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The sky gave a low rumble, and Hoseok looked up at the dense, gray clouds with uncertainty. He always told himself he would read the weather report the day before, but he never cared enough to do it. It came back to bite him in the ass on days like this. When it looked like there would be a hundred percent chance of rain, a fifty percent chance of him making it home in time to beat it, and a zero percent chance of him pulling an umbrella out of thin air to save himself.
The bus was later than usual. Most likely because the scheduled one had broken down en route and a replacement was being sent. Hoseok looked over at the old man waiting beside him. He looked so serene, like the thirty minutes of waiting they’d both done didn’t faze him. And neither did the very real threat of rain, even though it looked like he also didn’t have an umbrella.
The small talk had dried up not even five minutes into sitting beside each other. The old man asked him polite questions, Hoseok replied back even more politely, and they nodded politely at each other. The old man had then glanced silently down at his watch to signal the end of the conversation. And proceeded to ignore Hoseok until the sun set around them.
Hoseok had been glad for it. He’d just gotten out of a double shift at work and the only things he wanted to do were shower and pass out for sixty eight years. At this point, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to even make himself food when he got home. He had originally wanted to stop by the restaurant near his apartment complex and get some takeout, but he hadn’t factored a delayed bus into his plans. It would only be open for half an hour more, and by the time Hoseok got there now, it would certainly be closed.
He’d make ramen if he had the energy. If not, he was just going to mash his face into his pillow and blink out of existence for an indefinite amount of time. He didn’t have work tomorrow, and he’d planned it so that he would get the weekend off on top of it. The only thing keeping him from sweet salvation now was this bitch bus.
At that thought, he felt the first few droplets of rain fall past his eyelashes. The air got heavier as the rain started to pour, and Hoseok put his hood up, debating with himself. One more minute. If the bus didn’t arrive in one more minute, he would just wait out the worst of the rain in some nearby building and walk the rest of the way. He would keep along the route so that the bus could pick him up whenever if fucking arrived, and if it didn't, it would just have to be a miserable walk home to end this miserable day.
The rain shower started to pick up. Just as Hoseok's countdown got to about fifteen seconds, the bus arrived. He and the old man stood up, Hoseok hanging back and waiting for the old man to collect his things and get on first. Understandably, it took him a little while to ascend the stairs and swipe his card, and Hoseok's hoodie soaked through as he waited.
The bus was empty when Hoseok finally made it on. He walked as quickly and as carefully as he could before the bus could start moving again. He only had a second to grab onto the nearest solid surface or end up falling. His shoes were wet and he could feel their uneasy grip beneath him, so once he was holding onto the railing, he moved slowly and cautiously.
The old man had taken his seat on the first row designated for the pregnant and the elderly. The bus was empty save for three people, so it wouldn’t have mattered if he sat in the first row too. He made his way to the back anyway, out of habit.
As soon as he got to the next row of chairs, he let his body fall into the first seat. He then shifted his hips in the chair and lay down on his side, crossing his arms and making a pillow to rest on. His head was starting to throb with a headache from either hunger or exhaustion. Probably both. When he focused his eyes, he saw a person slumped over in the same position across from him. Hoseok hadn’t seen him at all when he’d walked on, and he'd been too focused on getting himself situated to notice him when he moved into the aisle.
The crumpled form in front of him was clad in ripped jeans, a pair of black and white sneakers that looked comfortable, and a massive black hoodie. The hood was up and Hoseok couldn’t really make out a face. All he saw was a small pink mouth and two eyes staring listlessly ahead. Directly at Hoseok.
At any other point in the day, Hoseok would have created a distraction to avoid an uncomfortable situation by either talking or with a smile. An apology, even. But right at this moment, he was too tired to give a shit. And besides, none of his usual alarm bells were going off. The guy wasn’t looking at Hoseok, his eyes just happened to be open and Hoseok just happened to be in front of them. If Hoseok had to guess, he’d say the guy was too tired really give a shit about him, too.
It was refreshing, actually. To have nothing expected of him and to expect nothing back. Hoseok spent so much of his energy absorbing people: their thoughts, their feelings, their intentions, actions, considerations, demeanor. And then there was how much of his interactions with others he was always aware of; how every little thing he did affected every single person he came into contact with at any given moment.
He spent just as much time expelling energy outwards. The ideal thing would be for him to remain in homeostasis. The reality was that he often tipped toward one side more than the other. He either took too many people in, or he let too much of himself out.
