Chapter Text
Yoongi hates Winter.
Actually, let him rephrase that.
He hates Winter in America. Yoongi's felt cold in so many different ways that he likes to think he's grown accustomed to it, a numb feeling that stays with him throughout every day, every week, every month. He's been able to ignore the type of cold that tears you down and just takes ahold of your throat and-
Yoongi wants to fucking know why it's so cold in New York on December 7th, he can feel the searing weather in his chest and entire body- enough to believe that his damn ball sack is currently shriveling away.
"I'm dying. I'm fucking dying."
"Dude, shut up. We're almost there.”
"No, man. You're gonna have to pull down my pants and check my dick right now. I think I just felt it snap in half."
"You're such a freak," Hoseok cackles out as his footsteps crunch against the fresh snow on the poorly paved sidewalk, walking at an unfairly fast pace compared to Yoongi. He has a feeling he's been like that his entire life- eager to be places and to do anything. Yoongi wishes he could follow suit and have some more enthusiasm once in a while. "It's not that cold? My snot isn't even frozen right now. But I mean, if you need daddy to take you to the bathroom and pull your pants down to check-"
“Jesus Christ, now who's the freak-"
"Hey, m'just tryna help you out like you wanted, baby-”
"As if anyone would want you to help them after calling yourself daddy?!”
Hoseok lets out another one of his obnoxiously loud laughs, the one that makes people's heads turn and urge their children to walk the other way. It also happens to be the kind that never fails to make a begrudging grin creep up onto Yoongi's face no matter how weird the shit he says is. That's how it's been for a couple years now: a type of routine that him and Hoseok have developed over the endless months of high school. Yoongi complaining about how dumb the United States of America is and how their food sucks ass, and Hoseok cheering him up enough to make Yoongi piss himself from laughter. There's something about the mischievous twinkle in his friend's eyes that never seems to dull that makes him revel in every single moment in America- no matter how rough it can be sometimes. Like the world is cold and harsh and Hoseok is warm and impossibly kind.
He likes to think that they keep each other sane at the end of the day.
Yoongi is still grumbling about his fingers and toes being incapable of moving as they turn the corner to be faced with a hole-in-the-wall cafe (because Hoseok is nothing if not a fake hipster) that he likes to think is unnecessarily far away from their school.
"Hey, we either walk fifteen thousand miles to a cute coffee shop in Brooklyn or go to the one five minutes away from us and sip on some frappuccinos with a bunch of Trumpies," Hoseok says as he walks up the worn down steps, almost sensing Yoongi's annoyance.
Sadly, Yoongi can't even come up with a counter-argument for that point.
"Bold of you to assume I sip on frappuccinos."
"Get your toasted white chocolate mocha sippin’ ass inside," Hoseok snorts as he swings the door open, making the sound of a bell chime loudly above their heads.
"Toasted white chocolate mocha is a very complex flavor," Yoongi grumbles as he shrugs off his coat and chucks it at the booth they always cozy up in every morning before school.
"You know what else has a very complex flavor? My-”
"I swear I will rock your shit if you say your dick-”
"secret frappe order.”
Yoongi squints as a loud laugh bubbles up from Hoseok's throat for the twentieth time in half an hour. “Your mind. How do you come up with stuff so... original. I've never met anyone funnier in my entire life. Incredible.”
“Rude.”
Yoongi shoves Hoseok half-heartedly as he makes his way to the front counter to order, his eyes skimming over the glass display of pastries with mild interest. Truth be told, he used to hate sweets. Yoongi even remembers when he was young and still in South Korea, his mom would try to take him out on the weekends and treat him to bungeoppang and hotteok. Yoongi can still remember the sweet taste building up in his mouth and leaving a bitterness that had him whining for his mom to stop taking him out for sugary treats.
Yoongi still remembers leaving Korea as bittersweet.
“Yah, earth to Min Yoongi.” Hoseok wiggles a hand in front of his face. “You wanna order?”
“Yeah, um,” Yoongi mutters. “Could I just have an iced coffee with four creams? And a.. cinnamon roll.” His tongue feels heavy as he speaks English for the first time in a couple of days due to having one (1) friend that also speaks Korean. He scowls as Hoseok orders and sneakily pays for the both of them, only getting away with it because of his zoned out state.
Yoongi only really pays attention again when the sound of a bell rings in his head and makes him look up.
