Archive of Our Own

The first note is simple, a bit of fun in the small hours of the morning.

Hoseok is asleep, lightly snoring with his mouth ajar. A study sheet sticks to his cheek, and Yoongi feels the fleeting impulse to remove it. He almost does, hand reaching forward to gently shift Hoseok's head into the open cradle of his palm, but he stops short.

His fingers land instead upon a lock of his hair, carefully weaving into the softness of it for just a moment. Yoongi marvels at the silken feeling. Hoseok's hair is freshly dyed, a lovely mahogany color. It'll look great on stage, subtly red under a spotlight.

For now, in the blue light of the approaching dawn, it's his usual warm brown. Yoongi loves it most like this.

It's been a long week for them all, with the awful cocktail of upcoming recitals and written exams pushing their cohort to frequent late-night study sessions. Yoongi watches Hoseok's shoulders shift up and down as he takes steady breaths, exhaustion making itself known in the divot of his brow.

Yoongi wants to tell him he knows how hard he's been working. He wants to wake him, just for a moment, and whisper encouragements. He wants so badly to lift him from where he sleeps, to carry him back to his room and lose him to the pile of blankets he keeps neatly folded on his bed.

But, Hoseok is taller now than he once was when they met years ago. He's older in a way where the thought of Yoongi lifting him threatens to bring laughter too loud for the quiet dawn; and, something else too, some foreign melancholy that lodges itself in the space between Yoongi's ribs. Yoongi feels at once smaller than he's ever been and as though to touch Hoseok again would scatter him far outside his own reach.

Yoongi takes his own study sheet and his pen, turns over to the blank side and presses the nib down. He writes Hoseok's name first.

He pauses, thinking.

He almost writes about Hoseok's hair. Almost.

There is a moment where Yoongi's hand nearly moves of its own accord. In his premonition, he can see the words forming around the island of them. He thinks:

Hoseok,

Do you think they know what this looks like?

Hoseok, do you think anyone else knows the exactness of each shade of brown in your hair when the night is still quiet, when the sun still sits just below the horizon?

Yoongi does not write about this. Not about the brief softness of Hoseok's hair in his hands, at least.

But he does write about hair.

The first note is simple, hastily scrawled on the back of a study sheet.

The corner of it sticks out from beneath the pillow under Hoseok's head. Hoseok holds the note in one hand and his aching neck in the other, trying to rub the stiffness out of the muscle there.

"Yoongi hyung?" Hoseok calls out uncertainly. His voice feels too quiet for the afternoon. The weight of it lands against the empty silence of his apartment. He stands, socked feet padding across the rug.

There's something on the countertop in his kitchen. He walks over, already smiling. The plate of pancakes is still warm, sunlight catching the rising steam, and there's a strategically placed blueberry smiley face at the top of the stack. Hoseok snorts, then turns around once again, as if that would make Yoongi magically appear before him.

No one else is there. There's not even a trace of batter anywhere, the counter top meticulously wiped down.

It's just Hoseok and his pancakes, and the note still clutched in his hand.

He smooths it out now, squinting. He'd left his contacts in last night, he realizes, and he blearily blinks around the dry feeling in his eyes. He reads:

Hoseok,

Had to head out for practice.

Thnx for the study session last night. Eat up and get some rest.

- Yoongi

P.S. Nice hair. It'll look dope during your recital.

It's a simple note.

He doesn't know why it brings warmth rushing to his face.

There's a note on top of his bag.

Yoongi stops in his tracks when he sees it.

To be precise, he nearly skids to a stop, suddenly aware of every hair on his body standing up. He stops so suddenly that Jimin doesn't even notice until he's managed to walk right into him with a great yelp.

"What the hell are you- what is that?" Jimin quickly switches.

The thing is, the note is hard to miss.

To be abundantly clear, it's obvious enough to have drawn a small circle of underclassmen to his bag. When they realize it's his, and further still, when they realize he's there, several of them rush away. Only two women linger, looking for all the world as though they've manifested from thin air solely to witness him in this moment. Yoongi recognizes them as two of their BFA candidates. Mina and Sana, often attached at the hip in the classes he TA's, and more often to be found in the company of several of his friends. Usually, he enjoys their presence.

