hand and coffee in the other. “Did you draw it or was it just one of those weird dreams you’d rather never remember, ever again?”

“I tried, but I still don’t get it. But I think it has something to do with the music I was listening to, or some other.” He quickly flashbacks to something Namjoon had said the other night – a dry spell – and his cheeks flush a light tint, light enough that it goes undetected by Seokjin.

“Oh, yeah, I ran into Jimin on my way up and he said to tell you good luck,” Seokjin gives him a sideways glance, curious but not prying at all.

Yoongi knows Seokjin enough that he’s able to talk to him for hours on end without wanting to rip his hair out, so he figures he can just straight out tell him about the date his friends have fixed up for him.

No big deal, it’s probably going to be with a freak and Yoongi’s perfected the art of coming up with the perfect excuses that he’s confident he’ll be able to excuse himself out of a terrible date.

“Wow,” Seokjin says, sounding surprised. Yoongi wonders if it really has been that long since he last went out when his normally quiet and unassuming roommate burst into a chuckle, eyes still wide with surprise and concern for him. “I mean, that’s great, Yoongi. I hope you have fun,”

There’s a pause after that, Yoongi merely nodding at what he’d said.

“Just text me ahead if you need me out of the room,” Seokjin raises his eyebrows at that and Yoongi groans, utterly horrified.

“Oh, fuck no. As if,” He rolls his eyes. “Jimin thinks he’s an alright guy and Namjoon used the word “sane” to describe him. All these terms point out to the guy being a major creep or extremely boring, which really won’t make much for a date.”

Seokjin shrugs, “Well, you never know.”

Unfortunately for Min Yoongi, Seokjin was right because you never know when the world will decide to just fuck with you.

--

iii.

A glance at the clock tells him that he’s ten minutes late to his date already. He curses his friends’ choice of restaurant and why it has to be outside of the campus area. Can’t they just go grab dinner at Subway or some other place? No, of course they can’t, because Namjoon is a god damned drama queen and Jimin has watched too many romance movies to be even considered a normal human being with normal expectations for first dates.

When he gets to the restaurant he remembers that he doesn’t even know what the guy looks like. The only thing his friends had told him was his name – Jung Hoseok – and for some odd reason the name stirs an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He doesn’t have much time to ponder on why because as soon as he steps into the restaurant and chances a glance around, a guy from a table right by the window shoots up and waves to him, grinning.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yoongi says, shrugging out of his coat. He looks at Hoseok again and blanches, finally understanding why he’d felt like a knife had just gutted him. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok stares at him for a few moments before he points and exclaims, “I know you!”

“Oh my fucking god, what the fuck.” Yoongi falls on the chair, his feet giving out. He realises too late that this Jung Hoseok is the same Jung Hoseok he’d met over a year ago and to say their first – and also what he’d thought to be their last – date was a disaster is clearly an understatement.

“Oh shit, this is hilarious.” Hoseok laughs as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“This is a nightmare,” Yoongi can’t find a word adequate enough to describe the situation. Across from him, Hoseok is still laughing, an amused smile on his face. Yoongi thinks chance and circumstance was never on his side and curses his luck. Of all the people his friends set him up with and it’s with this guy.

Sure, he doesn’t just blame Hoseok for the terrible date, the memory a blur – thank god – but it’s coming back slowly to him in vivid sharp details. It’s not entirely Hoseok’s fault but Yoongi did try to salvage that date so he has a right to blame the mess on him.

“I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Yoongi shoots him a rather dirty look, eyes narrowed. “So I’m just gonna leave and we can pretend this never happened.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hoseok says in an effort to try to stop him from leaving. Yoongi shifts in his seat but doesn’t change his mind. “Was it really that bad?”

Did he just – yes, he just did, and Min Yoongi is incredulous. “Halfway into that disaster of a date you asked if I’d go to the washroom with you and when I said no you offered to suck me off if I paid for dinner.”

Hoseok’s cheeks redden, his hands raised against his chest as if it could protect his dignity right now. “In my defence,” He starts, his voice shaking a little bit. “I was kinda high during that date.”

Kinda high?” Yoongi repeats, voice rising dangerously. “You got me drunk after I declined that offer and then – “ He stops, because honestly the memory of it now is making him blush and Hoseok catches the change in his expression, a terrible glint in his eyes.

“Oh shit, so I sucked you off?” Yoongi looks absolutely harassed at this point and people are starting to turn around to look at them. “I did!” He claps his hands together in his own Eureka moment and looks rather pleased with himself. Yoongi wants to melt into a puddle of water and die.

But instead, he says, sounding insulted now, “You don’t even remember?”

Hoseok slinks back into his seat, scratching at his head in thought. “Um, it wasn’t like I’d made you an exclusive offer or anything,”

That’s it. Yoongi shoots up from his chair and grabs his coat, giving Hoseok one last scathing look before he walks off.

Hoseok follows him to the entrance of the restaurant and stops him from going any further, fingers locked around his wrist. “Yoongi, come on,” Hoseok says his name in such a familiar way that it offends Yoongi even more. “Sorry, so many things happened that night.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way that is absolutely not suggestive and just outright disgusting. “Hey, you threw up on me, too!”

Yoongi has forgotten about that one sordid little detail and he refuses to admit it now, just rips his hand away from Hoseok so he could cross it across his chest. “I did not,”

Hoseok is so close to him that Yoongi has to arch his head back so that their noses don’t touch. He thinks of just how absent the concept of personal space is for Jung Hoseok and reminds himself to never come close to him ever again.

“Yeah, you did. And you ruined my perfectly good shoes,” Hoseok fakes a sniffle. “I don’t even remember how I managed to get home that night.”

Neither does Yoongi, but he does remember the both of them agreeing, in their drunken and intoxicated states, of how bad an idea this was and that the other shouldn’t hold their breath waiting for a second date. After their awkward handshake that almost led to something else again, they both walked off to different directions, both of which going the wrong way back to their dorms.

“Okay, whatever. I’m leaving. I hope to never see you again,” Yoongi says, giving Hoseok a onceover.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi wonders if Hoseok has a sense of shame or if he’s really just desperate for company. “I’ll pay for dinner.”

“Why, so I can return the favour?” Yoongi is suspicious and he has every right to be when Jung Hoseok is the human equivalent of slime.

Hoseok barks out a laugh, “Nonsense, a gentleman never expects a favour after a good deed,” He pumps out his chest in a pompous manner that makes Yoongi wish for a sign to fall on his head so this’ll all be over with already. “I mean, you know. It’s a shame to waste a reservation.”

This restaurant doesn’t even take any reservations, Yoongi points out.

“Semantics,” Hoseok drags him back into the restaurant and the only reason Yoongi doesn’t run away calling for the cops is because he’s hungry and the restaurant serves excellent lobster. He’ll just avoid looking up from his plate to look at Hoseok or else all he’s eaten will come crawling up his throat and back on his plate in a totally disgusting manner.

--

iv.

Yoongi wakes up with a headache and an arm around his waist. A quick glance at Seokjin’s bed tells him that his roommate has already left to grab the usual morning coffee. But that still doesn’t explain the arm around him and the leg hooked around his, a nose nuzzling into the back of his neck. He’s positive it isn’t Seokjin because Seokjin’s feet almost touch the edge of the bed and whoever this is hasn’t got really long legs so Yoongi can’t think of anybody else he could’ve dragged into his bed.

His head throbs painfully, eyes closed as he tries to will it away as he racks his brain of what exactly had happened last night.

“Yoongi?” The voice is definitely not Seokjin’s or any of his friends but it’s not an unfamiliar voice. At the sound of his name, Yoongi starts to remember bits and pieces of last night.

He’d eaten lobster with Hoseok who was partly civil and mostly obnoxious throughout dinner and then they’d left the restaurant, going on their separate ways only to bump into each other in the pub nearest the university, and then it all fades to black, the taste of all the drinks he’d taken, shot after shot, burning his throat.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi groans, head in his hands as he realises yet again that he’d gotten drunk with Hoseok and instead of coming home alone, he’d managed to drag the idiot with him. His eyes snap open to check if he’s still got any of his clothes on and he lets out a sigh of relief. The only thing he’d discarded before falling asleep were his socks.