Then there was everything else. Every sound, every drop of light, every color, every minute change in temperature, every smell, that was always bombarding him all the time. It was a lot for him to handle. It often left him exhausted at the end of the day. But as much as the exhaustion sucked, sometimes he was just glad to be so tired that he couldn’t think.
Hoseok blinked, half dead as he stared at the guy. The guy looked back at him just as wearily. Their heads bounced with the stilted movement of the bus below them. They were mirror images of each other, both slumped over on their sides, arms pillowed for their heads and their eyes staring ahead. At any other time of the day, Hoseok would’ve smiled at this discovery. As things stood, however, all he managed was another blink.
The guy blinked back. Blinked back at Hoseok. Every other blink before then had been heavy-lidded and slow. Out of focus. But right then, that blink was sharper, faster. He was looking at him.
Hoseok smiled at him. He wasn't forcing himself to smile, he just couldn't help it. The guy abruptly shifted his gaze away and looked up, past Hoseok's body, past the tops of the seats he was laying on, and out the window. Hoseok's cheeks ached a little as he smiled harder. The stranger was shy. He decided to stop staring and looked out the window too.
The rain was coming down hard now, and as it poured, it made the city lights dance against the glass. The water hid what was on the other side of the windows from view, but the dual transparency of the glass and the droplets made Hoseok feel like he could see what was on the other side anyway. The drum against the roof of the bus was steady and the rumble of the bus was consistent. It was calming.
Hoseok's eyes drifted back down and ahead. The guy was now staring at the space under Hoseok’s seats. Hoseok adjusted himself to get comfortable and looked the guy over again. He couldn't tell if his body was really that small or if the hoodie was really that big. He looked like a small fish drowning in the sea. And he saw a couple of strands of hair that he'd missed the first time that said his hair was actually bleached blond. He was wondering if it was all his of hair that was bleached or if it was just the bangs when the guy's gaze flitted back to Hoseok's.
This time, he held it. No other part of the guy’s body moved, and nothing that Hoseok could see of his face gave away a reaction. But Hoseok could tell he was a little curious now, too. And as they stared at each other, two tired piles of human meat and bones, Hoseok found that he really liked this stranger’s eyes. There was something knowledgeable in them, wise. He liked the shape of his mouth, too. It reminded him of a cat.
Hoseok was wondering what the bleached strands of his hair would feel like between his fingers, soft or damaged, when all of a sudden, a vicious whip of thunder cracked the skies overhead. Hoseok’s body jolted immediately half upright, and he caught himself midair with a hard hand to the seat below his hip. He pressed his other hand to his pounding chest, panting for breath, when another series of cracks broke across the sky―so loud that Hoseok could feel the echo in his body.
All he could think about was how afraid he was. All he could feel was fear. Thunder always affected him badly, even more so when it was this brutal. The shaking had already started in his body, but every unexpected strike of thunder shot fresh fear through his bloodstream and made him flinch hard. The worst parts were the moments of quiet in between, waiting for the next loud, harsh sound, not knowing when it would occur, and having no way to brace himself against it.
He looked out the window and blinked away the tears blurring his vision to see what street they were on. Tried to focus enough to calculate how far he was from home. He had antianxiety meds that he'd been prescribed for his worst anxiety episodes. All he needed to do was get through this bus ride in one piece.
He was only a minute away from his stop. He got up and made his way to the front of the bus on shaking legs he couldn’t feel. Held onto the railing as his stop approached, feeling the stickiness of the handle imprint onto his hand. He jumped at another hard strike of thunder, his knees banging into the seats beside him with the flinch, and held tighter onto the railing so that he didn't slip and fall.
The bus stopped. He didn’t have an umbrella. Hoseok got off and started jogging, avoiding trees or poles in case of lightning strikes. It was an uphill slope of two blocks before he got to his apartment complex. He was running on pure adrenaline, his body pushed past the limits of exhaustion, his mind willing him to outrun the thunder, and he was at his front door before he knew it. His fingers shook as tried to open the door and he was wet from head to toe. When he finally got the door open, he made his way inside, tracking dirt past the front door. The rush of relief to be so close to safety brought more tears to his eyes.
He started immediately taking off his shoes and all his clothes, letting the wet weights drop to the floor with a sopping thud, and shivered his way to his room for towels. He didn’t want to get into clean dry clothes before he showered, so after he wrapped himself up, he made his way to the bathroom for his pills and went back to the kitchen for a glass of water to swallow them down. He cleaned up his clothes and dried the floor as he waited for the pills to kick in. Each time the thunder sounded outside, it made him feel more and more like the world was physically falling to pieces around him.
