Archive of Our Own

Jeongguk should know by now that he’s Hoseok’s favorite.

There isn’t any better reason for Hoseok to be biking across the whole city (alright, maybe like, a couple of kilometers) when he’s already so tired from finishing his work day, muscles screaming at him with exertion, except that Jeongguk had sent a text. Jeongguk never texts, so even the appearance of a simple “lonely :(“ was enough to spur Hoseok into motion. His thigh muscles protest, but Hoseok pushes through the burn.

It’ll be worth it.

But the point stands that Jeongguk should know that this ultimately settles Jimin and Taehyung’s never-ending debate over whether or not Jeongguk is Hoseok’s favorite. Hoseok generally agrees with Taehyung’s position that one Park Jimin is one of the best things in the entire world, but it’s just-

It’s Jeongguk, a corner of Hoseok whispers. It’s different. It’s Jeongguk.

A pale slice of white through the crisp fall air is all it takes to disrupt Hoseok’s focus. It tickles along the edge of his awareness, startling him enough that he has to flail a foot off his bicycle pedals to keep him from tipping over entirely. Hoseok peers over his shoulder, trying to spot whatever it was that flashed at him. A bird? A loose towel? A Frisbee? Being this close to Jeongguk’s college campus, it could be anything, and it’s plain and simple curiosity that has Hoseok toeing along the ground as he examines his surroundings.

But maybe, Hoseok thinks, he might know what it is.

His bike wheels tick-tick-tick along.

Nothing here, nothing there, nothing along the alleyways that he can see, and Hoseok frowns. It’s probably nothing at all, then. Just. A weird figment of his imagination. Definitely not a ghost. It’s the middle of the afternoon, after all.

That said, maybe one more look around couldn’t hurt.

No, nothing there, but a quick scan of the street shows him a few piles of rubbish and debris, typical of city streets and-

There.

Resting innocuously against the curb is a paper airplane.

Huh. He hadn’t been seeing things after all. Hoseok walks his bike over to the plane, curiosity pinging like the rattle of his bike’s gears. It’s a cute little thing. Well folded, too. Built to actually fly. Hoseok picks it up, turning it over in his hands before a scrawling script catches his eye- a few words, written along the inside. Hoseok carefully unfolds it to see what it reads.

“Your smile is like the sun and I feel like a flower, helplessly turned towards you for however long you remain in sight.”

Hoseok smiles almost reflexively, tracing the words with a breathless sort of disbelief. How sweet. A quick glance around the area doesn’t reveal where the plane could have come from, and Hoseok reads it again and again. It’s a college campus, so the idea of someone just throwing away such a sweet note makes a strange sort of sense. It’s something Hoseok would do. Write a love letter and anonymously hurl it out a window to let the wind take it where it goes.

This isn’t the first paper airplane he’s found lingering around Jeongguk’s campus, and the more of them he finds, the more his curiosity is piqued. He wonders who wrote them. Who the notes are written for. Hoseok’s chest clenches at the thought that the intended recipient won’t ever get to see such lovely little notes, and he sighs a little before folding the plane along one of the many premade creases and tucking it into his bag.

Better him than no one, right?

His phone buzzes.

JK~
hobi-hyung m hungry
are u still on ur way? Will I ever see u again

Hobi~
calm your tits jk I’m literally outside
look out your window for like 2 secs and you’ll see me

JK~
cool

A rattle above has Hoseok’s head lifting, and sure enough, he spots Jeongguk’s wavy head of hair as it pokes outside one building further down. “Jeongguk-ah, get back inside!” he shouts, waving his phone. “I’ll be right there!”

“Hi, hyung!” Jeongguk shouts back as he leans his whole torso out to give Hoseok a wave and a goddamn heart attack. “You took forever!”

“Some of us have this thing called work? A job?” Hoseok walks his bike the rest of the way to Jeongguk’s building, leaning back to keep yelling as he hooks it up to the bike rack. It would only be the third or fourth time they’ve gotten noise complaints, and college students are willing to put up with a lot, so Hoseok doesn’t bother quieting down. “How else do you expect to keep getting fed, hm?”

He can see the way Jeongguk’s nose wrinkles from his spot on the sidewalk. “Sounds fake. I have other hyungs who can feed me.”

“Yah, Jeongguk!”

“Just come on up already! I’ve been waiting forever,” Jeongguk whines. He disappears back inside without waiting for Hoseok, who only shakes his head and makes for the door.

“Hey there, baby,” Hoseok says, wrapping Jeongguk in a hug as soon as the door opens. Jeongguk ducks his head into the crook of Hoseok’s neck, leaning in like a dog who underestimates his size and thinks he is much smaller than he is. Hoseok only holds on tighter.

Jeongguk pulls away with a bright smile. “Hey. You said something about food?”

“I see how it is. You only want me for my wallet.”

“If that’s all I wanted, I would’ve called Jin-hyung instead. Or Yoongi-hyung. They can’t resist feeding me. Look at my face.”

Hoseok pinches Jeongguk’s cheeks, tugging at them to Jeongguk’s raucous protest. “I see your face just fine. If you don’t pick some takeout in the next thirty seconds, it’s my choice and you’ll have to suffer the consequences.”

Jeongguk whines and dives for a pile of menus on his desk.

They order takeout and pile together on Jeongguk’s narrow dorm bed while they wait. Jeongguk has plenty of stories from the last week of school, bits of choreography for his dance club that he wants Hoseok’s critical eye on, and it fills a warm spot in Hoseok’s chest to be depended on like this. Food arrives in the middle of Jeongguk executing a particularly tricky kick. He ends up with his foot caught against his pants and trips into a beanbag he had pushed to the side. Hoseok laughs all the way to the door, fishing out bills to pay the delivery guy.

It isn’t until he’s putting his wallet back in his backpack that he encounters the note again, crumpled and forgotten at the base of his bag. Hoseok thumbs the paper but leaves it there. The note squiggles its way under his skin, worming about in the back of his mind as they devour noodles together.

Hoseok eyes Jeongguk, whose cheeks are stuffed full of food. Since he keeps finding the paper airplanes in the neighborhood, maybe…

“Hey, Jeongguk-ah. Do you know anyone in your building who makes paper airplanes?”

Jeongguk coughs. His eyes go wide, face turning an uncomfortable shade of pink as he chokes a little on his food. Hoseok pats him between his shoulder blades. Ah, this kid always eats too fast. As though he can hear Hoseok’s mental scolding, Jeongguk grabs his water and downs a few mouthfuls until he can breathe again. Looking a little wild around the eyes, Jeongguk says, “Uh, no, that’s a weird thing to ask. Why do you ask?”

“Oh it’s just.” Hoseok shrugs, thinking about the tender words folded so carefully and sent on their way. “I’ve seen a few of them on the sidewalk around your building the last couple of times I’ve been here. I was wondering if you knew anything more about them.”

Jeongguk laughs, high and a little nervous. Probably a little spooked that his food could have betrayed him the way it did. Hoseok rubs the back of his neck and does not linger against Jeongguk’s warm skin. “That’s weird. But, uh, no, I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. Aren’t paper planes kind of a kid thing? Who knows. Art students are weird.”

That gets a laugh from Jeongguk, and Hoseok ruffles Jeongguk’s soft hair. “That’s true. I’ve seen all the trouble you and Taehyungie get up to.” He frowns, tilts his head. “Maybe it’s Taehyung.”

“Just don’t worry about it too much, hyung,” says Jeongguk. “And definitely don’t pick any of them up. What if they’re full of uh… razors? Or like, drugs?”

“Jeongguk-ah,” Hoseok says seriously, “someone who has gone through the trouble of getting drugs is not going to put them on paper airplanes and send them flying willy-nilly around a college campus.”

Jeongguk blinks, eyes huge and slightly starry with the hint of tears, and Hoseok thinks distantly that Jeongguk’s whole face should be registered as a lethal weapon. The effect as a whole is devastating. Hoseok would do anything to stop this face, and Jeongguk absolutely knows it. “But hyung. What if it’s a sting operation? You’re too pretty to go to jail.”

And this whole situation is just so absurd at this point that Hoseok laughs. He pulls Jeongguk against his side with an arm around his shoulders, unbearable and fond. “Ah, Jeongguk-ah, don’t worry. Hyung won’t pick up any drugged paper planes.”

Hoseok thinks of the note pressed flat in his backpack, a warm twist to his heart. Little paper planes with love notes tucked carefully into every crease, however? Those are fair game.

There is no greater joy than working with a dancer like Jeongguk, Hoseok thinks.

He finishes the count with a sharp movement of his hands before letting out a breath, turning to Jeongguk. “See the difference there in the crossover? I think that’ll fix the issue you’re seeing.”

Jeongguk watches him, mouth parted sweetly in concentration. Nodding, Jeongguk repeats the count, and the shape of the minute adjustments Hoseok suggested are already in place, settling in like they’ve been there forever. It’ll take another few run-throughs to ensure they’re cemented as firmly as they need to be, but Jeongguk’s stubbornness and hard work has a way of making these sorts of things look effortless. Hoseok knows better than most how practice wears knowledge into your body the way rivers carve themselves into the land with constant, thorough effort.

Grinning, Hoseok waits for the count to finish before he’s up in Jeongguk’s space, nudging him. “Ahh, so talented, Jeongguk! You’re doing so well! Of course you are, you always work so hard.”

“Ah, hyung.” Jeongguk ducks his head, shy, which makes Hoseok coo more. Jeongguk’s so cute. Hoseok ruffles his hair, cackling when Jeongguk ducks again, no longer shy but avoidant instead.

Hoseok’s hand is still in Jeongguk’s hair. He shifts the loose curls with an absent hum, brushing them back from his sweaty forehead. It’s little gross, sure, but Hoseok is just as in need of a shower as Jeongguk is and he decides that mutual sweatiness isn’t completely terrible as he scratches Jeongguk’s scalp. Jeongguk’s eyes flutter closed as he tilts into the contact.

Jeongguk’s eyelashes are really very long, Hoseok muses.

A cough pulls him out of his haze. “Should we go wash up?” Jeongguk jabs a thumb at the showers but makes no effort to move away from Hoseok’s touch where he’s stooped over. Why on earth is he stooped over? He isn’t that much taller than Hoseok. Hasn’t ever been. Except…

Jeongguk straightens fully, and Hoseok, taking in a steady breath, has to tilt his head back to keep looking at Jeongguk’s wide smile. His lungs stick for a moment before he shakes it off. With effort, Hoseok clears his throat. Lowers his hand. “Yeah. C’mon, let’s get clean.”

Flash of that brilliant smile, and Jeongguk jogs off to the shower.

Hoseok should follow him.

In a moment, Hoseok will follow him. In just a moment. He needs a second to recalibrate, to marry this image he has of Jeongguk, slender and doe-eyed, to what has happened under his nose at some point over the last several years. Taller, for sure. Taller than Hoseok now. Broader across the shoulders too. Still slim but in the way Jimin is slim. Powerful and compact. But still willing to hunch over just so Hoseok can pet his head easier, with the same eyes.

Hoseok rubs his fingers together absently. The tactile sense-memory of Jeongguk’s hair lingers, and Hoseok’s nose wrinkles. Wet hair. Wet with sweat that Hoseok has just been digging into his skin, ew, alright! Alright! It’s time for that shower. No more time for thinking, for sliding the transparency of the boy Hoseok first met over the man he’s become somehow while Hoseok wasn’t paying attention.

“Jimin-hyung and Taehyung say they’re waiting outside for us,” Jeongguk says once they’re done with the showers. He’s scrubbing at his damp hair with a towel, and Hoseok blinks away the urge to help out, to tangle his fingers in there again. “Something about food.”

“Alright, then. It’s late enough that dinner sounds good.” Hoseok shrugs his backpack on, reveling in the heat lingering in his muscles after a good workout. He and Jeongguk head outside, spotting Jimin and Taehyung loitering nearby.

“Hey guys!” Taehyung waves high over his head, already tall and making himself taller. Jimin turns to them with a grin and waves as well, but Hoseok is distracted by something white clutched in one of his hands.

Luckily, Jimin doesn’t even wait for them to ask before he brandishes the little airplane in front of them. “Hey, hey, have you guys seen this before? It’s a little paper plane! Taehyung and I found it. What do you think it is?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Jeongguk squeaks, fidgeting the moment the plane comes into view. Hoseok hops bolt upright and shouts.

