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Yoongi awoke to the bed vibrating, the noise Hoseok’s alarm was making under the pillow an annoying buzz. His eyes popped open, fixing to glare at the pillow, but his boyfriend lay sleeping beside him, one hand inside his boxers, just like every morning, and he couldn't find it in himself to be angry.
“You’re a pervert even when you’re sleeping,” Yoongi said, reaching for the stupid device and switching it to the off position because why had Hoseok even set an alarm on a Saturday? Sometimes he thought his dongsaeng was deliberately trying to annoy him. Yoongi rolled his eyes and scooted closer to him, placing a gentle peck on the curve of his cheekbone. And another against his jaw.
Hoseok’s eyes cracked open just slightly. He almost never opened them since it wasn’t like he actually got any use out of them besides making Yoongi a little dizzy (and that was a well-kept secret). Hoseok knew they didn’t look normal; that they bore a pale, almost milky color, but Yoongi thought unusual things were pretty, always had. He made a low, appreciative noise before they snapped shut again and Hoseok pulled the blond to straddle him with a sleepy smile. He lazily began signing good morning but Yoongi caught his hand by the wrist and planted a kiss on his palm. Encouraged by the pretty heart shaped grin, he slid his hands over the tanned expanse of Hoseok’s dancer’s body. Ordinarily, someone as pretty as Jung Hoseok would be fixated on the fairness of his complexion, but he was so shamelessly dark after long days in the sun, the differences between their skin tones striking when they touched in any way.
Hoseok was deaf-blind, but so completely comfortable with who he was and what he liked, and that was why, when Yoongi had uncomfortably gone to his roommate Jeongguk’s performance at a college for the blind and deaf, he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away during the performance of a certain dancer. Maybe it was the confidence he’d exuded like a signature fragrance, or the way his body moved with such precision and purpose to music he could only feel in his feet. Hoseok’s passion for music had lit a fire in Yoongi’s chest that day and he’d vowed to get to know him.
Now, his thighs straddling Hoseok’s waist, the feeling of warm hands cupping his ass, Yoongi was assured they knew each other pretty damn well by now.
Hoseok pulled Yoongi down to nip at his bottom lip, his hand coming up to the older boy’s pale throat to catch the vibration of the groan he knew Yoongi always made when he did something like that—never restricting airflow unless it was an agreed-upon term during sex, which they had a lot lot lot of. Sometimes, in the throes of passion, Hoseok's hand would would curl softly around Yoongi's windpipe to catch every little sound he made, not needing to actually hear them, but going crazy from the knowledge that what he was doing was the reason for them.
The older, smaller young man had become more vocal since they'd gotten together. Hoseok was a pervert, after all, and who was Yoongi to deny him?
Hoseok’s intervenor Seokjin didn’t come on Saturdays or Sundays, but if Yoongi wasn’t completely eager to help his boyfriend out at times, he wouldn’t have invited him to move in with him in the first place. Besides cooking, the obsidian-haired man could reasonably do anything in the house. He could easily find his way to the bathroom to take a shower, and could differentiate the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash by smell alone. Once out, he could easily pick an outfit he liked. His closet being arranged so that the light shirts were on one side and the dark shirts were on the other made his task that much easier. He focused on fabric that felt good against his skin, his silk shirts being some of Yoongi’s favorites to be pressed against. (Also, to Yoongi’s ‘dismay’, he’d recently gotten into black leather pants.) He could make toaster waffles and pour himself some orange juice with minimum spilling, but he had a healthy appetite and either Seokjin or Yoongi could always be persuaded to cook him something with a little more substance.
Today was different though, and when Yoongi finally forced himself out of the warmth of the shower and padded into the kitchen, there was a bowl of cheerios in front of an empty chair, Hoseok pausing from devouring his own to sign a greeting to him.
I MADE BREAKFAST, HYUNG.
A smile tugged at Yoongi’s lips. Even in their western-style apartment, hardwood floors were a must so Hoseok could feel him coming. He’d said once that it felt good knowing when someone entered and exited a room. Made him feel more independent. The blond touched his boyfriend’s elbow to get his attention, the latter reaching to cup his hands around Yoongi’s as he signed. Being both blind and deaf meant twice the hurdles, so, even though he understood sign language, he was unable to see it so he needed to be touching the person’s hands. With effort, he could track the movements with his fingers and palm until he understood.
LOOKS AMAZING, Yoongi signed. I’LL EAT IT WELL.
