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Chapter Text

Hoseok was on his third day of crying in bed after watching season three, episode seven, of The 100. The first day, he had to call in sick for dance practice. He hadn’t missed dance practice in years. The second day, his roommate, Namjoon, gave him a lecture about how he would never amount to anything if he moped around all day crying over a tv show. But it wasn’t just a tv show. The 100 was a reflection of the world. The world that Hoseok had invested himself in for years. He’d put up with angry fans shit-talking Lexa for having too much screen time. He’d put up with the destruction of his favorite characters. He’d put up with the drastic drop of Bellamy Blake’s character development. But this was too far. Episode seven had showed Hoseok what hell was really like. And he had every right to mope around for as long as he wanted to.

On the third day, Namjoon decided he’d had enough. He couldn’t cook for shit, and had nearly burned the building down multiple times. Hoseok was cruelly dragged out of his room and sat down on the couch.

“Listen,” Namjoon started. “You’re not in a breakup. No one you know directly has passed away. Lexa wasn’t even a real person. I need food. I’m broke and I can’t even cook fucking ramen. Jungkook and Jimin have already called twice asking why they haven't have a fucking teacher at practice for the past two days. You need to get your shit together. Which is why I’m dragging your ass to a club so you can get laid and fuck the pain away. Get ready, we’re leaving in half an hour.” With that, he got up and left.

Hoseok froze with his mouth hanging open, one because the thought of interaction scared him right now, and two because Namjoon had said Lexa wasn’t a real person.

He decided he had no choice but to obey the younger male and make himself look presentable to the best of his ability. He threw on some clean clothes and combed his hair before walking out the door towards certain death.

-

The club was dark and too noisy. Strobe lights blinded the living daylights out of him and everything was too sweaty. There were bodies everywhere, not dead ones, but inappropriate ones. Hoseok wrinkled his nose in disgust before making his way to find solace at the bar. He ordered as much alcohol as he could and downed way too many shots. Hoseok was nearly out cold before he noticed a man sit next to him. He had a beard and looked oddly familiar.

“Hey, I’ve seen you before,” Hoseok slurred. The man turned his head and stared at him questionably.

“Robby! From The Bachelorette! Wow, it’s an honor. Really sorry about Jojo,” the peach-haired male apologized.

Robby sighed. “Dude, I came here to forget.”

“Me too. My favorite person in the world died on Thursday.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Robby said, looking sympathetic.

“It’s okay. She wasn’t real. I wonder if I could be on The Bachelorette. I bet I would win. I could just pretend that the bachelorette was Lexa. Even though she was a lesbian.” Hoseok was delusional. And drunk. Robby probably thought he was an idiot.

“Uh, that’s nice, dude, but don’t get your hopes up. All that show does is break your goddamn heart. It’s all scripted, but the love is still there,” Robby explained.

Robby had beer in his beard. It looked poetic, like it symbolized something.

Hoseok contemplated this statement. What more did he have to lose? Lexa was dead and Clarke was alone. Maybe he craved heartbreak. Maybe he craved something real, something Jason Rothenburg couldn’t touch.

Hoseok stumbled off the bar stool after downing one last shot of vodka. He hobbled over to where Namjoon was grinding some girl and told him he was leaving.

“I’m going home to send in an application to The Bachelorette," Hoseok yelled over the loud music. Namjoon muttered a reply, but Hoseok was already out the door.

Hoseok ran all the way to the dorm, surprised he even remembered how to run, let alone his way home. He nearly ran into an angry man, a wet dog, and a stop sign. It was okay though, because he only trampled fourteen gardens.

He stampeded up the stairs before grabbing his laptop and trying to type in his application. The thing would be teeming with typos but Hoseok didn’t care, he just wanted to get this over and done with before he regretted it.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Taehyung, what do you want? I’m in the middle of something,” Hoseok answered.

“That’s exactly my problem. Namjoon called me to tell me to call you to make sure you didn’t send in an application for a reality tv show or something. Said he was too busy hitting it off with a chick to do it himself. Don’t know what that means. He’s totally dating Seokjin from painting. Have you seen the way he–“

“Taehyung!” Hoseok screamed. “Shut up! Let me do this. Let me have my dream.”

“That’s it, I’m coming over,” Taehyung responded, before hanging up.

Hoseok groaned in agitation. Taehyung would destroy his plans and then he would never be on The Bachelorette and he would be stuck in this dorm forever and forced to watch the same TV that Lexa died on, sleep on the same bed he cried himself to sleep on, use the same remote he threw across the room.

Hoseok shut himself up. All he needed to do was send in the application before Taehyung got here. He almost finished typing his name (it’s hard to type when you’re drunk, okay?) when the little rat burst into his room.

“No!” Hoseok screamed. “I won’t let you!” A tear slipped down his cheek as he hugged his laptop.

“Chill, I’m not going to stop you. Someone needs to film your video application, right?” Taehyung questioned.

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Hoseok looked up at Taehyung like he was Jesus forgiving him of his sins.

“Of course. I brought my best camera,” Taehyung smirked.

With that, Hoseok and Taehyung worked for hours on Hoseok’s application. Taehyung watched the video application back, laughing his ass off for some reason. Hoseok passed out right after clicking the submit button.

Chapter Text

Hoseok woke up with a throbbing in his head and regret in his heart. It was as if someone had grabbed his insides and twisted them around. Drenched in sweat, he sprinted to the bathroom to throw up his soul.

After he concluded his make out session with the toilet, Hoseok tried to recall what stupid shit he did last night. Turns out the list was endless. He lost count when he got to the blurry memory of Taehyung using a lens cap as an eyepatch.