“Jiminie, I keep seeing these all over Jeongguk’s building! Did you find it on the way here? Gimme, gimme!”

Jimin and Taehyung both cut him a curious glance, but acquiesce.

Or, they would have, if Jeongguk didn’t get there first. He snatches the airplane out of Jimin’s hands and darts a few steps away.

And then, inexplicably, he shoves the plane in his mouth.

“Jeongguk, ew,” Hoseok says, wrinkling his nose. “Spit that out! You don’t know where it’s been.”

“Wha’ if i’ hafs dwugs?” Jeongguk probably says, though it’s a bit hard to make out the specifics when his mouth is full of paper.

Hoseok flails. “Then why would you put it in your mouth? Get it out of there! Come on, I wanna know if it says anything.”

Jeongguk scuttles backwards a few steps, eyeing Hoseok and the cackling duo of Jimin and Taehyung, who also advance on him. He looks, just for a moment, like a cornered rabbit before he darts off. Hoseok gives chase immediately but fuck, Jeongguk is fast. Hoseok’s knee twinges concerningly, but he pushes through it in favor of following Jeongguk down the street, dodging a few passers-by.

Breathless, Hoseok careens right into Jeongguk’s solid back after a few minutes of running. He immediately latches on, his arms tight around Jeongguk’s waist. “Where’d you put it?”

Jeongguk laughs, mouth empty and wide open. Hoseok tilts them back and forth in an awkward waddle, unwilling to let go. “I dropped it in the trash can like two blocks back,” Jeongguk admits. “You were so caught up in catching me that I don’t think you even noticed.”

Hoseok definitely hadn’t. Sighing in discontent, he hops onto Jeongguk’s back, secure in the knowledge that Jeongguk will catch and carry him and he’s absolutely right. Jeongguk’s hands span the underside of Hoseok’s thighs. “Fine, I guess. Come on, let’s find Jimin and Taehyung then. I think there are some good restaurants in the area, since we’ve come out this far.”

“Why did you want it so badly?” Jeongguk asks, his voice small. “It’s just a paper airplane.”

“Mm. I’m curious about them, though. I see them all the time.” Hoseok pats Jeongguk’s head. “Don’t worry your pretty little face about it.”

Jeongguk grins at him. They find Jimin and Taehyung in relatively close order and head towards one of the many restaurants in the area, the boys arguing raucously over what to eat, Hoseok sliding off Jeongguk’s back.

As they pass the corner, a scrap of paper catches Hoseok’s eyes. It’s not the one he lost to Jeongguk earlier, still folded into an airplane, but no one else seems to have noticed it. He lags behind for a second, just long enough to scoop the folded piece of paper up. Unfolding it carefully, a smile crosses his lips at the now-familiar writing.

“I noticed the freckle by your mouth three times today and that was three times more that I wanted to kiss you.”

Hoseok touches his fingers to the freckle on his own lip and can’t help but smile, something giddy and a little wonderful fizzing beneath his skin. He pockets the note and hurries to catch up, slinging an arm around Jeongguk and Taehyung’s shoulders, letting the feeling carry him forward and up through the night.

Face first on his bed, Hoseok wishes he had even an ounce of energy left to do anything at all.

It’s been a long week, the culmination of practice and work wearing him down. The most he feels capable of, here in the silence of his apartment with Yoongi nowhere near to pester or dote on him, is laying with the ache that lives inside his bones. Exhaustion weighs down his limbs. Practice has been especially rough recently, the drive up to a performance as brutal as ever, and Hoseok feels every bit of it in the tightness of his shoulders and the stutter of his heart. Hoseok’s eyelids flutter once, twice. Get heavier and heavier. It wouldn’t be so bad to just…

His phone buzzes beside him.

Groaning, Hoseok wiggles one arm free and grabs the phone, bringing the message (a short, sweet “Hey hyung, we’re hosting dinner! Come over or I’ll cry >3<” from Jimin) up. His stomach grumbles at the reminder of food. He doesn’t have anything here that’s ready to eat.

On one hand, he could keep laying on his bed feeling sorry for himself. On the other hand, Hoseok’s guaranteed good food and better company if he goes over, which is a welcome alternative to hurting all night alone or mooning over love letters that no one is actually leaving him. All he has to do is get up and bear the journey over to Jimin’s. It’s only a twenty minute bike ride and he might even be able to wheedle his way onto the couch, which will do his back no favors but will do his heart plenty. Or he could get Yoongi to drive him home, assuming his roommate doesn’t go home with Seokjin for the night as usual.

His phone buzzes again.

JK~
hobi-hyung
are you coming to dinner? I haven’t gotten to see you all week

Well, when it’s put that way.

Hobi~
ahh jyay-kay~!! It’s ok 2 say u missed me ❀◝ (⁰ ▿ ⁰ ) ◜ ❀
dw hyung is on his way!

Peeling himself out of bed, Hoseok groans and lets himself fully feel the whole body ache that digs deep in every muscle for a short count of three breaths. In, one, two, three, and his feet feel like knives are shoved through the soles of his feet, his bones brittle and liable to snap. A hollow ache has settled into his knee, making every step feel somehow unsteady and wrong, assuming he can bear enough weight on his hips to take a step to begin with. Out, one, two, three, and Hoseok packs it all away. He’ll walk a little slower, make sure not to favor his knee too much so he doesn’t overwork the other one. The bike will hurt but it might help to move his legs some more. Work out the lactic acid buildup. All he has to do is last a little longer.

With that pep talk, Hoseok nods to himself firmly, settles a cap on his head with a delighted little noise that’s only fifty percent show, and heads out.

(As he’s walking his bike out to the street, he gets a simple smiley face from Jeongguk, and a pleased thrum settles between Hoseok’s ribs. He sends back a slew of hearts and other emojis before locking his phone and spending the rest of the journey staring determinedly ahead and pretending the ride isn’t jostling his bones too much.)

As soon as Taehyung lets him into the apartment he shares with Jimin, Hoseok claims a spot on the couch, sinking in with a grateful sigh. It’s such an understated relief to be off his feet finally. The ride over had taken more out of him than he thought it would and Hoseok bites back a wince as his muscles slowly relax, throbbing with every beat of his heart.

“You alright?” Jimin asks, piercing gaze even while he’s trying to gently coax Namjoon to sit between his legs.

“Just fine. Practice and lessons today ran a little long is all.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’ll pass.”

The couch dips beside him, and Hoseok’s senses are flooded with warmth and the clean smell of Jeongguk’s detergent as Jeongguk leans up against him. A warm hand wraps around Hoseok’s thigh. Hoseok stifles a groan, eyes closing as Jeongguk presses in with his thumb, rubbing the aching muscles in tight circles. It helps, god does it ever help, the pressure hitting him just right to work the knot out with every pass of Jeongguk’s thumb, and Hoseok shifts, spreading his legs for Jeongguk to reach easier. He hears the rasp of an unsteady inhale before Jeongguk scoots closer, digs a little harder. Hoseok resists the urge to squirm, a shiver working its way through his body, little lightning tendrils of intent.

“You’re pretty tense, Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok opens his heavy eyes and scrounges up a smile for Jeongguk’s starry gaze, wanting to soothe the hint of worry present in its depths. “It was a really long day. I thought you said there would be food?”

This last part was directed at Jimin, who was busy making upside down faces at Namjoon and kissing his forehead between each one while Taehyung looked on.

“It’s on its way! Seokjin and Yoongi said they would pick up our usual takeout order on their way over here and Yoongi said they were at the restaurant a few minutes ago. Jeongguk made sure we ordered your favorite.” Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically, teasing, and squawks when Jeongguk jabs a socked foot into his side.

“Ahh, Jeonggukie, always looking after hyung,” Hoseok coos, tugging Jeongguk back against him. His hand doesn’t quite wrap all the way around Jeongguk’s wrist, and Hoseok takes advantage of Jeongguk’s surprise to wrap himself around Jeongguk like a koala. He frowns, grabbing his wrists. Seems like Hoseok doesn’t quite fit all the way around Jeongguk either, at least not at the shoulders. Still, he says, “That’s why you’re my baby.”

Jeongguk, halfway to a smile from the way Hoseok holds him, frowns.

“See, Taetae, this is exactly my point,” says Jimin, pointing insistently. “Jeongguk is absolutely Hobi-hyung’s favorite.”

“But you’re the best! How am I supposed to believe that anyone wouldn’t make you their favorite?” Taehyung whines.

“You’re my favorite, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon says, and Jeongguk’s head whips around, eyes wide.

“Hyung,” he whines. “Hyung, I thought you said we didn’t play favorites. We’re all friends here.”

Namjoon flushes from his place between Jimin’s legs. Hoseok doesn’t blame him. They’re impressive legs to be between, and a lethal combination when paired with the way Jimin has been carding his hands through Namjoon’s hair and squeezing him just a little all night. “Jeongguk,” Namjoon says, pained, “I know we’ve talked about this before-“

“Don’t get jealous just because Namjoonie and I are dating, Jeongguk,” Jimin says, examining his nails. “You took my favorite hyung from me, so I get this one.”

Hoseok is oddly touched. “Aw, Jimin. I was your favorite?”

“Until Namjoon, yes.” Jimin smiles down at Namjoon, and his face softens from its teasing sharpness to something tender and genuine before he leans down and kisses Namjoon on the forehead. “Love you, Joonie-hyung.”

“Love you too, Jiminie. And as I was saying, I’m not playing favorites.” He flashes a dimpled smile at Jeongguk. “Boyfriends get different rights.”

Jeongguk huffs, but the way he smiles as he ducks his head belies any seriousness. His hand tightens around Hoseok’s knee. Hoseok groans, and Jeongguk’s gaze flicks back to him, wide and dark.

“Hey, I’m not a baby, you know,” Jeongguk says.

The buzzer rings then and Taehyung is up before anyone else. Yoongi and Seokjin enter the apartment to the smell of food and grateful cries. Jeongguk, however, doesn’t shift at all, still holding on, still watching Hoseok with intent. Hoseok’s mouth feels weirdly dry. “Gguk-ah?”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Here, let me help,” Taehyung says as Seokjin moves past him.

“Ah, Taehyung-ah, be careful.”

Taehyung smiles at Yoongi, big and boxy. “Don’t worry, hyung, I’ve got it. Let me help.”

Hoseok, half-distracted by the arrival of food and the influx of noise, pats Jeongguk’s hand. “I know you’re not, baby. But you don’t have to be a kid to be my baby, okay?”

Jeongguk subsides at that, something warm and pleased crossing his face. “Okay, baby,” he teases back, and squeezes Hoseok’s knee just a little harder.

Across the room, Yoongi looks after Taehyung with an aching fondness writ clear across his face as Taehyung takes the bags from Yoongi’s arms, freeing him up to shed his jacket and shoes. Seokjin is already clattering about in their kitchen, fetching drinks and utensils as Taehyung distributes food. A seed of worry wiggles its way into the nest of Hoseok’s heart, but it evaporates when Seokjin steps out of the kitchen, looks at Yoongi who’s watching Taehyung, and does nothing but smile. He knows then. He sees the quiet way Yoongi opens his heart, and Hoseok can breathe a little easier when he notices that Seokjin’s expression has the same softness to it when he looks at Taehyung too. Later, he promises himself, he’ll talk to Yoongi about it later.

For now, he makes grabby hands at his food and settles in, content enough to be surrounded by friends. Jeongguk’s hand cups his knee the entire night, warm and aching, the drag of his palm filling some of the hollow feeling in the joint, and at no point does Hoseok consider asking him to let go.

Intruder alert, Yoongi texts out of nowhere while Hoseok is finishing up the last of his classes.

Hoseok gets no response to his string of question marks, but really, it isn’t all that much of a question. There are precious few people that Yoongi allows into their apartment, so it’s mostly a matter of process of elimination. He wouldn’t give him a head’s up for Taehyung, who practically lives in Yoongi’s lap when he can, or Jimin, who is found near Taehyung frequently enough that it isn’t surprising for them to be together. It could be Namjoon, if Namjoon is having another lyric crisis, or Jin, if Jin has taken over their kitchen again in the name of doing his boyfriendly duties (and making eyes at Taehyung while he’s at it). A ridiculous notion, honestly, since Yoongi can cook well enough for the both of them and Hoseok is learning, damn it.

