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Yoongi was supposed to be fast.
Yoongi was fast, normally, but he didn’t typically go by himself.
He usually had Jungkook to back him up, but that morning the younger boy had woken up feeling sick, so Seokjin deemed it better that he stayed back so that he could rest and the oldest of their group could take care of him.
Jungkook was a great partner, and he complimented Yoongi so well that Yoongi sometimes wondered how had he been able to go alone for such a long time. Jungkook was younger than he was, yes, but he was taller and broader; strong and energic. He was slower than Yoongi, but he was also twice as strong, and even if his aim wasn’t as good as Yoongi’s when it came to fire weapons, he was the best in hand to hand combat in their entire group. Yoongi wasn’t tall and he wasn’t broad; on the contrary, he was short, his build thin and narrow, and he was so quiet that he could be just as lethal as Jungkook, just in the opposite way.
He couldn’t deny he felt a little bare without Jungkook by his side, even if Jimin and Taehyung had gone up the building already and had assured Yoongi through their intercom system that the coast was clear, that he would be safe as long as he remained in the emergency staircase of the building and didn’t go around exploring. And so, despite being without Jungkook, he still had to go on with the mission because he was the one who had the keys and the passcodes, and he was supposed to be fast because you never knew when a group of infested could show up in the most unlikely place.
And the last thing Yoongi wanted was for himself or any of his friends to get bitten just because he was too slow.
And so, he went on, all by himself, climbing up the emergency staircase of the building just a little slower than he would if Jungkook was there to back him up, even if the nerves were pretty much eating him alive, his muscles tensed all over his body and his blood pumping loud behind his ears. He had the fingers of his right hand curled tightly around the handle of his gun, charged and ready to fire, while he dragged the left ones over the railing of the staircase, the ancient dust that had been sitting there undisturbed for ages collecting on the tips of his black leather gloves.
The building was large, but not as gigantic as some of the skyscrapers downtown. It looked like it must have been the headquarters to a large insurance corporation not too long ago, before this entire chaos had broken out and civilization collapsed in the blink of an eye. Now, the building was nothing more than a collection of rust, dust, old pieces of paper that had turned yellow in time, and black-ish green mold growing over the carpets and covering the walls. It was the picture of disaster, though Yoongi knew that most of it had been caused by the ransacking and plundering that took place after the sickness had broken out – by the people that hadn’t become infected when the first wave of the sickness broke out, and had pillaged everything of value when enterprises and industries all over the world started tumbling down powerlessly.
The building was thirty stories tall, and Yoongi was supposed to meet Jimin and Taehyung all the way up in floor twenty-nine, at the office of the person that had been the vice-president of the company once upon a time, but just when he was halfway between floors twenty and twenty-one, he heard a loud noise coming behind him, from the twentieth floor.
The emergency escape door was open, so Yoongi could have looked out at the large elevator hall if he wanted to, but he hadn’t given it more than a quick peek to make sure the coast was actually clear before he continued going up, but then that sound happened, and it was so loud. It was the sound a large body made when it collided partially against a large object, like a garbage can or something like that, and it was followed by what sounded like a groan of pain.
It was so loud in the otherwise utter silence of the building that it made Yoongi’s heart shrink. It made him think that he had gotten spotted by an infected (a blind one, most likely), so he stopped, dead on his tracks, frozen in fear. He supposed he could use the communicator to tell Taehyung and Jimin that he was in trouble, or that he could tell Namjoon, who was guarding near the entrance of the building, that he needed some back-up. However, if there really was a blind infected out there, Yoongi knew that any kind of noise could be used by his predator to guide him to him, so he preferred to stay quiet.
He pressed himself as close to the wall as he could and he listened carefully.
“Fuckin’ hell…” a low voice said, coming from the elevator hall on the twentieth floor but filtering into the emergency staircase through the wide-opened door. The sound of it made panic and relief rush through Yoongi’s body simultaneously; it made his fingers tingle and his grip tighten around his gun.
What was an actual human person doing in an abandoned building that was probably crawling with monsters? How come Taehyung and Jimin didn’t notice there was somebody else in the building when they went up first? Would that person try to assault or kill Yoongi if they found him?