A boy with floppy, black hair and sunglasses walks in with a black messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He's wearing denim on denim (which Yoongi really can't judge right now based on the shit show of an outfit he put on this morning) with a turtleneck tucked into his pants.
Yoongi (sadly) can't deny his weak spot for boys with black hair and turtlenecks.
Or just- boys.
“What the fuck do you keep looking at- oh jeez. Make way for Yoongi: Korea's number one slut for e-boys,” Hoseok whispers loudly with questionable hand gestures next to Yoongi as he also takes notice of the boy heading towards the front counter.
“Shut up,” Yoongi hisses as he pulls Hoseok to their booth in hopes of distracting himself from the heat quickly rising to his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you're the most embarrassing person, like, ever?”
“Hm..” Hoseok takes and seat and pinches one of Yoongi's rosy cheeks between two slender fingers. “No.”
“I'm not a slut for e-boys. Or white men in general. Or random boys with turtlenecks. Or nice hair.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
-
They end up taking a taxi to school (thanks to Yoongi's stellar skills at complaining about the below zero weather) and manage to be late by a good fifteen minutes.
“Way to go, dumbass,” Yoongi slaps the back of Hoseok's head as they walk into the rickety, old building. “How many tardies is that this month?”
“Whatever. I'd take a thousand tardies if it means I can get my vanilla bean mint frappe every morning,” Hoseok huffs out as they both sign in to the office, the secretary throwing them a quick look of mild disgust that Yoongi knows is because they're speaking something other than English.
“That's your secret order? Lame.”
They both walk out of the office to their first period (and Yoongi making sure to give the secretary the stink eye), Hoseok bumping his shoulder all the way there.
“Soo.. What about that boy at the cafe? Seems like you had a crush, hyung,” Hoseok sings the last part in a squeaky tone as he ruffles Yoongi's already disheveled hair. “Who knows, maybe he's a regular there! Maybe you could actually get some dick for once?”
“Shut up,” Yoongi grits out as he shoves Hoseok, looking around for any witnesses. “I get plenty of dick already, thank you very much. So much dick. Major dick. An insane amount of cock.” He chooses to ignore his best friend's mocking laugh and stops at the door of the classroom where they both have the same class: Spanish.
“Vámonos, cock king.”
-
“Does America actually think it's okay to feed kids chocolate milk with their meals every day? Genuine question.”
“Give me your milk then, ungrateful bitch. This is the best part of the meal,” Hoseok snatches his carton right off the tray and peels it open.
“Heathens. You're all a bunch of heathens,” Yoongi grimaces as he watches his friend chug the whole carton in one go.
“To be fair, you didn't grow up with these lunches. For example, I love these little corn dogs so much I'd shove them up my ass. You think they taste like cardboard. But hyung, I know you love the chicken nuggies and the mashed potatoes. No one can deny the power of the first Tuesday of every month. I wish my dick could just shoot out that gravy at any given time-”
“Those nuggets are a godsend,” Yoongi mumbles as he scrolls through his phone. He stops at one picture on Twitter because it annoyingly reminds him of the boy with sunglasses at the cafe; despite the hair color being different, it's still nice and shiny and styled perfectly without a strand out of place. He also has the same lithe body and soft face structure, pink, pouty lips that were begging to be kissed and maybe would look even prettier wrapped around-
“Shit, I forgot to tell you, hyung!” His best friend basically yells, causing at least half of the cafeteria to judgingly stare in their direction.
“What.”
“Heard there's a foreign exchange student transferring to our school today," Hoseok speaks around a corn dog bite, crumbs messily falling from his mouth.
"Also heard that he's fuckin' 𝘈𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯."
"Jesus, you're embarrassing," Yoongi snorts, glancing up from his phone and scrunching his nose at the cold baked beans on his tray. "As if you didn't hear that from some fuckboys that probably just wanted to make fun of you-"
Yoongi doesn't expect a lot of things to walk through the cafeteria doors.
One of these things happens to be a boy with floppy, black hair and a schedule crumpling in his seemingly small, shaking hands. Another thing to not be expected is the boy is in fact: fuckin' Asian.
"Well. I'll be fucked."
The boy is pretty- holy shit is he pretty. Like, young Angelina Jolie pretty. He's got a black messenger bag slung over one shoulder as he hesitantly walks around the cafeteria, probably to find an open seat.
