Chapter Text
the things min yoongi loved could be counted on one hand.
in fact, there were only three.
art. melancholic melodies on an old piano. lost words that found their place on a thin piece of paper. hidden messages in old paintings and sad undertones in happy songs. the intensity of cold statues and the way they seemed to be alive. the way dancers spun around on a stage as if they had wings and did not belong to this world. street poetry. all those little things that made this ugly world just a slightly better place. all those little things that proved nothing was entirely hopeless. all those little things that managed to take yoongi's breath away despite only being little things with no significance. all those little things he held onto when there was nothing else left.
5 a.m. - his favorite time of the day. the sky would still be dark, but not as dark as it was an hour earlier. the air would be cold, cold enough to make the tips of his fingers feel numb and his breath cloudy, but not cold enough to make him get back inside. on that time of the day, many people were already awake, but everything would be quiet and peaceful. there was nothing to feel but the wind blowing through his platinum blond hair and the tingly feeling at his fingertips, as if he was being poked by a thousand tiny needles. there was nothing to hear but the faint sound of leaves scraping the ground as the wind carried them around endlessly and the peaceful psithurism that sounded like soft whispers in his ears. there was nothing to see but the moon still hanging in the sky, staring back at the blue haired boy as if saying, i dare you.
and a smile. exactly at 5 a.m. every single morning, there was the same smile, the smile that was the only reason yoongi was still breathing. a curve of a lovely pair of heart shaped lips that belonged to an even more lovely cherry red haired boy. a lovely, cherry red haired boy whose name was unknown to yoongi, but whose smile was the reason he was still alive. because how could he die when there was something as beautiful as this smile in the world? how could he give up so many more mornings of silently watching the crosucading boy as the latter made his way to his small, purple car? it were no more than ten seconds a day, but every day those ten seconds made yoongi promise himself he'd be here tomorrow, too.
and that was how he'd been living for two years: alone, kept alive by a smile of someone he did not know. every day he wondered how long he could continue living this way, or what would happen if one day he woke up and didn't see his beautiful neighbor leave his house with his foudroyant smile and his cheerful walk to his car. what would happen if one day he disappeared? what if one day he was gone?
then, surely, yoongi would be gone, too, after less than an hour.
it was pathetic, wasn't it? his life depended on a small curve of a stranger's mouth. there was literally no worse situation than that.
the only bad thing that could happen now was if the stranger would stop appearing.
but would it really be bad? would it really matter if yoongi died, anyways? no one cared about him. no one loved him. no one would even notice if he was gone. the police would probably find his corpse a few months later, when his landlord would complain he wasn't answering his phone. and then they would try to find his family, only to find out he didn't have one. there would be no funeral and the world would just continue being the way it was. nothing would change.
the stranger would still smile every morning.
yoongi wasn't content with this. he didn't like the way he lived. he hated the fact that he could have done so many good things in his life, could have visited so many places, could have meant some many things to so many people. that was the thing that really broke him - he could have been someone. but he'd already hit rock bottom long ago, and he didn't have the power or the motivation to get back up. what did it matter, anyways?
yoongi's life didn't matter more than the pile of dead leaves he was staring at right now.
it was five minutes to five in the morning, and yoongi had been awake all night. he hadn't had any sleep the last three days, but he wasn't really tired. or he just didn't notice he was tired, because he always was. his finger was tapping the cold fence of his balcony in a rhythm of a melody he'd heard a few days ago in the supermarket - which was the last time he ate - but except for that, he was standing completely still, barely even bothering to blink.
it was a friday morning, which meant he didn't have to go to work. he'd been working in a small music store for three months now, and surprisingly, he managed to arrive every time he was needed, but yoongi knew no one would care if he didn't come anyway. he didn't hate his job or anything - it was actually good money, and the owner of the store was kind enough to offer to pay the for yoongi's small apartment until he got more stable - but it was sometimes - always - extremely tiring to walk down the stairs and all the way to the corner of his street where the store was.