“Good morning,” Hoseok mumbles from his side of the bed as he shifts, his hand around Yoongi’s waist – holy shit, did they sleep like that? – coming to shield his eyes from the sun.

And while Yoongi had only managed to take his socks off, a glance at Hoseok reveals that the boy had taken too many articles of clothing off of him, all except his boxers and his socks.

“Why are you here?” Yoongi gets out of bed and whirls around to look at Hoseok who buries his face under the pillow, relishing in having the bed all to himself now.

“Relax, nothing happened,” Hoseok mumbles into the pillow. “I forgot the key to my room and my roommate was still out and you said I could wait in your room,”

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Yoongi is absolutely floored at how things have escalated so quickly last night that it led to this kind of morning. Granted, nothing had happened but he still shared a bed with him and that’s too close for comfort, if anything.

Hoseok turns to his side, pillow cradled between his head and his hand. “Because I fell asleep,”

Yoongi remembers suggesting that very thing to Hoseok and he also remembers having downed an unhealthy amount of drinks last night so he really can’t blame anyone but himself this time around.

“Why did I drink with you?”

“Hey, you offered to buy me a drink to make up for dinner. And then you bought yourself the next twenty shots that followed,” Hoseok hums rather chirpily so early in the morning and again Yoongi wonders if there’s anything that bothers this boy. He doesn’t look like he’s suffering from a hangover while Yoongi’s sure that the dark circles under his eyes, if possible, had only gotten darker. “You’re a bad drinker,”

“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbles, close to having agreed to it.

Yoongi might be a bad drinker but he’s not a careless one, which still doesn’t explain this whole situation. But then again, hadn’t he gotten into an almost similar situation a year back when he’d skipped around the city drunk, Hoseok’s arm slung around his shoulders? There’s a common factor in both equations that doesn’t do anything for Yoongi’s upset stomach.

Meanwhile, Jung Hoseok rolls around in his bed, cuddling his pillow and bunching up his blanket. This is the oddest and roughest morning Yoongi’s ever woken up to.

The door to the room opens and Seokjin steps in carefully, his eyes doing a quick scan around the room to check if it’s safe for him to come back. He locks gazes with Yoongi who’s looking half dead and at Hoseok who’s still shuffling around in bed. In Yoongi’s bed.

At the sight of Seokjin, though, Hoseok bolts up and points at him, “Kim Seokjin!”

“Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin says in an equally loud voice that threatens to shatter Yoongi’s ear drums.

“Why the fuck,” He mutters, snatching a cup of coffee from Seokjin’s hand.

Seokjin shrugs out of his coat and sets breakfast on their coffee table, “Oh, he dragged you back here last night.”

Yoongi rounds on Hoseok, “You said you forgot your key,”

Hoseok plays off being extremely offended, “I am offended,” He says with a little shake of his head. “I did forget my key and I was supposed to wait here until my roommate came home but then Seokjin turned all the lights off and I just fell asleep.”

“In my bed?”

“Well, we did just go on a date so I thought it would’ve been wrong to have gotten in bed with Seokjin,” Hoseok is on his feet and stretching, stomach going taunt as he does so. Yoongi’s glare wavers at the sight of it so he turns his attention to Seokjin, who’s not looking as bothered by the sudden addition to their morning routine.

Seokjin nods, “He’s got a point.”

“No, he doesn’t. That’s fucked up thinking,” Yoongi almost burns his tongue from practically chugging the coffee down and all this talking is giving him more of a headache but Jung Hoseok is still in his bed getting chummy with his roommate and, god, hadn’t they already gone on a terrible first date a year back? What possessed the universe to pit them against each other again on a blind date? His friends, Yoongi comes to the conclusion, are the main source of this problem.

Hoseok pulls his pants back on as Yoongi stares into the darkness of his coffee, only jostling awake when Hoseok drops down on the couch to sit beside him, a half-eaten bagel in his hand. “Hey, sunshine,”

Yoongi wills for the ceiling to collapse and spends at least ten seconds glaring at it before giving up. For now. “What are you still doing here?”

“You have coffee and bagels, what reason do I have to leave?”

“Because you’re giving me a headache,”

“You gave yourself that headache,” And Hoseok is laughing loudly, immersed in his own thoughts as he sits scrolling through his phone leaving Yoongi to wonder just why he’s even agreed to having breakfast with him.

When afternoon rolls in and Yoongi’s sat in class, Hoseok’s laugh still rings in his ears and while the rest of the boy is the textbook definition of devil spawn, he finds that Hoseok’s  laugh almost sounds pretty. As in, pretty annoying.

--

v.

After that morning, they see each other a couple of times in the cafeteria or in the halls. They’re civil, well, Yoongi is. Hoseok is all large grins and excited waves. Most of the time Yoongi ducks his head and pretends not to know him.

They don’t have any classes together but they’ve got enough mutual friends that are often the reason for them actually hanging out together, company and all.

There isn’t a second date because Yoongi is weak for alcohol but it’s so good and it’s a problem, you see, and Hoseok can’t stop his drinking binge because he thinks a drunk Yoongi is far more relaxed and less stressed. And for some reason, whenever Hoseok is involved, drinks are never too far away. So he says no to alcohol whenever Hoseok asks him if he’d like to go for a drink because 1.) They’re not exactly friends and 2.) Bad things happen whenever he drinks with Hoseok (take for example: them sharing a bed).

So when their friends cancel on them last minute – god damn you Park Jimin and you too, Kim Taehyung – they’re already at the pub and it’s too late to take a turn and just leave. They stare at each other for a second, Yoongi’s fingers still clutching his phone and his mind going seventy miles per minute with just curses for Jimin, but then Hoseok breaks into a sheepish little smile and opens the door for him, and for some unfathomable reason (that’s really not, seriously.) they’re sat at a booth with  mugs of beer in front of them.

“Just one drink,” Yoongi says, taking a sip of his beer. Hoseok gulps down half of it before he even looks up.

“Just because you’re having one drink doesn’t mean I’m abstaining, too,” Hoseok says, a smile on his face. It looks plastered there, almost unnatural. Yoongi doesn’t buy it for a minute.

He takes another swig at his beer before coming out with it, “What’s bothering you?”

He’s right that something’s bothering Hoseok, judging from the startled look on his face, like a deer caught in the headlights. He runs fingers through his hair, messing up what he’d spent an hour styling.

After finishing his first mug, Hoseok finally drops the uneasy look on his face and shrugs, faking nonchalance, “I’ve got to come up with a good concept for my midterm but I’m coming out blank,”

Yoongi calls for another round, in two minutes their empty mugs traded in for more beer.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows, “What happened to only having one drink?”

“Nobody ever means that,” Yoongi says with a snort, eyes rolling. “This is your midterm project for your photography class?”

Hoseok nods, face darkening. “Maybe I should just go for boring still-life that brings people to tears,”

Yoongi thinks he’s rolled his eyes so many times already that he’s starting to worry already. “Maybe,” From what he’s heard from Jimin, Hoseok’s pretty good at his craft. You can’t just point a camera at an object and shoot it and expect for it to come out spectacular. He suspects it takes a good eye and a truck load of passion.

They spend the next three rounds of beer in silence, neither of them bringing up any topic that they could talk about. Yoongi isn’t always one for talking and while Hoseok is usually talking more than he usually listens, he’s awfully quiet tonight, a testament to just how bothered he was.

“Should I just take pictures of flowers or some shit?” Hoseok mumbles into his empty mug.

Yoongi calls for another round of drinks and by now he’s feeling a little bit light headed. Hoseok’s cheeks are tinted a slight pink, his eyes drooping.

“Save yourself the trouble and don’t half ass anything,” Yoongi’s learned enough from his own experiences to say that it’s better if you don’t do anything at all rather than come up with something you’re not wholly dedicated or pleased with. But as an artist, Yoongi’s almost never really pleased with any of the things he comes up with, which explains the numerous blank canvasses and several broken brushes.

“Who’d want to look at a portfolio filled with photos of flowers, anyway?” Yoongi continues, downing half the beer in one swig. “If you say florists or anyone in that kind of field then you’re paying for everything,”

Hoseok, for what seems like the first time after Yoongi had confronted him that night, laughs, a light and nervous little laugh that makes the nerves in Yoongi’s hands buzz. “I have three more weeks to come up with something and if I don’t then I’ll start digging my grave,”

Yoongi raises his mug in a toast, “I’ll help with that.”