Yoongi should’ve run. He should’ve gone upstairs to meet Jimin and Taehyung, gone into the company’s vice-president office to do what they had been hired to do, and then maybe, the three of them together, could take on the stranger if it was necessary. But instead of doing that, Yoongi went down the stairs as quietly as he could, holding his gun to his chest with his both hands while he kept himself as close to the wall as possible, adrenaline pumping through his body. As far as he knew, the emergency staircase was the only way through the floors of the building, so the mysterious person would have to come out sooner or later, and when that happened, Yoongi would be the one that found them first, and he would put a bullet through their head.
Just in case.
He waited, standing next to the frame of the open door, as he heard the other person humming some tune to themselves while they rummaged through the contents of a bag or backpack, and it was so creepy and so awful, and Yoongi wanted nothing but for the other person to shut the fuck up because they would attract all the blind zombies in the district if they kept on making so much fucking noise—
All too quickly, though, the noise stopped.
The noise stopped, the humming stopped, the rummaging stopped, and all that was left was the sound of dusty oxygen filling Yoongi’s lungs, the sound of his heart pounding fast in his chest, the sound of nothing, nothing at all, and Yoongi was about to take step into the elevator hall to see what the fuck was going on when suddenly a man appeared in front of him, as quick as lighting and as quiet as a cat.
The man pinned him against the wall almost effortlessly, successfully taking Yoongi by surprise, and pressing the cold, large blade of a machete to his neck.
“So, I was right. There was somebody else in here, after all,” the other man said, sounding a little too cheerful for Yoongi’s liking. He was taller than Yoongi, Yoongi saw when he opened his eyes, but he also saw a surprisingly young and attractive face with its features twisted into a smirk. He saw black hair, greasy and shaggy, but pulled back from the man’s face and up into a messy little bun. He saw sharp cheekbones, lively black eyes, and a large scar that went from the man’s temple to the softer flesh of his cheek. Yoongi had never seen this man before, yet he had put a huge ass knife to his neck, but Yoongi couldn’t blame him because he had been thinking about blowing the man’s brains just moments ago.
“I’ve a gun,” Yoongi said, trying to sound as calm as he could as he angled his hand to press the muzzle of the gun against the man’s stomach. He saw the taller man’s eyes widening when the gun made contact against his body through the thin and probably dirty fabric of his shirt, so Yoongi didn’t feel all that powerless. “You try anything, you’re dead.”
“Funny,” the man said with a sardonic smile, tilting his head and causing his black hair to sway with the movement. “I was gonna say the same thing. A bullet to my stomach wouldn’t kill me right away, but I would like to see you going around without a head.”
He pushed the knife further against Yoongi’s neck when he said that, and the blade was so sharp that it actually stung and Yoongi hissed. He scowled up at the man, wondering if he would really try to kill him in such a gruesome way.
“Who are you?” he asked, but the man laughed.
“No, no, I don’t believe you’re in position to make questions,” he said in a stupid sing-song voice that irritated Yoongi beyond reason.
“Oh, and you are?” Yoongi couldn’t help but bite back, digging the gun against the man’s stomach. “You don’t even know what kind of gun I have, I might as well blow you to fuckin’ pieces before you can make it past my skin with your butter knife. I asked you a question first, now answer me. Who are you?”
The man clicked his tongue and shrugged.
“Does it matter?” he said, simply, and then he did something unexpected. He reached out with his free hand and he ran a hand through Yoongi’s blonde fringe. Yoongi snarled, and in his annoyance, he tried hitting the man’s stomach with his gun, but his abdomen was so hard and muscly that he was most likely unaffected. Still, he replied, a soft chuckle in his voice. “Okay, fine. Calm down, babe. My name is Hoseok, but if we don’t end up killing each other, you can call me Hobi. You’re pretty cute, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up and don’t touch me with your dirty hands,” Yoongi glared, though he couldn’t help but notice that the man –Hoseok— wasn’t pressing his knife as firmly as moments ago. He no longer felt a sting, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the warmth that he felt trickling down his neck were beads of blood instead of sweat.
“Ooh, cute and feisty,” Hoseok said, smirk growing wider, but he laughed as he put his free hand back and away from Yoongi’s hair. “Though I don’t know what makes you think my hands are dirtier than yours.”
“Stop talking so much,” Yoongi hissed, “and put your knife down.”
“Only if you tell me your name,” Hoseok countered. “If you don’t, I’ll just call you ‘cutie’, or ‘babe’, but I don’t think you’d like it that much—“
“—Yoongi,” the shorter man interrupted, his eyes narrowing dangerously up at Hoseok, who smirked even more. “My name is Yoongi. Now, put your knife down.”
