Work Text:
The night falls upon life as soon as the sun bids farewell on the horizon of the sunset. The stars flood the expanse of the sky, tiny lanterns in the distance that illuminate the darkness of a vast valley of constellations and lunar spots that sprinkle a whole galaxy. The moon remains at the pinnacle of existence, occupying the throne bestowed upon it by the largest star in the solar system for its satisfaction, and the autumn breeze flutters through the surroundings of an exterior that remains awake despite the late hour.
Hoseok finishes closing the dance studio door with a sigh in between. His brow furrows in a gesture of concentration as he enters the four-digit code that activates the security alarm, and a yawn crosses his mouth and solidifies just before he sets off towards the nearest bus stop.
He tucks his hands inside his hoodie pockets, seeking shelter in a shoulder shrug within the warmth of his coat and the stealth of the night. His head feels heavy, as do his muscles, and the soles of his shoes drag on the pavement as they struggle to lift his feet properly for walking.
He's exhausted, that's the truth. More than that, he might dare to emphasize, when he feels the numbness in the muscles of his back and the ones that make up the rear of his legs. He needs a 24-hour break, without pauses for food or drinks, without interruptions for bathroom breaks or due to his disrupted sleep schedule. It would be 24 hours of continuous unconsciousness, followed by a delightful warm bath that helps to release the knots that have gathered around his rear shoulder blades, the lower part of his back, and the sides of his weary body.
He also needs a good massage that will stretch the ligaments of his anatomy, and while he's submerged in this immense fantasy of wanting and not knowing if he'll receive, he's probably also craving a hundred kisses from the guy who's waiting for him just seconds away at the place they can call home.
He wouldn't deny them. Hoseok knows for sure that if he asked his boyfriend for a million kisses, all he would do is grumble with embarrassment and count each time the softness of his lips made contact with his skin. The mere thought makes him happy and he smiles beneath his grumpy facade, but a slight expression of concern eventually creeps onto his face as he wonders what he's doing during this dark eternity.
Is he questioning Hoseok's whereabouts after asking the walls for the time? Is he missing him as much as Hoseok has been missing him during rehearsals and throughout the day?
He kept him in his mind at all times, especially during those fleeting breaks to drink water or use the bathroom. They were pauses that felt eternal, but allowed him to fill his head with longing and thick brushstrokes of a nostalgia he didn't know he could harbor even after all those years of their relationship that are marked on their calendars.
However, for Hoseok, it's not particularly absurd to miss him so much. It's not new either; Yoongi occupies ninety percent of his thoughts, leaving a ten percent remaining for a pure grace where he can think of himself, his career as a dancer, and his life together with his Hyung.
Likewise, a significant portion of his love is reserved within that number. A love that wants to occupy all corners of his gray matter, that aims to rule all corners of his memory box, where Yoongi still retains his five senses and never suffered the accident that condemned him to the darkness they still have to get used to.
Similarly, the present Yoongi is wandering around in his mental musings: smiling, silent, like a tranquil kitten in its owner's lap, dozing off under caresses that Hoseok is now dying to give him once inside the shelter and warmth of their sheets.
A long sigh leaves his chest, resembling a grumble that furrows his brows and makes him wonder how much longer it will take to reach the station. He'd take long strides to quicken his pace, but his legs weigh him down so much and his calves burn with such intensity that it's almost a miracle he can still walk at this pace.
He doesn't quite understand the reason behind his unusually extreme exhaustion, especially since he did his usual cool-down stretches. Yet, he pushes away his uncertainty, not believing it's worth investigating something he can resolve with warm water and his beloved's presence.
He breathes again as if his life depended on it and hums to himself when he finally spots the stop he usually takes. He glances at the watch around his wrist beneath his hoodie sleeve to confirm that the last bus of the day will be coming by soon, and verifies that he'll be there in approximately eight minutes.
Thus, he gathers the remaining strength in his legs to jog towards the empty bench illuminated by white spotlights, lending a magical melancholy to the seat and its surroundings.
He arrives in seconds and almost collapses onto the space as exhaustion starts to take its toll. He removes the backpack from his shoulders to place it on his lap and searches his front pockets for his phone. Yoongi's date of birth is his unlock code, and his chat is the first to appear in the instant messaging app.
He writes that he'll be taking the transport back soon and hopes that Yoongi is awake to receive him and allow him to find solace in the closeness of his chest.
