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Hoseok is quiet. His friends used to joke and push and prod about how rare that was, how Hoseok was always running his mouth about something, which is funny because Hoseok could tell they were kind of serious about it, often tired of him, but now all they do is ask how he is and what’s going on and what’s on his mind, the most banal of questions to elicit a response, but the questions make Hoseok so mad he can't even look at them. Can’t stand their faces, can’t even see straight. He doesn’t reply.
Because now he’s always quiet. What’s there left to talk about? The world fucking ended. It’s over. Done. It’s not quiet. It’s silence.
The people left around him don’t want to leave him alone, so there’s someone always there. They don’t even let him shower alone, insist that he leaves the door unlocked and cracked. They do all of this talking around it, but never to his face. Seokjin wants to feed Hoseok til he bursts, and Jimin wants to cuddle together under the blankets with a video on his phone. Taehyung tries to get Hoseok to engage with whatever craft of the week he brings along, and Jeongguk plays the baby card to try and lure Hoseok out of his apartment with him, reminding Hoseok of all the times he promised to take Jeongguk here or there.
Yoongi joins him in silent fury more days than not, sometimes for Hoseok, sometimes on account of his own woes, but he’s just as bad as the rest of them about hovering, and more annoying about it the way he’ll reach out and pinch his sides if Hoseok refuses to look at him. If it were anyone else, Hoseok would bite their fingers.
Then there’s Namjoon.
Namjoon’s a combination of all of it; he pushes as often as he gives, unsure of this in the same ways he’s unsure of anything, and then there’s the added layer of it being Hoseok who this happened to.
Because everyone knows Namjoon is in love with Hoseok; Hoseok knows it. It’s that thing that no one explicitly talks about, but also everyone jokes about. It’s not new - the novelty of the idea wore off and now people mention it casually like it doesn’t bother Namjoon, and when the world collapsed right under Hoseok’s feet, it was Namjoon who took care of the logistics of everything.
The flowers and the memorial plates and the will. The fucking wills. Plural. First his parents, then his sister’s. Less than two weeks apart.
Bills start coming in. Debts that Hoseok had no idea his family had, because they never talked about that stuff and his parents surely expected to live another twenty years at least. It’s Namjoon who silently collects the paperwork, who keeps it in his own home away from Hoseok’s eyes.
They’ve never been on a date. They’ve never kissed. Just Namjoon is in love with Hoseok, and when his entire family dies one September, he’s the one who deals with it. He acts like - like Hoseok’s husband. More than a best friend. More than a boyfriend. Suddenly he knows more about Hoseok’s family than he does. He goes through family photos to select the ones used for the service. He guides and advises people on food to prepare.
Hoseok didn’t have a big family; his parents were only children and his grandparents on both sides are long gone. There are some distantly related cousins who come to the service, but it’s mostly his friends and his sister’s friends, some of whom don’t show up two weeks later because the stigma or superstition of how she died still persists apparently, even among their generation.
Out of everything, he is the most mad about his sister.
After being fired and the grace period from bill collectors of a new death wears off, Hoseok knows he’s fucked. He just doesn’t care. They can drag his body out of his apartment and throw him in the street. What’s it matter? When that day comes, it comes. For now, he’s going to sit in his room and not care.
“Hyung,” Jeongguk says softly next to him. Before, Hoseok spent so much time trying to avoid Jeongguk ever sounding like that, a shy kid with a lot of social anxiety. “Hyung, when are you going to go outside again?”
Hoseok hasn’t left his apartment since the services. Didn’t even attend the meeting with the bank about the house, the first asset of his family’s that been seized. Why would he go to that?
Hoseok doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. He’s been facing the wall that his bed is pushed up against since he heard someone enter his room. Jeongguk places a tentative hand on his back for a moment. Jeongguk isn’t Taehyung or Jimin - unlikely to foist cuddling on him in the guise of making him feel better.
“Hyung.” There’s a definite wobble to Jeongguk’s voice. If he were to turn over, he’s sure that his dongsaeng’s face would be wet. “Hyung, can I hear your voice?”