Hoseok hummed, his brow furrowing thoughtfully.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’ll kill me if I do that, won’t you? Why would I give up on the only thing that gives me power over you, hm, babe?” Hoseok asked, and all of a sudden, he moved in again, his knife pressing to Yoongi’s flesh more fully. He really didn’t care about the gun that Yoongi was pushing to his stomach, and it was almost as frustrating as the fact that he was getting called ‘babe’ by a freak with long hair, a bright handsome face, and a huge ass machete. “Are you here alone?”
Yoongi huffed.
“No. I’ve got an entire team here, actually, so you better let me go and not try anything. I can call them – they’ll be here in a second. Even if you kill me, they’ll kill you later,” he replied, and he spoke the truth. Really. Or partially, at least. He had to activate the intercom, which was in his pocket, if he wanted to ask them for help, and he didn’t have much space to maneuver when he was pinned against a wall with a knife against his neck.
“What are you here for? All of you, I mean. Not just you,” Hoseok asked again, his voice sounding colder when he talked business. “Are you after anything in specific?”
“I’ll only answer if you tell me whether you got more people in here,” Yoongi answered.
Hoseok held his stare for a long time before he replied.
“No, I don’t have anybody,” he said, and Yoongi saw how there was no light in his eyes whatsoever as he spoke, not even a fake, made-up kind of light. He had the feeling that this Hoseok person wasn’t only talking about his current situation in the abandoned building. “Okay, your turn. What are you after in here?”
“An old man’s safety box,” Yoongi replied, somewhat unsettled by the lack of light in the man’s eyes. It was the same look he had seen in Jungkook face when they all first met him a few years ago: the look of a person that no longer had anything to lose; nothing worth fighting for and nothing to live for.
“There’s nothing left in here, though,” Hoseok said, his brow furrowed and an eyebrow raised. “I checked almost everywhere. There are infected in almost every floor, but everywhere I could check everything was empty. Nothing but papers scattered everywhere, some flipped desks and chairs, and also blood on the floor. No computers, though. No cables, or lamps, or anything. How do you know there’s a safety box somewhere?”
“We just know,” Yoongi gritted out, starting to get annoyed at the man’s insistence. “Are you going to keep holding your knife there? It’s starting to get really annoying and itchy.”
Hoseok actually chuckled at that.
“I still don’t trust you completely, babe, so no, I won’t put my knife down yet,” he said. “You avoided my question. How do you know there’s a safety box somewhere?”
“We were told,” Yoongi replied, rolling his eyes at the nickname. “We were asked to retrieve it. That’s what we do. People hire us so we can retrieve valuable stuff from the zombie-infested city. Sometimes it’s safety boxes full of money, other times it’s family albums full of old pictures.”
Hoseok looked like he was about to say something, but then the sound of slow steps resounded between the bare walls of the emergency staircase. It was still far away, perhaps two floors below, but it seemed that whoever it was –whatever it was— was making its way upstairs. Hoseok looked at Yoongi with wide eyes and he stepped back from him, lifting both hands so that he was no longer pushing his knife against his neck.
“Looks like somebody is coming our way,” Hoseok said in a harsh whisper, eyeing down at the gun that Yoongi was no longer pointing at his stomach. “I take it you know how to fight against an infested?”
Yoongi nodded his head.
“Uh-huh,” he said while he looked up at the staircase. “But, you know, I kinda have to go now. Think you can entertain this little fella in the meantime?”
“Yoongi,” the black-haired man said, frowning, and he lifted his knife to point it at Yoongi again, but the shorter man had already taken a few steps up the stairs and was already out of reach from the knife. He was holding his gun out at Hoseok, too, who looked more hysterical the closer the steps sounded; the stronger the smell of putrid flesh became. “Yoongi, I spared your life. I could’ve killed you.”
“You could’ve, yes, but you didn’t, and I think it’s your boner that saved me,” Yoongi said with a smirk, still pointing his gun at Hoseok as he took a few steps backwards, getting further from both the black-haired man and the approaching infested. “Listen, baby, ‘cuz I got an offer for you. If you manage to kill this infested all by yourself like the big boy you are, meet us in the twenty-ninth floor. We’re only gonna get the safety box, but you can keep anything you want apart from that. The office should be untouched, so perhaps you’ll find something valuable. Just don’t get killed.”