They have more beer after that, though, and when the bartender says “last call”, they take that as a sign to stumble out into the cold night, coats pulled closer to them as they start to walk.

Yoongi’s head feels like it’s in the clouds, a little bit buzzed from all the drinks. Belatedly, he chastises himself for drinking so much. Hasn’t he already had this inner turmoil of never drinking with Jung Hoseok again? But here they are in a dimly lit street, Hoseok fumbling around in his pocket for a lighter.

He offers his and watches as Hoseok lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke out in one long stream.

Yoongi leans against the lamp post and lights his cigarette, letting the smoke out in small rings. He watches as they drift higher before slowly fading out and away.

The night is cold and they’re two drunk college students trying to deal with the cold night. It doesn’t help their case that they’re outside when they should be back in their dorms where the heaters work and blankets are in abundance.

Hoseok stares at him the whole time he smokes, eyes half-lidded from the alcohol. His cheeks are red from both the drinks and the cold. Yoongi thinks he must be as flushed, if not more, given his complexion.

“Yoongi,” The way he says his name sounds so familiar that it always does something to Yoongi. He can’t place a certain word to whatever it is but it’s there, it’s something. “Can I follow you around with a camera tomorrow?”

“What the fuck?” Yoongi suspects that his constant profanity in response to everything Hoseok says is automatic already. “Isn’t that just like stalking except you’re asking for permission?”

Hoseok stomps his cigarette out with the sole of his foot, “Nah, there’s just,” Hoseok pauses, lighting his second one. “Something I want to try capturing,” He doesn’t say that he sees a glow inside of Yoongi that he suspects is the start of a fire.

“That’s weird,” Yoongi says, voice low. He thinks about it for a while, imagines what it would be like being trailed around for a whole day by the same guy he had told himself he’d never want to see. But aren’t they out smoking right now after a night of drinks and aren’t things going smoothly, not at all a disaster like their first few times together? Maybe it’s true that people awarded with second chances deserved them. Listening to Hoseok hasn’t got him wanting to stuff his ears and looking at him doesn’t make Yoongi want to knock him out anymore so maybe their constant meetings have caused a shift inside of him that’s now leaning advantageously towards Hoseok. Strange, Yoongi finds that he doesn’t really mind, well, not entirely.

“I’ll try not to be creepy about it,” Hoseok’s standing so close to him that when he exhales, he blows the smoke in Yoongi’s face.

Yoongi returns the favour, but not before he lets the feeling settle inside of him. Smoking was a bad habit he’d picked up his last year in high school. He’s made attempts to try and quit but he doesn’t last very long.

“Don’t make me regret this,” He drops the cigarette and tucks his hands in his coat, watching as Hoseok brightens up with a large smile that Yoongi won’t admit looked as dazzling as the stars that danced and winked just behind the dark clouds.

--

vi.

Hoseok has been staring at him for what feels like an eternity already, his gave heavy. They’d ran into each other at the quadrangle in the afternoon, the morning prior Hoseok had spent just following Yoongi, sometimes taking photos but most of the time just staring blankly at the space beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi’s splayed on the grass, holding a sketchpad and eyes looking at the blank page. Hoseok rolls around in the grass, camera dropping to his chest when he assumes Yoongi’s not going to do anything interesting but stare at a blank page.

The two of them have actually exchanged casual hellos this time as opposed to the usual head nodding. Yoongi stills feels a little bit weird having Hoseok around since they did just go on two-first dates but had never really followed it up, save the occasional drinking session (last night’s, for example). Hoseok asking him if he could follow him around and take pictures of him had been a turning point, Yoongi thinks.

In the back of his mind he wonders how many more turns they have to take until they end up in square one.

Hoseok is still staring and Yoongi’s starting to get a little bit uncomfortable so he fakes inspiration and allows his hand to skirt across the page, pencil making rough strokes.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi muses, eyes focused on the drawing now.

Hoseok has brought his camera up, probably excited now that Yoongi’s actually doing something. “It’s like I’m one of those photographers out in the safari. Just staring and waiting until the lion does something and also kind of hoping it doesn’t notice and attack me,” Yoongi hears a click of the camera and assumes that the lion hasn’t attacked Hoseok but has finally done something interesting after hours of just blankly staring at a blank page.

He’s drawn a rough sketch of someone from behind, bag dangling from his hand. He thinks it’s Namjoon since the bag looks oddly similar to the one Namjoon had been lugging around in the morning. God, just how low is muse that he’s doing sketches of Kim fucking Namjoon? Very low, it seems.

When he lifts his head up it’s to see that Hoseok is staring at him again, but this time through the lens of his camera. Yoongi feels slightly uncomfortable at that, not used to having his photo taken so much. He prefers to stand in the side in group photos and hardly ever takes any himself. There’s an intimate kind of feeling when he locks gazes with Hoseok through the lens of the camera and he feels cold shivers run down his spine. Weird and definitely not something he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about.

There’s another click that’s followed by a soft exhale of breath before Hoseok says, slightly out of breath, “The world kinda stops whenever I look at you,”

Yoongi frowns at his words,  bewildered as he stares at Hoseok oddly while the other boy stumbles on what to say. “I-I mean,” Hoseok fumbles around, cheeks bright red and camera lowered now, “I, um, have this new concept for a shoot and I think you’ll be beautiful for it-“

Yoongi feels his cheeks grow red at that comment and wonders just how badly Hoseok is beating himself up with all his recent outbursts.

Hoseok gathers his camera and stuffs them back in his bag, glancing at Yoongi while he does so, “You know what, that was fucking stupid,” He makes to stand up and Yoongi lets him, watches as he dusts grass off his pants. “Don’t know why I said that, wow, sorry, forget about it, okay?” He sounds absolutely flustered and Yoongi finds it almost endearing compared to how he normally is.

Instead of stopping him, though, Yoongi just shrugs his shoulders, “You’re so weird,” He says with a little snort. “But alright,”

He’s met with an open-mouthed stare, Hoseok stumbling as he stops abruptly to look back at Yoongi. “What?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I said I’ll do it but only if you’re not going to be a complete weirdo about it.”

--

vii.

This is a bad idea, Yoongi thinks the minute he walks into the room. 

This is a bad idea, he thinks again when Hoseok starts to take the photos. 

He's exhausted just trying not to look so tired but Hoseok keeps going on about the lighting and the shades and while the terms are familiar to Yoongi, he still doesn't get how shifting an inch backward and tilting his head slightly to the left will make much of a difference. 

When Hoseok comes too close, fingers brushing past his cheeks to push at his hair, Yoongi thinks that this really is a bad idea. 

--

viii.

He goes through all of the photos he’s taken and every single one of them makes him catch his breath. Hoseok has never found anybody to give him this kind of a reaction and to be blunt, it’s starting to scare him.

He’s only known Yoongi for such a short amount of time that it’s crazy but Min Yoongi has that je ne sais quoi that Hoseok has been struggling to find in his models and subjects. This is the first time he’s seen that glow in somebody else and he wonders if Yoongi is aware that there is a fire in him and if he isn’t then is it okay if Hoseok tells him to never let it burn out?

--

ix.

Yoongi has a fire inside of him and Hoseok can’t exactly capture it but that’s the beauty of someone burning so bright – you’ll be too damn blinded by it that it renders you incapable of the perfect shot.

They’re in an empty art studio and Yoongi’s curled up on the couch just beneath the large windows and while the first part of their session – Hoseok hasn’t found the perfect title for it yet but for now he settles with “Chimerical”, meaning fanciful and merely imaginary. – had just ended.

Hoseok’s about to set his camera aside when he notices Yoongi’s eyes fluttering tiredly, a finger absently twirling on a strand of his hair. He moves closer, doesn’t want to disrupt the moment, and brings his camera back to his eye, fingers moving expertly to adjust the lens.

