Beautiful Woman
Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 2.1k
Summary: Based on a tumblr text post that goes
“My dad always used to refer to my mum as “the most beautiful woman in the world” and I always thought it was kind of dumb, because I could look at my mum and know for sure that she was not the most beautiful woman in the world, not even by far, and I always thought that my dad was just saying that to be nice. And then one day I met the most beautiful woman in the world.”
If you find it, please link it to me, I’d appreciate it very much! Thanks! X
Note: I found a post on Instagram and read it out to my friends because I saw the OT7 for this but they saw Hobi before anyone else. I’m thinking about making a series maybe? For all of them? Idk. Yes. Hello. I am not dead.
Dad was always really sappy when it came to mom. He gave her flowers, candlelit dinners, surprised her with her favourite things and overall tried to be the husband she always dreamed of marrying. People would always look at them and wonder or wish that they could achieve something like that some day, but having to live with that every day of my life proved to be kind of uncomfortable.
Even though I was born into the world under my noona’s caring eye, she wasn’t there to share my discomfort when it came to our parents’ affections; If anything, she dreamed, just like everyone else, to have something akin to their relationship one day.
Me?
I just want to survive college. Even if my family supports my dancing through and through, I still push myself to do my best in order to make them proud. I major in dance, minor in international studies. Even though dancing is what I love to do and it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, from where I stand right now I’m not completely sure if it can sustain me right after college is over. Dance companies get really picky with who they recruit.
I’ve just gotten off the phone with mom, she’s called to reconfirm if I was coming over this weekend for dad’s birthday to which I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I’d try. By the time I say goodbye, my eyes hazily drift towards the wall clock in the apartment I share with Joon and I see that I’m 20 minutes late for my first class.
I run to my room, matting down my bed hair as I dig for a decent pair of sweats in the closet. I slip on a black pair as I stick my toothbrush in my mouth before I realise the shirt I was wearing isn’t exactly something that should be worn beyond the walls of home. My inner cheek starts to burn from the minty concentration and I quickly shove the bristles of my toothbrush back and forth before letting it rest again on the opposite side. I’m 6 feet deep into my closet, searching for my yellow hoodie, when Joon comes in my door.
“You’re gonna clean this up right?”
I barely register that his question needs an answer and that my answer should be verbal, but before my brain can send instructions to my mouth in order for me to say yes, I catch a glimpse of mustard yellow under a pile of denim jeans and I shout in victory, little puffs of foam shooting out.
Joon shakes his head with a small smile. He’s gotten too used to this so no further conversation is needed. He walks out of my room as I make my way back into the bathroom to rinse and gargle, the effort of matting my hair down still in process. I check the clock on my bedside table and see that 20 more minutes have passed.
Shit.
I turn the tap on in haste, shoving as much water as I could in the little amount of time I allowed myself. When enough paste was out my mouth I tried to gather the water into my hair as well, maybe a little liquid could help me tame it, I didn’t stay in the bathroom long enough to see if my efforts worked.
Practically ripping my current shirt off, I realise that there’s no use in grabbing a new one since I’m going to be wearing the hoodie all day anyway. I shove it over my head, scampering towards the foot of my bed where my half empty backpack lay untouched from yesterday; with that, I’m rushing out the door.
“Joon, I’m out!”
“Have a good day!”
“Always do!”
The door shuts a little harder than I intended, but hopefully Joon understands that I’m on my way to be executed by my World Literatures professor—he hates me as is, hates people who are late even more… so you can imagine how deadly a pair we make.
The building’s main door almost hits someone as I fly past it, they curse at me, I apologise before running off. I can feel them give me the stink eye but it’s not like I’m in the proper position to care right now.
My World Literatures lecture room is right on the other side of campus—opposite of where I live (because I chose to live closer to the dance studio than all my classes) and I’m running as fast as I can to make it before he locks the door at the 30 minute mark.
I’m turning corners and whipping past people when my phone vibrates in my pocket. My pace slows slightly as I take it out to check who would text me so early in the morning.
Mom
7:24AM: Have a good day at school, sweetheart! We really hope to see you this weekend. Love you xx
I practically wasted time wondering who’d text me so early.
Dad’s told us on numerous occasions how mom’s very persuasive when she wants to be, but she’s not the all-up-in-your-face-saleswoman kind of persuasive, she’s the kind that gets under your skin, into your head and all those things. We were scared of that, but we never really noticed when she was trying to get things to go her way. Kind of like how someone’s furious but they’re passive-aggressive about it.
I’m trying to type up a response about how I love her as well when I crash right into someone. I hear a yelp before my own groan resonates in my ears, followed by the sound of books clattering on the sidewalk.
“Please watch where you’re going next time” she asks me gently, she doesn’t sound angry at all; more so as if she’s used to it by now.
