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“Remind me why I came here again?”
“Because you love me,” Jimin says, his voice just barely audible over the music coming from his surround sound speakers. Hoseok raises his eyebrows and smiles, but decides not to make a comment in response. Jimin loops his hand in Hoseok’s arm, tugging him into the penthouse.
There’s at least a hundred people in the house—maybe even more—but everyone seems to know everyone to some degree. Hoseok leans down into Jimin’s ear. “I need you to point me to the drink table or else I’m going to end up running out of here in five minutes flat.”
Jimin pulls back and rolls his eyes. “Hobi-hyung, we all know you’re gonna run out of here whether you drink or not. It's just that if you drink, you'll stay for more than ten minutes.”
“That’s not the point,” Hoseok says, offended. He looks around the crowded living room. The whole reason he even agreed to attending Jimin’s party was because they were friends—Jimin was the first person Hoseok clicked with in university—and the party is in celebration of a new magazine release with Jimin’s face on the front cover. He had done several modelling shoots before, but none of them were this big. Initially, Jimin had invited immediate friends and family (and this was the stage Hoseok had agreed to come), but then he extended the invitation to old workplace friends, a few distance university classmates, and fellow modelling-world friends that were excited to see Jimin's big break. “Who’s here that I actually know?”
“Yoongi-hyung is out of town and Joon-hyung couldn’t make it in the end,” Jimin starts, and Hoseok feels himself deflate. “But I invited everyone else from the inner university circle. You know them.”
“I know Taehyung,” Hoseok corrects. “Your inner circle is made up of twenty people, I only know Taehyung, and isn’t he busy grinding on that blond guy by the speakers?”
Jimin stretches on his toes to see from Hoseok’s angle. “Ah, he’s dancing with Seokjin! I’ve been meaning to set them up for the longest time—” He drifts off and brings Hoseok to the kitchen entrance. “Anyways, that’s not true. You remember Jeon Jeongguk, don’t you?”
A brief flash of recognition goes through Hoseok’s brain. “Well, yes, but—”
“Great—he’s standing there in the black hoodie. Have fun, hyung!”
“Wh—” Hoseok doesn’t even have a chance to blink before Jimin pushes him further into the kitchen. With his luck, he successfully stumbles into Jeongguk-in-the-black-hoodie and almost successfully knocks his drink over.
“God, I’m really sorry.” Hoseok backs up immediately, keeping his eyes trained on the cluttered counter. “I didn’t—Jimin pushed me into—ah…”
He loses his train of thought when the guy in front of him bends down to meet his gaze with the widest doe eyes he’s ever seen. (Rather, it’s been a while since he’s seen them.) “Hoseok-hyung? Is that you?”
The last time Hoseok had seen Jeongguk—really seen him—was almost a year ago at a dinner with Jimin’s large inner circle, and the kid still had light blue braces, glasses that poorly framed his face, and hair that covered his entire forehead. His features had been soft and underdeveloped and he was always more drawn into himself. Looking at the Jeongguk in front of him now, without the metal and as much hair and, presumably, with contacts, Hoseok feels his face warm up. Since then, the two would see each other from afar—eating with friends, in a common room, in the library—but they would only wave and continue with their lives. “Ah, Jeonggukkie. Long time no see.”
Jeongguk laughs, and Hoseok thinks it’s one of the most magical sounds to ever escape a person’s lips. He stands up straight again and Hoseok’s gaze follows the movement. “How, uh—” Hoseok swallows. “How’ve you been?”
“Really good! I’m in my final year of computer science. Waiting back on a few internship applications, but that’s about it.” He takes a sip from his red cup. “I’m still working at that ramen place on campus. How are you?”
“Same old. I’m teaching dance full time at the place we—Jimin and I—used to practice at, but my life’s turned into work, dance, sleep, repeat.” Jeongguk nods in understanding. Hoseok looks around the kitchen in an attempt to find the drinks, but to no avail. He’s getting nervous. “I’m really glad to see you. I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone here.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Jeongguk croons. He takes another sip, but maybe Hoseok has made his unfocused attention too obvious because the younger boy lets out a laugh. “Here, hyung. Let me fix you a drink.”
“Something light, please.” He follows Jeongguk to another portion fo the counter where, lo and behold, a giant, half-full punch bowl rests. Jeongguk scoops the liquid into a new cup for Hoseok first, handing it to him before refilling his own and adding more hard liquor to the mix.
