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blurry but pretty

Summary:

"do you have a name—"

"hoseok."

yoongi pouts, slaps his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "no, man. hold on. wait. let me finish."

 

(or, yoongi gets drunk, sees hoseok in the bar, throws some pickup lines and decides hoseok is the best thing he's ever seen.)

Notes:

this is me on my 'hoseok is the very beautiful™' agenda + sope things
hope u enjoy !!

(it seems like a sad fic, but like it gets to happier things after a lil)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

the bar is loud. loud enough for yoongi to feel the music through the soles of his shoes, makes the stool underneath him shake a bit. the music pounds against in his head in a way that's not quite painful, yet. it'll get painful. just, not yet.

it's loud, but he can still hear the tap of the shot glass against the table after he downs it. it's loud, but he thinks he can hear his organs protest, throat rioting, pitchforks and torches against his brain, makes him all sluggish, like a candle being blown out.

namjoon grins wildly at him from the other side of the table, hands grabbing at the bottle they bought at the beginning of the night, shaking as he attempts to pour some in their small glass, some ending up in the pool of alcohol they already have on the top. his smile has something sad caressing the edges of it, a why are we here mixed with a i don't want to remember as he clinks his beverage against yoongi's, smiles happily, sadly, numbly, just for tonight, hyung, i think we both need it, as he coughs loudly against the poison.

yoongi's body feels too thick where he sits, like there's something repulsive about him, thinks it's pushing people away even though he can feel the press of strangers against his back, the side of his thigh, everywhere, overwhelming yet not enough at the same time. he looks away from namjoon when he feels the push of bile from his stomach, ducks his head and coughs into his fist, throat aching.

he looks to his side, towards the main bar, and his brain just blurs out for bit. quiet. too quiet. like a horror house that had decided it was time to stop games, stop the fake screaming, just leave it with an eerie silence, come on, we're not here, don't be scared. it sinks into him, shrivels up inside him, eyes widening, mouth dropping. a heavy breath slipping through his lips.

the guy is a scary type of beautiful. it's intimidating, makes his heart skip too many beats at once to be healthy, makes air thin out, lungs too weak to do anything but try their best. the man leans both elbows on the bar, facing it to order for a second before turning around, eyes exploring the establishment. he's too beautiful, yoongi thinks. it's like everything goes towards him, molds, merges. the world a playground for his presence.

yoongi's too drunk.

he wants to be a part of this playground.

yoongi's disgustingly drunk.

he wants to go towards him.

yoongi can feel his head spinning when he puts weight on his feet, off the chair, presses against strangers.

the blue light reflects off of him like how a god would be illuminated by the blue hue of the midnight moon.

"hey, joon-ah, i'll be back, stay here."

yoongi stumbles towards him, trips on someone's foot as they walk by, looking back up to see the man staring at him. too beautiful, he thinks. can't get enough, he adds.

maybe if yoongi wasn't drunk, he'd play this out properly. maybe. it's not even guaranteed he wouldn't be an absolute fuck up at this if he was sober. but, he's drunk, terribly so, and as any drunk person would do, he does finger guns when he gets about two meters away.

the guy frowns a bit. yoongi frowns. keeps on flexing his pointers as he approaches.

yoongi can't even feel his tongue when he gets in front of him, hands dropping gravely to his sides, the alcohol numbing it, burning it, but he still manages to—

"you're fucking beautiful."

the guy looks to his right. to his left. either sides of yoongi's head. back at yoongi.

he has the audacity to look surprised as he lifts a finger to himself, only one elbow on the counter, "me?"

"yes. you." yoongi deadpans. "you are very pretty. quite beautiful." he should stop talking, really, he should. "like really, really pretty." he doesn't.

"wow. you're confident," he blushes as he says it, and yoongi feels dizzy, slippery in his conscience.

"false." he waves a hand in dismissal, thinks he can feel it trespass on the guy's aura, pulls it back and feels honey drip from it, "i'm just drunk," he replies as he moves, props an elbow up on the counter and puts his face on the apple of his hand, "and you're pretty. destabilizingly so." he stumbles over that word, it ends up sounding a bit like destabingy. but he's drunk, it can slide.

the guy turns towards him, one elbow also on the counter, body leaning against it with grace. too beautiful, yoongi thinks. pretty eyelashes, the light hits them to make them shadow against his cheeks, cute, sharp, cheekbones strong, jaw stronger, nose bridge straight yet tilted the littlest bit upwards at the end—

wow.

