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“Come on,” comes Namjoon’s voice from over Yoongi’s shoulder, insistent and sounding like a true and utter pest. It’s not even ten in the morning and yet here he is, proving to be the constant menace that sits on Yoongi’s shoulder, whispering the most terrible ideas in his ear.
Namjoon is never good news, but then again, that’s exactly the reason why they’ve grown to be such good friends.
“Hyung, listen to me,”
Yoongi’s done with listening to Namjoon’s inane ideas, loosely interpreted by the younger boy as cute and pretty good ideas for overcoming Yoongi’s crippling anxiety about asking the one guy he’s been crushing on for the past year (well, technically five years, but. Semantics.) or so out.
None of Namjoon’s ideas work, because all of Namjoon’s ideas suggest Yoongi explode from the inside out. As if he was that flammable that he could just implode at will.
But, at the thought of Hoseok’s smile whenever Yoongi catches him off guard, Yoongi does sort of feel like he may just explode. It’s going to be a mess of guts and gore and it will all be Namjoon’s fault, if ever Yoongi does decide to go out with a bang.
As if it were that easy, anyway.
Which brings them back to the point at hand - Yoongi’s friends being the least helpful bunch when it comes to actual advice. How many times has this bunch of idiots gone to Yoongi for advice? Far too many, Yoongi’s lost count. But the one time Yoongi needs good and solid advice that may just not end with him being run over by a freight train, his friends don’t deliver.
If Jimin suggests another terribly orchestrated blind date that isn’t even blind, not when Yoongi knows who it’s going to be with, then Yoongi will have to print out a termination letter for Jimin to sign, because there’s no way Yoongi will be friends with him if all he’s got in that thick head of his are terribly cheesy ideas. Not to mention stupid. Terribly cheesy ideas, there.
“What is it this time?” Yoongi groans, shifting in his seat on the couch. He reaches for the remote on the table, completely ignoring Namjoon chattering by his side. Yoongi’s learnt, over the years, the helpful act of hearing but not truly listening. So he hears Namjoon but none of the boy’s words register. Not one single word.
“Why don’t you just let us set you two up?” Namjoon says for the nth time. All of his friends have suggested the same thing or other, and just like every suggestion, Yoongi shoots it down. This is something he has to deal with himself. He can do it, eventually.
“You were never this bad about asking anybody out,” Namjoon follows, a little exasperated now.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder to glare at him. He can already feel the insult tripping out from the tip of his tongue but he bites back on it. His friends mean well. Namjoon might be a knucklehead sometimes, a total klutz most of the time, but he’s got a good heart, and he means well. Yoongi just has to stop taking out his frustrations on the poor boy and remind himself that he’s only trying to help. That’s all.
“And it’s just Hoseok,” Namjoon says, giving up already, if his scoff at Yoongi is anything to go by. He pushes himself off of the couch, leaving with a mumbled, I’m hungry.
And that’s that for an eventful Tuesday afternoon.
It’s been a full month of his friends pushing him into asking Hoseok out, and Yoongi can say, with utmost confidence, that the past month has been the worst fucking month of his life. It had been a mistake, a confession eased out of him by liquor and a good time. Namjoon and Seokjin had been the only ones present, but trust Yoongi’s friends to not keep anything to themselves.
He’s got friends with kind hearts, but sometimes. Sometimes they’re just too much.
So Yoongi gives up on Namjoon, too, and fixes his attention back to the crappy movie currently playing. If Yoongi can sit on the idea of asking Hoseok out for much longer, then maybe he’ll finally get the courage to do it. It doesn’t take much to just blurt out an invitation to dinner, movies, or a drink, does it? No, but somehow, Yoongi always ends up staring at Hoseok, barely able to get a good sentence out of his mouth.
Way to always play it cool, Yoongi. Really.
—
“I have a good feeling about him,” Seokjin sets down the two cups of coffee between them, opting out of a regular greeting to antagonise Yoongi even more. “Hoseok, I mean,”
If they could just spend more time catching up with each other and less time discussing Yoongi’s stupid crush (the kind of crush that’s acceptable for a middle schooler, not to a grown young man. Honestly.), then maybe Yoongi will stop wanting to just tip the entire contents of his hot coffee onto Seokjin’s side of the table (and how convenient, Seokjin’s wearing white washed jeans. How easily it would stain.).
“I figure,” Yoongi says, quickly skirting over the topic. Enough talk about Yoongi’s inability to just be blunt and ask someone out on a date. (It’s really never been this hard, Yoongi wants to say, just for his defence. But - but there’s always something about Hoseok that holds Yoongi back. Maybe it’s because Hoseok is too much of a good friend that he does’t. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.)
“You look tired,” is what Seokjin counters, completely disregarding the fact that it’s midterms week and everyone, literally everyone roaming the halls like a ghost in their campus is tired. Every single one of them. “Please don’t tell me you’re still into cramming,”
If Yoongi wants to push everything to the last minute, studying, too, then he will. Seokjin’s raised eyebrow and little tsk will not change that. Although - although it really should, because Yoongi’s buried under a pile of school work, and chapters that he still has to revise. Over and over again, just to get through the first round of exams alive.