It could be Jeongguk. Yoongi has a soft spot for Jeongguk the way most people have soft spots for babies and small animals.

Hoseok tucks his face into the collar of his coat, bracing against the chill wind as he makes his way home. About halfway there, his phone chimes with another message.

Suga-hyung
your bed’s been annexed

Hoseok immediately knows exactly who Yoongi is talking about, and he muffles a chuckle in the fabric around his mouth, grinning as he fumbles his reply with numb fingers.

Seokseok-ah
did you even try to stop him lol

Suga-hyung
rude
implying I didn’t fight for your bed’s honor

Seokseok-ah
kkkkkkkkkkkk so no

Suga-hyung
no
but in my defense
you know what his face looks like
what was I supposed to do?
not tell him to take a nap?

Seokseok-ah
that would be cruel
but I’m just gonna say
the couch exists for a reason hyung

Suga-hyung
if I had let him sleep on the couch
which I wouldn’t, mind you
you would have just asked me “hyung why didn’t you let him sleep in my bed?” the moment you got here

Seokseok-ah
this is blasphemy and I don’t need this

Suga-hyung
that’s a funny way to type “yes hyung you’re so right hyung thank you so much for making sure our sweet maknae whom I dote on gets sleep in a bed and doesn’t lock up his muscles hyung”
or maybe that’s the problem?
sorry seokseok-ah
hyung didn’t realize you were angling to massage him tonight

Seokseok-ah
>:( hyung!
just for that I’m not getting you any coffee

Suga-hyung
wait Hoseok
Hoseok-ah
seokseok-ah please :(
hyung needs his caffeine :( :( :(
seokseok

Hoseok leaves him on read but makes sure to order two Americanos when he passes the coffee shop on his way back, ignoring the insistent buzzing of his phone.

Their apartment is a simple walk-up, a small place situated a couple of train stations down from Hoseok’s dance studio and closer to the entertainment company Yoongi produces for. Hoseok’s hands are numb by the time he gets there, making him fumble as he tries to type in the passcode for entry. After a couple of attempts, he manages to unlock the door and elbows it open, cradling his precious caffeine cargo against his chest.

“If you want this Americano, hyung, you had better start apologizing now,” Hoseok calls as soon as he gets inside, tugging his shoes off in the entryway.

A slight shuffle announces Yoongi’s presence, the older man poking his head out around the kitchen door. “What ever happened to respecting your elders, hm? Hyung was only teasing, Seokseok-ah, you know that.”

“That was a pitiful apology, but since you were just teasing… this is for you, not that you really deserve it.” Hoseok deposits the Americano in Yoongi’s already waiting hands

Content, Yoongi takes a sip, his eyes half-closing with pleasure. “The menace is in your room. Does jajangmyeon sound good? I can come get you when it’s ready.”

Hoseok’s stomach grumbles and he grins sheepishly at Yoongi’s frown. So sure, he may not have gotten something to eat before practice. He’s clearly ensuring he has plenty of room for the delicious food Yoongi’s making, that’s all. He wanders over for a sniff, leaning his weight against a protesting Yoongi. “Sounds great, honestly. Hyung looks after me so well~.”

Yoongi waves him off, putting up with Hoseok’s soft screeching and friendly hands patting at him with ill-disguised humor. The pout Yoongi sports is a poor mask for how much he enjoys the fussing. “Yah, just go and deal with our third roommate.”

“You know that all you would’ve had to do is tell him to help if you needed it,” Hoseok says, stalling long enough to snag a tender piece of vegetable, shoving it into his mouth.

Yoongi slaps at his hands. “Who said anything about me needing help? Shoo. Get out of my kitchen, you’re as bad as Jin-hyung.”

Thusly chastised, Hoseok retreats to his room. He closes his door gently behind him before he turns to view the small space. It’s neat, Hoseok’s tendency towards tidiness is stricter here than it is in the rest of the apartment, but his carefully made sheets have been disturbed.

He is unsurprised to find one Jeon Jeongguk-sized lump of blankets curled up in his bed.

With a sigh, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Figures as much. There’s a tuft of dark hair, curling just slightly at the tips, poking out of one of the crevices, and Hoseok lowers himself onto an unoccupied corner of the bed before he pulls the blanket down. A sweetly sleepy Jeongguk blinks up at him, pink-flushed from sleep and squinting the way he always does when he’s woken up. Hoseok’s smile grows, helpless and fond. Nudging Jeongguk, Hoseok says, “Yah, Jeonggukie, you had better have washed up before you climbed into my bed.”

“I did, hyung,” is probably what Jeongguk answers, his words mumbled and distorted by the way his cheek presses into the pillow. Then clearer, hopeful, “Cuddle?”

He should say no. Dinner is almost ready and Yoongi will come get them up in no time. Yet the idea of nosing up next to Jeongguk is too appealing to pass up, the desire to be near hooking and tugging softly within his stomach. Hoseok swipes a hand through Jeongguk’s dark hair. “At least let me change first.”

“Mmkay, Hobi-hyung. Hurry though.” Jeongguk yawns, pressing his face up towards Hoseok’s palm, seeking and affectionate. “S’gonna be cold.”

God.

Hoseok’s heart clenches and he resists the urge to coo, to ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, to see him so pink and pressing into Hoseok’s touch with a hot clench in his stomach. He shakes his head, retracting his hand. Jeongguk grumbles.

Choking back all of his noises about how fucking cute Jeongguk is carries Hoseok through changing his clothes. Jeongguk is curled tightly on his side facing the main area of the room, so Hoseok clambers in between him and the wall, lifting the blankets and fitting knees to knees and lean thigh to Jeongguk’s thicker muscles, burying his nose against the knob of Jeongguk’s spine. Flopping an arm across his waist, Hoseok flaps a little as he searches for something to hold onto. Warm fingers wrap around his wrist, tighten, then slide upwards, parting Hoseok’s fingers and slotting neatly between them.

Jeongguk brings Hoseok’s freshly captive hand to his chin, tucks it below as a trophy. “Got you.”

“You do,” Hoseok says. He shifts to get his arm beneath Jeongguk’s head where it won’t go numb as easy, and lets himself lean harder against the steady frame in front of him, letting all the stress of the day melt off. “You do.”

In the silence that stretches and grows there, Hoseok hears only a few things. The rush of Jeongguk’s breath moving through his strong lungs. The heavy cadence of his heart. The quiet ticking from Hoseok’s wristwatch, caught as it is against the hollow of Jeongguk’s throat. Tick, tick. Steady as anything. Jeongguk’s heartbeat and breathing slowly begin to align with the mechanical noise, and Hoseok’s aligns with Jeongguk’s. Hoseok never really slips over that liquid edge of sleep, but a knock at the door rouses him and he has to pull his consciousness back into focus, breaking the sticky, time-drunk meniscus of Hoseok’s semi-nap-state.

Tick, tick.

“Yeah?” Hoseok’s voice rasps, and the door clicks open.

From his vantage point at the door, Yoongi looks between Hoseok and Jeongguk pointedly, lingering on Hoseok’s hand beneath Jeongguk’s chin. Hoseok wiggles, glad that the blanket hides how his ankle has wound up trapped between Jeongguk’s calves, and then embarrassed that he’s glad about that. Before he can even really think about saying anything, Yoongi sighs. “Five minutes,” he says. “I will give you five minutes before I turn on the hose.”

“Thanks, hyung, you’re the best,” Hoseok coos, watching with delight as Yoongi’s face scrunches up with faux-displeasure. He flips Hoseok off, turning it into a shy finger heart and immediately disappearing beyond the doorframe before Hoseok can call him on it.

“S’that Yoongi-hyung?” Jeongguk mumbles. “Wha’s he want?”

Hoseok unpeels himself from Jeongguk’s back, shivering as all the cold air rushes into every spot still warm from cuddling. “He made dinner, Gguk-ah,” Hoseok says, rubbing Jeongguk’s shoulder. “For both of us.”

“Nice.” Jeongguk sits up, his hair sticking out every which way, and Hoseok ignores the squeeze in his chest as his hand migrates upwards to scrub through Jeongguk’s hair.

“Ah, this kid,” he says, then says again when Jeongguk’s face wrinkles, when his mouth curves up into a starry, pleased grin with his eyes creased fully shut, squinting even against the dim light of the room, when his hand curls around the soft back of Hoseok’s knee and holds him there. Hoseok’s gaze catches on the freckle beneath his lip. Hoseok’s breath doesn’t stutter. His heart doesn’t skip a beat. He doesn’t feel caught and curled up and cradled as Jeongguk rubs his knee, working away the phantom pain that still lingers.

Jeongguk smiles at him, tilts his face into Hoseok’s palm. “Hi.”

Mouth inexplicably dry, Hoseok ruffles his hair again and then starts pushing on his shoulder. “Hi, yourself.”

“Your watch makes a really nice noise, y’know. Nice and calming.” Jeongguk stifles a yawn and finally opens his eyes, a pitiful little squint that makes Hoseok want to bury him back in blankets and pet him until he falls asleep again. “That was the quickest I’ve fallen asleep in weeks.”

“Aw, baby, are you not sleeping well?”

Jeongguk shakes his head with another jaw-cracking yawn. Frowning, Hoseok thumbs the soft skin under Jeongguk’s eyes before nudging him again. “Come on, Jeongguk! Time for food. Come on, come on.”

“I’m up already!”

Hoseok manages to chivvy Jeongguk out of the room and to the table, piled high with side dishes already as Yoongi maneuvers the last of the jajangmyeon out of the kitchen. Jeongguk springs into action, taking the hot plate from Yoongi and elbowing him out of the way. Hoseok watches him fondly, still sleep-mussed, a crease plain and pink on Jeongguk’s cheek. At the table, Jeongguk turns a blinding smile on him, and Hoseok feels his body tense with excited, reciprocal joy as they start talking. Just like normal.

Yoongi levels him another knowing look, but Hoseok, as ever, waves it off. It’s him and Jeongguk, that’s all. It’s Jeongguk crawling into Hoseok’s bed even when he isn’t here and Hoseok stealing moments to hold him. Hoseok would do the same if it was Jimin or Taehyung, he tells himself. He would do the same.

When Jeongguk starts yawning, Hoseok doesn’t think anything of it. By the third jaw-cracking yawn, though, Hoseok leans across the table, nudging Jeongguk with his hand. “Still tired, baby?”

“I should go,” Jeongguk says with another yawn, but he doesn’t get out of his chair.

“You’ve already fallen asleep here once today,” Hoseok’s mouth says without input from his brain. “Might as well stick around and stay over. I don’t mind.”

Jeongguk’s smile unfurls like a flower, delight radiating from every curve. “You sure? Your bed is so much more comfortable than the ones in the dorms.”

“I’m sure it is,” says Hoseok, who knows that every theoretical intention he had of making Jeongguk sleep on the couch is now null and void. He pointedly avoids Yoongi’s eyes. “Those beds were awful. You’re lucky your hyungs let you stay over as much as we do.”

“I am. Dibs first shower.”

Hoseok waves him off. “Shoo, shoo. If you need pajamas, mine are in the top drawer still.”

Jeongguk shouts his thanks and takes off, thumping down the hallway, and it’s… fine, isn’t it? It’s just fine, Hoseok tells himself as he scrubs the dishes. Nothing at all to worry about.

He can feel Yoongi’s stare like a physical weight.

Hoseok washes up after Jeongguk and returns to find Jeongguk curled up sweetly in his bed all over again, already asleep. His breaths rasp softly in the still air, and Hoseok doesn’t wake him up as he curls around Jeongguk. He’s solid and warm and even though he’s broader than Hoseok is these days, Jeongguk still seems so small when Hoseok gets his arms around him like this.

A shadow crosses the doorway. Hoseok looks up.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoongi murmurs, quieting when he sees the way Hoseok’s mouth presses into a thin line. “If you ever want to talk about it…”

“There’s nothing to talk about, hyung,” says Hoseok. He runs a hand through Jeongguk’s hair, twisting the heavy curls there through his fingers. “But if there ever is, I’ll remember that.”

Yoongi is quiet, a shadow in the doorway, thrown into profile by the light streaming behind him before he shakes his head, mint hair going everywhere. “Alright, Seokseok-ah. Just remember. Hyung is here for you.”