And that does hurt - Hoseok’s been suspended in grief that ranged from mind numbingly nothing to tunnel visioned anger. He doesn’t often just feel sad or hurt, but hearing Jeongguk’s simple request hurts.
But Hoseok doesn’t acquiesce. Doesn’t have it in his body to shift over and hug Jeongguk to him. Definitely doesn’t have it in him to tell him it’s gonna be okay.
Because time feels different when you don’t leave one place, Hoseok isn’t sure when it is that his friends come into his room, all of them gathered at one time, with boxes in their hands. They don’t even bother to explain or console him, they just start packing things up. Hoseok hears it happen, turns over to watch. His body aches from being so still for so long.
In his head, he’s screaming. Out loud, there’s nothing but quiet murmurs from his friends about where to put what. They open his drawers, fold and put away clothing. Tear down the posters and framed photos from his walls. Stack books on top of old CDs and carefully bag up his laptop.
When he sits up, he’s a little dizzy. Feet are freezing, which is part of why he stumbles when he tries to get out of bed. He can hardly feel them. Seokjin catches him before he tumbles face first, but it’s Namjoon who takes him from their hyung and lifts him like he’s nothing, whisking him away out of the bedroom and into the tiny living room.
It’s already packed up.
Kitchen too, behind it.
Hoseok just stares at Namjoon as he’s placed on a couch (that’s still there, at least). Stares and stares and wants to ask but won’t. Namjoon sighs, as if understanding the world, or at least all of it when it comes to Hoseok.
“You’re coming home with me. We got a storage unit for a lot of your things, but some of it will go with Seokjin too. Some of the things that - we aren’t sure if you’ll need right away or not.”
Hoseok flinches; sure, he was ready to be dragged out of his apartment. He didn’t even pay last month’s rent, even though he technically had the funds for it but wouldn’t in the future. It’s different knowing that your friends are proactively moving you out because they know too you can’t be there anymore.
Hoseok opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He grips Namjoon’s sleeve in his fist and tugs at him. Namjoon stares so intently at him, looking for it. Any cue.
“It was me or Yoongi.”
Yoongi pokes his head out of Hoseok’s room at the mention of his name, or to check on them, unsure. Hoseok frowns, thinking of his little pinching fingers that he gives instead of hugs.
Hoseok tugs at Namjoon’s sleeve again, lip trembling, head heavy. He lets it go, falling further and further forward until it rests on Namjoon’s chest. It extends through his whole body, the shaking - first his hands and arms, then his chest and legs. Namjoon wraps him in a hug, tugs him closer.
Namjoon of a couple of months ago wouldn’t have dared, but Namjoon today kisses the side of Hoseok’s head freely. “I got you,” he says. “I got this.”
Living with Namjoon is different; Hoseok can’t grieve in the same ways with another person around, which is strange to think because before there were always people around too. It’s different in that Hoseok doesn’t have designated spaces anymore. Doesn’t have his own bed or his armchair or the space to wallow alone in the bathroom. Now that it’s not his apartment, he feels like he can’t just take up those spaces for indefinite amounts of time. Joon has work, he needs to shower and get ready at a certain time. Needs to be in bed to get the right amount of sleep.
The other man doesn’t seem to mind that Hoseok just moves from spot to spot, sagging where he lands and watching Namjoon continue his life. Watches him make dinner for two (or three or four if their friends stop by) but scraping most of it into leftover containers, watches him bring home an extra coffee just for it to go cold, or watching the (sometimes elaborate) one-sided conversations Namjoon has for the both of them.
Hoseok comes to one evening when Namjoon is talking about all the wonders of tofu and for the first time in a while wants to sit up and ask what day and month it is. He feels at his hair, way longer than he’s ever had it before. Can’t remember what it looks like right now; when did he last look in a mirror?
“Hey, sweetheart,” Namjoon says, adding his hand on top of Hoseok’s at the back of his head. “You there?”
Sweetheart. Honey. Baby.
Namjoon has taken to calling him all of these things. It’s like - now that Hoseok doesn’t talk and can’t say anything back, Namjoon has the bravery to say anything and everything he’d like to. He always greets Hoseok when he comes in the door by saying, “Hey, honey.”
