#I look forward to writing some MORE jihope in the future

[skyedestiny]

There Is No Easy Way (pt. 2)

The continuation is here! Look alive, guys, because this one is long.  Happy Valentine’s Day, ARMY~! Please enjoy!

Parts: 1, 2, 3

As time went on, it became clear to Jimin just how very not-okay this arrangement actually was for Hoseok.  The elder tried to save face, but as things became more and more real - as their newest album took each step closer to being released to the public, there was no missing his signs of discomfort and disappointment.

It started with just a twinge in the expression when they were set to film their music video for Spring Day.  Little cracks in Hoseok’s usually chipper demeanor that Jimin only really noticed because he was looking out for them.  He always had an eye for detail, but considering this situation - cutting Hoseok’s part from the song - had never sat right with him, and he predicted that it never truthfully sat right with his hyung either, Jimin paid careful attention to spot proof that his way of thinking was justified.  Not that he’d wanted it to be.

Eventually, it didn’t take such a careful eye to spot Hoseok’s crestfallenness.  The day ‘You Never Walk Alone’ was announced to the public should’ve been a happy one.  But as soon as the group was out of the view of the public, the mention of it caused the typically optimistic and bouncy J-Hope to slip into an obvious stupor, that lasted a few minutes.  It was as if, all at once, his energy had been drained down to zero.

Yoongi had decided to call him out on it, in an attempt to draw Hoseok into discussion so that he could vent his sadness.  “Seok-Seok-ah.  What happened?” he asked, with a jut of his chin in the dancer’s direction.  “All of a sudden, you look like me.”

This brought a crooked smile and a snicker to Hoseok’s lips, but it still was a far cry from the joyfulness he normally displayed.  He feigned sleepiness, bringing a curled hand up to rub at his eye.  “Oh, I’m just tired, hyung.  I didn’t sleep well last night.”  It was meant to be reassuring but, on the off-chance that anyone had believed that, even the cover-up was cause for concern.

Hoseok seemed to realize this, so, casually, he continued.  “Jiminie spent the whole time muttering in his sleep about how handsome I am.”

“Yah, what is this hyung saying?!” Jimin couldn’t resist his smiling outburst.

The good thing was that this response brought out a much more genuine smile to Hoseok’s face, had his signature cackle bubble out from within him.

The bad thing was that it meant that Hoseok was aware of the fact that Jimin was still worried about him, and would probably do more, in the future, to stop his dongsaeng from picking up on any sadness he felt.

This was only something that Jimin would pick up on later, however, as the perfect way to distract Park Jimin, as Hoseok knew it, was through his funny-bone.  

This was not the first time that Hoseok had used such humor to successfully change a subject and, at least momentarily, get himself away from a situation without delving any further into it than he’d wanted to.  Jimin distinctly remembered one other instance of this - a day when Hoseok had decided to talk to fans on vlive.  Something had, apparently, not gone well, and Jimin had been left with Hoseok’s phone at the end of the night, streaming as if he’d been the one who had decided to in the first place.  It was always dizzying and subtle at first.

Jimin nearly cursed when he realized the full extent of what had happened.  Hoseok did not like discussing his troubles and worries with the group.  He never did.  Jimin knew that his hyung took his role as Bangtan’s hope very seriously - almost as seriously as dance.  So it was rare that Hoseok would ever confess feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, or general unhappiness to the group.  Jimin knew that he felt as if he’d be a burden if he did.

But he wouldn’t.  And Jimin vowed after the first time this had happened that he would never be dissuaded away from such a situation ever again.  The knowledge that Hoseok had slipped himself and his feelings of insecurity past him once again was almost infuriating.  

Anger probably wasn’t the right response to have to all of this, and Jimin knew that too, but he couldn’t help from feeling just a little bit enraged on Hoseok’s behalf, for his own self-mistreatment.  This was important.  And it should not have just been brushed off.

What could he do, though? Jimin couldn’t just force Hoseok to talk about something that he didn’t want to, could he? No, that wouldn’t be right.  With this conundrum swirling within him, Jimin did his best to take a deep breath and push on.  