Trying to get dressed to the best of his ability, Hoseok attempted to remember the consequences of going into work with a hangover. When he couldn’t find any worth caring about, he set out for another day of work, trying to resist the urge to get hit by a car. 

Luckily Jimin and Jungkook were already at practice, warming up. He was only half an hour late.

“Where have you been? You look like shit,” Jimin noted.

“Thanks,” said Hoseok, not bringing himself to answer the question. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two boys exchange looks. Angry and tired, he pressed play on their music.

Jimin and Jungkook whipped their heads up, confusion knitted in their gaze.

“Do a run through, three times in a row. With the lifts. Go,” Hoseok ordered, waving his hand and flopping into a chair.

“Three?” Jungkook questioned. 

Hoseok nodded, rolling his eyes. This particular contemporary routine was extremely choreography intense and physically draining. But it was important that they had it down for the upcoming audition.

The first run through was fine. Half way through the second one, however, things started to go down and Jungkook and Jimin became visibly tired. Jungkook’s arms looked like noodles.

“Jungkook, fix your arms, you look like a sad monkey,” Hoseok yelled.

“I don’t we can do the lifts, Hoseok,” Jungkook complained, in between the music replay for the final run through. “My arms feel like dead weights.”

“Don’t care,” Hoseok shrugged. Maybe he was being harsh, but he had a hangover and did not want to be here dealing with bratty teenagers.

By the time they got to the second lift in the third run through, Hoseok could already tell it would fail. Jimin’s form wasn’t correct and Jungkook’s noodle arms gave out. Jimin landed face down, but all of his weight landed on both of his knees.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook breathed.

At first Hoseok thought Jimin was fine. He started to sit up. Then he winced. Jungkook bent down to make sure everything was okay. Then Jimin started screaming.

-

Not having a job wasn’t that bad. Apart from being broke. But at least it gave Hoseok some time to get his life together. Not that he used any of that time accordingly. Apparently, Jimin “severely fractured both of his kneecaps” and it was “Hoseok’s fault for coming into practice with a hangover” and “forcing his students to do something they weren’t physically comfortable with” and now it would take Jimin “months to heal” and he “wouldn’t be able to audition for the company he’s been dreaming about joining since he was 3.” Sure, he felt horrible, but it was over and now he could focus on his business major. Yeah. Business major. Totally.

It was raining outside and Brooklyn was oddly quiet. The only thing that could make this day better was some food.

Almost on cue, Namjoon arrived. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any food and Hoseok refused to get up to make some.

“Can you order take out?” Hoseok asked, sitting up and turning around so that he was facing Namjoon.

“Uh, yeah, but after you read this weird letter you got from some fancy TV company,” Namjoon tossed the white envelope at Hoseok before retreating to his room. He caught it, took one glance at the official looking stamp on it, and immediately regretted his entire life.

This could not be happening. He’d buried that dreadful night deep within his brain, never to be uncovered again. But here it was, in the form of an envelope.

Not only did this bring up bad memories from Lexa, but it brought up bad (and hardly there) memories from the night where he was confronted by Robby and brutally forced to apply for The Bachelorette. (So maybe that’s not what happened, but how was he supposed to remember?) Hoseok had assumed that whoever took the time to read those thousands of applications would have disregarded him as a sad drunk boy with no regards as to what he was doing.

As all these thoughts flew through his mind, Hoseok scoffed at himself for being so stupid. It wasn’t like he was actually going to get in. It wasn’t like this letter was the end-all to everything. There had to be certain stages, ones that Hoseok definitely didn’t sign up for. Worse comes to worst, he’ll politely decline his acceptance.

He took a deep breath before opening the letter. Wiping the sweat from his aching forehead, Hoseok began to slowly rip open the envelope and read.

To whom it may concern,

It is of our delight to inform you that you are among the top 100 eligible bachelors occupying the east coast. Your video application and written submission stood out among thousands of others. Please arrive at 47 W 66th St, New York, NY at 3 PM on June 21st, 2017, for an interview. The interview will be filmed for the possibility that you are to be accepted to The Bachelorette, but will remain confidential until that point. Come dressed in neutral colors and no makeup.

Best of wishes,

      ABC©

Hoseok dropped the letter with a sigh. Should he call to tell whoever sent the letter that he wouldn’t be there? Or should he just stand them up? He should just stand them up.

Hoseok couldn’t help but wonder how the flying fuck he made it that far in the process. He literally didn’t have full control of his body when he applied. He let out a laugh at the irony. He didn’t even want to be on the show, and now he was in the top 100. Why couldn’t this have happened when he entered the lottery?

Then it all clicked. This was practically entering the lottery. He could get paid for trying to fall in love with some random girl. It was a win-win. Actually, it was more of a win-lose because he would have to suffer through the filming process of trying to fall in love with said random girl. But, he would get money, which he was definitely low on.

Hoseok contemplated this life-changing decision for a total of five minutes (which was actually a lot longer than his last contemplation of a life-changing decision). In the end, he didn’t even make a decision. But he was going to the interview. It wasn’t like he would be an actual bachelor on the show. They’d see how awkward he was in real life and he would get declined. At least he would have a funny story to tell his nonexistent friends.

It was settled. Hoseok would take a train to ABC headquarters next week and embarrass himself. What more did he have to lose?

-

It was approximately -4.5 minutes before Hoseok had to leave for his interview. He was hoping he could slip away without Namjoon noticing. He was wrong.

“Why are you leaving with 8 bananas?”

Hoseok whipped around. “In case I get hungry on the way.”

“On the way to what?”

