Work Text:
“hey, yoongi-ah,”
yoongi's eyes flick up from where they’d been staring at the carpet between the two of them. he doesn’t react other than that, waiting patiently for hoseok to finish his sentence, but his mind revs it's engine, loud and unrelenting.
hoseok’s face should be barely visible in this light: a thick fog consisting of the dark, bleeding into any and every place air can reach. a musk that smells a hint like the refreshing silver of stars, except far too faint to be of any comfort. hoseok’s eyes are shining bright, though the rest of him is hidden behind the veil; a low contrast filter that cloaks the ground, the walls, the shadowy corners and even yoongi’s own wrist that rests an inch from his face. hoseok’s eyes are glowing. piercing, reflecting a light from god knows where. (god knows where. it’s probably god's light. or a god’s light. one of theirs, at least.)
yoongi wonders how he can see hoseok through the smoke. he wonders what kind of awesome power he has that can make yoongi’s blackened eyes clear enough to see beauty all the way across the room. it’s not easy. everything else is glum, hidden and blending into each other, making it a struggle for yoongi to recognise the edges of his own bedroom. even hoseok’s skin is grey without the sun to warm it up, but his eyes, those eyes. yoongi wonders if they’ll haunt him; beauty too harsh for such an ugly thing to see.
hoseok’s right arm is thrown out carelessly beside him – ragdolled, still, slightly bent at the elbow – but his hand couldn’t touch yoongi’s without him leaning a bit. he’s much too tired to be doing any of that moving crap, apparently. that's what he'd said a while ago.
they must have been here for close to two hours by now, silent for thirty minutes at the least. yoongi feels stupid for that twinging special feeling flaring in his gut just for getting to see such a high power beast sedated like this. of course he gets tired, he’s only human, after all. no different from the rest of us.
(maybe it has to do with how hoseok is the only one who gets to make yoongi rise to the top of the world, throw caution to the wind and ride purely off of the adrenaline he didn’t know he still had. maybe. maybe yoongi just wants this to be an equal exchange.)
yoongi could ask hoseok to kiss him, and he’s not sure hoseok would say no. it doesn’t mean anything though, yoongi isn't sure if words mean anything at all when they’re here. if he said that his shoulder is starting to hurt from being crushed against the ground too long, it would be merely superficial; a selection of noises that convey very little meaning. something just said for the sake of it. (but then again, nothing new.)
hoseok, for all the words he shoots loose around room, rarely says very much.
yoongi, for all the words he tries to fill with meaning and purpose, rarely feels like it’s enough.
where is the equilibrium? they are two parts of a sum he can’t figure out. yoongi worries that they’re actually puzzle pieces from different games, two atoms that found each other, that think they belong, but are actually tied to the other side of the universe. he’s worried that getting caught up in hoseok’s blinding light, catching the reflection of his eyes, was just a mistake. his light wasn’t meant for me. how does that thought feel on his tongue?
yoongi’s still staring, hoseok’s still staring; it’s only been a second or two. his lip gently curls up like it does when he says something cheeky, or something he takes pleasure in saying just as much as the reaction it receives. yoongi wonders what he might have to say on a night as dark as this, in a room with air as thick as this, to a soul as dim as his that just has to be barely visible in the effect of the floodlight that comes from someone like hoseok.
yoongi waits. hoseok grins, lazy.
“your eyes are glowing.”