Chapter Text
“Mother FUCKER.”
Hoseok looks up to see his roommate toss his phone onto his bed before flopping down beside it with a groan.
“You good?” Hoseok asks with notable concern laced in his tone
“Yeah,” Yoongi huffs out, “it’s just one of my friends… being dumb.”
While still looking mildly concerned, Hoseok seems content with this explanation and goes back to his differential calculus homework. Fun stuff. Yoongi has no idea why anyone would willingly suffer through that shit. Hoseok seems to genuinely enjoy it though. To each his own, or whatever.
Yoongi doesn’t know whether to elaborate or not on his current dilemma, and while Hoseok seems like a nice guy and everything, he’s not really sure where he and Hoseok stand in regards to their relationship as roommates/acquaintances/friends and he’s pretty sure Hoseok doesn’t know Yoongi is bisexual. Kind of awkward to come out to your roommate by explaining that your other ‘friend’ finds joy in seeing you struggle through blind dates you didn't ask for. Hey, my friend is a dickish asshole but it’s okay since I like dick? He internally cringes at the thought. Yoongi prides himself in being a little bit more eloquent than that. He’s not a linguistics major just for the pain of constantly being asked if he studies pasta by dumbasses like Jiwon (“that’s linguini you dumb shit, not linguistics”). He could go with Jungkook’s more straightforward approach.
Hyung, he had said seriously, like a baseball bat, I swing both ways.
Yoongi had wanted to whack him so hard with a textbook that day.
While Yoongi is nowhere near ashamed of his sexuality, he doesn’t blatantly advertise it. And even though he’s pretty sure Hoseok isn’t homophobic or anything, he doesn’t really tell people unless he feels it’s relevant and usually it’s not likely to come up in conversation, so a lot of people just… don’t know. (It’s also a little weird how some people treat him differently when they find out he’s not straight, so there’s that too.)
He flips his phone over again to give himself a visual reminder of his pain. (He’s not a masochist, he swears.) The offending text glares at him mockingly from the dim screen.
Sangguk >> Yoongi: i got a d8 for uuuuu. no need to thank me ;) it’s a surprise, so I’m not tellingggg whoooo. Friday, 8 pm. i even picked the place 4 u, bc ily that much hyung
Sangguk >> Yoongi: [location]
Yoongi is more than a little tempted to respond with a middle-finger emoji.
Yoongi doesn’t hate blind dates specifically, he just hates dates in general. He barely has enough energy most days to eat three meals, shower, and finish his homework. He’s too exhausted for dating. Yet somehow, Sangguk doesn’t seem to get the hint and keeps setting him up on dates with various other people on campus. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but it’s far from the best. It only qualifies as “not worst” since he’s met some decent people through Sangguk’s shenanigans who are now fairly good friends of his (but he would never tell Sangguk that).
Like Namjoon.
On their date, the poor kid managed to spill a glass of water onto his lap and the table before he had even sat down. The rest of the date followed in a similar fashion, with Yoongi footing the bill for both a cracked plate and a waitress’s dry cleaning after Namjoon’s unfortunate battle with his pasta. To this day, Yoongi still can’t fathom how one person can be so clumsy and destructive and do so much stupid shit yet still be so intelligent. Yoongi’s lost more than a few coffee mugs to Namjoon’s butterfingers, but Yoongi probably wouldn’t have survived through half of his papers without Namjoon’s revisions.
So sure, the blind dates could be justified as a win-win situation, but Yoongi’s so tired. He tells this to Namjoon while face-planted in Namjoon and Seokjin’s couch. Namjoon just sits quietly and toys with one of the throw pillows.
“You know, you could always ditch. You’re not obligated to show up.”
Yoongi tilts his head toward Namjoon’s voice.
“But you know I won’t do it. It’s not right. I would feel so bad if I ditched the person, even if I don’t know them and even though I didn’t sign up for this.” Yoongi huffs out a breath. “I’ll just go. Maybe I’ll get a free dinner out of it.”
---
It’s Thursday, and Yoongi is done. He’s jittery, and tired, and anxious, and his mind just won’t shut up, and because he’s a dumbass he’s been trying to get his key out of his pocket and into the door while balancing five textbooks in his other hand. He does eventually get the door open. Small mercies.
Yoongi alerts Hoseok of his presence with a sound between an inhuman screech, a frustrated cry, and a pained groan.
“Bro, are you good?” What alarm Hoseok is able to keep off his face certainly doesn’t escape his tone, and Yoongi is quick to reassure him that he is not dying. In this present moment.
Yoongi honestly feels kind of bad for Hoseok. He’s probably stressing the poor boy out and he’s actually fine, he’s just being dramatic and Hoseok doesn’t deserve to deal with it.
When he expresses this to the other, he appears mildly confused. “Well, I mean, you’re actually fine. Don’t worry about it.” Hoseok clears his throat and opts for staring at his fingers rather than looking at Yoongi. “I actually just worry about you, you know? Because, you’re stressed a lot, and I know you don’t eat enough and you tend to ignore your own needs and… as your roommate, I just… kind of worry sometimes, you know?” He glances back up to gauge Yoongi’s expression.
Yoongi isn’t really sure what to say. He hopes his sad excuse for a smile and quiet “thanks” will suffice.
“No problem,” Hoseok tucks his leg underneath him. “We’re roommates for a reason. I’m supposed to keep you from dying.”
Yoongi isn’t sure if that quip was supposed to be humorous, but it does bring a small smile to his face.
---
It’s Friday afternoon and Yoongi has become one with his mattress. He decided that morning that the two granola bars he shoved in his mouth at 10:30am along with the day-old cold brew coffee he chugged half an hour later were adequate sustenance for the entire day, and has been laying in the same position with his laptop propped on his stomach for the better part of the day. He has an essay due in a few hours that he needs to finish editing and he’s entered The Zone, only accompanied by occasional keyboard taps and Eminem’s angry yelling turned tinny by his laptop speakers. His glasses keep sliding down his nose and he vaguely registers his phone buzzing next to his thigh but at this point literally nothing matters because he is going to finish this fucking essay. Hobi comes into the room at some point, shuffles around a bit and leaves soon after, saying something over his shoulder that is probably directed at Yoongi but he’s not really paying attention, and Yoongi just grunts distractedly in response.
Yoongi’s finally finishes an hour before his deadline and he lets out a long sigh of relief. He checks his phone, and-
shit.
“Shitshitshitshit-” Yoongi catapults off the bed with agility he didn’t know his body even contained because it’s 7:55pm and he was supposed to get to the restaurant at 8 and hell will freeze over before Yoongi lets this stranger that he will probably never see again think that he’s the kind of person to stand up his blind dates.
---
Yoongi skids into the restaurant at 8:07 with only one functioning lung and muscles that he didn’t even know existed burning. He heads towards the back where Sangguk said the person would be sitting and sees…
“Hoseok?”
Hoseok looks up.
“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t know if they’re here yet. What are you doing here?”
And somehow they both figure it out way faster than they expected to.
“Holy fucking shit.” Yoongi breathes out.
There’s no way.
“You’re gay?” Hoseok says at the same time.