There’s nothing to talk about, Hoseok thinks again, Yoongi’s footsteps fading down the hallway. He hears the door close. The soft huff of Jeongguk’s breaths fill up the rest of the empty space, and then, distantly, a ticking sound. On the barest edge of being audible. A quick peek doesn’t show his watch on the nightstand, and-

Ah.

Hoseok leans over Jeongguk, his chest resting on Jeongguk’s solid shoulder. Sure enough, tucked beneath his chin is a leather strap, disappearing beneath the curve of Jeongguk’s jaw. Hoseok’s watch, right where Jeongguk can hear it best.

“What am I going to do with you,” he wonders aloud, and it isn’t a question. It can’t be, not when Hoseok has already wormed his way beneath the covers and slotted his body against Jeongguk’s and finds that they fit so, so well together.

What is he going to do?

Here’s a fact that Hoseok doesn’t, hasn’t, can’t tell anyone: He’s tired.

He’s so fucking tired. He hasn’t admitted it to anyone except himself, but all the work he’s doing wears him down like a grindstone, burning through skin to the bone underneath and grinding straight through that too. Hoseok doesn’t know how to do anything except throw himself at problems time and time again until something breaks. His legs jitter constantly when he sits down, humming with anxious movement. The hollow feeling in his knee increases. It clicks when he walks. When he stands in the morning, he has to take care to do it with his hands braced against something sturdy just in case the joint can’t bear his weight.

A break would help. Time off would help, and Hoseok knows this. Hell, he preaches this day in and day out to every other dancer. That they should get rest and treat their body kindly whenever it starts to hurt like this. But he doesn’t have time to take off, has a million things to do day in and day out, pushing his bike up and down the streets until he’d rather cry than stand again.

(Finding little notes, though, Hoseok thinks, flipping through his newest captures, their edges not yet soft and well worn.

“A poem I read the other day said: “I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.” I thought of you.”

Those help.)

It’s only a matter of time, of course, before Hoseok’s knee gives out in front of everyone.

Just his luck, it happens to be one of the rare times Jimin and Jeongguk come to visit during dance practice.

He executes a spin, the turn twisting a little heavy on his knee, and Hoseok has just enough time to think “oh, it shouldn’t feel like that” before he drops. It doesn’t hurt. Not exactly. His shins throb more with his impact with the floor, the breath knocked out of him, but there is a pervasive feeling of wrongness that lingers as Hoseok pushes himself onto shaky arms. Hands grasp at his elbow, his shoulder, helping turn him over. Hoseok allows them for as long as he can bear before swatting them off, anxiety buzzing through him like electricity through a live wire.

“Hyung?” That’s Jimin, kneeling in front of him. His hands flutter around Hoseok’s leg like dragonflies, too uncertain to land. His full mouth is drawn into an uncharacteristically tight line. “Hyung, are you… where does it hurt?”

A shadow settles by Hoseok’s side, and Hoseok doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Jeongguk. Doesn’t look up at all actually because seeing Jeongguk’s big deer eyes sounds like the worst fate in the world right now. “Your knee’s been bothering you,” he says, soft but impactful in the gap between harried calls for a doctor by the other dance crewmembers. “I thought you were resting it.”

Jeongguk cups the joint again, palm hot and huge around the negative space that Hoseok firmly isn’t thinking about, and Hoseok hisses a little at the pressure. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the medic on staff at the dance center shoos everyone away.

His knee is pronounced a mild but irritating sprain. He’s ordered home, to not come back to dance for two weeks, and to baby the ever-loving shit out of his knee. All of it is news that Hoseok takes with ill grace, embarrassment finally seeping through the cracks of his shock. Now he just has to get home.

Hoseok thinks about the bike outside and closes his eyes. The doctor definitely didn’t mean for him to walk half an hour or more, and as he tests his knee with gentle movements, Hoseok’s not even sure he could make it. A Kakaotaxi is an option, but would stretch his already thin budget even thinner.

“Hobi-hyung?”

“Hey, Jeongguk,” says Hoseok, a smile appearing on his lips without a second thought. No thoughts, just smiling, the remnants of a shattered mask pulling into place. It’s second nature, but he can see the way Jeongguk searches his face, the hint of disapproval resting in the notch between his brows. “You aren’t getting back to watch practice?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I want to make sure you get home safe. I know you rode your bike in.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I was just-“ going to walk, he doesn’t say. Jeongguk makes a face like he hears it anyway.

“If you need help, I can carry you home.”

“Carry me?” Hoseok laughs, high and bright. “No, no, that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? I’ll just-“

“I’ll carry you,” Jeongguk says stubbornly, and Hoseok sighs, tired already from seeing this fight he won’t win and acquiescing.

“Alright, fine. You can carry me home, if it’ll make you feel better. But it’s just a little strain, it’ll-“

He doesn’t get anything else out. Hoseok squeaks as Jeongguk lifts him up bridal style, instinctively looping his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. Blinking wide-eyed, Hoseok squirms, sputtering.

“You wouldn’t let me walk on an injured ankle, Hobi-hyung,” says Jeongguk. “So I’m not going to let you do it either. Even if it does end up being nothing serious.”

“Don’t carry him like that, Jeongguk-ah.” Jimin supports Hoseok’s weight, transferring him out of Jeongguk’s arms. “You might jostle his knee like that. Turn around. You can piggyback him.”

“Wh-“

Hoseok barely gets his steady leg on the ground before Jeongguk is crouching expectantly in front of him, and what is he supposed to do? Tell Jeongguk “no” and then hobble the whole way home? “My bike,” he starts, turning. “How am I-“

“I’ll get Taehyungie to bring your bike home, hyung,” Jimin says firmly, hands steady on Hoseok’s hips. “Get on Jeongguk and let him carry you.”

Jeongguk wiggles his fingers.

Realizing that fighting is worthless, Hoseok gives in. He lets Jimin guide his bad leg up and hops up on his own once Jeongguk’s hands are secure beneath his thighs. There are probably more embarrassing ways to get home, but Hoseok can’t think of any right now. It isn’t until they’re out of the studio and making their way down twilit streets that Hoseok starts squirming again.

“I can just call Yoongi-hyung if you want to get back to practice.”

“Yoongi-hyung can’t carry you.”

“No, but he has a car and we can just-“

“I don’t mind carrying you,” Jeongguk interrupts. Hoseok stops fidgeting. There’s a tenseness in Jeongguk’s voice that sticks into Hoseok, clenching behind his belly. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”

Quietly, Hoseok murmurs, “Okay, then. Okay, JK.”

They fall silent and the streets pass by as Jeongguk continues his way towards Hoseok’s apartment. Without the thread of a different way home to distract him, Hoseok casts about for another way to keep his mind off the growing ache of his discomfort. People watching is right out; Hoseok can’t imagine meeting anyone’s eyes while he’s being piggybacked like a kid-

Have Jeongguk’s shoulders always been this broad?

Actually, come to think of it, Jeongguk himself is just really… remarkably built. His gym sessions with Jin-hyung must really be paying off because now that Hoseok has him all under his hands, he realizes that Jeongguk must be entirely clean bulk. Hoseok marvels at how he can feel the muscles shifting beneath his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t even falter, his steps steady and breathing easy.

Hoseok squeezes his thighs together experimentally. Wow. Solid. Nice.

“Hobi-hyung? Are you uncomfortable?”

“What?” he sputters. His hands flutter for purchase before he gives up and leans forward, grasping his own wrist in a loose circle as he tries not to think about how Jeongguk fits between his legs, an unfamiliar heat crawling up his spine. “Yeah, no, ‘m fine. Don’t worry. Just. Get me home?”

He catches a corner of Jeongguk’s devastating, crinkly smile and sucks in an unsteady breath. Jeongguk says, “You got it.”

The journey feels like it takes forever and no time at all. They have to stop once or twice to readjust when Hoseok slips a little too far down or when Jeongguk’s hand strays from the undersides of Hoseok’s thighs and towards the tender joint of his knee, but at no point does Jeongguk seem particularly winded. Hoseok leans against his back (Also firm, also solid, and jeez, Hoseok knew Jeongguk worked out but like… he really worked out, didn’t he?) and asks, “Hyung’s not too heavy, right?”

Jeongguk huffs out a laugh. Squeezes Hoseok’s thighs in a way that only ratchets the heat pooling in Hoseok’s stomach up another notch. “You’re built like a bird, hyung. I can barely remember that you’re back there.”

They’re at Hoseok’s apartment before he realizes, distracted by the heat of Jeongguk between his legs. Getting the door open is a comedy of Hoseok clutching at Jeongguk and shrieking about not getting dropped while Jeongguk ineffectually paws at him for keys without putting him down until Yoongi, sleepy-eyed and blinking slowly, opens the door and kicks them both inside. Hoseok stifles his laughter against Jeongguk’s shoulder, fingers flexing against his shoulders.

Jeongguk slowly lowers Hoseok. He slides down Jeongguk’s back with a drag that makes him shiver then flush hot when Jeongguk’s hands stay on his hips, when Jeongguk turns around and is caging him so close. Hoseok feels wound tight, strung, realizes that he’s tilted back the barest bit, his weight resting comfortably in Jeongguk’s grip as his body arches into Jeongguk. He can’t focus on one part of Jeongguk’s face. His gaze flits from Jeongguk’s eyes to his nose, to his mouth- no, not to his mouth, not to the freckle immediately underneath. Seeing that freckle just makes Hoseok think about wanting to kiss a freckle near someone’s mouth, and suddenly he understands the sentiment with a fervor previously foreign.

“Thanks,” Hoseok murmurs, voice rough. “For the lift.”

Jeongguk’s hands flex and Hoseok bites back the noise that crawls up his throat, sure to be embarrassing. “Anytime.”

Hoseok grips Jeongguk by the wrist, and pauses. Frowns. “Are you wearing my watch?”

“N…no?”

And then, Min Yoongi, by the grace of every higher power Hoseok has never believed in, breaks the weird tension growing between them, butting in physically to shore up Hoseok’s trembling body and mercifully breaking Jeongguk’s grip on him. “Hyung’s got it from here,” he grumbles. “Come on, you dumbass. Let’s get you laying down. Jeongguk-ah. Get some ice.”

They shuffle around. Hoseok finds himself laying in Yoongi’s bed instead of his own. Yoongi shooes Jeongguk off with promises to hover enough for the both of them, and Jeongguk, eyes wide and worried, eventually acquiesces, heading back to the studio to get Jimin. Yoongi also slides into bed next to Hoseok and immediately turns himself into the little spoon, scooting backwards until his butt is nestled against the crux of Hoseok’s hips and Hoseok, reflexively, rolls onto his side to cling to Yoongi.

For several long minutes, there is the low throb of pain. The steady beating of Yoongi’s heart beneath Hoseok’s palms. The numbness that spreads from the slowly melting ice that Hoseok has trapped between his knees.

“So,” Yoongi rasps when Hoseok’s eyes flutter closed. “Y’wanna talk about it? Not your knee,” he adds when Hoseok opens his mouth to deflect. “I’m talking about the look you were giving Jeongguk in the hallway, like you were two seconds away from going terrible American bodice ripper heroine on him.”

It’s so weird, the way Hoseok suddenly can’t swallow. His throat is so tight. Weird. Super weird. He coughs, turns his head into the juncture of the pillows and Yoongi’s neck. “If I said no, would you let me get away with it?”

“No, probably not.” Yoongi squeezes his wrist. “These things are important to talk about. I should know.”

Yoongi gets it, Hoseok thinks. They’ve all seen the slow shift of the way that Yoongi’s been looking at Taehyung, the way he’s always looked at Seokjin, and how pleased and wrinkly he looks when the two of them are also looking at each other. Yoongi absolutely knows the feeling that’s striking Hoseok now. The juxtaposition between what he thought he knew and what he really wants.

“It’s just,” Hoseok says, his throat tight with too many feelings to name any of them at all. “Our little Jeonggukie’s so tall now.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “We’ve raised him well.” And then Yoongi rolls over, taking care not to dislodge Hoseok’s arms from around his middle or jostle his knee, squints knowingly up at Hoseok. “But that isn’t the problem, is it?”