I’m struggling to open my eyes and see her, the bump on my head growing with each pulse I can feel it giving out. So I give her another groan to at least tell her I’ve heard her—and that it won’t happen again.
Damn, I need to wake up earlier from now on.
As soon as the pain thrives out, I look at her to see her back to me. She’s on her knees and she’s desperately gathering the papers on the floor, some books lay open to the side as well but they seem disregarded compared to how much she looks like she needs the papers.
It takes me a second before I start to help her and then I’m scrambling around myself to catch papers before they fly off with the morning breeze. My World Literatures class forgotten.
“I’m really sorry about this, I’m in a hurry, my mom texted me about going to my dad’s birthday, I wasn’t watching where I was going, you have no idea how so—“ she cuts me off with a gentle laugh, her hair obscuring her face from me to see when I pause to look up at her.
She has a really pretty laugh.
“I was on my way back from class actually” she said. Her voice was o gentle I could listen to her speak for hours. I decided right then and there that it didn’t matter what it’d be about just as long as I get to keep listening to her.
“F-from class?” I asked, only then realising what she’d said.
“Yeah, I’m part of the 15% of the student body that opted for night classes” she giggles thereafter, her back now facing me as she gathers the other papers a little more to the left and decides on inserting them into the various folders that had spilled as well. She’ll probably have to rearrange them all later.
“I really am sorry” I mutter, losing my confidence as the guilt builds “for bumping into you”
We gather up the remaining items that fell out of her arms and then I think to myself—just how many things was this girl holding anyway?
I stand up, focusing a little on what papers I had gathered have written on them when I see her hold out her hand in the corner of my eye.
My phone vibrates again, so I absent-mindedly hand her what I’m holding as I give my attention to whoever’ calling me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sport!”
“Oh, hi dad!”
My smile widens a little, the guilt slightly forgotten.
“So I’ll bet the most beautiful woman in the world has you on your knees for coming home this weekend?”
I laugh, “Yeah, she called like 30 minutes ago” I can see her shift uncomfortably, I didn’t want to ruin a good thing before it started o I rushed to add “Mom’s dead set on making me come home, she even texted.”
She relaxes, as do I.
“Don’t pressure yourself, alright sport? Your noona will be here so your mom and I have some company anyway”
“Okay, dad”
We say our goodbyes and my thoughts drift once more to how he called mom ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’, she was probably listening in and dad wanted to be nice.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he could call mom the most beautiful woman in the world.
I look to the girl, she’s been waiting for my call to end and I decide that dad was definitely wrong when he said mom was the most beautiful woman in the world.
How could she be? When the most beautiful woman in the world was standing right in front of me?
“Dad, that’s so cheesy!!” your youngest, Taeyoon, squeals. From where you’re leaning on the doorway, you can see her kicking her legs under her blanket as she giggles in front of Hoseok. Her brothers, Jaeseung and Eujin sat at the foot of her bed, to Hoseok’s right, not quite appreciating the way her frolicking messed up the sheets beneath them.
“Your mom thought otherwise when I first told her what I thought about her.” Hoseok disagreed, sticking his tongue out at her in retaliation to her own. You couldn’t help but giggle from where you stood, your twin boys groaning and laughing at their father and little sister.
The story of how you and Hoseok first met happened so long ago that it really did feel like a fairytale you’d tell your kids before bed—something that your husband’s been doing for a while now.
Your kids have heard it more times than their little hands could allow them to keep track of, the repetition never bothered them because the essence of a true story seemed to give more value to their occasional bedtime story.
“So what happened after?” Eujin asked
Hoseok looked at him with mild surprise; it wasn’t the first time he asked that so his son clearly knew the answer.
“Your father’s going to tell you that he swept me off my feet with the temptation of breakfast and coffee” you say, abandoning the doorframe and making your way to whatever available space was on Taeyoon’s bed. Jaeseung moved to your side, leaning into you as you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead with Hoseok looking over at the two of you fondly. “But the truth is, he was at a loss for words, he stuttered and couldn’t even look at me.”
You smiled widely at Hoseok’s generous laughter, throwing his head back as your children look back and forth between you with smiles that matched the one you were wearing.
The boys had just turned eight a couple of months ago; your youngest was to turn four in the coming weeks but the windows of time in between the big things, windows like this, were the ones you enjoyed most.
“But your father was suave enough to flirt as subtly as he could” you teased, facing your daughter but eyeing her father; he was chuckling to himself—holding his head down. “And I figured maybe this guy was worth giving my number to.”
He gave you the warmest, most grateful smile; the sparkle in his eyes telling you just how thankful he was that you had given him a second glance and then a third, and another, and then so many more after that.
“And then she married me” he smiled
Taeyoon squealed, shivers run through her body by how her parents loved each other so much.
You smiled at him as well, telling yourself that you could never get tired of how his face lights up when he sees you.