nowadays everything was tiring to him. even the smallest task would leave him exhausted, which was why he only bothered to buy food once in two weeks and only got out of bed when he had to work and to go outside to see the stranger. he was physically drained, emotionally marcid and mentally more dead than the houseplant on the table of his balcony he failed to take care of.
not that he cared or anything.
right when the pile of leaves yoongi was staring at was suddenly carried away by the wind, the door of the building next to him opened. yoongi immediately snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his mind from everything, and looked at the door in anticipation.
and there he was, as breathtaking as always, standing just five meters below yoongi's balcony. everything about the stranger was so familiar, even though yoongi had never spoken to him or even exchanged glances with him before. from his red, old, ragged converse highs to his pastel blue - or sometimes pink or gray - knitwear jumper; from his black skinny jeans to the way his cherry red hair blew in the wind; yoongi recognized at all as if the stranger was his closest friend.
which, he assumed, was true.
and everything about the stranger was just so beautiful. the way he carried himself so carelessly, how the colors he picked for his hair - until now, pastel pink, orange, amaranthine and red - always changed the way he looked completely but still matched him perfectly, how his eyes darted from object to object and practically shone all the time, and his smile.
yoongi followed the stranger with his eyes as the latter made his way to his car, which was parked on the other side of the street. he was talking on the phone, but yoongi was too far away to hear his voice. he imagined the stranger didn't have a high voice, or a low one, but something in between. he imagined him always speaking with a cheerful tone, no matter what he said, and he imagined it probably made everyone around him happier.
maybe hearing the stranger's voice was something he could look forward to. he wasn't allowed to take his own life until he heard the stranger's voice.
maybe he'd run into him when - if - he took out the trash this evening. even though he never bothered to go outside when the stranger came back from work.
maybe one day yoongi would look at the stranger, and the stranger would look right back at him.
-
Jung Hoseok loved his life. He loved his life and everything in it.
He loved his family the most. He didn't know what he'd do without them. They'd been supporting him since he was young - supported his dance career and everything he wanted - and loved him unconditionally, more than he could ever ask for. They kept him going when he gave up at the age of nineteen, when he was in a car accident and didn't think he would ever be able to stand up again. They kept him going when he just wanted to stop because it was too painful to walk, let alone dance. They kept him going when nothing worked out and he had to quit his job and look for another, and found himself living in a small apartment with no friends around.
Hoseok loved his apartment despite the fact that he lived there alone, far away from all his relatives. He'd moved there two years ago, around the time his leg had fully recovered from the accident, and he loved it wholeheartedly. Everything felt familiar - the scent of cookies that always lingered in the air, the ocean blue color of the walls, the glass doors that lead to the small balcony, the flowers and plants in every possible place. Since he lived alone, and he didn't have many guests, he didn't need much. And his apartment wasn't much at all, but it was a place he could consider home.
Hoseok also loved his job. He was a dancer since he was a young boy, and two years ago he pursued his dream of being in an actual, professional group. It required him to get up early every morning and only sleep five hours on an average night, but it didn't matter to him - he'd do anything for his job. It wasn't just his job - it was his reason to live, his passion, his everything. Hoseok didn't know what he'd do without dance and music. He'd be lost.
Hoseok loved everything.
The only thing in the whole wide world that Hoseok didn't love, was himself.
A thousand page book wouldn't be enough to name all his flaws and imperfections. Because he had many more. And he hated every inch of himself, from the way he looked to his voice to everything. And he was probably stupid for thinking so, but Hoseok just found it so unfair that he was so imperfect. If any other person was in his shoes, their life would literally be flawless. But no, it had to be Hoseok, and he was the one thing that made his own life so full with flaws.
He just wanted to get rid of himself sometimes.
But today had been such a good day he forgot about himself for a while. He was getting better and better at the choreography his group was now working on, so good he wasn't even nervous for next week's show. And the whole group was generally just great, and he just loved them all so much, and he was just so thankful for their existence, and sometimes that just overwhelmed him suddenly and he was caught in a wave of appreciation, like now.
