Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. Pancakes

Yoongi shuffles to the kitchen pulling on Taehyung’s too large t-shirt that smells like lavender and coffee, like him and Taehyung. He rubs at his eyes and scratches his tummy over the dinosaur print of the t-shirt. His steps are slow this morning, even more so than usual.

His mind is sluggish this morning, a clear sign that he slept too long, his body not used to the weight of heavy sleep, bones achy and joints stiff.; the apartment is calm, the grey light muting everything around the place. Yoongi feels like he’s still dreaming, or maybe like he’s a dream himself; not entirely solid, too light and heavy at the same time, a little meaningless but filled with purpose for the day. His mind is foggy, music notes echoing dully, trailing his derailed train of thought. His morning routine already happening without any conscious effort on his part.

Holly perks up as he passes by the couch but he doesn’t move beyond that. Yoongi takes half a second to weight his options: go to him and give him the attention he wants or go get coffee first and deal with the cold shoulder for the rest of the day.

His musings are cut short when he hears someone curse in the kitchen. Yoongi stops in his tracks to sort through his tangled thoughts to find the memory of a text conversation he had with Taehyung last night right before bed.

tae

HYUNG!

GDDDUFDYULDUY

LISTEN!!!!!!!!

me

this is a text conversation

tae

SHUT

UP

LISTEN

LOOK

i gave hoseok hyung the keys to our place

he’s crashing in my room tonight

me

why are you yelling

and why is hoseok staying here?

where are you?

please tell me you didn’t try to break into a museum again

tae

not in the plans for tonight

AND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

in about 15 minutes I’ll be in jimin ;)

me

never ever text me again

But even as he sent that text, he smiled. Taehyung and Jimin have been dancing around each other for months, now. It has been an interesting journey; watching the way Taehyung blossomed and opened up to Jimin’s gentle care. Taehyung, at least when it comes to romantic entanglement, has always reminded Yoongi of a butterfly; landing on a different flower every now and again, never staying long enough to make more than fleeting memories. When he met Jimin almost a year ago, something changed. Something stuck. Something grew; roots, Yoongi thinks. Roots that seem to grow and thicken and dig deeper into the earth of Taehyung every day.

During the last few months, Yoongi spent many nights, slowly sipping on whiskey while Taehyung drank cocoa, listening to his younger friend sort through his thoughts and feelings, trying to find the words to explain Jimin, understand the own mechanics of his awakened heart.

Yoongi has known Taehyung forever, they grew up together and although they know each other inside out, they never quite finished learning each other. Yoongi reckons that’s just life and its ever need for change. Human beings are constantly shifting, finding new things to love and lose themselves into; their needs mellowing or deepening depending on the case. The person you are fresh out of high school is million miles away from the person you are when you finish university. It might not feel like it but it is reality nonetheless.

And Taehyung settled into his own starlit chaos with all the grace of a swan, unperturbed by other people’s opinions. He’s always followed every whim, becoming an expert in so many things –of his own  accord- and letting go of old truths. And Yoongi has been here every step of the way, just like Taehyung has been witness to the murky, exhausting process of Yoongi’s own journey into adulthood.

It feels like nothing is changing, stagnation making anxiety churn at your belly and then, you wake up one morning and your best friend is in love. The same best friend who shies away from labels and has always been just a tad terrified of burdening people with the weight of his heart.

That’s why Yoongi sent another text not three minutes later telling Taehyung that he was happy for him. Taehyung replied with a series of emojis that reeked of softness and gratitude. And then he reminded Yoongi not to be too grumpy this morning seeing as it would be Hoseok’s first time seeing Yoongi right after waking up.

Yoongi wonders how he managed to sleep so soundly and for so long knowing what would await him when he woke up.

Hoseok is hard to define. Hoseok is Jimin’s best friend and roommate. He’s been in the background of a lot of Taehyung and Jimin stories, and then the main characters to too many of Yoongi’s musings. Hoseok is his own starlit chaos, although his own brand seems to seep with sunlight instead. Yoongi supposes they’re friends although it was never a choice on either of their parts. Circumstantial friends and judging by the way Jimin looks at Taehyung, a rather set figure in Yoongi’s life. Unlikely friends, maybe, although there’s something about Hoseok that echoes in Yoongi. A softness, perhaps. A tamed darkness, possibly.

Yoongi is dark bitter coffee in which sugar has been dipped for the first time, awakening him, too.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and braces himself for the sun wave.