“God, do you need to know every detail about my life?” Hoseok yelled.

Namjoon held his hands up in defense. He began to walk away.

With a sigh, Hoseok stood up straight. “Remember that night after Lexa died?” Namjoon turned around and nodded. “Well, when you forced me to go to a club, I ran into Robby, from The Bachelorette. I was drunk and mourning and he inspired me to send in an application for the show.”

“Oh my god, Hoseok,” the taller facepalmed.

“So then I think Taehyung helped me film a video submission, and I don’t remember much after that, but I swear I didn’t expect to actually get into the top 100 applicants of the east coast, right, because that’s what that fucking letter you handed me last week said, and now they want me to go in for an interview, and at first I was like, no fucking way, but then I thought about it, and like, all that TV money would be really great, and I’m obviously not getting on the show anyway, so then I noticed just now that the showcase is today, and my interview is at 3, so should I risk it and try to squeeze it in? What do I really have to lose, Namjoon? My job? Over. My dignity? Already gone. My only light in this dark world? She died 82 days ago.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, though? It could be a scam.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t go to the interview?” Hoseok asked, breathless after finishing his monologue.

“No, I’m saying you’re probably going to embarrass yourself. But I guess you don’t have anything to lose,” Namjoon shrugged.

“What if this goes on my permanent record,” Hoseok realized.

Namjoon sighed. “Look. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. Just do it.”

Before that talk turned into a Shia Labeouf meme, Hoseok ran out door and began his trek to ABC headquarters.

-

Hoseok got off the subway at 2:58. He still had 3 bananas left. Luckily, the place was right in front of him, and it was huge, bustling with activity. Hoseok felt overwhelmed, mostly because the place screamed ‘important’ and he’d probably get thrown out if he stepped foot in there.

He stared at himself in the reflection of the door. He’d followed the directions, wearing all black with simple white converse and no makeup. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind his orange hair.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and approached a big desk surrounded by a tall ceiling and marble floors.

He peered over the tall mahogany.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, yes, I’m here for an interview?” Hoseok stuttered.

“Name?”

“Jung Hoseok.”

“Becky will be right with you.” She responded, not looking up from her computer once.

Nodding, Hoseok awkwardly shuffled to the side. He glanced at the potted plant across the room. He could have sworn he saw something duck behind it.

Someone, presumably Becky, drags his eyes away from the potted plant.

“Jung Hoseok?"

Hoseok turned around, nodding.

"We're ready for you. Follow me," Becky said, walking down the hallway, her heels clicking. They took about 12 different turns and 15 elevators before they arrived at the correct room.

"Go right on in," Becky said, smiling. Hoseok stepped into the room. It was relatively small, drab and boring, with a desk on the far-right wall and a window overlooking the city. A large potted plant stood to the right of the desk. Even larger was the video camera, set up on a tripod and facing the desk. A boy with bleached hair seemed to be operating it.

The women sitting at the desk stood up as Becky left. She looked very official.

"Good afternoon, I am Marie Pamplemousse, casting director for The Bachelorette and The Bachelor. Please sit down," she ushered him to a sad looking plastic chair.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, it shouldn't take too long," she sighed. She seemed tired. Good thing the interview would be short.

"So, I'll have you start off by saying your name, age, hometown, and occupation," she said, holding a clipboard.

"Uh, my name is Jung Hoseok, I'm 22, from Brooklyn, and I'm currently in college studying business, and I used to have a part time job as a dance teacher for the National Dance Institute in New York. But it just… didn’t work with my schedule, so I recently… took a break." Hopefully Mrs. Pamplemousse couldn’t sense that Hoseok was lying.

"Interesting. Now, you answered this question in your video submission already, but we'd like to know again: Why do you want to be on The Bachelorette?"

Hoseok paused, thinking. "New opportunities? I guess?"

"On your video submission you said, and I quote, 'to escape this hell that is the death of so many underrepresented TV show characters like Lexa, from The 100, who deserved better.'"

The camera man snorted, earning a glare from Mrs. Pamplemousse.

Hoseok laughed nervously. God, had he really said that? He should not have come here.

"Well, it's true," Hoseok decided to fuck it. "Groups such as LGBT and POC get horrible representation on fictional shows and movies. They always die. I decided to boycott shows like that and support reality TV instead."

Hoseok couldn't believe what had just came out of his mouth. Mrs. Pamplemousse seemed to like it, she was smiling. The camera man still looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Excellent. Next question: If you were put into a box, and had no way to get out, and it kept getting smaller and smaller, what would you do?"

Hoseok was taken aback. What kind of question was that? This was a reality show, not a Google internship.

He thought for a moment. Namjoon would be good at answering this question. What would he say? He would say some fancy math equation resulting in an escape. Or he would turn into a valence electron and teleport to an orbit of an atom that was outside the box. But that wasn't what Hoseok would say.

"Uh, I would say my last dying words and hope that my death is quick."

 Mrs. Pamplemousse widened her eyes. She quickly scribbled something on her clipboard. Hoseok looked at the clock. It was quarter to four. Where had the time gone?

Mrs. Pamplemousse sighed for the seventieth time. "This is your last question: What do you want to do after The Bachelorette?"

Hoseok contemplated this. Assuming he won, he would settle down with someone and live a good, long, life. If he lost, he would probably just go back to college with his tail between his legs and beg forgiveness. (He didn't have a tail; he wasn't a furry). What a stupid question this was. More stupid than the box question.

"Well I don't know," he said.

Mrs. Pamplemousse suddenly did not look bored anymore. "Go on," she said.

