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It’s a Sunday and Yoongi wakes up to feather-light fingers tracing up and down his stomach, Hoseok curled up beside him, occasionally pressing soft kisses to the edge of Yoongi’s mouth, and letting his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Butterfly kisses, Hoseok had told him once. Butterfly kisses, Yoongi wakes up to now, eyes blinking away at the sleep, and his mouth already curving up into a smile as he turns over to his side to look at Hoseok, startling him for only a second.
Hoseok smiles at him, soft and warm, his hand coming up to cup at the edge of Yoongi’s jaw, thumb swiping fondly on Yoongi’s bottom lip. Hoseok nuzzles closer to him, still so languid from sleep, and bumps their noses together, his smile widening. “Good morning,” he says, pressing a soft, chaste little kiss on just the top of Yoongi’s lip.
Yoongi curls his fingers around Hoseok’s hip, letting his blunt nails dig gently into the exposed skin he’s got access to, and sighs, because it’s Sunday and they’re taking it as slow as they can. “G’morning,” Yoongi says, voice still gruff and so, so heavy with sleep, he figures that he might as well just roll back over and have a couple more hours of them.
But he doesn’t, because it’s hard to sleep when you’ve got a boyfriend who keeps peppering kisses down the side of your cheek. Hoseok eventually lets up, pulls away from Yoongi, and pushes off of the bed. He still looks like he could use a few more hours of sleep, but Yoongi doesn’t stop him when Hoseok declares that it’s time for coffee and cereal.
“Don’t stay in too long or else it’s gonna get soggy,” and Yoongi knows that Hoseok does this on purpose all the goddamn time - knows that if he doesn’t pour the milk before Yoongi, then Yoongi would spend the entire day just in bed, waiting until Hoseok gets bored outside of the bedroom, waiting until Hoseok crawls back into bed with him, and hooks their ankles together, and kisses him slow and deep, pressing him into the cushions, and the pillows, and the blankets.
He hears the sound of the tv, some cartoon Hoseok’s decided on. He smells coffee, too, and eventually, Yoongi manages to roll himself off of the bed, feet smacking against the wooden tiles as he steadies himself. There is a call for his name, Hoseok asking if he’s successfully managed to get out the bed only to sleep on the floor, and Yoongi snorts, because some days, Hoseok really does know him better than himself.
“If it’s soggy, then I’m letting you eat it,” Yoongi grumbles, dragging himself out of the room and into the kitchen. Hoseok leans against the counters, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands, and his smile as bright as the nine-in-the-morning sun that filters through their sheen living room curtains.
Yoongi hauls himself up onto the counter, smacking away at Hoseok’s hand when Hoseok tries to help, and reaches his hand out for the coffee waiting for him when he’s finally all settled.
“That’s my sweater,” he can hear the whine in Hoseok’s voice, can see the twitching of his nose. Yoongi just takes a sip of his coffee and pretends that he isn’t swimming under the too-loose sweater. They’re well in their way into autumn and Yoongi’s always had a penchant for stealing Hoseok’s sweaters. They just tend to feel warmer, is all. “well, doesn’t matter now, I think. I like the way you smell, anyway.”
“You’re such a creep,” Yoongi says, opting for a little scowl that he knows won’t work on Hoseok, especially not when Yoongi gives up halfway to smile at him. It’s easy banter on a slow Sunday morning, and as Yoongi looks over his cup of coffee at Hoseok, he feels his pride swell, and his heart skip a beat.
“Love you, too, muffin,” Hoseok teases, stepping in between Yoongi’s legs, his coffee and half-eaten cereal forgotten on the kitchen table behind him. He fits his hands on either side of Yoongi’s hips just as Yoongi reaches up to cup his hands on Hoseok’s cheeks, thumb swiping absentmindedly on his skin. Yoongi tilts Hoseok's head up and bends down to meet him for a kiss, sighing halfway into it when Hoseok hums playfully against Yoongi, his lips curving into a smile, and the kiss broken after only seconds because Hoseok can’t help but smile too bright, and too big.
Yoongi doesn’t mind, not when Hoseok’s looking at him, his eyes twinkling. He swipes his thumb over Hoseok’s cheek and says, “I love you, too, now if you could pass me the cereal, please.”
—
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“How long have you been together again?” asks Namjoon as he tries to balance a tray of their drinks and one too many muffins that Yoongi knows isn’t for him. “I mean, not to make that question weird or anything.”
“A while,” Yoongi says, plucking the first muffin he gets his hands on before Namjoon can even so much as tell him that they aren’t for him. He sits back on his chair just as Namjoon throws him a scowl. “You have like, five muffins. Learn to share,”
“Yeah, okay, next question, and I want an actual answer,” Namjoon leans back on his chair, legs crossed under the table, and Yoongi can see it now before it even starts to happen - the dimple that digs into his cheek, and the all too knowing grin that spreads on his face. “tell me why I found you a block away from a jewellery shop.”
Yoongi shrugs, “I was around the area,”
“Yeah, sure, it’s only everyday you frequent the same place you buy all of your mother’s presents at, yeah?” Namjoon knows exactly where he’s going with this line of thinking and it’s too late already in the day for Yoongi to even have the energy to refute his claims, so instead of saying anything, he just shrugs at Namjoon, who laughs low and all too amused in turn. “Seven years, hyung,”
“You kept count?” is what Yoongi asks, a little bit surprised.
Namjoon picks his second muffin apart and Yoongi watches as it crumbles onto the flimsy plate that came with them. “Yeah, I keep track of most things,”
And Yoongi hears it, too, the underlying, I knew you both longer, which Yoongi takes as an explanation in itself, too.
Yoongi reaches across the table for half of the muffin Namjoon’s terrorised, and this time, Namjoon doesn’t slap his hand away. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s been about that long,”
“It’s been a while,” Namjoon pushes the rest of the muffin to Yoongi, who drags the plate to his side of the table, nose scrunching at the sight of the mess Namjoon had just made. They’ll have to clean that up after just because Yoongi likes this cafe and he can’t have any of the baristas spitting into his coffee, can he. “you’re doing what I think you’re gonna do?”
There’s a lot of things that Yoongi wants to do - with Hoseok, or for Hoseok. There’s just too many but Yoongi knows what Namjoon means, and when Yoongi drags his gaze away from Namjoon to look out the frosted glass window, the smile on his face almost shy, even, Namjoon doesn’t need to ask anything else, because he knows.
For now, Namjoon just takes Yoongi’s repeated, “It’s been a while.” with a smile that’s much, much softer, and eyes that curve into half-crescents, because it’s been a while and this - this has been a long time coming.
—
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It’s not exactly sudden because Yoongi’s wanted to do it for a while now, teetering over the edge between the idea of it and acting upon it. Three months since he had first thought of it - of actually proposing, and nearly eight years since he’d first thought that he wouldn’t quite mind if he’d spend the rest of his life with Hoseok.