When he draws closer, Yoongi looks at him from under his lashes and he feels his throat burn with all the words he wants to say to him – you’re beautiful, this light makes you look radiant, you take my breath away. But he swallows them all down, having promised Yoongi not to be weird anymore. So he breathes in deeply as Yoongi lets out a soft sigh. Hoseok doesn’t let his gaze linger on how long Yoongi’s lashes are that they graze dangerously close to his cheeks. It’s absurd for him to think of nothing else but how much he’s entranced by his beauty, but isn’t he a photographer and aren’t photographers supposed to have a good eye for capturing beauty?

So he takes the photo just as Yoongi’s eyes flutter open, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.

Hoseok doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans down on Yoongi to bridge the gap between them and kisses him.

Yoongi’s lips burn through his and Hoseok is afraid Yoongi’s flame will engulf him but he’s always been a warrior and the sun’s always been his best friend so this is practically nothing. But it’s not nothing, it’s Yoongi’s lips on his and it’s a kiss he’s never really felt so intensely for. He asks himself, rather belatedly, how he’d screwed up so bad during their first date or did the alcohol and weed numb his senses completely that it rendered him incapable of feeling the warmth that burned through Yoongi’s skin, his lips, his very being?

--

x.

They don’t start dating or anything, but Hoseok keeps taking pictures of him and every time they finish they end it with a kiss.

It doesn’t feel exactly right but it feels good and Yoongi is soft to touch and when he breathes, low and soft in Hoseok’s ear, Hoseok feels like a star’s light might’ve just gone out from the sky because there’s no other way to explain how Yoongi’s shining so fucking bright.

--

xi.

Hoseok doesn’t like coffee but Yoongi is a caffeine addict so they spend late afternoons together drinking coffee and smoking. Hoseok has a fleeting thought that if he smokes out his feelings, will it still be his lungs taking the hit or will his heart be the one that slowly withers and gives out?

--

xii.

Yoongi’s fingers brush lightly against his knuckles, an absent look on his face. They haven’t shared another kiss since that last week, Hoseok’s project over and midterms passing. But Yoongi’s taken to pulling on Hoseok’s hand and pushing gently against his knuckles, feeling the sharp bones against his, watching as Hoseok sits flustered in front of him, not knowing what to do with his hand.

Hoseok is positive now that Yoongi is out to engulf him in flames, leaving nothing but dust and ashes in his wake.

He breathes in the smoke and thinks that it’s a pleasure to be taken out by one of the universe’s brightest stars.

--

xiii.

When Hoseok’s roommate stumbles in drunk late at night and starts to pull on Hoseok, Hoseok doesn’t stop him, just lets himself be swept away. When he kisses him, there is no warmth, no trace of a fire. But he kisses him back, anyway, because he doesn’t quite like the idea of Yoongi’s sweet taste lingering in his mouth, not when he’s sure that all he tastes like to Yoongi is sour bitterness.

--

xiv.

“You look sick,” Yoongi tells him as he drops sugar into his coffee. “Did you get your grades back?”

Hoseok shakes his head, the farthest thing on his mind are his grades right now. He feels oddly like he’s just betrayed Yoongi, but he hasn’t, not exactly, right?

“Namjoon and the others were wondering if you wanted to join us tonight,”

“Where to?” Hoseok hears himself but isn’t aware of anything right now, not when Yoongi’s looking at him, eyes sharp and almost knowing.

Yoongi shrugs, “Probably just that one pub near campus, is that cool? Or did you have anywhere else in mind?”

“Nah, it sounds perfect,”

--

xv.

It’s absolutely perfect the way Yoongi’s pressed so closely to him, his fingers clutching at Hoseok’s shirt. Hoseok pushes him into a stall and they kiss under the yellow light of the bathroom and it might not be the most ideal place but they’ve both had more than a handful of drinks already and their friends are outside, waiting for them, and what if somebody walks in – it doesn’t matter, not when Yoongi’s kisses taste like fire and Hoseok’s fingers grow colder with every second.

He breaks away from the kiss and tilts his head back, Yoongi’s mouth on his neck the instant they’re apart. Hoseok isn’t sure how he’s still breathing at this point with the trail of kisses Yoongi’s leaving on his neck then down to the dip in his collarbone.

Hoseok runs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, tugs on it gently to bring Yoongi’s attention back at him and Yoongi obliges, meeting him for a kiss that shakes the whole world.

“I really like kissing you,” Hoseok says, eyes shut as his hand searches for Yoongi’s, their fingers lacing together when he grabs hold of it. “You told me not to be weird and I’ve been trying, but I am weird, so,”

Yoongi shuts him up with another kiss, Hoseok only too glad to oblige.

Namjoon stumbles into the restroom and bangs on their cubicle, “Don’t fuck in the restroom, Jesus Christ, have you no shame?”

Yoongi breathes out a long stream of profanity directed to Namjoon, extracting himself out of Hoseok’s hold so he can deal with the pest of a friend.

Hoseok only watches as Namjoon backs away from Yoongi. His back hits the door and he quickly slides out of the restroom when Hoseok steps towards Yoongi, arm going around Yoongi’s waist to draw him to his side.

They leave the restroom like that and are met with applause from their friends, and if Namjoon is feeling any smug, he hides it by chugging all of his beer down.

Jimin and Taehyung are stumbling around their table, ordering for even more drinks, Yoongi taking all of the shots for himself, one after the other that by the end of their fifth round of shots, his cheeks are red and he’s smiling, totally unguarded.

Later that night when Yoongi shrugs out of his clothes, Hoseok stares in complete awe at him until Yoongi wipes the dumbfounded look on his face with a kiss that lingers sweetly on his mouth, Yoongi’s hands busy elsewhere.

--

xvi.

He lies awake for a couple of minutes, foregoing sleep to play with Yoongi's hair instead. Memories of the first time they'd met flashes in his mind and he remembers how clumsy he'd been and how flushed Yoongi was, so unabashed. Hoseok's never really done a lot of things right in his life and that disaster of a date with Yoongi might just be on top of that list, but with Yoongi here now, though, so soft to the touch and unguarded in sleep, Hoseok thinks that some things really do work the second time around. 

--

xvii.

“Good morning,” Seokjin lifts his mug and gives a toast to the sight that lay before him. Yoongi and Hoseok all tangled up under the sheets, Hoseok’s arms clinging onto Yoongi and Yoongi curled into him, hair all messed up and sticking whichever way.

Hoseok is still asleep but Yoongi’s been awake for a couple of minutes now, fingers trailing down Hoseok’s bare chest and watching the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Seokjin interrupts his moment with the slight jeer and Yoongi turns around, making sure not to disrupt Hoseok’s sleeping, to glare at him.

“You’re not looking too intimidating all wrapped up and cute like that,” Seokjin laughs, voice low and soft. It’s still six in the morning on a Saturday and any college student up at this hour is either crazy or Kim Seokjin.

He slumps back down in bed, notices Hoseok’s arm tightening around his waist and shifts to look at him, only to be met with a sleepy smile, “G’morning, I need you to spoil me.”

Seokjin pretends to gag on his coffee but he shuffles 0ut of the room with a final, “Coffee and bagels on the desk. You’re welcome. Don’t touch my bed.”

Yoongi allows himself to look at Hoseok, his mind reeling back to last night’s debauchery. Surprisingly, he doesn’t quite mind, because there’s something about the boy in his bed feeling like he just belongs there. And Min Yoongi has never really been one for sap, but Hoseok’s groggy little smile, the morning sun filtering through the curtains, and their feet tangled under the blanket, makes him want to paint the many different colours that he thinks radiates out of Hoseok.

It feels oddly nostalgic. A year back they were in the very same situation, only this time they’re going to roll out of bed and not walk away from each other. It had been a terrible first date and the second hadn’t gone so well, but who said everything had to go splendidly for things to work?

The only thing Yoongi sort of regrets is his drinking. It’s not Hoseok’s fault, honestly, but he just likes his alcohol a little too much that he just sort of loses it. He notices the marks on Hoseok’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, even, and wonders why the other boy hadn’t left any on him until he turns his wrists around and sees them, looking almost like bruises in the dim light.

Yoongi doesn’t really do casual hook-ups, is the thing. He doesn’t even do blind dates, but sometimes he slips. Looking at Hoseok, hair fanned out on the pillow and eyes closed while a smile rested on his face, his fingers running down Yoongi’s sides in feather light movements, Yoongi is pretty damn sure that this isn’t one of his slip ups. So he moves a little bit closer, hooks his ankle around Hoseok’s leg and peppers kisses down the length of his neck, and thinks that there’s something absolutely beautiful in the way Hoseok’s smile rivals the warmth of the sun.