Both of them turn their backs to the counter to lean against it. Hoseok takes the first sip of his drink—it’s fruity, light, and probably doused with sweet liquers—when Jeongguk leans into him, his breath warm against Hoseok’s ear. “Want me to share how I’ve been coping with this party so far?”
Hoseok nods. Jeongguk immediately points to Taehyung and the blond guy. “Exhibit A. There are many, many more, though. It’s even better when you focus only on their faces.”
Of course, Jeongguk isn’t wrong. They move from the kitchen to the edge of the large living room, people-watching as they go along, seeing who’s dancing with whom (while focusing on their faces) or who’s talking to who (while focusing on their actions). At one point Hoseok almost chokes on his punch when they catch sight of a woman in heels almost fall down the stairs. While observing, they don’t hestiate to sing along or make critiques about Jimin’s music choice, even though they both know it’s Spotify-curated.
At one point, Jeongguk’s entire being lights up at a song’s intro, but once the lyrics start the excitement leaves his face. Hoseok smiles. Over the music, he says, “What’s wrong, Guk-ah? You looked so happy just then.”
“The didn’t play the song I thought they would.” Jeongguk grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “I got excited for nothing.”
With the number of people that had arrived in the past hour and a bit, Hoseok decides to take advantage of the moment to get himself away from the party, and if all goes well, he wouldn’t have to leave alone. Maybe it’s the jungle juice, but Hoseok allows his lips to graze Jeongguk’s ear before he speaks. “Why don’t we go outside for a little while and disappear? You can show me the song you like instead of listening to disappointment.”
When Jeongguk initially pulls away, Hoseok worries that he’s said something wrong, but then he registers the relieved smile on the younger boy’s face. He takes Hoseok’s hand in his. “I thought you’d never ask me to leave.”
Minutes later, the two of them are sitting on the fire escape just outside of Jimin’s bedroom window. They’re halfway between the penthouse’s top floor and the roof of the building. The only light they have to work off of comes from faint city lights; the tiny light at the top of their flight of stairs blinks a wink blue every few seconds.
Jeongguk downs the rest of his cup. When he puts it down against the metal stair, it makes a small tin clang. Hoseok stares at the remaining half of his—it’s room temperature at this point, but he’s enjoying his time with Jeongguk too much to jeopardize it by drinking any more or getting any tipsier. “Say, do you get as nervous as I do during large parties?”
“You could say that.” Jeongguk is calm—his eyes seem to trace the skyline while his lips hold a small smile. “I always worry that people will rub me the wrong way if I don’t know them or if we don’t get along, and that it…won’t stop. At just the party, I mean.” He pauses. “Even if we don’t speak much afterwards.”
Hoseok scoffs, but it’s more towards himself than Jeongguk. “Ah, but you at least have a reason. I just can’t handle being around so many people I don’t know in a setting like that. It’s claustrophobic.”
“It’s still valid, hyung. No need to put yourself down.”Jeongguk unzips his black hoodie and sits back, tilting his head to the night sky.
Hoseok smiles. He turns to look back at the city lights in the distance. So maybe he’s managed to develop a crush on Jeongguk in the near-two hours they’ve spent together. He thinks back to the Jeongguk he knew last year and how he appeared different, acted different, held himself differently. It may only be september and the beginning of Jeongguk’s second semester of his final year, but he seems more confident, more relaxed…
“Hey Jeonggukkie.” Hoseok croons the words in his aegyo voice, stretching his hand up to rest on Jeongguk’s thigh. The boy’s leg muscles tense at the touch and his head snaps back to look at Hoseok with wide eyes. Hoseok does his best not to think much of it. In his normal voice, he says, “You’ve grown more confident, yah? What happened? Got a girlfriend?”
The muscles under Hoseok’s hand twitch and Jeongguk laughs. “No, it’s—I don’t think it’s that. I’m still single, too, but… ah, I don’t know if I’ll ever get a girlfriend.”
“You don’t know?” Hoseok repeats. Even in the low light, Jeongguk seems to get embarrassed at the comment. If Hoseok’s reading their conversation in the way he hopes he’s reading it—and correctly—then this night is going a lot better than he thought it would. “All in good time, then—girlfriend or boyfriend. They’ll be happy with you, that’s for sure.”
The last bit of tension seems to release from Jeongguk’s leg. “Thanks, hyung.”
“Ah, ah,” he tuts. “Don’t thank me know. Chances are I’m gonna want to kiss you before the night is over.” He winks despite Jeongguk’s sudden spluttering. “Wanna go to the roof and have our own dance party? You still need to show me that song you were talking about. And we’ll be back in time for Jimin to cut the cake—I promise.”