He makes sure to use proper spelling and avoid abbreviations so that the accessibility feature set up on his boyfriend's phone can read it aloud without issue, and taps the send button on the touch screen with the hope of getting an immediate response.
However, he doesn't receive one, but Hoseok doesn't get too worried when the transport arrives and he has to stow his phone away to avoid losing it. He hangs the backpack back on his shoulders as the bus doors open to welcome him. He ascends the few steps onto the platform and searches in one of the side pockets of his high-change purse for the fare.
He pays after politely greeting the driver and makes his way through the seats before the vehicle starts and threatens to rob him of the little stability he has left in his legs. Most of the seats are unoccupied, so he ends up sitting next to one of the windows, away from the pair of guys who remain with their heads bowed toward their screens and their ears covered by headphones that let out the murmur of whatever they're listening to.
There's a young woman too. She's sitting in one of the front corners with a book in her hands, but Hoseok doesn't pay her much attention, choosing instead to focus on the journey and wait for Yoongi's response.
The minutes pass by as if nothing. The streets speed by alongside the trees and life, fading into oblivion, and the dancer's phone never rings with the receipt of a new message. He feels a slight discontentment in not receiving any news from his Hyung, but he does his best not to fret more than necessary.
After all, it's later than usual, and although Yoongi tends to wait for his return and even waits for him in the living room, it's reasonable that he might have gotten tired and gone to bed. Yes, that must be it. Maybe he fell asleep listening to one of those audiobooks he enjoys so much or with the murmur of the TV in the background playing one of those shows whose descriptions he never tires of hearing because they remind him of the time when he could still see.
The assumption soothes him as much as possible. It even helps him pass the rest of the journey by, as he fantasizes a bit about his Yoongi as if he's not about to see him any minute.
He thinks about him passionately, about how his long, dark hair gracefully falls around his face, giving him an incredible and indescribable beauty.
He thinks about the softness of his smile and the fullness of his lips, how the corners of his eyes narrow when the curve of his mouth widens in happiness, like a sunbeam that has recently been overshadowed by the cloud of tragedy.
He thinks about his figure, how tiny he can become as soon as he curls up on any reasonably comfortable surface. And he also thinks about the way he pronounces his name with a tenderness that contrasts with the soft thickness of his voice.
He remembers how content he sounds when he calls him, so close, so smooth, full of a joy that Hoseok doesn't believe he deserves, but still accepts with an open heart, knowing that Yoongi doesn't behave this way with anyone else but him.
Yes, he's very kind to his friends, especially his maknaes, who always manage to make him laugh even in his eternal darkness. However, that kindness is just a synonym close to respect, whereas his feelings for Hoseok come close to the definition of love.
Hoseok has known this for a while; the kind of affection Yoongi has for him that he doesn't express in words, but in actions. He learned about it verbally and truly one night when they were drinking at home. His Hyung had gone overboard with the soju and couldn't stop mentioning how much he wished to see again, even if just for a moment, because the hardest part of that misfortune was knowing he wouldn't get to see his love's features again and that, over time, if he couldn't regain his sight, he'd forget how handsome his boyfriend was and one of the reasons he fell deeply for him.
Hoseok didn't know what to do at that moment. He wanted so badly to hug him, kiss him, own him, let him know he was just as in love as he was, maybe even more. But he also wanted to cry, to apologize for something that wasn't his responsibility, nor his fault. Something they both couldn't change. He ended up kissing his boyfriend amidst tears and blushing giggles that enveloped them in a pink bubble of furtive and sincere emotions until drowsiness won the battle and seduced them into the arms of Morpheus and the comfort of a bed they haven't stopped sharing since.
There hasn't been a single night when they're not nestled against each other: Yoongi clinging to his waist and hidden in his chest, Hoseok buried in the thicket of his hair with his legs tangled in the warmth of his closeness, his solemn company.
The older one would fall asleep in a second, and Hoseok would take his time before losing consciousness to memorize every corner of his body, the irregularity of his breath, the gentle thumping of his heart, and that distinct way he curls up against his torso with a hum similar to his cat's purring.
Yoongi is quite similar to that kind of feline, and Hoseok is missing him so much now that he has to press his face into both hands in an attempt to quell the agony that's brewing where his soul rests.
He glances out the bus window to figure out where he is and why it's taking so long to reach his stop. He consoles himself with the newfound knowledge that there are only a couple more blocks to go before they arrive and eventually jumps up as soon as the bus comes to a halt.