He was cold in the towels, and slowly, as he pushed the mop back and forth, his nerves calmed. His blood pressure slowed down with his heart rate. His muscles started to get heavier, and when thunder struck above, he didn't flinch.
He was a little out of it, unsure of how he even ended up in the shower. But he had to get clean. He didn’t plan on waking up for another hundred years, and the thought of going even one day without a shower unbalanced him. He had to turn the heat down while he showered because the warmth was making him sleepy and he didn't want to fall asleep standing up in the middle of a shower.
He took comfort in the probability that the moment his head hit the pillow, he was going to pass out entirely.
―
Yoongi turned the stove off for the ramen and transferred the contents to a bowl. He looked at the remainders in the pot and found himself hesitating for the millionth time that hour.
The stranger from the bus had looked incredibly upset when this thunder started. Yoongi had wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he seemed unnerved enough without Yoongi bringing unnecessary attention to him. Especially since he wouldn't have been able to help him anyway.
Then just before Yoongi’s stop, the guy had pulled the strap and absolutely flown off the bus. Yoongi got off after him, having to also sprint because he didn’t have an umbrella with him. The two of them ran in the same direction, the guy not looking back once, and to Yoongi’s surprise, the guy opened the door to the entrance of Yoongi's apartment complex and ducked inside.
By the time Yoongi got to the front entrance, he saw him struggling with the keys to the door of the apartment directly below his on the second floor. Yoongi found himself standing there, waiting to see if he would make it inside, when the guy finally turned the lock and made it inside. Yoongi had then climbed the stairs slowly, a little stunned at the spectacular turn of events. He was thinking that if they ran into each other again, the first thing Yoongi would have to do was explain that he wasn't a stalker―but then the wet cold of his clothes registered and he climbed faster so he could take them off sooner and get into the shower.
Now Yoongi was standing above the ramen he’d made, too much for one person to eat, and contemplated whether or not to go downstairs and use it as an excuse to give the guy his soundproof headphones. He had so many reasons not to. Number one, it was midnight and he had probably gone to sleep already. Number two, Yoongi didn’t actually have the energy to talk to another human being right now. Three, he really would be a stalker if he, the stranger from the bus, showed up an hour later at the guy’s doorstep out of the blue with “ramen” and “soundproof headphones” along with a convenient story about how it turned out that they happened to live in the same building right on top of each other. Yoongi wouldn’t trust himself if he was in the guy's shoes.
But then he remembered his face. Exhausted beyond belief at first. Then the thunder started and he’d looked terrified. Started shaking all over. And every single time it struck, he had flinched hard.
Every time Yoongi had heard the thunder since, he was all he could think about.
Yoongi sighed and ran a hand through his hair, decision made. He got a second bowl and filled it with the rest of the ramen. Went to his bedroom and rummaged through his things until he found the headphones. Then he put his slippers on, walked out the door, and started descending the stairs to the guy's apartment.
Really, what were the chances that the guy from he bus had lived right below him this whole time. (Yoongi felt heat flood his cheeks when he remembered how shamelessly he'd stared at him, but he pushed the memory to the back of his mind.) How come they had never run into each other before now? No wait, Yoongi knew why. He never ran into anyone in this building because he was never awake during the day.
He knocked on the door and waited. God, what the fuck. He should have just stayed out of this. He was probably asleep and now here Yoongi was, waking him up to deal with the thunder all over again―
The door opened and a confused face emerged from the other side. When those eyes from the bus met his own, recognition dawned in them. Yoongi scrambled to explain before the look turned to fear.
“Hi, I’m the guy from the bus earlier. My name’s Yoongi and I swear I’m not stalking you. I live in the apartment above you, as it turns out.” He was watching the guy’s face for any signs of his earlier, or a worsened, distress. A scared response to him. But he looked calmer than when Yoongi had last seen him. Still exhausted, but he’d taken a shower, from the dampness of his hair, and he wasn’t shaking. “Um, so. Here’s some soundproof headphones? If you need them.” He pushed them towards him, the guy removing his hand from the door handle to take them reflexively. He looked surprised and Yoongi started talking faster to get this over with. “And I made too much ramen. Didn’t wanna waste the extras.”
He pushed the bowl towards him too, and the guy stooped his whole body just to take the bowl into both his hands. "Um―uh..." He just kept blinking and opening and closing his mouth, probably to speak, but all that came out were various noises. The surprise on his face deepened with each passing second and Yoongi looked away from it.