Now he was just sitting in his car with a huge smile on his face. He hated his smile, but he couldn't make it go away. The world was too beautiful not to smile. The red and yellow color of the leaves on the trees and on the ground made the street he lived in twice as pretty as it was in the summer - it was always breathtaking, but especially now - and the little kids running around in random streets kicking the leaves all around were just the cutest thing ever. And it was cold, too - but not too cold, so Hoseok could wear his favorite pastel blue sweater. And everywhere he looked, there was something aesthetic to see.
Hoseok loved the fall.
Right when he parked his car, his cellphone started ringing. He quickly rummaged through his messy bag to find it and answered the call, not even looking at the contact's name.
"Hi!" He greeted. "This is-"
"I know, Hoseok," the familiar voice of his friend Jimin interrupted. "Are you home yet?"
Hoseok also loved Jimin's voice. It was just so cute. It took him a moment to realize his friend had stopped talking, because he was deep in thought wondering how Jimin's voice would sound on helium, but when Jimin cleared his throat he snapped out of it.
"Yeah, just parked my car. The street is beautiful, Chim! I love it so much."
"Yes, I know." He could hear Jimin chuckle. "Matches your hair color. Anyway, you forgot your backpack here with all your dance clothes. Should I take it home or leave it in the studio?"
"Uhm..." Did it matter? "Just leave it there and I'll get it tomorrow." Hoseok stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him, hurrying to cross the road. "I'm free tomorrow anyways, so- owh!"
Hoseok dropped his phone and jumped a meter backwards when he bumped into something- no, someone. He blinked, taking five seconds to realize what had happened, and quickly looked over at the guy he bumped into to see if he was okay.
He was. And more than that, he was beautiful.
His eyes just took Hoseok's breath away for a second - he was certain they were holding galaxies inside of them. He couldn't properly explain what their expression made him feel - it was a sad feeling, but more than sad, but it drew him in. His hair was light and messy, giving his face a probably more pale color than if his hair was brown. The color of his skin was like snow, and Hoseok wondered if it really was that cold. This stranger just brought up so many questions in him that he felt like he was going to explode.
Instead of exploding, he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry for that. I wasn't paying attention."
The stranger just stood there, staring at Hoseok with a look so intense it made blush creep up Hoseok's cheeks. He stepped forward, and Hoseok got scared for a moment, but then the stranger just picked up Hoseok's broken phone and handed it to him.
"I'm sorry." His voice was just a low whisper. It sounded like a candle in the wind - unstable and on the verge of blowing out. He was still staring at Hoseok, who was examining the cracked screen of his phone.
Oh well, maybe that was the universe telling him he needed to get a new one. "It's okay!" He smiled. "No damage done." Would it be too impolite to ask for the stranger's name?
"I'm sorry," the stranger repeated. "It was my fault."
"Don't worry about it," Hoseok said while shaking his head. Only then he realized the stranger was only wearing a thin, white shirt. "Aren't you cold?"
The stranger shook his head slightly, looking down. "I live there." He pointed at the building behind him. "I was just taking out the trash."
"Oh, okay. Well, I live next to you, over there." Hoseok pointed at the door to the building of his apartment. "I don't know you, do I?" He knew all the neighbors, but he'd never seem this guy around before. If he saw him, he would have remembered. He was too much of a piece of art to forget.
The stranger shook his head again. "I don't think so."
"Anyways, I need to go, so I guess I'll see you around." Hoseok smiled widely one last time and turned to go. He was hungry and he still needed to have enough time to shower and sleep.
"Wait," the stranger called, his voice lightly hoarse. Hoseok turned around. "What's your name?"
"Hoseok," he replied with a smile, and then turned around and ran upstairs to his apartment. Only when he was there, he realized his mistake.
He forgot to ask the stranger for his name.