"Isn't the point of deciding to go on a reality show like The Bachelorette about being spontaneous? You're moving away from everything you know in the hopes of finding love in a group of strangers. You don't even know if you'll like the girl. She could be a total asshole. Then what? You go back home with nothing but some money and a story to tell. The only difference between you and the girl and every other relationship is that yours was broadcasted to the entire world. There are no private moments. You're putting your love life out there to everyone. Your thoughts, emotions, and fights will be for everyone to see. If you don't like the girl you just go back home. If you do, and she doesn't pick you, you get heartbroken. Or you end up together. Shouldn't we be focusing on what happens now? Live in the moment? Hope for the best? Why would I answer a question like that when there are three possible outcomes? Why does it matter what happens after? Why am I even here right now? Why are we here right now? Why do we exist?"

Hoseok applauded himself at his A+ word vomit.

Mrs. Pamplemousse didn't say anything for a good 3 minutes. She didn't write anything else on her clipboard.

She stood up. "Very well, Jung Hoseok. We'll be contacting you shortly, Becky will be in shortly with some paperwork and you should get a phone call within the next few weeks. Have a nice day," she said, walking out of the room.

The camera man was just standing there, staring at him. He pressed some buttons on his fancy technology camera work. Hoseok was surprised he could even reach the camera, he was pretty short. He began to pack up the equipment.

He took a breath like he was going to say something, then changed him mind and walked out.

Becky came in with the paperwork. It seemed to take 97 years. Mostly just stupid stuff about confidentiality and money and blah blah blah. He didn’t even read all of it.

-

A long 3 hours of preparing for final exams came and went, Hoseok failing every single one of them. Maybe he should have worried more about how he was going to pay for his next year of college without a scholarship. He seemed to be full of destructive decisions lately.

The reality of what he had done hit him like a truck 3 weeks later when he received his exam grades.

First, you get drunk and go into work with a hangover. Then, you ruin your student’s career. Then you lose your job. You fail all your exams. You lose your scholarship. Now you can’t pay rent. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Hoseok could do nothing but stare at the ceiling for the next day. Namjoon was gone visiting family, thank god. How was he going to tell him that he couldn’t pay rent? That he had to move out?

He reached for his phone to text Taehyung. Then he realized he had a missed call from Namjoon. Reluctantly he pressed play.

“Hoseok. I know you lost your job. And I know you lost your scholarship. But rent is overdue, and I can’t afford to pay the whole thing forever. I can do it for a little while until you find a job. Have you even looked for a new job? You can’t stay in bed all day. Anyways, we can talk about this later. See you in a few days.”

Letting out a sigh, Hoseok dropped his phone and went to sleep. Sometimes it was like Namjoon was a creepy sorcerer who’d been reincarnated 12 times and could read people’s minds.

He woke up when his phone let out a loud, tinny, and fucking annoying ring. Groaning, Hoseok sat up. The call was from an unknown number. It was odd someone was calling him at this time. It was probably those people from Boston who Phil gave the wrong number to. Seriously, fuck you Phil, whoever you are.

“This isn’t fucking Phil,” He answered groggily.

“Hello? Jung Hoseok? Is that you?” A women’s voice asked. It sounded familiar but Hoseok couldn’t put a finger on where he’d heard it before.

“Yes?”

“This is Mrs. Pamplemousse. From your interview.”

Oh. Hoseok had been so caught up in ruining his life that he had completely forgotten about The Bachelorette.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. He was ready to face rejection.

“We’ve thoroughly gone over your application…” Mrs. Pamplemousse paused for dramatic effect. Hoseok rolled his eyes. Just get to the point.

“We’ve decided you aren’t a good fit for The Bachelorette,” she finished.

“Haha, oh well, the experience was fun and whatever,” Hoseok just wanted to go back to sleep.

Mrs. Pamplemousse interrupted him. “However.”

Jesus Christ. Now what did she want?

“The male contestant for The Bachelor has recently dropped out and we need a replacement. We thought you’d be a good fit,” Mrs. Pamplemousse said nonchalantly.

Wait. This was not part of Hoseok’s list of possible scenarios. It had to be joke.

After a few moments of silence, Mrs. Pamplemousse started running her mouth again. “I know for you, The Bachelorette and The Bachelor could have two completely different outcomes, but we just felt like you were the best choice for the position. I understand if you need some time to decide, but – “

“I’ll do it,” Hoseok decided.

“Oh! Alright then. Well, if you’re sure, filming starts in one month so you’ll have to fly out soon. We’ll have you come back to the office on Thursday at 5 pm to discuss the details and fill out some more paperwork.”

“I’ll be there,” Hoseok declared.

“Great! Good luck, Hoseok,” Mrs. Pamplemousse finished before hanging up.

Letting out a sigh, Hoseok wondered what the fuck had just happened.

So now he was going on The Bachelor. It should’ve felt good. He just solved all his money problems. Instead it felt like he just signed his death certificate. He wondered if he would really fall in love with any of the girls. Maybe he could fake a marriage.

Nothing seemed real. He wasn’t actually going on a reality show. He wasn’t actually flying to Los Angelos in under a week.

He let himself believe these statements and do what Hoseok did best. Go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Hoseok never saw himself as a spontaneous person. But when he was standing outside the John F. Kennedy International Airport ready to board a flight to Hollywood, the reality of it all sunk in. He did it. Hoseok dropped out of college to be on a reality TV show. He’d met with Mrs. Pamplemousse the previous week to fill out more pointless paper work. Now he was flying to Hollywood to try and fall in love with some girl. 

Thank god Bob Ewall or whatever his name was couldn’t film The Bachelor because he had some life-threatening illness. Mrs. Pamplemousse described her decision to put Hoseok in as the male contestant for The Bachelor as, “a feat too problematic to put you on The Bachelorette and risk the expulsion of such a strange, yet compelling contestant to bring in the ratings.” Basically, she thought he was a good TV character. He would never understand why.  

Maybe it was a reckless decision, but he was broke, without a job, and would have been kicked out of college anyway. Namjoon supported him. That was saying a lot. 

Hoseok slept through the entire six-hour flight, taking advantage of the nice chairs that business class held. It was a shame that the flight attendant had to be the one to wake him up to tell him he was now in Los Angeles, the place where Hoseok’s life’s turning point would dramatically take place. 

This is the part where a new reality show character would normally start describing how different Los Angeles was compared to their sad farm home in the middle of Nebraska, but the only thing that was out of the ordinary for Hoseok compared to New York was the heat. 

Hoseok and his driver boarded a fucking limo, then he would be driven to Agoura Hills, according to Mrs. Pamplemousse. There, for the next two weeks, he would live and film in an extension home built off from “Ville de la Vina,” or the 7,590-square foot mansion where his twenty-five girlfriends would live. The final third of the episodes in this season would be filmed traveling the world. 

No one bothered to tell Hoseok that this built off home was the embodiment of high class. It was fancier than Louis XIV of France’s stupid wig. The refrigerator was fancier than his entire fucking kitchen, and the chandelier was just plain unnecessary. 

He decided to take advantage of it and use everything in the room at least once before meeting The Director™ of The Bachelor in an hour. He turned all the faucets and listened to them run for seven minutes, all while repeating the leading cause of drought in California is animal agriculture several times in his head. 

The director, Brett RegalStar, had requested Hoseok meet him at the studio so he could “give him the talk.” Hoseok assumed that this “talk” had nothing to do with sex. It was probably some mandatory meeting where Brett RegalStar explained how reality TV worked to a poor and innocent country boy from Kentucky like himself. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too morbid. 

- 

Apparently, he was right because Brett RegalStar, with his fancy country style beard, was sitting on a couch in a blank room looking like a parent ready to taint their child’s mind. 

The look on his face was hard to read, kind of like the street signs in Hollywood. Luckily, Hoseok was forced to ride a limo instead of just walking like usual. Headquarters was near his hotel, but apparently, they’d be filming in a variety of locations throughout the course of the show.

“Hoseok, come in,” said Brett RegalStar. Hoseok walked in and awkwardly sat down on the sad-looking red chair across from Brett RegalStar, 

“How are you today?” said Brett RegalStar. 

“I’m well,” replied Hoseok. 

They sat in pregnant silence for what felt like minutes. 

“Anyways, I’m going to just be giving you a run-down of what reality TV will be like for you,” Brett RegalStar said. Hoseok wanted to reach out and stroke his beard but he settled for nodding. 

“So, as you know, The Bachelor will involve you mingling with twenty-five other females,” Brett RegalStar spoke nonchalantly as if he had done this twenty times. Oh wait. He has. 

“Many think The Bachelor is scripted, and it’s all a lie. Well, believe it or not, you do actually get to choose who you marry. Your interactions with your date will remain unchanged, meaning we won’t change around the clips to make it seem like one said something they didn’t—most of the time.” 

“Alright,” Hoseok agreed. 

“You’ll have a vague script, but most clips will be real interactions. The myth that reality TV is all a lie doesn’t apply 100% to this show,” Brett RegalStar sighed. “And you’ve probably already watched The Bachelor, so you know how it works, but I’ll tell you anyway.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Hoseok lied. 

“The first episode will consist of a group date. You and the twenty-five girls will have approximately five minutes each with each other on the patio by the pool, then you will have a cocktail party here at the house and that day, you’ll hand out one to three first impression roses and eliminate five girls.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Hoseok tried to make a joke. Brett RegalStar didn’t laugh. 

“The following week, you’ll go on ten dates with two women. At the end of each date, you’ll give one a rose. The one who does not receive a rose will be eliminated immediately. You don’t have to eliminate a girl at the end of a date, and you don’t have to eliminate one of the two. The choice is yours.” 

Hoseok nodded, trying not to let fear seep through his man-like expression. 

“Then, you’ll pack your things and we’ll fly around the world for the rest of the dates, which will all be one-on-one. The locations of these dates will be revealed a few days before you leave,” Brett RegalStar paused to stroke his masculine beard. “Keep in mind that a girl who has been eliminated may plead for reentry later in the season. You can decline or accept this. At the end of the season, you will get to choose whether or not you want to marry one of the two girls or go into a relationship with one of them. On the rare occasion you don’t want to do either of these things, well, you don’t have to. However,” 

Oh no. 

“Your relationships on The Bachelor will remain strictly between the twenty-five female contestants, understand?” 

Hoseok nodded for the twelfth time. 

“You may think having a relationship on the side with some other women will provide a plot twist for the show. It doesn’t. It just makes you look like an asshole. And then we lose ratings. You know the reason we don’t care how bad the women on The Bachelor or the men on The Bachelorette look? It’s because that’s what keeps people watching. They only care about the best girl getting the best man. And if they don’t like the bachelor himself? People don’t want him to end up happy and they don’t care about the outcome. Then they stop watching. You think that having an affair will make you liked?” Brett RegalStar lectured. “And don’t think you can hide it from us. We’ll find out and make sure you don’t see her again for a very long time. You already saw this information while doing paperwork, but it is important we reinforce it. Understand?” 

Hoseok nodded again.  

“Very well. You can go now. Filming starts in three days, as you know, so I’ll see you then,” Brett RegalStar held out his hand to shake. 

