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1
Park Hyemin hates her life. She really fucking does. First, she had the biggest fight of her life with her stupidly stupid parents because they don’t want to let her follow their dreams, and now this. Her favourite place in the entire town closed because of a break. She didn’t even know they do breaks to begin with. Great.
She leans against the door and decides to wait. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and the pc bang near the bus stop had become one of her favourite places in the whole wide world a long time ago. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. Certainly not in front of Jungkook, one of the owners, who teases her enough as it is.
It’s summer, so the air sticks to her skin like glue. It’s uncomfortable, and so gross, and she really hopes she can just go inside and cool down with the AC on. That is, unless Hoseok won’t make her something to eat first. or spontaneously decides to grab ice cream even though taking care of the town’s underdogs certainly doesn’t belong to his daily tasks.
She freezes, feeling her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans, but she decides to ignore it. She knows all too well who’s calling, and she’s out of energy to keep fighting. One battle at the time, her mom always says, and the thought almost makes her laugh.
“Hyemin-ah! You made it!” Hoseok’s voice comes from her right, so she turns. Hoseok welcomes her with his big, sunny smile and platinum blond hair that he dyed last week. She still doesn’t understand how someone this old can pull it off.
(Hoseok keeps reminding her that being forty is not old at all, but Hyemin, with her eighteen years of life experience, isn’t sure if she should trust him.)
“Of course I did, Mr. Jung.” she smiles politely, the smile not reaching far enough to include her eyes. Hoseok furrows his brows at the sight.
“Should we get inside?”
Hoseok starts unlocking the door even before she nods in agreement. The air is cooler inside, the rows of computers and extremely comfortable chairs illuminated by fluorescent lights in all the colors of rainbows. Knowing the nature of Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s relationship, Hyemin sometimes wonders if the choice of color wasn’t deliberate.
“You hungry?” Hoseok calls right before he disappears somewhere behind the counter next to the door. He shuffles around the microwave and all the other devices as if Hyemin already ordered something specific.
“No, I actually already had lunch. But uhm… I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I came?”
Hoseok’s face darkens even more, hearing the crack in Hyemin’s voice. And she hates it. God, does she hate it. Hoseok has shown her nothing but kindness, and here she is, coming to him with tears like a baby she knows she no longer is.
“Come with me,” Hoseok says, turning around to motion for the girl to follow him to the room she’s never gone in before.
It turns out to be some sort of a resting room with a sofa and a closet, a few books and games littered all over the floor, and a table standing in the middle of the room. She comes to a halt, taking in the interior, but quickly makes her way to the sofa when Hoseok beckons her to sit down with him.
“Do you want to talk?” Hoseok’s eyes are gentle and warm, sunny just like his smiles always are, and Hyemin wonders if she’ll ever be lucky enough to find her own personal sun to brighten her days just like Jungkook did.
Fiddling with the hem of her skirt, she takes a deep breath. Hoseok waits patiently for whatever she’s willing to share. So she does…at least in the only way she knows how.
“What did you dream about when you were younger?”
2
Waking up after a dreamless sleep always turns out to be more lonely than not, but Hoseok had gotten used to it. When he peels his eyes open to see a living room filled with rays of sunshine spilling through the curtains and a persistent knocking on the door, he feels lonely, too, but mostly startled.
With a groan slipping past his lips as he lifts himself from the couch, he threads his fingers through his dark hair and walks mindlessly towards the door. On his way, he can see the drama he started yesterday still playing on the screen. He fell asleep and forgot to turn it off.
Before he reaches for the door knob, he takes a look at his reflection in the mirror and surveys the dark circles under his eyes, pulling at the lines of his eyes like an anchor. All the while, the knocking becomes louder; the hitting reverberates through the entire door.
“I’m coming, coming,” Hoseok huffs, his voice laced with annoyance. Once he pulls at the door, he expects to see Namjoon or Yoongi, maybe Jimin, but not-
“…Jungkook?”
Because that’s who’s standing in front of him. The boy from the past. The boy with bunny teeth and a heart filled with excitement for every little wonder that crosses his path. The boy Hoseok loved, and who risked it all, following something no one but he could catch up with.
“Hi, Hoseok hyung.” Jungkook smiles, leaning against the door frame, arm bent to balance the weight of the huge bag he holds across his shoulder.
Jungkook looks different. He’s not the fifteen year old kid from Hoseok’s memories anymore. Instead of black bangs framing his face in an even line, there are navy blue strands of hair cascading along the lines of his face, reaching where his collar bones should be, and there’s a piercing on his right eyebrow, too. Hoseok gulps, taking it all in, and he wonders if somewhere, underneath the layers of all the new, there is the same boy who used to fold Hoseok’s math notes into paper planes and throw them out the window in his bedroom.
“What- What the hell are you doing here?”
“Moving in.” Jungkook shrugs with a grin on his face, Hoseok doesn’t understand anything at all until Jungkook steps inside and passes by him on his way to the living room.
Hoseok blinks and then turns around, watches Jungkook’s back as he scans the frayed sofa, the TV still playing the shitty drama Hoseok watches to kill some of his remaining brain cells when he can’t help but overthink. And then there are the photos which are all taken by Yoongi, hanging in most random places all over the living room. Jungkook sees them all, and Hoseok is frozen.
“What the fuck,” Hoseok whispers, finally pulling at the right strings to make his body move. His legs take him as far as the living room, but seeing Jungkook sit completely relaxed on the sofa, he stands still again.
“Didn’t Yoongi tell you?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion.
“Tell me what?”
Jungkook groans, sliding his hand across his face as if he could brush away all the problems with one swipe. He can’t, because Hoseok feels just as lost as he did before. “That I’ll be crashing on your sofa.”
“But I was sleeping on the sofa,” Hoseok counters not so eloquently.
“You don’t have a bed in your room?”
“No, I- I do have a bed. But I was sleeping on the sofa. Just now.” Hoseok flails with his hand in the air as if he was trying to draw all of his thoughts in shapes and colors more comprehensible than his words ever could be. Hoseok has never been good with words.
“Oh. Well, I don’t want to sleep now. We can figure it out.” Jungkook smiles and pushes away some of the strands falling into his eyes, tugging them behind his ear.
He looks so… adult. Not like Yoongi’s younger brother. Not like the boy Hoseok hugged when he was leaving for college, nor like the boy who ran away, leaving them all behind. Or maybe he was getting ahead of them all. Hoseok still isn’t sure which one is true.