He involuntarily expresses gratitude for the journey, a habitual act, and steps down the vehicle's couple of stairs to stand on the sidewalk, embarking on a new path toward his residence.
It doesn't take him long to reach the building. Just a few seconds that transform into an instant, and double strides that help him climb the steps to stop on the third floor. He breathes heavily, almost out of breath, as the effort and haste immediately take their toll, reminding him of how exhausted he was just a few minutes ago.
He places a hand on his chest, exhales through his mouth, and turns to the code lock attached to the wall next to the apartment door. He enters the code with familiarity and pushes the door open to step inside.
The light sensor at the entrance greets him as usual, and the first thing Hoseok looks for are his Hyung's shoes. He always keeps them ready in case he has to go out with one of his maknaes or a visiting family member who believes that too much time inside the apartment is not good for him and he needs some sun to temper the smooth whiteness of his skin.
The shoes are in the same place where he left them that morning, so he deduces that his boyfriend has been at home all day and that if he had received any visitors, it would have been there as well. He hums to himself as he takes off his own shoes along with his socks and replaces them with the indoor sandals that match the ones his boyfriend wears.
A groan escapes his lips as soon as his shoulders are relieved of the burden of his backpack, and he leaves it in a corner before fully entering the space he considers his home. The living room light is on, just like the hallway light. The kitchen and balcony are in dim light, and for now, Hoseok finds no trace of his boyfriend.
"Yoongi-ah." The brunet calls out loudly enough to be heard in case his Hyung is awake.
He doesn't get any response, so he simply walks through the dining room towards the room they share. He finds the door slightly ajar, which makes him briefly furrow his brow in incomprehension.
Yoongi has the habit of closing doors behind him every time he enters or exits a place.
"Yoongi-ah?" he says again, this time in a marked murmur that is interrupted by paralysis as soon as he enters the room.
His heart drops to the floor. No, he's sure that it's his soul that collapses the moment his gaze focuses on the boy curled up at the foot of the bed.
His body shakes in silent sobs that barely reach the edges of Hoseok's eardrums, his arms cling to the sides of his legs as if his existence depended on it, and his face hides in the hollow of his trembling knees, causing the darkness of his hair to fall scattered over his shoulders and making the shudders that accompany the hiccups that now resonate in the dancer's ears evident.
Hoseok reacts in a blink, the spirit between his fingers and a gentle tremor that allows him to approach him in a matter of seconds.
"Yoongi, my love. Are you okay?" He rushes to ask, doing his best not to stumble over his own tongue as he examines the boy's limbs, who raises his head as soon as he senses his presence and touch. "What happened? Are you hurt? Are you...?"
The barrage of questions hangs in the air, as Yoongi throws himself towards his body guided by the trembling sound of his voice. Hoseok catches him before he can fall and ends up enveloping him in his arms as he continues to inspect his figure.
He doesn't see blood anywhere on the floor or on the pajamas his Hyung is wearing. All he notices is a deep sadness emanating from his boyfriend's unsteady breathing, from the way he now clenches his fists around the hoodie Hoseok is wearing, from the way he presses against his chest and seeks in vain to shield himself from the sorrow that now shatters him and forces him to sob a little louder than before.
The grief becomes contagious. It sticks to Hoseok's skin mercilessly and burns in the corners of the body that Yoongi clings to so carefully. His tears don't stop. On the contrary, they grow in cursed abundance, like the fury of the sky in a storm at sea. They sweep everything away and take the dancer with them, increasing in the same way the concern that now accumulates in the pit of his stomach like a stone.
It's heavy and hard to bear, yet Hoseok pushes it aside, knowing that his immediate priority is to find out why his beloved is crying in hiccups and that deep distress.
"What happened?" he asks in a thread of a voice, moving his hand to support his Hyung's head when he shifts to hide in the curve of his neck. "My love, why are you crying?"
Yoongi sobs as if that were his answer, and Hoseok swallows all the saliva that accumulates in his mouth before understanding that he has to wait for the older one to calm down to be able to find out what has him in that state. It must be something serious to have caused him such agony. Hoseok hasn't even seen his face to come to that conclusion, but considering that Yoongi doesn't usually fall apart in that way— he's only done it a few times, all when he was still learning to live in the shadows against his will— he knows he must prepare for a tragedy.
He tries to swallow the new knot in his throat when his boyfriend mourns sorrowfully against the dampness of his neck, and blinks away the tears that accumulate at the corners of his eyes. He can't escape the shock that his crying causes him. He can't be a little stronger than this, only capable of thinking of him trapped in that eternal night. No clouds or stars, no moonlight or any lantern to guide him out of his agony.
