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The first time Hoseok sees him, he thinks he's dreaming. Maybe it's heat stroke, or maybe he didn't actually land that back handspring and he's concussed on the ground. He sees bubblegum pink first, a halo of fluffy candy hair. Then golden tan skin barely hidden by a white tank top and hot pink shorts that are small enough to show off muscular thighs. The baby blue roller skates on the man's feet propel him past the square where Hoseok is standing, breathless and in awe, and straight into his fantasies.
Hoseok can barely breathe, barely move his body into the next movements and steps because an angel just passed by and he can still see cotton candy pink receding into the distance.
By the time he finishes, accepting cheers and pocket change from the small crowd around him, too much time has passed. Sweat drips down his lower back and plasters his bangs to his forehead, his heart hammers in his chest and it's not just from dancing. It feels almost like a dream, something his mind conjured up. The man appeared and vanished into the distance so quickly. Hoseok has been busking in this plaza for weeks at this point and it's the first time he's seen him. It seems unlikely that he'll see him again.
☼
"And then," Yoongi intones, punctuating his words with a jab of his spoon in Hoseok's direction, "he had the nerve to tell me that listening to Kanye West is unethical."
Hoseok makes a sympathetic noise, fiddling with his own spoon in the giant ice cream sundae between them. Yoongi is eating the majority, stuffing his cheeks with whipped cream and brownie bits between words.
"And then!" he crows, cheeks puffed up. "He started kitchen sinking when I mentioned what's in his Spotify Wrapped! Suddenly it's hyung, it's pointless to separate whites and darks in the wash, they all go to the same place anyway. And then a hyung, butter doesn't belong in the fridge, it's fine on the counter."
The most impressive thing about Yoongi's irate rambling is his very excellent impression of his boyfriend. He sounds exactly like Namjoon as he mimics him, twirling his spoon in the air. "I'm sorry, hyung," Hoseok offers, watching Yoongi stab his spoon angrily into the mountain of ice cream. "Did you guys make up?"
Yoongi huffs. "Of course not, you know how stubborn Namjoon is." He scowls down at the melting sundae. “You’re lucky you don’t have a boyfriend, Hoseok-ah, it’s too much work.”
Hoseok grimaces at that, thinking a boyfriend would still be worth it. Maybe one with candy pink hair...
Yoongi huffs and continues. "He topped all this off by telling me I — and get this — use too much tongue."
"Oh." Hoseok blinks at him. "Well that's not true."
"Thank you, Seok Seok-ah, I am very aware it's untrue." He licks his spoon and flashes a gummy grin. "I threw his stupid soft butter at him."
Hoseok chuckles, zoning out a little as Yoongi continues on, his gaze sweeping over the plaza. There's a flash of sequins sparkling in the sunlight across the square. His eyes widen as he takes in the angel , his angel, cotton candy hair styled off his forehead and a green sequined jacket dangling around his elbows. Hoseok didn't think he'd see him again — and here he is. He’s standing in line at a food stall, close enough that if Hoseok were to shout he could hear him. But what would he say? He doesn’t even know his name. He watches, feeling a little helpless, as the man accepts a skewer of grilled meat from the vendor and moves away.
Their eyes meet as he turns in the opposite direction, gazes locking as the man brings the skewer up to his lips. The moment feels charged, weighted, Hoseok sure that, even from this distance, he can see something, maybe a teasing sparkle, in his eyes. The skewer lowers, just enough for him to see a dazzling smile, before the man turns to skate away.
Entire body tensing, Hoseok has the sudden urge to leap to his feet. He could vault over the little barrier separating their table from the rest of the sidewalk and chase after him. It would be easy, maybe even impressive — but Yoongi is still talking —
"...saying I stretched out his shirt but it was my shirt in the first place!"
— and already the man is disappearing around a corner.
"Are you listening to me?"
Hoseok snaps his head back around and slumps in his seat, nodding dejectedly. "Yes, hyung." He glances to the side again and the skater is gone.
☼
The new sneakers Hoseok bought aren't fully broken in yet. He honestly probably should have waited a little longer before wearing them for an entire day, but he's impatient. Though the worst part is the laces, they're stiff and awkward and keep coming untied. This isn’t the first time he’s found himself kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk to tie them again. He freezes, fingers gripping aglets, as he spots a flash of baby blue in front of him. He lifts his head so fast his neck cracks.
And there he is, in a pair of pastel yellow overalls. Hoseok's mouth runs dry and his eyes nearly bug out of his head as he takes him in. What seems like kilometers of muscular golden tan skin is revealed, gleaming in the sunlight, because he is definitely not wearing a shirt. He looks gorgeous, sun-kissed, a smile on glossy plush lips as he glides past.
