Chapter Text
Hoseok coughs furiously as dust clouds around him from his harsh decent, or appearance, or whatever it is you do when you use floo powder. Is it like a Muggle plumbing system but for wizard transportation? Hoseok shakes his head quickly ridding the thoughts. He shouldn't get too scientific about things. He knows more than anyone that some things are just not explainable in certain ways. He should really stop taking his Muggle Studies class next year, it's not doing him any good.
The ash and dust clear around him just enough to make out the first two feet, and he crouches down under the ledge of the chimney, careful not to slip over the small fence surrounding the fireplace. He's done that too many times to be considered the normal. There's even a special section out of all his most cringe worthy moments labeled Hoseok-tripping-over-like-the-fool-he-is-and-not-looking-glamorous-at-all-doing-it.
Another ashy cloud surrounds him when he's finally climbed out, and he coughs so hard he can feel the bones in his rib cage almost rattle inside. But he doesn't worry about the noise; no one's home to be abruptly woken by his ruckus.
But something registers as completely wrong as the wooden floor doesn't whine in agony under Hoseok's weight, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion. He looks down at the floor, stepping on the spot a couple of more times, thinking his ears had just made a mistake. Nothing. Odd, he thinks, but moves on quickly. Two steps in he stops in his tracks, doing a double take over the wide, white sofa spread across the back of the room. It looks modern and untouched, completely different from the old, lumpy leather one in Hoseok's house.
Has his mom redecorated?
Hoseok walks in the unfamiliar room carefully, lifting his feat to keep himself soundless, because he might just not be in his own home and no body wants to get involved with any kind of authorities. There's an impeccably large television on the far wall, and the only reason he knows it's a television is because of it's unmistakable resemblance to the one in one of his dorm mates pictures. The picture was one of his mates family watching a game, cheering with red and white lines painted to their faces. They had looked mental, screaming with their mouths so wide Hoseok could almost hear their yells through the still picture. His mate had taught him a lot that afternoon, everything from football to televisions to Muggle pictures. As the thought passes through Hoseok's mind, he stepps further into the house, out of the living room and into the petite hallway. Despite it's size, the place looks amazingly glamorous, like someone had spent way too much time (and money) figuring out every placement of every decoration. Not a freckle of dust is present either, which makes Hoseok almost feel bad for dusting up the other room.
A loud creek makes him stop in his track, hand stretched up towards one of the framed pictures on the wall. There's a light shining in his face so brightly it could rival the sun's, and he hisses by instinct, cowering away from it like a little child.
"Who are you?" comes a deep voice, husky and low from sleep or lack of it, and the light comes painfully closer. Hoseok can feel the heat from it as it prickles his skin.
"Lower the wand, will ya, eh?" Hoseok says, reaching out blindly with his right hand. He hears a low huff, but the light is lowered, forming circle on the floor.
"It's not a wand by the way," the boy says, and Hoseok panics for a moment, because did he just spill secrets into the muggle world? Oh dear Merlin, he doesn't want to have to marry this person. There's a rule like that right? That the only Muggle you can tell about the Wizarding World is the one you'll marry? Oh Merlin, Hoseok's too young for this. "It's a flashlight. This is my wand," and then Hoseok feels a harsh jab under his Adam's apple that disrupts every thought and brain cell in his head, and he can barely swallow his fear as he looks down at the hand holding it. Long and slender fingers grip the black rod with precision and easiness, like this boy has grown up in Knockturn Alley all his life. He tries to gulp but the tip is in the way, and instead comes a weird gurgling noise from his throat. "Who are you?" the boy repeats, and Hoseok moves his gaze up to the face holding his life in his hands. Fair, ruffled bangs falls over the small, slit eyes, leaving only gaps for the boy to look through, and porcelain white skin has moonlight tainting shadows on it. His face is stale, Hoseok notices, and there's an unamused look on his face that makes him look old, but he can't be far from Hoseok's age.
"H-Hoseok Romsey." Hoseok's palms are clammy from nervousness, because oh dear magic of Merlin, he's literally neck to tip with a wand. The boy doesn't loosen his grip over the wand and keeps it strict against Hoseok's fragile skin, enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.