Yoongi’s always known - and it’s because there’s always that little bit of him that had known all along, because Yoongi’s always been sure of it. If there’s anything he’s ever really certain of, then it’s Hoseok. There might not be a lot of things Yoongi is sure of - he’s not even sure if Hoseok would actually say yes because they’re doing so well just living together. Being together already. And Hoseok’s still so young - they both are, really, and Yoongi’s not one to talk when there’s hardly much of an age difference between them, it’s almost laughable.
They’ve had their fair share of turbulence, because nobody can fly so high without it. But - but they’ve managed, through the years. A few close calls here and there but whenever Yoongi looks back on it, what he remembers aren’t the slamming of the doors, or the rising of their voices - so high until it eventually cracks, - but the feel of Hoseok’s hand around his, grip tight.
And so it happens, three months after that first Thursday afternoon, with Hoseok asleep on his lap. Yoongi brushes through Hoseok’s hair one last time before he reaches beside him for the remote. There’s nothing good on tv and it’s too late for the both of them to be up, anyway, given how work still calls on them the next morning.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi tries, fingers folding over Hoseok’s shoulder. He tries to shake it, but he doesn’t have it in him to kick the boy off of the couch only to drag him into bed. “we really shouldn’t.” but even to his own ears, Yoongi can hear the defeat in his voice.
Yoongi tells himself that it’ll only be for ten minutes. Just ten minutes and then he’ll try again.
But instead of trying to wake Hoseok up again in ten minutes, Yoongi forgets, simply because he falls asleep, too, sinking down the length of the couch, with Hoseok fitting himself against him, Hoseok’s arm thrown around Yoongi’s neck.
In the morning, they both wake up wishing they’d just slept on the floor, because there’s a crick in their necks. Yoongi’s also almost positive he’s lost all feeling in his legs, too, something that has Hoseok laughing as he pulls Yoongi off of the couch, arms coming around Yoongi as he gathers him in a hug.
They’re both silent for a few moments, the only sound that passes between them the sound of their even breathing, and the slow ticking of the clock from somewhere across the room. Being pressed so close to Hoseok like this, though, Yoongi thinks he can hear the sound of Hoseok’s heart as it beats, a steady drum against his rib cage.
“I’m up,” Yoongi rasps out, hand patting lightly on the small of Hoseok’s back. “you’re gonna be late for work, babe.”
But Hoseok doesn’t listen, instead, he just tightens his hold around Yoongi, and for a few more minutes, they both just stand there in the middle of the living room, arms around each other. The world goes by in slow-motion and Yoongi closes his eyes, thinking that everything else could go by in rapid-quick succession, in a total fucking blur, and he wouldn’t mind. Yoongi doesn’t mind much, not when he’s got all he needs in his arms already.
—
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He doesn’t intend to tell anybody, not so soon, anyway, but he figures that Namjoon is a safe bet, given that he already knows. Had known even before their little coffee date, a few days ago.
“Maybe you should do it on Christmas,” Namjoon tells him in the middle of lunch. They’ve got maybe twenty minutes of lunch left but that doesn’t matter, not when they both decide on their own schedule. “or, not.” He takes back, seeing the look on Yoongi’s face - and it’s not that the idea of proposing to Hoseok on Christmas mortifies Yoongi, but - okay, the idea of proposing to Hoseok on Christmas mortifies him, that’s it.
“On Christmas,” Yoongi says, pushing down the urge to stab Namjoon with a chopstick. Or two. Or his bread knife. “fuck, as if. No way.”
“Well, okay, when, then?” Namjoon asks, sounding a lot more defeated after Yoongi had just flat out kicked his first idea to the curb. He raises an eyebrow at Yoongi who scowls at him from across the table.
Maybe lunch with Namjoon wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe for this kind of matter, Seokjin would have been a better fit. Or Jimin, even. But - but Namjoon works the closest to him and it’s so easy for them to meet halfway. Maybe Yoongi just really likes to beat himself up, hence.
“I don’t know,” Yoongi admits, mumbling. “when is the right time, anyway?”
It takes Namjoon all of three seconds to answer him, and it surprises Yoongi, even, how quickly Namjoon had said it and - and just how right he is when Namjoon says, “I don’t think there’s ever a right time for these things, hyung. I mean - you just have to do it.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow up at Namjoon, who shrugs and adds, “Unless you want to do a huge event, but, you already know you wanna marry him, so now you just have to ask. Y’know - just, whenever, or shit,”
A huge event.
Just the thought of doing an event has Yoongi’s fingers curling on top of his lap. It’s not a horrifying thought or anything - but he supposes something quieter is better, something more intimate. If Hoseok wants fireworks and all that jazz, then Yoongi would do it, he really would - anything for Hoseok, he thinks.
“No event,” Yoongi mutters, fingers closing around a glass of water. It’s starting to hit him then just how real this is going to be - just months ago all of this had been an idea he’d toyed with, a prospect that he could see over the horizon. But here he is, now, consulting Kim Namjoon. “oh, god, I’m really going to do it, aren’t I?”
Namjoon barks out a laugh, loud and surprised, and Yoongi wishes he could sink even lower in his seat but that’s impossible.
“You’re going to do fine, hyung,” Namjoon says, sounding much too amused for Yoongi’s liking. “you and Hoseok. Always have, always will, yeah?”
Namjoon is a good friend, Yoongi has to admit. He’s got his faults - hell, they’ve all got their faults - and there might have been a time where all Yoongi wanted to do was wring his neck, but, they’ve come far.
So far that Yoongi can’t believe Namjoon is the first to know; that Namjoon is the first to give him advice. It almost feels like a vice-like grip has taken hold of his insides and started to squeeze, Yoongi suddenly feeling a little bit too wound up, a little bit too tight, and it’s not Namjoon’s fault. It’s just that the wheels are starting to turn and Yoongi would be damned if he backs out now.
“I hate you,” Yoongi starts, lifting his head up to look at Namjoon. “sometimes, yeah.”
Namjoon scoffs at him.
Yoongi scowls.
The rest of lunch is pushed aside because Namjoon is having too much fun just teasing Yoongi, and Yoongi’s stomach is in too many knots for him to even think about eating.
—
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Hoseok reaches a hand out to tug at Yoongi’s scarf. “You look really cold,”
Yoongi grabs hold of Hoseok’s hand when Hoseok finally finishes with his scarf - he’d insisted Yoongi loop it around his neck one more time, but Yoongi had put his foot down on that idea because he didn’t want to voluntarily choke himself to save body heat.
“I’m fine,” Yoongi says, letting their linked hands swing between them. “you good to go?”
“Ready whenever you are,” Hoseok grins, squeezing at Yoongi’s hand.
