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“Are you serious? They fucking talked shit about you! About my best fucking friend! No one can do that!” Hoseok gesticulates widely. Yoongi winces at the harshness in his best friend’s voice. Hoseok’s been going on for minutes, aggressively ranting about fuckers disrespecting his best friend, all loud in Yoongi’s face.
He’s making it hard for him. Cleaning wounds when one’s moving constantly is hard. And annoying. Yoongi lets out a silent sigh, close to shouting back and closes his eyes for a moment. He’s the sane one between them two. It’d just add fire to Hoseok’s burning soul and then they’ll probably yell and fight over nothing.
Hoseok doesn’t notice his best friend trying not to snap because he keeps talking and talking.
“God, Seok, stop moving or I’m gonna stab your eye with that damn cotton pad.” He groans quietly with a little pout, slurring his words like he always does. He chooses to tap over the bloodied cheek of his friend a little bit harder instead of shouting. “And you talk shit ‘bout me all the time, you doof.” He adds softly when he gets Hoseok’s attention for a second. He looks silly with his mouth wide open so Yoongi snorts.
It doesn’t last because his friend scoffs. Then winces when the alcohol gets fully to his opened cheek. “Yeah but I’m your best friend, Yoongs,” it sounds like something valid, for both of them. “And they’re not. And they made fun of you for what? Uh?”
Yoongi’s really about to reply but Hoseok doesn’t let him. “For wearing clothes with soft colours? For being gay? For wearing that powder on your cheeks or whatever it is? What kind of assholes? I swear to god, Yoongs. I’m gonna—”
“You’re not gonna do a thing, yes. You already did too much. Look at you.” Yoongi quickly cuts him off, ignoring the somersaults his heart does at Hoseok’s strong and protective voice. He feels the tip of his ears heating up because Hoseok just said it all so effortlessly and it shouldn’t be that easy.
He hopes Hoseok doesn’t look at his ears. Firstly, they’re ugly, and secondly, he’d ask why he’s flustered.
Instead, he sighs heavily, shoulders slumping at Hoseok’s sight, the cotton ball in his hand almost forgotten. Hoseok looks like shit. The man’s dumb sometimes. Well, most of the times but this time, he outdid himself.
Starting a fight with three people by yourself? Only Jung Hoseok would. And for what? For Yoongi? Only Jung Hoseok.
Fridays are the only week days Yoongi has without any schedule. No classes, no club, no laboratory special classes, nothing. It’s nice. He usually spends it at the university studios with Namjoon or Jeongguk. He likes watching them make music. And Jeongguk has a nice voice. Nobody needs to know he finds solace in the way his two friends steal glances at each other when they think the other one’s not watching. It’s endearing. It makes him sad too. He craves for this type of love. Soft and innocent. Intense and real. He doesn’t have that.
So he often watches Namjoon and Jeongguk sharing meaningful glances, touches and smiles. It calms his heart. He tells himself he doesn’t need more. He has Hoseok. And his friends. It’s enough, for now. He craves love but he already has it. He doesn’t let himself think about the kind of love he truly wants. He can’t have it, he’s sure of it. So why think of it, hm?
The one he wants to love forever wouldn’t want him like that. He knows he goes for other people. Never him.
Yet he’s the one Hoseok always goes to. In a sea of people, Yoongi likes to think Hoseok would be able to find him – likes to think he’d choose him over a mass of people. In his dreams, Hoseok only looks at him.
Right now, Hoseok’s only looking at him. Staring at him with a frown.
Fridays are great days, for Yoongi. He was supposed to stay home all day long and nap his life away. It was the plan. It didn’t include a knock on his door at ten in the morning while he was trying to decide if he should paint his nails. It didn’t include finding his best friend all bloody and looking miserable yet smiling, radiant and victorious on the other side of his apartment door.
Now Hoseok is sitting at his kitchen table and Yoongi has been cleaning the mess he made for awhile. He’s standing close to Hoseok, almost in between his legs, with Hoseok’s legs spread apart to give him space. His friend has his head tilted backwards towards Yoongi. And he’s been listening to him ranting about how he found those guys that made fun of Yoongi some days ago, right in his face.
(“Don’t scold me, Yoongs, I really tried not to hit one of them,” Hoseok doesn’t even sound sorry or sheepish. “I promise,” he adds, as if Yoongi’s going to trust his words.
If anything, they both know Hoseok was probably the first one to punch the enemy.
Yoongi’s unimpressed expression as he stands in the middle of his doorway with Hoseok still outside, on the other side of his door makes him pout a little – and he curses under his breathe because it pulls on his bruised skin.
“I was walking by and those fuckers called me the fag’s friend. I didn’t control my fist, ‘m sorry. They kept going. So I kept going too.” Hoseok gives him a smile full of mischief and Yoongi sighs before pulling him inside. “You’re an idiot, Seok-ah. Come on, I'll patch you up.”)