--

xvi.

Yoongi starts to add more colour to his paintings and maybe it has something to do with the boy who makes him notice that the sky is such a pretty shade of blue, don’t you think? And that the colour of the water in the university’s lake is a beautiful kinda green, seaweed? Sometimes Hoseok is absurd but he points out a lot of things that Yoongi hasn’t really noticed – or never wanted to look twice at, and now that Yoongi does notice them, he finds that he does have a sort of tiny little sense of appreciation buried inside of him.

So Yoongi paints the sky in vivid shades of blue and wonders if he could recreate the colours shining in Hoseok on canvas.

--

xix.

Their friends ask just what’s happening, are you guys dating, or what? Yoongi doesn’t have the specific answer for that but the thought of Hoseok touching someone else makes his fingers twitch, his pencil skirting over the page and ruining his sketch. But Hoseok isn’t the type you could bind, and Yoongi’s not the type to force someone, so they don’t really talk about what they are but instead just spend time with each other.

 

--

xx.

“What does ‘Chimerical’ mean?”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you called your midterm piece?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” A short little laugh. “Just some random word I found. It sounded nice,” Hoseok doesn’t quite meet his eyes when he leans in to kiss him, their knees knocking against each other.

--

xxi.

Hoseok takes a lot of photos but only when Yoongi isn’t really looking.

Yoongi mixes a hundred different colours together in an effort to try and paint Hoseok’s laughter. 

When Hoseok asks why his paintings are all shades of orange and yellow, Yoongi just shrugs his shoulders and excuses it with a pointed, “Favourite colours.”

“Are artists supposed to have favourite colours?” Hoseok nudges his shoulder, looking up at him with a curious little smile.

Yoongi’s never really had a favourite colour but Hoseok feels so warm that Yoongi’s started to associate orange and yellow with him.

--

xxii.

“You wanna go out to dinner? There’s this new restaurant a couple blocks out,” They’re in the quad and Yoongi’s sketching some vague arrangement of flowers – he saw a girl walking around with a bouquet earlier and it just stuck with him – when the question breaks his concentration.

They’ve never really done dinner outside of the campus that the idea of one in an actual restaurant puts Yoongi a little bit on edge. Noticing his expression, Hoseok lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes his head, an action Yoongi is quite familiar with already as Hoseok’s way of hiding his disappointment.

“Never mind, I just remembered I had an essay due tomorrow,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we can do it some other time,” And then Hoseok smiles, but it’s a stiff smile that betrays the unease he feels. Yoongi leans towards him to press a soft kiss at the edge of his jaw and watches, drawing back, as Hoseok’s smile softens, this time for real.

--

xxiii.

This time it’s Seokjin who asks if they’re dating.

Yoongi doesn’t know the answer to that so he just shrugs.

“Is that okay?”

It doesn’t feel quite right, not knowing what they are, exactly, but Hoseok’s fingers fit the spaces of his and for now, Yoongi will settle with that. “It works,”

--

xxiv.

They don’t see each other for a little while because Yoongi’s busy trying to come up with anything for his fucking mixed media class, not to mention art history is starting to really get on his nerves already. So they settle for texts until Yoongi gets so busy he stops replying after the third day and Hoseok, tired of the radio silence that greets him, doesn’t bother to text anymore.

He bumps into Hoseok one morning, almost spilling his coffee.

Hoseok looks surprised but not at all concerned that Yoongi’s almost splashed hot coffee on him.

It’s been a while, Hoseok says, a week or something? Yoongi can’t even tell how long it’s been, the constant lack of sleep and extreme stress weighing him down. So he just says “yeah” and nods along to whatever Hoseok says.

They don’t touch or anything like that, don’t even kiss, but Hoseok does smile at him and says it’d be nice if Yoongi wasn’t so busy anymore and Yoongi says “yeah” again but he smiles back, feels a little bit lighter.

I miss you, is what Yoongi forgets to say.

I miss you, rests unsaid on the tip of Hoseok’s tongue.

That night, Yoongi foregoes working on the disaster that’s his mixed media project and instead starts to paint. He paints a dark shadow against a fiery red sky that’s dotted by blue stars. He closes his eyes, remembers the smile on Hoseok’s face and wonders just how oddly similar it was to the glint of the stars.

He’s never really settled for anything so why is his heart so heavy with longing for a boy that isn’t even really his? Someone explain how his paintings have made use of bright colours and warm undertones ever since he’d kissed Hoseok.

Min Yoongi is a fighter and he suspects Jung Hoseok might just be a warrior behind the wide smile and bright eyes.

So he steps away from the painting and goes back to his mixed media project, the sooner he finishes the sooner he’ll get to see Hoseok.

--

xxv.

Yoongi wakes up to a series of loud knocking. It’s sometime in the afternoon, Seokjin’s in class, and Yoongi’s overslept but he still doesn’t appreciate the all too late wake up call. When he opens the door, he’s surprised to find Jimin, cheeks red and looking a little bit out of breath.

Jimin pushes his way inside the room and locks the door behind him, all weird and suspicious.

“Uh,” Yoongi starts, not quite understanding. “What’s going on?”

“Are you and Hoseok, y’know, dating?” Jimin almost whispers the last word and it sort of makes Yoongi want to laugh with how he’s being so cautious when no one else is in the room with them.

Yoongi yawns, shrugs his shoulders, and falls back down on the bed. “I don’t know, I’m not sure.” His words sound weird even to him so it’s not a surprise that Jimin’s reaction is a mixture of slight shock and confusion. “Why does it matter?”

Jimin waves his hand dismissively in the air, “You know I look up to you, right? And that I would never do or say anything that’ll, um, throw you off?” He shuffles around, nervous.

Again, Yoongi asks, but this time more seriously, “What’s going on, Jimin?”

“If you’re not dating then I don’t think it matters but I’ve seen how happy you are and I don’t know, but last night I was out with Taehyung and Namjoon and we saw Hoseok with this other guy and they looked a little bit too close and then the guy just, um, kisses him? Namjoon had too much to drink by then so he got real pissed and was about to walk over to their table but me and Taehyung dragged him outta the pub and it took a while to calm him down but we weren’t that drunk to have mistaken the one guy for Hoseok and I spent the whole morning debating whether I tell you or let Namjoon storm into your room so I chose the lesser of evils and now I’m here, and-“ Jimin has said a hundred “ands” in that one, rambling sentence, that when he pauses, they both take a collectively deep breath.

“-and you look like shit, have you been getting any sleep?” Jimin finally finishes, gesturing towards him.

Yoongi cringes, not because he does look like shit because he feels a little bit unsteady.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks when a few beats pass and he still hasn’t shown even the slightest reaction.

“I have a mixed media project half-way done, I’m not okay,” Yoongi says, getting up. He shrugs out of his clothes and puts a different shirt on, shimmies into a new pair of jeans and looks over his shoulder at Jimin. “Are you sure it was him?”

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles, watching as Yoongi grabs his bag and his phone off the table. Yoongi notices a few dozen missed calls under the name Jung Hoseok. He turns his phone off and dumps it into his bag. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Yoongi holds Jimin’s gaze, the latter far too concerned for his own good. He smiles, wants to reassure him. He hardly ever worries about himself so it’s not right for other people to, “If I don’t get this project done, I’m fucked.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jimin whines, hurrying to catch up to him as Yoongi slips out of the dorm. “I meant-“

“I know what you meant, Jimin,” Yoongi says, not stopping even as they reached the stairs. He takes two at a time and Jimin matches his pace.

He hears another whine from Jimin, the younger boy demanding an actual answer, but Yoongi doesn’t feel too good and it’s not because of his unfinished project. There’s a stirring in his gut that makes him feel uneasy and a tightness in his chest that makes it hard to breathe.

Like every other thing that has got something to do with Hoseok, Yoongi dismisses it, avoids the truck of emotion that’s just ran over him, and instead swings an arm around Jimin, dragging the other boy closer to him. “Thanks for waking me up. I’ll buy you a frappe,”

--

 xxvi.

18 calls and Yoongi still hasn’t picked up.