Tactile sign language was how they communicated mostly, only resorting to fingerspelling (literally spelling out hangul on one-another’s palms) very early in the morning or late at night, when Yoongi was too sleepy to want to open his eyes.
Hoseok snickered. CALM DOWN, IT’S JUST CEREAL.
STILL, IT’S NOT OFTEN YOU MAKE ME BREAKFAST. THANK YOU.
Hoseok grinned and went back to eating his cereal. Yoongi didn’t dare tell Hoseok he forgot to get him a spoon. Hell, he was so proud of himself for making breakfast, even if he made light of it. And Yoongi was proud of him too. Call him sentimental, but his heart ached a little whenever Hoseok did things like this. Yoongi felt spoiled.
Every morning they walked their dogs, Mickey and Holly. Hoseok’s dog mickey was probably one of the smallest service dogs Yoongi had ever seen, but she did her job well, guiding him, nipping softly at his ankle before any terrain irregularities, stopping firmly before traffic until it was safe to go. And Holly? Well, she was just cute. Yoongi wasn’t a dog person but his Min Holly was the perfect pet. The two pups got along so well it was like they were destined to live together.
At the supermarket, Hoseok practically glued himself to Yoongi’s side, signing random thoughts that popped into his head, as well as things they needed at home. Yoongi got some things to get them through the next week, ignoring the blatant stares of passers-by. At first he’d been inclined to explain Hoseok’s situation to them, but now it seemed more like an excuse for their proximity, when in reality, Yoongi wanted Hoseok close because he cared about him. Sometimes, when people bothered to ask, Yoongi would politely direct them to finger-spell with Hoseok, who usually had them charmed almost right away.
People stared at them on the subway too, as the groceries sat in a few bags at their feet, and Hoseok had Yoongi practically pinned against the wall, his hands coming up to touch Yoongi’s lips, his cheekbones, his forehead. The older sighed.
YOU’RE PRETTY, Hoseok signed, combing his hand through pale strands much too intimately for a public place. He crowded Yoongi, coming in close to mouth at his neck. Yoongi pulled at Hoseok’s hands, signing into them.
WE’RE IN PUBLIC. STOP IT.
Hoseok just grinned.
Hoseok practiced dancing in the living room as Yoongi worked on composing a track with heavy percussion and a deep, trance-like sound. Hoseok was already a fan, as he’d said several times over, but Yoongi wasn’t ready to share the lyrics quite yet.
Because he was kind of a lost cause when it came to matters of the heart, and when he fell, he fell hard.
Still, it was beautiful watching Hoseok feel the blasting music, a slow smile stretching the cupid’s bow of his lips, intuitively swaying hips in a way that forced Yoongi to tear his eyes away from his computer screen. Fuck, he loved Jung Hoseok so much that it hurt.
When his phone rang, Yoongi swore that the caller was dead meat. Until he saw that it was Hoseok’s friend Jimin, who, admittedly, was growing on him (and not only because his brother Jeongguk was crushing on him embarrassingly hard). Jimin was a Korean sign language translator, and had met Gguk through Seokjin, and even though professionally, they had no reason to hang out, Jimin had become a permanent fixture in their lives.
“Hello?”
“Yoongi-hyung, it’s Park Jimin. I’m sorry to bother you,” he laughed sheepishly, his voice soft. “I was just wondering if Hobi was okay with switching tomorrow’s dance class to 2:30 tomorrow. “Taetae’s got a class but he really doesn’t want to miss a single one.”
“Yeah, hang on, I’ll ask.”
Yoongi caught Hoseok’s arm with a grin and kissed him before signing the request and getting back on the phone with Park Jimin. Hoseok settled down beside him on the couch, placing his head in Yoongi’s lap and smiling contentedly.
“He says tomorrow’s class is canceled because so many people caught the flu. Didn’t you get the email?”
Yoongi heard the tapping of fingers against a phone screen. “No, we never…oh…yeah, here it is.”
Yoongi chuckled, combing his fingers through Hoseok’s soft, shiny hair as the latter snuggled into him.
“Ah, I’m embarrassed,” Jimin said.
“Don’t be. Now Taehyung doesn’t have to worry about missing it.”
“That’s true. Okay, I’ll leave you alone now. Sorry for bothering you, hyung.”
Yoongi ended the call, leaning over to plant a kiss on Hoseok’s forehead. He reached for Hoseok’s hands to sign to him, but they fell limp when he tried. He must have fallen asleep. Yoongi gently turned one of his boyfriend’s hands so that his palm was up, and finger-spelled a secret message slowly and deliberately into his warm skin.
I LOVE YOU.