“You can keep the headphones, I have others. Okay, bye.”
He spun on his heel and power-walked toward the staircase.
“Wait!” The guy’s voice echoed down the hallway and Yoongi was startled by how loud it was. He turned around to face him but kept walking backwards. He still had a bit of hallway left before he hit anything. “Thank you,” he said. His eyes were too wide, too honest. His words were filled with too much gratitude. Yoongi hadn’t even done anything.
“No problem,” Yoongi said. He turned around just in time to place his foot on the first step. It would’ve been embarrassing to fall on his face right then. In the middle of spinning away and trying to act cool.
He spent the rest of the night ignoring the warmth that he felt in his chest.
―
Hoseok stood in the doorway until the guy from the bus disappeared up the stairs. He wasn’t sure he could really move right now. The warmth from the bowl in his hands seeped into his skin, and the cords of the headphones hung loosely from his fingers.
He was so touched. He’d been slightly afraid when he first heard the knocks because he never got unexpected visitors, and it was past midnight on a weekday. But when he looked through the peephole, all he saw was bleached blond hair and a blank stare. He’d recognized him immediately, but he didn’t understand what the fuck he was doing here, how he found him, why he was wearing different clothes, or what it was that he was carrying in his hands.
When he opened the door, he noted that he had damp hair but dry clothes. Hoseok sussed that he lived in the building too if he’d had time to change and put on house slippers. But the real recognition came when he looked into his eyes and saw the same ones from earlier that evening staring back.
And then he’d started immediately explaining himself so Hoseok didn't get scared. And then he had given him his headphones. Soundproof, because of the thunder. He'd noticed the mess that Hoseok had been on the bus and he came all the way to his doorstep to try to help him. Took the time to bring him food. Hoseok hadn’t been planning to eat, too tired to even fathom making himself something.
It was one of the most pleasant surprises Hoseok had ever had in his life. One of the most kind. He was so touched.
So the stranger's name was Yoongi. Hoseok walked back inside and closed the door. Stared down at the bowl in his hands. Yoongi was a kind person.
The ramen was good. He had to fight through the effect of the meds to finish eating it, and the taste of the food was the only thing his tired mind could process. He had never put lemon in ramen before. It was genius. He put the bowl in the sink when he was done, opening water over it at first, then deciding to just rinse it off and put it on the rack. He went to his bedroom with the headphones in hand and put them on his night stand.
It was going to be storming all week, and they would be more helpful than the pills. He hated taking them unless he absolutely needed to because they made him dizzy and groggy and he was scared about getting addicted to them. Yoongi didn’t understand just how much this meant to him.
Hoseok felt a rush of warmth when he thought about him. Remembered his giant black hoodie and bleached hair. His dark circles and large hands. He'd held the bowl with only one hand. And his deep voice was soft.
It was with Yoongi on his mind that Hoseok started gingerly laying down on his bed. His aching body throbbed with relief, and when his head finally hit the pillow, he passed out in under thirty seconds.
He woke up some indiscriminate amount of time later to the sound rain outside his window. His body felt like one giant bruise as he shifted over to his side. He blinked to get the blurriness out of his eyes and reached for his phone to check on how long he’d slept for. Twelve hours. It was almost two in the afternoon.
He lay back, stretching his body as he let out a groan. Sleep cleared from his mind and gave way to memories from the night before. Yoongi. He glanced at the headphones on his nightstand, feeling a blush start in his cheeks and spread through his body.
How long had Yoongi and his noodles been living above his apartment, he wondered. Hoseok had never heard any noises that suggested there was anyone living there at all. Not even footsteps. He tilted his head up and listened for sounds of life from the ceiling, but as usual, there was nothing. Was Yoongi a really quiet person or was he just never home?
Hoseok sat up in bed and stretched his arms out to the side and above his head, cracking his back in the process. When he planted his feet on the ground, he braced himself for them to ache against the carpet as blood down towards them. He minced his way to the softest slippers he had, almost tearing up when his swollen, sensitive feet were enveloped in soft and forgiving sheepskin. He went to the kitchen to make himself coffee and his jaw cracked as he yawned.
When he spotted Yoongi’s bowl in the dish rack, he thought about taking some up to him. He must've slept just as late as Hoseok had, so he would be waking up soon if he wasn't already up.