Yoongi can't help but let his breath catch as his eyes follow, taking in the boy's soft face structure and pink, pouty lips and denim jacket and-
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
“Oh yeah, I definitely bet you'd like to fuck-”
“Oh my God it's the guy from the cafe,” Yoongi blurts out as he sinks low in his chair and kicks Hoseok in the dick to tell him to do the same.
“Okay first of all, OW. Second of all, why are we hiding? I thought you had a crush on the guy-”
“Stop talking. Oh my god.”
“Okay, wow, dude. You're really worked up, huh? Mr. Chaotic Gay? Mr. “I fuck hoes left and right”? Mr. “I'll try to suck someone's dick after two beers”?”
Yoongi is without a doubt worked up. Even enough to tune out Hoseok egging him on in the background.
The thing is, Yoongi actually pines over a ton of guys- for a short amount of time. They eventually fizzle out because of his extreme loss of interest, not even feeling the need to look at the guy again. Hoseok calls him a tad bit harsh for his bad habits ("Men crave love for longer than two minutes, hyung. The only reason you get away with breaking so many hearts is because you've got the face of a fuckin' angel," is what Hoseok had told him once after breaking up with someone after a week.) It's not his fault he likes to keep his relationships and crushes brief- it's just easier to protect yourself that way. And Yoongi's never been mean to those who he's dated; ask any of his exes and they'll tell you he was the sweetest until it ended. The only issue they'll be able to bring up is his how bluntly he displays his genuine feelings.
So. What he sees presented in front of him is a big problem.
Not only can Yoongi not forget about this boy because he now goes to his damn school, he has a terrifying feeling in his gut that he wouldn't even want to. Not him and those dainty, delicate hands that are currently balling up into small, tight fists and those shining doe eyes that are still searching for something, maybe.. someone?
And then their eyes meet from across the room.
“Oh fucking Jesus I'm going to die,” Yoongi manages to sink even farther into his chair, and to his dismay, the boy is still looking at them and walking over to their table.
“Bro. He's probably just walking over to us because we're Asian. Chill.”
“How does that make this situation any better.”
“I dunno? Maybe he'll like you more just 'cuz-”
“Wow, you're being so stereotypical right now assuming all Asian people want to be in cliq-”
“Hello? A-are one of you.. Yoongi?”
Yoongi's annoyance fades as he looks up and is met with a pair of soft brown eyes and lips that are firmly pressed into a straight line. He might've had the sense to be embarrassed if he wasn't so busy staring at the boy in awe (or maybe admiration).
Yoongi can't help but only think about how cute his English is.
The boy's soft cheeks pink under his pinned stare.
And oh, Yoongi's definitely in deep shit.
“Yes, this man right here is in fact, named Yoongi.” It's Hoseok's turn to kick Yoongi in the dick under the table.
“F- yeah. I'm uh, I'm Yoongi. That's me. Yoongi. That's my name. Hi.”
“Okay. Yoongi.. I'm Jimin. Y-you speak Korean? Mr. O'Donnell told me to find you and have you show me around, um.. school?” the boy's voice comes out shakier than before, and he's making these weird hand gestures to try and explain himself better, which surprisingly reminds him of Hoseok of all fucking things, and Yoongi misses the question because all he can think about is his name sounding so nice coming out of the boy's- Jimin's- mouth.
“Ah, you'll have to forgive him for short-circuiting,” Hoseok smiles widely at Jimin. “He speaks Korean. So do I! Well, I guess that's kinda obvious since I'm speaking it right now, huh.. Well, I'm sure Min over here is forgetting not only one but TWO languages because he's so excited to see another Asian person at this school, Korean at that! We don't get a lot of diversity out in this yeehaw part of New York. The poor thing still isn't used to seeing so many pasty teenagers left and right. Y'know, before I moved here, I didn't even know there were racist parts of this state?! I just assumed the entirety of New York was cultured. Weird. Anyways, cheers to destroying white supremacy!”
Oh, for Christ's sake -
Hoseok grabs his empty carton of chocolate milk and raises it above his head, initiating the weirdest and most awkward cheers of all fucking time.
Jimin blinks.
Yoongi always had a feeling Jung Hoseok would be the bane of his existence.
That is, until a light and breathy laugh escapes Jimin's lips as he looks down at the both of them that are still sunk all the way down on their plastic chairs, only their heads completely visible from the table they're sitting at.
“You guys are fucking nutjobs.”
Yoongi swears his heart doesn't flutter.