“You can’t fucking stop me, Yoongs. I mean, what’s wrong if you’re gay, uh? What’s wrong if my best friend is gay? Wow, nothing. They’re idiots. I’m gonna—”
“Hoseok. Shut it.”
He manages to make Hoseok grumble under his breath and gets a glare from him when he presses the cotton ball into his cheek again. The fucker manages to make him feel guilty.
He really doesn’t want to hurt Hoseok more than he already is but if he lets him talk like that, he might just turn into liquid, flustered because Hoseok accepting and defending him like that makes him feeling all sorts of things – that he isn’t supposed to feel.
The boy remains silent while he cleans up his face.
-
“Hey, that’s a new one, right?” Hoseok quietly queries after a while.
Yoongi almost misses Hoseok’s nose bridge and shoves the cotton ball soaked with alcohol in his best friend’s eye when he feels warm hands grabbing the end of his soft sweater.
Hoseok’s eyeing the fabric, running his fingers against it and raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head upwards to look at Yoongi better, with genuine curiosity glowing in his eyes. When Yoongi looks back at him, he ignores the way his stomach does a little flip.
That’s a thing they do. More like, a thing Hoseok does. He always cares about Yoongi. Always notices the smallest things. And it’s always been like this. When they were kids, he would always smile widely and ask if the cute clip Yoongi had in his hair was new. It turned into asking if he had new clothes, new makeup. He even noticed the soft makeup Yoongi did.
Anyone would think it was too intimate for friends. People often thought they were a thing.
But it was one of their things, best friends things. Hoseok would ask, Yoongi would reply. Hoseok would care the most, Yoongi would care the most as well. It was normal for them.
Sometimes Yoongi wishes it would be special, but throughout the years, it’s always been like this. A fixed habit.
It makes him hate how Hoseok always cares so much, sometimes. He loves it at the same time. He feels himself overwhelmed by the attention. “Oh, yeah.” He mutters, quickly going back to clean Hoseok’s jaw this time.
He tries not to think about how soft and honey-like Hoseok’s skin is. Hoseok hums.
“Guk and I went shopping yesterday. He needed to relax,” he explains softly. It’s a thing they do. When one of them is stressed, the two of them go shopping. It’s easier to shop together. No need to care about the judging and pointed glances. They can pick pretty clothes without worrying too much. It’s fun. Jeongguk sometimes lets him pick some makeup for him. The younger male looks pretty with glitters on his eyelids. Sometimes Yoongi wishes he’d be this pretty.
Going shopping with Hoseok is a whole other story. Hoseok’s ridiculous. He always picks the most hideous pieces, assembling them together and manages to make everything look good on him. Yoongi doesn’t get it.
One time, Hoseok styled him. They both laughed a lot. Leather jackets and pants don’t look good on Yoongi. It clashes with his pastel hair and just – his whole persona.
(“Hyung, you look badass, wow,” Hoseok compliments him, nodding as his eyes trail up and down Yoongi’s figure. “Just like a little me.” He grins cheekily. That’s when Yoongi knows Hoseok finds him ridiculous. He does too.
So Yoongi whines and closes the curtain of the fitting room. He looks ridiculous, leather is uncomfortable. He hates it. His lips still curve into a small smile when he hears Hoseok laughing out loud from the other side.
He ends up buying basic black jeans and a pastel shirt. He misses the way Hoseok glares at every single person that stares a little bit too long at Yoongi’s pastel clothes or his glossy lips.)
“It’s pretty,” Hoseok finally says with a shrug when he’s done smoothing the sweat over Yoongi’s skin. “I like it. Suits you, Yoongs.” He softly finishes.
Now Yoongi feels heat creeping up to his cheeks. He doesn’t say a thing because he might stutter and embarrass himself. The way Hoseok says it so simply makes him all bothered inside.
He just grabs another cotton pad, pours some alcohol on it and asks Hoseok to give him his bruised hands. His knuckles are bloody. They’re pretty and shouldn’t look like this. It makes Yoongi upset. Hoseok’s long and soft fingers aren’t made to fight. But Hoseok often does.
He shouldn’t but he feels proud and happy when he thinks about how Hoseok hurt himself just to defend him. He feels guilty, too. Jung Hoseok always gets himself in shitty situation for Yoongi.
Like the time Hoseok was grounded for a week when he skipped school just so he could attend Yoongi’s silly maths contest. At least Yoongi won like a champ. It was a good night. Hoseok hugged him and shouted about him being the smartest best friend, all night long. Yoongi’s fourteen year-old self fell a little bit more for the loud boy that night.
Or like that time, when Hoseok borrowed his mom’s car so he could take Yoongi to the annual flower market that took place in a city that was two hours away from Seoul. They were lucky no one arrested them. Yoongi wasn’t worried because Hoseok was about to pass his licence at that time. His seventeen year-old self had hugged the hell out of Hoseok. The way Hoseok had lifted him up from the ground so easily, arms tight around him had left him a little bit breathless.
He always feels a little bit breathless when Jung Hoseok is around.
“Did you at least make sure those idiots looked worse than you, Seok?”