“But... but I still don’t get it. Why are you here?”
Hoseok walks to the sofa, his steps just as shapeless as his thoughts, and sinks into the cushions next to Jungkook. He expects to be met with the same welcoming smile on Jungkook’s face, but instead, there’s a weight wrinkling his lips into a frown.
It’s not the Jungkook I used to know , crosses Hoseok’s mind.
“No reason.”
Hoseok shakes his head in disbelief but lets Jungkook get away with it. It’s not his place to pry. He’s not even sure if he knows the man in front of him well enough to not consider him a stranger, not to mention giving life-changing advice.
“So you just randomly decided to live with us?”
“Mhm,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath as his hands fiddle with the stripes of his bag. Now that Hoseok looks at it, he realizes it’s not as big as he thought, not in a scenario where it contains all of Jungkook’s belongings.
“But-”
“Talk to Yoongi. He knows everything,” is all Jungkook says before he fishes his phone from the pocket of his sweats and starts scrolling through the feed of some social media app Hoseok is not on. He knows he’s not, because he barely has enough time to sleep in between the never ending study sessions.
“I will,” he sighs. The corners of Jungkook’s lips slide up, moulding into something more genuine as if grateful for Hoseok to put a stop to his interrogation, at least for now, “Have you eaten?”
“Uhm. No. Not yet,” Jungkook answers, not taking his eyes off his phone.
“Do you want some ramen? I'd love to offer you a real meal, but me and hyung are both busy most of the time, so we didn’t have the time to-”
“Hey, hyung. It’s fine. I love ramen,” Jungkook quickly cuts him off, throwing his phone to the side. Hoseok can only watch him lean closer to him, Jungkook’s head finally falling onto his shoulder. Hoseok tries not to tear up at the memory of the Jungkook of the past who used to do the exact same thing when he was upset and needed comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it. Hoseok inhales instead, not identifying the scent enveloping Jungkook and his hoodie. It’s not his memory, not his Jungkook, but right here and now, it’s a little hard to keep the two versions separated.
“Do you remember that time I ate six cups at once and I couldn’t sleep the entire night?” Jungkook asks then, voice soft and fragile, broken at the edges like a ribbon torn, held together by the last thread.
Hoseok lowers his head to the side, leaning his temple against Jungkook’s.
“I remember.”
“I had to be around fifteen, right?”
“You were cuter back then.” Hoseok smiles, and he knows Jungkook hears it when the younger shifts his position so that his nose falls right into the crook of Hoseok’s neck.
“You too, hyung. You got old,” Jungkook whispers.
Hoseok takes his time with an answer because words are hard, and he definitely forwent the opportunity to learn how to use them properly when he decided to major in economics, filling his brain with numbers, numbers, and numbers. But even so, with the time and Jungkook’s slow breaths on his chest that Hoseok counts, because he’s good at counting, the words don’t come to the surface.
Hoseok sighs.
“Are you, okay, JK?”
Jungkook chuckles at the nickname and playfully hits Hoseok’s side, “I will be, hyung.”
And sure, maybe Hoseok doesn’t know this Jungkook, doesn’t know if he reached what he so desperately chased after.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter.
3
“Cause my parents don’t get it. That I want to be an artist. That I want to go to all these exhibitions and study how to become the best at it.”
Hoseok nods in understanding.
“What would they like you to do instead?”
Hyemin tosses her head back with a bitter smile warping her face.
“An engineer. They say it’s close enough to art. Can you believe that?”
Hoseok hums, the sound deep and low, so different from how chirpy his voice usually sounds - as if he could believe it just fine.
4
The sky is blue, no trace of clouds in sight, and Jungkook gets a little lost in the vastness of the universe as he cocks his head, hands wrapped around the frame of his bicycle.
It’s crazy to think that the same sky towers over all that’s different. Jungkook’s fifteen year old mind can’t really grasp the idea of being a singular, insignificant sand particle when the universe seems to be the size of an entire beach.
He keeps pondering it as he passes the line of trees on his right and houses that appear once in a while on his left. The air feels sticky on his skin, and the sun burns his back with its heat. It’s been two weeks already since summer officially started, and there hasn’t been a cool day ever since. Jungkook would have probably been more affected if it hadn’t been for the perfectly managed temperature at Hoseok’s place. His parents were the only ones among Jungkook’s friends who decided to install air conditioning which resulted in all the teens across the town to gather in Hoseok’s living room to waste away the days with games and snacks.
Today, Yoongi is too busy packing for college, and Jungkook doesn’t want to mope around the house, knowing that it is already hard enough for his brother to leave everything behind, leaving Jungkook behind.
And honestly, Jungkook wouldn’t be this distraught about it if it wasn’t for the fact that along with Yoongi, his person, his favourite person in the whole wide universe, and most of his friend group is leaving too. Namjoon and Seokjin are already in Seoul, and Yoongi and Hoseok are about to join them, starting next semester. This leaves Jungkook with no one but Jimin. As much as he loves to spend time with him, Jimin isn’t his big brother who would buy them tteokbokki after a long, exhausting day. Jimin wouldn’t grunt at him like Yoongi does whenever Jungkook jumps in his bed while Yoongi is reading, poking his sides and doing his absolute best to distract him. Jimin would laugh. He would give in and join the fun, but Jungkook doesn’t want that. He wants Yoongi.
He bites at his bottom lip when the thoughts tumble under his skull like a car going too fast to stop. Jungkook will stay here in this small town of theirs with his parents who would rather smother his personality all at once than believe in him and his dreams. By then, everyone else will be far too gone to help him breathe.
All of a sudden, the baby blue sky blanches out like under a layer of a desaturating filter that Yoongi has been obsessively using in his photographs, and Jungkook can only see its color again when Hoseok’s house emerges from behind the line of shabby looking buildings.
It’s a small house, the walls painted white with thin wooden boards dividing them in even squares. Already through the window Jungkook makes out Hoseok’s mom working her way through the dishes. He smiles at her when her eyes finally settle on him, neither of them surprised at the other’s presence.
“Good morning, Mrs. Jung.” Jungkook bows slightly after he enters the house. Hoseok’s mom looks at him over her shoulder, a polite smile ghosting over her lips long enough for Jungkook to catch it, “Is Hoseok home?”
The woman fixes her hair tied in a bun, nodding without drawing her eyes away from the dishes, “He’s in his room packing. Please don’t stay too long, Jungkook-ah.”