“Yes sir,” Hoseok agreed, giving it a firm shake. 

And with that, Hoseok left the room feeling like that ‘talk’ had been completely pointless. The last time he had talked to girl had been before Lexa. How the hell would he somehow find another woman when he was busy with twenty-five others? 

When he fell asleep that night, Hoseok realized that he missed Mrs. Pamplemousse. He missed her vacant stares and her probably-staged-faith in him. But, he figured, being here was better than living out a business major and finding another decent-paying job back in New York. 

- 

After he walked into the building three days later from his limousine (which he would never get used to), Brett RegalStar immediately walked up to him and started dragging him down the hallway way faster than was necessary. He started blabbing his mouth about all the people he’d be dating and how filming clips would work. 

First, he’d have to go into a green room and talk awkwardly to the camera about what he expected. Then he had to go on an actual date. Then, after that, he had to go back into the greenroom, and give his thoughts on the date. Finally, if it was needed, Hoseok had to film reaction clips in the car if something particularly interesting happened. It all seemed completely unnecessary, but he didn’t question it. 

“Min Yoongi!” Brett RegalStar suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs once they reached the main green room. 

This supposed ‘Min Yoongi’ came running to Brett RegalStar like a dog to its owner. 

“Yes sir?” He asked. 

“Make sure Jonathan is doing his god damn job. He’s over there drinking coffee,” Brett RegalStar sounded very annoyed. “We’re going to start filming Hoseok’s clips in about ten minutes.” Min Yoongi nodded, rushing back to what Hoseok assumed was his camera. 

There was something familiar about him. Then he realized that Min Yoongi was the same person who filmed his interview with Mrs. Pamplemousse, but with black hair instead of blonde. It was strange that they made him fly all the way to New York just to film interviews. Reality TV was weird. 

Brett RegalStar explained some more about how the twenty-five girls were in different rooms filming their own clips. Then he told Hoseok to sit in the strangely centered black stool in the middle of the green screen. 

“Okay Hoseok, now you’re going to introduce yourself just like how you did in the interview. Got it?” 

As if Hoseok remembered exactly what he said in his interview. He flashed a thumbs up anyway. 

Brett RegalStar turned on his director voice, which was even more director-y than earlier that day. “3, 2, 1, and… Action.” 

Hoseok made sure to look directly to the main camera, operated by Min Yoongi. “Uh, hi, I’m– “ 

“Cut!” Brett RegalStar bellowed. “No ‘uh’s,’ Hoseok.” 

Fair enough. Hoseok tried it again, but Brett RegalStar stopped him about nine times to tell him that his sentences weren’t ‘flowy enough’ and that he was ‘being vague about his job.’ 

Hoseok was getting fed up, so he tried extra hard this time. He flashed his brightest smile and said, “My name is Jung Hoseok, I'm twenty-two, from Brooklyn, and I used to have a part time job as a dance teacher for the National Dance Institute in New York but I got fired because I was indirectly responsible for the shattering of my student’s kneecaps.” Hoseok still smiled. 

He saw Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow, but Brett RegalStar only beamed, “Perfect!” He announced. 

- 

The next hour consisted of Hoseok filming these stupid side clips. The rest of the girls had filmed theirs separately. 

Then, he had to get dressed in a suit because they were filming the cocktail party at 5 pm. He didn’t really understand why it took three hours to do this, but apparently his stylists did. They kept rambling about his bad eyebrows. 

 Finally, Hoseok was led to a large hall, with marble floors and a red carpet. The ceiling was high, and a huge elaborate chandelier hung from the center. Hoseok almost didn’t notice the twenty-five females standing in a row, all dressed in fancy gowns or the cameras filming his every step. 

What really took him aback, however, was the middle-aged man standing on a podium behind said twenty-five females. 

“Damn,” Hoseok muttered. In reference to the females, of course, not the middle-aged man. 

Suddenly, said crusty middle aged man started to bellow. “Jung Hoseok! Welcome: To your destiny, to your new life, to your dreams. Welcome– To The Bachelor.” 

“Chris HarrySon, that was perfect!” Brett RegalStar echoed. He turned to the cast and crew, and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll edit that down to make it less awkward.” 

Brett RegalStar continued to yell. “Okay everyone, head to the pool.” 

That was a fast introduction, Hoseok thought. 

When everyone finally got to the fancy outside porch thing, which was surrounded by an outdoor pool bigger than his entire apartment, the host, Chris HarrySon, was already blabbing to the camera shit about the show in a fancy voice. 

“Here,” he said, “Is the place where it all begins. Few lucky ladies will receive hope in the form of a rose– and some will go home.” Chris HarrySon made a very hard-to-believe sad face. “Good luck to all.” 

Hoseok rolled his eyes. Why did he sign up for this? Finally, Chris HarrySon finished the introduction. 

Brett RegalStar started yelling again. “Good job everyone. Ladies, get into your respective limos.” 

Hoseok didn’t know what the fuck he meant by limos. Nonetheless, the twenty-five girls all walked behind him and each got into their own fancy oversized cars, all parked behind the pool in a long driveway that Hoseok somehow didn’t notice. 

Brett RegalStar leaned in to explain what the fuck was going on. “They’ll drive away and then come back one at a time to meet you.” 

Hoseok nodded in understanding. 

Brett RegalStar started to blab his mouth again. “Are you ready?” 

Hoseok straightened his tie. “Yes.” 

They waited for all the limos to leave, until Brett RegalStar pulled out a phone and told Driver 25 to approach the house. 