"are you just gonna stare?" he sounds kind of offended, but he's blushing beneath the harsh blue light and his body language doesn't say get away from me. yoongi gets confused.

"uh. i— i'm sorry?" he slurs, something akin to hurt seeping into his words, "i can like, go, if i'm bothering you—"

"no, wait. no, my bad. it's just. are you here for something?"

"yeahhh," he grins, can barely see anything with the squish of his cheeks, "i got something to say."

there's a pause, and yoongi realizes he should continue talking.

"do you have a name—"

"hoseok."

yoongi pouts, slaps his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "no, man, hold on. wait. let me finish." hoseok grins and yoongi has to stop himself from actually gasping. intimidatingly pretty, he reminds himself.

"do you have a name or, " he pauses for effect, heart swooning when hoseok raises his eyebrows. "can i just call you mine?"

and then hoseok laughs. it's loud. it tumbles out of him like a melodious river, fills the entirety of the bar, and yoongi almost wheezes through its heaviness. everything about him is beautiful, yoongi thinks.

"alright," he exhales, still sounds on the border of a laugh, "that was okay. cheesy, but okay. what's your name?"

"yoongi," he beams. "wait, really?" he kind of forgets the point of even starting with the pick-up line, "i got a bunch more."

hoseok gestures vaguely for him to go ahead, a heart-shaped smile bright in the dim bar, makes yoongi's bloodstream thrum.

"alright, okay, so. uh." he looks to the side, thinks of another pick up line, "are you my appendix?"

hoseok shakes his head, smile etched so beautifully on his face, yoongi has to pull his eyes away from it.

"i still think i should really take you out."

"hmmm, okay. that one was iffy." he scrunches his nose, yoongi's jaw drops momentarily, "but, please do continue," he looks entertained, happy, it shines in his eyes, he shines, glimmers, the finest diamond.

"are you a time traveller," pause, "'cause i see you in my future!"

hoseok looks sheepish. "i heard that before."

"aw," yoongi frowns. "okay, this one," he waves his hand in front of him like he could clear the old line from the air, "please call an ambulance, 'cause your beauty is killing me."

it's bright when hoseok smiles. he understands why it looks like everything merges towards him. the sun just attracts. it's science. hoseok is the sun and yoongi has absolutely no gravity. it's science.

he smiles as he talks, "i'm flattered, really." he moves his hand and clutches the edge of the bar, looks apologetic, "but i don't think tonight is the right night."

"oh."

yoongi's drunk. that's why it must hurt this bad. he's drunk, and that's why it feels like he's been punched in the gut, left heaving for air. he's so drunk, and drunk yoongi becomes too fragile, too bold, too sensitive. he's drunk, it's normal, his hands are shaking hard, his brain screams at him to go back. he's good at reaching for things he can't achieve.

"i'm sorry," hoseok does actually sound apologetic.

"nah, it's fine," he manages despite the tightness in his throat, and in one final kick, "can we still talk though?" bold bold bold, too bold, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. he looks down at the mahogany wood of the counter, vision blurring with the movement momentarily. yoongi thinks he can see the faint shine on it, emanating from hoseok's being.

there's a pause, and then, "sure."

yoongi's head snaps up so quickly his head hurts at the action. "oh," he lets out densely, "okay." there's a pause, hoseok looks so pretty in the dimmed azure hues of the bar, purple catching in his eyes, shadowing his nose, yoongi gets a bit distracted, "so.. what's up?"

and then they're off. it's easy, talking with a drunk person. or, talking with a drunk person who's very interested in the other person. yoongi basically makes a fool of himself.

you don't need to know all of it, really. it starts off with hoseok telling yoongi about his day, yoongi listening as much as he can with the loud music in the back, and then it kinda fell to his dog, holly, at his parents' house, then it went to him showing hoseok his gallery collection of him, looked at hoseok more than he looked at his phone, and after that, conversation dissolved into friendly topics.

yoongi only gets off track when he glances back at his table to see namjoon nowhere in sight, cuts off in the middle of his phrase.

"— you good?" hoseok looks back too, frowning.

"uh, yeah. my— my friend, roommate," yoongi frowns, "i don't know where he went." yoongi wouldn't care in other circumstances, it's not like he's namjoon's dad, but tonight, when namjoon's all sad and miserable and drunk so much poison it probably liquified his brain, he's worried. worried enough to stop talking to hoseok.