“Hey!” Yoongi turned around and he started running upstairs, but Hoseok called him again. “Hey, Yoongi! Yoongi, wait!”
Yoongi didn’t turn back, though. He just kept running up the emergency staircase of the building, trying to block his ears so he didn’t have to hear the echoes of the fight that the man he had just met –this mysterious Hoseok guy, with long black hair, a scar across his face, and a giant knife— was holding against a stray infested. He didn’t encounter anything abnormal and before too long he was finally on the twenty-ninth floor, panting heavily.
“What took you so long?!” Jimin complained when he first saw Yoongi, worry mixed with annoyance. “We were about to tell Namjoon to go see if your ass needed to be rescued.”
Yoongi clicked his tongue and pushed past the two younger men as he stepped towards the door that read ‘vice-president’ on a wooden plaque underneath a thick layer of dust. The door, aside from needing a key, also required a mechanical number input for it to be opened, and he, Seokjin, and Namjoon were the only ones who had been told the combination. Jimin and Taehyung weren’t as trustworthy, unfortunately. “You two were supposed to check if the coast was clear.”
“Yeah, and it was,” Taehyung said, and Yoongi knew he was frowning by the sound of his voice alone even if he was too busy, putting in the number combination that would open the door, to look at him.
“It was not,” Yoongi replied curtly. “There was a person. And not only that, but there was also an infected.”
“Not our fault. The coast was clear when we checked,” Jimin said, but he sounded pretty impressed when he added, “But... You killed both of them? Just like that? Even without Kookie as back-up? Woah, that’s so cool…”
Yoongi shook his head, though he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud at Jimin’s words. “Nope,” he said, just as the lock gave in and the door opened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t kill either of them.”
“What?” Taehyung exclaimed, eyes widening. “Hyung! You want us to get killed, or something? Why didn’t you kill them?!”
“The dude put a huge ass knife to my neck, it’s not like I could do much, could I?” Yoongi defended, and he opened the door so the three of them could go inside and look for the safety box. According to the person that hired them, the old vice-president’s eldest daughter, it should be hiding in the ventilation duct behind a potted plant, so that’s where the two youngers headed to.
The office was a huge contrast to the rest of the building. It was huge, and there was barely any dust in it, and there were plenty of valuable objects lying here and there that could probably be exchanged for a lot of bullets, food, and cigarettes, maybe even guns, if you knew the right people. It was as if time didn’t exist in there, as if the chaos and disaster had never filtered in through the securely locked door, and Yoongi sat on the edge of the large wooden desk at the back while Jimin and Taehyung started fumbling around with the ventilation duct.
“You could’ve shot him in the head? That usually does the trick,” Jimin said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and actually, it kind of was.
Except it wasn’t, really.
They hadn’t been taken by surprise as easily as he had when the taller man popped out of nowhere and pinned him against the wall with a huge knife to his neck. They hadn’t seen the man’s long hair and attractive face smirking at him like he was some sort of predator. They hadn’t seen the light disappearing from his eyes when Yoongi asked him if there was somebody in the building with him. They hadn’t heard him calling them ‘babe’.
If they had, they surely wouldn’t reprimand Yoongi for not shooting him when he had the chance.
Jimin and Taehyung were about to finish removing the metallic cover from the ventilation duct when the sound of fast and confident footsteps over carpeted floor coming from outside the office made Yoongi stand up and point his gun at the door, which they had left wide open.
He was only a little bit nervous, because even before anyone appeared on the other side of the frame, he knew who it was going to be. And sure enough, eventually Hoseok –the attractive man with long black hair and a scar on his face—, appeared on the doorway. His hair seemed more messed up than before and there was fresh dark purple blood not only on his clothes, but also on the blade of the knife that he was still holding in his hand.
They looked at each other for a while, with Yoongi still pointing his gun at Hoseok with an unwavering arm, but then the taller man’s legs seemed to wake up. He stepped into the office and he walked towards Yoongi across the thick carpet. It seemed that Jimin and Taehyung had stopped trying to open the duct because they weren’t making noise anymore, and one of the two gasped as Hoseok threw his bloodied machete on the floor. Yoongi lowered his gun, finally, and he dropped it on the desk behind him.
“So, you did it, hm?” He started, “good job. That means you can take as many things from here as you want. We’re just gonna take the safe—“
—Hoseok cut him with a punch to his face.