His answer to that internalized question changed, eventually, when Jimin could no longer keep his feelings on the matter at bay.

It was the day of the music video’s premiere.  After having spent a good hour broadcasting to their fans to hype everyone up, it was decided that the best way to finish off the festivities, which were just as much for themselves as for their fanbase, would be to watch the video when it went live for themselves.

This would be the first time any of them would’ve seen the music video.  Jimin paid close attention to Hoseok’s hands, which he kept tightly linked, as all seven members counted down.

He paid even closer attention when, for a good minute or so after the fact, Hoseok remained completely silent, staring down at the floor in front of him.  Everyone but Hoseok and Jimin were engulfed in chatter and discussion, talking about their favorite parts or what they felt could’ve been done better.  Thankfully, everyone was absorbed in conversation, and neither Taehyung nor Jungkook questioned when Jimin suddenly got up and made his way to nonchalantly stand next to Hoseok.

Obviously this couldn’t be played as abject comfort.  Hoseok would shy away from that, insist that nothing was wrong, maybe even push Jimin away and say that he was being silly.  Jimin smiled, wizened and ready.  He knew how to do this - how to give solace and affection in a way that would be accepted by his hyung.  Playfully, he scooted closer.  Then closer, still, ‘til their elbows touched.  

Hoseok didn’t seem fazed, still engrossed in his own contemplation.  That was okay.  He didn’t have to be paying attention.  Jimin made to link his arm through Hoseok’s when-

The older dancer seemed to pop right back into the here and now, a smile that would appear bright to anyone who wasn’t watching closely blooming on his lips as he asked everyone if they wanted to go out for food and drinks, even throwing a jovial thumb in the direction of the studio’s exit.

He’d barely finished talking before Jimin was pulling him away by his elbow, dragging him not towards the exit, but to another, empty room.

“Jiminie?” It was all Hoseok could manage as he blinked, shocked at the younger.  “Aigoo, relax your grip, huh? I need that arm.”

But Jimin just kept pulling.  He’d had enough of Hoseok hiding and covering up his sadness.  No more.

It was only when they reached the silence of the other room that Jimin let go and turned to face his hyung.  “Yah! Jimin!” Understandably, Hoseok was a little miffed at the sudden rough treatment.  “What is this? What’s going on?”

Jimin’s response was immediate, but it wasn’t an answer.  He refused to answer Hoseok’s question before Hoseok got to his.  After all, he’d held his in longer.  “Why did you do it?” he snapped, an accusing finger pointed at the elder.

Hoseok flashed him a look - one that, at any other time, might have made Jimin realize that he was being disrespectful and would make him lessen his intensity.  Except, Jimin knew that he was being ‘disrespectful’ this time.  He didn’t care.  This was important.

The older dancer seemed to understand that.  So, with a breath, he dropped his look and slumped in his own stance.  Jimin wasn’t one to act like this.  Which meant whatever he was upset about really mattered.  “What are you talking about?” If anything, Hoseok only looked and sounded tired now.

Some of Jimin’s annoyance, his sternness melted away at that, replaced with something more sympathetic.  “Your part.”  He almost looked to be pleading.  “Why did you give up your part in the song?”

Hoseok might not have expected that answer, but of course he’d known that Jimin had been preoccupied by this issue for as long as it had been one.  At the clarification, he threw back his head, gave an aggrieved, exhausted roll of his eyes.  More pained than snide.  “Jiminie, it’s passed.”

“No! Hyung-"

“It’s over-”

“I know that.”  Jimin stepped in front of Hoseok to block his escape back to the main room, and gripped at his arms.  “But why?”

Hoseok’s answering expression was equal parts annoyed and begging for Jimin to not make him talk about this.

Jimin’s look softened again, returned to being gentle.  He only looked sad and curious now, as if this question had actually tormented him.  

The older dancer stilled at that.

“Hyung.”  And all the sternness was gone from Jimin’s voice.  All that was left was the plea.  The pressure on Hoseok’s arm felt more like an embrace than a threat - a gesture of affection, love, and warmth, not confrontation.