When he enters the small kitchen, Hoseok is sitting on the counter, feet dangling off the ground and heels hitting the cupboard every few seconds. He’s wearing a white tank top and grey sweatpants. His hair falls softly on his forehead, the meagre November light still managing to catch on the fiery red. He turns to smile at Yoongi, something bright and earnest.

“Good morning, hyung,” he says, voice still a little rough with sleep. Sugar seeps into Yoongi’s veins, thick and sweet on his heart.

“Good morning, Seok-ah,” he replies, tone already too soft.

That’s the thing about Hoseok; everything about him turns Yoongi soft. He feels so tender around the literature teacher, like he could bruise just with the slightest touch. He shakes his head to rid himself of these maudlin thoughts and focuses on Hoseok.

“Did I hear you curse a moment ago?”

Hoseok pouts. At the sight, Yoongi thinks about taking legal actions against his own heart.

“I almost dropped Taehyung’s favourite mug, looking for something to eat,” he explains.

“That was a gift from Jimin,” Yoongi says glancing at the mug sitting by Hoseok’s hips. It’s a print of one of Taehyung’s favourite artists. Hoseok follows Yoongi’s gaze, smiling too.

“I watched Jimin paint that. He was so meticulous with it.”

Yoongi’s smile turns a bit wistful. “I’m pretty sure Taehyung slept with the thing for a whole week after he got it.”

Hoseok bursts out laughing at that, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Yoongi’s own lips stretch further.

“Morons,” Hoseok says like one would utter a term of endearment.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says heading for the coffee machine. Another second of looking at Hobi’s face and he might say something ridiculous.

Or paint a mug of his own.

“Did you find something to eat?”

“No. The mug incident halted my search. Been scared to move since.”

Yoongi nods. “I was about to make pancakes. Want some?”

He was not in fact going to make anything, least of all pancakes , which he only baked once in his life. And even then, he was just helping Kihyun. But looking at the grin splitting Hoseok’s face in half, Yoongi can’t regret his words.

“Yeah!”

“Gimme a moment,” Yoongi says and shuffle-runs to the bathroom. Once locked inside, he quickly pulls up a recipe on naver and then quickly watches a tutorial on youtube with the sound muted, just to be sure. He emerges three minutes later, almost confident he knows what he’s doing. Well, pancake wise. Hoseok wise, he’s just waddling through his own moron-tinted choices.

His hands still shake as he heads back to the kitchen.

“We just need flour, sugar, butter, eggs and yeast,” he announces, voice scratchy. “Oh, and milk.”

Hoseok looks at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to get into action, and Yoongi looks back, enthralled by the red in his hair.

“I’ve never had red hair,” he blurts out. Hoseok tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I like the mint,” Hoseok says and Yoongi feels like curling in on himself.

“Thanks.”

There’s a pause, as though the universe itself is waiting for the next stupid thing to come out of Yoongi’s mouth. Hoseok’s eyes don’t move from Yoongi’s face. His gaze feels a bit like warm honey feels against one’s tongue.

Hoseok always reminds Yoongi of honey.

“Pancakes?” Hoseok asks.

“Okay.”

Okay , Yoongi thinks.

He melts the butter in the microwave, quickly mixes the flour, sugar and yeast together. Adds a pinch of salt and the eggs. Hoseok’s gaze is on him the whole time, interested and warm.

“Could you get the butter?” Yoongi asks just to breathe a bit easier.

Hoseok jumps off the counter. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

And that. That sure is something, Yoongi thinks as his hearts skitters.

“Coming through with hot melted butter,” Hoseok says voice chirpy. Yoongi steps aside and motions with his head towards the bowl where he’s currently mixing the rest of the ingredient. Hoseok gets the memo and slowly pours the butter into the mixture. The flaky concoction turns slowly more moist.

“I thought pancakes were like crepes,” Hoseok says, leaning over Yoongi’s shoulder to watch.

“They are. This just needs milk,” Yoongi explains, trying very hard not to lean back against his friend’s boyfriend’s roommate. His friend, too, he remembers.

“I'll grab it,” Hoseok offers and twirls back to the fridge. Yoongi tells himself he’s relieved.

Hoseok brandishes the bottle, jiggling it a little, nose scrunched cutely.

“Pour,” Yoongi orders as softly as possible.

“How much?” Hoseok asks as he uncaps the bottle.

“Go slowly, I’ll tell you when.”