He went to go pick up the damp clothes from last night to add them to the dirty ones in the hamper. Then he picked it up and made his way to the washer downstairs. Every single day of his life, Hoseok appreciated the fact that he didn’t have to go to a laundromat to do his laundry. He rotated a lot of the same clothes throughout the week, and having to take the bus back and forth anymore than he already did sounded like what nightmares were made of. Especially on days like yesterday.
By the time he was done loading the washing machine, the coffee would be done. When he took Yoongi's cup up to him, he had to remember to also return his bowl. He stopped on his way to the door. What if Yoongi was down there washing his own clothes right now? Hoseok hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet. He put the hamper down by the door and went to wash up and comb his hair. Changing out of his shorts and old tshirt sounded like more work than his body could handle just then, so he left them on and went to go pick up the hamper.
When he made it downstairs, however, there was no one there. He remembered that it was still Friday. Yoongi had probably had to go to work today. Hoseok felt a pang of sympathy when he remembered how tired Yoongi's eyes had looked last night. It was bad enough going to work, but having to do it on such little sleep...especially considering how exhausted he’d looked to begin with. Hoseok hoped that Yoongi wasn't working.
He made his way upstairs when he was done and each stair pressed unyielding against the tender stumps he called feet. He poured Yoongi a cup of coffee, leaving it black in case that was how he liked to drink it, and picked up his bowl. He brought it closer when he noticed the designs on them. Tiny chefs either using, sitting on top of, or laying down on giant utensils. Hoseok smiled at the one wrestling with the massive spoon, it's chef's hat askew. How cute.
He made his way back to the staircase, remembering how Yoongi had practically sprinted towards them last night, and started climbing slowly. At least this time, he had a mug of hot liquid in his hand and could use it as an excuse for why he was walking like he was seventy-five years old. When he made it to Yoongi's door, he knocked twice. Waited a while before knocking again. No answer. He listened for sounds of movement from inside, but when he heard nothing, he figured that Yoongi wasn't home after all. He went back to the staircase to make his way back to his own apartment, forgetting himself and sipping on the coffee only to pull a face when he was met with bitterness.
For the rest of the day, Hoseok kept subconsciously listening for signs that Yoongi had returned, and all day, there were none. Even long after office hours and happy hour and eleven o'clock at night, there was nothing. He was starting to think that Yoongi was just one of those people that were so busy that they were never home when finally―at almost one in the morning when Hoseok was curled up in bed, watching his favorite variety show and on the verge of falling asleep―he heard footsteps from above his ceiling.
He wouldn't have caught them if his apartment wasn't as quiet as it was, the volume on his phone turned down as low as it was, and he hadn't subconsciously still been listening for them. They were soft, unobtrusive. A little unsteady. Hoseok wondered if Yoongi’s footsteps were always that gentle or if he was being careful because he was trying not to wake Hoseok up. Tenderness bloomed in his chest at both possibilities.
Hoseok tried to rewind to the correct place on the video he was watching. He'd gotten distracted by his thoughts. But when his fingers tapped play, his mind wondered again. He couldn't repay Yoongi with coffee, but maybe he could repay him a different way. He glanced at the time. Just a little past one. He knew of only one pizza place that closed at two in the morning. He had to act fast.
He exited the video app and dialed the number. Ordered a medium cheese pizza. He didn't know what kind of toppings Yoongi might like, so he settled for the safest option. He addressed it to Yoongi's apartment, and after he was done paying, he gave them a message to give to Yoongi.
"Hoseok said thanks for the ramen?" the employee read back to him. He gave them a verbal confirmation as he nodded to himself. He thanked them when the order was complete and went back to watching his show.
He could have ordered it to his own apartment and taken it up to Yoongi but that would be embarrassing. He just wanted to thank him for his kindness. He'd still return his bowl to him, but for now this was enough. Hoseok didn't want to push anything.
He curled his body around the fluttering in his stomach and rewound the video. A few dozen minutes later, he heard a knock loud enough on Yoongi's door that it reached him. The butterflies in his stomach multiplied and he bit his lip as he listened for faint footsteps approaching the door. Yoongi stayed by the door for so long that Hoseok started to get nervous that he'd done something wrong. Maybe Yoongi was lactose intolerant. Maybe a cheese pizza fell onto his pet hamster when he was a child and killed it. Maybe medium was too big.
The scenarios got wilder and wilder until he heard the distant sound of Yoongi's door closing. Maybe he'd told the delivery person to return it. Hoseok didn't think they could do that, so maybe they'd get to keep the free pizza for themselves. Either way, someone was getting fed tonight.