It had been a busy Saturday - more for Yoongi than anything. He had been in and out of meetings the entire day - something that the entire office will hear about come Monday, because it’s a Saturday, for fuck’s sake, and Yoongi’s never really worked on a Saturday.
Some days are harder than most.
They grab dinner at a restaurant that Hoseok’s been raving about. It’s nothing fancy or over the top, just a quant little bistro tucked into a quiet street corner that’s often bypassed by so many. Yoongi takes a liking to it immediately - there’s not a lot of people, but that’s not a surprise, given that it’s nearly nine in the evening.
“Sorry for being so late,” Yoongi grimaces at Hoseok from across the table.
Hoseok reaches for Yoongi’s hand, his laughter rolling off his tongue and sounding a lot like the easy Sunday morning they’re both going to have tomorrow, “I had a late lunch with Tae so it’s fine,” and here Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi’s knuckle, his smile turning much softer now that it’s just the two of them, now that Yoongi’s finally managed to tear himself away from all the meetings and work.
The night goes by as easily as that, with the both of them laughing at each other, with each other, and then mostly at themselves as they bring to light a couple of hits and misses from so many years ago - from the too many pizzas they’d had to eat on date night, and the one-too-many beers they consumed. Right in the middle of college, in the middle of their goddamn finals.
“I miss that,” Yoongi links their hands together as they walk out of the restaurant. It’s a bit of a walk to where they’d parked and the night is definitely much colder, but it helps that he’s holding Hoseok’s hand. That Hoseok’s laughter wraps around Yoongi, keeping him warm. Always warm.
“Next Friday,” Hoseok promises.
“Okay,”
And it might have been years since the first time Hoseok had kissed him, years since they’d first held hands, but Yoongi can still feel it - the butterflies that flutter in his stomach, and the heavy weight of love that swells and blossoms in his chest.
It’s a cold, cold night, but they idle just outside of the car for a few minutes longer as Hoseok presses Yoongi against the side of the car to kiss him, one hand cradling the back of his head, and the other winding around Yoongi’s middle.
Yoongi kisses him back, tongue tracing up the roof of Hoseok’s mouth, and then running along the ridges of his teeth. He slides a hand into Hoseok’s hair, messing it up even more as he tugs, and tugs, and tugs, until Hoseok’s breathing turns heavy, his cheeks tinged pink - and this time around, it’s not just because of the cold
“Later.” Another promise that he knows he’ll be seeing to, and judging by the glint in Hoseok’s eyes, Yoongi’s got a feeling he knows, too.
—
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When his mother finds out just exactly what Yoongi wants to do, she smothers him in a hug and almost spills the cup of tea set in front of him.
There is still the case with Yoongi’s father - he still hardly acknowledges him, but it’s been so long already that Yoongi is used to it, now. It’s not okay, per se, but Yoongi figures he can live with it. Has been living with it all this time.
His mother tells him right before she sees him off, her small, dainty hand on his cheek, that he’ll come around.
Yoongi tells her not to hold her breath - something he takes back with a smile at the look on his mother’s face. He never means her any harm - not his mother, never. She shakes her head, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and Yoongi just leans in for another hug, because he knows she needs it. They both do.
“Tell Hoseok I said hi, okay?” she says, walking Yoongi to the gate, even with Yoongi’s protests. “He called me last week wanting to grab dinner. See that it happens.” she waves at Yoongi goodbye, the smile on her face making her look much younger, like the years have suddenly been lifted off of her. She looks good like that, much healthier when she’s smiling. When she’s happy.
With a final nod, Yoongi ducks down into the car, window rolled down the passenger’s side for a final goodbye.
“I’ll see you soon,” Yoongi says, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
As Yoongi drives away, the only thing he feels is thankful - for his mother who raised him with a gentle voice, and even gentler hands; who takes him in whenever it rains too hard and Yoongi is too scared to face it himself; who has nothing but praise and the kindest words for him.
His father is a different story, but his mother more than makes up for his deliberate absence. She will always be enough, thinks Yoongi. He’s more than happy to just have her - which is to say, how it really is, because he doesn’t really have much of a choice on that matter, but Yoongi’s long since past resenting his father and hating himself.
Yoongi will not wait on someone he knows will never turn around. He’s learnt that a long, long time ago.
With the sun on his heels, and the horizon a clear blue image ahead of him, there’s really no other reason for him to linger or wait around.
There’s no other way but forward.
—
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The first one to see the ring is Seokjin, mainly because Yoongi knows Namjoon would want to touch it, and there’s really no conceivable scenario in Yoongi’s mind where he wins at tugging the box quickly enough before Namjoon could get his grimy hands on it.
“Namjoon did say he found you loitering around your mom’s favourite jewellery shop,” Seokjin comments, peering at the small velvet box that Yoongi holds gingerly in his hand. Seokjin doesn’t have to ask to see it because Yoongi’s already dropping it into his open palm.
It’s not much, if Yoongi wants to say anything - it’s, well, just an engagement ring, is all. Just a white gold band, simple enough except for the small diamond that sits in the centre. It glitters as it catches the light, and Yoongi can feel it, now - his face heating up, and the blush that he’s sure has already crept up from his neck and up to his cheeks.
Seokjin thumbs over the band, eyes still stuck on the small ring.
“Hyung, say something,” Yoongi prods, kicking at Seokjin’s foot rather lamely. “I mean, you can start with breathing, for one.”
Seokjin sucks in a sharp breath and then lets it all out in one go. He tears his gaze away from the ring and lifts it up to look at Yoongi. “Oh, wow, Yoongi,” Seokjin starts, grinning at him.
Yoongi is going to end up as a pile of ashes and this is just Seokjin’s reaction. Yoongi can’t even imagine the response from his other friends - from all their friends, really. Or Hoseok’s. Yoongi feels like it would be much, much easier for him to just get swallowed up by a sink hole and disappear far, far away, maybe into the shadows. At least in the dark nobody would see the furious blush on his face.
It’s impossible to look away from Seokjin for too long, especially when Seokjin is all tinkling laughter and bright smiles at him, his hand coming around to clutch at Yoongi’s elbow. Yoongi eventually lifts his gaze off of the floor to look at Seokjin. He grimaces.
“Shit, I wish I could be there to see it,” Seokjin squeezes gently on Yoongi’s elbow. “wait, do you know how you’re going to do it yet?”
Yoongi takes the box back and slips it into a coat pocket, carefully patting around for it over his coat just to make sure. He double checks when he thinks Seokjin’s looked away but Seokjin catches him the second time around, snorting out a laugh when Yoongi just shrugs.