"oh, okay," hoseok glances back again, like he thinks namjoon might've just reappeared, "you gonna go look for him?"

yoongi gulps, "yeah." he really doesn't want to stop talking to him, but namjoon— "don't want, don't want him to get hurt."

"do you need some help?" hoseok offers, looks genuine.

"no— i'm fine, thank you, though," yoongi doesn't know why he doesn't accept. maybe pride. there's a lapse of silence between them. "well, i'm gonna go, y'know, find him." he pushes himself off, the world tilts on its axis, in the bad way, bile shifts uncomfortably in his stomach, "bye." he waves.

hoseok grins, yoongi's blindsided, waves back, "goodbye, stay safe."

yoongi hums, is sure that hoseok doesn't hear it, and unhappily walks off to the bathroom.

he doesn't find namjoon, he's not in the bathroom, and yoongi's successfully pissed off a couple who was making out against the door. he isn't on the dance floor, as far as yoongi can see, and with a quick glance towards the bar, yoongi can confirm namjoon isn't there too. he gets scared. his hands shake as he makes his way outside, fumbling for his phone.

sitting on the curb, the dial tone mocks him, breaths heavy out into the cool air, sounds loud from the night time in the city.

namjoon picks up on the last ring, groggy voice like he had been asleep, "hi?"

"joon-ah, where are you?"

he hears shuffling, "at home."

yoongi breathes out in relief, shivers when the cold crawls up his arms, goosebumps, "why'd you leave?"

"i thought you and that dude were gonna smash," namjoon slurs, "sorry."

yoongi does think leaving was irresponsible, but it's in a very deep, hidden corner of his brain, where logic sits still, dark, and instead a bitter laugh finds its way from his chest, "nah." something feels lonely in him. maybe his chest. maybe his blood. maybe him as a whole. "wasn't interested. we just talked."

"was he nice?"

his fingers twitch across his thigh, the streetlights catch on asphalt, it smells of city, of too much, "yeah," he breathes out, "too nice."

"alright, then," namjoon burps, yoongi hears more shuffling, "gonna call a cab?"

the hum loses itself in the other noises, in the bass of the bar behind him, in the wandering people outside, maybe doesn't even leave his body, so he voices, "yeah, maybe. see you."

"be safe. m'sorry."

yoongi hangs up and puts the phone back in his pocket, just waits for a bit. for a while. some cars pass by, winds whooshing his hair away uncomfortably, exposed.

being drunk and being alone is a painful combination.

the pounding against his head just got painful. the dimmed music just got too loud. rejection is a bitch when everything is heightened, when every crevice in your body is filled with a depressant that's just waiting to knock you down, rough you up, kick, until you stand back up and smile with teeth missing.

yoongi runs his index over the wrist of his other hand absentmindedly, concentrates on breathing, in out, out in, again and again, until the function of his lungs feel awfully mandatory, like if he doesn't consciently push the air in through his nose, there's no oxygen that'll enter his body. it's distracting, worrying. scary. yoongi's mouth tastes like shit. the air he's forced to breathe in smells mostly like shit. he feels like shit. there's a lot of things that are shit in yoongi's life, actually. like his love life, like hoseok—

"yoongi?"

—nevermind. hoseok's good. better than good. surreal.

he cranes his head backwards to see hoseok walking towards him, flimsy black shirt flowing in the wind with his movements. yoongi feels himself lose a grip on reality, loses himself in the quick turn of the earth around the sun, gravity releasing him for a second.

hoseok sits down beside him quickly, on the curb, like it isn't going to dust his pants, and yoongi gets pulled back, pulled towards hoseok, arms grazing each other. it doesn't smell that bad, anymore.

"did you find your friend?" hoseok looks at him, head turned.

yoongi gets lost, somewhere in his pretty eyes, in his gaze, forgets that you're not supposed to stare at someone you just met like this, "he's at our apartment."

the look of relief is awfully sincere in hoseok's eye, but yoongi might be projecting. he looks away when they get too overwhelming.

"that's good."

a noncommittal hum gets swallowed by the surrounding sounds.

he doesn't know how much time hoseok just stays there, just beside yoongi, playing with the hem of his shirt, warmth engulfing him whole.

hoseok pipes up, "you gonna grab a taxi?"

"nah, i live like ten minutes away."