Mina and Sana linger when he walks up with Jimin trailing behind him, and the latter hides behind her hand to stifle a giggle. Both have the good grace to bow their heads slightly, Mina mumbling a greeting and maintaining a posture that draws her away from the giant, glaringly frilly note stuck to Yoongi's bag.

"Mina-ssi," Yoongi acknowledges. "Sana-ssi. I hope you're here practicing for our Wednesday session."

"Ah," Mina starts. "We had lessons next door. We were just, um, passing by."

"Passing by," Yoongi echoes, and Sana nods vigorously. "Okay, well... okay."

"What class were you in, Mina-nim?" Jimin asks just as the two women finally look ready to leave him be. Yoongi threads his fingers together to avoid impulsively flicking Jimin's forehead.

"Interpretive Dance," Sana answers instead.

"Oh!" Jimin says pleasantly. "With-"

"Hoseok," Yoongi finishes. Three pairs of eyes turn to him. His eyes are determinedly focused on the note.

"Well," Mina says after a beat of silence. "We should... go study."

"Ah, alright," Jimin says as Mina and Sana make their goodbyes. They hurry away, Jimin waving after them. "See you later."

Yoongi is still staring at the note on his bag.

"Jeez, hyung, I think you scared them," Jimin says to him. "Are you okay? You're kind of... intense right now."

The note, for starters, is edged in frilly cream lace. The paper is bright pink, eye catching even from across the room.

And, secondly, it's also heart shaped and at least a foot long.

"They're never going to let me live this down," Yoongi finally responds. He doesn't have to look back to know Jimin is rolling his eyes.

"What, a valentine?" Jimin laughs. "Hyung, it's fine. Besides, they're not going to, like, say anything. They're probably going to be in our cohort postgrad, I doubt they particularly feel like bothering you about a love note."

Yoongi stands up straighter at that, pulling at the back of his collar like its suddenly too hot in the hall. "It's not... I mean, probably not-"

"Who's it from, anyway?" Jimin moves to pick it up, and Yoongi is suddenly all arms and legs, nearly windmilling to grab the note as Jimin's hand comes within millimeters of it. "Hey!"

"Shh," Yoongi says, opening it up. It's just a card, but it feels weighty as he reads.

Again, the note itself is simple.

Yoongi hyung,

Thank you for the pancakes ~ ~ ! They were so sweet, just like you :3

And thanks for the pillow too?

Next time, stay for breakfast :(

xoxo
HobiHobi ♡＾▽＾♡

P.S. same time again on Saturday? or skip for post recital/pre birthday drinks?

"Good God," Jimin's voice is close to Yoongi's ear as he reads over his shoulder. "Did he literally write out his emojis?" Yoongi just about jumps to snap the card shut. "Again, hey! Hyung, relax, it's just me."

"You," Yoongi begins, "Of all people would most certainly never let me live anything down."

"Fair," Jimin laughs. "But are you two like... a thing, or..."

"No."

"Okay..." Jimin has one perfectly shaped eyebrow quirked, and his chews on his lip to stop from smiling. He and Sana have a little too much in common, at least when it comes to enjoying making him nervous. "Right. Not a thing."

"Right," Yoongi nods, sticking the hot pink card into the pocket of his black duffel.

"Right," Jimin continues. "You're just.... spending all night together. Making pancakes. Running out before breakfast..."

"I had Spring recital practice," Yoongi groans.

"No other denials, I see."

"It's not like that," Yoongi insists. "We were studying. I crashed there. I wrote him a note. That's all."

"So you wrote him a little valentine first. Very modern." Jimin has that annoyingly impish grin of his, one hand on his hip as he watches the way Yoongi's face scrunches in response to him.

"Not a valentine," Yoongi corrects. "Just a note."

"Hmm... well, what did your note say?"

"Nothing," Yoongi mumbles. "Just, you know, thanks for studying with me. Gotta go. Uh," the last part, he whispers. Something about Jimin's attention always pries the truth from him. "I said, like, nice hair, or something."