When he leaves, Hoseok almost expects a kiss on the cheek from him, the way Namjoon loiters and hovers, shuffling his feet like a boy at the school yard.
It’s cataloging all the changes in Namjoon but also all of his wonderful habits at home that wakes Hoseok up. Maybe when he’s gone at work Hoseok tunes out still, but when Namjoon’s there and they’re both awake, Hoseok likes to try and guess what time it is based on how Namjoon sits on the couch, like an elaborate dance between him and fatigue that shows itself in posture. He watches Namjoon make tea, green tea that Hoseok shouldn’t be able to smell as strongly as he does, and dump out the leaves in the sink that make patterns and sometimes pictures. People read tea leaves for fortunes, don’t they?
Hoseok thinks about asking Joon to read his future in the gunk at the bottom of their sink. It looks like mud. It’s ugly.
Instead, Namjoon asks Hoseok questions that he knows he won’t get an answer to. What should we have for dinner? Do you want to come on a walk with me? If I bring home a stray cat, what will you do?
Some of it is teasing, some of it sounds like Namjoon’s at his last wit with him. Most days, his face keeps its serene and thoughtful mask. Some days though - it slips, and Hoseok thinks that Namjoon must regret taking him in, must wonder why he ever liked Hoseok in the first place.
And what’s there left to love now? Just some mute boy who can’t get out of bed because his family died, because someone broke into his childhood home and killed his parents like some sort of horror movie, and then his sister decided to follow them a week and a half later.
Sometimes he can sense it on the tip of people’s tongues; the just-get-over-it sentiment. Or maybe a just-don’t-think-about-it sentiment. Yoongi, long one of Hoseok’s closest confidants, seems to get the most frustrated with him when he visits Joon's apartment and Hoseok still refuses to talk to him.
“This is bullshit, Hob-ah. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asks, pacing the floor in front of him. “Why are you doing this to me? To Joon? I know - I know what happened was terrible, Hobs, I know. But it’s been months now, and you haven’t said a word.”
When Min Yoongi cries, shit gets real. “I’m scared,” he admits, voice wobbling and lip trembling. Hoseok stands to hug him, but Yoongi pushes him back, makes him stand toe-to-toe with him.
“Please, Hob-ah. Please say something.”
He doesn’t.
When Yoongi leaves that night, he doesn’t come back. Hoseok thinks he will eventually, but when the next group dinner at Joon’s includes everyone but Yoongi, he knows it will be awhile.
Namjoon travels for work rarely, but when he does, he’s gone for anywhere from three nights to a week. Hoseok was so out of it when he first moved in (was moved in), that he wasn’t aware of the trip that Namjoon had to take shortly after. He knows Seokjin came by to check on him, remembers Jeonggukkie bringing him food and playing with his hair for a long time.
Things are different now. Hoseok waits for Namjoon to be home with him. They eat together, even if Hoseok doesn’t eat as much as Joon puts on his plate, and they go upstairs to the rooftop garden that is less a garden and more two potted plants that Namjoon fusses over. Namjoon looks so happy every time Hoseok goes up with him, holding his hand because it feels weird in the outside air. Holds his hand when they walk back down the stairs and Namjoon runs his fingers through his hair once before opening the door, as if that’s part of how the door needs to be opened.
Now, Namjoon’s been gone two nights already and Hoseok is so terrified he’s made himself sick. He’s locked himself in the bathroom and he’s shaking so much that his back aches from it. His phone isn’t with him, but even if he had it, who would he call? Yoongi doesn’t want to see him and Jimin was already by earlier in the day.
It’s just that - when the sun goes down and everything is dark, every creak out in the hallway sounds menacing, and it sounds like there are footsteps actually inside the apartment at one point. Hoseok ran as fast as he could and hasn’t left the bathroom since.
It’s Taehyung who finds him the next day, and Hoseok vomits up bile when the knocks at the door start. “Hyung?”