Hoseok nods and tilts the bottle over the bowl. Their shoulders are pressed together and it’s a good thing Yoongi has to focus on the batter otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from staring. Hoseok’s fingers are long and slender; his nail beds clean and well cared for.

“When,” Yoongi says when the batter is at the right consistency. Hoseok recaps the bottle and smiles at Yoongi.

“You’re good with a whisk,” he says matter of factly.

“Thanks,” Yoongi nods and nope that’s not a blush on his cheeks, it’s just really hot in the kitchen. “The mix has to rest for at least half an hour,” he informs Hoseok. “I can make you coffee while we wait.” He goes to put the batter in the fridge and spots a couple of apples on the top shelf. “Or we could make cinnamon apples?”

Hoseok’s eyes widen in delight. “I don’t know what that is but you had me at cinnamon.”

Yoongi smiles again.

That’s another thing about Hoseok; he pulls the smiles right out of you, whether you wanted to smile or not.

“Wanna help?” Yoongi says, smile lingering, stretching, down, down, down to his heart. Or maybe it started there. Yoongi feels warm, the quiet of the moment settling into him, settling him.

Hoseok’s answering smile makes nerves tingle inside him again but Yoongi chooses to see it as a good thing. Prefers not to focus on them.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Peel the apples, please.”

They cut the apples in small pieces and Hoseok chatters about his students, complaining about lesson plans that always need to be updated. As the smell of melted butter fills the room again, Hoseok asks about Yoongi’s own lessons, pulls stories out of him while the diced apples soften in the hot butter. Yoongi laughs as Hoseok tells him the story of how his best friend Namjoon accidentally started dating his banker two years ago and how they got engaged a few weeks back. He adds cinnamon and sugar to the pan while Hoseok stirs and listen to Yoongi talk about Jungkook, the prodigy he found a few years ago.

The kitchen smells so good and when he brings the wooden spoon with a piece of apple on it to Hoseok’s mouth, their eyes meet for a second as they both blow on it. Hoseok smiles before dipping his head and wrapping his lips around the sweetened fruit.

“Ah, ah, ah! Hot, hot, hot!” he says. “Hmm, delicious, so good!” he says dipping his finger in the pan (“careful!!” Yoongi grouches) and swiping more caramel. “So good, hyung!”

Yoongi feels warm down to his toes, the praise washing over him like a hug.

Later, after Yoongi made the pancakes and brewed coffee for them both, they sit at the table, a small heap of food on their plates.

Yoongi doesn’t eat at first, simply watches Hoseok dive into his plate, wonders if songs can be written about dimples and honey and cinnamon.

As Hoseok cuts a piece of Yoongi’s own pancakes and brings it to Yoongi’s mouth with a stern “eat!”, Yoongi thinks there should be.

2. Lava cake.

When Taehyung told him they were hosting a dinner party so that the whole group could meet, Yoongi’s immediate answer was no. When he was informed that he had no choice in the matter and that everybody was already invited, Yoongi threatened to move out. When Yoongi realised that everyone also meant Hoseok, Yoongi’s first instinct was to hide in his room and actually start looking for a new place. When Taehyung informed him that Hoseok was excited, Yoongi called his mother to ask for the easiest cake to bake.

Then for the next two days, he waited for Taehyung to go to work before trying the recipe. The first time, he let the cake in the oven too long so it dried up. It was still good, no one would say no to a chocolate cake but it wasn’t a real fondant. His students still enjoyed it, so Yoongi considered it a win.

The next time, the cake was perfect but when Jungkook came for their usual session, he suggested Yoongi tried making smaller ones. Which was a good idea except the only moulds he finds are heart shaped, making Yoongi seriously reconsider the whole project. He wants to do something nice for Hoseok, he doesn’t want his blatant crush to be advertised more than it already is.

Using the word crush, even in his own head makes Yoongi cringe slightly. Not about the fact itself but rather the term.

Coming to terms with situation has taken a lot less time than it did for Taehyung to admit that he fell in love with Jimin. Yoongi is much more aware of the inner workings of his heart. He took one look at Hoseok and he knew, he just knew , he was fucked. It wasn’t love at first sight, Yoongi doesn’t believe in that but Hoseok was Yoongi’s type to a T.

Yoongi likes sunny people; he sees in them the part of himself that is still too difficult to reach. He finds an echo of them inside himself.

Yoongi has never met someone as sunny as Jung Hoseok.