Hoseok swallows. Shakes his head. He feels like a cracked egg, fragile and leaking all over, the shattered shards of himself not enough to keep his heart safe. It trembles in his chest, shivers its way up until Hoseok’s eyes sting with tears and his breaths come faster, too fast. No words contain the panic. No thoughts are enough to quantify the feelings that are so deeply rooted in Hoseok now.

Fuck, he likes Jeongguk.

“Oh no, hyung,” Hoseok whispers, and Yoongi cradles the back of Hoseok’s head with a big hand, stroking very softly.

“Oh no, Seok-ah,” Yoongi mimics, just as quietly. It isn’t mocking, because Yoongi wouldn’t do that to him. Just gentle, just teasing. “Are you having a big boy emotion?”

Hoseok smacks him weakly but doesn’t mean it, hating how laughter bubbles up in his chest in the sparse gaps mortification leaves behind. “Don’t talk to me like you do Seokjinnie-hyung. I’ve had emotions before.”

“You have. You’re just as bad at him when it comes to talking about them though.” Yoongi grins. “And I don’t think you’d appreciate my usual method of getting the truth out of him the way he does.”

“Gross.”

Lazily, Yoongi flicks his shoulder. “Don’t mock my sex life. It’s not my fault Jin-hyung is more honest after I’ve-“

“I don’t need to know this!”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake with laughter, and he takes Hoseok’s squirming as an opportunity to shove his knobbly knee between Hoseok’s thighs, adding another weight keeping him to the bed. A few seconds of perfunctory struggle later, Hoseok settles down. The dimness of Yoongi’s room is familiar and comfortable, and even the weight of Yoongi’s half-lidded, considerate gaze is simple and warm as he waits for Hoseok to pull his words together.

And still, helplessly, all Hoseok can bring himself to say is, “He’s so tall now, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks with a smile. “He’s grown up a lot, hasn’t he? Kid went and got tall and attractive when we weren’t paying attention.”

“He used to be small enough to hold,” Hoseok whines. “I could just wrap myself around him and hold him and I tried it the other day and I could barely grab my own wrists! He’s gotten so big and he’s just- I can’t do this, I have to leave, I can’t ever see him again because he’ll know and he’s my baby and I can’t be-“

“Hoseok, be reasonable.”

He can feel how pushed down the corners of his mouth are, knows that his pout right now must be absolutely ridiculous, but he can’t stop himself. Petulantly, Hoseok says, “Hey I’m plenty reasonable. It’s the rest of you-”

Yoongi levels him with an even, unimpressed look, and Hoseok- well, Hoseok folds like a house of cards, burying his face against Yoongi’s shoulder and just groaning. Yoongi takes this as the capitulation it is and pats him on the head. “You’re not reasonable at all, Seokseok-ah.”

Hoseok groans again. “I’m not, am I?”

“You like him,” Yoongi says, cutting straight through to the heart of it, his voice a rumble in Hoseok’s ear. “No one is ever reasonable when they’re crushing on someone.”

And right here, in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder, where he feels safe and small and looked after, Hoseok is able to nod. Yoongi clicks his tongue and thankfully says nothing more.

“So you’ve noticed that he’s gotten bigger, hm?” Yoongi asks archly when Hoseok has peeled himself away some number of damp-eyed minutes later. “Do I need to start soliciting Jin-hyung for sweaty gym selfies with the kid then? Give you something to look at?”

Hoseok shoves at him weakly. “Get your own thirst traps! Leave my baby crush out of it!”

“Is it a baby crush because Gukkie’s your baby? Seokseok-ah, do you and hyung need to have a conversation about kinks? Consent is-“

“Hyung."

JK~
hobi-hyung
about the watch

Hobi~
ah dw about it!
I was just wondering where it had gotten itself off to
should have guessed it was with you after you slept with it that one time lol

JK~
oh
okay

Hobi~
you can keep it if you want to
looked good on you, jk

JK~
….okay

Hobi~
embarrassed baby?

JK~
no
I was born without a shame gland
I’m chemically incapable of shame

Hobi~
lol ok
keep it safe for me! I might ask for it back eventually

JK~
hey don’t steal my lullaby
need that shit to sleep
you want me to be well rested, don’t you

Hobi~
I do I do

JK~
knee?

Hobi~
better. Much better

JK~
>:(

Hobi~
yes I’m staying off it!
you’ll miss me coming over all the time hmph hmph

JK~
yeah I will

Hobi~
oh
then I’ll make sure to get better soon

JK~
good

Everything, objectively, is the same with the world around him. The sky is blue, Seoul is crowded, all of his friends are a glorious mix of nosy and loud to the point where there’s almost never not something going on, and Hoseok likes Jeongguk. Hoseok thinks about kissing Jeongguk a nonzero number of times. Nothing has changed.

“Everything has changed, Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok says into his palms because they’re the safest place to exist right now. “I feel like a completely different person. I feel insane.”

“Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon says, pained, “Being in love isn’t-“

“Ah! Who said anything about love! I like him. I maybe want to kiss his face a little bit!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned the freckle under his mouth three times already.”

“And that’s three times more I’ve wanted-“ Hoseok cuts himself off, a flash of déjà vu shivering down his spine. He waves his hands. “Not important. I’m not in love. I’m clearly just reeling because he’s gotten much buffer when I wasn’t paying attention and this is. A natural reaction to that sort of thing. We all know how I love a man with some muscle.”

Namjoon’s smile tilts a little. “You didn’t react like this when I started going to the gym with Jin-hyung.”

Patting him on the arm, Hoseok sighs. “I absolutely did have a sexual reawakening concerning you, Joonie, don’t sell yourself short. Your arms, man. Damn. But it felt. Different? Finding you hot wasn’t, like, new or anything like that.”

“Then why is it so different now?”

Hoseok winces. He does not want to get into the nitty gritty of the how’s and why’s of his attraction. Really, he doesn’t know why he’s trying to talk about it at all. It’s an impulse born from the thought that talking about his crush is exactly what he would want other people to do, so clearly he should give it a shot, right? Right, except every time Hoseok opens his mouth, he deflects. A trainwreck rushing to the surface only to never get there.

Palms, safest place to be. Hoseok digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and pretends that his breathing is completely steady and his throat isn’t tight.

Aloud, spots forming behind his eyes, he says, “I am pretty sure I am the Mariana Trench of emotions.”

Namjoon stifles a laugh beside him. A large hand pats Hoseok’s knee, warm and welcoming. “If anything, Hoseok, I think you’ll be fine. You’re a good person, and he’s a good person, and if it works out, then it works out and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. You only have to expose your terrible sea creature feelings to people if you want to.”

“This is why you’re my favorite.” Hoseok leans into Namjoon’s solid warmth, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Behind him, the front door opens. “Alright, tell me, how are things with you and Jimin?”

“We talked for four hours last night about the project he’s working on right now,” Namjoon says, voice fond and distant, and Hoseok lets it wash over him as he types out a message to Jeongguk. “He’s so talented, you know?”

Hobi~
do u think I have blobfish emotions
is a blobfish even a deep sea fish
jeongguk :( :( :(

“Ah, Namjoonie-hyung,” says an embarrassed Jimin as he comes inside. “I just got home and you’re already talking about me?”

He says this, but Hoseok already sees the pleased way Jimin holds himself, his pink cheeks and the set of his shoulders broadcasting clearly how happy he is that Namjoon is doting on him while he isn’t around. Namjoon shifts towards him, open and inviting, away from Hoseok, who whines but does it quietly.

Fine, then. If Namjoon wants to cuddle with his boyfriend instead of just inviting Jiminie to come in and cuddle with both of them the way he should have because Minnie deserves the most cuddles in the whole world and Hoseok is an excellent tactile hugger, then he gets no touch at all. Hoseok will just flop over the other arm of the couch and dig out his notepad. A small piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Namjoon tilts his head. “What’s this?”

“Oh what, this? It’s one of the little airplanes I keep finding around Jeongguk’s dorm.” Hoseok picks it up and unfolds the small paper, rereading what’s inside as Jimin takes off his shoes and comes in. “I picked it up after we hung out yesterday.”

“I like you, I like you, I like you. I like you so much. I like you beyond words, which I sometimes think is okay because you don’t prefer them anyway and it’s so easy to hold you, to be held by you. But it’s driving me crazy, this distance between your hand and heart and mine.

If I told you, would you accept?

If I told you, would you love me back?”

“I don’t see how anyone couldn’t, with notes like these,” Hoseok mutters. He passes the note back to Namjoon. He reads it once, then again, an expression Hoseok doesn’t know how to quantify on his face. “See what I mean?”

“I suppose,” Namjoon says slowly. “But really, Hobah, the question is, what are you planning on doing about it? Are you thinking about finding whoever’s writing these?”

“No? I guess not? I don’t know how I would, to begin with. The only thing I know is that they’re probably going to Jeongguk’s college because that’s where I find them. I just like the notes.”

Namjoon’s face does something complicated, and he turns to look imploringly up at Jimin, who reads the note over Namjoon’s shoulder. Jimin smiles sweetly, a laugh hidden in the curl of his sweater paws. Squinting, Hoseok tries to determine if that’s the face Jimin makes when he knows something Hoseok doesn’t. It looks awfully close.

“Ah, Hobi-hyung,” says Jimin. “If you like the notes, then you should keep them. Don’t worry about it too much. You deserve nice things.”

Hoseok’s mouth twists into a frown as his phone buzzes. “I just feel bad because they’re not supposed to be my nice things.”

Cryptically, Jimin says, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

JK~
lmao what
if anything hyung you have like
anglerfish emotions
one big light that everyone sees and then a whole bunch of teeth that no one expects
but you do your best to keep your teeth to yourself so you’re good
if we’re picking fish to be tho can I be an oarfish
those guys are big and weird looking
I am also big and weird looking and my emotions take a whole team to lift
terrible deep sea creatures together

And Hoseok stifles a laugh into the hood of his shirt, kicking his feet and thinking, “oh I like you so much, so so much,” even as all he manages to type back is “you ARE big but only weird looking if “weird” is a new synonym for “pretty” I didn’t know about. You teach hyung so much, gguk-ah.”

(Later, he looks up an oarfish and sends Jeongguk several horrified emojis before spamming him with pictures of much more appropriately adorable creatures like bunnies and deer, ignoring all of Jeongguk’s protests that they aren’t sea creatures and therefore can’t count.

Hobi~
Fine then, neither of us are deep sea creatures!
these suit you much better

JK~
hm alright
but if that’s the case, then you’re a little squirrel hyung
or a deer too
we can be deer together

Hobi~
why a deer?
and don’t do the “good eye deer” joke

JK~
.
well since you ruined that one
maybe I just wanted to match
be an adorable woodland creature with me instead

And that, Hoseok has no other response to.)

Hoseok finds more of the little airplanes, always full of poetry or short sentences, always scattered somewhere in the vicinity of Jeongguk’s building. They’re all equally sweet, little love notes creased into flights of fancy, and Hoseok has taken to seeking them out whenever he comes by, greedy for their words and the way they make his heart skip a beat.

It's nothing serious, he tells himself every time he finds himself poking his head into the alleyway as he scans the ground for slips of white paper. It’s just fun.

He finds them and keeps them to read, and if he wonders what it would be like, if someone loved him like this, if he would ever love someone like this-

(Pressed flat between his old textbooks and then stored in his desk drawer, Hoseok keeps every note. One reads:

“I lose my breath every time I look at you. You’re so handsome, it seems unreal.”

Another:

“Your hair is the softest thing in the world, and you pout at me when I stop petting it, which is great because then I can keep touching you, and terrible because I have to keep touching you but it’s not nearly enough.”

Another:

“How are we so close and still not nearly close enough? What do I have to do to stand beside you?”)

-would it be wonderful? Would it be stifling? Would Hoseok even know what to do with himself if someone looked at him that way? He doesn’t know, and the not knowing keeps him scouring the ground anytime he goes to pick up Jeongguk.

Hoseok hoards them. They aren’t for him, but he reasons that if they’re being sent into the void like they are, then they aren’t really for anyone. If he gets some measure of comfort out of them, then that’s something he can keep for himself, isn’t it?

“I hope they know,” he murmurs, turning the most recent note over and over in his hands. He’s laying on his bed, feet waving in the air, a warmth squirming in the pit of his stomach as he reads the notes and rubs the tip of his finger curiously against the freckle near his own mouth. “I really hope that whoever you’re writing these for knows how you feel about them. You’re being so sweet.”