It’s Taehyung. Hoseok knows it’s Taehyung; knows that voice anywhere, it is so dear to him, but he’s so tired and so scared and doesn’t even know how long he’s been in the room. “Hyung, are you alright? Please open up?”
The knocking gets more insistent. Louder and louder. More and more. Hoseok cries but keeps his hands wrapped around the locked doorknob and hopes he’s safe. Taehyung screams on the other side of it, and all Hoseok hears is his sister’s screams.
They have to break down the door; paramedics come and sedate Hoseok. Want to take him to a hospital. Medical hospital? Hoseok isn’t sure. Maybe a psychiatric hospital. He’s still shaking when they put in a new IV, now for hydration. Hoseok tries to get away from the strangers in the apartment, tries to crawl off the bed but Jeongguk pushes him down every time he tries to fold himself up.
Jimin is having a very loud conversation with one of the paramedics because Hoseok wouldn’t answer any of his questions, and Jimin has long since lost his patience with dealing with the person. “He doesn’t speak. What part of that don’t you understand? Are you a medical professional or not?”
Hoseok is pretty sure they’re going to forcibly remove him from Namjoon’s apartment, and Hoseok can’t stand the thought of outside air. Tastes more bile rising up, but Jeongguk’s holding him down so he chokes on it.
“Gguk. Gguk!” a voice yells over Jimin’s. More hands brush over his and Jeongguk’s, and Yoongi’s there, helping him sit up. Hoseok can’t on his own. He’s shaking so much that he’s sure the needle will slip from his arm; he’s already bruising around it because they had so much trouble placing it.
Yoongi hasn't been there for - at least a month, maybe more - but he lets Hoseok push his face into his neck, lets him teeth there in comfort. If Hoseok could, he’d open his mouth and ask for Namjoon. Ask what day it is. When’s he coming back?
He’s there by nightfall. The paramedics leave, only after Seokjin signs an extensive amount of paperwork, and before Hoseok can see or hear Namjoon, he realizes he’s there because Seokjin says something about, “You’re his medical proxy, Joon-ah. Why didn’t they contact you?”
Namjoon pushes them all aside and hauls Hoseok into his lap before wrapping his hands around his face and looking him over. The other man is teary eyed, red faced. Looks more upset now than he did in the early days of dealing with Hoseok.
Hoseok still shakes. It feels like vertigo now, can’t imagine what it will feel like to stop. Sometimes, when he thinks it’s almost over, his whole body shudders in phantom movement and then it starts again.
He is so sore.
Namjoon pushes Hoseok’s face down into his neck; Hoseok hears himself whining now, and everyone in the room looks appropriately shocked. Yoongi looks close to tears again, and Jimin has to leave the room. Namjoon tries to wave at them - to leave? - and they do. Seokjin even closes the door behind him.
“Honey.” Namjoon runs his hands up and down his arms, as if trying to warm him. Hoseok shivers. It feels different from the terrified trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should have known.”
The collar of Namjoon’s shirt is wet from Hoseok’s tears. In Namjoon’s apartment, the bed is fixed to the floor on a platform. In his parents home, there was only enough space for his mother to hide three-fourths of her body.
“I should have known you’d be scared. Shit. Hoseok. I’m so sorry.” Namjoon hoists Hoseok’s wilting body a little higher up in his arms. “Fuck. I would have been scared shitless too.”
Namjoon carries him out into the living room where their friends are still gathered and puts him in between Taehyung and Jeongguk on the couch. Hoseok’s throat stopped making that wretched sound at least, but he feels like sandpaper rubbing on silk when his two younger friends try to cover as much of his body up with theirs.
Things feel quiet but lively after that; Namjoon takes time off of work and there’s an up-tick in visitors again. Hoseok slept for about two days straight after Namjoon’s return, and since then he’s felt in a clearer state of mind, almost embarrassed about what happened.
Their bathroom is missing a door still, so it’s hard to forget.
Going to a therapist had initially been put off since Hoseok’s communication style was different these days, and what with the whole going out into the world not being a thing. But after Hoseok’s minor breakdown, Namjoon sets him up with a doctor who video calls on the computer and uses integrated chat and different features to enable Hoseok to interact, even if he mostly still sits there and listens.