"really?" hoseok sounds oddly happy, it feels like kisses in yoongi's ear, "me too. what street?"

"complex 406 on solemei," yoongi replies.

"oh wow, i'm like, a block down from you."

yoongi smiles, feels bold once again, "wanna walk back together?"

and then, hoseok surprisingly says yes, even offers a hand and pulls yoongi up, stables him with an arm around his waist for a second, burns yoongi through his clothes. the heat wounds him in the worst ways.

 

 

"so," his hands flex against his thigh in his pocket, "when're you born?"

"february eighteenth."

"ohhh, the month of love," yoongi says like he just understood something. "so that's why you're all… like.. heart-shaped."

hoseok looks puzzled, raises his eyebrows.

"okay, not all," he retracts, "but your smile. it's like—" he blows out his cheeks, tries to make the apple of them more prominent as he brings his hands up, makes a crooked heart over his mouth, "like this." he slurs out, keeping the position.

hoseok smiles the exact smile he's talking about, "cute."

yoongi goes back to normal, "oh no, you should see the actual thing—"

"i meant you."

"oh." it takes a minute for his brain to run back into function, circuits reconnecting and zapping, and then, "thank you."

hoseok giggles, and the world shifts a bit, gets a bit more colorful.

magically beautiful, yoongi thinks.

when hoseok asks what about you? his voice sounds dreamlike when he answers.

 

 

they're almost at yoongi's flat when an idea pops into yoongi's head, got dragged into it after he found himself looking to the side more often than not, glancing at hoseok's hand.

"hey, hoseok."

"yeah?"

their steps patter against the sidewalk, it smells of city, of something hoseok, just an undertone. yoongi wants it to be the only smell in his life. he's so drunk. he wants to get drunk on that smell.

"want one more line?"

he smiles softly, barely there, doesn't look at him, just ahead, nods.

"your hand looks a bit heavy," yoongi's voice drops, quiet, as hoseok looks down at his hand, frowning, shining, fucking stunning, "can i hold it for you?"

and then he smiles, kind of sadly, maybe sympathy, definitely pretty, "yeah, sure."

hoseok reaches out first, takes yoongi's hand softly. yoongi hyper-drowns the feeling. the feeling of hoseok's careful fingers slipping into his, the feeling of his warm palm against his own, makes him want to drown, makes him want to fly, makes him want to kiss hoseok's knuckles until his lips leave stains on them. hoseok's index presses gently into yoongi's hand, his thumb rubs over yoongi's, sets fire to the skin it touches.

"your hand's very warm," yoongi doesn't look up from their intertwined hands, enjoys the contrast between sun-loved skin and his paleness too much.

hoseok giggles, it thrums through his hand, yoongi can feel it in his very core, shakes his being, "thanks. your hand's soft"

"cool," yoongi breathes, feels his brain melt, squeezes a little harder, kind of never wants to let go, "thanks."

hoseok doesn't let go. yoongi doesn't let go. instead, he begins the slow, stomach-dropping fall. doesn't realize it. but, it's there.

 

 

when they get to yoongi's complex, just city sounds littering around, lingering people and lingering shops, night time shining its blue hue, they're still holding hands.

"goodnight, yoongi," hoseok lets go slowly, eyes prolonged on yoongi's hands now hanging limply at his sides, "it was nice to meet you."

"yeah," yoongi wants to say something, ask something more, but hoseok said tonight is not the right night and it's still not the right night, so there's nothing he can really do but repeat, "it was nice to meet you."

yoongi turns away too quick after that, head spiralling, angry at him, makes his vision double and twist, and after a second step, another after that, another, another, the automatic doors slide open, he lets out, "hoseok?"

hoseok, apparently, hasn't moved since they bid their farewells, just stood there, "yeah?"

yoongi turns back bashfully, sways a bit, "wanna come up? not for like, any sexy times," his face burns as he grimaces, "just for sleeping. 'cause it's late an' all."

and surprisingly, hoseok nods, takes a step forward, and another, and another, until he's by yoongi's side.

in the elevator, their hands find each other again, and yoongi feels warm, so inexplicably warm his toes curl inside his shoes as he presses a bit closer to hoseok, flexes his fingers. hoseok makes him feel beautiful, deep inside, beneath a lot of layers, hoseok makes him feel pretty. he's drunk, delirious, but hoseok's hand in his as he sludges ahead feels a lot like a dream come true.

yoongi falters a bit when he tries to open the door, refusing to let go of hoseok’s hand, but after a minute or two, he gets it right. the door creaks loudly, and not that yoongi particularly cares, it's just that namjoon is supposedly sleeping right now, and he doesn't want to answer any questions, give any explanations about why there's hoseok here. in their flat. yoongi feels giddy, like a kid who just heard the ice cream truck come by.