He doesn’t have a problem with it per se, there’s nothing wrong with liking Hoseok, as a concept. In reality, he’d rather not deal with the humiliation of being let down and its aftermath.

So the heart shaped lava cake seems to be just a tad too on the nose. He doesn’t think Hoseok is the type to overthink these things but Yoongi doesn’t want to set a precedent.

Unfortunately, he’s too busy with lessons for the next two days to go buy another mould.

“Aw cute!” Taehyung exclaims the night of the dinner, dipping his index finger in the melted chocolate and sucking on it.

Yoongi glares but his best friend remains unaffected. “Where does it even come from?”

Taehyung’s eyes roll up as he thinks about it, still sucking on his finger. “If I remember correctly, it belongs to Seokjin hyung.” At Yoongi’s blank stare, he elaborates. “He lent it to Hoseok who wanted to bake something for his sister when she visited last spring. Then Jimin brought it over here to bake brownies,” he waggles his eyebrows letting Yoongi know exactly what type of brownies he means. Leave it to these two to bake heart shaped pot brownies. He rolls his eyes and Taehyung chuckles, his eyes turning into crescents, his smile just this side of naughty. “Then Jimin just kept coming here to bake stuff in the thing.”

“Couldn’t he just have brought it back to his place? Or better yet buy one?”

“And not have an excuse to come here and moon over me? Pshaw!”

“So you admit he was mooning!”

“He admitted it.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “Did he allow you to brag about it?”

“He specifically asked me not to but I know for a fact that he’s doing it, too. I’m in love with a hypocrite,” Taehyung sighs, eyes gone terribly fond.

Yoongi smiles and resumes stirring the fluffy egg whites into the melted chocolate.

Later, when Yoongi opens the door to find Hoseok and Jimin on the other side, Hoseok wearing a beanie from under which his folded ears say hello, Yoongi thinks he’ll buy his own heart shaped moulds.

When Hoseok hugs him, Yoongi hears music.

3. Croissants.

Hoseok has once again been sexiled.

It’s been weeks, even months of this and Yoongi has yet to find it in himself to care. He’s more annoyed for Hoseok who probably misses his bed and would probably rather not deal with a grumpy morning Yoongi every couple of weeks because his best friend apparently can’t keep his sex marathons to the confines of his bedrooms.

Not that he’s said anything on the matter but Yoongi knows that’s just how Hoseok is. He rolls with the flow.

Still, Yoongi feels bad for him.

That Sunday morning when he wakes up, Hoseok has the kitchen table covered in papers, a red pen in his hand and a half drunk cup of coffee close to his other hand on the table.

“Morning, Seok-ah,” Yoongi says and Hoseok startles.

“Oh, morning, hyung,” he passes a hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry about the mess but I have like fifty copies to grade before tomorrow,” he says turning around in his chair and crossing his feet on it.

Yoongi’s dismissal wave is cut short as he finally notices that Hoseok is wearing shorts and that said shorts have ridden very high on his thighs when he folded his legs.

There is so much skin. Way more skin than Yoongi was expecting so soon after waking up.

Yoongi is rudely reminded that Hoseok is a dancer, too.

“Hyung?” Hoseok calls and Yoongi’s face burns with embarrassment. He quickly turns away and hurries to the coffee machine.

“Don’t worry about it, Hoseok.”

“I tried working on them all day yesterday but Namjoon and Seokjin dropped by with wedding stuff and then Jimin was freaking out about the Christmas showcase so I helped him with the choreography.”

Yoongi has turned back to him at that point, and, leaning against the counter, he watches him nibble on his lower lip, his brows furrowed in worry.

“Seok-ah,” Yoongi says, almost like a sigh. Or maybe a prayer. Hoseok’s shoulders seem to loosen. You’re so lovely , is what almost comes out of Yoongi’s mouth because Hoseok cares so much, gives so much of himself, is always there for everyone. He infuses life into everyone, gives people the energy to take another step, breathe a little easier.

The loveliest.

“It’s alright. This. This can be your home, too,” he says instead. He’s not sure if it’s better but at least it makes the lines by Hoseok’s mouth soften, retract.

They haven’t known each other for long. Barely a year. It’s a strange situation to be in, if Yoongi thinks about it. Being the best friends of two people who fell so hard in love that they’re taking everyone around them down with them, shifting the balance of pre-existing relationships or helping new bonds to form.

Being a grown ass man in his mid-twenties with his own apartment but being regularly shut out of it because his best friend is in the honeymoon phase of what appears to be It.