“Of course, Mrs. Jung,” Jungkook answers stiffly, but he does his best to obscure it under an umbrella of respect.
“I hope you’re studying hard,” she mumbles. Jungkook doesn’t want to hear the rest of it, so he quickly apologizes and finds his way to Hoseok’s room.
He barges inside without knocking. He never knocks at Hoseok’s door. He wonders if there will be anyone left whose room he can feel just as comfortable in once Yoongi and Hoseok are gone. He doubts it.
“You came!” Hoseok exclaims, turning in his chair to welcome Jungkook with a sunny smile. In his hands, he holds a photo frame with a polaroid Jungkook remembers all too well. They took it by the river two years ago, all seven of them when moving to the city was more of a blurry dream than the sharp reality.
Jungkook wishes he could go back to that river, to that day, and do it all again.
“Of course I did! I promised I’ll help.” He throws himself onto the bed, scanning the blue walls, now naked without the posters Hoseok must have already taken down.
Hoseok squints at his sprawled out limbs and shakes his head, “I’m not sure how much help you can do from my bed.”
"Isn’t my precious company making the entire process way easier? You’d probably talk with the posters if it wasn’t for me.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes at that but doesn’t comment. Jungkook supposes it’s because he knows he’s right.
While Hoseok keeps on moving around the room, gathering all the things he deems essential, Jungkook makes himself comfortable on Hoseok’s bed. It smells like chocolate cookies, and it doesn’t make sense, not at all, but it’s a smell that follows Hoseok wherever he goes. And now Hoseok will take it with himself to Seoul.
Jungkook takes in a deep breath, presses his lips into a strained line, eyes boring into the plastic stars plastered all over the ceiling. Hoseok’s movements still. Jungkook exhales.
“Are you sad, hyung?”
“To leave?”
Jungkook nods, not really looking at Hoseok.
“Not really. It’s Seoul after all. How could I be sad about moving to the best city in the entire country,” Hoseok chuckles. Jungkook realizes his heart remains frozen in his chest until it finds its beat again once the answer is out.
He knew it. And despite what he expected, it doesn’t hurt to hear what he knew all along.
“I can’t wait to leave too.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” Jungkook laughs, realizing he means it. “I have so many things I want to do. I want to sing. I want people to listen.”
Jungkook expects Hoseok’s voice to carry the reply, but instead, the boy plops down onto the floor right next to the bed. His eyes shine in the sunlight brimming through the window, his black hair swept back unskillfully.
“Is this what you dream of? To become a singer?” Hoseok’s gaze seems to penetrate every single fibre of Jungkook’s body when he tilts his head and watches Jungkook attentively.
Jungkook breathes in. Out.
“Yes.”
It feels heavy to say it, to hear it. Each letter lingers in the air around them, and its weight hooks around the empty spaces like an anchor. But in the same way that it feels heavy, the truth relieves some of the pressure from Jungkook’s chest, his heart, as if all that load unravelled, the tiny pieces all that’s left.
“I believe in you,” Hoseok smiles, bumping Jungkook’s arm with his fist. “Your voice is pretty amazing, may I say so. It’s not a coincidence all of us grow silent when you start singing, you know? You’ve got a gift.”
Bitter-sweet. That’s how it tastes.
Jungkook forces a smile.
“My parents will never agree to it though. They managed to make Yoongi hyung major in business. As if they won’t do the same thing to me.”
“There’s always a way,” Hoseok persists, and it makes some of the heaviness glide back to where it was before.
“Did you always want to study public administration?” Jungkook changes the subject, but it seems to be the wrong one given Hoseok doesn’t open his mouth for the next few moments or so.
“No,” he finally responds, shifting so that he can lean his back against the bookshelf on Jungkook’s left. It’s already been emptied of books. “But I didn’t know what I wanted at all, so I didn’t mind applying for whatever my parents wanted me to. I don’t mind.”
Jungkook swivels his neck to look at Hoseok, really looking at him. If he had been older, he would’ve seen how scared he is, how the same fear lines up with his features like a mask merging into one with his face.
But Jungkook is young, and too scared himself to see any of it.
So he says the one thing he can think of.
“I will not let them stop me from dreaming, hyung.”
Hoseok smiles, still scared, but proud too.
Fight for us both , he thinks when a steely smile arches Jungkook’s lips. It looks like a declaration.
5
"You know, Jungkook did it,” Hoseok says, his eyes blurry with reminiscence of a moment Hyemin has no access to. She doesn’t fail to notice how Hoseok’s voice softens when he mentions Jungkook.
“Did what?”
“He fought against all odds. He ran away from home, from his parents. I remember his brother complaining to me that all he took was a bag with a few pieces of clothing and his guitar. He even forgot his ID.”
“No way!”
“You can ask him if you don’t believe me,” Hoseok frowns theatrically, and Hyemin swats his arm. By now, she’s used to the teasing.
“I believe you, but wow. That’s huge. He was so brave!”
“He was. I always admired that about him.” Hoseok rubs at his nape, trying to cover up the way his lips are physically unable to stop arching into a soft smile, “He really worked himself to the bone to make it work. He risked everything.”
6
At first, Hoseok is confused because even though Jungkook’s stuff is scattered all over the apartment, the man himself doesn’t really stick around long enough for Hoseok to catch a glimpse of him. And it says something, considering Hoseok used to be the one practically living in the university library, studying.
When he asks Yoongi about it, he only shrugs dismissively, “Jungkook is working”, he says. It should be enough for Hoseok, but it isn’t.
So on one of the evenings when he comes back home to an empty apartment, he decides to wait for the youngest. He finds a comfortable position on the floor and lets the floor heating flood his muscles with its gentle caresses. He almost falls asleep, but then the door makes a quiet click as it falls shut, and Hoseok couldn’t feel more wide awake.
Jungkook is surprised at first, his brows furrowing and nose scrunching just like it used to. Hoseok asks all the questions he was choking on. Jungkook answers every single one of them.
It turns out Yoongi was right. Jungkook was working. Sometimes he is standing in the never-ending lines to castings and auditions just to pour his heart out in a song that would be deemed not good enough to grant Jungkook a chance. Other times, it is singing in a bar, in front of people too intoxicated to appreciate his voice even though Jungkook feels like throwing up, feeling so full of hopes and dreams that weigh him down like lead, but are too stubborn to break. He feels like suffocating. But on stage? On stage, he’s flying.
So he works and works and works. And he waits for a miracle, for a dream to come true, to take him high high into the sky where the sun shines and every broken bone heals.