"make yourself at home, please." yoongi staggers towards the kitchen after kicking off his shoes, reluctantly letting go, "sorry if you find somethin'. we didn't clean. i'll be back." he can hear hoseok shuffle inside the apartment, it feels warmer, he hears him breathe out, "okay."

the fridge opens and yoongi's hand reaches in shakily for a beer, feels like he needs to be a bit more blurry, just for a little while longer, tomorrow he'll be done with this drinking. just for tonight, he thinks he can let himself drift away. he doesn't like the vague sense of awareness blanketing him, listlessness, the pounding in his head starting to get stronger.

from inside, he calls out lowly, "you want a beer?"

hoseok appears somewhere beside him, "no thanks. but—"

there's a pause, yoongi's lifts his head, peers at hoseok atop of the door, "yeah?"

"maybe you should stop? with the alcohol?" voice quiet, on the edge of pleading.

he gets up, beer can in his hand hanging meekly at his side, and he gives a big smile. too bold when he's drunk. "maybe you should try to stop me?"

with a switch of character, hoseok smirks, and it sends a fucking jolt through yoongi's body. electrocutes. sets fire to his veins. he steps forward. "hmm," complentive, steps forward again, yoongi thinks the whole floor shakes with its power, delirious, "maybe i should."

yoongi grips the cold metal in his hand harder, tongue swiping out to wipe at his lips. he's not sure where he thought that was going to go, but everything just got more intense, leaves his head feeling dizzy. feels like he just got whiplash from how all shifted, enjoys it a bit too much.

and then yoongi bolts. or, kind of bolts, as fast as someone as drunk as him can go without tripping and splitting their head open, so not that fast. but it doesn't last long before he gets jumped, hoseok tackling him onto the carpeted floor of their living room.

yoongi lets out a very surprised yell as he hits the floor, a body atop of his. he honestly feels like laughing, hysterics, because he doesn't really understand what's happening. he crawls away, beer can still clutched in his hands. hoseok pulls at his ankles, tugs him towards him with a force yoongi didn't know hoseok had, has him gasping quietly, careful to not kick, not hurt hoseok as he struggles out of his grip.

as he climbs over yoongi, hoseok presses his butt, yoongi's eyes widen impossibly as a drunken giggle slips past his lips. yoongi sees a hand reaching for his and he pulls back, twists around with the intention to push hoseok away with a press on his chest, but hoseok ends up grabbing yoongi's wrist, the one with the beer car, tugging it out of his hold with his other hand and propelling it away.

he comes close to laying his elbow on yoongi's face after, yoongi turning away in case, but ends up landing it beside yoongi's head, other hand still gripping his wrist, body splayed out on top of his, legs spread out, face to face.

a second passes, hearts thumping hard, and hoseok should get off, yoongi should ask him to get off, the beer is out of his hold. yoongi feels himself heat up, like molten lava replaced his blood. hoseok breathes softly, fans over yoongi's chin and neck, and he has to suppress the urge to shudder. they should get up, go to bed, sleep, just get away from each other.

but no one's moving. it's devastatingly quiet. the can stopped rolling. like time slowed down, stopped, ceased altogether for them, for this moment. vast dimensions closing for this to happen. yoongi is so drunk, and hoseok is so close that he can count the small freckles on his cheeks, the ones that don't exist if you're not nose to nose. he drags his gaze off hoseok's eyes to his lips. sticks there like prey in a spiderweb.