Yoongi thought he’d met It before, but now, as he watches Hoseok smile warmly at him, he thinks youth is the age of foolishness.

It’s a strange situation for sure but Yoongi likes to think they make the best of it. Their friendship having blossomed into something solid and comfortable. Something tinted with permanence and acceptance. Hoseok loves the written words the way Yoongi loves music notes; he understands and uses them the same way Yoongi does with music notes. Hoseok’s father is a retired literature teacher and although dance has been a passion of his since he was a child, the written world had always been his calling. He talks about his favourite books the way Yoongi thinks about music; like they’re part of him, like if he had to stop reading and writing, a part of him would die. He’s much more animated and exuberant when he explains these things but Yoongi can see the vulnerability hidden there, the fear of losing himself in the words or away from them.

Hoseok is an ocean oh hidden depths, of intriguing, hidden paths, of old secret recipes. Yoongi has been falling into him a little bit more each day and he can’t find it in him to care or to even cushion his landing; too busy stealing little nuggets of Hoseok-tinted gold and keeping them hidden on him at all times.

“Did you eat?” he asks too casually.

Hoseok gives him a heart shaped smile, all teeth and sugar. “Not yet, no.”

Yoongi nods and goes to pull out the croissant dough he prepared last night out of the fridge. He may or may not have spent last weekend looking up new recipes to try, watching youtube tutorial after youtube tutorial, taking notes and screenshots along the way. Last night when Hoseok texted him (because that’s a thing they do now. They text. Regularly. Hoseok wants to know everything about Yoongi and Yoongi wants to tell him everything. It’s a thing and it’s nothing but it feels like hot air bursts into his heart every time he gets a notification from Hoseok) that he was staying over, Yoongi pulled out milk, butter, flour and yeast and started  working the dough.

It was easy work, relaxing and it allowed his mind to wander along the paths of new melodies, of new lesson plans, of dimples and honey.

Now, he flattens butter into a sheet and slides it between two pieces of flattened dough. He keeps working on it, flattening and folding it and then flattening again. It’s a long process but there’s a serenity to the moment. Hoseok grading papers, chuckling or groaning every now and again, reading funny bits out loud to share a laugh with Yoongi.

Yoongi leaning on the rolling pin, talking about his family’s restaurant in Daegu, about the dumbest thing he ever made Taehyung do, about his ex-boyfriend Kihyun who still sends him flowers after every recital.

Holly napping on Hoseok’s lap, his light snores the only constant noise.

This morning feels a bit like the first time he plucked the key of a piano, the sound echoing inside of him like an empty home waiting to be filled.

He thinks, maybe, he wasn’t far off when he told Hoseok this could be his home, too. Maybe there was music in their quiet, too.

By the time he’s shaping the croissants, rolling them on pan, a few of which nutella filled, Hoseok has finished grading a third of his papers. He gets to his feet, gently putting Holly back on his chair and stretches. Yoongi doesn’t know what is harder: not thinking about his legs or not turning around to stare at them.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Hoseok says as he comes to stand by Yoongi, shapely ass snug against the counter.

There’s flour on his shorts now.

Yoongi loses the battle and stares. Just a little.

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, a faint blush dancing up to his ears.

Hoseok hums and goes to the coffee machine. He comes back just when Yoongi has finished brushing egg yolks over the croissants. He offers Yoongi a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Black, just like Yoongi takes it.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says feeling like the warmth in his chest could keep him alive through the harshest of winters.

“You got,” Hoseok laughs brushes the back of his fingers over Yoongi’s left cheek. “You had flower,” he explains, words muted and tone soft.

Yoongi can barely hear him. He might have burst into flames.

There’s gentleness to Hoseok’s gaze, like he’s scared of spooking Yoongi.

Yoongi’s not scared, he feels like a symphony.

“Thank you,” he says again. Hoseok nudges his shoulder with his forehead, a gesture so full of tenderness and intimacy that Yoongi feels it down to the core of him. That place at the centre of him where music lives.

“No problem,” Hoseok smiles, head tilted up to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi’s heart feels a bit like flattened butter.

Later when Hoseok moans over the warm croissants and offers half of his to Yoongi’s mouth, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Yoongi wonders if this could be a permanent arrangement.

4. Cinnamon buns.

There’s a knock on their door one night in the middle of December.

Taehyung looks up from the game he’s playing on his phone and stares at Yoongi. Yoongi stares back, fingers still poised over the keys of his piano.