But for now, he waits.
Hoseok feels like breaking. Maybe that way, in pieces, he could lessen some of the pressure building up under what used to be Jungkook’s wings.
7
“But he did it, right? He made his dream come true?” Hyemin drags her legs up and settles on her heels, eyes wide with something Hoseok recognizes as hope.
“Dreaming isn’t easy, you see. It never is, especially when it’s something you really want.”
“I know!” She interjects, and Hoseok reaches for a small plushie lying on his side and throws it at Hyemin. She giggles, catching it midair, “But he succeeded? Despite everything?”
“He… He did his best.”
8
It’s two in the morning when Hoseok pushes the door open and finds Jungkook and Yoongi tucked together on the floor, hunched over a few bottles of soju, most of them already empty. Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed and Hoseok can bet if he measured Yoongi’s temperature with his hand, the skin would be just as hot as it looks like.
“Why are you still up?” he asks, toeing off his shoes and dumping his bag into the corner next to the door, his bones cracking in protest at the movement.
“The day is young,” Jungkook babbles as he leans forward to grab the bottle and pour himself some more soju. At first he attempts to fill Yoongi’s glass, but Yoongi covers it with his hand just in time for some of the soju to spill ov er and wet his fingers. “Sorry,” Jungkook snickers under his breath, and Yoongi smiles fondly, pushing Jungkook’s hand away from him.
"Are you sure two am should still be considered a day?” Hoseok laughs.
While on his way to the kitchen, he stretches his limbs like a cat sleeping in the sun, indulging with the quiet cracks of his bones as they reverberate throughout his flesh and muscles. Somewhere behind him, he hears Yoongi give a hoot of wholehearted laughter, probably at something dumb Jungkook just did.
“Details,” Jungkook calls when Hoseok fetches a glass and fills it with some juice.
“How much did you drink?” He sizes them both up, cheeks red and tongues wobbly, and he realizes that he doesn’t really need an answer.
“How much did we drink, hyung?” Jungkook asks with an overly serious voice, leaning into the space over the bottles, eyes wide open like two coins.
Yoongi pushes him away - gently, always gently, “Enough, Kook-ah. We should go to bed.”
Before Jungkook can try to enchant him with his cute pout, Yoongi gets up, swaying slightly when he forces his legs to move.
“Where are you going?” Jungkook whines. Yoongi offers him one single smile, and then starts walking towards his bedroom. Jungkook stretches his arms to get a grasp onto Yoongi’s legs, but to no avail.
“I just told you. To bed.” Yoongi waves both Hoseok and Jungkook goodbye over his shoulder, Hoseok nodding wordlessly in return. Only when the door to Yoongi’s room falls shut does he realize Yoongi couldn’t even see the nod in the first place.
“Fuck, I’m tired,” he mumbles under his breath, the words coming out strangled when his hand slides along his face, tugging at the loose skin.
His bones ache. The throbbing pain behind his eyes melts his brain into a puddle of goo, and all he can think of is the softness of his mattress. Sleep. He needs sleep.
“Hoseok hyung?” Jungkook’s voice pierces through the last layer of exhaustion, straight into Hoseok’s brain. He winces at how magnified every sound that reaches his ears is.
“What’s up, JK?”
“Sit with me,” he pleads, and there’s something frail in the threads of his voice. That something coerces Hoseok’s legs to move, taking him to the small space on the floor that Yoongi was occupying before.
“Now what?” Hoseok smiles despite everything.
Jungkook tugs his blue hair behind his ear, but when some wayward strands fall back onto his forehead, he threads his fingers through his hair, pushing all of it to the back.
Hoseok uses this time to lean backwards, steadying himself with his palms against the floor.
“Now we drink,” Jungkook answers with a happy glint in his eyes.
“I have to study tomorrow.”
“And?”
“And… Alcohol doesn’t sound like such a good idea when I have two exams next week, but I can keep you company.”
Jungkook pointedly lets his eyes linger on Hoseok, trying to break his resolve. When it doesn’t work, he simply downs his glass, hissing at the bitter taste.
"Why do you even drink when you don’t like the taste?” Hoseok laughs, shifting in his seat, his leg now bent up and chin resting on his clasped hands that rest on his knee.
“It’s never about the drinking, hyung. Don’t you know?”
“What is it about then?”
Jungkook tilts his head as if considering his options. Hoseok finds it bewitching to see how every thought rushing through Jungkook’s mind leaves a trace on his face as if his skin is a night sky, and his emotions and thoughts are constellations lighting up one by one.
Finally, when Jungkook seems to be ready, he turns his head to the right where the window is. They’re far enough from it to not be able to glance through, but Jungkook’s eyes still sink into the view of something Hoseok’s sober mind cannot make out. It’s as if whatever he sees is a soft blanket that wraps itself around Jungkook’s consciousness as soon as his eyes are laid atop.
“I think… I think drinking is about fun.” He forces a smile. It doesn’t convince neither Hoseok nor Jungkook, “I think it’s about loosening up, too. And sometimes… Sometimes it’s about forgetting about what we want to forget.”
Hoseok puffs out a stream of air, emptying his lungs from all oxygen.
“What are you trying to forget about, Jungkook-ah?”
This time when Jungkook opens his mouth, he turns to Hoseok and unravels in front of him - eyes shimmering with traces of tears and face sunken as if gravity is pulling at his skin.
“Why do you think I made Yoongi let me crash here?” He asks, broken.
Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, so he waits, giving Jungkook the needed space and time to process whatever it is he’s feeling.
“You know how I ran away from home right after graduation, right?” Hoseok nods, “My parents were about to force me to major in computer studies and I knew that it’s not what I wanted. So I ran. And then I met someone who was running, too, and for a bit, it was actually pretty amazing, hyung. Really fucking amazing.” The tears find their way onto Jungkook’s cheeks, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand. Hoseok gulps away the urge to move closer, “I think I really loved him. But then we broke up and after he cheated on me in our home, in our bed, and I could no longer stay there. And Yoongi always said that he’ll be there for me even though I didn’t really want to talk to him for all these years. So… Tada! Here I am.”
Jungkook looks miserable, eyes all red and this stupid, stupid smile on his face, rendering him even more miserable.
Hoseok curls his fingers into fists under his chin.
“You can stay for however long you want.” Is all Hoseok says because he’s always been bad with words.
“Thanks, hyung.” Jungkook blinks away the remaining tears, still looking sad, but the smile he offers Hoseok seems more genuine than not, almost happy. “But you know what?”