Part of the problem - so people like to say, anyway - is that Hoseok isn’t used to being alone anymore. Sure, he’s on his own during the work day, but there’s a defined timeline to it. Namjoon works, comes home, and they spend the rest of their time together.
He starts going out more outside of work; Hoseok can tell he doesn’t always want to, much to his own amusement, but Namjoon is nothing if not dedicated. He checks in with Hoseok before and after, and Hoseok occasionally plays the game of, oh - you were gone? I hadn’t noticed - with him. Namjoon’s pout is enough to make him smile most days now.
Hoseok starts cooking again. It’s better than Namjoon’s. And he cleans the apartment. He can at least be useful in that way. Feels like a little housewife, but doesn’t hate it. Starts going to the rooftop with friends when they visit so they know he’s trying. At night, he still gets paranoid alone. He must be working through those stages of grief, because he knows he used to have moments alone no matter how much his friends tried to ensure otherwise. Would sit in his apartment alone when his friends were all too busy to babysit. But now. Now he’s aware of everything again. The fuzz has disappeared from every day thoughts. Still doesn’t think about - the past - but. He thinks about what he’s going to make for dinner, and he thinks about Yoongi’s upcoming birthday.
He thinks about Namjoon, and how Namjoon used to be in love with him.
He doesn’t like to think about who he was before, but it’s hard to push away every thought. Remembers when they’d all go out together and Hoseok would teasingly dance up on his friend, one hand fisted in the back of Namjoon’s collar while the other looked totally zoned out, mouth open. Hoseok might push his mouth shut with the tip of his finger. Might wink. Might let other boys and girls dance up on him too, but at the end of the night always found Namjoon to curl up under his arm and walk home with.
Now, Hoseok can’t tell if Namjoon’s feelings have changed. On days when Hoseok is “too quiet” still, Namjoon will press their bodies together from toes to shoulder at the very least, often choosing to put Hoseok in his lap instead. Sometimes, Hoseok latches on with his arms and legs and refuses to let go, and Namjoon will just laugh and huff as he stands from the couch and lets Hoseok hang on him, putting on a show of brushing his teeth around Hoseok’s head as he huffs a laugh into his neck.
“How come you and Namjoon never before?” Taehyung asks, pushing Hoseok’s hair back from where he’s styled it for the day. For fun, he said.
People love to ask anything and everything they want when they’re sure not to hear an answer they dislike.
Of course, a question like this is harmless to Taehyung. Now, or then. Hoseok knows he is genuinely curious. Hoseok shrugs, pouring the tea he made for them when the timer goes off. The only person he ever talked to about Namjoon was Yoongi, and it was always an awkward position for his friend because he was equally close to both Hoseok and Namjoon. Despite knowing how they feel about each other, or perhaps in light of it, Yoongi is the one who didn’t want Hoseok to move in with Namjoon. Doesn’t bother airing his criticism of it anymore.
It’s always Taehyung who jokes lightly about it, referring to their situation as a marriage. “How else do you think Namjoon took over all of his affairs, huh?” he quips when it’s him, Yoongi, and Jimin on the roof one grey morning.
“As if Namjoon would ever quietly marry someone,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s too much of a romantic. He’d want the whole thing.”
Taehyung shakes his head. “No way! That’s not hyung’s style at all. He would absolutely do it silently. Quietly. Because he’s a romantic. Everyone knew he was in love with Hoseok even though he never said. I bet he filled out the paperwork and filed it secretly!”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s not how getting married works, Tae-ah.”
“Let me live, hyung. Besides - everything is silent in their relationship now. It makes sense!”
Even if he minded, Hoseok couldn’t protest all the jabs. As is, he isn’t bothered. He owes Namjoon a lot more than he can ever repay him. Namjoon deserves a real partner, so he does feel bad for him. For taking away vital time in his adulthood when he could meet someone new. Hoseok knows he’s - “getting better” - can feel the itch on the tip of his tongue more these days, but that doesn’t mean he will ever be able to undo the past year.