He only has touch among everything else, which allows him to grip the body of the dancer with significant and unstable strength, holding on tightly as he struggles to maintain stability. Hoseok feels Yoongi take whole handfuls of his hoodie and dampen the curve of his neck with all those fluids that don't matter but shatter the corners of his soul as if there were no tomorrow.
He sniffs discreetly and runs his open hand along his back. His shirt is loose compared to the proportions of his body, and at any other time, Hoseok would enjoy the view that garment would provide. He loves to see his Hyung dressed in comfortable freedom, especially if it's his clothes. However, he doesn't want to appreciate him in that way, not in that state. In fact, he doesn't want to find him in all that unknown suffering again, and although he still has no idea what happened, he hopes to find out as soon as he can calm him down.
He caresses his back once more, sniffles before breathing deeply, and decides that the floor is not the best place to be. It's not good for either of them, actually, especially if he's trying to properly console his boyfriend while struggling with his own desire to burst into tears.
He can't help it. Seeing Yoongi in that condition has broken his heart into hundreds of pieces.
He returns to his idea of moving, glances around in hopes of finding something to lean on without letting go of his boyfriend, who now complains in softer murmurs but doesn't stop hiccupping inconsolably. The bedside table is not an option, and he fears failing to hold onto the bedcovers. His only alternative is to support both of their weight on one arm and establish himself on his feet, hoping that a full day of dance practice will come to collect its true toll at another time.
He's still tired, that's a fact, but for Yoongi, he can summon the last of his strength and carry him to infinity. For now, however, he's going to take him to bed even if it's hard. He tightens the arm that encircles his waist to gain stability, tucks one leg under the other until his knee brushes against the floor, and uses the free arm to push himself forward.
He's on one knee with Yoongi now hanging from his torso, his legs wrapped around his hips, and his upper limbs entwined around his shoulders and the fabric of his hoodie. He avoids thinking about the fatigue that the physical effort is causing him—his body is seriously screaming for a rest—and uses the last drops of energy he has to propel himself upwards and stand up.
It's fortunate that Yoongi doesn't weigh that much, or else Hoseok is sure that he would have lost his balance and both would have met with real doom. Either way, he has succeeded, and he achieves his goal of taking him to bed and lulling him into tranquility.
From there, he will find out what happened and they will seek a solution together, as they have done since the accident and beyond.
Hoseok occupies the edge of the mattress with a soft grunt. His own desire to burst into tears has finally disappeared, allowing him to reason his next moves clearly. He places his boyfriend on his lap, letting him straddle him to spare him the discomfort of having to move away from the shelter in his neck.
He hugs him closer to his chest, strokes the center of his back in soothing circles, and rocks with him in a gentle sway that could calm even the most violent ocean waves. Eventually, Yoongi's distress fades, and what was once a torrent of tears and a pain filled with restlessness and shakes under torment now turns into silent whimpers that slowly fade into the bedroom's silence.
They become sighs that turn into mere breath, calming breaths that mimic the push flowers receive in the midst of a spring breeze.
Yoongi manages to calm down completely after a few faint minutes, and yet Hoseok continues to provide that unconditional support driven by the immense love he holds in his soul for him. He strokes his back again, moving upwards to reach his neck and caress the hair that falls scattered in that area.
He combs it gently, hugs his waist a bit tighter, and Yoongi's breathing becomes so imperceptible that Hoseok is left with the impression that he has fallen into the realm of dreams. It wouldn't surprise him if that were the case. Crying drains him, and his condition of safety has drained the last remnants of vitality he had.
He will let him sleep if he really has, and tomorrow he will find out what happened to him and why he was starring in all that distress.
However, that won't be necessary, as Yoongi stirs in his arms to move impossibly closer to his body and clings more to the delicate path of his shoulders.
"Hobi..." he murmurs in a hoarse whisper, his voice affected by the turbulence of his previous agony.
Hoseok holds his breath unknowingly. His lungs seize up, and the lower part of his stomach trembles in dissatisfaction at the shock he receives from hearing him so pitifully. It's unbearable to witness that shattered purr that breaks him into a thousand pieces. A whisper that reaches his ears due to the short distance between their figures and that wants to ruthlessly shatter him into thousands of pieces impossible to recover. Pieces that get lost with the fall of his tears. Pieces that evaporate in the sweep of their breaths.