Hoseok’s gaze focused in on the sincerity in Jimin’s eyes, and he frowned.  He visibly deflated.  That was it - no more fighting.  It was kind of funny (and a little sad) just how easily the young dancer could pacify them all, should he so wish to.

Finally, an answer.  “Someone had to.”

Not good enough.  “You don’t know that, hyung-”

“Jimin-ah.”  Hoseok intercepted him again, nothing but weariness to his tone now.  He couldn’t, wouldn’t argue this point.

“Alright, fine.”  It didn’t really sound fine, but Jimin accepted it and moved onto his next question.  “But why you? You volunteered right away.”

For a while, Hoseok was silent, looking at a distant spot on the floor.  Jimin waited.  Eventually, a smile quirked Hoseok’s lips.  But it was absent of mirth.  Like everything else, the stretch of his mouth only looked tired and sad.  “We can’t have a song without Suga or Rap Monster, Jimin-ah.”  It wasn’t said ruefully.  It was the truth.  And one that Hoseok was happy to accept.  In Hoseok’s eyes, Yoongi and Namjoon were the real rappers of the group.

“Namjoon-hyung had two parts in the song,” said Jimin.  “Why not ask to just switch out one of those?”

Hoseok shut down the suggestion immediately with a shake of his head, smile a little truer now, as if Jimin should have known better.  “Jimin-aaaaah.”  The title was drawn out affectionately, but still chastising.

Jimin’s frown deepened, some shame tinging it.  Alright, so maybe that was a little unrealistic.  He could understand why Hoseok wouldn’t have considered doing that.  Namjoon was Bangtan’s leader, and he had played a big part in writing the song.  Hoseok wouldn’t have felt it fair to have asked something like that.

Silence lingered again.  Jimin removed his hand from Hoseok’s arm.  For a moment, the two were at an impasse.  Neither of them had any more points to argue but they also didn’t want to move on.

But there was still one more question Jimin had yet to ask.  “Why you, though?”

One Hoseok had thought that he’d already answered.  Confusion twitched in his expression.

So Jimin clarified.  “Why can’t we have a song without Yoongi or Joon-hyung, but we can have one without Hobi-hyung?”

Hoseok’s face fell, surprised and crestfallen.  Maybe this was the real question he’d been dreading talking about all along.  His entire being seemed to droop from the weight of it.

He didn’t answer.  He couldn’t.  What could he say? His thinking would’ve been obvious to an outside observer, and Jimin was closer inward than most.  So he only stared at Jimin like a deer caught in the headlights, his pupils wavering.  There was a subtle gulp, and a slightly more perceivable shimmer of his brown eyes.  In one smooth moment, he suddenly stood in complete contrast against his blonde, sunny appearance.  The unshed tears and terrified expression played in stark relief to his typical bubbly, joyful demeanor.  He did not want to talk about this.

Everything about Hoseok in that instance broke Jimin’s heart.  His mouth fell open as if his hurt was physical, and tears began to rise in his own eyes.  “Hoseok-hyung.”  Desperately, he gripped again at Hoseok’s arm.  

But the elder’s gaze did not change.  He only shook his head.

A moment passed where there was nothing.  The same misery coming from one, disbelief from the other.  Jimin couldn’t accept what he was seeing - Hoseok looking so defeated.  It wounded him to his core.  “Hyung.”  The word was whimpered as Jimin closed the distance between them, pulling Hoseok into a firm hug, pressing his head into his shoulder.

Now that Jimin was no longer looking at him, it was easier to talk.  The lump in Hoseok’s throat had shrunk.  “I’m okay, Jiminie.”

But Jimin knew that it was a lie.  “You’re important - you know that, don’t you, hyung? Bangtan needs you.”

While Hoseok didn’t physically pull away, Jimin could feel the distance widening between them in their energy.  “Jimin-” The elder tried to dismiss him.

“No, I’m serious.”  Jimin pulled back only so he could look Hoseok in the eyes.  “And not just because of your dancing.  You inspire us, hyung.  And you’re a really good rapper.  And a really handsome fellow.”