"What are you doing here?" he asks sternly, face almost unmoving as he speaks. There's a very clear accent in his voice, posh, like he's lived in the Buckingham Palace all his life. It's all very proper and so fluid to Hoseok's ears that he almost forgets the question all together.
"I...uh...came to the wrong place. Honest mistake, yeh?" he tries to smile apologetically but the boy doesn't soften, so he awkwardly tries to cough through the harsh jab. The boy looks cynically up and down Hoseok's body, like he's mentally tearing through layers of his skin, flesh and muscles until nothing but skeleton is left. It sends a horribly long shiver up Hoseok's back that he definitely doesn't like. Finally the boy lowers his wand, seeing Hoseok as nothing but a weird teenager and not an actual threat to his existence. Which could be accurate by most part.
"What are you doing in East London? You sound....northern," the boy phrases, with the slightest tint of disapproval in his voice. The boy looks like he's a pure-blood in the presence of mudblood folk, but ironically, this seems to be a Muggle born.
"Honest mistake, yeh? I'm obviously not-" Hoseok looks around knowingly and feels awkwardness float in long strays around them, "-home." The boy simply looks at him, that same disapproving glint in his eyes that seems to grow larger and larger in the crappy moonlight. "Well! I might just get goin', see ya 'round," he quickly marches back to the living room, and as he's about to crawl back into the small fireplace, the boy speaks up with a louder voice.
"There's no floo powder."
Hoseok looks at him like he's seen a ghost, eyes wide and eyebrows tucked under his fringe. "What? Why? Everyone has floo powder."
"Muggles don't use the floo network," the boy states in a matter of fact kind of way, tone judging Hoseok almost professionally.
Hoseok stands crouched halfway through the chimney opening like a fish gaping for water, and aimlessly looks around the room. The television, the modern couch, the non-moving pictures. Why did he have to stumble across some Muggle home? "Yeah....yeah...okay," he mutters, all his happiness drained from his body completely. "Does this mean I have to walk?"
"If you want," the boy says indifferently, and then silence is drawn upon them. Hoseok thinks that the boy is about to leave him in the middle of the living room from the way he's turning around, but two slender fingers that almost go unnoticed under the evening shadows rise, motioning for Hoseok to follow. His feet obey.
"Eh, can we settle something?" Hoseok starts nervously, his forgotten wand still gripped next to him like stone. The boy makes an acknowledging sound, and Hoseok continues. "You're not gonna kill me, right?"
"No. Too much work," he answers, but it doesn't make Hoseok feel any more welcomed.
"What's your name?" Hoseok tries to ease, but this guy just seems like he's got a wand up his arse twenty-four seven. He doesn't answer though, and continues to lead Hoseok through the house and into the cozy kitchen in the back. The boy looks so out of place here compared to in the living room and the hallway - the kitchen too warm and earthly compared to the cold physique this boy gives off. Even with Hoseok's shallow observation, the boy finds his way through all the sections, getting cups, spoons, and a honey jar from all corners of the kitchen, like he's grown up in this household. He probably has, Hoseok thinks to himself stupidly, but there isn't a single picture of this boy on the walls. Maybe just a baby photo here and there, but nothing more than one couple growing older and older by the years. The bright ceiling light shows more of the boy's face, and it's much more finesse and elegance than Hoseok had originally thought, but there's a harsh expression on his face, like he's bored out of his mind and in need of something eventful for once.
"Yoongi," the boy finally says once he's turned the kettle on. Hoseok is caught off guard a little in his seat by the kitchen island, but snaps back into reality within seconds.
"Hoseok," he replies, and the boy - Yoongi - nods conclusively. The awkward silence returns, but it's not as thick as the first fog. This one is more about unfamiliarity, not guarded ambushes. It feels a little like the first day at Hogwarts all over again, but back then, Hoseok had been more of a chatter box than ever. Now, he's grown up a little, and Yoongi seems hard to reach out to.
Yoongi seems to sense it too, but his face is unmoving when he prepares the cups of tea for them. It all seems so out of character compared to the first moments Hoseok's had with him. He's weird, Hoseok concludes after a moment of more silence.