“Still cramming,” Yoongi says, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He notices Seokjin’s little squint, the disapproval clear on his face, but. It’s midterms and Yoongi really has other terrible habits that Seokjin can actually worry about. Smoking just isn’t one of them. “But, y’know, I’m getting by,”
(Yoongi bites on the urge to tell Seokjin to relay the message that everyone should just shut up about the sad, lonely state of Yoongi’s current love life - which is nonexistent, but still, it’s a topic that’s far too easily brought up in conversation. It’s like his friends just live to make him miserable.)
“Have you talked to - “ it must be the look Yoongi shoots Seokjin, because he quickly backtracks, mouth pressed into a thin line, and his question forgotten. For the meantime. “I mean. Jimin and Taehyung are still going to throw a party after the exams?”
Of course they’re still going to throw a party after the exams. Whether the two of them passed or failed, Yoongi’s pretty damn sure they’ll still be throwing parties. It’s never a question of if with Jimin and Taehyung, but rather, when.
“That’s what I heard,” Yoongi murmurs, a little miffed now because he’s been trying to light his cigarette for the past forty seconds. Seokjin looks at him with a smug look on his face, as if a faulty lighter is a good enough reason for Yoongi to actually quit smoking. As if. “I think it’s just going to be a small one this time, though,”
Small is relative when the topic is Taehyung and Jimin’s parties. Small might just be the handful of friends, or small could be their entire introduction to politics and law class. Really, it’s all completely relative.
“I hope,” and here Seokjin kind of sighs, because there aren’t a lot of Taehyung and Jimin parties that don’t end with a terrible hangover the size of Russia. Although Yoongi’s hangovers have been far and few in between, he still can attest to that fact: that there is no escaping a hangover when one decides to join a party. “Is Hoseok coming?”
“Well, fuck if I know, Jin,” Yoongi hears himself say too fast, brain to mouth filter apparently not working. They’re smackdab in the middle of midterms, Yoongi’s cigarette is still not lit after his hundredth attempt, and here is one of Yoongi’s closest friends, still teasing him about his far too obvious and hopeless crush. Jesus Christ. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean - Jesus Christ, Jin. Fuck if I know.”
Seokjin erupts in laughter, head thrown back in amusement.
Yoongi just cracks a small, slight smile, and hopes that it’s enough of an apology after his sudden outburst.
—
Exams come, and exams go, and Yoongi navigates his way through an entire week of swimming with the sharks successfully. He’s a little bit beaten down and bruised, the dark circles under his eyes testifying to that fact, but other than that, he’s completely okay. So okay that he’s up for a party, because alcohol after a brutal exam sounds like the perfect idea. All the goddamn time.
It’s Namjoon who drags him successfully out of bed at half past eight in the evening (Yoongi had taken a nap, after he’d decided to wake up maybe a little after nine to go and crash the party. Namjoon, obviously, had better ideas.). “You’re going to break their hearts if you don’t show up,” Namjoon says, literally dragging Yoongi out of his room and into the streets.
Taehyung and Jimin’s shared apartment isn’t very far, just a few blocks away from Yoongi’s. They walk in silence for the first ten minutes, only trading the lighter between them. Yoongi is still bogged down by exams, and Namjoon’s face shows the exact same thing, but the call of liquor on a cold, breezy night is too much of an allure to resist.
When they get to the party, it’s to find that the apartment is almost devoid of actual guests. It’s just a few handful of them, as Seokjin had hoped. And a handful is literally just seven people, the hosts included.
Which explains why Yoongi spots Hoseok immediately.
But before Yoongi can even raise his hand in greeting, he’s suddenly smothered in a hug, Jimin flinging himself at him, arms coming around his middle, tight. Jimin is a little bit drunk, if the smell and the constant giggling is anything to go by.
“Hyung, you made it,” Jimin laughs, disbelief colouring his tone (as if Yoongi wouldn’t have made it. It’s sort of tradition now, for the seven of them to gather after exams. It could be through a party, or just for a round of good coffee and whining about the exams they were sure to have bombed.). “Hey, everyone, it’s Yoongi hyung,”
Yoongi messes up Jimin’s hair and scowls at him, “Thanks for the stellar introduction,”
Namjoon, with half a mouthful of pretzels, says, “Why didn’t I get an introduction, too?”
Jimin just laughs at the both of them before he pulls completely away from Yoongi. He gestures to the kitchen, a mess of too much alcohol for seven people, and the table overflowing with food. Too much for seven people, too. But - but whatever. This is them, and this is what they do. They don’t always need the loud music and the trill of a dozen people’s laughter and yells. Sometimes, a gathering like this is enough. (Or, it’ll always be enough.)
There’s not a lot going on, well, except for the beer pong table Taehyung had set up right in the middle of their living room. He’s going against Jeongguk, although Yoongi has a feeling, this early on in the game, that one of them is trying to purposely lose. Or, it could just be that they’re both very bad at beer pong, in which case, Yoongi feels sorry for them.