Hoseok gets a full view, the whole experience , as his eyes trail from pastel blue skates to perfectly-coiffed candy locks. His thighs, on display with how short his overalls are, flex as he moves. His arms, wrists adorned with colorful bracelets, swing as he moves, catching the sunlight and nearly blinding Hoseok where he kneels, gaping. He’s with someone else, a tall man with curly brown hair, the two of them laughing together as they skate. As Hoseok stares, the pink haired man turns his way and their eyes lock. The man’s lips curve up into a small smile and one of his hands lifts, just a little, fingers wiggling in a tiny wave.
Hoseok could run after him, he's not going that fast, he could catch him this time.
But Hoseok seems to have suddenly completely forgotten how to tie his shoes, his fingers feeling numb and tangling in the laces. He feels like Namjoon — who embarrassingly didn't learn to tie his shoes until high school. He should remind Yoongi of that, for more fodder for their argument. He tries to focus, his fingers feeling numb and wooden as he mumbles about bunny ears and bows. By the time he manages to knot his laces into some form of a bow and spring to his feet, his bubblegum prince is gone.
☼
Maybe it's just horribly bad luck, or bad karma. Hoseok tries to think back, tries to figure out what he could have done to bring this on himself. Did he litter? Is it because of the prank he played on Yoongi where he accidentally slipped that red shirt in with his white laundry? That was honestly extremely funny and Yoongi discovered he looked good in pink, though he still won’t admit it. Was that really a crime? Hoseok thinks not. He must have done something, though, because this is starting to get ridiculous.
He has a regular job, so busking in the plaza on weekends isn't really for the bit of money he makes. It's for the fun, the enjoyment of dancing for an audience, of feeling the beat move through his body. He has his regular watchers, people that come back each weekend to see him pop and lock and roll his hips.
And that makes new faces, especially ones that linger, stick out even more.
He's halfway through a new bit of choreography when it happens. His shirt is sticking to his skin at the small of his back and his hair is in his eyes, but Troye Sivan pumps through his speakers and Hoseok's body moves with the music like water. There's no need to even think as he flows through each movement, turns and pivots.
It's when he finishes a turn that he sees him.
It's the skater, his angel, standing at the edge of the crowd. He's wearing his roller skates but he's not moving, he's stopped to watch. The sun seems to illuminate him, his pink hair bright and captivating in the crowd. His head is cocked to the side and there's a slight smile on his plush, glossy lips. Their eyes meet, just like before, Hoseok feels a tug, electricity in his veins. And then the man's smile lifts at one edge, nearly a smirk, Hoseok's heart falters in his chest.
But his body doesn't falter, he continues to move, to dance. When he spins a second time, his eyes immediately find the man again — zeroing in on his face. Hoseok hasn't seen him so close before, and maybe that was a good thing. Because with this view, as if in high definition, he feels like even more of a mess. High cheekbones and a straight nose accented with hooded, sparkling eyes. They look almost cat-like as he clearly studies Hoseok in front of him, as if he is something new and interesting. His jaw is sharp and angular, lending a masculinity to a face that otherwise might be a bit more feminine, more androgynous. And those lips. God , those lips. So plush and shiny, even parted around a toothy smile. Bubblegum pink like his hair, Hoseok wonders if they taste as sweet as they look.
There's a moment, maybe a span of mere seconds, where Hoseok debates saying fuck it and stopping the music. It feels like this is his chance, his opportunity, to finally talk to this man who haunts his dreams. Because, as weird as it sounds, he sees him in his dreams. Pretty pink hair and gleaming smiles, tiny shorts and golden skin as he glides in and out of Hoseok's every fantasy.
So this whole thing is probably weird. But he can't help it. Especially not now, when he's standing just a few meters away in cut-off jean shorts and a rainbow crop top. Yeah, especially not now. The song is almost over, Hoseok turns again and — oh no. He's leaving. They lock eyes one more time and Hoseok's stomach flips as the man winks at him. Sultry and with another smirk, so fast Hoseok's not sure it even happened, he could have imagined it. And before he can call out or do anything, the man's gone, moving away from the crowd and setting off down the sidewalk.
When the music ends less than a minute later, it's already too late. He has already vanished into the sunshine, leaving Hoseok breathless once again.
☼
It's been an off day, Hoseok arrived at the plaza in the late afternoon and now he's finished dancing and the sun is close to setting. Usually he shows up earlier, has a bigger crowd, gets more tips. Today was fine, but it wasn't anything special. Next weekend he definitely won't let himself stay in bed a few hours longer dreaming about pretty roller skaters. He's crouched on the ground, coiling up the wires for his speakers when a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye stops him.
Turning, Hoseok takes in the skater, the person he's been trying to talk to for weeks now. He's in denim shorts again but this time the crop top is peach, with Honey written in sparkly cursive on the front. Hoseok's mouth runs dry and he moves to stand, determined to not let him get away this time. The man is turning as Hoseok stands, his head rotating on a graceful neck and his lips pulling up in a smile. His nose scrunches a little and his eyes crease. Hoseok steps forward and —
It happens in an instant.
One minute the man is on his feet, gliding slowly along the sidewalk, and the next he's on the ground. It seems like it happens in slow motion, the wheel of his skate catching on a crack in the sidewalk and then he’s going down. Arms windmilling, a gasp leaving parted lips, and Hoseok is running forward before the man even hits the ground.