Namjoon likes to lie on his back and read with a book poised above his face, one arm behind his head and his ankles crossed. Hoseok throws himself on top of him, nudging the bottom of the book with the top of his head until he can get in front of it in Namjoon’s sight line.
He smiles, laughs. “Hey, baby.” Runs a hand through his hair. “What are we - ah. Ha. Ha.”
Hoseok noses from the base of his throat up to his ear and back. Drags his lips along like a kiss, even if he’s not kissing. When he stops and looks down at Namjoon, face directly above his, it’s all red and dazed looking.
Before Hoseok can lean down, Namjoon grabs him by the back of his neck. It’s the first time his touch could be perceived as rough, and it jars Hoseok out of his tunnel visioned need.
Namjoon looks - intense. People who don’t know him would say mad. Hoseok knows he’s not mad, but he’s not the shy bumbling mess he was a second ago either. His eyes dilate as he takes him in, hand fisted in the back of his hair.
“No,” he says, voice low, closer to a growl. “If you want this, then you’re going to ask for it.”
Hoseok’s lips immediately part - to say something. It just doesn’t come out. Of course. Please, he mouths. Please.
He tries to drop down using all his weight, but Namjoon swings them up into a seated position. “No. Hoseok.”
He moves his hands to grab both sides of his face; Hoseok thinks he’s going to shake him for a moment. “Ask,” he says again.
Hoseok squirms in his hold. He wants to. It should be so easy. He wants to kiss Namjoon so badly, it should be enough. He’s crying because he’s saying yes over and over again but the words don’t come out.
Namjoon sighs. He kisses him on his forehead, as if that’s meant to be enough to placate him, then stands, refusing to let Hoseok cling to him any more at present. He’s leaving - walking away - and Hoseok’s lips don’t just open, they crack.
“J-Joon.” It’s so, so faint. Hoseok hides his face in his arms when he hears it, but he knows Namjoon heard it too because the footsteps stop.
“What? What did you say?” Namjoon asks, spinning on his heel and recovering the lost ground between them in two quick strides. He grabs at Hoseok’s arms, pulls him close so that Hoseok has nowhere else to look but his chest. “Say it again, sweetheart.”
Hoseok breathes in. Why couldn’t his heartbeat be enough? All of those times that Namjoon would look at him and just know what he would say in a situation, like when a certain song would play on Namjoon’s playlist and he would look up and narrow his eyes, “Not a word,” because he knew how badly Hoseok wanted to call the group fake Epik High.
“Baby. Hoseok. Look at me.” Namjoon tries to maneuver Hoseok’s chin in his hand. “Say it again.”
He smiles. Soft and tentative, like most of his smiles. Hoseok never worried about falling in love with Namjoon, because he knew he had the time and luxury to do so. Maybe it was selfish to make him wait so long, certainly selfish now to try and give him this, only after everything that Hoseok’s put him through. He’s definitely not the person Namjoon fell in love with, and is Hoseok in love with the other man now? Hoseok doesn’t know. He’s not sure his chewed up insides will ever feel love for anyone the way he felt it for his family, the only love he had that he knew exactly what it was. Is he in love with Namjoon now? Was he always?
Does it matter?
“Joon,” he whispers. His voice sounds - awful. Not his own. An old chainsmoker’s vocal chords stuffed into his body.
Namjoon’s smile transforms, and Hoseok can feel the way he’s holding himself back and in, the coiling of his muscles under Hoseok, like he’s ready to launch himself and run laps around the room like an excited puppy.
“There you are.” Namjoon rocks them back and forth. “There you are.”
No one wants their first kiss to be this, wet and messy in the not fun kind of way, but Hoseok croaks his name again and Namjoon looks so happy. “Please,” he says. Hoseok wonders how long it will take for him to be able to speak at a normal volume again.
He doesn’t really want to find out, but his choices are limited now.
So they kiss, and it’s certainly a long time coming. It has familiarity it shouldn’t. It feels like in sickness and in health already.
Don’t leave me. Don’t ever fucking leave me, is what Hoseok would say if he could, and he doesn’t say it because he lacks the physical ability.
