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The worst part about Jung Hoseok was that Yoongi had never been able to ignore him. He was thin, all arms and elbows and bony ankles, with a perpetually spooked look on his face. He had a crappy haircut and wore loose tank tops like he was jacked or something, but they just made Yoongi want to feed the kid. And when he wasn’t making Yoongi feel all protective, like he had the time and energy for that kind of responsibility, Hoseok would sometimes go through these periods of being hyper, jumping around, getting the younger kids all riled up, laughing hysterically at nothing. He was a little annoying and a lot shy, and he looked like every other skinny, hungry trainee passing through the Big Hit practice rooms.
If it was anyone else, Yoongi would have ignored them. But for some reason, he couldn’t ignore Jung Hoseok.
Maybe it was the way he’d watch Yoongi work, late at night, quiet and unblinking, carefully tracking Yoongi’s every move as he created beats. Maybe it was the way he’d ask Yoongi to listen to him rap, stumbling at first, then better and better, more sure of himself. Maybe it was the way he’d say “Hyung, listen, we need to--” and it never felt like a demand. Whatever it was, Yoongi couldn’t quite shake him -- didn’t want to shake him -- no matter how much he tried to dismiss him.
Namjoon loved the kid. “We gotta have Jung Hoseok,” he announced one day, flopping on Yoongi’s bunk. His legs were too long; they draped awkwardly over the side.
“Yeah?” Yoongi didn’t look up from where he was writing in his notebook, just scrunched up higher on the bed so Namjoon could have more space. The line he was writing wasn’t working and he scratched it out, angry slashes of black across the page.
“He’s got, I don’t know.” Namjoon waved his hands in the air. “Something.”
If it was anyone else, Yoongi might have poked them a little, teased them for being vague, but it was Namjoon, and Yoongi trusted his instincts. They didn’t always get along, as evidenced by the massive brown stain on the wall from where Namjoon had hurled a coffee mug during one of their fights last week, but they trusted each other. If this crazy thing was going to work, this idol hip-hop group, they had to trust each other. That much was clear.
And Namjoon wasn’t wrong anyway. There was something about Jung Hoseok.
Yoongi mostly saw him when he was learning to rap, or trying to sing. They listened to music, Yoongi educating him in the finer points of Nas’ discography, and Hoseok would try and imitate him, stumbling a little on his diction but always on beat. It was cute, how he learned to rap, always using his body to drum out a rhythm through his fingers and smoothly locking his body to the beat. Sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it, which was even cuter.
When Yoongi got himself tangled in knots--which was often, his mind sliding along familiar and anxious paths, looping and tightening around his own thoughts--just being with Hoseok was enough to smooth out the edges. He felt brighter, happier. Like the fear and exhaustion and pain and hard work was maybe going to be worth it.
He’s got, I don’t know, something.
Yoongi had been dating this girl casually when he became a trainee. She was working as a waitress in a seafood restaurant not too far from the Big Hit studios. Her name was Soohee and she had short, shiny, bobbed hair and was a little bit taller than Yoongi, even in sneakers. They went out for drinks sometimes, meeting up late at night after Yoongi got out of work. She was fun, and cute, and Yoongi had this vague idea that she deserved nice things, but he wasn’t sure what those things were or how he could provide them. Sweet girls like her wanted boys who were in college, who could afford to buy them more than shitty coffee and the occasional wilting half-price flowers. In Yoongi’s mind, girls like her deserved guys who didn’t sometimes end up crying in front of the mirror, or who didn’t sometimes panic, out of nowhere, because too many people looked at him a certain way too many times.
It didn’t last long. Yoongi broke it off, stuttering about how she was worth more, how she deserved better. She was visibly annoyed and sighed, “Thanks for telling me what I want, Yoongi. I can make up my own mind, you know.”
It was kind of a mess. Yoongi’s life was a mess, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend and he sure as hell didn’t need to be spending money on one, but Soohee was nice. It had been nice to have something that was just his, a little taste of normalcy in his life. The last person he’d been involved with was another rapper, this Daegu guy who wouldn’t look Yoongi in the eye in broad daylight. Now that had been a mess.