Jeongguk thinks about it for a moment, but the unsuccessful, held-back smile on his face tells Hoseok the decision isn’t all that difficult. “Let me grab something a little stronger from the kitchen and I’ll come back. I’m too sober to dance yet.”
And that’s how Hoseok ends up on the roof of Jimin’s building, the penthouse directly under their feet, listening to a Marshmello song Hoseok didn’t know existed, with his gaze trained on the boy’s active figure. He had brought up two red cups when he went to refill his, challenging Hoseok to a chugging contest, and Jeongguk claims Hoseok only won because his drink was sweeter and lighter.
And that’s how Hoseok ends up on the roof of Jimin’s building, the penthouse directly under their feet, listening to a Marshmello song Hoseok didn’t know existed, with his gaze trained on Jeongguk’s flexible figure. The song plays through Jeongguk’s iPhone speakers, and while Apple has come a long way from their first model, they pale in comparison to Jimin’s surround sound. (When a song with heavy bass plays, he feels the roof vibrate under his feet.) Even still, Hoseok finds himself moving along to whatever he can hear of the song. The English lyrics may be a little lost on him, but he doesn’t care—he’s sitting on the raised area in the middle of the roof, too busy enjoying a drunk Jeongguk’s presence. He had let loose even more since their moment on the fire escape.
He had danced—very loosely—to two songs before the Marshmello one, but when the fourth song begins he moves to grab both of Hoseok's hands in his and pull him up to dance. Hoseok stumbles onto his feet, making an exasperated noise. “Ah, Jeon Jeongguk, I can’t dance while tipsy—I’m—I just feel tired—”
“Lies,” Jeongguk laughs, and maybe he’s right, but Hoseok isn’t about to tell him that. Jeongguk pulls him closer, and Hoseok’s just a little bit panicky because Jeongguk is slightly taller and slightly bulkier than he is (and he isn’t sure when that happened—or if it had always been like that). “You know this better than anyone. Just relax and it’ll come to you.”
“You have no idea how many sexual jokes can come out of that,” Hoseok scolds him, but he’s smiling when he pulls back and stretches himself out as best he can. “Here—let me put on a song this time.”
So Hoseok picks his song. He dances whatever moves he can with a swimming mind in order to avoid breaking his neck, and before he knows it the song is over and Hoseok feels the sweat coat his entire body. He hears Jeongguk clapping and smiles, and then he beckons for Jeongguk to dance with him—some moves are well done; others could be labelled as the bane of their existence. All of their moves are expressed as though no one’s watching, and, next to the two of them, no one is; when the nth song begins to play, Hoseok takes a seat and peels his shirt off. He closes his eyes and welcomes the late summer air with open arms as it tickles his skin. “Okay, okay—that felt really good. I haven’t danced for myself in so long.”
“And you almost didn’t do it,” Jeongguk reminds him. The younger boy stretches his arms wide and audibly exhales, turning his entire body towards the wind. He had discarded his black hoodie a few songs earlier; when the breeze rustles Jeongguk's shirt, Hoseok notices it catch on curves that he was sure Jeongguk didn't have. He watches Jeongguk watching the city like that, and he doesn’t turn away even when Jeongguk’s gaze leaves the the skyline, his body still turned away.
As if on cue, he asks, “Hyung, do you mind if I do…something?”
“As long as you don’t cause yourself bodily harm or anything of the like, yes.” Hoseok waves his hand in front of him.
Jeongguk presses his lips together and nods, pulling his white t-shirt off from the bottom hem and holding it tight in one fist. His arms are still open, his smile is still exhilarating, and his cheeks seem even rosier than they did a few minutes ago. (Hoseok didn’t think the latter was possible since Jeongguk’s drunken glow is pretty intense, but this clearly isn't the case.)
“Ah, that feels so good,” Jeongguk half-shouts. He turns towards Hoseok entirely and lowers his arms to his sides, and his smile is full of relief. Hoseok raises his eyebrows; he can’t help his surprise at Jeongguk’s bare chest, no matter how many hints he had received. While Jeongguk sported a still-forming set of abs, his stomach was lean, his waist still small, and his breasts dipped slightly. All in all, it’s still quite a sight.
Jeongguk moves to sit beside Hoseok. “I'm sorry.”
“Sorry?” Hoseok furrows his eyebrows. “What for?”