"hoseok," he breathes, it bounces off the walls, still has a small smile, "can i kiss you?"

he nods, his nose brushes against yoongi's with the action.

a second later, yoongi lifts his head, hoseok leans in, and their lips meet for something yoongi can only define as overwhelming. hoseok kisses as beautifully as he does everything else. it's easy, yoongi tilts his head, hoseok leans his weight on one elbow as he releases yoongi's wrist, palms his cheek as they continue. it's mind fuzzing, hoseok makes a tiny noise in his mouth and yoongi imagines tasting it as he slides his hand up to the collar of hoseok's shirt, holds on. his skin sears, fires, hoseok sets him alight. they break away when air is annoyingly needed for them to continue, just to inhale in quick and lean back in, soft soft soft lips against softer ones.

hoseok tastes like endless metaphors of heat and summer and home and everything yoongi's ever wanted, tastes like jupiter colliding with mars, flowers blooming within flowers, tastes like caramelized sugar and cotton candy in a festival. yoongi can't get enough.

when hoseok pulls away too far one time, yoongi just follows, chases his lips with something akin to a whine leaving his mouth, and hoseok leans back in, small smile blooming on his face. yoongi can feel it, flushes as he kisses harder, teeth clacking a bit.

the softness of hoseok’s fingers against his skin drags yoongi somewhere deep, fond. hoseok brushes his thumb against his cheek, kisses deeper, tongue swiping at yoongi's bottom lip before. they kiss until yoongi can feel hoseok's heart on his collarbone, until yoongi is shaking and trembling and about to float away, only held down by the press of hoseok's body on top of his.

yoongi breathes loudly as hoseok pulls away, tilts his head when hoseok ducks down towards his neck, lips catching on warm skin, makes yoongi shiver as he grips hoseok's shirt tighter. hoseok presses closer, moves, and in the movement, his knee grazing other areas. right into hoseok's ear, yoongi whimpers.

"oh." hoseok makes a surprised sound, like this wasn't supposed to happen, breathes it in the crevice of yoongi's neck.

"oh my g— i'm sorry, holy shit" yoongi's voice is wrecked, "you're just a really good kisser, like," he tries pushing his body into the floor, tears his hand away, "fuck, oh my god, i'm sorry."

hoseok pulls back, looks at yoongi.

"i swear i meant what i said," yoongi looks away from hoseok, gaze too intense, lips too spit-slicked, "no sexy times. but like—" his face sears, "i'm sorry, oh god, this is so—"

and then, hoseok kisses him. just on the corner of his lips. soft for what just happened, what's happening. it shuts him up good. he wonders if his face will blow up from how bad it's heating up.

"s'fine, yoongi," whispers on yoongi's face, caresses it, "let's just—"

he pulls himself off on yoongi, drops with a thud beside him, exhales, and yoongi feels impossibly light, like he's about to float away. he panics, scared. yoongi reaches blindly for hoseok's hand beside him, still hasn't looked back, almost cries in relief when hoseok threads their fingers, pulls him back towards the ground. the sun and its gravity.

some time passes, yoongi isn't sure, his lips burn and feel wet, and he's sure his cheeks are going to permanently shaded bright red. in between hoseok and him, there's their hands, heartbeats thrumming together, the carpet weirdly soft beneath them. yoongi looks back, stares at the ceiling, turns a bit more, looks at hoseok. his heartbeat picks up acutely, worlds shifting, dimensions too loose.

fuck, yoongi thinks, he's so beautiful.

it churns in his stomach, grapples at his ribs. so, so beautiful.

hoseok turns his head, meets yoongi's gaze head-on. he swallows loudly, shudders.

"so," hoseok pipes up after a couple, enough time for yoongi to soften, quiet, he looks away and closes his eyes, "why'd you get so hammered?"

"today was—" he looks away as well, pulls hoseok's hand closer, it presses against his thigh, "a bad day."

"wanna talk about it?" hoseok asks, as if they're not strangers.

yoongi answers, because he doesn't want them to be, "i'm a painter," he huffs, "and like, shit just wasn't coming to me today. i have a big project next week. just got a bit frustrated," he slurs. his head pounds.

he hums in understanding, presses into yoongi's hold a bit more.

"what about you?" he asks, quiet quiet as if too loud would destroy the moment.

"aspiring rapper who just wanted a drink."

yoongi loosens his hold.

just wanted a drink.

hoseok squeezes tighter. yoongi smiles, small.

that's all they say. all yoongi can really handle at the moment. he feels like he's about to implode, explode, throw up stardust and acid, fly to the moon and keep gravity in his eyes, he feels like the world is in his hand, too green, too soft, he's drunk, surreal, and as his heavy eyelids close, he really just feels tired.

the images behind his eyelids are black, soundless, but there's pressing on his lips that feel oddly familiar.

 

 

yoongi gets torn from slumber when he hears someone speak, confused.