A knock at his door breaks him out of his thoughts.

Yoongi doesn’t react to Hoseok scrambling to push the notes back into his desk because Yoongi is both inscrutable and understanding like that, only blinking placidly. He waits until Hoseok is done before he raises an eyebrow. “The kids are going to be here in a few. We’re hosting dinner tonight.”

“Oh, okay! Is there anything I need to help with?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Jin-hyung and I have got it. You still shouldn’t be up for too long on your knee.”

“It’s fine now,” Hoseok whines, wiggling out of bed to prove a point. He stifles the faintest wince when his knee twinges and knows he probably wasn’t fast enough to hide it from Yoongi’s scrutiny. “See?”

Perhaps predictably, Yoongi’s mouth twitches sideways in a frown. “I see plenty. Go sit on the couch if you want to be out, and otherwise stay out of the way.” Then he softens, because Yoongi always softens, with his tired eyes and soft mouth. “You can help with the dishes later, if you want. But for now, Seok-ah, just look after yourself.”

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch. He really doesn’t. But between the knowledge that Park Jimin will make everyone late by at least half an hour, and the quiet clattering and talking filling up the empty spaces with noise, Hoseok breathes in, and breathes out, and finds himself slipping sideways into a nap.

Hoseok wakes up to a furnace in his arms.

Smiling, he drops a soft, uncoordinated kiss to Jeongguk’s hair. “Hi, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and rasping. “Sleep good?”

“S’good,” he thinks Jeongguk says. It’s little more than a mumble, half-awake and so extremely dear. Hoseok’s arms tighten. Like he could pull Jeongguk inside himself and keep him safe that way if he only tried hard enough. Their perfect maknae. Jeongguk squirms, lifting his head. “Hyung, stop. Squishing me.”

“Alright, alright,” Hoseok soothes, petting Jeongguk’s hair. “Relax. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Jeongguk makes a pleased little noise, rubbing his nose against Hoseok’s sternum. “Okay, baby,” he breathes, and goes back to sleep, unaware of how Hoseok’s heart races. A steady ticking sound pings on Hoseok’s radar and he cocks his head this way and that to pinpoint the sound, difficult between bursts of quiet conversation from the other side of the room. Then he sees the strap of leather around Jeongguk’s wrist, tucked right beneath his chin.

“He still has your watch,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok twitches, looking up at his sleepy-eyed, amused face, feeling caught. “Thought I was imagining it, but he’s had it for close to a month now, yeah?” He grins. “The others got here while you were sleeping and the kid dove right in for a nap with you. Sorry for not waking you up. You seemed comfortable.”

“I haven’t asked for it back,” Hoseok says instead of answering any buried question Yoongi might have had in there. It works as a distraction until it doesn’t, Seokjin sidling up to press an absent kiss to the top of Yoongi’s head.

“Kid wanted something of yours to fall asleep with and wasn’t even brave enough to ask for a sweatshirt,” Yoongi mutters into his mug, leaning heavily into Seokjin’s side.

“If that’s all it is, he should’ve just taken one,” Seokjin says. His fingers trace up Yoongi’s neck and all the way down his shoulder, absent and thoughtless, his eyes fixed on Hoseok. His lips quirk up, amused. “You would have given him one the moment he said he was cold.”

“I do that for Jimin all the time,” Hoseok deflects. “The kids should never be cold!”

Seokjin waves his protest off, scoffing. “Jimin has Namjoon to ply for oversized coats now! Don’t ruin his chances at romance just because you’re too set on ruining yours. It isn’t Jimin’s fault that you have no game.”

Hoseok’s mouth drops open. “I have game!”

“Then why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Having game and dating someone are two completely different things, hyung. If I want to prove that I have game, I can just go to a club and dance for half an hour and see how many phone numbers I get. Winning hearts is more difficult than winning dicks.” He scowls, watching Seokjin pet Yoongi some more, a tight pit of jealousy seeding its way through his chest. “Not like you two would know.”

“We know that all too well, Hoseok.” Jin’s gaze lifts, fixes on Taehyung, soft and a little yearning, and Hoseok glances down to see Yoongi making the same face but with more squinting. Right. Right. “These things take time.”

Across the room, Taehyung laughs, and both Seokjin and Yoongi smile like they can’t help it. Like they never even thought to stop themselves. Hoseok bites his lip. Sighs. “You two could say something to him, you know.”

“We will.” Yoongi pats Seokjin’s hand. “When it’s time.”

“If you wait too long, one of his handsome actor friends is going to snap him up,” Hoseok grumbles.

“By that logic, why haven’t you asked-“

Jeongguk stirs.

Thankfully, Seokjin catches the movement at the same time Hoseok does, and in a moment of startling compassion, he doesn’t continue his sentence. Hoseok knows what he was going to say anyway. Yoongi has the decency to look a little embarrassed, but really, Hoseok knows that pretty much everyone is aware of his newly realized feelings for Jeongguk. He hasn’t been subtle. Hoseok feels peeled raw and open, even as he cups the back of Jeongguk’s head again.

Humming, Jeongguk leverages himself up. His biceps flex, abruptly and thoroughly distracting Hoseok from anything else, and he yawns, courteous enough to turn it towards Hoseok’s shoulder. “Is food ready?”

“Just about,” Yoongi says, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair. “Get up and help bring food to the table.”

Blinking sleepily for a few seconds, Jeongguk hums an affirmative, the rumble of it felt all the way down to Hoseok’s sternum and the slight, involuntary shift of his hips that has Jeongguk opening his eyes again. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, Hobi-hyung.”

“Just like you didn’t mean to borrow my watch?” Hoseok scratches Jeongguk’s head just to see him go a little limp, a lot trusting.

“Mm.” Hoseok has to resist the urge to grab Jeongguk when he pulls away, to drag him back down. Their apartment is always temperate, but it feels downright frigid in the absence of Jeongguk’s furnace-like heat against him. But, no. That’s Hoseok being greedy. Just because he wants things doesn’t mean he gets them.

While Hoseok stares, letting his eyes linger on the pretty curve of Jeongguk’s cupid bow, Jeongguk fusses with something near his wrist. Then presses something into Hoseok’s startled, slack hands. Deliberately, Jeongguk curls Hoseok’s fingers towards his palm.

“For safekeeping,” he murmurs. Hoseok swallows, tightens his hand around his own watch -his own watch- as his heart gives a traitorous little flutter. “I wanna borrow it again.”

“Yah,” says Hoseok. There’s absolutely no heat in his voice and he doesn’t try to follow it up with anything. His chest is a desert of words, all of them sticking like dust in his throat.

Jeongguk grins at him, starry and bright, and hops up to help bring food to the table, bickering good-naturedly with Jimin and Taehyung as he goes.

A warm hand claps down on his shoulder. Hoseok doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Seokjin. “Not a word,” he grumbles.

“Not a single one!” Seokjin agrees brightly. “I have no thoughts or opinions on the situation. Unrelatedly, looks like you’re pretty fucked, little Seok. You should probably do something about that, and who knows! Maybe it’ll end up better than you think.”

Maybe. The word curls tight in his chest, a bright glow of potential. Hoseok breathes out, fingers clenching around his watch, still warm from Jeongguk’s wrist. Maybe.

Hobi~
jaykaaaayyyy
jk
jkkkkkkkk
hey you have five minutes to get down here or I’m getting food on my own

JK~
w
ait
wait wait
im right there I promise
hangon

Hoseok pockets his phone with a snort and a shiver. The last couple of weeks have seen a sudden cold snap, the days dropping from comfortable to chilly with little to no warning, and while Hoseok loves the brisk air and the way it fills up his lungs, he definitely overestimated his ability to stay out in a light jacket. He should’ve grabbed something heavier before leaving the house, but in his defense, he was excited.

Bracing his hands on his bike, Hoseok swings his leg back and forth, testing its range of motion. Not too stiff. No weird creaking or popping. He hums with satisfaction, the knowledge that his body is recovering well settling within his skin.

“Did you seriously bike over?”

Hoseok’s head snaps up and he takes in Jeongguk, pink cheeked and panting. Out of breath from hurrying down, he pulls up the zipper on a heavy jacket, tucking his face behind the collar. The formless black coat does nothing to detract from the twist in Hoseok’s chest at the mere sight of him, a sense of twinned comfort and excitement.

Jeongguk frowns, brows drawing in. “Was that a good idea with your leg?”

“Yah, Jeongguk. See look, it’s all healed!” Hoseok shakes his leg pointedly. “Got my clean bill of health from the doctor today!”

Jeongguk’s face breaks out in Hoseok’s favorite crinkly smile. “Good! Now get off your bike. We’ll just walk wherever we’re going.”

Hoseok makes a disgruntled noise but does as he’s asked, walking next to Jeongguk. He doesn’t want to risk reinjury. His bike’s tires tick merrily away, a sweet counterpoint to Jeongguk’s bubbly voice as he talks about his day. Hoseok scans the streets, habitually looking for any sign of folded planes, and he can’t help the frown forming on his face the longer he goes without seeing one.

“What are you looking for? Did you drop something?” Jeongguk starts craning around, searching the ground intently and Hoseok has to laugh, pats him on the shoulder.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he says, digging his thumb into the tense curve of Jeongguk’s neck. “Don’t worry about it. I was just looking around. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

Jeongguk’s eyes narrow for a moment, but he lets it go. “Alright. Are noodles on the table?”

“Are noodles ever not on the table?” No new notes today, then, and Hoseok thinks nothing more of the disappointment shrouding him. Next time maybe, he tells himself. Next time.

Once they’ve stuffed themselves full of noodles and Hoseok has successfully dug his elbow into Jeongguk’s sensitive sides enough to chide him away from even attempting to pay, Jeongguk insists on walking Hoseok home. He says it’s to keep an eye on him and make sure that he isn’t riding his bike more than necessary, and Hoseok, who had indeed been planning to do just that, caves faster than he should. Greedy, he thinks, as always. Greedy for Jeongguk’s undivided attention and time.

He doesn’t feel as bad about it as he should.

They end up stalling outside of Hoseok’s apartment, too busy talking to stop even though they keep saying goodbye. Hoseok says, “I should go up,” as he’s chaining up his bike, and Jeongguk says, “Yeah,” and then keeps talking. Jeongguk says, “Ah, it’s cold out here. I should head home,” and Hoseok says, “You should. Stay safe,” but can’t stop talking about the show they’re watching together, the dance they worked on, Jeongguk’s classes, Hoseok’s job at the studio.

Hoseok’s phone goes off. They both fall silent to look at it, startled.

Suga-hyung
hey dumbass get inside I can see you shivering from in here
if you want to keep talking to him just bring him too
I’m heating up water for tea right now

Hoseok coughs, a laugh buried in there somewhere. “Sorry, that’s hyung. He says we should stop loitering and come inside already.”

“He makes some points. Hey,” Jeongguk says, and Hoseok’s heart kicks up a notch. He watches Jeongguk’s tongue dart out to brush over his lip, pink and slick. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t been sleeping all that well recently, y’know. So maybe. I could borrow your watch again?”

Hoseok breathes out. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on up? I can get it for you.”

Suga-hyung
also I think I need your moral support
tell me I’m not going to screw everything up
but like
do it while you’re holding my hand for two (2) seconds please

Hoseok’s eyebrow raises. He shows the messages to Jeongguk, shares a puzzled glance with him, and they head up to Hoseok’s apartment.

The first thing he spots is Taehyung and Seokjin sitting together on the couch, and several things fall into place.

“You head on back to my room,” Hoseok says lowly, shrugging off his light coat and shoes, eyes fixed on Taehyung’s dark head of hair, bent so close to Seokjin’s golden one. They’re speaking quietly enough that Hoseok can make out none of what they’re saying, but the wondering, open way Seokjin keeps staring at Taehyung is clear no matter the contents of their discussion. “I’ll be right there.”

Jeongguk hums in agreement. Hoseok hears him greet the other two as he turns towards the kitchen.

Yoongi is fussing with the water heater and a pair of mugs in front of it. His fists are clenched tightly, knuckles blanched, and his breathing is hitching as he very visibly attempts to get himself under control. Bypassing the requested handhold altogether, Hoseok wraps himself around Yoongi with a gentle sound, hooking his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi’s frame trembles as he sags back into Hoseok’s hold.