“Mhm?”
“I still sing. Well, I never really stopped.”
Like that, despite everything and because of it, too, the smile that tugs at Hoseok’s lips is just as radiant as the sunrise spilling over the horizon.
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
9
“So he didn’t…” Understanding washes over her. She lowers her head as the flames of excitement inside her eyes dissipate, “He didn’t make it?”
Hoseok nods, trying his best to not snatch the girl and hug all of her sorrows away.
“Sometimes clutching onto a dream is not the best option. He held onto his for as long as he could, Hyemin-ah. It was hard, and it was painful. But he tried. How many people can say the same?”
10
Jungkook has nothing else left other than singing, Hoseok realizes some time later.
He sees it in the fiery look of his eyes every single time he leaves the apartment, hugging his guitar closer to his chest. Holding onto it, too, as if it isn’t just an instrument that he is embracing.
At first, Hoseok wasn't sure what to do about it. Words can only take him so far, and with his talent to always pick the wrong ones, his attempts at cheering Jungkook on end pretty unsuccessful. So he tries something else.
One of the evenings, when Jungkook comes home, smelling like booze and cigarettes, Hoseok asks him if he can watch his next performance. Jungkook’s eyes widen a little in this funny way that makes him so much more similar to the fifteen year old boy Hoseok used to know. Jungkook nods and leaves for bed. The next day, he gets a message with a location and time that he saves in his notes app after he sets a reminder.
At first, it’s a little awkward, sitting alone in a bar full of groups of friends. He feels dizzy from the smoke and the sharp smell of alcohol that lingers in the air, scratching at his throat like sandpaper. But he still waits patiently, revising social and political theories for his exam next week whenever the pitiful looks of strangers thrown his way weighs too heavily on his shoulders.
He leans back in his seat as he stretches out his legs, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table next to his textbook. God, is he tired. Even the months in the military had been easier than this.
(What “this” is, Hoseok is not exactly sure.)
Only when the lights blink, does Hoseok straighten in his chair and stares at the stage without blinking even once. He expects people’s voices to die down slowly when the colorful lights set the small square of a stage alight, but they don’t. Nobody seems to care that there’s a mic standing there, lonesome and forgotten, or that the person backstage is the only reason Hoseok is even here. It makes him mad to see that Jungkook’s dream gets so easily swept under the rug. He deserves better. He knows he does.
So when Jungkook’s blue mop of hair finally emerges from behind the heavy curtains and no one pays attention, Hoseok finds himself whistling in excitement. Jungkook freezes until his eyes meet Hoseok’s, and when his body comes back to life, it does so with a new energy.
He says his hellos, settles the guitar on his lap, and then-
The magic happens.
It’s not the first time Hoseok hears Jungkook sing, but holy shit- did he get better. As a teenager, his voice was angelic, but frail and thin, lacking confidence that the Jungkook of today so obviously has. This Jungkook doesn’t have to sing his heart out, because it is already outside his chest for everyone to see and hear. And Hoseok does. He hears every single emotion and feeling, every thought Jungkook might not even realize is there, but still resonates within his voice like the crashing of waves under the moonlight.
And that’s when Hoseok falls in love. With what, he cannot say, but he falls. Oh, does he fall hard.
That night they leave together, Jungkook sweaty and high on adrenaline while Hoseok keeps smiling like a fool for a reason he’s not fully aware of. Maybe it’s seeing Jungkook like this, happy and shining like a shooting star, or maybe it’s all about letting happiness wash over him for once. No textbook or politics, no laws to revise.
Quicker than Hoseok realizes, he gets addicted to that feeling, to living in this one, short moment and soaking up the happiness echoing within each sound spilling from Jungkook’s lips. He can’t get enough.
Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind when he tags along to whatever perfor mance comes next. Be it in a pub or a bar full of drunk people, Hoseok is there. Listening. Feeling. Absorbing whatever music leaves Jungkook’s body. And for some time that’s enough for the both of them. Because even when things don’t go as planned, there’s a pair of kind eyes somewhere in the crowd where the faces in front of them blur too much to see past the haze. It’s enough until it no longer is.
The day Hoseok crushes is the same day the unwavering belief in Jungkook falters. Clutching at his phone, pressing it to his chest like a lifeline, Hoseok keeps reminiscing about the email he just received from his professor. I’m very sorry to inform you that you failed my class… He wrote as if the implication of the words could be borne by something as vestigial as letters while what they mean pools up in Hoseok’s chest like a balloon puffing up, up, up.
When he enters the apartment, he’s seconds from tearing apart. He can feel it. The pieces ripped open, holding on by a thread on their way to the ground. He can’t breathe. Maybe his lungs have been sliced open too. Maybe that’s why the air that perforates doesn't stay for too long.
In the darkness, he drops his phone onto the sofa and sinks onto the cushions, hands rubbing at his face, kneading the skin as if trying to mould it into a new shape. Hoseok sits there for god knows how long. He tries to breathe, but it just doesn’t work. He has to get out of here.
Without thinking, he forces his legs to move until he makes it to the door, then up, up, up the stairs, right to the next door. And then, after he flings them open, he sees stars. He breathes in, and the oxygen stays.
“Hyung?”
Hoseok jumps up, letting a pathetic little yelp out before he can strangle it at its core. He looks to his right, and there he is. Jungkook. He’s leaning against the waist-high wall separating them from the threat of free falling on the pavement below. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans - an outfit Hoseok learned by now is his usual stage attire.
“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks instead. His voice weighs heavy on his tongue, hampering the movements, so that whatever comes out sounds dead and empty.
Jungkook takes his time answering. His eyes seem to search for something in Hoseok, in his face, eyes, hands. When he purses his lips, Hoseok figures he hasn’t found it.
He walks slowly towards Jungkook (because one single rash step could be the one making him cave in), and rests his back against the wall. Jungkook doesn’t change his position. His eyes are still locked on the sky, all black and no stars, and only sometimes he glances over his shoulder at Hoseok. It’s during one of these times when Hoseok notices it. The tears. They’re not quite there yet, dancing in the lines of Jungkook’s eyes, glistening like the stars that Jungkook stole from the sky.
Hoseok tugs at the loose skin on his thumb with the nail of his pointing finger when Jungkook’s head sinks, hair raining onto his forehead, preventing Hoseok from seeing anything at all, just the blue.