Hoseok couldn’t help snickering at that, a faint, irrepressible smile tugging at his lips.  It complimented the blush that settled on his cheeks.  “Jimin-ah, please.”

The slight expression was reassuring enough that Jimin could regain a smile of his own.  He let a bit of exaggerated confidence into his stance.  “I’m right,” he declared.  “I am.  And if you ask any of the other members they’ll say the same thing.  And I’ll make you a bet that a lot of fans out there are going to be unhappy that you aren’t on this song.”

Hoseok’s cheeks glowed a little brighter.  He might not have entirely believed Jimin, but still, he couldn’t help but be warmed by his words.  “Of course, our Jiminie is right about everything.  Who could ever question you?”

Though Hoseok’s words were sarcastic, there was no bite to them.  Jimin knew that this was just deflection in the form of more humor.  He’d let it slide for now.  He wouldn’t be swayed too far from his point.  

Jimin shrugged.  “Well, someone could question me.  But in the end, they’d lose that argument.  Because I’m right.”

“Aaaah, cocky.”  Making like he was annoyed, Hoseok rolled his eyes and sent a playful shove towards his group-mate.

But Jimin only caught his hand on the way there, held it in both of his.  “No, listen to me, hyung, honestly, does it really count as cocky if all I’m saying is indisputable truth?”

That earned a wrinkling of Hoseok’s nose.  “Aigoo, this brat!” The older dancer began shaking his hand, trying (with intended frailty) to pry it loose from Jimin’s grasp.  “Really, this is too much.  I’m going to have to take a pin to your ego somehow because otherwise soon no one else is going to be able to fit in this room.

Jimin giggled, keeping his hold on Hoseok’s hand stable.  Teasing was all well and good, and Jimin was glad that they’d been able to come back to this flow.  But he wanted to make sure that his words weren’t discarded.

“Seriously, though, Hoseokie-hyung.” Jimin’s tone easily slid back into tender warmth, his smile losing its teasing cut and softening into something more serene.  “I meant everything I said.  And I am right.  You’re very special and one of the best people I know.  Please don’t ever forget that.”

Self-doubt was never easy to see through.  A perfectionist by nature, Hoseok had a habit of seeing every flaw within himself and magnifying it.  He was his own toughest critic and, anyone could tell you, Hoseok would never shut up.  But how could he argue with that? Jimin’s words warmed him from his head to his toes.  The dancer found that he was smiling too - mirroring back the younger’s expression.  

Gently, Hoseok hooked his ring finger and pinky over Jimin’s fingers, his hand still locked in his grasp, and he swinged their now-linked hands with the motion.  “Alright, Jiminie.”  For Jimin, he’d try.

[outroshooky]

Abandoned W.I.P. - Untitled [Jimin x Hoseok x Reader]

Genre // Abandoned Work In Progress

Pairing // Park Jimin x Jung Hoseok x Reader

Word Count // 1,882

Warnings // Angst.

This was originally going to be written for a friend. It was angst transitioning into smut, but frankly, a lack of inspiration/sexual experience/a personal struggle to properly blend the scenes into each other caused me to abandon it. This is the angsty beginning of what would’ve eventually become the full fic. If there’s any interest in another JiHope smut, I’ll consider writing one in the future.

“It’s late, Jimin.”

How easily three simple words could pierce through the quiet, how easily an eleven letter sentence could sum up every fear, every worry of the last two and a half weeks. Sixteen days, but honestly, who was counting?

You’d been a company of three from the start, exactly fourteen months ago. One dominant third was pure joy and lust, hand in hand, another dutiful third was bashful confidence, a perfect complement, and the final third was submissive, reserved steadiness, the quiet end cap to your three-piece puzzle. Three hearts beat in a bed made for two, three coats hung in the hallway on a one-hook rack, three sets of feet trod the stairs every morning in search of cereal and a caffeine fix. It was unorthodox, and certainly a unique arrangement, but you were completion in a trio, and having only one or two of the sections fit together was unacceptable. It was all or nothing, and that was the rule you lived by, the motto you had adopted since day one. Three simple words went unspoken by the simple eleven letter phrase: “It’s late, Jimin.”