“I went last time,” Taehyung says.

“Literally when were you even there last time? I haven’t seen in about ten years,” Yoongi says as he shuffles to his feet. Taehyung grins like the brat he is and resumes playing on his phone. “One must wonder what kind of stroke game Park Jimin has,” he mutters loudly.

“Magic. His dick is actual magic,” Taehyung shouts just as Yoongi opens the door to reveal a tired looking Hoseok.

“Hobi?”

“Hi hyung. Sorry, I didn’t mean to come unannounced,” he says with a small smile that looks like a shadow of the real thing.

“No, no,” Yoongi ushers him inside, holding onto his wrist. Hoseok looks at him, a tired plea in his eyes. “You’re always welcome here,” he says and he means it.

“Thanks hyung. Long day. I,” he pauses sighing, looking at Yoongi for a long moment. Then, awkwardly but fondly, nudges his shoulder with Yoongi’s. “I missed you.”

“I’m right here,” Yoongi nudges back. The always goes unsaid.

He leads Hoseok to the kitchen. Taehyung quirks an eyebrow as he watches them pass, waves at Hoseok who smiles tiredly and then he jumps off the couch. A minute later, Yoongi hears the door to the apartment open and close.

It’s almost 10 P.M and although they had dinner only a couple of hours ago, Yoongi is already craving something sweet. He pushes Hoseok on a chair and pulls out all the ingredients he needs to make cinnamon buns. The cupboards are overflowing with new ingredients: brown sugar, four different kinds of yeast, vanilla, cinnamon, he even bought food dye just in case he felt like making fancy cupcakes.

“That’s new,” Hoseok says pointing to red, flashy mixer Yoongi bough just last weekend.

“It comes in handy,” Yoongi says fighting off a blush. It’s not like Yoongi baking is a thing; it’s just that he only bakes for Hoseok and Hoseok doesn’t need to know that.

Taehyung did tease him mercilessly, having caught on to Yoongi’s… situation but it was all in good fun.

(“I’m happy for you, hyung,” he had said in that disgustingly earnest and sweet way Taehyung has.

“There’s nothing to be happy for,” Yoongi retorted.

“You’re glowing,” Taehyung smiled.

Yoongi didn’t answer. He felt glowy.)

“What are you making?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” Yoongi says with a knowing smile. Hoseok’s eyes light up and Yoongi feels less on edge.

“I want to help,” he says and jumps to his feet. Hoseok moves like there’s an excess of life coursing through him at all times, like the actual sun is powering him. There’s the poise of the dancer too, movement controlled and graceful. But mostly, Hoseok moves like he can’t wait to get to the next thing, the next challenge.

Tonight however, his movements are slow, sluggish. He looks like his day has been going on for too long. Yoongi doesn’t know how to take people’s hurt away, only knows how to shoulder his own.

But he wants to. Wants to carry all of Hoseok, tuck him close and keep him safe, untouched y the cruelty of the world.

They wash their hands by the sink and Yoongi flicks a bit of water on Hoseok’s face just to hear him shriek and it’s not much but it’s a start. Then they divide the ingredients in equal parts and, following Yoongi’s instructions, they each make a batch of cinnamon rolls.

Besides Yoongi’s directions, nothing can be heard. Hoseok seems lost in his own head, kneading the dough like it contains the secret of the universe.

At some point, when the silence becomes too much, Yoongi pulls out his phone and selects one of the playlists Taehyung made him. As much as he loves music, Yoongi has never been a playlist kind of guy. Taehyung has always done it for him. This one is called Sepia and it’s one of Yoongi’s favourites; full of soft, mellow songs, some jazz and a sprinkle of classics. It’s the perfect playlist for the mood. Reflective and inviting.

As the second song starts, Yoongi hears a sniffle to his left and when he looks up, he finds Hoseok wiping at his eyes.

“Hoseok?” he asks, dough and cinnamon paste forgotten.

Hoseok’s smiles is wobbly, his eyes red and his cheeks wet. He shakes his head. “It’s fine, hyung,” he says but Yoongi is already grabbing a tissue and helping him wipe his face. “It’s so stupid,” Hoseok whines with a loud sniff.

“Seok-ah,” Yoongi says, taking hold of his wrist again and feeling lost, useless, too small.

“I love when you call me that,” Hoseok says with another attempt at a smile. Yoongi’s heart melts. He squeezes Hoseok’s wrist wordlessly.