“What if it’s all for nothing, hyung?” Jungkook’s voice sounds sad. Miserable. Hoseok gulps, bracing himself for the grief that’s already tingling behind his eyes. He’s not sure if he reaches out for Jungkook’s neck to give Jungkook something to hold onto, or if he’s the one anchoring himself. His fingertips rub slowly at the skin, flushed and cold from the wind all at the same time.
“Dreaming is always worth something,” he whispers back. Jungkook stirs, his fingers first tugging his hair behind his ear, then bashfully falling onto Hoseok’s hand. He hooks his fingers around Hoseok’s. At first one, then two until their hands fit perfectly laced together. He sends Hoseok a strained smile, the stars in his eyes shimmering once again. Attempting to give him some comfort, Hoseok squeezes his nape.
“But what if- what if I don’t have enough dreams in me to keep going?” Jungkook sounds broken when he opens his lips. They’re still bent into a crescent of a smile, mirthless and sad. So sad.
“Shh, I got you,” Hoseok says before he pushes himself closer to Jungkook, the other arm embracing Jungkook’s torso and forehead bumping not so gently against Jungkook’s temple, “You can find new dreams to replace the ones that disappear over time.” His voice fans over Jungkook’s cheeks. Makes him shudder in the chill of the night. All Hoseok feels is warmth, “Dreaming isn’t hard, Jungkook-ah. Not giving up on them is the challenging part.”
That’s when the stars start falling down Jungkook’s cheeks. They cling onto Hoseok’s skin, wet and warm, and despite everything, he doesn’t want to wipe them off. He shushes Jungkook, cradles his cheek with the hand that lingered on his neck and pulls his body closer, the other arm slinging around Jungkook and pressing where it feels good. Where it grounds him.
Jungkook’s crestfallen expression disappears in the crook of Hoseok’s neck as he wraps his arms around the man. He lets it all out, doesn’t keep anything inside because right now he feels like nothing more than a pierced balloon slowly deflating with no control left.
“But hyung,” he sobs. Hoseok holds him tighter, “I- I’m not sure how much of it I have left. How long I can hold onto it before it disappears. I just- I don’t know.”
Hoseok doesn’t know what to do. He feels the wind grazing against his skin, his hair dancing with it as the sky remains too bright to light up with stars, but too dark to let the blue bleed into the night. He clutches onto Jungkook and says the only thing he can think of, “And that’s okay, too. There’s always hope.”
“Hope for what exactly?” Jungkook asks, containing the tears. He chuckles dryly against Hoseok’s neck to then pull away and look him straight in the eyes.
There are no stars left in Jungkook’s eyes, Hoseok realizes. They’re both covered in them, wet traces smeared all over Jungkook’s cheeks and Hoseok’s neck.
Hoseok caresses the soft spot right under Jungkook’s jawline where the skin is warm and so pristine that Hoseok starts to wonder how it would feel to press his lips against it.
Then, he smiles lopsidedly before leaning closer, pressing their foreheads together. They become one universe, one pair of lungs and lips breathing the same air. A smile lurks in the corners of Jungkook’s lips when Hoseok finally answers, “For something new.”
The moment Jungkook looks down to Hoseok’s lips causes a shift, giving birth to something both of them knew was there all along.
And it was blooming.
11
“What if that’s what will happen to me, Mr. Jung?” Hyemin’s voice is thin when she lets the question wallow in the space between them.
“What? Failing?”
Hyemin nods.
“You may fail,” Hoseok sends her a soft smile. “But we all fail all the time. Our dreams die, and new ones find us when we least expect it. That’s kind of what life is about. It’s about choosing your path with no guarantee that it’s the best way to go.”
"So… I should expect the unexpected?”
Hoseok beams at her, “Exactly.”
12
Life is made out of first pages and the longish monologues at the end of the book where people lay out their thank yous in a non alphabetical order.
Hoseok always assumed getting his degree would feel like this too - a monologue with too many words and punctuation marks, but somewhere in between those, there would be enough pride stitched within to compensate for all the used up ink. Instead of pride, there’s disappointment.
When he finds a job in a public office, well paid and guaranteeing enough days off to not start hating working there, he thinks that’s it. That’s what he spent years and years studying for. But rather than the light at the end of the tunnel, all that approaches him as he enters his cubicle is an old model of computer with sticky notes still attached to the wall behind it. He thinks, “It’ll get better,” cause nobody wants to give up before that one second where everything can change.
So Hoseok waits - even though endure would probably fit better. His boss hates him, or Hoseok at least comes to this conclusion based on the overtime hours put in his schedule. The only times he can really wind down is at home, and as days go by, it becomes less and less common to find him in his own apartment. Usually, when he’s on his way outside, his supervisor smiles at him politely, chit chatting about nothing and everything until Hoseok’s eyes dart towards the door, and, as if he only waited for this to happen, he beckons all the remaining employees to himself and invites everyone for drinks. Lots of drinks. But it’s not like he can say no. So he follows the group, every single time, and hates himself more and more with each.
Because that’s what he worked for so hard, this is it. It should be. So why doesn’t it feel like it?
Once, when it’s dark outside and the silver moonlight paints everything with blue hues, Hoseok lumbers to the kitchen and picks up a glass from the counter. He’s about to hunch over the refrigerator to fetch some water when a sudden movement of someone behind him awakens all of his defence mechanisms, his body jerking away before he can find balance. It sends him onto the floor, the glass rolling away, and his back sore from the fall.
“Did I scare you, hyung?” Jungkook asks innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about the glint in his eyes, visible even in the half-light.
“No. I’m just resting. On the floor,” Hoseok deadpans, pinching his nose.
“Mhm, looks very cozy,” Jungkook nods.
At first it seems like Jungkook is waiting for Hoseok to do something substantial that would indicate the direction of the conversation they were to have, but it doesn’t happen. For a while, Hoseok’s lips open and close time and time again, no words emerging, and when Jungkook tilts his head, confused, Hoseok decides to give up. He slouches, cradling his hands in his lap and lowers his gaze from Jungkook to his socked feet. He wiggles with his toes, and the white shape moves along. It almost puts a smile on his face. Almost.
He nearly forgets Jungkook is there, but then the man sits down in front of him, his back leaned against the fridge with feet propped up on the kitchen island.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks sheepishly. Hoseok doesn’t answer, the commotion of words inside his head too jumbled to grasp onto anything but silence, so that’s what he does. He swallows, “Cause it’s okay if you’re not.”