One so strong, it shook Yoongi’s head completely and had sharp pain spreading across his entire body from where the man’s solid fist impacted against his cheek. The mental shock was pretty big, too, so he remained with his face turned in the direction he had gotten punched as he brought one of his hands to his hurt cheek. He tasted faintly of blood, and when he touched his lip, he realized the punch had made him bite involuntarily on his lower lip.
“Hey! Hey, what the fuck?! Who the fuck are you?!” Jimin said, or perhaps it was Taehyung. Yoongi was a little confused after the blow, but he was sure he heard guns clicking. It was kinda cute that the two younger men had jumped to his defense after he had gotten punched on the face, but they better not shoot Hoseok if they didn’t want to make Yoongi angry.
“That’s for making me fight that zombie by myself,” Hoseok said, brusquely, ignoring the younger men. Yoongi was finally able to look at him again, his hand still on his face, pressing against the place where the long-haired man had punched him in the hopes to make it stop hurting.
“Oh, please, look at this office – I pretty much just made you rich with all the shit you can get from here. You should be thanking me instead of punching me,” Yoongi replied, letting his eyes travel over Hoseok’s annoyed expression. It was oddly attractive, seeing his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched tight, his scar pale against his otherwise tan and probably dirty skin.
“I could’ve died,” Hoseok retorted, clearly angry, and Yoongi actually snorted at that.
“You and I both know that’s not true. You managed to put me in a tricky situation, and I’m way more difficult to fight than a brainless infected – or so I like to think, anyway. And you didn’t die, so who the fuck cares about what could have happened?”
Hoseok moved closer to Yoongi, trapping him against the large wooden desk, and he was about to raise his fist again when Jimin interfered by pressing the muzzle of his gun to Hoseok’s head.
“You touch him again, you die,” Jimin said, his voice firm and ice cold; sharp like the blade Hoseok had pressed against Yoongi’s throat minutes ago. Yoongi glanced in the younger man’s direction and he saw not a single trace of hesitance in his narrow eyes, his fingers wrapped tight around the handle of his gun, just one small gesture away from blowing Hoseok’s head. Hoseok stopped himself halfway, his body freezing at Jimin’s threat. He put his hand back down, glowering, and Yoongi probably shouldn’t be attracted to the way he poked his tongue to the interior of his cheek when they were in such a dire situation.
Jimin didn’t remove the gun from where he was pointing it to Hoseok’s temple straight away, and for what felt like the longest time, Yoongi just looked at the taller man in the eye. His gaze was intense, dark, almost painful to look at, but at the same time, it felt warm somehow, as if there was a raging fire hidden somewhere inside of him, keeping him alive, contracting and growing in time with his quick breaths. It was somewhat hypnotic, looking at Hoseok, and Yoongi no longer felt the pain from the blow he had received mere minutes ago. He had a broken lip and there were thin trails of dried blood on his neck from where Hoseok’s machete had dug onto his skin, but all Yoongi wanted to know was where that fire was hidden inside the other man, and why it seemed to be hiding away.
He was brought back to reality when Taehyung cleared his throat loudly.
“Uh, guys? Namjoon-hyung wants to know what’s keeping us so long,” he said, his deep voice crushing the tension like a wrecking ball and making Yoongi realize that he had spent an undetermined amount of time looking straight into the eyes of a man that had almost killed him the moment they met.
He scoffed, looking away from Hoseok and feeling his body relax when Jimin moved his gun away.
“Tell him we’re almost done,” Yoongi instructed before he looked at Jimin with his eyes narrowed. “You go get the safe. And put your gun away. Don’t you dare pull it out again.”
He saw Jimin roll his eyes, but he did as he was told even if he muttered an ‘are you serious?’ under his breath.
“Yes, I’m serious,” Yoongi spat out as Jimin turned around and went back to the ventilation duct to resume his work. “Ammunitions are hard to come by. And I can defend myself, anyway.”
Through the corner of his eyes he saw Hoseok making a move towards the center of the office, where he had thrown his bloodied knife, so Yoongi quickly grabbed at his gun and pointed it at him. “Still,” he warned him, and he kept his gun pointed at him as he walked backwards to fetch the knife himself.
“That’s my only weapon,” Hoseok told him, clearly trying to keep his annoyance at bay as he put his hands up. “I won’t let you take it so easily.”