"the fuck?" namjoon says, too loud.

hoseok jerks away, arms freeing yoongi from how he ended up caged in them, still on the floor, and they both let out a quiet groan at the sudden movement.

yoongi doesn't have to open his eyes, doesn't want to open his eyes, it's way too fucking bright, instead he just say, "shhh," his throat burns a bit, "i'll explain later. go away."

and because namjoon is namjoon, he's actually kind of bright, somehow, he obeys, grunts out an okay, as the door clicks closed softly.

yoongi palms his eyes, groans progressively louder as the events of last night come back to him, curls in on himself.

he remembers tearing his sketch in half, namjoon calling him a couple minutes later, announcing that he lost his job. he remembers getting drunk, making vodka his best friend, remembers seeing a literal fucking god, being too bold for his own good, hand tingling, and then kissing. a lot of kissing. he can still taste some, past the disgusting taste of everlasting alcohol layered in his mouth, glistens somewhere under his tongue.

his head snaps back so fast he hears it crack, and he squints, sees hoseok's face scrunched up a bit, gaze locked on the floor as he palms the side of his back.

"oh my fucking god. i kissed you when i was drunk," he gapes, "my mouth must have tasted like shit."

"you say oh my god a lot," hoseok doesn't smile, but his face scrunches harder when he squeezes himself, "it's fine." now, he looks up, and yoongi almost astral projects, the sight of hoseok in the morning sun is quite overwhelming, even muffled by his lashes, "you're a good kisser."

he blushes, "you too." there's a pause. "wait, oh my go—" he lets his head fall back on the floor with a dull thud, "i fucking got hard from that." there's a resonating slap when his palm meets his face, "nnnggg."

hoseok giggles, all pretty, all godly, it paints the room in colors only yoongi can see, looks like pink in his kitchen, light green on the carpet, purple on his curtains, bright red on his chest, specifically where his heart beats. a halo glows above hoseok’s head.

“only a bit, it’s fine,” hoseok dismisses, falls onto the floor, “it was cute.”

yoongi burns across his neck, “god.”

“hey, hey,” yoongi wants to hear hoseok’s morning voice every day. “it wasn't just you.”

yoongi chokes on nothing for a moment, eyes widening, doesn’t know what to do with that information but burn brighter, “so, don’t worry about it.”

yoongi's eyes water with how long they've been open. he's frozen for a while longer, hoseok's probably wondering if he broke him, yoongi thinks he did, and yoongi breathes in, out, tries to get rid of his flush, swallows and winces at the rotten taste in his mouth. he blinks, and decides to grow some balls, tries to be bold, even sober, as he glares at the ceiling, and

“i’m gonna go brush my teeth,” he announces, like it’s the grandest thing, his voice wavers, “you want a spare?”

hoseok says yes after a moment and yoongi gets up shakily, head spinning. hoseok stands up too, and yoongi’s head feels a different type of dizzy as he smiles at him, the type of dizzy that leaves him warm.

they brush in a weird silence. just the sound of toothpaste and brushing reverberating in the bathroom, and yoongi feels like a fucking dumbass, to be frank. feels a fucking floating dumbass, though, with hoseok smiling a bit even as the toothpaste covers his lips in white and shit, even when he spits out in the fucking sink, fluffy soft bed hair falling over his eyes for a second, yoongi still tells himself that hoseok has to be the most beautiful man he has ever seen. the thought is ever-present. he glances every now and then from the two minute activity, but the one time he catches hoseok's eye has him keeping his head down for the rest of it.

hoseok finishes first, brushes past yoongi with a tap on his shoulder. yoongi hyper-drowns in the feeling.

you know, maybe if yoongi was still drunk, he'd know what to do. or like, not know what to do, just do something. bold, careless, maybe funny. a whole lot less awkward. but yoongi is painfully sober, and whatever he found attractive about hoseok when all the edges of his vision were blurred just multiplied tenfold, makes him quite nervous, sweaty.

he slaps himself in the face before stepping out of the bathroom, turning the corner to enter the living room.

hoseok sits small on the couch, legs tucked beneath each other, crossed on top of the couch cushion, looks so pretty in the dim light of a saturday morning.

jungkook would probably call him whipped. he thinks he's whipped. he feels a tad bit pathetic for it, but it's too brittle to do anything about.

hoseok's playing with his phone, back hunched as his fingers tap away, but looks up when yoongi's floor creaks under his weight, smiles a tired smile, terrible for yoongi's heart rate.