"Uh huh. Or something." Jimin is still staring at him when something in at the exterior door briefly pulls at his attention. When his eyes snap back, there's a mischievous sparkle to them that compels Yoongi to turn himself.

There, passing by the window at the far end of the hall, is Hoseok. He catches Yoongi's eye, spots Yoongi clutching his bag close, and smiles.

Yoongi blinks faster. When Hoseok smiles, nothing else exists. It's as if the sun has fallen down to eye level, the rest of the world hidden in its brightness. Hoseok's smile is impossibly heart shaped. The outline of it is a stamp on Yoongi's chest, an imprint where the thudding of his heart is louder, warm to the touch.

Hoseok disappears with a wave, and the hall is dim once again.

"Just a note," Jimin repeats, pulling Yoongi's attention back to him. "Well, one could argue every note in February is a valentine in this day and age."

"Valentine's day is nothing but a Western import to sell more chocolate at Royce," Yoongi quips.

"Sure, hyung," Jimin nods. "Don't worry. You'll get there eventually."

Jimin doesn't look up from his book when Hoseok slides into the empty chair across from him.

"Jimin," Hoseok whispers, conscious of the nearby tables of studying students. Jimin gives him a withering look, then looks pointedly at their neighbors, both buried in notes. Hoseok bows his head once, apologetically, then frowns when Jimin goes back to his text.

The Seoul Arts academic resource center is as close to a library as they'll get. It has the right building blocks - books abound, plenty of study spaces, a circulation assistant who constantly eyes everyone's covered coffee cups with some frenetic mix of nerves and disapproval. Still, Hoseok rarely finds himself or the rest of his cohort here when it comes time to review for their handful of written exams. He'd been looking for some reference materials, already planning ahead for a Winter recital theme before Spring has been overcome.

He's aware he's stumbled upon Jimin in his own chosen territory. The thing is, he's a bit desperate.

"Jimin," Hoseok repeats.

"Hyung-nim," Jimin hisses. "You realize I come here so that I can actually focus?"

"Sorry," Hoseok says. "Sorry, I just... I need some advice."

"Now?"

"Now," Hoseok repeats, taking the note out of his jacket pocket. He drops it on the table between them and it lands with a poignant thud.

This note does not feel simple.

Hoseok hasn't even gotten to the actual content yet. It's the paper itself, something about it feeling weighty, and not just literally.

It's fresh cream card stock, the edges trimmed in neat inky spirals. It's folded up, cornered and tucked into a box of sorts.

"What is that?" Jimin asks.

"It's a note."

"A note?"

"Well actually," Hoseok pauses to drop a book on the table between them. This is, unfortunately, loud enough to draw attention from the neighboring tables. Jimin glowers at him, but he still leans forward to read the title.

"Victorian Romantic Traditions," Jimin monotones. Hoseok is already opening the book up and flipping through before Jimin is done reading it. He lands on a page towards the middle, full of images of similar paper boxes.

"It's a Victorian puzzle purse," Hoseok says, as if this should hold some great significance.

"O...kay?" Jimin says.

"Yoongi hyung made it for me," Hoseok presses. "That's like... is that... do you think..."

"Well, what's it say?" Jimin asks.

"What?"

"It's a note, right?" Jimin clarifies. Hoseok nods slowly. "So, what's it say?"

"I don't know yet."

"Hyung," Jimin sighs. He closes his book and sets it aside. "Just read it. It's just a note."

"What if it's not just a note, though? What if it's..." Hoseok's voice drops lower. "...a note."

"That was an illuminating clarification, thank you. Look, Yoongi hyung said you were just exchanging notes, yeah? I mean, sure, phones are a thing and this is sort of overkill, but it's just... cards. Nice cards. Fun cards. Unless you want them to be-"

"It's not like that," Hoseok laughs nervously, his voice pitching back up. Jimin narrows his eyes at him. "Okay, look, maybe the notes are, like... escalating."

"Escalating how?" Jimin is bent far over his book by now.

"Well, I don't know," Hoseok mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "Just, we've gone back and forth now. And it's just small things, you know? Compliments, I guess. It's... affectionate?"

"Sure," Jimin says. "I mean, Yoongi hyung is always affectionate when he wants to be."

