Chapter Text
“PARK JIMIN.”
Hoseok slams the bathroom door open, fists clenched and breathing heavy.
“PARK JIMIN, YOU’RE A DEAD MAN.”
The orange-haired sophomore is bent in half with laughter on the couch, almost crying. He keeps attempting to say something, but ends up hiccuping more laughter whenever he takes a breath.
“This— this is revenge,” Jimin finally gasps. “For setting Expensive Girl as my ringtone.”
“I was supporting our dear friend Namjoon in his efforts to become a musician!” Hoseok wails. He drops to his knees, fists held high in despair.
“Because of you, everyone in Art History thinks I’m a pervert!”
“Have you seen your own baby face? No one thinks you’re a pervert but me!” Hoseok mourns. “Are we not soul brothers, Jimin? How could you do this? I have class in an hour!”
Taehyung emerges from his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yah, it’s 8am, why are you jerks so loud?” He takes his hands from his eyes, then he takes in the scene. Hoseok is kneeling on the floor, his face creased with anguish. His face is also adorned with a giant sharpie dick on his cheek, complete with hairy balls and a few drops of ejaculate. A grin splits across Taehyung’s face as he starts shaking with silent laughter.
“It’s too fucking early for this,” Taehyung wheezes as he crumples onto the couch next to Jimin. “Jiminnie, you have to warn me the night before,” Taehyung wipes a tear from his eye. “I wasn’t prepared to cry this morning.”
“I wasn’t either,” Hoseok says bitterly, dragging his hands down his dickified face.
--
Hoseok spends 15 minutes desperately scrubbing his face in the bathroom (a bust), then another 15 minutes desperately knocking on every door in the complex (so far, also a bust). Not one of his peers had rubbing alcohol or concealer because, really, why would they? One frat guy (while laughing his ass off) offered Hoseok some cheap vodka, but Hoseok turned him down. He knows he’d more likely down the bottle in sorrow than use it on his face, and it’s only a Wednesday morning.
He reaches the end of the hall, and he throws himself against the last door as a substitute for knocking.
“Yoongi-hyung!” he cries, slapping his hands on the wood like a frustrated toddler. “Wake up, I have a 9am, and I need help!”
Min Yoongi opens the door, looking like Satan, the grim reaper, and Hoseok’s evil (yes, evil) Calculus professor all in one. Hoseok quickly stumbles away, scared by the aura pouring from his usually grumpy (but never murderous ) lab partner.
“What the fuck do you want?” Yoongi glares, dark circles deep and patience shallow.
“Uh,” Hoseok says in a small voice. He points at the huge dick on his face. “Does it need explaining?”
Yoongi looks at him for a while, then pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He gestures for Hoseok to come in. “You’re doing my Bio homework for a month.”
Hoseok happily follows Yoongi to his room and jumps on his bed, crying endless praises until Yoongi smacks him.
“You woke me up two hours early. At least be quiet,” Yoongi grumbles, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes.
“Sorry, sorry, I love you!” Hoseok smiles widely and Yoongi can’t hate him for just that second. “Y’know, hyung, I didn’t know you were so scary in the morning. I mean, you’re crabby in lab, but I thought you were going to kill me just now,” Hoseok says, eyes wide and honest.
Yoongi snorts. “I definitely considered it.”
Hoseok looks thoroughly offended. “You would never!”
“Hey, I’m saving your ass right now, remember? I’m only nicer in lab because I’ve had 4 cups of coffee by then.” Yoongi looks fondly at his Keurig before he takes out a wipe and starts scrubbing at Hoseok’s cheek.
“Ow, shit, hyung! Gentler please, I already rubbed my skin raw this morning,” Hoseok pouts. Yoongi rolls his eyes, but complies. Satisfied with the softer touch, Hoseok’s eyes wander as he takes in the room. Yoongi lives in the same apartment layout as him: three individual bedrooms that share a living area and bathroom. Yoongi’s room somehow resembles his personality: minimalist but cluttered, and badly lit. There are at least ten paper coffee cups piled on his desk. Hoseok grins.
“Sorry it’s not clean,” Yoongi says, taking note of Hoseok’s inspection. “But not really, since you didn’t exactly call beforehand.”
“I looove you,” Hoseok sings, throwing his arms above his head in a heart, nearly smacking Yoongi in the process. “And I like your room. It’s similar to you! But seriously, drink something other than coffee.”
“No,” Yoongi says simply, then stops rubbing. He looks at the wipe, now stained black, and tosses it.
“Anyways, why do you have alcohol wipes? No one else on the hall did,” Hoseok says, curious.
“They're for taking off the makeup I wear sometimes,” Yoongi shrugs. The faint form of a penis still shows on Hoseok’s cheek, so Yoongi reaches into his desk drawer for foundation. He shakes the bottle a little and frowns. “It’s probably too light for you, but it’ll have to do.”
Hoseok closes his eyes as Yoongi dots the foundation across his face and starts blending. “Hmm, this feels pretty nice. You’re like a makeup artist. Do you do modeling at Big Hit on the side or something? Is that what the makeup’s for?”
“Hell no. Seokjin is the only model that lives in this dorm,” Yoongi says, pushing Hoseok’s hair back so he can dab the sponge across his forehead. He tries not to think about how cute Hoseok looks with his forehead showing. Though he’s still cute with his bangs down too.
Fuck, Yoongi, focus.
“Um, but Seokjin is the one that got me into makeup. It makes me look better in my videos, so why not, right?”
“Oh yeah, you’re famous on Youtube or something, aren’t you? For your music and stuff?” Hoseok grins widely.
“I would hardly say I’m famous,” Yoongi says as he pats foundation onto the apples of Hoseok’s cheeks. “I’m thankful for my subscribers, but it doesn’t pay my tuition or anything.”
“Okay, but a full-time job wouldn’t even pay for tuition.”
“Touche.”
Hoseok giggles (“I’m ticklish!”) as Yoongi blends the light foundation into his darker neck. Yoongi finally sets the makeup with powder and lets Hoseok look in the mirror. He gasps theatrically.
“I look like a model!” Hoseok marvels, turning his head to admire every angle. “My skin hasn’t looked this good since I was a baby.”
“Right?” Yoongi grins despite himself, and he puts the makeup away. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he says with emphasis.
“Thank you thank you thank you, Yoongi-hyung!” Hoseok nearly tackles the man, trying to give him a kiss on the cheek while Yoongi (very desperately) shoves him away.
“Okay, get the fuck out,” Yoongi pushes Hoseok to the door. “Don’t you have to get to class or something?”
Hoseok pales under his already-pale makeup. “Oh shit, what time is it?”
Yoongi glances at the clock. “8:50.”
“Bye hyung see you in lab!” Hoseok yells over his shoulder as he sprints out the door.
Yoongi sticks his head in the hallway to watch Hoseok stumble into his room, stumble out with his backpack, then speed off down the stairs. He laughs and closes the door.
The junior pads sleepily back to his room and flops down on his bed. He feels exhaustion seep back into his body without Hoseok’s energy to keep it at bay.
Jung Hoseok.
His neck feels too hot, and his ears, and shit, Yoongi just touched Hoseok’s face, a lot. His skin was soft and warm and his eyelashes were long and he kept smiling at Yoongi and fuck.
Yoongi groans and stuffs his face into his pillow. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep.