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Hoseok sighs, again, breath getting lost in the emptiness of the dorms. He’s fidgety when they’re here and fidgety when they’re not. Not even a manager in sight. He’s laid out on the couch, head against one armrest, feet against the other. He runs his fingerpads around the buttons on the remote. Nothing is on. Nothing he feels like watching, at least. His stomach growls. He’s hungry, but it’s too much effort to cook anything. Not that they have much in the kitchen here anyway. To distract from his hunger, he flips the TV to a new year’s countdown on some news station. Watching the seconds tick may help him, he thinks. Two hours and fifty-two minutes until 2013. He’ll probably fall asleep before then.
Hoseok hasn’t been sleeping so well lately. He can’t really remember the last time he got a good night’s rest. His anxiety keeps him up at night. Especially being a trainee, in a new environment. There’s a lot going on, too much going on. He’s familiar with it: the buzz of bad feelings in a cloud behind his shoulder, the static of dull chaos in his head. He can’t pick up the choreography quick enough, he doesn’t work hard enough, he isn’t good enough. Even when he finally feels confident, the second he has to perform in front of somebody his nerves crash. He can’t deal with the pressure. Being an idol, it’s all pressure.
As much as the other trainees bother him sometimes, at least they can help ground him. When they aren’t around, it’s just Hoseok and his thoughts. And Hoseok doesn’t particularly enjoy that at the moment.
Coincidentally, Hoseok’s phone starts to buzz. It’s from Yoongi. He instinctively hopes it isn’t an emergency.
“Yeoboseyo? Hyung?”
“Hey. It’s me. How are you doing?”
Hoseok is thrown off guard. “I’m… fine. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Yoongi’s low mumble is a little hard to hear over the phone. “I know you weren’t feeling well during practice.”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m doing okay. Just bored! Don’t worry about me, really.”
“Have you eaten?”
“What are you, my mom?” Or my boyfriend , Hoseok jokes to himself. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “I’m fine, really! Go have fun with your family.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then what Hoseok calls a “Yoongi noise”. Kind of like an euh , just a short deep little sound that doesn’t mean anything in particular. Or, depending on the context, could be an abbreviation of three sentences.
“Happy new year, hyung. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“See you,” Yoongi mumbles, but stays on the line.
Hoseok is the one that hangs up. As soon as he puts his phone down, he sighs. More air surrendered to the empty room.
~
The young pup of a boy is awoken from his sleepy daze by the sound of the doorbell. He thinks maybe he was just hearing things, so he blearily blinks and waits to hear it again. And then there it is, the doorbell, in reality. He stretches out, yawning, taking a quick glimpse at the TV-- the screen says 01:44:16, but he’s too groggy to do the math and figure out what the current time is-- and then stumbles to the door. When he looks through the peephole, it’s Yoongi. He swings open the door for him.
“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”
Yoongi holds up his hands. A plastic bag that smells like chicken in one hand, three beers in the other. Hoseok is a few months shy of drinking age, but he’s had a few drinks before. More than anything, he’s touched Yoongi even brought them. He’s touched Yoongi brought anything. Hell, he’s just touched Yoongi is even
here
.
“I brought you dinner.”
Normally, this situation would have been met with some high-pitched squeals from Hoseok, but he’s so genuinely moved that he’s past aegyo. “Hyung, you… you didn’t have to do this, really.”
Yoongi sheds his shoes and jacket and the door, and brings the food into the living room. He sets it all down on the coffee table, and takes a seat on the couch. “S’ fine,” he grumbles. He opens a beer and holds it out in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok takes it.
“Thanks. Really. I mean it.”
“Quit thanking me and just eat the chicken before it gets cold. The beer is already lukewarm.”
Hoseok chuckles. Yoongi’s brand of niceness is peculiar.
“Was your family okay with you leaving early?” Hoseok asks as he plops down on the couch and starts rummaging through the chicken.
“They were fine with it. We aren’t… that close anyway.”
Hoseok, through a mouthful of drumstick, makes a noise that means “Okay”. He doesn’t press Yoongi on it.