"hey."

yoongi clears his throat, "hi."

hoseok looks back down as yoongi sits, closer than appropriate for basically strangers, can feel the heat emanating from hoseok's crossed legs.

the phone settles on the table with a dull thud, and hoseok untangles his legs, grazes yoongi's, burns him in summer heat. yoongi frowns, confused, watches hoseok stand, and he's about to speak, but when hoseok rounds his legs, places himself in between them, the words die in his throat.

yoongi's head tilts upwards a bit more, eyes glued to hoseok's, mouth dropping a bit. the sun casts a halo around his body, looks angelic. yoongi doesn't know what to do. he feels terribly warm, all over, in the crevice on his neck, in the spaces of his eyelashes, at the tip of his fingers, aches to do something, aches with the warmth of it all.

his breath catches in his throat when hoseok leans in. one of hoseok's hand falls beside yoongi's shoulder, grasps the tip of the couch as the other lifts to palm his cheek, cradles it. it burns on his skin. yoongi sizzles with fondness.

a couple of inches separate their faces when hoseok puts one knee on one side of yoongi's legs, the other doing the same, ends up stradling yoongi in the softest way, thumbs the skin under yoongi's eyes, starlight following it, tingles beautifully, breaths hot on his face.

hoseok tilts his head as he leans in and yoongi's eyes flutter close. he melts like cotton candy in water under hoseok's hands, sighs happily into the kiss as one hand rest on hoseok's knee. their chests press together when hoseok comes closer, innocent kisses, feels too intimate, hoseok's arm falls and finds yoongi's hand, intertwines their fingers.

yoongi smiles as hoseok kisses him, lips touching his teeth for a second.

hoseok pulls back first, harsh breaths warm on yoongi's wet lips.

"why'd you do that?" yoongi asks, breathless.

"didn't want it to be awkward," hoseok tells him, as simple as that, kisses his nose quickly. yoongi feels inexplicably good.

"oh," he lets out, dumbly, "that's nice."

hoseok looks at him with stars in his eyes as he smiles.

"so," hoseok glances down at their hands, "wanna go eat breakfast?"

yoongi nods his head so enthusiastically he thinks he brain broke loose. he licks his lips, tastes hoseok on them, nods again.

"you're so cute, yoongi-ah."

his mouth drops in devastation for a second as pools of heat form on his face, leans in to press a quick kiss to hoseok's lips, hand slipping higher on his waist, whispers against his mouth, "you're unreal."

his toes curl against the carpet as hoseok grins, like that's the best thing he's ever heard.

"just to be clear," his hand pushes yoongi's bangs back, twirls one in his fingers, "this is a date."

yoongi presses up into the touch, "thought you weren't interested."

"changed my mind."

the sound of satisfaction yoongi lets out is completely by accident.

hoseok tears away from yoongi's lap, pulls him up with a tug of the hand, and they both already have their shoes on when yoongi remembers namjoon.

"one second," he presses a kiss to hoseok's cheek, "i'll be back."

before yoongi even holds the knob, the door pulls open, reveals a smiling namjoon, shit-eating grin that yoongi's too happy to do anything about.

"so?"

yoongi pushes in, closes the door behind them.

"i'm fucking in love."

namjoon looks so happy, a contrast to what he actually looks like, dark circles and eye boogers and just generally miserable from his hangover, but he still jumps up and down a bit, face scrunching in pain after for a second.

when he calms down, "he looks nice. didn't even fuck you when you were drunk."

"that's just decency," yoongi frowns, "but yeah, sure."

namjoon gives him a pat on the shoulder, "alright, well, go get 'em. i believe in you. tell me more after. don't fuck it up."

"fuck you, joon."

the shit-eating grin is back, and yoongi joins hoseok back at the entrance quickly.

they hold hands on the way to some brunch restaurant, and yoongi wants, wants wants wants like its his only function. they hold hands under the booth whenever they can, hoseok wipes the corner of yoongi's lips when he gets syrup there, yoongi kisses it off hoseok's, revels in how hoseok blushes, and lets out a dreamy sigh. he wants this to last forever.

the most beautiful, yoongi thinks.

Notes:

and the end ! hoseok and yoongi go out and get married and hoseok becomes a great rapper who dedicates his next album to yoongi, for min yoongi, calls it sexy times and yoongi becomes a great painter, makes his breakthrough, his rendition of jupiter and mars colliding, titles it the sunlit disasters.

thank you so much for reading !!

remember, hobi is very pretty