About half a dozen angry text messages from one Kim Namjoon fill his inbox.

His Kakaotalk thread with the said boy is flooded with angry stickers and a few more cuss words.

Hoseok’s head is aching, his stomach acting up. Not from the drinks but because of a rather foreign feeling. Guilt? Yeah, it felt a lot like guilt and shame.

So he curls around the toilet and throws up, wishing that he could dispose of the horrible things he’d done the night before and ending up more miserable after because he can’t. The unanswered calls are proof of that and the million texts from Yoongi’s very angry best friend is another.

So Hoseok just hits his head none too gently against the porcelain toilet and wonders why he always fucks up a good thing.

--

xxvii.

He finds Yoongi in one of the empty art studios and watches as the other boy stares at a sculpture, notices, even from his spot just by the door, the dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes.

His fingers twitch in his side, his heart racing.

It takes Yoongi a couple more minutes to notice that Hoseok’s by the door but when he does, Hoseok wishes that he had never, that he’d just walked away, because the look on Yoongi’s face actually hurts. It’s not disgust – he can handle disgust – rather, it’s blank. It’s empty and Hoseok’s never seen that expression on his face before, knows that it’s his fault. He takes a step back, not breaking eye contact.

Yoongi breaks it first and Hoseok turns around to walk away.

I’m sorry, Hoseok should have said. I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I know. It didn’t mean anything.

Nobody’s ever really mattered to Hoseok the same way Yoongi does.

--

xxviii.

He’s crossed the line so many times in his head but he can’t bring himself to knock on Yoongi’s door.

Instead, he just stands outside looking at it, feeling a little bit empty. He tries to steel himself into taking those few steps and lifting his hand to knock but he backs out the last second and not unlike the other day, walk away.

He bumps into Jimin and the boy looks at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “What’re you doing here?”

Hoseok stops, gestures vaguely behind him, mumbles something like coming over to a friend’s room, apparently the wrong thing to say, because Jimin scowls at him.

“The same friend from the other night?” Jimin shoulders his way past Hoseok, careful not to spill the two cups of coffee. “I can’t believe I set you two up,”

Hoseok turns around, eyes fixed on Jimin’s back. He wants to say thank you for bringing them together a second time and apologise for the mess he’d made. He wants to ask for help because he can’t get through Yoongi. Instead, he just shakes his head and watches as Jimin slips into Yoongi’s room.

--

xxix.

“I fucked up,” Hoseok says, fingers tugging at his hair.

Jeongguk sits in front of him, sipping at his smoothie calmly. He pushes the pack of cigarettes towards Hoseok and throws a lighter at him. “Cheer up,”

Hoseok hates that the only friend he’s got left is the most useless one in terms of actually helping anybody. “You’re useless,”

“Hey, I’m here for you, aren’t I?” Jeongguk makes a show of looking at either side of him, at Hoseok’s lack of better company, and huffs, all proud and smug. “But, seriously, I’m here for you.”

Lighting a cigarette, Hoseok leans against the chair, head tipping back so he could stare at the clouds, remembering that one afternoon he’d done the same with Yoongi.

“We’re you two actually dating, though?”

“I don’t know,” He exhales, blowing out smoke. “We never talked about it,”

He wants to ask why something so undefined could hurt so much but knows that Jeongguk would only call him overdramatic. He asks, anyway and Jeongguk doesn’t call him overdramatic.

“Maybe that was the problem?” Jeongguk swirls his straw around. “If you discussed it like mature adults, then,” He lets the word hang in the air.

“I’ve been avoiding Namjoon the past week. He’s still sending me all the angry stickers from Kakao,” Hoseok shudders. “I think he’s about used them all up at this point.”

Jeongguk snickers. “You want me to talk to him?”

And because Hoseok really has nothing else to lose, he just flicks the ashes of his cigarette to the side and nods, “Knock yourself out.”

--

xxx.

Jeongguk made do on his offer and actually talked to Namjoon. The problem is, Hoseok didn’t expect Jeongguk talking to Namjoon meant telling Namjoon to talk to Hoseok, if he’d known then he would never have told the boy to do it.

But it’s too late. Namjoon’s standing outside of his door, beanie pulled over his head and a book in one hand. “What do you want?”

“What do you want. You’re outside my room,” Hoseok shoots back, though with far less venom than Namjoon had. He steps aside to let him in and Namjoon does just that, shuffling inside the room, discarding his jacket and putting his book down on a chair.

“Jeongguk told me you had something to say,” Namjoon takes a seat on the couch, looking at Hoseok expectantly.

His phone beeps in his pocket and Namjoon tells him to hold on for a second. A few seconds pass and Hoseok’s phone buzzes on the table.

“I have an hourly alarm reminding me it’s time to send another sticker,”

God, Hoseok thinks, he hasn’t only missed Yoongi, but Namjoon as well. Even when angry the boy’s still an idiot. And a good friend, too.

Hoseok pushes a window open and grabs for another cigarette, offering one to Namjoon.

They smoke in quiet for a while, Namjoon scattering ash on Hoseok’s floor and Hoseok blowing the smoke in Namjoon’s direction.

“What’s your excuse?” Namjoon says, lighting his second cigarette.

Hoseok doesn’t have an excuse. “I fucked up,”

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, you did.”

“Does he hate me or something now?” He isn’t too excited to hear the answer to that question, though.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon’s voice has gone a little bit quiet, softer, his words laced with concern. “He seems a bit off, but he’s been really busy and stressed out, too,”

Oh.

His friend gets up, throws the cigarette out the window and grabs for his jacket and book. “Stop being an ass and just talk to him. Yoongi doesn’t bite,” He toes his shoes back on and snickers, throwing Hoseok a look over his shoulder. “But I hope he bites your hand off, you deserve that.”

--

xxxi.

He flicks through his camera’s gallery, pauses a little bit too long to look at Yoongi’s photos.

His roommate finds him that afternoon just staring at his camera and asks if anything’s wrong.

Hoseok thinks back to that night two weeks ago, the kiss they shared that felt wrong the second their lips had pressed, and turns around in his bed.

It’s not like he blames him. Hoseok wasn’t entirely faultless, either, and he reminds himself that every morning, sometimes tasting the bitterness of blood in his mouth when he bites on his tongue too hard. But it’s just so hard now when his bed feels too alien and his sheets not warm enough to last him through the cold month of December. He misses Yoongi, really, and as he flicks to the last image in his gallery, he finally makes a promise to himself that he’ll go see him tomorrow.

--

xxxii.

“I don’t have time to talk,” Yoongi tells him when Hoseok runs up to him just after class.

“Yoongi, please,” Hoseok hurries after him, tries not to sound too desperate, but he is, at this point.

Yoongi stops just as they exit the arts building and turns to him, this time the look on his face not the empty blank one he’d been greeted with a few weeks ago. Yoongi looks spent, tired, but underneath it he’s angry. Hoseok knows he is just by Yoongi’s sharp intake of breath and the way he flicks a stray strand of hair out of his face.

“We never really talked,” Yoongi starts to say. Hoseok feels the first knife stab deep into his gut. “So why should we start now?”

It’s cold and the skies are dark and heavy, it’ll definitely rain.

There’s still a fire inside of Yoongi and Hoseok doesn’t know how to tell him he wants to share that warmth.

“I’m sorry,”

“Okay,”

“I fucked up,”

When Yoongi looks at him, it’s almost like he’s smiling cruelly. “Yeah, you did.”

--

xxxiii.

Hoseok gets his midterm grade back and it’s an A.

--

xxxiv.

He decides that it’s time for him to do something, not about Yoongi, but about himself. So Hoseok undergoes a 15-day self-photography project and sits in the same spot, day after day, and props his camera on a tripod set in the same angle and makes the same face for every photo.

Namjoon runs into him just as he’s finishing up, the boy stopping to talk to him. The flood of angry stickers have dwindled to a minimum, Namjoon only sending them once a day now.

“All good?”

Hoseok smiles, “Yeah, I just got my term grade back. Got an A on a major project,”

Namjoon praises him with a heavy hand on his shoulder and asks, “What was the concept? I remember you were having a problem coming up with one,”

It takes him a while to answer as his mind brings up that day, tries to remember the look on Yoongi’s face right before they’d kissed for the first time – he had looked unguarded and raw, almost vulnerable.