The older boy grabs a wing, and glances at the numbers on the TV. “Is this what you were watching? No wonder you were bored.”
“I didn’t feel like watching anything.”
Yoongi furrows his brow, still chewing on his chicken. The downward quirk of his eyebrows raise up into a concerned expression for approximately two seconds, and then his face flattens into his typical tired neutrality. He takes a swig of beer.
“I took a shower and nap after practice and felt better, but you’re right about my anxiety acting up lately,” Hoseok says matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You say a lot of things, just not out loud. You’re like that.”
There’s a pause. Hoseok sips on his beer, which tastes like piss, but he ignores the flavor in determination to reach a level of tipsiness that will hopefully lighten the mood.
“Then what number am I thinking of right now.”
“I didn’t say I could read your mind, smartass,” Hoseok says while punching Yoongi in the arm. The older boy immediately eases at the sight of the younger’s heart-shaped smile.
“Thank god. My secrets aren’t safe with you, Seok-seok-ah. I don’t trust that you wouldn’t tell Jungkook that I’ve been wearing his underwear for weeks.”
Hoseok busts out laughing, cheeks already pink from the beer. His giggles are contagious-- and he loves watching Yoongi try really hard not to laugh at his own jokes. “You’re a pervert, Yoongi, y’know that?”
“I’m not a pervert, I was just out of underwear.”
“Oh, yeah, like how Namjoon’s not a pervert, the computer just gets all those viruses out of nowhere.”
This makes Yoongi laugh so hard he flops into the couch. “We don’t even need to read Namjoon’s mind, because he’s always spewing out his stream of consciousness anyway. He thinks out loud.”
They go back and forth like this for a while, just the regular routine of trying to make each other laugh. Their cheeks hurt. All of Hoseok’s lost sigh air has returned into their gasping lungs. They’ve finished the chicken and the beers by the time they’ve settled down. They both glance towards the TV, which is still on the countdown. Only fourty-two minutes until 2013. The two of them just sit there for a minute or so, watching the seconds tick down. Hoseok thinks about how grateful he is that Yoongi came down to see him, and Yoongi thinks about god knows what.
Hoseok breaks the silence. “I really can’t read your mind, though. I promise.”
“Should I talk more? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You talk too much about stuff no one cares about,” Hoseok says shooting a smile across the couch, “But when it comes to serious stuff you never say anything.”
A pause. “I’m just bad with my words.”
“That’s a lie and you know it. I’ve read your lyrics, you’re better with your words than anybody I know. You just… like to choose them carefully, I guess.”
Yoongi nods, and runs his tongue along his lips. His nervous habit. Hoseok acknowledges it as a sign that the conversation is returning to serious territory.
“You pack a lot of meaning into little gestures. Like, when you asked me if I had eaten, I know it really means ‘I’m worried about you’. And when you come all the way here with food, I know it means ‘I really care about you.’”
Hoseok doesn’t realize how sappy it sounds until he’s said it out loud. Yoongi’s face is red, and Hoseok can’t tell if he’s blushing or if it’s just because of the two beers.
He tries to soften it a little. “I mean… at least, that’s how I see it. Am I reading too much into it?”
“No, no, you’re right,” Yoongi says in a dismissive tone that Hoseok knows he’s only using to try and seem less emotional.
He’s staring straight at the countdown. Neither of them say anything. Hoseok, in fear that he’s making Yoongi uncomfortable, is about to drop the subject when Yoongi speaks up again.
First, he clears his throat. “I do care about you. And these days, when your health isn’t that great... I know your anxiety is bad, and I just want to help. Especially… especially when you help me with my shit. My depression shit. You don’t have to do that, but you do. When I don’t feel like getting out of bed or going to practice, when I feel like just giving up, you’re there for me. To motivate me. It’s like, you give me energy when I have none, so I want to take away your stress when you have too much. We’re a good team, you and me. In a kind of fucked up way. We just kind of struggle together sometimes and try our best to make it less shitty for the other person. But that’s… better than what I’ve ever had with anyone else. You just… you’re so bright and lively and funny but I know you’re fragile. You just feel things harder. It makes me... want to protect you. You’re too good to deserve any of the bad shit you feel. I mean, no one deserves it, but you… God, Hoseok, you’re human sunshine, and it breaks my heart knowing you can’t believe in yourself sometimes.”