“I’ll give it back to you when we’re out of here, babe,” Yoongi replied, echoing for the second time the pet name that Hoseok had used with him when they met at the building’s emergency staircase. It made Hoseok flush, and Yoongi enjoyed that a little too much. He smirked as he made his way back to the desk, Hoseok’s knife grasped firmly in his left hand while with his right one he aimed his gun at the taller man. It was loaded and everything, ready to fire, but he knew very well that he wouldn’t do it. It seemed that his subconscious had already made the decision not to hurt Hoseok in any way, but he had appearances to keep. “In the meantime, you should start looking around this place for valuables. We’re only taking the safe with us, remember? It’s your reward for staying alive.”
Hoseok eyed him, mistrusting, throwing a little glance at his knife and then at Yoongi’s gun.
“I don’t trust you,” he said, simply.
“That’s fine,” Yoongi replied, shrugging, but for some reason Hoseok’s words didn’t sit in well. He secured his gun and lowered it, which seemed to surprise Hoseok if the way he raised his eyebrows was anything to go by. “I don’t trust you either, and you punched me like a motherfucker, but I won’t shoot you. You could’ve killed me before but you didn’t, so I guess I’m just returning the favor. Just get to it, babe.”
By the time they had emptied the content of the safe into the canvas sack Taehyung had brought along for that purpose, Hoseok had managed to fill his backpack with the things he had found here and there that could be considered valuable. Most of those things, surprisingly, happened to be books. He took a gold-rimmed ashtray, a desk lamp, a bunch of elegant looking pens, ancient boxes of cigarettes (which were probably the most valuable things out of all the stuff he gathered), and fancy decorations. But, most of all, he took books.
He didn’t take all of them, though. Yoongi watched the long-haired man as he looked through the bookshelves that covered almost the entire wall behind the desk. He was very particular, it seemed, because he didn’t take the largest, most expensive looking ones. The pile he had gathered contained some very thin volumes, and Yoongi had no idea what worth could they have. What Yoongi did know, though, was that Namjoon would go crazy trying to save every single book in the room.
“What’s this for?” He asked Hoseok, picking the book at the top of the pile that he was gathering on the desk, and he squinted at the title. If he tried hard he could connect the letters and the words, but as it was, all he saw was a bunch of lines and circles.
“To read, obviously,” Hoseok said, and since he was still looking through the spines of the books lined up neatly on the shelves, he couldn’t see the frown that took over Yoongi’s face for a moment.
“Yeah, obviously,” he echoed, unable to stop a hint of bitterness from slipping into his voice. So Hoseok knew how to read? That was interesting. And not too common. In fact, in their group, only Namjoon and Seokjin knew how to read properly, and if it wasn’t for them Yoongi would have never learned the basics.
In the end, Jimin and Taehyung also took some books as presents for Namjoon. They took five, all of them a different color, hoping there was one in the bunch that Namjoon would like. They were ready to go, but it seemed that Hoseok was still entertained, looking around the shelves of books and picking up little trinkets and decorations that could be valuable to someone. The youngest two of the group stayed near the door while Yoongi went up to Hoseok, his machete still in his hand. The weapon was heavy, the blade large and the handle comfortable, and Yoongi had never been one for knives, but he felt curious about what it would be like to use one to fight against an infected.
“Hey,” he told Hoseok, not too gently. The sudden sound of his voice made Hoseok jump a little bit and look away from the little bronze statue of a dragon he was examining. “We’re done here. We’re leaving.”
“Oh,” Hoseok said, his shoulders slumping a little bit.
“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, a little dumbly. “I’ll give your knife back, but you should know, if you ever put it anywhere near my neck again, you won’t be as lucky. Same goes with punching. I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on me again.”
It took Yoongi by surprise when Hoseok, instead of taking his threats seriously, only smirked and chuckled instead.
“Wait, what was that thing you told me before?” Hoseok asked, his lips curving upwards dangerously as he took the knife in his hand when Yoongi offered it to him. He put it away right away, nevermind that it was covered in dry infected blood. “That it had been my boner that saved you? Well, I guess the same thing goes for you, babe.”
“Shut up,” Yoongi spat out, but Hoseok chuckled again.
“Never,” he said. “And anyway, what makes you think we’ll see each other again? Perhaps I’ll die on my way out here. Perhaps you’ll die on your way out, who knows!”
Yoongi frowned at that, sensing a strong apprehension beneath the nonchalance in Hoseok’s words.