Hoseok bypassing Namjoon and going straight towards Yoongi surprises him, but true to Yoongi’s own pledge twenty minutes ago (‘I will not look like an idiot, not tonight, anyway.’), he manages to pull on a smile (that he hopes doesn’t look too weird, or that he’s plotting a diabolical murder. That sort of smile is reserved for when Namjoon breaks into his apartment at ungodly hours on a Saturday.), and says, “Hi,”
“Hey,” Hoseok smiles at him, already passing Yoongi his first drink for the night. Yoongi doesn’t know what it is, and his entire childhood has been spent with his mother telling him of the dangers of accepting drinks from a stranger, but still, Yoongi takes it, because, one: Hoseok isn’t a stranger, and two: because Hoseok isn’t a stranger. Two very valid reasons.
Some people have smiles that can light up the room. Some have smiles that can push away rainy days. There’s people, too, who can smile and make everything okay. Hoseok’s smile - Hoseok’s smile is a hybrid of all the best, most wonderful smile possible, Yoongi thinks. Because it’s too fucking bright. His smile can light up this entire block. His smile is too, well, too big for the room. Too big for the world. Yoongi’s always thought that of Hoseok.
It’s a bit difficult to look away from Hoseok, but even more difficult to continue staring at him. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or what to say, so instead, he downs his drink in one entire shot. The vodka sloshes down his throat and burns through his oesophagus. He hacks out a cough, almost dropping the red cup as he tries to balance himself back after that.
“I thought that was beer,” Yoongi tries to save face, but it’s too late. Hoseok must think him a complete and utter idiot now. But instead, Hoseok just barks out a laugh, surprised but not mocking. Like he’s just, well. Like he’s genuinely amused. And maybe only slightly concerned for Yoongi’s health, given his terrible drinking habit and judgement.
(And perhaps, a small voice in the back of Yoongi’s mind pipes up, his mother had been right about accepting unknown drinks from other people.)
“It was clear,” Hoseok tries, finally able to push down his laughter. God, even his eyes fucking twinkle with delight. What is he, Yoongi thinks, some kind of character from a Disney movie? There’s no other explanation for it. Yoongi looks at Hoseok and he feels - well, he feels like he just wants to lean into him. To be close. He wants to know what Hoseok’s hand might feel like, their fingers brushing. Yoongi wants to know so many things but he doesn’t know how to get from Point A to Point Z. It’s quite difficult. A lot of bridges to cross. Trenches to avoid. Dungeons trolls to out run. It’s not a walk in the park.
“Sorry,” Hoseok apologises, reaching out a hand to brush at the collar of Yoongi’s shirt. “You had a little bit of - erm. Powder, yeah,”
Yoongi stares at him for a beat too long, and Hoseok holds it.
The rest of their friends are suspiciously out of sigh, although, unsurprisingly, Yoongi can still hear them. They’re crowded somewhere. And -
And a fucking lightbulb just goes out in Yoongi’s mind. This might very well just be one of the many stupid ideas his friends have orchestrated. Their friends, the same, chiding voice in the back of Yoongi’s mind corrects.
Yoongi chances a quick glance around the room - he can see the movement of their shadows from one room, can hear their muffled talking. They’re definitely not in the living room, so there’s only two other options: the bedroom, or the bathroom. Judging their friends, they’re probably huddled against the door of the bathroom, because of course.
“Where’d everybody go?” Yoongi asks, rather lamely.
Hoseok’s expression falls, just a bit. He looks around the empty apartment and frowns, “Uh, probably out on a smoke break?”
What a coincidence is all Yoongi wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Nah, Seokjin would probably smack the cigarette out of their hands. But, we should go,” and it’s not an invitation to leave the party, if Hoseok looking around for his discarded bags and shoes is any indication. Rather, it’s just a simple invitation to get the hell out of the room and smoke.
His friends have kind hearts, they mean well, is a mantra Yoongi repeats, again and again, in his mind. They mean well. They have kind hearts. Yoongi will fucking set their beds on fire the next morning. Just the usual things he has to think of to keep himself from pushing his friends into oncoming traffic. The usual, really.
Hoseok follows Yoongi out of the apartment and down the steps until they’re back outside. The others are probably out of the bathroom, now. Probably talking amongst themselves. Yoongi doesn’t put it past them to be peering out of the windows.
He passes the lighter to Hoseok, who takes it with a quiet thanks. They smoke in silence for a few minutes, one hand holding a cigarette, and the other the remnants of their drink. It’s not vodka anymore, but when Yoongi takes another sip, he can still feel his mouth burning. Like there’s acid running down his throat and dropping straight into his stomach.
Or, it might just be Hoseok’s effect on him.
“So, how are you?” Hoseok flicks the ashes off of his cigarette and turns the slightest bit towards Yoongi. Gravitation, Namjoon would have said. As fucking if, Yoongi thinks.