"Exactly," Hoseok says, latching on. "No, exactly, that's the thing. He is, he's so sweet and caring and loving with his friends."

"Well," Jimin ponders. "He can be snarly, too." Hoseok doesn't laugh, and Jimin waves it off. "Sorry, yeah. Yeah, he's all sentimental."

"So then why does this feel like... more. How do I know if it's more?"

"What about it feels like 'more'?"

Hoseok thinks over the past few days. There was the note in his locker at the gym, fluttering out and lightly scented with lavender. Elegant touch, with pretty words about elegant lines.

His elegant lines, according to the note. Dancing, at the recital on Friday. Can't wait to see your performance, it had said. P.S. you're always my favorite. the stage bows to you.

Again, that lingering blush. He had found paper to match it for his next note, hand painted with water color. Rambled a bit about that, and then said much the same as Yoongi in his reply, and knew it to be true. That Yoongi was his favorite, that he looked forward to the instrumentalists' showcase each recital season just to see his performance. Yoongi's elegant hands, eliciting beautiful music.

These notes did not feel simple. The catch in his breathing when he and Yoongi made eye contact in hallways, at dinner, over drinks with their colleagues, didn't feel simple.

"Hoseok hyung." Jimin's gaze is always so steady, bracing. Hoseok snaps back to the white table, to the overlay of color before them. "Do you want it to be more?"

"I just want to know if... maybe... But what if I'm blowing it out of proportion?"

Jimin leans back into his seat. "Open the note." He has a way of speaking sometimes that pulls everyone to attention.

Hoseok reaches for the note. The paper is smooth in his hands. He unfolds the edges carefully.

Hoseok,

I'd say you flatter me, but I wouldn't want to discourage your compliments.

Ha

Truthfully, you encourage me. Below even that truth, you inspire me.

I see you at my every recital, and, in that moment, I feel like I'm playing to you directly.

I wish I could play just to you this week. Something we haven't heard before, that we could hear together for the first time as I'm learning it.

When it's time for your recital, I'll be learning a new song just from the lines of you as you dance. I'll play it for you one day.

As always, until next time.

- Yoongi
P.S. for Thursday, what do you think - black bowtie? blue tie?

Hoseok pulls slightly at the edges, letting the paper lay closer to the table as Jimin skims over it. He tries not to melt into a puddle as Jimin reads, and quickly folds the puzzle purse back up when Jimin's done.

"Well?" Hoseok asks.

"Well, what?" Jimin says evenly.

"Is it, like..."

"Hyung, come on," Jimin nearly whines.

"I mean, it could mean anything, right?"

"I like to hope you'll get it on your own eventually, but instead I'll give you some advice. Tomorrow at his recital? Just ask him."

"Okay," Hoseok says. "Fine. Yeah. I can do that."

Jimin says nothing, just picks his book back up and returns to the same page. Hoseok places his forehead down onto the cool table top, and dreams up an easier tomorrow.

Yoongi is nervous.

That in itself is understandable. He's always nervous on recital days, never quite used to the crowd even though it's often mostly Seoul Arts students.

Still, there's something else underneath, a second river of energy building within him.

He adjusts his tie carefully. Jimin - the best of friends, the worst of friends, and roommate extraordinaire - had just about whipped it at his head that morning without a word. It's blue silk, subtle and tasteful. Yoongi tries not to think too much about the tie choice as Jimin wanders off now, deep in conversation with one of the chosen few undergrads that will perform in the Spring recital.

Yoongi's eyes wander around backstage until he sees who he's looking for.

Hoseok has flowers.

Yoongi's heart feels flipped around, hammering against his ribs. Hoseok has flowers, and a little gel in his hair so that his bangs swoop in a little heart shape around his forehead. He has a navy sports coat on over a white button up and gray slacks, and a shimmering glitter across his cheeks and the corners of his eyes, and he's beautiful.

He's beautiful.

Yoongi wants to do more than write about it.

Hoseok is nervous.

Hoseok is nervous and embarrassingly dolled up, thanks to Jimin and Taehyung's combined stylistic prowess.

He's holding flowers. Lilacs and light pink lilies, framed with lush green leaves. In his pocket, he has a note.