Namjoon holds him especially close all night long. Radiates joy and enthusiasm that Hoseok doesn’t feel, even if he is happy about finally closing that distance between them. When Hoseok crawls into bed that night, he pulls and pulls at Namjoon until the other lies flat on top of him, crushing him yes, but Hoseok winds his hands around Namjoon’s neck and refuses to let him go.
It’s the best hiding spot.
In the morning, when he feels Namjoon start to rise, he does it again, and Namjoon, huffing, laughs as he maneuvers them both off the bed and up. Hoseok stays in his arms, arms and legs wrapped around his waist as Namjoon walks carefully into the kitchen with him.
“How long are you going to play koala with me?” he asks, but he sounds in far too pleasant of a mood to let Hoseok go.
Yoongi stops by that next day. Rather suspiciously. Hoseok wonders if Namjoon told anyone about him speaking, as if saying his name a couple of times is speaking.
“Hob-yah,” he says. They’re sitting in far too much sun for Yoongi to feel comfortable. “I miss you.”
If Hoseok felt like talking he would say, I know. I miss you. I miss me.
I miss them.
Yoongi settles for Hoseok throwing his head in his lap though, up until Yoongi’s cheeks are red enough to roast their dinner on. Hoseok holds his hand when they go back downstairs, but bypasses the floor they live on to pull Yoongi down into the ground floor.
At the front door, he hesitates, but looks back at Yoongi to see him school a look of shock on his face, then pushes the door open.
They don’t go anywhere. Hoseok just leads them out, then stands dumbly in the middle of the sidewalk with Yoongi’s hand in his. If he can’t give his best friend his voice yet, he can give him this.
Yoongi takes it, and he takes more by gently pulling Hoseok a little further down the sidewalk. Stops to silently ask if it’s alright, and when Hoseok doesn’t give any indication, Yoongi pulls him away further and further.
They go around the block, then Hoseok takes over and pulls Yoongi back inside behind him. He expected his heart to be racing, to feel a little sick out there in the world where his mom no longer lives, but instead - he just feels tired.
If Namjoon kept quiet about his first breakthrough, then Yoongi surely did not about his own. “Hyung, do you want to get coffee with me this weekend?” Jimin asks, tugging on Hoseok’s shirt. “Like our old coffee dates?”
Or - “Hyung, let’s go to the arcade!”
Maybe, “Hyung, I know you wanna see the new Marvel movie!”
Hoseok doesn't feel excited about any of those things necessarily, but finds himself indifferent to going. His dad isn’t on the other end of a phone call and his sister doesn’t live over by his favorite park anymore. He’s not going to go out and come back home to some banchan on his doorstep from his mom.
Acceptance.
Or whatever.
It’s Namjoon who seems the most nervous about him leaving the apartment more, other than therapy which is actually the first thing Hoseok goes out for. Which, figures. The second, to see his family at their plots. The third. Well. If it counts, the third is when Namjoon goes out for a bike ride and Hoseok tries to hang on in front. They topple over more than once with a nice scraped knee to show for it, but Hoseok laughs and Namjoon looks so good with his hair ruffled from the wind.
“You still love me,” Hoseok actually whispers. He has control back over his voice, even if he’s not sure he’ll ever feel like talking all that much again. Not like he used to. Not like his friends will have only in their memories.
It sounds like a question, even if Hoseok doesn’t mean it to. He knows.
Namjoon bought reclining lawn chairs for the rooftop. It’s nice and sunny out, and unlike Yoongi, Namjoon delights in being outdoors no matter the weather. Even though there’s two of them, Hoseok crowds into one with the other boy.
“Even though?”
“Even more, you mean,” Namjoon says, and pulls him down.
Turns out that Taehyung is right; Namjoon is more of a silent romantic than a big showie romantic. It might have to do with who he’s in love with - Hoseok - and the fact that Hoseok uses maybe a dozen or two words a week - but people might be shocked to learn how little they need to say out loud.
Words aren’t what matter.
On the day that his parents’ murderer is arrested, it’s quiet in their apartment. Neither of them say anything. The news says it all. Hoseok can’t imagine what is left to say.