The question could mean anything - and there are probably a hundred different answers, all varying from the other, but Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking Hoseok’s ear off. Besides, there’s not even a lot of things he can say, not when the words are lodged in his throat. Not when his brain is refusing to construct actual sentences.
It’s official, the exams had made Yoongi completely stupid.
“Okay,” Yoongi finally says, looking up at Hoseok. He’s younger than him, not by a lot, but still. Hoseok is still a few inches taller than him. “I mean, things could be better.”
“Hey, things could always get better,” Hoseok playfully interjects, bumping their shoulders. It’s - it’s something, contact with Hoseok. It’s always something, really. Whenever they sit too close together. Or whenever their shoulders brush when walking side by side. It’s always something.
“That’s true, yeah,” Yoongi nods, feeling the start of a smile slowly tug across his mouth. This time, it doesn’t come out as pained, or as awkward. This time, it comes out more naturally. Like Yoongi’s just, well, to put it simply: happy.
And he is. This isn’t much, this smoke break with Hoseok, but it’s all Yoongi has with him right now, and he’ll take it.
“You wanna go back up?” Hoseok crushes his cigarette with the heel of his shoe. He doesn’t move towards the door, but instead, he takes a couple of steps into the street. It’s still early in the evening - not quite past midnight yet - but this neighbourhood is relatively quiet. Yoongi doesn’t have to worry about cars speeding through a one-way block.
Yoongi follows Hoseok into the middle of the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Hoseok’s still got that smile on his face, easy and soft, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he doesn’t mind being stuck outside with Yoongi. “What’ve you got in mind?” Yoongi asks, trailing after Hoseok.
They’re walking back up the street, facing opposite general direction of any incoming traffic. There’s no traffic. Just the silence of the cool night wrapping around the both of them. Just him and Hoseok, taking a rather casual walk at eleven in the evening.
“Nothing, really. Just thought we could go for a walk,” Hoseok says, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi. Shooting him a smile. One of those smiles - those smiles that could, no doubt, set an entire forest on fire. “If you want,” and this comes out much lower, a little more tentative. Like he isn’t sure if Yoongi’s on board, or if Yoongi thinks him crazy for wanting to go out for a walk at eleven in the goddamn evening.
“We can do that,” Yoongi says, catching up to Hoseok. Their hands brush every few moments, and Yoongi finds that there’s no crippling fear of the unknown and of fucking up that seizes him by the throat. No, nothing of that sort. Walking beside Hoseok, their shoulders bumping, their fingers brushing - it actually calms Yoongi down, because if Hoseok had minded, then he would’ve put distance between them.
And yet.
And yet here they are, walking in the middle of the street, with only the sheen light of the moon ghosting over them.
Hoseok bursts out into laughter when he realises that they’d both stopped at a stop sign. Yoongi follows suit, because he doesn’t need an entire gallon of alcohol to be drunk. He thinks Hoseok’s laughter is enough to cause complete and utter intoxication.
“This is for cars,” Yoongi says, rather lamely.
Hoseok leans against him, and this time, their shoulders press together. This time, there’s barely any space between them. This time - this time, Yoongi thinks he can do it. Thinks that he can form more than one short sentence at a time.
“Hoseok, hey. I wanted to ask you something,” Yoongi murmurs, voice low. Quiet. But Hoseok hears him all the same, turning away from the large stop sign to look at Yoongi. Too close, Yoongi realises. But - but still not close enough. “I - “
And it’s really only because the universe must hate Yoongi, because all of a sudden, a car is right behind them, high-beams on, and their horn blaring.
Fingers circle around Yoongi’s wrist, and he feels himself being dragged behind Hoseok, pulled quickly out of the way.
It wasn’t even a dangerous situation, just an angry driver at eleven in the evening.
Yoongi realises, after a few beats, that Hoseok is still holding his hand. His grip on Yoongi’s is tight, but not too much that the pressure hurts.
He doesn’t let go, not even when he asks, “You were saying something?”
Yoongi looks at Hoseok’s hand. Looks at his hand. He doesn’t mind. Not in the slightest bit.
But instead of the words that Yoongi wants to say tripping out of his mouth, he shakes his head, and laughs. “No. Nothing. I forgot,”
Realising that he’s still got a grip around Yoongi’s wrist, Hoseok drops his hand and pulls away from Yoongi. He doesn’t look embarrassed, though. Just. Just a little bit sheepish.
And if Hoseok stares at him for a second too long, Yoongi doesn’t mind. It gives him more than enough reason to be looking at Hoseok, too.
—
The next day, Yoongi wakes up to his phone ringing and over a dozen texts. They’re all from Hoseok.
Seokjin was wrong when he said a party the likes Taehyung and Jimin throw would always leave for a terrible hangover the size of Russia, because Yoongi’s hangover is so much more than just the geographical length and size of Russia. A good estimation would probably be Russia plus Asia. That’s fitting enough.
With sleep still in his eyes, and a headache that makes him feel like slamming his head against cold, hard concrete would be the best remedy for it, Yoongi pads to the door, yawning every other ten seconds.
Opening the door and finding Hoseok looking up at him with a barely apologetical smile is a surprise, because, one: it’s probably one in the afternoon and Yoongi looks like a complete and otter mess. Two: Yoongi feels like he might just die. This is it, death caused by mixing too many drinks. Death by alcohol poisoning. And, three: the last thing Yoongi had been expecting, when he’d rolled out of bed not two minutes ago to a call he’d just barely missed and texts from Hoseok that he hasn’t got the time to scroll through yet, is finding the actual boy standing on his doorstep, with a bag of what could only be muffins, and a tray of coffee in his other hand.
“What are you doing here?” Apparently, Yoongi’s brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t wake up the same time as he does. He quickly amends his less than stellar greeting with a sheepish smile, and makes to grab for the coffee.
Hoseok grins, “Right, coffee first, good morning, Hoseok, last,”
Yoongi waves the comment away and motions for Hoseok to come in.
His apartment is a mess, but Yoongi’s seen worst. (See also: Namjoon’s mess of a flat. Taehyung and Jimin’s apartment the mornings after a party come as a close second.).
“I have breakfast,” Hoseok is practically beaming at him, raising up the paper bag in front of Yoongi.
“Aren’t you the best?” Yoongi was an inch away from saying aren’t you lovely. Glad to know his brain-to-mouth filter is working just fine, now. “I mean it,”
Hoseok rolls his eyes and nudges Yoongi out of the way, making a complete beeline for the couch.
Watching Hoseok cosy himself up in the middle of Yoongi’s apartment stirs an entire ocean inside of Yoongi. There’s something almost - almost natural about how Hoseok fits in Yoongi’s small apartment. And if Yoongi were being even more honest, then he’d say that Hoseok almost looks like he’s at home. Here. In Yoongi’s unkempt apartment.
Paper and books strewn around, with at least twenty different pens scattered on tables and on the floor. It’s a university student's little pad, what else could anyone be expecting, really?
“I know,” Hoseok chirps, bright as ever for someone who’d passed out on top of the kitchen counter last night. “I woke up, felt like shit, and thought I could share the pain of the world ending with someone.”
“With me,” Yoongi supplies, raising an eyebrow at Hoseok.
“The lucky chosen one, hyung,” and it’s really just playful talk, Hoseok trying to help Yoongi out of his hangover, but still - Hoseok is here, and Yoongi’s barely awake. A part of Yoongi is still in disbelief - it is still highly possible for this all to be a dream. Like some terrible nightmare that Yoongi has to wake up from.
They sit with too much space between them on the couch, Yoongi cradling his cup of coffee for the warmth it brings. A mere consolation prize. Hoseok busies himself with the tv, but a wince from Yoongi after he accidentally flicks to MTv is enough of a reason for Hoseok to abandon that train of thought and just completely shut the entire thing off.
So they sit, together, on a rainy Saturday morning, the both of them nursing their terrible hangovers.
Hoseok passes him a bottle of water and a pill of Advil, and says, “You look like you need one,”
Yoongi takes it with a grimace, “I think I need at least ten of this, but,”
And it’s another trade between them - a trade of almost shy looks that Yoongi will not be overanalysing. A trade of smiles too bright for people who are supposed to be suffering from headaches too painful to even be measured. It’s a trade, the brushing of their hands when Hoseok takes the bottle of water back from Yoongi, and hands him back his coffee.
Yoongi even thinks that if he could trade coffee with Hoseok’s smile every morning for the next thousand mornings to come, he will.
He definitely would, no questions asked about it. No take backs.
It’s a slow and quiet Saturday morning, and funny as it is, Yoongi is spending it with Hoseok.
He doesn’t question it.
Besides, he might still be dreaming. He’ll drag this out for as long as he can.
—
“Where’d you two go?” Namjoon asks him, two days later.
“I told you,” Yoongi feels like he’s repeated the answer almost a hundred times already, but still. “We went out for a walk.”
Namjoon draws away from him and goes back to leaning into the soft cushions of the couch, brows furrowed. “Sure, okay,”
They’re both in Namjoon’s apartment, lazily blowing off the day by playing nonstop on the XBOX. Yoongi’s beaten Namjoon at least three times on all the games Namjoon had wanted to play, and with it only being four in the afternoon, Yoongi feels like he’s getting a bit bad when it comes to slacking off.
Seokjin arrives with Hoseok a few minutes later, dumping a box of pizza in front of them on the coffee table. Hoseok doesn’t toe off his shoes, or drop his bag. He’s not staying, Seokjin says.
Yoongi looks up from the game (Namjoon manages to beat his character dead into the ground), and catches Hoseok already looking at him.
“Hyung,” Hoseok says, voice a little bit shaky from just that one word.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi says at exactly the same time, hating how his voice sounds all of a sudden.
Namjoon slowly lowers the controller down, tearing his eyes away from the tv to look at Yoongi.
Seokjin must have given him a look over Yoongi’s head, because Namjoon just shrugs before he turns back to the game, this time deciding to play one player.