When he broke up with Soohee, Namjoon had stutteringly tried to offer some comfort. “Hyung will be fine, don’t worry Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi had reassured him, more confident than he felt. Hoseok didn’t try to say anything, just squeezed himself next to Yoongi on the couch and poked at the bags under his eyes. “Hyung, you need some BB cream?’ he asked, teasing but a little cautious. “Those red eyes, wow.”
“You’re my least favorite dongsaeng,” Yoongi lied, pushing at Hoseok’s shoulder, before pulling him in again for a side hug. “I think I like Jungkookie better.”
“We all like Jungkookie better,” Hoseok said, smiling fondly over to where Jungkook had fallen asleep on top of one of his math books. He was drooling a little on the cover. He looked so small and fragile. Yoongi couldn’t believe it when he’d joined, that the three of them were going to be responsible for a child, for god’s sake. But it was true, they all loved Jungkook the best.
Yoongi ended up falling asleep on the couch that night, his head pillowed in Jung Hoseok’s bony lap, listening to him trying to teach Jungkook basic algebra.
……….
The first time Yoongi realized that Hoseok was hot was in dance practice. He’d seen Hoseok dance many times and he was incredible: magnetic, perfectly in control, moving preternaturally, in a way that was almost jarring to see a human body move. But Yoongi had seen a lot of artists in his day, he’d seen a lot of talented kids come in as trainees. Hell, he himself was a magnetic performer, as was Namjoon. Hoseok was the real deal, a real hip-hop dancer, a hell of a talent and they were lucky to have him. But it wasn’t the dancing that did it for Yoongi.
What did it for him, apparently, was Jung Hoseok being a little mean.
They were in dance practice and one of the other trainees kept talking shit about a transition. “We need to do it like this,” he kept saying, demonstrating a complicated series of steps. “It’s more impressive.” Every time the transition came up and they did it the way the choreography called for, he’d sigh and complain loudly. Yoongi ignored him. That shit attitude meant he wasn’t going to debut, he’d be gone soon.
But next to him, Hoseok said, loudly and with more force than Yoongi had heard him say anything, “No.”
“Excuse me?” the asshole said, looking at Hoseok, who was stalking toward the front of the room, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tipped downward. Yoongi shivered.
“This is bullshit,” Hoseok said, getting up in the guy’s face, his body posture so dominant that Yoongi thought he was going to have to sit down before he popped a boner. “This is about what’s right for the song, asshole, not some clunky-ass footwork that’s going to look like we’re drunk. Knock it off.”
“Wowwwww,” the guy said, and Yoongi wanted to punch him right there in the practice room. “The great Jung Hoseok can’t do a simple transition, never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, like this?” Hoseok did the sequence perfectly, anger radiating from every line of his body. “How about twice as fast?” He did it again, and Yoongi only kind of knew what he was doing, dance-wise, but he knew BPM, and it was exactly twice as fast. “Backwards?” Hoseok was just showing off now and it was so hot, Yoongi’s face was burning.
Yoongi looked over to where the managers and the choreographers were hanging out, all of them sitting on folding chairs or leaning against the wall, looking on in interest but not interfering. Sometimes Yoongi felt like this whole thing was some kind of fucked-up psychological experiment and he suddenly hated that Hoseok was now the subject.
“Seok-ah,” Yoongi said softly, with a warning tone. Hoseok whipped his head to look at Yoongi, still angry, and Yoongi was going to have to deal with his sudden, unwanted attraction to Jung Hoseok at some point. “Seok-ah,” he said again, letting his eyes drag up and down the asshole’s body with a sneer. “He’ll be gone by the end of the day,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”
After the guy had stormed out, followed by a grim-looking manager, Hoseok announced to the room, “I need a break” and left.
Yoongi wanted to follow him, but he was feeling uneasy and off-balance by the awareness that he wasn’t just close to Hoseok, but he was kind of into him, or at least attracted to him. It was a complication nobody needed. Yoongi had to spend some time locking that down and putting it away before it became a big issue.