Yoongi hasn’t broken eye contact with the TV throughout the entire thing. Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, he’s just taking in Yoongi’s words. His chest feels weird, heavy. Hoseok has always connected with Yoongi, but it was unspoken.
Yoongi continues.
“And… honestly… sometimes I worry. About… the future. After we debut…”
And then, Yoongi stops. Hoseok waits for the end of the sentence, but it never comes.
“What? After what?”
“Nothing. Nevermind.”
“No, hyung, c’mon.”
“Nah, I already said so much. It’s weird even saying all that. I’m done now.”
Hoseok doesn’t push Yoongi on it. He’s grateful enough to hear everything he’d already said. Yoongi’s words are rattling around Hoseok’s head.
Yoongi is fidgeting. “Say something. Don’t make it awkward.”
“I don’t really know what to say. I mean… besides that I feel that way too. About us as a team.”
Hoseok pauses and deliberates on what he’s about to say next. He figures that if Yoongi went out on a limb to spill his feelings, it’d be rude if he didn’t do the same.
He takes in a breath. “I don’t know what it is about us, but… it’s… different. You’re… you’re more than a hyung to me. More than a friend, more than a brother. Something else.”
Yoongi, for the first time, makes eye contact with Hoseok. His expression carries a thousand emotions. Hoseok feels them all.
They’re momentarily broken from the moment by the sound of the TV. It’s eight minutes until midnight.
“Yoongi. Are we? Are we something else?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what this is. Does it have to be something? Do we have to call it anything? Can’t it just be us?”
They both are looking back and forth between each other and the numbers on the screen.
“Yoongi, what were you going to say earlier. About after debut.”
A pause. Yoongi is the king of pauses. Hoseok doesn’t hear anything in this one besides hesitation.
“Please, Yoongi.”
“Just… just that… I don’t know how it’s going to be. After debut. In the far future, if we ever make it big. I don’t… I don’t want to lose this, Hoseok. Us being here for each other in the nitty gritty. Us doing what we’re doing right now. Maybe it’s stupid that I’m afraid things will change, but I am. I’m just… I’m terrified of losing this.”
Four minutes to midnight.
Hoseok stares straight into Yoongi, and he sees that his eyes are getting teary. Seeing this, Hoseok himself immediately begins to tear up, his lips pouting into a ㅅ. Yoongi begins to fret, cooing out to Hoseok and grabbing his hands, “Please don’t cry, oh my god, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Fuck. Don’t cry. If you cry I cry and we both don’t want that.”
Hoseok sniffles, fighting back the tears.
“Your lips totally look like a siot right now,” Yoongi says smiling.
“You’re like when parents try to get their babies to stop crying,” Hoseok says, sniffling and giggling nonetheless.
Hoseok has stopped crying, but Yoongi is still holding his hands.
One minute to midnight.
“I promise,” Hoseok says, “I promise you won’t lose this. That we won’t lose this.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi says. “I promise, too.”
“To 2013,” Hoseok announces.
“To 2013, and 2014, and 2015, and 2016, and 2017”-
“Stop, Yoongi, I hate thinking about time like that.”
“You’re the one watching the countdown.”
“We’re both watching it, smartass.”
Thirty seconds to midnight.
They just look at the numbers ticking down.
Sixteen seconds to midnight.
Yoongi says “Thank you” again.
Hoseok reads everything in those two words.
Ten seconds to midnight.
The TV is playing the sounds of people counting down. Hoseok and Yoongi don’t count down out loud.
Nine!
Eight!
Seven!
Hoseok looks at Yoongi. Really looks at him. Thinks about everything. Wonders what Yoongi is thinking. Doesn’t ask. It’s probably also everything.
Four!
Yoongi looks back at Hoseok.
Two!
Hoseok leans forward. His heart skips a beat.
Fireworks and cheering play out of the TV.
Hoseok kisses Yoongi on the lips.