When Hoseok could hear the tires crunching the stone on the driveway, Brett RegalStar let out an ominous “Action.” 

Suddenly, Hoseok was the only one on the stone flooring of the fancy outdoor porch thing and all he saw was a sleek, black limo pull up around the corner carrying his potential wife. 

- 

Hoseok zoned out after the fifth one, each awkward conversation getting more and more uncomfortable every time. All the girls were the same to him, their annoying laughs seeming to cram atrocious amounts of tension into Hoseok's tiny brain. 

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he would even like any of the girls, an angel saved him from his impending doom. 

She was probably the most gorgeous human Hoseok had ever seen. Her porcelain skin shined under the flames of the patio lanterns, and the perfect slope of her nose could make any person jealous. Her shiny, luscious blonde hair cleared Hoseok's acne; and when she smiled, there was a 97% chance that she cured 12 types of diseases. 

She was a kind person, but despite her looks, there wasn't one thing that particularly stood out about her. Brett RegalStar had told him to keep this in mind when it came time to choose who to give the first impression rose to, which is why they didn’t provide a vague script for the segment of first impressions. 

Hoseok figured this was why all the girls were acting the same. They were probably nervous, trying to fit themselves into a box to seem perfect around Hoseok. He was hoping some would come out of their shells before they went on dates, so that those occasions were not nearly as painful as the ones now. 

Chaerin, however, seemed to have a way with words. When Hoseok stuttered, she picked up the conversation with a bright laugh and a light-hearted joke. She definitely stood out amongst the other girls. 

But that was when Brett RegalStar swam into view. 

"Cut!" The burly man bellowed. "Chaerin, I don't want you to say that." 

"Why not? I was joking," the blonde explained. 

Hoseok was annoyed, but he understood why BrettRegalstar did what he did. Hoseok was sure Chaerin's political joke would not be appreciated by the viewers of The Bachelor, 75% of which were from the south. 

Maybe BrettRegal star didn't like her joke either, because he kept making hand motions towards Chaerin to speed up the conversation. 

Inwardly, Hoseok scoffed. The one girl Hoseok had liked the most so far was already disliked by the crew. 

He thought that after Chaerin left, the rest of the girls would seem dull. And he was right, except for a few. Lisa was pretty cool. So was Amber. And a few others that Hoseok forgot the names of. 

After the final girl left in her fancy limo to drive to her temporary home literally 4 feet away from where they were previously conversing, (seriously, why was the limo necessary), Hoseok was informed that he was to pick who to give his first impression rose(s) to. 

Obviously, he chose Chaerin, much to Brett RegalStar's disappointment. He tried to pressure him into choosing Taeyeon, which kind of reminded him of his dad telling him to go into the medical field. Maybe he should have listened to both of them. 

Of course, he didn't, so there he was, handing Chaerin the maroon plant uterus, watching a smile light up her face, and a frown loom over the director's in the corner. 

- 

“You’ve probably already seen him around,” said Brett RegalStar the following morning. He motioned to Yoongi, the cameraman who’d filmed his interview, to come over. 

“This is Min Yoongi. He’s our lead camera man, so he’ll be the only one filming most of your dates for the season. You’ll be seeing a lot of him,” Brett RegalStar explained. 

Hoseok held out his hand once Yoongi approached, his black hair falling in front of his eyes. After the firm shake, Brett RegalStar ushered them all into a van (because limos were so last episode.) 

They began their long trek to a restaurant for the first of Hoseok’s ten dates that he was not looking forward to. Brett RegalStar said that filming each date took approximately three hours, so they’d to have film two dates per day. Of course, any normal dinner date would only take an hour and a half, but since Hoseok had obviously discovered Brett RegalStar had lied about The Bachelor not being scripted, it would take a lot longer to get all the clips that would satisfy the little butt plug. 

Hoseok tried to make conversation with Yoongi, since they were squished up next to each other in the back of the van along with the rest of the crew and all their expensive camera gear, but he kept getting shut down with one word answers. 

“How long have you been filming for The Bachelor?” 

“Too long.” 

“Why do big cameras work better?” 

“Google it.” 

Hoseok took his word for it and turned to gaze out the window. He had almost forgot that it didn’t rain in California, or at least it was very rare. 

Hoseok looked at the clock. They still had another half hour before they got to the venue, and the dense LA traffic didn’t help with their commute. 

As he drifted off into thought, Hoseok couldn’t help but remember his interview in New York, the one Yoongi filmed. Hoseok didn’t remember anything important, so of course he recalled the pointless moment when the then-bleached-haired boy began to say something to him and then walked away. 

Hoseok assumed that Yoongi didn’t want to be bothered anymore, so he didn’t ask. That didn’t last long, because his curiosity got the best of him. 

“Hey,” Hoseok started. He could have sworn he saw Yoongi’s eyes roll back. 

“Remember when you filmed my interview?” 

Yoongi didn’t respond, but he gave him his attention, a bored look across his face. 

“And you looked like you were going to tell me something. Then you walked away,” Hoseok pondered. 

For a split second, Yoongi’s expression turned dark, his brown eyes losing absolutely all light. It was gone as soon as it came, and he returned his attention to his phone. 

“It’s not important,” the male responded blandly. 

“Woah, it totally is, I saw your face just then,” Hoseok pushed. 

Yoongi stalled. “I was just going to talk about… your hair.” 

“Yeah fucking right.” 

Yoongi didn’t respond for a good twenty minutes, only speaking again when Hoseok persisted with his pointless mission. 

“Just tell me.’ Hoseok tried again. 

“I did tell you, I said it wasn’t important.” 