“I know Taehyung’s taste isn’t the greatest, but this is the first time his song selection made someone cry.”

Hoseok laughs, watery and small. His breath smells like cinnamon. “It’s not the song,” he shakes his head and wiggles out of Yoongi’s grasp until he can intertwine their hands. “It’s just been an awful day,” he says and lets his head fall on Yoongi’s shoulders. Yoongi hesitates for one moment before wrapping his arms around him. Hoseok makes a pleased sound and settles onto him, snuggling as close possible, his wet nose buried in Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi doesn’t feel small anymore.

They stay like that for a long moment. Yoongi sways gently, almost (but not quite) following the music and Hoseok tells him about the father that yelled at him for “giving his daughter ideas”.

“She’s just a scared kid who fell in love with a girl and didn’t know who to talk to,” Hoseok explains. Yoongi’s chest constrict with anger and sorrow. “I just wanted to help her. I didn’t want her to feel alone. Feel like I did.”

A pause. Yoongi brings his hand to Hoseok’s nape a tangles his fingers with the hair there.

“She’s lucky to have you,” Yoongi says. “She’s lucky your paths crossed.”

A shudder runs through Hoseok again and Yoongi feels another tear fall on his neck. He holds him tighter.

“Doesn’t feel like it. What good did I make if her father treats her like that?”

“There’s always going to be assholes. There’s always going to be people that won’t understand your light, that will want to dim it” Yoongi whispers, tilting his head so that his mouth brushes Hoseok’s ear, needing the words to fall directly into it. “That doesn’t mean that what you do, that your light, isn’t needed or wanted. You did good, Seok-ah. So good. Perfect.”

Hoseok nods and wraps his own arms more firmly around Yoongi.

Later, they finish the rolls and eat them hot while watching reruns of an old drama. Yoongi fingers are sticky and his chest warm. Hoseok falls asleep with his head on Yoongi’s lap. When sleep takes him in turn, Yoongi’s last thought is too big for his weary heart.

5. Chocolate chip cookies

It’s Hoseok’s birthday and although parties are not Yoongi’s thing, Hoseok definitely is.

So, he goes. In one hand he carries a box of chocolate chip cookies he baked this afternoon and in the other, a rare limited edition of Heungbu and Nolbu, Hoseok’s favourite fairy tale. He and Taehyung take the subway instead of driving and Taehyung keeps giving these looks, both gauging and expectant. Yoongi isn’t going to ask because –

“You should tell him.”

- because Taehyung is never one to keep things from Yoongi.

Yoongi feigns ignorance. “Tell who what?”

“Tell Hoseokie hyung that he makes your heart flutter and your dick sing,” Taehyung says just as they exit the subway station near Hoseok and Jimin’s apartment. Yoongi stops walking and glares at his soon to be ex best friend.

“My heart does not flutter and what the fuck? My dick doesn’t sing!” Yoongi has had to say a lot of ridiculous things in the twenty years he’s been friends with Taehyung but this might just take the cake.

“It composed an opera for Hoseok,” Taehyung retorts.

Yoongi starts to power walk away from him and not (not!!!!!) because he’s blushing or because there’s any kind of truth to Taehyung’s words.

It barely takes a second for Taehyung’s obnoxiously long legs to catch up with him.

“Fine, forget the singing dick,” Taehyung sighs, disappointed.

“Already did,” Yoongi shoots.

“But, hyung,” he puts a hand to Yoongi’s arm to stop him. Yoongi reluctantly looks up. “The glow? It’s been getting brighter and brighter.”

Yoongi licks his lips and averts his eyes. He’s terrified, is the thing. “What if I don’t make him glow back?” he asks, heart beating too hard against his ribs, fear lining his chest like poison.

“Look at him. Really look, hyung. You’ll see,” Taehyung says. Yoongi’s eyes flick back to his smiling face and he only finds honesty.

“Okay.”

Okay , Yoongi thinks and they walk the last few metres to Hoseok and Jimin’s apartment in silence. Jimin opens the door with a flourish and falls into Taehyung with all the drunken grace of a chicken.

Taehyung laughs and kisses his flushed cheeks before whisking him away. Yoongi finds himself alone in the entryway with his cookies and his gift, loud music blaring and making the floor vibrate. He weaves his way through the small crowd until he finds Namjoon, Seokjin and Jungkook by the buffet-slash-boose station table. He stays close to them for a long while, safe. He watches Jimin and Taehyung dance together and follows Hoseok as he flits from group to group, chatting and laughing with everyone.