Hoseok bites at his bottom lip, stemming the bitter chuckle that tingles in the back of his throat. He dares a look at Jungkook, and he’s a little struck by what he sees. The lines of Jungkook’s face are arched and soft, as if worries bent them into something rounder and more pliable.
“Is it though, Jungkook-ah? Is it okay?” He hates how shallow his breaths get, how his voice thins out like a hair at the verge of snapping.
Jungkook’s hands find their way to Hoseok’s foot when Hoseok’s about to scramble back and leave for bed. His eyes widen with surprise while Jungkook pulls at his leg, forcing Hoseok to scoot closer.
“What are you doing?”
There’s no answer other than Jungkook’s arms enveloping Hoseok’s waist, his body swivelling towards him before he decides to wrap his legs around Hoseok’s body, too. In spite of all the sadness and despair, and all the other miserable feelings Hoseok cannot think about right now, he titters with his lips stretched out into something that resembles a smile more than not.
“Seriously, what are you doing?” He repeats, but this time, too, Jungkook doesn’t offer him an answer. Still, Hoseok rests his hands on Jungkook’s waist and lets him sway them from right to left, and then again. It feels like being on a boat while the waves ready themselves for an upcoming hurricane. But Jungkook is warm, and being so close to him, Hoseok can smell the washing powder wafted all over Jungkook’s clothes.
“Jungkook-”
“I have a performance tomorrow,” Jungkook says finally, and after the few minutes he hasn’t raised his voice, Hoseok is almost startled hearing it again, “Come. Please.”
And that’s how it starts. The something that Hoseok promised Jungkook would come, but wasn’t truly sure would. At first, it’s all innocent really. Hoseok learns how to say no to his bosses, but also to himself when all he wants to do is curl himself into a ball of tears in his bed. He learns that the dismayed looks people sneak at him at work don’t matter all that much when he has something to look forward to. Mostly, Jungkook is his something. He baits Hoseok with soft melodies and heart beating loud and clear while Hoseok’s own seems to have forgotten how to move. Whenever Hoseok comes to Jungkook’s shows, that’s the feeling he treasures the most, indulging in it religiously like his own form of addiction.
Because when Jungkook sings and the booze burns his nostrils, Hoseok can smile. Because when Jungkook pulls at the strings of his guitar, Hoseok can drink in the happiness etched into his face like a flower that belatedly bloomed into its most beautiful shape.
Because like this, with Jungkook, with music and everything that lingers in between, Hoseok can be happy.
In hindsight, Hoseok should have noticed that something was wrong. After all, he’s an adult now. He should know better than to disregard issues at hand. Then again, matters of the heart were never his strong suit, much less than words troubling him even till this day.
So when at some point in time, the giddy feeling roots inside his chest outside of scenarios when it’s Jungkook’s music igniting it, he doesn’t register the change at first. Doesn’t notice when he comes back home and a swift glance at Jungkook makes his heart flutter like a bird only now learning how to fly, always stronger and stronger the more often Jungkook looks at Hoseok.
When the feeling finally manifests under the disguise of a misplaced hand, Hoseok panics. Jungkook sits next to him on a blanket they brought from home and unfurled under the biggest tree in one of Seoul’s parks. The area is secluded enough for them to let the music play from the portable speaker Jungkook refused to leave behind, his lips drawn into a cute pout Hoseok cannot resist.
Hoseok’s mom always said that people were weak to the things they loved the most, and with a dawning realization, Hoseok discovers just how right she was.
Even though Hoseok has studied his heart diligently, he doesn’t really address in words what his feelings have been whispering to him when the night blankets the sky with black. He knows they’re there, that their voice is just as loud as his own thoughts, but what exactly are they saying? This he deliberately chooses to omit. It seems too huge and scary, and Hoseok has never been one to face those straight on.
However, he doesn’t have too much time to ponder it given the heaviness dragging Jungkook’s features as if they are about to melt. The weight has been there for a while now. Hoseok has seen it lurk in the shadows of Jungkook’s eyes as the year bloomed into another, as performances became a performance every other week, as Jungkook stopped really getting any calls back from the music companies he applied to. Everything has one simple reason.
Time.
It finally caught up with them. Jungkook is already twenty six, Hoseok already in his thirties, and their lives haven’t changed significantly from that first evening when Jungkook barged inside Hoseok’s apartment, declaring that he’d live with them. It stings, both of them hurting from different wounds, but the prickling pain gnawing at their skin aches all the same.
Jungkook is Hoseok’s hope, always has been. If Hoseok had to pinpoint what made him get out of bed, it would be the thought of seeing Jungkook all happy on stage, pouring his joy and love into the ears of people who never listened. But Hoseok did, he always has and always will, and sitting with his legs crossed in front of Jungkook, he realizes that the traces of that happiness are still clutching onto Jungkook’s face, but their hold is far too weak to keep them afloat for much longer.
Then, when Hoseok least expects it, Jungkook turns to him and smiles the most brilliant smile, the one Hoseok soaks up like oxygen. Even though the day nears an end, the sky painted pretty purple, Jungkook lips shimmer golden in Hoseok’s eyes, as though kissed by happiness.
Hoseok cocks his head at him, awaiting whatever he’s about to say.
“Hyung,” Jungook starts, scratching the skin next to the corner of his eye, “I never asked what it is you dream of.”
If it wasn’t Jungkook, the question would whip Hoseok off his feet, the concept of dreams at a place in life where both of them began to learn how to let go of them is too cruel. But it is Jungkook, and Hoseok tilts his head pensively.
“I don’t think I have anything like that. A dream,” he hums. Jungkook’s face is open, eyes widened and lips parted as he nods slightly to encourage whatever Hoseok is willing to share. He won’t pry, Hoseok knows as much. But it’s Jungkook, and Hoseok pulled down his walls a long time ago, at least when it’s Jungkook who wants to peek inside “A dream is a big thing and I think when people were busy dreaming, I was feeling too small for something that huge. So I don’t really have one. And that’s okay… I think.”
Jungkook nods, turns his upper body to grab the milk tea he and Hoseok bought on their way to the park. He drinks some, his eyes pensive as they lock on nothing in particular, losing focus. Hoseok knows it’s Jungkook’s way to delve into his thoughts, organizing them to a degree that allows him to differentiate between what’s tangled and what’s not, so he stays still until Jungkook puts down his drink and faces him again, this time with the most sincere expression. Everything looks soft on him. His now black hair softly falling onto his forehead. Lips like pillows, somehow perfectly thin and full at the same time, eyelashes flattering along with every earnest look cast on Hoseok.