“Do you have any plans? Are you going anywhere after this? Are you meeting with someone, perhaps?” Yoongi asked, carefully, and Hoseok shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I told you before, didn’t I? It’s just me and my knife. I was planning on going to the south again, to the safety village where I’m from, but I’m still not sure. I think I’ll be able to get myself a good gun with the things I found in here today, so it should be easier to travel around like that. I guess I should thank you for that. I would’ve never gotten my hands on the things I found here if it wasn’t for you…”
Suddenly, and as Hoseok spoke, a crazy thought flashed through Yoongi’s brain.
Truthfully, it had probably appeared in his subconscious long ago, but it was only now showing up before his eyes, when he was hit by the realization that the man with long black hair and a scar on his face that had nearly killed him the moment they met would disappear from his life as suddenly as he had appeared.
Yoongi didn’t like many people, and Hoseok had tried to kill him. And not only that, but he had also punched him on the face. There were no reasons at all for Yoongi to like Hoseok.
And yet.
“Why don’t you come with us?” Yoongi asked Hoseok, unable to stop himself, and Hoseok’s eyes widened almost comically.
“What?” He asked, and Yoongi shrugged, trying to seem casual. He looked away from Hoseok’s eyes and focused on one of his ears instead, trying to get his heartbeat rate to calm down. He wasn’t sure what it was about Hoseok that made him want to take him with them, but he had known that there was something about him that pulled him in from the moment he first saw him; from the moment he first trapped him against the wall with a knife to his neck and called him ‘babe’ in the emergency staircase of the building.
“I said that you could come with us,” Yoongi repeated, though this time he didn’t word it as a question. “That you should come with us. We could give you a place to sleep in a safety village not too far from the city for as long as you need. It’s safe there, for the most part, and we have food, medicines, weapons… If you decide you don’t like us, you can leave anytime, just like we will kick you out if we don’t like you.”
“Hey, hey, hold on,” Hoseok interrupted once he seemed to have gotten over his surprise. “What makes you think I should go with you? I mean, I’m kinda flattered, but you don’t know the slightest thing about me. I don’t know the slightest thing about you. We did each other a favor in not killing each other, and that was great, but that’s it. I’m not a charity case, and I’m doing well on my own.”
“I never said you weren’t doing well on your own, or that you were a charity case, or anything like that,” Yoongi defended, slightly wounded at the way Hoseok had reacted, jumping far too quickly to refuse his invitation. “Everybody needs somebody in a world like this, but it seems you’re above that. That’s fine. Whatever. Forget I said anything.”
Yoongi turned towards the door, his brow furrowed, his hands curled into fists, and a strange hollow feeling in his chest that he had never felt before. He was about to make his way outside of the office, where Jimin and Taehyung were probably waiting impatiently, when Hoseok reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.
“Hey, Yoongi, wait—“, he said, and when Yoongi turned around he saw that he was chuckling, his face brightened up by the brilliant smile he had on. He shook his head, and his long black hair swayed along with it, the bun at the top of his head moving as well. Yoongi glared at him, but he raised a curious eyebrow. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“What, there’s more?” Yoongi asked, annoyed.
Hoseok nodded.
“Yup,” he said, and he took a deep breath. “I would go with you. I think I’d like that. There’s nobody waiting for me in my old village, or anywhere else for that matter, and I guess I grew used to being by myself in the last few years since I lost my own team – my sister.”
Yoongi winced at that, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hoseok shook his head.
“Don’t be. Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said, looking at Yoongi a little sternly now. “I’ll go with you, but only if the reason you’re inviting me isn’t pity.”
“Okay, then,” Yoongi said, glancing down at his wrist, which was still being held by Hoseok’s hand. When he looked back up at Hoseok’s face, he noticed that his eyes were fixed on his own face. “It isn’t pity. Really.”
“Then what is it?” Hoseok asked, tilting his head in curiosity.
Yoongi huffed and he shrugged, “I don’t know. I just want you to come with us. You could teach us your knife techniques for fighting infected, or teach me how to read better than Namjoon did, because he’s a smart one, alright, but he isn’t very good at explaining shit to me. They’d have to approve you staying with us, of course, but I’m sure you can bring a lot into the group. Also, you really need a haircut, and a shave, and a bath, and you can get all those things with us, and— And, and shit, if you’re not going to go around punching me in the face or threatening to chop my head off again, then I guess I’d really like to have you around.”