Joy had nudged you from sleep’s feeble grasp, a hushed call of your name was all it took for you to jerk awake and a second was all it took for you to notice that a piece was missing, and joy fell flat at your side. “Hobi, where is he?”

It had been like this for sixteen days. You’d fall asleep in completion and awake to two hearts racing where three once dozed in secure comfort. These nights became the norm: confused nights of meeting one pair of dark eyes instead of two, stinging nights of feeling the indentation in the mattress separate instead of link your halves, lonely nights of burrowing into one pair of arms and missing the second wrap around your back. He was gone, he’d run off to the couch again, and neither of you knew how to handle it. All or nothing, all or nothing.

The concern written on his face told you everything you needed to know, and you tossed the comforter back, swinging your bare legs over the edge of the bed. You glanced at your boyfriend over your shoulder, shirtless and worried, and reached for his hand. His slender fingers interlocked with yours, warm and secure, and he squeezed gently.

He too was without a shirt, clad only in boxers, curled into himself and tucked into the arm of the scratchy couch you’d bought from IKEA two months ago that Hoseok had insisted fit with the wall color, but was three shades too dark for your own personal preference. Jimin was the one to put the thing together after four hours of suffering on yours and Hobi’s behalfs, and he happened to fit it perfectly together on the first try, which prompted a second misshapen dent in the same wall during your time of living in the small apartment. Hoseok had jokingly chucked a phillips’ head down the hallway and misjudged his own strength, narrowly missing Jimin and bashing the plaster right above the TV. The memories associated with that cream-colored piece of furniture flared in the back of your mind and you recentered to the present, watching your other boyfriend stare into space without even as much as a glance to acknowledge your presence.

“It’s late, Jimin.” You leaned against the chipped door frame and crossed your arms, tossing your head back to brush the loose strands of hair out of your vision. Warmth emanated from behind you as Hoseok stepped forward and rested his forearm above your head. No reply came from the third party.

“Jimin.” You padded to the rug and sat cross-legged at his feet, forcing his empty eyes to flicker to yours, begging for answers. “Look at me.”

He blinked once, folding his limbs back into the abrasive cushions, wordless.

“We’re not going to get mad.” Hoseok settled himself on the couch next to Jimin, carefully keeping some space between them, resisting every urge in his body that screamed to wrap his arms around the younger male and soothe that god-awful pain away because there was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a simple human touch. As much as it hurt you to see Jimin broken and distant, it completely destroyed Hobi. Hoseok wanted nothing more than to comfort, and to be rejected burned like hot iron, hurt worse than the loneliness, tasted like betrayal. “We just want to talk.” He looked down at you, auburn hair tousled and flattened on one side from his pillow, and placed his hand on Jimin’s knee.“We’re worried about you, Jiminie. You haven’t been the same in weeks.”

Jimin visibly tensed, mouth set firmly, resettling his wiry frame into the fetal position. “I'm fine.” It came out as a whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

You shook your head. “You’re obviously not fine.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “It's nothing. I'm fine.” His eyes never left the misshapen stain on the woolen shag carpet.

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, looking from you to Jimin to you again, trying and failing to come up with the right words. “You're not fine, Jimin.” He traced his thumb over the ridge of his boyfriend’s knee, pressing gentle circles over the smooth skin, trying to comfort without being overbearing. “This isn't fine.”

Jimin chose silence as a reply, but his flexing jaw and hunched shoulders said everything he couldn’t seem to verbalize. It was your turn to speak up. “Baby, please.”

You appealed to his softer side, the flexible part that you knew you could worm your way through to get to him. He was on the opposite side of a window, insecurities forged into the glass; within reach yet so far away. You and Hoseok were the only ones who could slip through the cracks, the only ones permitted to rebuild him from the inside out. “Let us in.”

He was breaking down now, you could tell. His stony exterior splintered with every heavy exhale, his release of bated breath. “You wouldn't understand.” He stretched out, slouching and sliding down, arms crossed.

“Try us.” Hoseok repositioned himself to face the younger male, the soft light from the silver standing corner lamp cutting across his jaw and sharpening it to a knife edge.