Later, when Hoseok came back to the dorm, he threw his bag down and curled up next to Yoongi on the couch. Yoongi stroked the side of his head softy, letting his fine hair fall through his fingers, tugging a little like Hoseok liked.
“I’m sorry,” Hoseok said, his voice a little muffled in Yoongi’s shoulder.
“I’m just worried about you,” Yoongi said. He hesitated, not sure of how much to say. “And...Seok, I don’t want to do this without you. We need you on the team.”
Hoseok raised his head to look at him, his expression guarded. Yoongi never knew what he was thinking, it was so frustrating. And then a smile broke out across his face, starting with a sparkle in his eyes and spreading wide across his pretty mouth. Yoongi’s breath caught in his chest. “Awwww, hyunnng,” Hoseok cooed, his voice getting obnoxiously screechy. “You like meeeee.” He started to crawl into Yoongi’s lap, pinching his cheek.
“Nope, never mind,” Yoongi said, trying to unbalance him, but Hoseok just held on and whooped, laughing. “Get off, get the fuck off, christ Hoseok, get off.”
“I love you tooooo,” Hoseok sang, smacking wet kisses to the top of Yoongi’s head. Yoongi sighed and just let it happen. It was just easier that way.
………..
Not long after that, Kim Taehyung showed up. He was a lanky, pretty kid, with a deep, untrained voice who spoke the thickest Gyeongsang-do satoori Yoongi had ever heard. He was a strange bird, but he had a good heart. Yoongi talked to him in dialect most of the time, gently correcting his Seoul accent when he could. Hoseok immediately adopted him as one of his babies and Namjoon was clearly taken with him.
“They’re trying to up our visual appeal,” Namjoon said, when he and Yoongi were out getting lunch. “But the kid can sing. He’s got a decently developed falsetto, but can you imagine if we let him sing in his natural range? Wow.”
Yoongi hated the idea that they’d just be adding people to look good, but looks were part of this process, and god knows he already hated every part of this process. Taehyung was a good kid, he’d add a lot to their songs.
“Speaking of visual appeal,” Namjoon grimaced. “They found our visual. Street casted some guy right at Konkuk University."
“Yeah, what’s his deal?” Yoongi asked, mildly curious. It was kind of insulting, to have to sit in meeting after meeting while being told that you’re not hot enough and you’d never be quite hot enough, no matter what surgeries the company was willing to shell out for. Still, it bothered him less than Namjoon, even though Namjoon would never say it out loud.
Namjoon snorted. “He’s pretty, that’s it. Can’t dance, can’t rap, can’t sing. And he’s older. Older than you, I think.”
Yoongi heard about Kim Seokjin from Taehyung before he’d actually met him. “I danced for him,” he’d said proudly, and Yoongi really didn’t want to know what that meant.
“Oh, maybe he’ll be my new favorite hyung,” Hoseok mused, and Yoongi just flipped him off.
It was late when Yoongi got back to the dorm. As he climbed into his bunk, he realized that the empty bunk across from him wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with clothes, several plushies, and a handsome, wide-eyed boy.
They stared at each other across the mostly-dark of their room. Yoongi wasn’t used to seeing anyone in the top bunk, it was weird. The whole thing was weird. Seokjin was looking at him, spooked and a little shaky, like he might cry. Yoongi didn’t know what to do; he’d forgotten, somehow, that Jin was only a year older -- only a few months older -- and he looked terrified. Yoongi wondered if he’d ever been away from home before.
“Did you eat?” Seokjin blurted out.
“Uh, what?” Yoongi thought about it. He hadn’t actually. He’d been caught up in a company meeting and then in the studio. “No, I skipped dinner, I think.”
Seokjin was still looking at him, his face expressionless. “Okay,” he said, finally, and started climbing down from his bunk, going quietly so as not to wake anyone else up. Yoongi had no idea what was happening.