“I don’t know, maybe something intimate,” Definitely something intimate, but at this point, he and Hoseok could both be rolling in the mud and throwing rocks at each other and it would be intimate. They’re so far into their relationship already but Yoongi still gets butterflies; still feels his nerves burn whenever Hoseok touches him; still yearns for the boy whenever they’re not together. “or, like, whatever. Honestly, hyung, I have no idea how.”
Yoongi had thought something between the two of them would do just fine - he had thought that there would be no need for elaborate gestures, or too much planning, because Namjoon had been right. There’s really no right time for these things, but that still doesn’t mean Yoongi can’t plan.
And god, is he going to plan - it’s much easier to go into battle knowing what you’ve got to do than just, well, running straight in with hardly any idea. Yoongi is floundering between both sentiments, so he turns to Seokjin, who offers him nothing but a shrug and a, “No, I’m not planning this for you,”
“I didn’t want you to, oh, my god,” Yoongi groans, feeling a little helpless, now. “I mean - like, insight. You’re old,”
Seokjin’s gasp is too exaggerated to even be real, at this point. “Yeah, you’re on your own,”
“Hyung - “ Yoongi tries again, this time with a smile that he hopes doesn’t come out too pained.
It does, but Seokjin’s been on the receiving end of it one too many times to know that it’s just Yoongi’s show of trying really, really hard, even if he has to grit his teeth, and lower his pride to get some help.
“No, I mean it, Yoongi,” Seokjin doesn’t sound mean, or even teasing. He sounds every which way Namjoon had when the younger boy had told him that there really is no right time for this, that one can never really tell. Yoongi dreads the words out of Seokjin’s mouth before he even hears them. “this is all on you.”
Seokjin pats his cheek rather fondly, the smile on his face turning friendly. He isn’t the first one to tell him that but for some reason, it doesn’t help Yoongi at all. Doesn’t ease his nerves or make him feel the least bit better, because, god, he’s got a ring, now, and he’s told his mother, and this is all happening, this is fucking happening, and,
“I told my mom the other day,” Yoongi whines, toying with a lighter, a distraction from the overwhelming reality that’s set out to crush him, because why did Yoongi even think he could do this - they’re still so young, Hoseok’s barely twenty five, and they’ve got the rest of their lives ahead of them, but at the same time -
At he same time, whenever Yoongi thinks about the future, or all the tomorrows before him, he sees Hoseok. Feels Hoseok’s hand in his, and hears Hoseok’s laughter. There has not been one tomorrow that Yoongi’s already imagined that does not involve Hoseok.
He curls his fingers around the lighter, swallows past the doubts, the insecurities, and then lets it out in one sigh that ghosts over his shaking bones, and his taut nerves. “Fuck, this is going to happen,”
“Yeah, it better,” Seokjin chides, quietly following Yoongi to the door. “not to pressure you or anything, but I’ve had your present reserved for over a year now, so.”
Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly on top of the world and carrying the weight of all of it on his shoulders at the same time, but - but there is a stronger resolve inside of him, a fire that burns brighter and hotter with every second that passes, because this is something he knows to be true -
Hoseok is all he’ll ever really need, today, and all the tomorrows they’ve got ahead of them.
“This is happening,” Yoongi sounds as nervous as ever, and he probably looks half-crazed, but he doesn’t care. “I’m going to marry him.”
—
△
(Yoongi tries to propose to Hoseok - three times he tries. Twice he fails.
It goes like this.)
—
△
First—
Yoongi thinks he’s got it down - the day, the time, the location. He’s got it all figured out, he’s pretty sure. Dinner at Hoseok’s favourite restaurant. Probably two rounds of dessert, because Hoseok is a fool for their cheesecake, and Yoongi is a fool for him, so why not, really. And then - and then a short walk. The nights may have gotten colder, but they’ve both started to bundle up a bit more, Yoongi with his large scarves, and Hoseok with his oversized coats that Yoongi can only hope makes up for the fact that he’s still got a terrible penchant for wearing ripped jeans.
And he was going to propose somewhere nice, somewhere quiet after dinner. Just across the lake, where the view of the city they’ve both grown so fond of sits just across from them, the lights of so many buildings blinking, and twinkling as if to make up for the lack of stars that they see in the night sky.
Saturday, Yoongi had decided - tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
But that plan all goes to shit when Yoongi walks through the door that Friday night to find Hoseok sprawled on the living room floor, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates on stacking the pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of him. Yoongi can see a few plastic bags lying around, too - beer, he’s pretty sure.
Hoseok’s already dressed for the occasion - an old cotton shirt that Yoongi knows is his favourite simply because it’s old and worn, and so soft, Yoongi doesn’t blame him.
“What’s this?” Yoongi shrugs out of his jacket and turns away for a brief second to hang it by the rack. He shuffles out of his shoes and drops his bag by the doorway, something he can always come back to and clean up later. Yoongi walks over to where Hoseok’s sat on the floor, Hoseok already reaching out his hands for Yoongi.
Hoseok tugs him down onto his lap, and it takes a little bit of shuffling around but Yoongi finally finds a cosy spot, leaning against Hoseok’s chest, with his head on Hoseok’s shoulder.
“I promised last week,” Hoseok grins, brushing his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, careful not to tug too harshly. “you’re just in time for dinner.”
And Yoongi has a plan, he really does - tomorrow, dinner, two rounds of dessert, a walk, the view of the city, and him getting down on one knee - but that all goes flying out the window when Hoseok kisses down the side of Yoongi’s neck, light and soft, with the pure intention of helping Yoongi unwind after a long day at work.
Hoseok is a miracle worker because it doesn’t take long for Yoongi to practically melt into his arms and slump against him, head craned to the side to give Hoseok more access.
“God, I love you,” Yoongi sighs, feeling Hoseok’s feather-light fingers tickle down the side of his stomach, warm hand creeping under Yoongi’s shirt. “marry me, yeah?”
There is a quiet pause in which all Yoongi hears is the sound of his own breathing - not even the sound of his own heart beating because he’s pretty sure his heart had stopped drumming the second his brain had short circuited.
It is a terse and quiet pause that’s only broken when Hoseok smothers his laughter into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, his smile pressing against Yoongi’s skin, and so, so wide as his body rocks with the intensity of his laughter.
The feeling returns to Yoongi’s fingers and his toes, and his heart starts to beat again, and Yoongi breathes out, relieved, almost, that Hoseok had chosen to laugh it off - it’s not the first time Yoongi had said it all too casual. Hoseok’s said it, too, once, when Yoongi had spoon fed him porridge after a terrible bout with the flu.
They’d laughed then, too.
“I’m hungry,” Yoongi twists in Hoseok’s arms, successfully wriggling out of his hold. Hoseok’s stopped laughing but Yoongi can still feel it - the waves that had rolled over him when Hoseok had laughed, bright and brilliant.
Hoseok doesn’t bring it up because Yoongi doesn’t - and he’s absolutely petrified, at this point, the small box in his jean pocket suddenly heavy and burning cold.