Yoongi is looking at him strangely as he approaches and Hoseok wonders if he should chuck the bouquet, but Yoongi reaches out immediately.

He looks a bit awestruck as he takes the flowers. "Are these for me?"

Hoseok blushes instantly. "Of course, hyung."

"Thank you," Yoongi says. "I... they're beautiful. Thank you."

"I think I'm supposed to give them to you after the recital," Hoseok laughs, and now it's Yoongi's turn for his cheeks to warm. He ducks down into the flowers before Hoseok can really take in his blush, but it's enough. It spurs him on.

"I liked your note," Hoseok whispers, leaning in. "Victorian puzzle purse. I looked it up."

"Good," Yoongi says, looking up. The blush creeps down his neck. Hoseok stares, wondering if he should reach forward, and whether his fingers would feel warmth in the space above Yoongi's skin. He swallows instead.

"Look, hyung, about the notes," he starts.

Yoongi falters, smile freezing in place, and Hoseok worries.

Worries at his lip, then at the space between them. Worries that the secret of the notes, the core mechanism, is that they don't exist in spoken words or in the corner of time he and Yoongi occupy together.

Maybe notes are enough. Maybe the notes are simple, just fun, just words between friends.

But Yoongi waits for him to go on, and Hoseok doesn't give himself time to wonder if that's encouragement or not.

He doesn't want the notes to be simple.

"Thank you. For the notes. They're nice," Hoseok says, his heart stop-starting in his chest. "Actually, they kind of have been, uh, making my day? It's... I just think, there's something about this," Hoseok says. His voice comes out uncertain, and he tries not to wince at the slight quiver in it. Yoongi looks back at him quizzically. Hoseok gestures between them. "About the notes, I mean. At least, I think..."

“What, exactly, do you think?” he asks with a tilt of his head. His dark hair has grown longer lately, curling behind his ear, and it fans out as he moves in. As if coming closer could bring breath back to Hoseok, could lend much needed air to Hoseok's words.

The thing is, the notes will always be simpler.

A piece of paper is so much easier to spread out between them than a still-beating piece of his heart.

Hoseok brought flowers, and he brought a note.

“I-I don’t… want to say yet." He replies. "Just in case.”

Yoongi laughs. “Why are you superstitious all of a sudden?”

“Nerves, hyung.”

"Oof, I'm the one about to go on stage. What will I do if you're nervous?" He pauses when Hoseok's face stays drawn. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

“Yes," Hoseok says, smiling. "Look, how about this. I’ll write it down.”

Yoongi's eyebrows pull up. "Right here, right now?"

"Well," Hoseok pulls the note out, neatly folded into a small square. He takes a steadying breath. It's now or never. "Not quite. I'm nothing if not a man of tradition. Here,” He tucks the paper into Yoongi’s jacket pocket. “So! That’s it then.”

“What is it?” Yoongi asks incredulously, reaching for his jacket pocket. Hoseok puts his hand out, stops him from looking at the note right there. Then, he reaches up and smooths away the little worry line that had appeared between Yoongi's eyebrows.

“It’s what I think." Hoseok says. "But don't read it now. Go out there. Let me see you play, just one more time, like this." Hoseok fixes Yoongi's lapel, grabs the bouquet for him. "And once it’s over, you can see if I was right.”

Yoongi keeps staring at him, head turned to one side, but his lips are quirking back up into a smile.

And then one of the stage hands is there with Jimin at her side, both of them poking and prodding at Yoongi to get ready for his set. They're about to usher him out when Hoseok reaches a hand forward, fingers catching on Yoongi's sleeve.

"Break a leg, hyung," Hoseok whispers and there's a moment where he thinks Yoongi is staring too intently at him. There's a moment, even, where he thinks Yoongi is drinking him in the same way Hoseok always does to him, where the space between them is shrinking and too big at the same time. Yoongi nods once, and walks into the eaves. Hoseok rushes out, back down to the seats before Yoongi begins.

The lights dim.

Yoongi is barely off the stage when he pulls the note from his pocket. There's applause at his back as the recital wraps up, but he's ambling for the shadow of the eaves. The paper is smooth, and his fingers slip over the edges as he unfolds it.