“Where are you going?” Yoongi whispered. “It’s late, what the fuck.”
“You haven’t eaten,” Seokjin said, reaching up to tug on Yoongi’s ankle. Yoongi just stared at him. “I’m going to make you ramyun. Come on.”
Oh. “Okay,” Yoongi said, scooting down to where the ladder was and climbing down. “Um, thanks, hyung.”
Jin reached his hand out hesitantly, letting it hover over the back of Yoongi’s neck before finally dropping it down. “I have to take care of you,” he said, a little more firmly. “Now come on and eat.”
…………….
After they’d kicked yet another dance trainee out, Hoseok started making noises about leaving. He was clearly frustrated in practice, desperate to get back on stage. His discomfort was upsetting to the kids; Taehyung spent a lot of time forcing Hoseok into hugs, wrapping his arms and legs around him until he could barely move. Jungkook got even quieter, and he took to following Seokjin around like a little wide-eyed ghost.
“It’s going to happen,” Yoongi told Hoseok. “I promise. We’re doing this, right? We’re doing this together.”
Hoseok stayed quiet. Yoongi wanted to shake him, force him to say what he was thinking, but that wasn’t how you dealt with him. “Tell me about the trainees,” he said, changing the subject. “Anyone good?”
“Park Jimin,” Hoseok said immediately. “If they’re smart, they’ll pick Park Jimin. We don’t have anyone like him on our team.”
“I thought he was having trouble with the choreo,” Yoongi said, more to make conversation than anything. If Hoseok said it was going to be Park Jimin, then that was who it should be.
“He just needs to get out of his head,” Hoseok said. “He’s got charisma like you won’t believe when he’s performing.” He stroked up and down Yoongi’s arm, mindlessly. Yoongi tried not to shiver. He’d been doing an okay job of putting his attraction to Hoseok away. It was a thing he kept buried inside himself, something precious that he took out to look at every once in a while. But right now he just wanted to lean over, kiss him, tell him that everything was going to be okay.
Instead, he said, “Jungkookie fell asleep with his mouth wide open. Do you want to take a picture of him?”
“Only if we can balance things on his forehead,” Hoseok said, already smiling again.
…………………..
They hired Park Jimin and Hoseok was half in love with him. “My Jiminie,” he’d coo, kissing and hugging him. “That’s my Jiminie.” And Jimin would blush or laugh, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but clearly loving it. He was a brat, but Yoongi liked him even more when he was being bratty, and if he could keep Hoseok in the group? Yoongi would kiss Park Jimin full on the mouth.
Management came down with the announcement that Hoseok was going to work with Jo Kwon, to give him some experience rapping on stage. And maybe, Yoongi thought privately, to take care of his itch to debut. Hoseok was nervous at first because he’d never rapped in front of a crowd before, but Yoongi stayed up all hours working with him, helping him with his breath control, going over his lines again and again.
But once Hoseok started practicing with Jo Kwon and his crew, it was all he could talk about. He’d come home all starry-eyed, “Jo Kwon sunbaenim did this” and “Jo Kwon sunbaenim told me that.” He couldn’t stop talking about what it felt like to be practicing for a real stage, for a real performance. Instead of making him more ready to debut, it seemed to fuel his resentment.
Hoseok was going through something, that much was clear. He stopped talking so much, unless it was to talk about how cool, how free, how different Jo Kwon sunbaenim was. He’d watch Yoongi when he didn’t think Yoongi was looking, his eyes tracking his movement and then shifting away. He stopped coming to see Yoongi in his bunk late at night, and he started spending more time with the kids.
In his more paranoid moments, Yoongi thought he knows. Hoseok knew, somehow, that Yoongi was more than half in love with him. But Hoseok never said anything, just stayed quiet, winding tighter and tighter with each passing day.
His tension was bleeding out into the rest of the house, especially to Jimin. Jimin was spending more and more hours in the practice studio, but he was so tense that the extra hours weren’t helping. There were rumors that he might get fired, and Yoongi felt his chances for debut slipping through his fingers.