They eat their pizza and sip on their beer, and halfway into dinner, Hoseok throws an arm around Yoongi and drags him back against his side.
Yoongi pushes the plate of pizza away from him and nuzzles closer to Hoseok, greasy fingers bunching on Hoseok’s favourite white shirt.
Hoseok doesn’t say anything about it, but he does scrunch his nose at Yoongi and pouts at him.
Yoongi kisses the pout away and murmurs, “Thanks for doing this,”
Hoseok kisses Yoongi again, their lips brushing softly, chastely, even, and pulls back with a smile that’s so fucking soft, and so goddamn tender, Yoongi actually feels a painful squeeze at his heart. “Anything for you, Yoongi,”
So what if Yoongi’s initial plan had crashed and burned before he’d even had a chance to bring up their dinner plans for tomorrow. So what, really, because now Yoongi feels a different kind of ease settling over him, his bones and nerves finally calm enough that he can hear the very whistling of the air as he breathes in.
Maybe there is no need for a fancy dinner and an impractical walk by the lake (especially when it’s getting really, really cold out, temperatures dropping as they near winter). Maybe there is no need for that because now that Yoongi thinks about it - he can very well propose to Hoseok right here, right now. Just reiterate his statement earlier, say he had meant it.
He doesn’t, though, because Namjoon had been right all along - while Yoongi doesn’t know when the right time is exactly, he knows that it’s not now. Not when Hoseok is practically falling asleep beside him, tired out from work, and the dark circles under his eyes causing a sense of alarm in Yoongi.
He decides on some other time - because they’ve got all the time in the world, the both of them - and pushes off of the floor before Hoseok can say anything. He pulls Hoseok up to his feet and steers them both into the bedroom.
The door shuts behind them with a quiet click, and the small velvet box in Yoongi’s pocket is forgotten for the meantime.
Yoongi rolls Hoseok over to his side of the bed, throws the covers over the both of them, and smiles when Hoseok tucks his head in the space between the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. Yoongi can feel the smile that Hoseok presses against his skin. He’s lulled asleep to Hoseok’s fingers trailing softly down the side of his ribs, alternating between lazy drags and slow, gentle drums of his fingers.
“Do we have any plans tomorrow?” Hoseok asks, voice quiet and near a whisper.
“Nothing,” Yoongi presses a kiss onto Hoseok’s temple and sighs, “it’s just gonna be us tomorrow.”
“That’s always my favourite.” he hears Hoseok murmur. Feels the slow dragging of his fingers against his chest stop as Hoseok is pulled under by sleep.
Yoongi curls his fingers around Hoseok’s hair and lets his eyes flutter to a close.
Yeah.
Yoongi’s got nothing planned tomorrow, anyway.
—
△
“Can I see the ring?” Namjoon asks, watching as Yoongi passes the small box to Jimin, who carefully pops it open, eyes trained on the band the whole time. “This isn’t fair, why the fuck are you giving it to Jimin?”
“Because I didn’t just scarf down two hot dogs and wiped my hands on my pants,” Jimin chortles, pulling his hand away from Namjoon as Namjoon tries to swipe at it. “seriously, he wiped his hands on his pants.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, “That’s the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,”
“Today, you mean,” it’s Jeongguk who says it, the boy arriving with Taehyung, and the sound of the small cafe’s twinkling wind chimes following in their wake. He plops himself down beside Yoongi, no hi, how are you, instead, Jeongguk just props his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder.
It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon, the remnants of autumn quietly trickling away as they spend it holed up in Jimin’s cosy little cafe.
Taehyung all but drapes himself on top of Jimin, arms coming around Jimin’s shoulder as he leans in closer to get a better view of the ring. “That looks expensive,”
“It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi waves the accusation away - Taehyung isn’t wrong, but Yoongi would rather not dwell on prices. And he’s not going to say it out loud, but anything on Hoseok looks like a million dollars, anyway, so it doesn’t matter if the ring’s expensive. It’s going to look good on Hoseok - that is, if he decides to wear it, anyway.
And god, Yoongi had thought he’d passed that block, but ever since last Friday - ever since that little slip up, Yoongi had started to tense up, afraid that he might say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
There it is again - the right time for these things.
He hasn’t figured it out, not yet, but Yoongi thinks that he’ll known when it comes.
Or so he hopes, anyway.
“Oh, yeah, before you go,” Jimin slides the box across their small table and Jeongguk cups it in his hand before Namjoon has a chance to grab at it.
Yoongi’s not even doing it just to spite Namjoon, or because he thinks the ring would fall on dangerous hands - Namjoon’s actually very careful, he can just be, well, prone to accidents - he just likes to see Namjoon struggle against the younger boys, Jeongguk especially.
Jeongguk looks like he’s having too much fun holding the box over Namjoon’s head, and for a second, Yoongi feels like they’re four years back - university and part time jobs kicking their asses as they flounder in the water, gasping for air. Four years forward and they’re here, now, and Yoongi had thought, once, that life couldn’t get much better - he’d had Hoseok, his friends, and that was back in university, even - but it does. Somehow, someway, it always gets better.
Jimin places a large box in front of Yoongi, his smile bright when he says that it’s for Hoseok. “Hoseok hyung’s always been the first to try new recipes,” Jimin explains, fingers tugging at the small, delicate ribbon wrapped rather messily on top of the box. “it’s for next month’s specials. Hoseok hyung can thank me by letting me make the wedding cake.”
And thank god, honestly, for the cap that Yoongi’s pulled down low over his face, because there’s really no other reason for the furious blush that’s crept up his cheeks. Jeongguk erupts into a loud fit of laughter - that quickly turn into giggles when he notices Yoongi’s face, and the smug look on Jimin’s.
“Oh, my god, can I DJ, then?” Jeongguk asks, pressing closer to Yoongi.
“Have you even DJed before?” Namjoon asks, brows furrowing.
“No, because he decided on that life goal literally three days ago. You should hire him, hyung, we can do the Macarena,” Taehyung provides. He tugs the ribbon on top of the box loose and Jimin scowls at him, slapping his hand away. “I’m serious, I’ve got a good feeling about Jeongguk, he can be the next Selena Gomez.”
“She’s not even a goddamn DJ,” Yoongi’s given up on trying to extract Jeongguk from his side, and he’s partially given up on his friends, too - but that already goes without saying.
Taehyung barks out a laugh, loud and bouncing across the walls of the quaint little cafe, and shakes his head, “Yeah, but she dated a DJ,”
“I take offence. Why couldn’t you say Calvin Harris, David Guetta, or, like,” here Jeongguk pauses, lifting his head off of Yoongi’s shoulder to squint at Taehyung. “ah, Skrillex.”
That’s it.