Glowing.

Hoseok has always glowed bright. Long before Yoongi and he’ll probably glow long after him, too. They’re friends and even if that truth hurts like a fresh bruise, it’s still a lot. It’s still enough.

They’re no longer circumstantial friends. They’re friends that bake together and confide in each other and fall asleep together.

Hoseok is safe and good and he makes Yoongi glow and that’s enough. Yoongi’s selfishness shouldn’t mess with that.

So he finds the table with all the gifts, leaves the book and the chocolate chip cookies there and weaves his way out of the room and out of the apartment.

He’s waiting for the next train, huddled into his padded jacket and blowing on his fingers because he always forgets his gloves when he hears someone running down the stairs. There are only a couple of people on the platform so the hurried footsteps echo along the tracks.

And then Hoseok appears, hair disheveled from the wind and cheeks red from the cold. He’s only wearing a thick cardigan, his loud baggy jeans clashing horribly with the murky green of it. As he runs up to Yoongi, his ugly pouch bounces against his thighs.

He’s the most beautiful man Yoongi has ever seen.

He stops right in front of Yoongi, chest heaving.

“You left,” he says, surprised and annoyed all at once.

Yoongi shrugs.

“Don’t pout at me,” Hoseok says, eyes narrowed.

Yoongi is taken aback. “I’m. I’m not?”

“You are. You’re always on the verge of a pout and it’s been killing me.” He shivers and pulls a pair of gloves from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls them on Yoongi himself, muttering about stupid piano teachers who leave parties too early and always forget to bring gloves.

Yoongi looks at him, eyes wide, unable to form a coherent thought.

“You left,” Hoseok repeats, his lips trembling.

“I’m a little tired, Hoseok. And you were busy.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “You left and you didn’t even let me thank you!”

“It wasn’t that hard to find, don’t worry, Seok-ah,” Yoongi shrugs again.

“I’m not talking about the damn book; I’m talking about the cookies! You left before we could share one.” He pulls open the pouch and takes out a cookie. Yoongi’s breath stutters out of him and he stares at the baked goods in Hoseok’s trembling hand. “You remembered,” Hoseok says and he sounds out of breath again.

Yoongi looks away. A couple of weeks ago, he and Hoseok went to a café for lunch and Hoseok spent a good part of it complaining about the terrible cookie he ordered and how it had been ages since he’d had homemade cookies.

Yoongi had tucked that away in his mind.

In terms of advertising his crush, this was the Times Square, neon lights and shuffling tourists type of deal.

“You remembered,” Hoseok utters again, this time stepping closer. Up close, his eyes looked like the dark brown of melted chocolate. Yoongi wanted to drown in them. He breaks a piece of cookie and brings it Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi opens up and bites on it. It’s good, soft and crunch, the chocolate sweet enough but not too much. It melts on his tongue. Hoseok watches him chew, something to fire lurking in his eyes. A different type of hunger. Yoongi swallows, feeling like the strung up chord of guitar, ready to sing at the slightest touch. He takes the cookie from Hoseok’s hand and breaks off another piece, offering it to Hoseok who smiles before closing his lips around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Hm. Tasty,” he grins wolfishly and Yoongi smiles in return.  “Hyung, you have the best smile. The cutest, most devastating smile. I love it.”

Yoongi’s face freezes. He’s never learned to deal with compliments. “Yours is shaped like a heart,” he lets it slip. There’s a mountain of words on the tip of his tongue. An avalanche of half finished declarations and promises threatening to fall out of him at any moment. One more smile from Hoseok, one step closer and he’ll bury the both of them alive.

Hoseok looks at him like he’s carrying his own mountain, like he hears music when they hug too.

“If I kiss you, will you keep baking for me?”

Look. Really look , Taehyung said. Yoongi is looking now Hoseok is not just glowing; he looks like he’s got the sun right under his skin.

“If I kiss you back, will you keep coming to me?” Yoongi asks in return.

Hoseok cups his cheek and nods, brushing his nose along Yoongi cheek. “Yes,” he whispers right at the corner of his jaw.

Yoongi shivers and Hoseok kisses his earlobe.

“Okay,” Yoongi says.

Okay , he thinks and pulls him down for soft kiss. Hoseok tastes like chocolate and his lips glide against Yoongi’s like notes glide along music sheets.

Like he’s home.

Yoongi licks into his mouth and hears music.