Finally, inevitably, Hoseok snapped.
They were practicing, it wasn’t going well. The managers were muttering in the corner, and their choreographer had been so harsh to Seokjin that Jungkook started crying in sympathy. “Fuck this,” Hoseok announced. “I’m out.”
Yoongi’s gut dropped to his knees. “Seok-ah,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “Please.”
Hoseok looked at him and swallowed. “Bye, hyung. I--.” He stopped, sighed, and rubbed his hand over his forehead.
He didn’t say anything else as he walked out the door.
That night, Namjoon crawled into bed with Yoongi. He never did this, they never cuddled, not like they did with the kids. And he didn’t really cuddle him now, just kind of awkwardly dropped his hand down to pet at Yoongi’s hair. “You okay?” he asked. They could hear the sounds of Jungkook’s muffled sobs from where he’d climbed into bed with Seokjin. It felt like an appropriate soundtrack.
“Will be,” Yoongi lied. None of this felt okay. Everything felt like it was collapsing, closing in on itself. “Did you know?” Yoongi asked, and he hated that he had to ask. He was Hoseok’s best friend, he should know everything, but Namjoon was the leader, he and Hoseok were close, same age friends. He might have said something.
“No, but we saw it coming.” Namjoon paused. “I talked to management. I said that we were debuting with Jung Hoseok or we weren’t debuting.”
Jesus. It really was all falling apart. “And what did they say?”
“Depends on if he comes back, doesn’t it?” was all Namjoon said, before awkwardly pulling Yoongi into a tight hug.
“Never do that again,” Yoongi said, “that was so awkward.”
“I’m a warm and caring person,” Namjoon said, deadpan. He kicked Yoongi’s leg. “I’ll find him, okay? Don’t worry.”
……………
Hoseok came back the next day. He formally apologized to Bang Sihyuk himself. He apologized to their managers, for making them worry. He met with Namjoon alone for a while, then spent an hour or two hugging and cuddling the kids, kissing them all in turn until they shrieked about how embarrassing he was. Seokjin just whacked him on the shoulder and said, “Yah, you were going to leave me with Jimin as a dance teacher?”
When he was done with all that, he found Yoongi. They curled up together on the couch, not saying anything, just breathing each other in. Yoongi had been mostly angry, and scared, but now that Hoseok was safe at home and in his arms, he felt himself blinking back tears. Only the thought that Hoseok might leave again kept Yoongi from nosing behind his ear, kissing down his neck, tasting him as well as seeing him and feeling him.
“I still think Bangtan Sonyeondan is the worst name I’ve ever heard,” Hoseok said, and his voice sounded a little shaky.
“You and everyone else,” Yoongi said, tightening his arms. “It’s the worst.”
…………………….
Yoongi hadn’t slept in a while. They were hurtling toward debut at this point. After years of waiting, after all the anxiety and fear, it was happening, it was really happening. It had seemed like nothing would happen, like they’d fail before they had the chance to start, and now...well, they still might fail, but at least he’d get the chance to perform his music on stage. Maybe have their own concert someday.
The last thing he needed was to get sick or to let his energy get too low right before debut, so he’d sent himself home at a reasonable hour to try and get some sleep. He felt restless, listening to Jungkook snoring in his bunk and the noises of the city outside.
Faintly, he heard another noise. Someone was coming through the door. He heard the low rumble of their manager’s voice and then some shuffling. The bedroom door opened and Hoseok walked in, neatly placing his bag on the floor next to his bunk before climbing the ladder up to Yoongi’s. He smelled freshly-showered and his hair was still a little damp. “Hi,” he said, snuggling into Yoongi’s side.
“Hi,” Yoongi said, letting him in. “I thought you were going over the choreo with Namjoon and Jin-hyung?”
“I had Jimin take over,” Hoseok said, tracing patterns on the front of Yoongi’s shirt.
Yoongi stayed quiet. Hoseok’s whole body was tense and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.
“We’re going to debut soon,” Hoseok said quietly.