Yoongi grabs for the box of pastries and pushes off of the chair, navigating his way out of the tight cluster they’d all managed to push themselves into. He’s pretty sure the cafe’s got more than one small, tiny table meant for two people, but here they are, crowded around it, and practically sitting on each other’s lap.
“Yeah, okay, I need to go,” Yoongi smiles at Jimin and grimaces at the rest of them - Jeongguk gets a scowl, because just the thought of him picking the songs for the wedding, of Jeongguk DJing, jesus christ, is enough to make Yoongi want to run. And far away, too. “thanks for these, Jimin, and the rest of you - look both ways before crossing.” This last bit he says to Taehyung, who only grins at him, wide and toothy.
Feral, even, now that Yoongi’s gotten a good look at him.
With a final nod and just the slightest curving of his lips, Yoongi waves goodbye to them, the box full of pastries heavy in his hand.
And later, when Hoseok walks through the doors, grumbling about a co-worker that could better serve the country if they just jumped out a second floor window. Yoongi only ever has to point at the box sitting on top of the kitchen counter and it would be enough - Hoseok doesn’t even bother taking off his coat, or his scarf, he just runs right to it.
Hoseok forgets to kiss Yoongi hello but that’s fine because he more than makes up for it after his second cupcake when he curls a finger under Yoongi’s chin and kisses him, tongue curling around Yoongi’s. It’s crazy, then, how the kiss has Yoongi’s fingers curling over Hoseok’s arm, but at the same time has his head feeling so light, because Hoseok tastes like frosting. Too sugary and too sweet.
Yoongi loves it.
—
△
Second—
Reaching into his coat pocket, Yoongi thumbs at the box. Hoseok is still stalled inside of the car, rummaging around in the back trying to find the bottle of wine he was sure he’d stashed somewhere in the car for occasions like this.
This being -
Dinner at Seokjin’s place. They try to do it at least once a month. Life gets busy for everyone - they’ve all come along way but this tight-knit group of friends they have, that they’re apart of. That hasn’t changed at all.
“Found it,” Hoseok declares, brandishing the bottle of wine at Yoongi, who raises an eyebrow at him as he stands just in front of Seokjin’s front door. “and you said it was a bad idea to keep alcohol in the car.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Yeah, because you - okay, we have a shared tendency to drink everything in sight,” he reaches his hand out for Hoseok to take, their fingers curling together before they instinctively slide it in the spaces between. It’s become a instinct now, reaching out for Hoseok and holding his hand.
“Do I look like I’ve just been mangled by my students?” Hoseok asks, ruffling at his hair. Yoongi hears the sound of footsteps, Jeongguk’s, I got it, ringing through the thick wooden door.
Yoongi bumps their noses together, inhales the cold air, and pecks a kiss on the top of Hoseok’s lips. “Nah, you look beautiful.”
Hoseok’s smile then might just be the brightest thing Yoongi’s seen that night.
(He’s lying, of course, because Yoongi’s pretty fucking sure Hoseok’s smile is the brightest thing he’s seen, period.)
—
Dinner is a fun affair filled with everyone trying to talk over one another. With food being passed around, and the drinks overflowing, too, but that’s only natural for them. Nobody’s so much as touched the salad, though, and while Jimin swears that he’d brought the cake for everyone, he’s not telling Hoseok off for hoarding the entire thing to himself, practically digging into it with his own fork.
Yoongi can only look at him from across the table with a smile that he hopes doesn’t look stupid. Or, okay, too stupid.
They’re all in the living room, the tv’s volume low, and Namjoon in the middle of the room, gesturing wildly as he talks about a particular client - someone rich, successful, now, given how much of a douchebag they were back in college. “I should know, I kicked his ass, once. That time during third year, remember?”
Jimin claps his hands together at the memory, “Yeah, yeah, the one after midterms? I remember,”
It’s warm and cosy, this - an evening with his closest friends. Friends who are practically family by now. And Yoongi remembers that he’d said he hadn’t wanted an actual event, that he’d only wanted it to be just him and Hoseok, but being here in the presence of people who’ve seen him, good and bad, and still decided to stay, he thinks that it’s only fitting, really.
So he takes Hoseok’s hand in his, runs his thumb across Hoseok’s knuckle, and brings it up to his lips for a kiss that he presses against the back of Hoseok’s hand.
Jeongguk gives him a look from the other side of the room - curled up against the coffee table with Taehyung, legs entangled, and their heads brought together, and then smiles, like he knows.
Yoongi hates that boy sometimes, but.
But Hoseok is a comforting presence beside him, leaning against him. Hoseok leans his head against Yoongi’s shoulder and copies the gesture, this time bringing Yoongi’s hand up to his mouth for a kiss, his smile a small one when he looks at Yoongi. It’s one of Yoongi’s favourite smiles - the kind of smile that Yoongi knows is just for him. The kind of smile that he knows he can hold on to for as long as he wants, for as long as he needs to. The kind of smile that he can tuck into a sleeve in his heart. The kind of smile that keeps Yoongi warm.
Hoseok always keeps him warm.
Yoongi only notices that the entire room’s gone completely quiet when he leans in closer to Hoseok and says, his voice practically ringing like a fog horn with how fucking silent everyone’s gotten, “I wanna ask you something,”
“Holy shit,” Taehyung curses, jolting up beside Jeongguk, who curls his fingers against Taehyung’s knee, nails digging into the soft denim of his jeans.
Jimin aims a kick at Taehyung and misses.
Seokjin shifts in his seat and Namjoon drops down on the couch beside Jimin.
All eyes are on them and only Yoongi seems to notice, because Hoseok’s looking at him like he always does, like he’s only ever got his eyes set on Yoongi.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, because there’s five pairs of eyes trained on them, and Hoseok’s got his hand locked around Yoongi, and his eyes are turning too soft, too tender, that Yoongi actually feels his heart constricting, because he loves him, he really does, and if there’s any other moment for it, then it’s now, because these boys may be a pain in the ass and constant thorns to his side, but they’re family, and -
And holy shit, now that Yoongi’s patting at the pockets of his jeans, he realises that he hasn’t even got the ring on him. It’s in his coat by the door, and, christ.
“Erm,” Yoongi starts off with a laugh that trails on to sounding just a tad bit nervous when he realises that everyone’s still looking at them. Still waiting. “can I kiss you?”
“He had to ask,” Hoseok says, voice just a notch louder than normal for the rest of them to hear. “Yoongi just asked if he could kiss me,”
Yoongi tugs on their joined hands, scowling at Hoseok.
“How long have you been together?” Jeongguk asks, the grin on his face cheeky.
“Shut up,” Yoongi says the same time that Namjoon blurts out, almost automatically,
“Seven years, eight in three months,”
“Why do you keep track?” Seokjin asks, an eyebrow raised.