They sway side to side for a moment. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s wrists, then taps at his fingers. One, two three, four, from the index to his pinky finger. Once, then again in the same pattern until Yoongi’s hands relax. He turns them over to tap back at Hoseok’s. One, two, three, four. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three, four. They pass the rhythm between them until Yoongi’s shoulders lose their sharp edges, his quivering tamped back down to something manageable.

“So it’s time for the big talk?” Hoseok murmurs.

This close, he can hear the way Yoongi’s throat clicks dryly as he swallows before answering, “Yeah. Jin-hyung and I have talked and. I think it’s finally time.” His grip tightens around Hoseok’s hand. “What if it goes poorly?”

Hoseok hums. “Then it goes poorly. Things will be awkward for a little bit. You’ll need to let Seokjinnie-hyung take care of you and take care of him in return because you’ll both be hurting. But you’ll be okay. It’ll suck, but you’ll be alright.” He squeezes Yoongi. “But if it goes well, then you both get to kiss him.”

That makes Yoongi’s breath hitch and Hoseok muffles a chuckle against his shoulder. Pressing a quick kiss to the side of Yoongi’s head, he extracts himself and picks up the mugs of tea.

“Be brave, hyung. It’ll be alright.”

“Yah, keep your courage for yourself,” Yoongi mutters, scratching at the back of his head as he squares his shoulders. “Don’t think I didn’t see Jeongguk heading towards your room.”

“He wants to borrow the watch, that’s all!” Hoseok protests weakly, already heading out because he doesn’t need Yoongi making him wonder what if now. What if, what if, he thinks as he smiles at Jin and Taehyung, their knees knocking together on the couch as Taehyung stares at Seokjin like he’s the most important person in the world. The picture of adoration. What if, what if, he thinks as he turns down towards his room and hears Yoongi join them, as he nudges his door open with his foot, careful not to spill any of the tea. What if.

What if he offered more than just the watch?

“Hey, JK, I think it’s finally happening,” Hoseok starts, setting the tea mugs down on the little table beside the door, closing it behind him to give the others some privacy.

Only, when he turns around, Jeongguk has something in his hands.

Many somethings, Hoseok realizes with a lurch. The top drawer of his desk is open, and Hoseok can see the lid of the box he keeps the airplanes in, askew because Jeongguk has so many notes in his hands, crumpling them. His eyes are wide. Hoseok’s breath comes in sharp. He feels- oddly caught out, exposed, and he storms over, shutting the drawer and the box inside abruptly. The notes in Jeongguk’s hands he almost grabs, but falters at the last moment.

Falters, at the sight of Jeongguk’s bloodless face, shaking hands.

Hoseok’s fingers flex midair. “What are you doing?”

“I was looking-“ Jeongguk shakes his head, blinks. He’s breathing so quickly, his chest almost heaving. Hoseok reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, but hesitates again. “Your watch. I wanted to borrow it again, but. I found these.”

“Ah, yeah, the notes.” For some reason he can’t place, Hoseok feels almost guilty. Like he’s been caught doing something wrong. “I know I said I wasn’t picking them up, but. I’ve found a few.”

“And kept them.”

Hoseok nods. “And kept some.”

“How… how many of them do you have?” Jeongguk asks.

Hoseok hums, counting idly on his fingers more as something to do than any real counting, the tone of Jeongguk’s voice raising the hair on his arms. Something isn’t quite right here, and the awareness of it tingles down Hoseok’s spine, the knowledge of a threat not yet visible. “Well, like… Every one I’ve found so far, really. I don’t think I have all of them, but I have at least forty or mor- Jeongguk-ah? Jeongguk-ah, what’s that face for?”

“So many?”

Jeongguk sounds horrified.

Or, no, that’s not quite it, Hoseok realizes as his perspective shifts a little. The magic-eye trick of empathy. Jeongguk sounds, and looks, mortified. Embarrassed beyond all belief, a pretty red flush over his cheeks, trembling in the curve of his lower lip.

Hoseok swallows. Reaches out to ground him, to offer a focus for all this embarrassment, and doesn’t know what to do when Jeongguk actually flinches from his touch. “Jeongguk?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Know what? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Hobi-hyung! You have all the notes, you read them even when you promised you wouldn’t- You weren’t-!” Jeongguk cuts himself off with a gasp, a desperate inhale of air that’s nearly a sob. His eyes are everywhere, darting between Hoseok’s hands, the pile of letters, his own hands, everywhere but Hoseok’s face. “You weren’t supposed to know, and now you’re just, what, pretending you didn’t notice? Is this funny to you?”

Hoseok can feel his mouth tick to the side, knows he’s going flat and dangerous, a spark of irritation flaring. “No, Jeongguk, nothing about this is funny to me. None of this is a joke. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I-“ Jeongguk drags his hands through his hair, paces the floor agitatedly a few steps back and forth. “I have to go. I can’t be here, I can’t-“

“Jeongguk-ah, don’t just- Just tell me what’s wrong!” And Hoseok grabs Jeongguk by the wrist as he storms past, the momentum spinning them and he sees-

Tears.

Glistening in Jeongguk’s eyes, and now starting, slowly, to make their way down his face as well. Jeongguk lifts one hand to hide them ineffectually, pressing the back of his wrist to his reddening cheeks, and-

It’s entirely possible, Hoseok realizes, that he’s missed something monumental here.

“You know who wrote the letters,” says Hoseok, voice coming as though from a distance, barely audible over the way his own heart beats. “You know.”

He feels so dizzy. All of his anger recedes the way the tide does, in pulsing rushes that leave the beach bare to the sun. Empty. He doesn’t know what takes its place, the twist in his stomach unnamable and cruel.

“I know because it was me.” Jeongguk swipes at his cheeks again. Glistening trails of tears smear across the back of his hand and the curve of his cheek. “It- It was me, I wrote them all.”

Oh.

Hoseok whispers, “Oh.”

Why hadn’t he said anything? Hoseok’s chest clenches, leaving him breathless because his Jeonggukie, his not-so-little-anymore Jeonggukie, hadn’t felt safe enough to just mention this to Hoseok. What if he had thought Hoseok would make fun of him? Who is Gukkie even writing them to, for that matter? Hoseok has read every word and every note, pressed and creased and tucked into the smallest parts of itself, and they have all been beyond sweet. Anyone who read them would fall in love. Anyone at all. They’re so heartfelt and Hoseok has been so selfish-

Hoseok blinks. Breathes through the jealous burn in his chest. His hand loosens around Jeongguk’s wrist and he becomes terribly aware of how fast Jeongguk’s heart is beating, a constant thrum against the tips of his fingers. “Oh. Jeongguk, you like- someone? You don’t have to- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to read them or. No, I did, I did, but I- They weren’t for me to read. I’m sorry, Gguk-ah, if I’d known they were yours, I wouldn’t have.”

Jeongguk’s laugh is high and a little hysterical, and this time when he pulls away, Hoseok lets him. “No, you wouldn’t have. You said you wouldn’t read them.”

“I didn’t know,” Hoseok pleads. His chest is crumpling in, crushing his lungs and the tender heart between them. “Jeongguk, I didn’t-“

“You promised me. I can’t- You lied and now you’re just-“ Jeongguk shakes his head again. Steps away. “I have to go. I can’t be here. I can’t believe you read them and then just didn’t say anything.”

He’s out the door before Hoseok can figure out what to say. He isn’t quiet as he leaves the apartment either, and Hoseok feels the rattle of the door closing in his bones.

Hoseok sinks to the floor. Laughter comes from the other room, tearful but delighted, and he can hear Yoongi’s watery protests, the way he sounds so pleased. At least that ended up well, Hoseok thinks. He puts his back to his door. Curls over his knees. Forces himself to breathe, even and slow, until his eyes don’t burn and his chest isn’t threatening to cave in.

Slow and even.

In and out.

Hoseok’s breath hitches once and that’s it. He can’t fight off the feeling any longer, crumpling entirely into the space between his legs with wet little noises as the reality of the situation sets in. Jeongguk wrote the notes. Jeongguk wrote every heartfelt little phrase that had Hoseok’s heart skipping beats even while he was realizing that what he felt for Jeongguk went far beyond what he thought. Jeongguk told Hoseok not to read the notes, and Hoseok did.

Jeongguk wrote the notes.

Hoseok wasn’t supposed to read them.

They must have been for someone else, then. Someone else with a freckle by their mouth and a smile like the sun, and Hoseok doesn’t know who it is, but in this moment right now, he hates them. Just for right now, he tells himself, curling tighter and tighter until all the misery he feels collapses into a black hole within his skin.

Beside him, the tea grows cold.

For a little while, Hoseok really thinks that will be it. In the rush of their new relationship, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Taehyung won’t notice the way that Jeongguk and Hoseok have been quiet about and around each other, and as long as Hoseok keeps interactions with Jimin and Namjoon to a minimum, they won’t notice that something is weird either. Then this whole mess can scab over and Hoseok can drift, unmoored and unhappy as he nurses his broken heart. As his crush ruins his friendship with Jeongguk, just the way he was afraid it would.

He agonizes over how to apologize, if he even needs to apologize. What should he be sorry for? Sorry he never knew the love notes were from Jeongguk? Sorry that he thought their conversation was quite literally about drugged airplanes and not these sweet things? Sorry that he, perhaps reasonably, didn’t bring it up because it was something he wanted to keep to himself, and fuck, isn’t Hoseok allowed to have things he keeps to himself that he doesn’t have to automatically share with people? It’s not like Hoseok was hunting down the writer of the notes, either. He was just. Enjoying them. The way you do art.

(In the back of his mind, he hears Namjoon and Yoongi musing on the ethical consumption of media and how it must be a knowing exchange in order for it to be most effective, and waves them off. Not right now, mental philosophizing friends. Another time. This is Hobi pity hours.)

At the very least, Hoseok knows he’s sorry he hurt Jeongguk, whether he meant to or not. That sorry Hoseok is positive he means.

Through all of his deliberation, Hoseok is fairly certain that he’s kept his shit properly to himself. Sure, he’s been less active in their groupchat. He’s been putting in more hours at the studio, formulated to times where Jimin and Jeongguk both won’t be there to visit. He’s begged off essentially every dinner that Yoongi and Seokjin have hosted, resigning himself to reheating leftovers in the middle of the night. But that’s just Hoseok needing his space.

Somehow, he’s still surprised when Jimin and Taehyung corner him.

“I’m going to preface all of this by saying that Jeonggukie has already told us everything,” says Jimin, jamming his foot into the doorframe before Hoseok can close it on him. “And Yoongi-hyung let us in, so don’t think you can get him on your side either. Come on, Hobi-hyung, we just wanna talk to you. Make sure you’re okay.”

Damn it, Min Yoongi. Hoseok can’t trust anyone anymore.

With a suppressed grumble, Hoseok lets them in. “I doubt Jeongguk really told you everything. And besides, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look. Taehyung speaks up next, voice rumbling in his chest. “Because Jeongguk found out you kept his love notes when you told him you wouldn’t, and now he’s mad at you?”

Oh. Okay, so maybe when they said everything, Jeongguk really had told them everything. Hoseok scrubs a hand through his hair, pacing around his room while the two settle on his bed. He scowls at them, but neither of them move. “So he is mad at me,” Hoseok says finally.

“More like he’s hurt.”

Hoseok’s jaw clenches. “Hurt? By what, me not knowing that he wrote them and keeping them anyways? I didn’t know. Jimin, you saw one of the letters. You know I didn’t know.”

“Did you ever stop to consider for a second that the notes were never supposed to be seen by their intended recipient?”

“I-“ Hoseok blinks. He looks at Taehyung for clarification, who is watching him with heavy lidded eyes, intent but otherwise absolutely unforthcoming as to the inner workings of his soulmate’s mind. “I mean, yeah, I guess? But-“

“So it follows,” Taehyung picks up before Hoseok can continue, “that Jeongguk was embarrassed because you read them.”

“I feel like I’m being quizzed by the Sphinx,” Hoseok mutters, then gives up. If they’re going to be like this, then the best way through is to wait them out. “Yeah, he seemed really upset that I had read them.”

Jimin sighs again. “If he didn’t want you to see them, that would make you…”

He trails off meaningfully and Hoseok stares at him unblinking. Taehyung is no help either, when Hoseok transfers his stare over.