Yoongi sounds so small calling him that way, so fragile, like a glass angel that has almost crashed to the ground and has only miraculously survived.
The dancer fills his chest with all the oxygen his ribcage can hold and wets his lips, hoping that his vocal cords will reach to speak.
"I'm here," he mutters to his Hyung, with a concerned tenderness effortlessly oozing from him.
His muscles still burn with resentment from the day's effort and the force he had to use to get them to bed. However, that heaviness doesn't seem relevant at all compared to the current situation.
"Hobi," the older one calls again. His whisper is steadier than before, but it doesn't reassure Hoseok in the slightest.
"I'm here, love," he asserts without hesitation, wrapping his arm around his waist so that his left arm is crossing a diagonal angle to reach his shoulder and embrace it lovingly, recalling the injury he suffered in the same tragedy in which he lost his sight. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he manages to ask.
He tightens the embrace with his right arm around the vicinity of his hips and doesn't hesitate to bury most of his face in the softness of his chest in a silent declaration that he's there for him, that he won't leave soon, never, that he will stay by his side until the end of times and that even if infinity comes to its conclusion, he will continue to be with him without hesitation.
He snorts through his nose, still feeling breathless, and waits for Yoongi to give him an answer. His boyfriend ends up shaking his head in denial and sits up as much as possible to move away from the refuge he has created in Hoseok's neck.
The brunet loosens his grip and hastily takes a complete look at him to verify that he doesn't have any physical injuries. He finds lost eyes and perpetually faded pupils, round and red cheekbones bathed in the crimson of sorrow, of a suffering whose origin remains an enigma that Hoseok intends to unravel.
He reaches his hand toward his face, cradling his cheek with his palm before rubbing the irritated edge of his eyelid with his thumb. Yoongi immediately turns toward his touch, leaning against his skin and clutching his wrist because it's the only thing he can do.
"What happened?" the dancer questions in a soft voice.
He covers his other cheek and soon they're pressing their foreheads together in the hope that his Hyung can sense him closer, that he can feel what he can't see.
It's something he insists on doing. He's always looking for ways for Yoongi to experience the love he feels for him beyond what he used to witness, how he looks inside his memory box, which is gradually becoming a blurred, empty spot, emulating the lost focus of his eye sockets.
Meanwhile, from the corner of his eye, Hoseok watches as Yoongi moistens his lips with the tip of his tongue, and he swallows saliva to speak.
"I wanted, I wanted to listen to 'Almonds' while I was waiting for you, but," he starts to explain, his voice faltering in the aftermath of his crying and traces of embarrassment causing Hoseok to furrow his brow, "but when I tried to play it, that, that stupid device said that it, that it wasn't available anymore, and I..." he stops halfway, sniffing his nose before shaking his head in a gesture of eternal frustration.
Hoseok offers a caress on the edge of his face to let him know he's listening and that he can confide in him without the fear of being judged or rejected. Yoongi snorts and tightens his fingertips around the dancer's veins.
"I got upset because, because I couldn't sleep and, and you w-weren't here and," the words crack in his new murmur. His eye sockets glisten in the crystallization of imminent tears, and the fragility that now envelops him makes Hoseok regret leaving the house in the first place. "You weren't here and, and if I weren't, if I weren't damned blind and I..."
"Hey, no, don't talk like that," Hoseok intervenes in a second, refusing to let that sentence conclude knowing how hard and unfair Yoongi would be on himself. It wasn't his fault, nothing that happened, and he won't allow him to torment himself over it as if it had been his responsibility. "I'm sorry I took so long," he says in a new murmur, shaking his head and pushing back the dark locks that intrude on the corners of his Hyung's blushing face. "I missed you like crazy. I'm sorry."
He holds him against his chest once again, clutching him with his body as if it were the first time all day. He rubs his back, kisses the side of his head, and silently suffers from the image that forms in his mind and inevitably torments him.
He tries to push it away, as it's unbearable, anything related to his Hyung and the dark loneliness he has to go through in his absence is, and his remorse becomes so great and so unjust that he can't contain the words that accumulate at the tip of his tongue from escaping.
"I'll read 'Almonds' to you," he offers without hesitation, planting another kiss on the edge of his temple while Yoongi clings to his sides after his usual brief exploration.
"Are you sure?" he mumbles doubtfully, dropping his cheek onto the shoulder of a Hoseok who has never felt as sure of anything as he does now.
"Of course," he answers. "We still have a copy here, right?"