“Mm.” Jeongguk shrugs. “Being trans isn’t an everyday thing, I guess. It was hot today so I didn’t bother with my binder, but it still got really warm really fast. Especially when we were inside.” He leans back on his arms, palms flat on the concrete behind him. “You’re one of the very few people I’ve been genuinely comfortable around, even though I haven’t seen you in a while. So I'm sorry if this whole thing seems…strange.”
“It’s not strange,” Hoseok tells him, and Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. "Guk-ah, don’t give me that look. I was surprised, yeah, but that moment’s over. It’s nothing to apologize for.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything; he only smiles a small, sad smile. Hoseok lightly punches his arm. “So,” he continues, “is this the reason you’ve become more confident lately?”
“Ah…yeah.” Jeongguk’s flush doesn't disappear, but the sheepish expression returns. He leans further back—onto an elbow—and brings one hand up to rub the back of his neck. When he speaks, he looks straight ahead. “My parents are kind about it all, even though they’ve said they don’t entirely understand. My mom helped me get T a while back...and let me tell you, hyung, it feels really good. I feel better like this. I’ve been getting shots for almost a year now—I don’t have the body I want just yet, but it’s definitely getting there. I’m happier.”
Hoseok hums in affirmation. “I’m glad.” He gaze never leaves Jeongguk, not really, because he’s looking at his more-built physique and his lackadaisical confidence—even if the only reason is because he’s drunk. Hoseok notices other small things, too: the sharpness of Jeongguk’s jaw, the firm set of his shoulders…
After everything, Hoseok’s travelling gaze lands on Jeongguk’s small, pink lips. From the corner of his eye, Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “What’s that look?”
“The night isn’t over yet and I still want to kiss you,” Hoseok states matter-of-factly, watching as Jeongguk cracks a smile. “If you’ll still let me, that is.”
“Here I am, laying down, half-naked, and you’re asking me if I want you to kiss me. Apologies, Hoseok-hyung, but what kind of backwards-assed—”
Hoseok leans over to kiss Jeongguk, and he can’t help smiling against the younger boy’s lips because of the sqeuak that came out when Jeongguk’s breath hitched. Their lips move in sync with each other and Jeongguk’s tongue tastes like the strongest alcohol in the world, but there’s no way Hoseok wants this moment to end. He moves his hand to run its way up Jeongguk’s stomach, past his chest, around the back of his neck to pull him closer—
“Hobari! Gukkie! Are you up here?”
Jeongguk pulls back and curses under his breath. “Fuck, Jimin doesn’t—he doesn’t know—”
Hoseok presses his lips to Jeongguk’s again in an attempt to keep his muffled protests at bay. He moves to throw his leg over Jeongguk’s abdomen and flattens his chest against Jeongguk's. From the way Jeongguk responds to his sudden actions, Hoseok can tell he had caught on.
There’s clanging on the stairs, punctuated by Jimin’s groan. “Ah, Jeongguk—I texted you! The cake’s ready. I want both of you by me when I cut it. Put your shirts back on and stop dry-humping each other.”
Hoseok stops kissing Jeongguk to give Jimin a look, keeping the younger boy under and against him. “We’ll come down, Jiminnie. Entertain your guests for another minute while we wrap up.”
Jimin scrunches his nose. “Gross,” he mutters, but he walks back down the fire escape.
Hoseok waits until the metallic footsteps stop completely before lifting himself up off Jeongguk. He looks down at a dazed Jeongguk, with swollen lips and a confused look in his eyes. Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Park Jimin, one of your closest friends, doesn’t know you’re trans.”
“He used the right pronouns off the bat,” Jeongguk says with a pout. “I’ll tell him at some point.”
“If you say so. Come on—let’s help Jimin cut his cake.” Hoseok stands up and moves to put his shirt on. He watches as Jeongguk, still drunk enough to be considered uncoordinated, misses the zipper closure on his hoodie. When he tries—and fails—to do it up another two times, Hoseok crouches in front of where Jeongguk still sits. He does it up just as the boy mutters a disgruntled thanks under his breath.
“Jeon Jeongguk, you’re a mess. I’m not letting you near the cake knife.”
Jeongguk snorts and looks away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Hoseok catches Jeongguk’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to direct his attention back to him. “Jeon Jeongguk,” he repeats, “I want to take your mess of an ass on a date sometime.”
The younger boy presses his lips together in a thin line in yet another attempt to hold back a smile. “That was horrible, but how about we figure out a date plan and time after we cut Jimin-hyung’s cake?”
“Sure.” Hoseok reaches up to kiss Jeongguk again. When he pulls back, he stands up. “I can wait that long.”