“Yeah,” Yoongi replied. “Really soon, we’re doing this Hoseokie.”
“You’re with me, right?” Hoseok asked suddenly, his body tightening up even more, practically vibrating with tension. “No matter what?”
Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He’d have gutted himself for Jung Hoseok, was the thing. He’d have happily handed him his still-beating heart. He’d do anything for him, and he couldn’t believe that wasn’t so obvious that Hoseok had to ask the question. “I’m with you,” Yoongi said seriously. “No matter what.”
“No matter what,” Hoseok repeated. “God. I-- okay.”
“Seok,” Yoongi said quietly, but Hoseok went on.
“We’re going to debut and I think this all needs to be-- everything needs to be clear,” Hoseok said, a little desperately. Yoongi felt that old pang, he knows, he has to know, but he shoved it away.
“Whatever it is,” Yoongi said, “it’s okay.”
Hoseok didn’t say anything, he just moved his hand from Yoongi’s chest slowly down his arm, letting it rest on the top of Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi froze, his heart pounding. Hoseok trailed his hand along the soft skin on the back of Yoongi’s hand, tracing carefully over each vein and knuckle. He eased the pads of his fingers between Yoongi’s and Yoongi turned his hand over automatically, lacing their fingers together. As their palms touched, Yoongi’s breath hitched. It was just a soft noise, but it sounded louder than fireworks in the dark room.
Gently, carefully, like he could feel how scared Yoongi was, Hoseok raised himself up on one arm, his other hand still holding Yoongi’s, his thumb gently caressing the side of Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi couldn’t see his face in the dark, though it probably wouldn’t have done him any good, he had a feeling that Hoseok’s face was perfectly blank, in the way it always was when he got nervous.
Hoseok came closer, his face just a formless blob in the dark, until he came close enough to rest his forehead against Yoongi’s. They breathed together like that, Hoseok’s heart thudding against Yoongi’s ribs, hands entwined, until Hoseok leaned down and pressed a quick, dry kiss against Yoongi’s lips.
Yoongi made a sound, an embarrassingly needy sound that he really didn’t mean to make, and Hoseok said “Okay?”
Instead of answering him, Yoongi kissed him back, slower and softer. “Oh my god,” he mumbled against Hoseok’s lips. “Oh my god. Really okay.”
Hoseok kissed his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, then back to his mouth. “I’ve never done anything like--” he said, groping for the words, “but I can’t stop thinking about you like this.”
“I have,” Yoongi said, bringing up their linked hands and kissing Hoseok’s knuckles, one-two-three-four-five. “But not in a long time. Because I can’t stop thinking about you like this either.” He kissed Hoseok again, biting a little on his lower lip, like he’d always wanted to. “We’ll have to tell Namjoon,” he said, reluctantly.
“I already told him,” Hoseok said, his voice dripping with disbelief. “After all we’ve gone through? I wasn’t going to screw it up.”
“Did he know?” Yoongi asked. “About me, did he know I liked you?”
“What, were you pining after me, hyung?” Hoseok asked, teasing. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Yoongi’s. “Were you in love with me from afar?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, and it was supposed to come out sarcastic, but it was soft instead. He never could resist Jung Hoseok, didn’t even try anymore.
“Me too,” whispered Hoseok. “But I didn’t understand.”
They kissed for a little bit after that, giggling in between kisses, shushing each other when they heard Taehyung make a noise in his sleep. Yoongi couldn’t believe he was allowed to do this now, allowed to kiss the tip of Hoseok’s nose and the mole on his lip and the apples of his cheekbones, just like this, any time he wanted.
As their kissing slowed down, Hoseok laid his head on Yoongi’s chest and sighed. “Bangtan Sonyeondan,” he said, laughing a little. “It’s still terrible. God, it’s so bad.”
“It’s terrible,” Yoongi agreed. “But we’re all in it together.”
“Maybe we can change it in the future,” Hoseok murmured sleepily.
“Let’s debut first,” Yoongi said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “And then we’ll see what happens.”