"Are you alright?" Hoseok calls as he approaches, dropping to his knees on the sidewalk beside the man. He's pulling himself into a sitting position and is cradling one of his legs against his chest. Hoseok tries to focus on his leg and not on the way his glossy lips are pushed out in a pout. The urge to kiss it away is very strong.
"That was embarrassing," the man mumbles, pouting down at the ground.
Hoseok can't help his chuckle as he refocuses, scanning for injuries. There's a scrape on the man’s knee, a shock of red marring otherwise unblemished honey skin. "I have some first aid stuff in my bag, stay right here." Hoseok stands and hurries back over to his speakers, digging through his bag for the little pouch with first aid supplies.
"Do you hurt yourself dancing a lot?" the skater teases when Hoseok returns. His voice is high and sweet, melodic. Hoseok wonders if he sings; it would be beautiful.
Hoseok smiles and opens the pouch, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. "I have a very clumsy friend." He tears open the packet and leans forward, gently swiping it over the bruised skin. The man hisses, eyes squeezing closed, but he doesn't complain. Hoseok continues talking, trying to distract him. "Earlier this week he saw a fluffy dog and ran to pet it, ended up tripping over his feet and scraping his chin on the curb." Hoseok shoves the wipe back in his bag and pulls out some tie-dye bandages. "I had to use three bandages on him."
"Did he at least get to pet the dog?"
Hoseok fakes a distressed sigh. "Alas, he was too busy peeling himself off the pavement to have his chance."
"Tragic." High-pitched giggles chime like bells and Hoseok glances up, seeing the skater watching him with shining eyes. He's smiling, something soft and sweet, almost intimate. "I'm Jimin, by the way."
"Hoseok, it's nice to meet you." He pauses. "I'm twenty-five are you —"
"Twenty-three." The smile morphs into a smirk, Jimin bats his eyelashes. "Can I call you hyung?"
Mouth running dry again, Hoseok nods as he sticks the last bandage to Jimin's knee. "All set," he croaks, gently patting Jimin's shin. His skin is warm and soft, smooth as silk under Hoseok’s palm. He doesn't want to let go. Standing, he reaches down and offers a hand, helping Jimin to his feet, watching him rebalance on his skates.
"Thank you, Hoseok hyung." He tucks his hands, small and covered in sparkly rings, into his back pockets and leans forward a little. "I've noticed you dancing."
"I've noticed you, too," Hoseok blurts. When he receives a quizzically raised brow in response, he continues, "Skating, I mean. Through the plaza."
Jimin hums and shifts a little on his skates, shuffling a bit closer. "You're good. I dance, too, for a contemporary studio nearby."
Hoseok smiles at that; it feels serendipitous, maybe fated. He feels a surge of boldness in the face of Jimin's sweet smile. "Maybe we should dance together some time."
"I'd like that." Jimin's smile grows, his eyes crease and he giggles again. "Not today though, I should probably rest my knee." He pauses and his smile becomes softer again, a little shy. "But maybe I could buy you ice cream? As a thank you for helping me?"
"You don't have to do that." Hoseok regrets the words as soon as he says them. Of course Jimin doesn't have to buy him ice cream, but it would be nice. It would be nice to get to know him, maybe he could ask for his number after.
Jimin untucks one hand from his pocket and his fingers skim over Hoseok's forearm. "I want to." Hoseok doesn't have time to protest before Jimin's fingers slide down his wrist and intertwine with his own. He tugs Hoseok along, gliding forward on his skates toward an ice cream stand as Hoseok stumbles along behind him.
Twenty minutes later, Hoseok is sitting next to Jimin on a bench, their thighs just barely touching. Hoseok can hardly focus on his own cone, mint chocolate, with the sight next to him. Jimin is beautiful, the strawberry ice cream he's delicately licking is the same color as his hair. The sun is setting behind him, illuminating him in golds and pinks, his hair shining like a strawberry halo. Jimin looks like the sunset, is the sunset, glowing and gorgeous, making Hoseok feel a little breathless.
"Thank you again for helping me." Jimin glances over, finding Hoseok watching him. He lowers his ice cream cone and cocks his head. "Do I have something on my face?"
Hoseok shakes his head. "No, you just — you're really pretty."
Jimin grins and leans forward. "You have a little something," he murmurs, free hand landing on Hoseok's thigh to brace himself, "right here." Jimin's lips press against his before Hoseok has time to steel himself.
Jimin's lips are cool from the ice cream and softer than flower petals. They're just as plush as they look, giving easily as Hoseok returns the kiss. He can feel the trickle of ice cream melting down his fingers but it doesn't matter, not when Jimin is tilting his head and parting his lips on a sigh. He tastes sweet like strawberry ice cream and vanilla coffee and Hoseok has never experienced something so perfect. As Jimin pulls back, leaving a last peck on his lips, he giggles again, and it sounds like a promise of more.