“Do you have time - “ Hoseok’s only starting to realise that there’s more than just the two of them in the room, and Yoongi already hates his friends, but hearing Namjoon snicker beside him, Yoongi finds that he can actually hate him even more.
And with energy and confidence even Yoongi’s unaware and completely surprised of, he says, completely beating Hoseok to the punch, “D’you wanna have - erm, dinner next time? Or a drink. I don’t know.” That was a good start but a lame finish, but whatever.
Whoever said asking someone out was like a walk in a field of daisies was wrong. Asking someone out is like taking a very hurried stroll in a field of roses. Thorns. Thorns pricking you from every direction. Every which way.
Hoseok blinks at him.
Yoongi feels his flush creeping up to his cheeks.
(Seokjin feels strangely out of place, and Namjoon. Well, Namjoon’s too focused on the game.)
But Hoseok smiles, sudden and bright, and every bit of self doubt Yoongi has is pushed aside and locked in a tiny, tiny room in the furthest corner of his mind.
“Sure, it’s a date, then.” Hoseok smiles, pulling his bag higher on his shoulder. With one final, sweeping glance around the small room, Hoseok heads back to the open door, a promise of calling Yoongi rolling off of his tongue like honey.
Seokjin doesn’t so much as comment about the little exchange between them. He just hides his laughter in the back of his hand, his quiet exclamation of, “Finally,” ringing all across the room.
And with the second controller practically useless, what with Namjoon dominating the entire game, Yoongi wrestles the first player controller out of Namjoon’s hands. It doesn’t take much (Yoongi actually just elbows Namjoon until he drops the controller).
Namjoon muttering about how it clearly isn’t fair for Yoongi to steal the game right from his hands is completely ignored. Yoongi’s got more important things to be thinking about (and not to mention Yoongi really has no tolerance when it comes to listening to Namjoon whine. That, and also listening to Namjoon go on and on about the many existential crisis that’s currently plaguing that little mind of his.).
Yoongi’s got a date to think of, and that’s that.
—
News about Yoongi and Hoseok going on an actual date doesn’t go unnoticed, because they’ve got five friends who just really doesn’t know the true meaning of privacy. Not even if Yoongi slammed a dictionary in their faces.
“Where are you guys going?” Jimin asks, definitely getting too close for comfort as he leans towards Yoongi. “Did you buy a ring, hyung?”
“Already?” Taehyung laughs, almost choking on his fries. “Do you want us to record the entire thing?”
Yoongi gives the both of them a glare, but no matter how hard he tries, no matter the endless threats he’s made, they still don’t know how to back down.
Which brings Yoongi back to the realisation that his friends might be too much, but they mean well. Again, it’s a mantra Yoongi has to keep on repeating. For his own sanity. (It’s probably the same mantra Seokjin repeats to himself, over and over again, just to keep himself sane, too. Probably. Yoongi's almost ninety-five percent sure.)
“I swear to god,” Yoongi sighs, giving up on his sad excuse of a sandwich. He pushes his plate away from him, Jeongguk immediately taking advantage of the situation by grabbing the discarded and barely eaten sandwich for himself.
They’re like starved lions, the three of them. Too young, too tall, and always too hungry. Yoongi hates them on their okay days, and sort of loves them on their best days. Sort of. Just to keep his sanity in check. That kind of purpose, really.
“Well, we - “ Here Jimin gestures to the three of them, busy eating lunch but not too busy to be antagonising Yoongi during his only free hour of the day. “Wish you luck, hyung.”
Taehyung nods, and beside him, through a mouthful of food, Jeongguk says, voice far too cheery Yoongi’s sort of confused whether his words are supposed to be encouraging or foreboding, “Don’t fuck it up, hyung.”
—
Their date doesn’t exactly go as planned.
It doesn’t go smoothly, either, because halfway into dinner, Hoseok accidentally elbows a waiter carrying a tray of coffee, and. Well. Let’s just say that it had been a mess both Yoongi and Hoseok hadn’t wanted to clean, so with a final glance at each other after the whole spectacle, they’d decided to leave. Right in the middle of dinner, with barely half of their food still uneaten.
This time, when Hoseok’s fingers find the circle of Yoongi’s wrist, Yoongi isn’t shocked. Or surprised. Just pleased.
Hoseok’s got a habit of dragging Yoongi around.
First, he’d dragged him into the middle of the street. Second, he’d dragged him out of oncoming traffic. Last, he’d dragged Yoongi out of the mess the both of them had created in the middle of the very dimly lit restaurant.
“That was nice,” Yoongi says, in a very poor attempt at humour.
Hoseok groans, “I ruined it,”
Yoongi thinks back to a few days ago - to Hoseok showing up at Namjoon’s apartment. To him finally able to ask Hoseok out to dinner, just out of the blue. To Hoseok nodding to the suggestion and calling it a date.
In the end, the said date hadn’t really gone as planned (and Yoongi doesn’t know a lot about actual dating, he really doesn’t, but he’s pretty sure ruining the restaurant’s floors and seeing the waiter trip on a pool of hot coffee doesn’t constitute as smooth.). It’s funny, though, which explains why Hoseok’s practically doubled up in laughter beside him, halting in his steps just to laugh.