“It was about indulging in one’s imagination,” Hoseok says, voice a little bit shaky. “Fanciful thinking,” A fleeting kind of beauty that only lasted in one’s imagination.

The word tastes bitter in his mouth and he can’t help but think that it couldn’t be more right.

--

xxxv

He finishes his mixed media art project two days before the deadline. Coincidentally, it’s also the same day he sees Hoseok after his talk with Jimin.

Hoseok had stood just outside the classroom, just staring at him.

Yoongi, at that time, had neither the energy nor the desire to address him so he tuned everything out.

Watching Hoseok turn around and leave hurt, though.

--

xxxvi.

Dozens of scrunched up paper is strewn across their room and Seokjin’s stopped asking about it after he found a sketch of someone that was unmistakably Hoseok sleeping under a burning tree.

Yoongi pretends his mind’s still not full of Hoseok but his paintings, his sketches, and drawings say otherwise.

--

xxxvii.

He kind of misses Hoseok.

Kind of is an understatement.

He scrolls through Hoseok’s text messages, the call log only containing Hoseok’s name. He ponders briefly on the idea of calling him back but then he remembers the sting of the admission, Hoseok’s “I fucked up,” still ringing in his ears.

Yoongi decides against it.

--

xxxviii.

2:39 pm: I got an A on my midterm project!!!

2:41 pm: Thank you

2:48 pm: Yoongi, let’s talk.

2:13 am: Yoongi

2:15 am: I really miss you

--

xxxix.

The one time Yoongi actually took someone seriously and it ends like this.

He briefly thinks that it’s not fair but since when has the world ever dealt him a hand that made him think: I might just win this round.

--

xl.

An envelope of all the photos Hoseok has taken of him slips under their door. Yoongi flips through each photo, heart heavy. They’re of random moments, mainly Hoseok catching him off guard or going unnoticed as he took the photos. There’s several of the two of them, some taken in front of large mirrors and others from a reflective surface. Yoongi’s throat burns at the memory and his eyes start to sting.

Min Yoongi is a fighter and Jung Hoseok doesn’t deserve shit, much less his tears. So he grabs a lighter and sets their photos on fire, watching as they fall to the floor, all crumpled and burnt.

He starts to think that maybe Hoseok isn’t much of a warrior anymore.

--

xli.

Seokjin is starting to worry at how self-destructive Yoongi has become. He can’t recall the last time his roommate had gotten a good night’s sleep and try as he might to not bring in any caffeine into their room, Yoongi still manages to sit sprawled in a mess of coffee cups and paper bags, of spilled paint and broken pencils, crumpled up paper and torn photographs.

--

xlii.

Yoongi accidentally answers one of Hoseok’s calls. It’s almost three in the morning and Seokjin’s sound asleep, anticipating a major exam that following morning.

It’s too late to drop it, though, because Hoseok’s started to talk. So Yoongi steps outside of the room and leans against the wall, his phone cradled between his hand and his ear as he listens to the boy on the other end of the line.

“What do I have to do for you to look at me again?” Hoseok’s voice breaks mid-sentence but he doesn’t stop talking. “Yoongi, come on. I fucked up, I really did. And we should’ve talked about us from the start but I was afraid it would ruin what we had already. It worked so well the first few months, didn’t it?”

Too well, Yoongi thinks.

“Can we please get back together?” Hoseok pleads, his voice piercing straight through Yoongi. It feels like a knife had just gutted him.

“How’s that possible?” Is the only thing Yoongi says before he drops the call. They never really went out so this isn’t exactly a break up.

Their dynamic worked until it didn’t.

Life happens.

--

xliii.

A hand clamps tightly around his wrist, dragging him harshly to the side. When he looks up it’s to see Hoseok, cheeks looking hallow and sunken. He’s paler than usual, his hair a mess and a heavy type of sadness in his eyes that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“I know I should’ve told you this sooner,” Hoseok says, fingers loosening around Yoongi’s wrist. “But you’re important to me.”

Not important enough, Yoongi bitterly thinks. If he was then Hoseok wouldn’t have gone and fucked some other guy. He says just that but his words don’t quite make the sharp impact he was hoping for because Hoseok doesn’t let go.

“It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. You matter, though, and I’ve never really felt like this for anyone that it scared me and I – I slipped, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his hand out of Hoseok’s hold and stares at him, a little bit of sad and longing on his face. “You were important to me, too,” And it’s the first time Yoongi’s ever admitted to something like this that it surprises him, almost scared  him, too.

He wonders briefly if this is what Hoseok had felt.

But isn’t it too late for that?

“I need time to think,” Yoongi has been away from Hoseok for three weeks but it takes time to put yourself back together.

You don’t mess up a painting and expect to have it restored in under ten minutes.

He leaves Hoseok under the canopy of the trees and walks back to his next class, feeling equal parts deflated and relieved.

That night, Yoongi stares at the blank canvas in front of him and tries to listen to what his heart wants him to draw.

It beats like thump, thump, thump against his chest. Stood there in complete silence and the thump, thump, thumps start to sound a lot like Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

He breaks a paintbrush and throws it on the ground because Hoseok isn’t supposed to be worth any of his creative energy or the speeding of his heart, and the tightening of his gut. Hoseok isn’t supposed to be worth shit after what he’d done and maybe Min Yoongi was wrong when he said Hoseok wasn’t much of a warrior.

You’re important to me, Hoseok had said.

Yoongi starts to paint, his hands splattered orange and the blank canvas slowly coming to life as he painted.

After a few hours, Yoongi leaves his painting in one of the art studios to dry.

It’s a painting of the horizon just as the sun was setting.

--

xliv.

Mistakes don’t make you less of a person, nor does it damage you. Hosoek isn’t concerned about himself, though, but of how much he’d hurt Yoongi. Is it possible to hurt someone so much you damage them?

--

xlv.

Hoseok stumbles into one of the building’s many art studios and finds a painting of the sunset. There’s no mistaking it. He’s seen dozens of paintings coloured the same way, the many shades of yellow and orange seeping into the canvas all too familiar to Hoseok.

He doesn’t know what exactly possesses him to take the pointing and bring it to his room but he’s already halfway back to his dorm and there’s no changing his mind at this point.

The painting’s propped against the edge of his bed and Hoseok stares at it for the rest of the afternoon, hands trailing down the canvas. It’s beautiful, as expected, but it also feels nostalgic.

He’s developed a habit of sleeping with this one particular photo of Yoongi tucked under his pillow, and it’s not weird or anything but Hoseok just misses him and the photo is absolutely perfect – Yoongi’s just woken up from a nap, half his face hidden under his arm, but he’d smiled that right second Hoseok’s finger had pressed on the shutter.

After midnight, his roommate stumbles in, drunk and smelling like alcohol, and tries to crawl into his bed. Hoseok kicks him off and says that if he tries it one more fucking time then he’ll request for a room transfer and beat his ass to a dangerous pulp.

Of course, come morning, Hoseok requests for the room transfer.

He’s not granted one so late into the semester already so he ends up rooming with Namjoon who’s got a spare bed, his roommate dropping out right after midterms.

It’s not a permanent thing or anything because most of his stuff’s still in his old room but he feels better here. His roommate’s a nice guy, really, but Hoseok can’t help but hate himself every time his roommate walks in, a cruel reminder of what he’d done to have lost someone so important.

--

xlvi.

Namjoon doesn’t mind that Hoseok smokes in the room. He does the same, anyway.

So Hoseok smokes cigarette after cigarette because he can’t drown his demons anymore but the smoke helps blur out his memories, his regrets. It also kind of distracts him from waiting around doing nothing.

Yoongi had said to give him time. Okay, he can do that.

“You need to get a life,” Namjoon tells him one afternoon after all he’d done was go outside for an hour, snap a couple of photos of geese, skipped a class, attended another, and went back to the room. “You have got to stop staring at that painting all day,”

Hoseok rolls around in his bed, “I’m hungry.”

Namjoon scowls at him, “I’m not your fucking maid. I should just kick you out. You’re polluting the environment,”

In retaliation, Hoseok exhales and blows out a thick stream of smoke.

“You stole this from Yoongi, didn’t you?”