"Here," the other boy says, and down the counter slides a plate of perfectly shaped chocolate cookies.
"Oh, you bake?" Hoseok smiles, happy to have found something to ease the tension floating.
"Store bought," Yoongi replies short and clear, and Hoseok's fsmile stiffens. His mouth forms a small 'o' but nothing is said because he might have stuffed his face with three cookies already. What? You get hungry after an eventful day.
Over tea, not much is said. Surprise. Not much eye contact is exchanged either, and it all feels too awkward for Hoseok. It's like he's finally found his contradicting half, the brother that was stuck with all the negativity whilst he got all the positivity. For the first time in his life, Hoseok has nothing to say, not even an excuse to slither his way out of this household. Forget the floo powder, he's walking home instead.
"Do you always say wrong address?" Yoongi interrupts the silence, and Hoseok silently pays thanks to whatever higher being there is.
"Huh? Uh, nah, just when I'm sleepy."
"Oh."
That's that. Hoseok doesn't know what to do. Should he ask about the pictures? Why Yoongi isn't in them? Or should he ask why the house is so quiet and why no one's come down to check what the noise is about? But then again, there's not exactly any sounds exchanged between the two of them.
"'Why are you inviting a random person for tea?'" Yoongi says out of the blue, and Hoseok turns to look at him confused. "That's probably what you're thinking." Oh.
"Among other things," Hoseok answers with the cup lined up to his mouth, hot tea steaming over his dry lips. "It's very weird of you to trust me so quickly."
"I don't trust you," Yoongi replies flatly. There seems to be words hanging on the edge of his lips but they're drowned by the tea that he sips on.
"I'm not gonna kill ya, ya know," Hoseok tries to joke, eyeing the other boy through the corner of his eyes. Yoongi looks oddly calm but bothered at the same time, staring off into nothingness with focused gazes.
"Yeah, I know."
"Then why don't you trust me?"
"Because you're a stranger that's just messed up my living room," he says in mouth of Hoseok.
"That was an honest mistake, mate." Hoseok holds his hands up in defense, but Yoongi doesn't make anything out of it and just sighs through his nose. Hoseok feels like he should take that back, but he doesn't know why. The air around Yoongi seems gloomier now, down and depressed enough to wither plants. "Look, I can leave if you want me too," Hoseok says a little quieter.
"If you want to," Yoongi says noncommittally, and Hoseok huffs a deep breath at that. Guess what. Awkward Silence. Yay.
"Do you go to Hogwarts?" Hoseok instead asks, despite hating bringing up school in the middle of summer, but this guy is asking for it. Yoongi makes a noise of disapproval, and yeah, that concludes no one really likes school all that much. "Yeh, I feel ya."
"School isn't really my top priority right now."
"Then what is?"
"Figuring out what the hell you're doing here. You don't seem all that sleepy, to be honest." Yoongi finally turns to look at Hoseok, and he's staring into Hoseok's eyes, it's almost scrutinizing.
"Uh, I just stumbled in," he tries, but Yoongi is sending him a raised look. "Look, I was supposed to do something else and just pick up some things at home, but these guys where really close to nipping my arse, and yeh, I might have mispronounced something on the way."
"What were you running from?" Yoongi asks, the tone of his voice slightly more engaged, as if Hoseok is actually interesting enough to pay attention too. Geez, he feels so special.
"Huh?" Hoseok's voice cracks, and maybe he shouldn't have said that part of the story. Sigh, doesn't he know how to keep his mouth shut? Sometimes it just runs and runs and runs and he can't shut it off. Yoongi raises his eyebrow further, and it disappears in the mountain off blond, messy hair. "Just, you know....some people I owe money," Hoseok shrugs.
"Yeah, okay." Hoseok can hear how much this sucker is judging him, and he's so close to doing something about it when he sees the small tugs of Yoongi's lips lifting. It looks unnatural, but fluid at the same time and they curl in a very cat like way. It's very relaxing, and make this restless night a tad bit better, especially over hot tea. It gives Hoseok just the tiniest bit of hope for a future without awkward silences.
"You don't want to know half of it."