Yoongi watches him laugh. Lets the sound of it wrap around him. The mid-November chill is never kind to anybody, but hearing Hoseok’s laugh, Yoongi finds that it’s really not such a cold day out, now.
“So much for a date,” Hoseok says, straightening back up.
“No,” and this part, Yoongi is completely serious. He reaches out to Hoseok, his hand managing to grip very loosely around Hoseok’s arm. “It was nice,” He says, and he hopes it doesn’t come out lame, or stupid, or even as an excuse, because it isn’t. Because this - from the food all up to the whole coffee incident - has been more than what Yoongi really could have asked for.
Yoongi looks at Hoseok and he thinks - all the goddamn time - that Hoseok is more than he could have asked for. Every goddamned time.
“You’re not mad?” Hoseok asks, eyes going a little bit wide.
Yoongi shakes his head and laughs, because a date with Hoseok had been sitting on top of his priority list ever since that one drunken night with Namjoon and Seokjin. Ever since his friends had found out.
(Actually, a date with Hoseok has been on the top of his list of priorities the very same day he’d met Hoseok, and that had been five years ago. Jesus fucking Christ.)
Yoongi doesn’t tell Hoseok that he isn’t mad, that everything had been a very amusing affair, hell, he doesn’t even just say no, flat out, because there are far better ways to communicate that, and Yoongi is only thankful to all the gods watching out for him that the urge to kiss Hoseok is so great, it doesn’t take him another five years to do.
It takes him exactly five seconds, really.
He pulls Hoseok towards him, fingers curling on Hoseok’s shoulder, the small gap between them bridged over by a kiss.
Hoseok is only taken aback by a second before he responds to it, his one hand finding Yoongi’s, and holding on to it. He kisses him back, soft and tender, and Yoongi thinks that there really is nothing else better than this.
That there’s nothing else he could ask for that will trump this.
When they pull apart, Hoseok is smiling. Bright. Beaming. Beautiful. He’s still holding onto Yoongi’s hand, their fingers twined, now.
It had taken Yoongi approximately five years to ask Hoseok out, but it had taken him no more than five seconds to kiss him.
Well, some things are easier done than others.
Hoseok leaning in for a second kiss is even better than the first, because it comes with the realisation that this - this is something Yoongi can do, now.
And there’s a fluttering in his heart. The knots in his stomach untangled. There is a gentle presence that wraps around Yoongi. A warmth that Hoseok emanates. There is fond all over Yoongi’s smile, and Hoseok - Well.
Well, Hoseok might just be looking at him the exact same way, in which case, Yoongi thinks it’s amazing.
(They end up crashing in Yoongi’s place, huddled close together on the couch as they watch a replay of the world’s sappiest movie, ever - and if anyone asks if they spent the afternoon watching Love, Actually, then they’ll both deny it all the way to their graves.)
—
The thing about dating your friend of five years is this - how easy it is to traverse on this road, together. How easy the label can switch to best friends, and then to boyfriends. Yoongi can swear, under oath, to that very simple fact.
Hoseok is warm mornings, his smile rivalling the lazy orange sunlight that streams into Yoongi’s room at ten in the morning, his black-out-curtains doing fuck all to prevent it.
When Hoseok kisses him, it’s with an answer. An answer to all the questions Yoongi’s held off on asking for the last five years. It’s always an answer, whenever Hoseok kisses him.
And now Yoongi knows that waking up to Hoseok lazily stirring in his sleep, arm still slung around Yoongi’s middle, is the most natural thing that they could ever do. It’s almost funny, really, how Yoongi had spent the past five years being too afraid to do just this - to run his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, feeling the soft strands brush against his skin.
Hoseok is also the best kind of Sunday mornings, when there’s no rush, just the both of them taking their time. Waking up to each other. Smiling. Laughing. He’s Sunday morning at it’s finest, with good music and burnt pancakes. There is a certain fondness that Sunday brings with it.
There’s no rush on Sundays. No rush at all.
—
Their friends don’t find out until an entire two weeks later, when they’re all at Seokjin’s place for a potluck dinner.
Yoongi, on the couch, obliterating Jeongguk in Mario Kart.
Hoseok, shrugging out of his coat and giving Jimin’s hair a good ruffling.
“Hey,” Yoongi says, gaze darting away from the tv quickly.
“Hi,” Hoseok smiles, and Yoongi can almost hear it - a pin dropping in the middle of the room, with all their friends holding their breaths as Hoseok stops right behind Yoongi and settles a light hand on his shoulder.
Hoseok leans down to kiss Yoongi on the edge of his mouth, and -
And it’s a complete fucking riot.
Jeongguk would have thrown the controller away had Seokjin not shot that idea down the very second it had formed. But, still, Jeongguk almost jumps when he’s pushed out of the couch by Yoongi, who shifts over just to give Hoseok room.