Hoseok heard a few more footsteps, but he couldn't figure out where Yoongi was in his apartment. Then they disappeared completely, like maybe he'd sat or lay down. After a while of quiet, Hoseok went back to finishing his show, and eventually, he fell asleep.
The next day, or technically several hours later, Hoseok woke up at eight o'clock in the morning. His feet didn't hurt so much when he got out of bed, and he showered and got ready to go out for the day. Weekends were the days he got to hang out with Seokjin, and he couldn't wait to tell him about what had transpired over the past couple of days. He was tucking his shirt half into his pants when he heard a knock at his door.
He made his way toward it a little distractedly, deciding if he wanted his shirt tucked fully in or out, when he opened it to find Yoongi on the other side. He forgot what he'd been doing as he looked at him, taking in the shape of his eyes and the cup of coffee in his hands. He was wearing the giant hoodie again, but he didn't look as tired today. "Hi."
"Hi. Um, I was hoping you'd be awake, but I wasn't really sure..." He cleared his throat and Hoseok shifted on his feet. Hoseok's shirt was only half tucked in. "Thank you for the pizza. Last night." He pushed the mug of coffee toward him. Hoseok took it and managed not to spill it all over them both. "You look good." Yoongi flushed when Hoseok's head came up to look at him. "I mean, better. You look better. Than the night on the―Anyways, thanks, Hoseok."
Hoseok felt a rush of warmth at that. He liked the way Yoongi said his name. "I still have your bowl―" he took several steps back into his apartment to motion toward the kitchen.
"Nah, it's okay. Return it some other time. You're going out right now." He motioned toward Hoseok's outfit and Hoseok instinctively followed his hand to look down at himself.
"O-oh, yeah." He'd almost forgotten.
Yoongi nodded. "Have fun. See you around." He turned to leave.
Hoseok almost shouted a thanks for the coffee after him, but as soon as the words hit his throat, they felt redundant. The mug was warm in his hands and it had a mustache on it. He hadn't had any coffee yet because he was going to have breakfast with Seokjin. He closed the door and took the mug to the kitchen. Added milk and sugar and drank the coffee as he finished getting ready.
By the time he was finished getting ready, he'd finished over half the coffee. He was a little jittery from the caffeine, so he put on some music and danced to expel some energy as he gathered his wallet and keys. It was as he rinsed Yoongi's mustache mug off and placed it beside the bowl of chefs that he came to his decision. He dried the mug, picked up the bowl and left his apartment.
When he got to Yoongi's door, he knocked three times and waited. Yoongi opened it, the gust of wind from the door lifting a wisp of his bangs astray, and his face changed as if he hadn't been expecting the person at the door to be Hoseok.
Hoseok pushed the mug and bowl toward him. "Hi, Yoongi. Again." Yoongi gathered the dishes into his hands, mouth opening and closing in confusion as he blinked. "My friend and I are meeting up for breakfast and I would be happy if you came." He would text Seokjin about the change of plans after Yoongi either said yes or no. "He's driving, so neither of us will have to take the bus." Yoongi opened his mouth and Hoseok quickly held his hand up. "Wait. This isn't a date but if it's okay with you, I'd like it if we did. Date, I mean. But if it's not―okay with you, I mean―that's okay, too. I'd still love to be your friend. If that's okay with you...too."
Maybe Hoseok shouldn't have been doing this all hopped up on caffeine. He probably should have waited. He was talking too much and too fast and probably overwhelming Yoongi. Even though all Yoongi had done was wait patiently for Hoseok to finish talking.
Yoongi's bottom lip kinda jutted out a little as he blinked up at him. As Hoseok watched his eyelashes flutter together, he realized that he was taller than him. He wasn't taller than any of his friends or a lot of his coworkers. It was a refreshing feeling, and he found himself standing a little taller despite the situation he was in. "Uh...I would love to go out with you. Both to breakfast and on a date."
Hoseok's heart rate picked up and he released a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Really?! That is so great." He was practically shouting, but he didn't care. He was barely keeping himself from taking Yoongi by the shoulders and shaking him to celebrate. "So great!! Also, I love your dishes. You gotta show me where you get them." He took his phone out of his pocket and started moving. "Okay, okay, I'm gonna text Seokjin. Meet me downstairs when you're ready?"
Yoongi nodded. It was a little shy and that was so unexpected that it pulled a delighted laugh out of Hoseok. He let Yoongi duck back into his apartment to get ready and headed for the staircase.
He skipped a little on his way downstairs. He couldn't help it, he was just so excited.