“Well it must be important if you remember what it is.” Hoseok was distracted when the van pulled into the venue parking lot. 

“Hurry up, I’m going to be curious for the next thirty-seven hours of filming and I won’t be able to concentrate and it will be all your fault,” Hoseok said playfully. 

Yoongi let out a long breath through his nose, obviously done with Hoseok’s shit. He started grabbing his equipment hurriedly, getting out of the van. Hoseok thought he was going to leave him empty handed, but before he shut the door, he finally began to talk.  

“You said you worked for the National Dance Institute in New York. I was going ask if you knew my brother, Park Jimin. But after spending half my vacation in the emergency room, I figured that obviously, you did.” 

With that, he slammed the door in Hoseok’s face.

Chapter Text

Hoseok doesn’t remember the slamming of the van door in his face, the cold metal knocking his heart unconscious. He doesn’t remember his director’s beard. He doesn’t remember Namjoon’s intense gaze or Mrs. Pamplemousse’s warm smile. All he knows now is the freezing dead of night, the wind on his back, the wet breeze through his peach hair.

It’s been three days since it happened. The zombie apocalypse hit like a tsunami. Unexpected and greatly feared.

It started with a boom. There was an explosion in some secret facility dedicated to researching diseases. Apparently, there was an illegal chemical that ravished on the entirety of Northern California, and now the mutated victims of the bomb were heading south, spreading their virus throughout the country at a percentage of the speed of light. Or, at least, that’s what Hoseok has heard.

It happened shortly after the first episode filming was called off for the day. They tried to film the dates, they really had. But Hoseok wasn’t focused, his mind still set on his confrontation earlier that day. How small and insignificant that problem seemed now.

He didn’t click with the girls, and each date becoming more awkward each passing moment. Eventually, Brett RegalStar got fed up and told everyone to pack up and go home, they would refilm tomorrow. “I need to hire a new casting director,” Hoseok heard him mutter.

It was sunset by the time they got in the van. Yoongi stared at Hoseok almost apologetically on the ride to the house. Everything was normal. Sad, but normal.

Until they decided to take a ride downtown.

As soon as they were in range of signal, the restaurant being far in the country side, the radio turned on. An alarm blared. A robotic voice turned on telling everyone to turn back. Then all Hoseok saw in the streets was a sea of mutilated bodies, too disfigured to be alive. One had red bumps all over its face. Another was missing an arm. Next thing he knew the van was bombarded. Luckily, he was sitting in the back so he and Yoongi escaped, shortly Hoseok heard the driver scream. He doesn’t remember much more after that.

He and Yoongi managed to run far enough away to find an escape bus, filled with scared non-zombies just like the two of them. The bus took them deep all the way down to the coast, but from there they had to fend for themselves.

Now he lives wherever they can find food. Yoongi suggests they travel back north, along the coast assuming the zombies have all spread out in opposite directions. Hoseok disagrees, doubting their directional abilities. So here they sit, by themselves on the beach, eating tacos from an abandoned food truck. The sun is setting, their only source of light sinking into the giant pool of salt, the ocean almost as salty as the taco Hoseok was eating.

Yoongi sighed, gazing out at the sea. Hoseok looked over at him, the pink light of the setting sun dancing across his face. “I forgive you for breaking my brother’s kneecaps,” he says softly.

Before Hoseok could respond, there’s a rustling in the grass behind them.

They whip around. The last few days have made them highly alert. It could just be nothing, but they could never be too careful.

Yoongi turns around. “It’s just a bird.”

“No it’s fucking not,” yells Hoseok, standing up.

The zombie girl is covered in red bumps, probably from radiation from the explosion. She looks like one of the originals. Surprisingly, there is only one. That was good, since Yoongi and Hoseok let the other members of their group do all the fighting for the last three days. That is, before they all died. This was the first zombie Yoongi and Hoseok would have to face on their own.

Yoongi swears, scrambling to get the gun that he took from a dead body that was minutes away from coming back alive.

The zombie precedes to walk forward. Hoseok is so stunned he falls over as he steps backwards. The zombie grabbs his leg with an iron grip. He isn’t quick enough.

“Not today, bitch,” Hoseok decides, reaching for her wrist and throwing a punch at her face, careful to keep her mouth away from him. But zombies are stronger than they look, and they end up in a full on tussle, Hoseok with no fighting experience whatsoever.

“Yoongi, shoot!” he cries right before the zombie snags his hair. Hoseok looks up and Yoongi is standing there, trying to figure out how to shoot a gun.

“I’ve never done this before,” Yoongi yells, as if Hoseok fucking cares. He’s fist fighting a fucking zombie.

Now the zombie has sent them both spinning into the ground, Hoseok still holding her head far away from him.

He doesn’t really know what goes wrong. He guesses it was a mixture of Yoongi’s horrible aim and the zombie who isn’t standing still but Hoseok hears the gun go off, and his relief only lasts a split second because the next thing he knows is that all he sees is red.

“Fuck fuck fuck, no, no, fuck no-“ Yoongi screams, another shot goes off, hitting the zombie. She finally lets go of Hoseok’s limp body.

Hoseok’s entire world is spinning. He sees Yoongi over him, trying to stop the bleeding, but it’s no use. There’s too much blood, even Hoseok knows that.

“You shot me accidentally,” Hoseok mutters.

“No, no you’re not going to die, fuck oh my god oh my god I’m so sorry,” Yoongi tries to speak but his voice is even more shaky than Hoseok, who has a bullet lodged in his lung.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he smiles, thinking about how he accidentally broke Jimin’s kneecaps. Unfortunately that’s the last thing Hoseok thinks about before all the red fades to black.