“I'm scared.” Jimin’s voice seemed to ring through the dim room.

“Of?” Hobi reached for Jimin’s hand.

“This…” Jimin drew his hand back a fraction, looking up into Hoseok’s eyes, wide with surprise and the smarting burn of rejection. “I-” He cut himself off.

“What?” You shifted forward onto your knees.

“You know what’s terrifying?” Jimin was up on his feet before you could even blink, striding to the opposite side of the room, staring straight at the miscellaneous photo collage on the wall. His hands clenched into fists and for a brief moment, you thought he was actually going to drive his knuckles into the scraped paint. You could hear Hoseok’s sharp intake of breath and knew he was thinking the exact same thing. “This. This is terrifying.”

Your footsteps were apprehensive as you approached, hair tousled and back muscles defined in the dimness of the room. Tension hung sticky and thick and for a brief moment, you were afraid, but your hand came out and touched him, and he turned with you, back to the wall, bare chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands were still fisted tightly, and you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from where they fell at his sides to look up at him.

“This, what we have?” Jimin leveled his gaze over the top of your head to the window, not even daring to look at you because god help him if he did, he would fragment, collapsing into a thousand pieces, losing himself further in the chaos. “God, you don’t even know.” He inhaled shakily, hands uncurling, trembling fingers stretching to their widest. “This is killing me.”

You took one step closer to him, close enough to see the single bead of sweat dripping over the slim line of his shoulder to the edge of his collarbone, close enough to see him shudder when he finally met your leveled gaze. You could read pain in every aspect, raw, blistering and exposed after so long having been guarded deep inside. Something flashed across his face, a glint of longing piercing the sullen expression, and for a fleeting second you had to stamp down the urge to kiss him, because god, this might be the last chance you’d ever get to feel his swollen lips press tentatively against your own, and you wondered if he had to briefly suppress the same desire.

“I can't do this anymore.” The words were choked, they spilled out of his perfect rosebud mouth like the dip of a small stream, tumbling over jagged rocks and settling in thin, deep crevices. “I love you too much. Both of you. And I don’t know when to stop.” His voice broke with the last forced sentence, and Jimin shattered into countless pieces.

When Hoseok had come to stand behind you again, you weren’t certain, but he gently brushed past you and enveloped the younger male in his embrace, Jimin’s face buried in Hobi’s neck. Muscular, lithe body conformed faultlessly with smooth and lean frame, clicking and fitting together, molding into perfection. Hoseok hummed deep and low in his throat, the slight rasp filling the space, a soothing countermelody to yours and Jimin’s tears. When you had started crying, you weren't certain of that either, but your eyes stung of salt and you quickly wiped them with the sleeve of Hoseok’s oversized sweatshirt, which was equal parts pajama top and source of instant comfort. You could see the top of Jimin’s head shake as he mumbled soft apologies between cries, his body jerking with the sheer amount of emotion, and hear the murmur of Hoseok’s whispered replies against his boyfriend’s temple, peppering the lightest of kisses against the honeyed skin. Hobi closed his eyes and you realized telltale tracks traced his cheeks, shimmering in the hazy glow. Your heart screamed to step across to Hoseok and wrap your arms around Jimin’s back, but your mind quietly insisted that you hold back, waiting for Hoseok to make the next move.

Hoseok pulled back to look at Jimin, whose arms were still looped around Hobi’s slender waist, desperate fingers splayed over the expanse of the skin of his back, not wanting to let go. He tilted his head down and slowly ran one hand through Jimin’s silky blonde hair, grazing the scalp with his fingernails, coming to cup his boyfriend’s cheek and run his thumb over the soft skin. Their gazes leveled, composed and anguished versus broken and raw.

Jimin’s eyes unfocused, and he redoubled his grip on Hoseok’s hips, hands sliding up his front to link around his boyfriend’s neck, faltering at the auburn hairline. He seemed to be having an inward battle with himself, torn and bruised only becoming more battered as he shook his head and closed his eyes, tears still dripping silently yet freely down his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Jimin.” Hoseok murmured.

“I'm sorry-”

“Jimin.”

“I-”