He reads. The smile is back on his face before he even reaches the end.

Yoongi,

You told me once that you could see me in the sea, diving for pearls.

I think I know what you meant by it. And I think you're right. Let this note be my way of living up to that version of me.

More to the point - you would so often say these things to me with your gaze turned away, and your voice low. Mercurial by nature, I think. Ink has a way of settling, though.

Maybe you think I don't notice all the ways you see me. I do.

Maybe you think all the times our eyes catch when we're out together, or the way my hand lingers too long near yours is a coincidence that escapes my notice. That I could only hover so close because I don't notice the hum of your skin near my own. I do. I notice you, Min Yoongi.

I think I see you as much as you see me.

But, though I do not fear much, I fear being wrong, if only just this once.

I like to think you wrote me that first note because of the way your hand felt when it threaded through my hair that one night. Yes, I noticed that, too.

Let me be right.

I know you like to stake your claim on rightness, competitive by nature. Let me be right, this once. Let us be right, together.

If I am right, then allow me this one last line. I have loved your notes. I hope they are not so simple as words on paper. Allow me, this once, to complicate them.

love,
hoseok

The words sink into him.

Someone is at his back again, pulling him back to center stage as he hastily tucks the note away.

Someone else is grabbing his hand, and they're bowing into white spotlight.

Yoongi can't hear any of it, but he can see all he needs.

Hoseok, front and center, his heart shaped smile, his cheerful applause. The curtains begin to fall, and Yoongi is beaming.

When Hoseok returns backstage, his heart is back to hammering. He gulps in cold air as he waits. Hoseok had bolted back up the steps as soon as the curtains had closed, but many of his classmates were still on the stage itself, chattering away. He's waiting now for Yoongi to make his way through them, back to where they had been.

The concert, as always was impeccable. Hoseok feels, for the life of him, as though he can't speak on any of it.

A few underclassmen pass by in a rush and Hoseok congratulates them on a job well done. All the while, his mind is elsewhere.

You were wonderful, hyung, he thinks. Still another part of him takes up the accompaniment.

Did you read it?

What a wonderful piece.

Tell me I'm right. Tell me there's something here.

You played exquisitely, hyung!

Please let me be right.

He mulls over the words he'd written, frets over whether it was too much, or, worse, not enough. He wonders if he's misjudged the whole thing and taken them both overboard. Hoseok's about ready to pace himself into the floor when Yoongi appears.

Yoongi stands just out of view of the main stage, half in shadow. When he looks at Hoseok, his eyes are shining even in the dim light. His lips open but no sound escapes.

Hoseok looks back. He can't bring himself to walk forward, to ask what he most wants to ask.

Finally, Yoongi moves towards him, and he readies himself to speak. Whatever comes next, he'll say what needs to be said.

"Hyung," Hoseok begins when Yoongi is next to him, looking for the answer in his eyes. "I-"

"You're right," Yoongi says, surging forward.

Yoongi kisses him.

Yoongi's hands come up to cup the back of his neck, and his lips are soft, almost pleading. Hoseok kisses back, placing his own hands on the slope of Yoongi's waist. Yoongi pulls away, his hands moving to cup Hoseok's cheeks. He looks into Hoseok's eyes, his own still shimmering. "You're always right." He kisses him again, and again, in a quick succession that leaves Hoseok feeling dizzy.

Hoseok smiles, and Yoongi does too, their teeth catching for a moment so that they put pull away with breathless laughter.

"Thank God," Hoseok says. He kisses Yoongi again.

Someone, probably Jimin, is whistling in their general direction. Hoseok flips them off without missing a beat, to the sound of laughter and cooing.

Their friends are packing up as the audience just beyond the curtain heads out. Someone else is already taking up a melody on the piano upstage. Another voice is calling for post-show drinks to show of hands. Somewhere, their friends are already plotting to rope them into it.

Tomorrow, there's another recital. The next day, there's birthdays and cake and quick cramming for midterm exams. All that to come, but who's counting?

Right now, Hoseok is kissing Yoongi, slow and sweet.

No notes. No post script.