"Yes, I, I think so," the elder says with some hesitation, perhaps briefly recalling the time when he could hold a book between his fingers and simply get lost in the printed words.
"Perfect," the dancer declares, ready to break all the necessary silences to avoid a relapse. "Then I'll go get it, we'll get into bed together, and I'll read to you whatever you want, does that sound good?"
Yoongi sits up, and out of sheer reflex, Hoseok cradles his face toward his own. His eyes don't focus on him for anything in the world, but it doesn't matter, not when Yoongi wraps the backs of his hands around his to let him know he's aware of his presence even in the absence of sight.
"But," he sniffs his nose and tilts his head slightly. "Aren't you tired?"
Hoseok shakes his head, taking a brief glance at his boyfriend's lips. He's bitten them more times than necessary, causing this slight swelling that concentrates much of his blood in that particular area. They look full, as appetizing as possible, like a pair of plump raspberries that Hoseok wouldn't hesitate to taste if circumstances were different.
"Not when it's about you," he finally answers, taking advantage of that second to tuck his hair behind his ears and not missing how Yoongi becomes bashful and his cheekbones bathe in a gentle color, similar to crimson.
"Are you going to take a shower first?" he suddenly inquires, probably in his attempt to dilute the load of emotions that now float between them.
The incident and the elder's desperation haven't been forgotten, but Hoseok is glad that at least his crying has stopped and that, little by little, his dissatisfaction is diminishing to a background noise.
"I took one at the studio," he informs gently, furrowing his brow as he knows he can't see it. "Why, do I smell bad?" he jokes, pinching his cheek in passing to let him know he's not serious.
Yoongi scrunches his nose in a charming grimace, followed by a giggle that causes Hoseok's heart to jump twice and his breathing to skip six beats. He's almost certain his soul is jumping out as well, to be given only to the man who now caresses his sides and leans toward his touch.
"No, I was just wondering," he responds even though it's not truly necessary.
Hoseok surrenders without even trying, ending up leaving a kiss right where his smile ends.
"Okay," he murmurs against his mouth, kissing him again in reassurance and a renewed promise. His lips are warm and salty, but that only adds a fascinating delight that he can't resist. "I'll leave you here and go get the book, alright?"
"That's okay," Yoongi nods, and before Hoseok can move, he caresses his forearm with regret. "I'm sorry," he says to the air, to the void, to a Hoseok who recalls a hundred times how those same nocturnal eye sockets were filled with stars when they rested on him.
The night is clearer now and doesn't have as many constellations, but the sky remains the same one that captivated him years ago.
"You don't have to apologize," the dancer mentions, feeling his heart thump and flutter with the knowledge that he really shouldn't be apologizing for any of this. He rubs the edge of Yoongi's cheek with the back of his fingers and relishes in the way his Hyung closes his eyes, allowing himself to be caressed. "I know it's frustrating, that it's not easy, but when you feel like this again, just call me, okay?" he finds himself saying, with such conviction that it overwhelms him to the core for a moment. "I'll come running no matter what."
It's a genuine promise. A sincere pledge that fills the room's walls and their chests. They are words brimming with an unparalleled, unbreakable solemnity, drawn from the depths of his love and brought to the surface of certainties that can be seen with more than just a simple gaze.
Yoongi believes him, and Hoseok learns that thanks to his silence, that moment he takes to breathe, to blush, to digest his willingness and accept that he's not alone in this life, that he doesn't have to be, that he doesn't need to walk through all that darkness with empty hands and without company.
He knows it, and yet something within him prevents him from simply accepting it. Hoseok realizes this from the way his lips now purse and his chin drops.
"It's not necessary," he says instead, and before he can add anything else, Hoseok rushes to speak.
"Yes, it is," he assures him, with his heart sinking but full, with his soul torn but mended by his presence; by his mere existence. "I don't want to leave you alone in this, Hyung. Never."
A couple of tears might escape down the curve of the elder's cheek, but Hoseok doesn't catch them in time as Yoongi is squeezing between his arms in a tight embrace. He clings to him until distance ceases to be a concept, and he doesn't let go until their heartbeats synchronize and it's time to find the book that started it all.
Hoseok fulfills his promise of narrating the story endlessly. He does it for hours that feel like minutes, for entire paragraphs that find their way out of his mouth as his fingers soothe the hair of a Yoongi who surrenders to sleep, cuddled against his side, as if it were the only place in the world to be, where nothing can harm him and where Hoseok can shield him from any existing evil.