“Kind of an asshole for reading them anyway?” Hoseok tries.

“No, hyung, you’re the intended recipient! Fuck’s sake, you are impossible,” Jimin scoots over to grab Hoseok by his face, little hands cupping Hoseok’s jaw and forcing them to make eye contact, his full mouth pressed into a discontent line. “Jeongguk wrote those notes for you.”

“What? No,” Hoseok says immediately. “He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t.”

“Yes,” Jimin hisses. “He did. Taetae, back me up.”

Hoseok could look over but an instinctive part of him refuses to let him break eye contact with a predator and Jimin very much is one right now. Still, he hears Taehyung’s noise of agreement.

“But why would he-“ Hoseok swallows, throat working against the pressure of Jimin’s hands. Weakly, he continues, “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he write those about me?”

“Why do people ever write love letters?” Taehyung asks. Jimin’s gaze softens the longer Hoseok stares at him, uncomprehending. His hold loosens, becoming comforting as Taehyung leans solidly against Hoseok’s side. “They want to be seen. They want to be expressed. They want someone to know they’re in love.”

It doesn’t make sense. “Then why would he be so upset that I read them?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Is anyone ever really happy to find out that someone eavesdropped? He was safe when you didn’t know.”

And that-

That hits Hoseok wrong, the unexpected pang of Jeongguk of all people feeling unsafe around Hoseok worming its way through his splintering lungs and shattered heart. “He’s safe with me still. How does he not know that he’s safe with me?”

“Well. That depends. How do you feel about him?”

“Do you think I don’t know how I feel about Jeonggukie?” Hoseok snaps. “I’m plenty self-aware, you know.”

“Hyung, with all due respect, how the fuck are we supposed to know any of that unless you say something? We’re your friends. Not mind readers, and not your therapists.” Jimin spreads his hands, rings glinting in the light. “We didn’t know anything.”

Which is. True, even if Hoseok doesn’t like it. As clear as he thinks he’s been, perhaps it hasn’t been clear enough, especially if Jeongguk himself hasn’t noticed that Hoseok is stupid for him.

“He’s my baby,” says Hoseok weakly, because it’s easiest to say aloud and it’s true, despite all things. “He’s my- I-. He has to know. Everyone else has to know! It’s not like it’s a fucking secret that I’m head over heels for him. I thought- when we argued, I thought my heart was breaking because he loved someone so much and it wasn’t me because if it was me, then why didn’t he just say so? Why…” Hoseok muffles a whimper, his voice cracking. Immediately, Jimin is there, cradling Hoseok to him, and Hoseok lets himself lean in. “Everyone knows I’m in love with Jeongguk.”

Jimin hums. “Not everyone.”

Taehyung presses against him, a solid warmth against his back. His voice is a deep, comforting rumble when he says, “Jeongguk thought he was being obvious too and yet you’re arguing with us about whether or not he likes you. Is it so hard to believe that he didn’t know about your feelings either?”

“Yes. No. Yes?” Hoseok swallows. “He wasn’t supposed to know.”

“And he still doesn’t,” says Jimin. “All he knows is that you read countless notes about how much he loves you, and you didn’t say anything at all to him except that they were “sweet.” So the question is now, hyung: what are you going to do?”

And that is the fucking question, isn’t it?

Taehyung and Jimin’s conversation bullied him out of his apartment, the need to make this right burning beneath his breastbone, carrying him all the way to Jeongguk’s dorm, his bike’s tires clacking merrily away in the brisk air. He’s a familiar enough face here that one of the students holds the door for him, letting him into the building without having to wait to be buzzed up.

The door to Jeongguk’s room is familiar and plain, a plate bearing Jeongguk’s name the only indication it’s his.

Hoseok raises his hand to knock-

-and gives up at the last second, the nervous quail of his heart too much. He lets his knuckles fall softly against the door, the impact more of a feeling than a sound. He does it once more. A facsimile of a knock. He should make more noise if he really wants Jeongguk to hear him. But.

The memory of Jeongguk’s wide, betrayed eyes fill Hoseok’s memory.

He hadn’t known they were Jeongguk’s notes. Does that give him the right to read them anyway? Anonymity doesn’t excuse him. Even if he just read them, he didn’t have to keep them, except that Hoseok is greedy in private little ways. He hadn’t thought it would hurt anyone. He hadn’t thought it through at all.

He slumps to the ground, resting his back against the door. He pulls his knees up to his chest.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Jeongguk probably won’t open the door even if Hoseok does manage to get his nerve up enough to actually knock.

A thought comes to him. Jolting up, Hoseok scrambles for his bag and digs frantically through it. “Paper, paper,” he mutters, finding a folded piece. He chokes back a quiet laugh at the sight of it, undoing the paper airplane with shaking hands as he smooths it flat.

“Your smile is like the sun,” he reads all over again, and Hoseok breathes through the burn of want in his chest, the desire to press the tips of his fingers into Jeongguk and leave behind traces of his presence, sweet and twisting like a vine.

Digging a little deeper, he finds a pen.

“Sometimes,” he writes, “It is possible to love something too close to realize what is growing right beneath your nose. Even when you do realize, it’s easier not to say anything because naming it means stepping back and reevaluating. I never needed to know that these notes were from you because I was, have been, already in love with you without them. I’m sorry I didn’t ask if they were yours, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you told me not to pick them up.

For what it’s worth, I would kiss you, if you would let me.

-Hoseok”

He folds it simply in half, not bothering to follow any of the creases already on the paper, and, taking a deep breath, shoves the note unceremoniously under the door. Hoseok closes his eyes. Reaches over his head.

Knocks loudly three times.

And waits.

There’s a shuffle behind the wood, and then Hoseok can’t hear anything else over the pounding of his heart. He sits there for untold minutes, waiting and waiting and waiting.

The door at Hoseok’s back gives out and he goes tumbling backwards.

Honestly, given everything, Hoseok isn’t sure why he’s so surprised by the door opening. But there he is, laying flat on his back with Jeongguk’s socked feet on either side of his head and a startled, red-flushed Jeongguk hovering over him. Hoseok wants- Hoseok wants to kiss his entire face. Hoseok wants to crawl inside him and never come back out again. Hoseok wants to lay his hand at the base of Jeongguk’s neck and guide him into a kiss, easy as anything, but all he can do right now is lay here. Wide-eyed, staring.

Jeongguk swallows. Holds up the note. It trembles in the air, his hands shaking, and Hoseok lets out a little whine at the sight, guilt wriggling its way through his breastbone. “Did you mean it? Do you mean it?”

Habit has Hoseok’s tongue curl around a denial before he swallows it back.

He can do this.

He can be brave.

“Jeongguk,” says Hoseok, raw and vulnerable with it, “You know I don’t bullshit about the important things. I meant it. I still mean it. I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

Jeongguk’s face goes blank. “Say it.”

Rolling over, Hoseok gets up, nudging the door shut behind him. “I…” he swallows, drags his hand through his hair, replaces his cap. “I don’t know exactly when it happened. But I’ve liked you for a while now. The notes had nothing to do with that.”

“Then… the notes?”

“I don’t know why I picked them up, really.” Hoseok swallows, smiles even though the expression feels stiff on his face. “They’re just sweet, I guess, and it seemed so romantic. I liked thinking that they were for me. That something in the universe wanted me to see them.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Jeongguk says, stubborn. His grip wrinkles the corner of the note, and when Hoseok tries to smooth it back out, Jeongguk grasps his thumb, like he doesn’t dare to hold anything more.

Hoseok strokes the back of his hand in lieu of wriggling free, not wanting to break Jeongguk’s tentative hold on him, content to be caught. “Neither did you. I had no reason to think they were for me, or that you wrote them, you know. You denied it. I felt awful when you said they were yours.” Jeongguk flinches and Hoseok grips him tightly, keeps his voice gentle. “I thought I must have embarrassed you so badly.”

For a long moment, Jeongguk says nothing. His hand stays in Hoseok’s, warm and twitching slightly as he thinks, as Hoseok lets him, determined to hold the flood of words he could spout nervously back. Listen, he tells his racing heart. We have to listen.

Finally, Jeongguk lifts his head. His eyes are wide but he’s made up his mind. “Did you like them? The notes.”

“Jeongguk-ah, I saved them all because I loved them,” Hoseok admits with a sigh. “Every single one I read. I wanted someone to love me like that.”

“And now that you know. Now that you know they’re about you, from me?” Jeongguk’s gaze burns, blazes.

Hoseok cups the side of Jeongguk’s jaw. Puts his courage to the sticking point and draws immeasurably close now, close enough that Hoseok lets his eyes go out of focus, lets himself feel the heat of Jeongguk’s breath on his lips. “I’ve always wanted you to love me like this,” he admits in a whisper. “Because it’s how I’ve loved you this whole time too.”

The last of the distance between them collapses. Jeongguk gives out a tiny whine before he presses forward eagerly, catching Hoseok’s bottom lip between his own. He crowds Hoseok back against the door, hands skimming down Hoseok’s back, and Hoseok leans into his touch, arching closer to him as he wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. Shifting, Hoseok kisses him. Coaxes his head to the side with a tug of his hair.

It’s good. It’s shivery and delightful, getting to feel Jeongguk solidly against him as their kisses progress to open-mouthed, exploratory.

“Hey,” Jeongguk rasps, “Can I try something?”

Hoseok swallows dryly, fighting back the urge to roll his hips against Jeongguk’s and giving him a suggestion for what he should try next. “Sure. Yeah, go ahead.”

Jeongguk’s expression goes serious, determined, and Hoseok’s stomach clenches hotly at all that determination being focused on him. His hands flutter around Jeongguk’s shoulders, the dip of his waist, curling and uncurling as Hoseok presses palms to the whole breadth of him, wanting, wanting, wanting.

Jeongguk kisses the upper bow of his lip once, twice, three times.

Sweet and short little pecks, the last of them lingering and sending off with a hot dart of tongue into Hoseok’s willing mouth.

His eyes crinkle as he grins at Hoseok’s baffled expression. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“I read as much,” Hoseok says. Then he leans up and dots three kisses on the freckle below Jeongguk’s lip. Scrapes his teeth against the swell of his lip afterwards just to hear the breathless way Jeongguk whines.

It takes a while for them to cool down, for the kisses to turn soft and seeking instead of eager, but eventually they part. Hoseok presses his forehead against Jeongguk’s. Sways back and forth in place, his hands scaling Jeongguk’s body like he’s going to map it through touch alone. Shivering, Jeongguk clutches him back. Sways with him.

Then, shyly, a bit pleased, Jeongguk asks, “You mean it, though? You really want to date me?”

“Well,” Hoseok murmurs, trailing his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair. His cheeks hurt with the force of the smile he can’t keep contained, that he keeps nuzzling against Jeongguk’s jaw and neck, practically wiggling with delight. “You always have been my favorite.”

“He’s wearing your watch again,” Yoongi says. His voice is barely more than a rumble, looking as content as he can be with his chin resting on Taehyung’s fluffy head of hair. Taehyung has his hands wrapped around Yoongi’s wrists and he’s using him to gesticulate as he talks to Jimin.

Petulant at being called out, Hoseok shoves his cold feet under Yoongi’s ass. Sure, he probably won’t feel it through his pants, but it’s the meaning of the thing. “He’s my boyfriend now, hyung, he can wear it whenever he likes.”

“Can he now?” Seokjin leans over the back of the couch, dropping a kiss to Yoongi’s head and then another to the side of Taehyung’s, flailing dramatically for effect until they kiss him back. “And here I thought it was an elaborate system the two of you had devised for who was topping.”

Jeongguk looks up at Seokjin from his spot on the floor. His eyes are wide and guileless. Hoseok muffles his laugh, knowing this is Jeongguk’s patent shit-stirring expression, ready to cause trouble just for the humor, and his toes wiggle with delight. “How did you figure it out so fast, hyung? I thought we were being subtle.”

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Namjoon explode with noisy protests, counterset to the peals of laughter from Jimin and Taehyung. Hoseok pulls out his phone amidst the chaos.

Hobi~<3
naughty baby

JK~<3
u lov it baby
that’s why I’m yours

Hobi~<3
u rite
gimme kiss

And Jeongguk checks his phone. Grins. Kneels up to brace his hands on Hoseok’s knees and kisses him just the way he asks for. Once, twice, thrice.