Hoseok smirked a little that.
“Oh, really? And why?”
“I don’t know, I just do,” Yoongi repeated in a louder, harsher tone as he finally retrieved his hand from Hoseok’s hold, hoping the heat he was feeling rising on his cheeks wasn’t a blush because that wouldn’t be threatening at all. Hoseok laughed as Yoongi crossed his arms. “You have three seconds to decide before I change my mind. I can’t make the rest of my team wait so long for nothing—“
“—okay,” Hoseok said, interrupting Yoongi with a smile. Yoongi stopped talking, and the way that he just frowned in confusion, his nose scrunching up a little, were probably what had him laughing again.
“Okay?”
The taller man nodded energetically.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll go. I’ll try and see what it’s like for a couple of days. I’ve never cared about finding a team for myself, but I’m curious about you. And as long as you don’t go around pointing your gun at me or leaving me to fight infected by myself, then I’d really like to have you around. And I didn’t know you couldn’t read… I can help you learn, if that’s what you want. I don’t know. I barely met you and I already like you. And you really are cute, by the way, I wasn’t just saying that.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but something squeezed around his heart and his lungs.
“You’re gross, a simple ‘okay, I wanna go with you’ would’ve been fine, jesus,” he said, which made Hoseok chuckle brightly. He tried not to linger on the sound of the other’s laughter so much, and he made a gesture at the door of the office with his head. “Let’s go, now, before they really lose their patience.”
“Yes sir,” Hoseok mock-saluted, and he followed close behind Yoongi as he made it towards the door.
When they exited the door, Yoongi saw Taehyung and Jimin sitting down on the carpeted floor of the hall, leaning against the wall. Jimin was resting his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, his eyes closed, while the taller boy turned his gun around his finger with an almost lazy expression on his face. They seemed surprised and not too happy when they asked about Hoseok and Yoongi told them that he was coming with them, and Yoongi supposed couldn’t blame them.
A few moments later, when they had descended all the way to the ground floor, where Namjoon was guarding the entrance, Yoongi got another look of confusion, this time from the leader of their little group.
Namjoon even pulled him aside for a moment, after Yoongi announced that he had the intention of keeping Hoseok and bringing him home with them.
“We can’t just pick anyone up like they’re a stray dog, or something,” he told Yoongi, sternly, but Yoongi didn’t budge.
“What about Jungkook, then?” He shot back, “what about Jimin and Taehyung? What about me? Isn’t that exactly what happened with me and with the others? We got picked up by you and Seokjin.”
“Yoongi,” Namjoon sighed, looking straight at Yoongi’s eyes. “It’s different.”
Yoongi shook his head.
“It’s not. Trust me. Hoseok’s good. He could teach us a thing or two, I’m sure. And not only that, but he can read! He took a lot of books from the office. Just, give him a chance, please,” Yoongi pleaded, looking up at Namjoon with as much honesty as he could muster. He was aware that he had a broken lip, maybe a bruise on his face, and dry blood on his neck, and if he told Namjoon that Hoseok had given those to him then he would never in a hundred years allow Hoseok anywhere near anyone in their group again, so Yoongi wouldn’t ever mention it to him. All Yoongi wanted, for a reason that was completely beyond him and his power of reason, was to see Hoseok again the next day, and the day after that, until he had gotten to know the person he really was.
“Alright, fine, he can come with us,” Namjoon accepted, finally, and Yoongi grinned up at him. “But we still have to talk with Seokjin about this. And with everyone. Don’t think I can’t see Jimin glaring daggers at him.”
Yoongi looked over his shoulder to where they had left the three others by the emergency exit of the building. It seemed like Hoseok and Taehyung were talking about something, already warming up to each other, while Jimin was more reserved, looking at him with a scowl on his face. Hoseok looked even nicer under the light of the early afternoon sun, his skin glowing tan under the clear sunrays. His clothes were not only splashed with infected blood, but they were also old and dirty. His hair was also dirty and far too long, but Yoongi still smiled at the sight of him, not quite knowing why.
Suddenly, Hoseok’s eyes met his, and the moment that happened, the taller man’s smile grew even bigger.
Something weird fluttered inside of Yoongi’s chest, but it was that same thing that made him feel that coming across Hoseok, as awful as the circumstances had been, could be one of the best things that had happened to him.