“I think this is mine,”

“You can’t paint.”

“No, I mean, I think it’s meant for me,”

“But you still stole it.”

“I can’t steal something that’s for me, so,” He puts his cigarette out in one of the many ashtrays scattered around the room.

--

xlvii.

11:23 pm: yooooongiiiiiii

11:24 pm: miss you

11:25 pm: talk to me

11:26 pm: be with me

Hoseok’s about to fall asleep when his phone buzzes. His heart might have just flown straight out of his chest already when he reads that it’s from Yoongi. It only says, “Let me think some more.” It’s quickly followed by, “I know you stole my painting. That’s such a fucked up thing to do.”

He debates calling him but knows that it’s late and Seokjin might already be asleep so Yoongi wouldn’t want to talk much because of that. He sends him a good night text, though, and doesn’t confirm or deny about the stolen painting.

It’s obviously his, so he should get to keep it.

--

xlviii.

The last thing he expects when he stumbles out of the room is to bump into Yoongi.

Yoongi almost trips, hurriedly taking a few steps back, eyeing the door and then Hoseok. “Oh, right, you moved in with Namjoon,”

There aren’t exact words for what he wants to say and maybe he should start with “it’s good to see you”, but it’s not good, it’s fucking amazing. He settles on not saying anything, though, because whatever he says won’t be enough, would be an understatement to what it is he actually feels.

“Let’s talk,” Yoongi says, mouth set into a hard line. He pushes past Hoseok into the room and his eyes instantly settle on the painting. “I knew you fucking stole it,”

Hoseok shuts the door behind him and wishes they’d talked somewhere else because as special as Yoongi might be to him, he’d still rather not face him angry. But this is better, isn’t it? Far better than Yoongi being sad because of him. Sad has always been an emotion too heavy to bear while anger meant you could lash out if you wanted. Yoongi could lash out at him and Hoseok would take it. After the shit he’d caused, he would accept anything if it meant he was closer to actually getting through to him.

“Well,” Hoseok says, eyeing the painting. “Isn’t it for me?”

The scowl is completely wiped off of Yoongi’s face and is replaced by an oddly contemplative look.

Yoongi stares at the painting for a couple of seconds, takes in the warm colours and then looks back at Hoseok.

Hoseok can’t tell what he’s thinking, but his brow is furrowed and his eyes are narrowed slightly and, god, weren’t they supposed to talk? Hoseok hadn’t meant to start another fight just because of a stolen painting.

“I guess it is,” Yoongi finally says, his expression changing. He looks bewildered now, surprised at Hoseok, at his painting, and at himself. “You’re right, it is for you.”

He feels lightheaded all of a sudden. He’d known it was for him – or, well, felt strongly that it could be for him. But now, having Yoongi acknowledge it, it makes him feel elated, somewhat. It gives him that extra boost of confidence to take a step closer towards him.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok starts, knows that now isn’t the time for apologies. He’d apologised a hundred times over and had beaten himself too harsly over it, too. “I just want to be with you,”

He hears Yoongi let out a breath and wonders if he’s still mad. But Yoongi’s eyes are softer now, his shoulders more relaxed.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Yoongi says, fingers digging into his palm.

It fucked me up, is what Yoongi doesn’t say because he doesn’t need to. Hoseok already knows.

“I fucked up,” Hoseok repeats. “I didn’t feel anything – towards him, not you. I feel,” and he pauses, stumbling over the words. “So strongly for you, it confuses and scares me sometimes but it’s the only reason why I’ve struggled these past few weeks. I couldn’t just get over not being with you anymore,”

Another tentative step.

“You did,” Yoongi says, almost sneering at him. “Let’s talk.”

“Okay,” He takes a deep breath, makes the last few steps towards Yoongi and stops just in front of him. “I want to be with you and this time not in just any way that works for us, but really, seriously be with you. As in,” He gestures with a hand, tries to search for the right word. “Be your boyfriend, that.” The words had nestled in his heart for what felt like the longest time and a part of him wishes he’d said this earlier but another part of him thinks that this is a good a time as any, too.

Yoongi hasn’t said anything but he blinks at the confession. He touches Hoseok’s elbow cautiously and when Hoseok doesn’t flinch away, his fingers travel down to his arm, before clamping down on his hand. Yoongi gives it a hard squeeze. “I was a wreck,”

And the words have laid heavy in Yoongi’s heart ever since he’d found out, and it’s not a good time to say it, not after what Hoseok’s said, but he needs to know.

Hoseok needs to know that he wasn’t okay, and although Hoseok already knows it even without Yoongi saying, Yoongi still had to voice it out because they couldn’t move pass it unless he did so.

Yoongi,” Hoseok’s voice comes out softer, sadder.

“I wasn’t okay,” Yoongi continues, fingers digging into Hoseok’s hand. It doesn’t hurt because Yoongi’s fingernails are pretty blunt but the pressure is heavy. “We should’ve talked sooner.”

Hoseok only nods to that.

“I want you,” Hoseok thought that the first time Yoongi would say those words, he’d look happier, not this – crushed is a good word for the look on Yoongi’s face but it’s not enough to amply describe the heaviness in his heart. “And this isn’t going to work if you only want me sometimes,”

Hoseok blinks, his eyes stinging.

He lifts his hand up to brush against Yoongi’s cheek, shame and guilt flooding through him at the thought of his mistake. “I want you all the time,” Hoseok says, gaze meeting Yoongi’s.

There’s no trace of the crushed and defeated boy in the way Yoongi meets Hoseok’s gaze, matching the intensity reflected in Hoseok’s eyes.

“Please,” Hoseok knocks their foreheads gently together after one too many heartbeats, and hooks his arm behind Yoongi’s neck, fingers tugging gently at his hair.

Yoongi melts into him, his arms going around Hoseok in a hug.

“Okay.”

--

xlix.

They fall back into their previous pattern but it’s not quite how they were. Not exactly.

They don’t skirt around topics anymore and actually talk to each other.

Yoongi has a foul mouth when it comes to cursing and Hoseok’s laugh is still loud. They’re both the same people and slightly changed, all at once.

When they meet their friends the next day, they don’t even give them a chance to ask just what’s going on this time because Hoseok says, rather proudly, that they’re dating now and if Kim Namjoon could stop with the fucking angry stickers, dude, we share the same room, how could you still send me those?

Jimin looks at Hoseok suspiciously but he sees the smile on Yoongi’s face, the happy, contented look he has on and notices his hands are splattered with ink – bright colours this time around, not the dark undertones Yoongi was so famous in the art department for – that Jimin lets it slide.

Jeongguk slams a tray of shots in the middle of their table and risks almost spilling half of it.

Hoseok laughs, loud and big, and Yoongi takes his first shot of the evening.

He gets drunk, as usual, and Hoseok follows along quickly after.

They stumble out of the pub with their arms around each other, Hoseok’s face buried in Yoongi’s hair, a smile playing across his features.

Yoongi doesn’t forget about what they both went through but this time they’re starting off on a clean slate.

His heart still remembers how it feels for Hoseok and Hoseok’s skin is familiar against Yoongi’s. It’s cold outside but Yoongi’s always had a fire in him and now Hoseok can finally share in the warmth.

There’s a fire inside of Yoongi and Hoseok radiates the brightest colours in the spectrum.

Their friends are noisy on either side of them, stumbling on their own two feet. But Hoseok and Yoongi have each other to cling on to and it might be a long walk back to the dorms but there’s something about the stars out tonight that makes Hoseok glow.

Hoseok thinks the same for Yoongi and he actually voices it out, much to Yoongi’s chagrin and the pleasure of all their friends.

They get teased on the whole way back but Hoseok doesn’t mind, not when Yoongi’s constantly pecking kisses at his jaw, the edge of his mouth, down his neck and everywhere else he has access to.

--

l.

They didn’t work at all the first time.

The second time it had worked until it didn’t.

The third time, though, well, it’s not exactly perfect but they’re getting there.

And sometimes the colours don’t really blend into each other perfectly, the strokes are too harsh, the hand too heavy and the exposure too bright but Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are a work of art and nothing, not even when hell freezes over and all the stars are roped out of the sky, will change that universal truth. 

Together? Well, together they fall into each other to make a masterpiece.