Jimin bumps his shoulder against Namjoon as he laughs out, “Seriously?”
Namjoon just shrugs his shoulders and says, “Yoongi hyung had an obnoxious calendar in the dorm before. He’d marked the same day every month. Drew, like, a hundred hearts around March twentieth, and I figured. It’s not rocket science, christ.”
“You had a calendar?” Yoongi feels Hoseok’s grip around his hand tighten. When he drags his gaze away from Namjoon - and there will be hell to pay for that. Yoongi had gotten him to fucking swear not to talk about it to anyone, and it doesn’t matter that it had been seven goddamn years ago, that shit is supposed to be sacred. - he sees that Hoseok’s biting down on his lower lip, trying and ultimately failing to suppress his smile. Hoseok’s cheeks are a dusty rose, his smile so wide, Yoongi can’t help but just nod his head and mumble out a rather defeated yeah. “Oh, my god, babe, I had no idea,”
It’s a racket of Namjoon explaining the calendar again to the rest of them and Yoongi trying not to drown in Hoseok’s laughter.
“That’s so fucking adorable, I can’t believe this,” Taehyung leans back to grab at his glass of wine, and with a sweeping glance at the rest of the room, he raises it and says, “a toast to Namjoon hyung’s memory, then,”
“And overall creeper factor,” Jeongguk adds, tapping his glass gently against Taehyung’s.
Namjoon doesn’t take offence because he’s got a hold of the bottle, and with no glass in sight, he decides that the next best case scenario is to just drink it straight from the bottle. He looks oddly pleased with that, too.
There’s a loud ruckus, laughter that bounces off the four walls of Seokjin’s apartment, and they’re pouring themselves another round of drinks - from a totally new bottle now, because nobody’s touching the one Namjoon’s got in his hands.
Except for Yoongi and Hoseok.
Hoseok’s face shifts, then, from one of genuine surprise to a kind of tenderness that sends the butterflies in Yoongi’s stomach into a frenzy. Seven years - nearly eight in three months - and that still hasn’t changed, either.
“So, can I?” Yoongi prompts, tugging Hoseok closer against him, until Hoseok tumbles into his embrace, the both of them pressed against the side of the couch, Hoseok practically sitting on his lap, at this point.
Hoseok bumps their noses together, his smile almost shy, and says, “Yes, yes, yes, okay? Now c’mere,” and before Yoongi can even let out a laugh that he can only attribute to the relief that washes over him, Hoseok is cupping his jaw in his palm, while the other holds onto Yoongi’s hand tightly as he leans in to kiss him.
Yoongi runs his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, hand settling on the base of Hoseok’s nape, and Yoongi may have asked the wrong question, but just hearing the yes trip from out of Hoseok’s tongue and into Yoongi’s open palm has his heart beating just that little bit faster, and his nerves tangling into knots he already feels so helpless against.
It’s not a bad feeling, Yoongi thinks.
—
△
They’re in bed, heads feeling a little bit light from all the drinks. But it’s warm under the covers and Hoseok’s latched onto his side, a hand softly brushing at Yoongi’s hair.
“I love you,” Yoongi murmurs against Hoseok’s jaw. “and I’m here for the long haul, yeah?”
Hoseok shifts beside him, fingers catching at a knot in Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi winces at it but Hoseok quickly soothes it over with a fleeting kiss he presses to Yoongi’s temple.
They’re both so sleepy, the alcohol dragging them down into sleep faster than normal nights.
“Good, because I was thinking the same thing,” Hoseok smothers his yawn against Yoongi’s hair, hooks his leg over Yoongi’s, and is quiet for a few long beats, before he adds, “here for as long as you’ll have me.”
Yoongi throws his arm around Hoseok and drags him closer until they’re practically pressed together on the bed, barely a breadth of an inch between them. Yoongi trails kisses down the side of Hoseok’s face. Starts from the top of his head, and then to his cheek, the tip of his nose, his jaw, until he finally gets to Hoseok’s mouth, kissing him slow and lazy, but tender, because there’s no other way around this, with them.
“That’s gonna be really long time, then,” Yoongi murmurs sleepily, pulling away from the kiss because he’d suddenly felt the urge to yawn. He cups at Hoseok’s face, fingers pressing gently into Hoseok’s cheek. He gets a small, fond smile from Hoseok in return. “a really, really long time.”
Hoseok hums his approval, eyes fluttering heavily, because it’s late, and they’d had too much to eat, too much to drink.
The last thing Hoseok says before he falls asleep is a soft whisper of the words, “That’s the plan, babe.”
—
△
Third—
“Wake up,” Hoseok murmurs, breath warm against Yoongi’s cheek. He feels Hoseok’s fingers rake through his hair. Tastes the chaste kiss that Hoseok pecks on his mouth. Yoongi can also feel Hoseok’s side of the bed shifting, Hoseok rolling off to get up on his feet. Before Yoongi can protest anything, Hoseok is already by his side, fingers locked around Yoongi’s wrists, and tugging him up.
Yoongi leans against Hoseok, chin propping up on Hoseok’s shoulder as he wraps a hand lazily around Hoseok’s middle. “Why do you hate me?”
“Because I love you,” Hoseok hauls a sleepy Yoongi off of the bed and onto the floor, Yoongi barely able to find his footing had Hoseok not held him up the entire time.
It’s too early and they’d slept too late last night - not to mention the copious amounts of alcohol they’d both had to drink. Why Hoseok is suddenly so eager to start the day is beyond Yoongi.
“Water,” Hoseok says, passing Yoongi a glass as he drops Yoongi onto the couch. “are you feeling okay? D’you have a hangover?”
Yoongi shakes his head no, because there’s no ebbing headache. He also thinks that he’s not about to throw up the rest of his guts, so. “I’m fine, I just,” Yoongi reaches blindly for Hoseok, fingers grazing against Hoseok’s hand before Hoseok pulls away from him. “come here, it’s too early for this nonsense.”
Instead of curling up on the couch beside him, Hoseok just throws a quilt over Yoongi, leans down to press a kiss onto his forehead, and says, “I’ll be back in a couple. I’ll get us breakfast and coffee, yeah?”
Yoongi doesn’t even know how much time’s passed before Hoseok comes back. He’s stirred awake by the sound of the door creaking open, and Hoseok stopping by the kitchen table to place the bag of food and tray of coffee down.
He walks over back to Yoongi. Runs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, presses a kiss to his forehead, and then to the tip of his nose, and smiles, warm and happy. Content. “I dragged my ass out of the apartment to get you coffee, the least you can do is drink it,”
Yoongi pinches at Hoseok’s cheek, “Yeah, you’re the best, Hoseok,” and after a second, with Yoongi smoothing over the pinched skin with a thumb, he says, voice not missing a beat, “d’you wanna marry me?”