“It’s completely okay, hyung,” he says finally, his voice mirroring the sincerity inside his eyes. “You didn’t miss out on anything. Sometimes dreams just hurt.”
The wind pulls at Jungkook’s hair when the words spill into the air, and for a moment, Hoseok freezes, not knowing how to react. However, what perplexes (and scares) him the most is how emotionless Jungkook’s voice sounds, carrying the words. As if he got numb from the pain he speaks about so easily.
Hoseok shudders, pretending for the wind to be the culprit.
“Are you? Are you hurting?”
Jungkook shrugs, his head downturned. From that angle, Hoseok makes out the pretty pink flushing Jungkook’s cheeks, and he locks the memory inside his heart, hides the key to it somewhere where he knows nobody but him can ever reach.
“Only sometimes.”
There’s nothing Hoseok can say to that, so he doesn’t. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, sipping at his drink as his head tilts upwards, towards the sky, watching the clouds pass by with the wind.
Hoseok tries to follow suit and relax, maybe appreciate some of the beauty the world has to offer. Instead, he feels his head turn to Jungkook when he says, “But you know, it doesn’t hurt right now.”
And maybe that’s it, not hurting when you know you should, feeling numb but alive at the same time. Maybe that’s what happiness morphs into when dreams die. Maybe Hoseok should be just happy that he didn’t fade away along with them.
And yet-
And yet, seeing Jungkook toss his head back as a giggle bubbles inside his chest seems to compensate for all of the what ifs. Hoseok is alive, right here and now, with someone he wants to live with for as long as he can.
It comes as close to a dream as it gets.
13
“So you’re saying one day I may no longer love art?” Hyemin pouts, forcing a chuckle out of Hoseok.
“No. What I said is, there might come a day when doing art is not something that you actively wish to do.”
“But isn’t it scary?”
“Starting over is always scary.”
“Was Jungkook scared?”
Hoseok laughs so loud Hyemin winces in surprise. Opposed to the general quiet inside the pc bang, the sound almost pounds in her ears.
“No. Or maybe he was, but I doubt it’s the kind of fear you’re thinking about.”
14
“I’m done.”
Hoseok jerks his head up from the small table he’s been hunching over. The surface is approximately the size of a small suitcase, which forced Hoseok to heap up most of the documents he brought home from work in the right side of the table, while the left is occupied with the sheet of paper he’s been skimming over for a while now. His back hurts, and his fingers feel numb from all the writing. But he still finds it in himself to pay Jungkook the attention he deserves.
“What do you mean?” Hoseok glances at him curiously, grateful for a distraction. Jungkook’s face doesn’t display much more emotion than a certain sense of solemnness, and Hoseok frowns at the sight, pushing himself up to the sofa.
“I’m done. I didn’t make it. It’s okay.”
It almost pierces right through Hoseok how sharply Jungkook wields his words. That’s when Hoseok realizes they’ve been piling up somewhere in the back of Jungkook’s head for a while now until they spilled all over the floor.
“JK,” Hoseok drags the letters in the way he always does whenever he wants to win a smile or a glance, and Jungkook doesn’t disappoint him, smiling softly at the sound of the nickname. Hoseok nudges his side, but instead of more smiles, Jungkook simply slings his arm around Hoseok and pulls him closer, “You can still keep trying.”
Jungkook shrugs under him, and Hoseok puts his arms on Jungkook’s chest to steady himself. He can feel Jungkook’s heart singing underneath his palms, and just this, the fact that even though Jungkook is giving up, the music still throbs inside him, makes everything not as scary as it initially felt.
“I don’t want to anymore,” Jungkook puffs the words out with a long exhale. He sounds tired, exhausted even. Hoseok clenches his fists around the fabric of Jungkook’s t-shirt, “Besides… I- I think I found a new dream anyway.”
“A new one?” Hoseok muses.
“One that doesn’t hurt at all. It’s quite the opposite.” The way Jungkook’s voice brightens up, vowels longer and consonants sharper, is all Hoseok needs to know he’s smiling.
“Do you want to tell me what it is?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath while Hoseok positions his legs on the sofa, now curled up on his side. He feels so good he could fall asleep right here. The thing that brings him back to reality is Jungkook’s fingers slipping under Hoseok’s hoodie to then draw leisure circles on his bare skin. Hoseok shudders, but snuggles up closer, wanting to give some of his warmth to Jungkook.
“I can’t believe you don’t already know.”
“How would I?” Hoseok asks, more confused than not. He attempts to push himself back up in search for answers, but Jungkook keeps him steady in his place.
“How are you so clueless?” Jungkook whines, and Hoseok untangles his arms from around Jungkook, pushing against his chest to look right in his eyes. He subconsciously pouts at the mirth clawing at Jungkook’s features, because- well, Hoseok doesn’t want to be reminded of things he doesn’t want to acknowledge. Call him stubborn.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s you, hyung,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. Hoseok blinks and blinks. and waits, and counts his breaths, getting lost somewhere between three and five, and doesn’t believe anything his senses are so willingly providing his brain. The reaction rids Jungkook of his previous bravado, his eyes softening as he swallows, and plants his hand onto Hoseok’s cheek. First the touch is dazzling, all alarms shrieking under his skull, but then Jungkook caresses his face so gently that Hoseok’s own heartbeat drowns out everything else, “You are my dream.”
Is this-
Is he-
What the-
“I just want to be with you,” Jungkook continues, “That’s all.”
He delivers the words with a quick smile, a little strained at the ends, and Hoseok can’t think. He doesn’t remember a single thing, not even his own name, not to mention what it is you say when the love of your life, your soulmate, actually reciprocates whatever crazy feelings he so one-sidedly harboured.
But it seems like his lips have a brain on their own when they open, and Hoseok almost tastes the letters that are about to emerge.
“Then do it. Be with me.”
Jungkook’s eyes flare up before he leans into the little space left between him and Hoseok. The last inches that Jungkook so crudely allows to separate them when he suddenly stills just a finger away feel like hell on earth to Hoseok. So he does what he’s best at- he skips the ordeal of talking and acts instead.
He kisses Jungkook, and Jungkook kisses him back.
And the rest? The rest is history.
15
“Dreams die, and sometimes, they reappear or face us in a form we couldn’t possibly imagine. We dream, and dream, and sometimes lose all of that just to cross off our days without much dreaming left inside of us. But we live on. And in the end, that’s all that matters, Hyemin-ah. That we live.”