“You’re both sickening,” Namjoon says, gesturing to how Hoseok’s practically sitting on Yoongi. To how Yoongi’s got an arm curled around Hoseok’s middle. To how they’re both practically smiling into each other.
“The absolute worst,” Yoongi seconds, nodding at Hoseok, his smile barely contained.
“Terrible,” Hoseok says, bumping their noses playfully. Kissing Yoongi with a smile so wide, their teeth end up clashing.
They laugh instead of kiss, and that’s good, too, because Yoongi can hear Hoseok laugh for a very long time. That laugh, thinks Yoongi, is enough to get him drunk.
“We were planning a blind date,” Taehyung says, absolutely dejected, now. “Jimin and I had the blindfolds ready. We were even ready just in case you two would get violent,”
Cuffs, someone from the other side of the room murmurs.
“You were going to kidnap them?” Seokjin’s voice is loud and very much offended when he rounds on both Taehyung and Jimin, who look up at him with the most angelic pair of smiles Yoongi’s ever seen on their faces.
“Well, we just thought - if they refused to cooperate, then we’d bind them,” Jimin laughs, high and nervous.
“They mentioned gags, too,” Jeongguk says, truly helpful from his spot on the floor.
Seokjin groans, “You would’ve given them both a heart attack,”
Taehyung’s quiet, “Or they would have liked it,” is a comment both Yoongi and Hoseok find themselves blushing at, because of course. Of course you can trust this stupid congregation of idiots to say the most embarrassing - and plan the most intrusive - things. Heists, for the second thing.
But Yoongi, somehow, manages to drown them all out. He focuses on Hoseok, at how they’re so fucking close, yet again. How this - all of this, really - is still a thing of wonder.
Yoongi will probably never tire of watching Hoseok smile, either.
“You wanna go?” Yoongi suggests, gently pushing Hoseok off of him.
Hoseok twining their fingers together and squeezing on Yoongi’s hand is all the answer Yoongi will ever need.
With barely a goodbye to their clearly mismanaged friends (who’ve got good hearts but maybe dubious intentions), they both stumble out of the room, tripping over themselves and laughing.
And -
And this is all too much, but not enough, all at once.
Hoseok’s got that effect on him.
Yoongi had always known Hoseok had something special inside of him. It’s only now that Yoongi realises that maybe he’s just too goddamn fond for this boy. So much that it had turned him into an idiot, barely able to say anything to him whenever the right opportunity arose.
But now.
Now, gone are the days Yoongi would have stuttered out his greeting. Gone are the days Hoseok would have flushed at the sight of Yoongi just smiling at him. Gone are the days of Yoongi weighing in the pros and cons of actually asking Hoseok out, because he knows.
He knows that it can’t get any better than this.
Hoseok pulls him close against him, their foreheads bumping.
Yoongi grimaces, but Hoseok quickly wipes it away with a kiss, his thumb swiping gently over Yoongi’s cheeks.
If there was ever any sort of truth that the universe recognised, then it’s this -
Between the both of them, a blossoming of a tender bud. A fondness that can only lead to one thing.
It’s a universal truth, Yoongi and Hoseok being together. Universal in the same way that the entire world seems to spin whenever Hoseok holds his hand.
Yoongi laughs, again, but this time, it’s not so much in amusement as it is in clear disbelief. Because somehow, someway - and despite the terrible efforts of their well meaning friends - they’re both still here. Both still together.
Hoseok’s laugh is smothered with another kiss, and god. Yoongi will never tire of that. Not Hoseok’s laughter, or his warmth, or even just kissing him. There are very few things Yoongi will not tire of, and Hoseok is on top of that list.
Oceanic, Yoongi wants to say, when they finally pull apart. When Hoseok is laughing, breathless, and with at least a thousand different stars dancing behind his eyes.
Hoseok’s laughter washes over him like the cool waves of the sea, and at this point, all Yoongi can really do is raise a hand up to brush very softly against Hoseok’s cheek. His fingers tracing over the laugh lines in Hoseok’s face, his touch soft, and the smile on his face even softer the entire time he does it.
Complete and utter fond clear is on his face - as clear as the last traces of winter is blown away by the warm Spring breeze that brings with it the blossoming of flowers, and the rebirth of the trees.
Because the thing is - and Yoongi might have not taken the shortcut, getting to this exact same spot, but - there’s really no two ways about it: it’s a universal truth, the both of them.
“You know what we are?” Yoongi asks, arm going around Hoseok’s waist, pulling him closer.
“Dating?” Hoseok says, playful. But his eyes are soft, tender, the answer clear on his face, too - because Hoseok is all the answers to all of the questions Yoongi’s never asked. To all the questions Yoongi will ever have.
“We’re oceanic.” If anyone were to hear that, then Yoongi would have no choice but to push them out of the tenth story window, but as it is, it’s just the two of them. Silence except for their slow and measured breathing.
“You and I.” Hoseok laughs, yet again, and it’s such a fascinating thing, how beautiful someone can look when they laugh. How Hoseok is truly a thing of wonder, far too big for this world.
Limitless. Immense.
Oceanic.