Hoseok blinks down at him, the tray of coffee in his hand shaking when Yoongi doesn’t take it back. When Yoongi holds his gaze, and sits up straighter on the couch, throwing off the quilt.
“Yoongi,” he hears Hoseok say, voice quiet. It’s not shocked, not even mortified, it’s something else - something raw. Something that sounds a lot like hope. “oh, my god, what are you doing - where are you going?”
Yoongi pads over to where his coat from last night is draped over the back of a chair. He fishes around in the inner pockets until he finds the small, smooth velvet box. Yoongi’s heart is beating too fast, the blood rushing through his veins practically screaming.
He doesn’t even have the chance to get down on one knee because the tray of coffee in Hoseok’s hand tumbles out of his grip. Yoongi barely manages to grab for it.
“What are you doing?” Hoseok doesn’t look like he would have cared at all had the coffee just spilled on their plush carpet. “Yoongi, say something.” there’s no panic, though, nothing of the sort - Hoseok’s mouth slowly tugs up into a smile on the corners until he has to bite down on his bottom lip again, his smile suddenly too big, too bright.
Hoseok’s always been too big, too bright, too beautiful.
“I tried two times,” Yoongi tells him, stopping just in front of Hoseok. “you laughed the first time, and that was fine,” Yoongi likes the sound of Hoseok’s laugh. Won’t mind hearing it every day for the rest of his life. “and then a second time last night, I was - I was gonna ask you in front of everyone, but then I forgot the ring in my coat.”
Hoseok’s somehow laced his fingers through Yoongi’s, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You have the ring now,”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, his blush rising high up on his cheeks as he nudges their hands together. He’s still got the box enclosed in one hand. “but, wait, shit, let me do this,”
Yoongi tries to slink down onto one knee, but Hoseok follows him, and they probably look hilarious like this, but that doesn’t matter. It only just means more of a reason for Hoseok to laugh, and that - that is something Yoongi needs all the reasons for, because Hoseok’s laughter can push away at the grey clouds, and calm the raging waters of the ocean.
“Before you say anything,” Hoseok reaches into his coat pocket and Yoongi watches with wide eyes when Hoseok produces a small black box of his own. It looks an awful lot like the one Yoongi’s holding.
“Is that,” Yoongi starts, voice caught in the middle of his throat. “holy shit, Hoseok.”
Hoseok pops the box open and in it sits a ring similar to the one Yoongi had chosen for him.
Yoongi does the same and watches as Hoseok almost chokes on a sob, that soon turns into a laugh, because of course, of course. Hoseok throws himself on Yoongi, face buried in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi wraps his arms around him, and holds him tight. He can feel the wetness of Hoseok’s cheeks against his skin, can hear the surprised laugh turn into quiet little sobs that Hoseok tries to push down.
“This is unbelievable,” Hoseok says, eyes still wet with tears when he lifts his head up to look at Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t even trust himself to say anything else, or do anything else but smile at Hoseok, and wipe at his tears. He can’t because his vision is suddenly blurry, everything he’d ever wanted to say to Hoseok stuck in his throat, because there’s nothing else Yoongi can say to trump a messy proposal that had almost set his own heart on fire.
Hoseok cups a hand around Yoongi’s jaw, and leans in to kiss him, “Ask me the question again,”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi starts to say. He hears the shaking in his own voice. Can feel the first tear drop roll down his cheek. His hands are shaking, but he manages to gingerly hold onto the ring, and grab at Hoseok’s offered hand. “will you marry me?”
“Okay,” Hoseok teases, but the second Yoongi slips the ring down Hoseok’s finger, Hoseok loses whatever small shred of composure he’d had. The tears start to well in his eyes again and Yoongi smiles at him, so fucking fond, and so goddamn in love that it’s starting to hurt, but he smiles, and he smiles, until Hoseok lifts his gaze up from the band around his finger to look at Yoongi, grinning when he finally says, “yes, yes, yes, fuck yeah.”
Yoongi tugs Hoseok up with him but Hoseok doesn’t budge. He stays put on the floor, kneeling down on one knee, and Yoongi gets it, he really does.
“Your turn,” Yoongi curls his fingers around Hoseok’s, and waits for Hoseok to ask the question. Waits with the rest of the world, because everyone’s waiting with bated breaths - the wind has stopped blowing, and the sun has paused in its shining. The moon’s peeked around the clouds, the stars mid-twinkle behind it. Even the waves have stopped rolling, because the entire world waits with Yoongi, now.
“I’ve been holding out on proposing for the past month, so here it goes,” Hoseok slips the ring around Yoongi’s finger before he even asks the question, and laughs a wet laugh when he realises his mistake. He doesn’t take the ring back, though, but instead, just tugs on Yoongi’s hand, slips their fingers together, and says, “I know I already said yes, but, still. Babe - baby, Yoongi, will you marry me?”
Yoongi pulls Hoseok up to his feet then, cups his face in both his hands, and kisses him so hard, Hoseok trips and falls onto the couch, Yoongi crashing on top of him.
“Fuck, yeah, of course I’ll marry you,” Yoongi grins. He doesn’t bother swiping at the tears that have started again because Hoseok’s already alternating between swiping them away and kissing Yoongi. “I’ll marry you right here, right now.”
The room is filled with a mixture of their laughter, loud and relieved. There is a promise underneath the soundtrack of their laugh, hope that rings true, and beautiful, and there is happiness so immeasurable, not even the vastness of the ocean can hold a candle to it.
It’s when they’ve both fit themselves on the edge of the couch, Hoseok’s arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, and Yoongi pressed close to his side, that Yoongi thinks back on what Namjoon had said. That there’s no proper time for these things, that one can never really tell, and Yoongi’s tried to propose to Hoseok three times. Three times he’s learned that the right time will always be now.
Yoongi turns his head to trail a few kisses down the length of Hoseok’s jaw, and then to the base of his neck.
Hoseok twists around until he’s looking at Yoongi, now, until he’s got a hand cupping at Yoongi’s cheek. “Hey, what’s the game plan, now?”
When Hoseok looks at him, Yoongi thinks he can see the birth of a new star behind Hoseok’s eyes. Thinks he can feel the shifting of the earth when Hoseok smiles at him.
“I love you and we’re going to get married,” Yoongi says, smiling. He leans into Hoseok’s touch, at the warmth that his hand provides.
“I’ll have you everyday,” Hoseok murmurs, lips brushing against Yoongi’s as he leans in close, barely an inch between them. “and we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together.”
Yoongi takes a moment to just look at Hoseok. Hoseok, whose smile Yoongi is convinced is made out of various of stars, a constellation in and of itself.
“I can’t wait.” and it only takes one final breath before Yoongi kisses Hoseok again, slow and lazy because there’s no rush.
And it might be the first day of winter, but Yoongi thinks that it is the warmest day, yet.