“And then I married him.”
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Just This Once
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok
Genre: Angst
Word count: 5k
Summary: Based on a prompt I found (Probably from otpprompts) that goes like:
“Just this once... please stay”
Note: Y’all I have never been so relaxed and please while writing and finishing a story. This was birthed from my good friend’s endless love for Sope, she wanted to hurt so I gave her a reason to (I’m sadistic like that) I’m actually really proud of this and I do hope you enjoy! Excuse any overlooked mistakes
Hoseok always had to remind himself that Yoongi wasn’t going to change for him, no matter how much he loved Yoongi. The elder was his own person, Hoseok understood that, but the dancer had left everything behind for the latter, defending him endlessly when it came to others’ criticisms about him and forcing himself to look at the positive traits that Yoongi had when Hoseok’s other friends would name his horrible attributes.
It had been years, a couple of months over three if Hoseok was counting… not that he was. The years didn’t mean much to Yoongi so why would they mean so much to Hoseok? It’s not like Hoseok cared as much as he let on every anniversary that passed, he wasn’t hurt when Yoongi didn’t put in as much effort as he did. He knew Yoongi loved him just as much as he did Yoongi, why else would he have stayed for so long… right?
Now, just like every other time Hoseok had planned to hang out with Yoongi, he had to wait for the older man. It was nearing 9PM when Hoseok looked at the clock. He could see the patrons of the restaurant he sat in for two hours waiting for Yoongi, eye him in his peripherals. He sighed, knowing he would have to face the humiliation sooner or later. Dejectedly and already planning his rant to Yoongi once he got back to their apartment, Hoseok raised his hand and weakly motioned for the waiter to come over.
“Sir?”
Hoseok sighed again, not having the strength to look at the patron as he asked him for the bill.
“On the house, don’t worry about it.” The waiter said before Hoseok met his eyes and had given the young dancer a sad smile. Hoseok returned it with a tight lipped version of his own, thankful for the kindness but unwelcoming towards the pity that he was given. Nonetheless, Hoseok accepted their compassion and managed to drag his feet out the double doors and make the walk back to their apartment where Yoongi was either watching television or passed out.
Hoseok was angry, sure, but he was also used to it. Although, that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t disappointed in Yoongi. They had been together for so long but Yoongi was still the same asshole he was when Hoseok met him. But that sort of changed when they got together, when their dynamics rerun its course. Yoongi was still outspoken, vocal of his snide remarks and opinions but that had toned down whenever Hoseok was in the room, Yoongi was loving and clingy and he loved to hold Hoseok as they slept but when the latter wasn’t present, Yoongi was himself; Unfortunately.
The young dancer had received and endless stream of questions about Yoongi, about himself, and more so their entire relationship. People questioned them and told Hoseok that they weren’t good for each other. Some believed that Hoseok was good for Yoongi, but not the other way around. Someone as cynical as the older man ‘didn’t deserve someone as contradicting’ as Hoseok, which of course Hoseok disagreed to. But over the past several months, he was actually trying to convince himself that Yoongi was a good person, something he never had to do until recently.
The cold air comforted Hoseok as he walked with his face gradually warming, tears threatening to spill over as he struggled to keep his breathing levelled.
No. He wasn’t going to let Yoongi make him feel this way. Not in public. Not in front of him. Not if Hoseok had anything to do about it.
He angrily swiped at his damp eyes with the sleeves of his jacket, huffing out a staggered breath as the taste of salt stained his tongue. Hoseok hated it when he cried, which only added fuel to the fire. He swore under his breath, quickening his steps as their apartment complex finally came in to view and the light from their window showed that Yoongi was home, the flickering and changing of colours proving that he was watching television.
Hoseok’s eyebrows scrunched together in anger as his tears re-emerged once more. He stomped up the steps, flinging the door open and made his way to the little elevator that would take him to their floor. The sound of the electronic bell seemed to rip Hoseok’s gaze away from the ground and to the red LED which showed that the elevator was now on the ground floor; it opened, thankfully empty. Hoseok made his way inside, the anger simmering to a low with the gentle hum of the elevator music. He sighed as he clicked his floor, tears threatening to come up again. Hoseok cursed himself for being weak, for crying. He hated crying. He knew this so why couldn’t he control his own body fluid?
First floor.
He was going to leave. Hoseok was going to leave Yoongi. It wouldn’t be the third time that Hoseok decided this; it wasn’t the first time Yoongi had stood Hoseok up in their entire three years together. In the past, Yoongi wouldn’t even bother holding Hoseok back, knowing that the younger only needed a night or two away from the latter before he would come back. He knew this because Hoseok always packed a bag only for the duration of his stay.
Second floor.
He was already making a mental list of what he would bring. Yoongi had never met Hoseok’s dance troupe, so that meant that Hoseok could stay at either of his hoobae’s places. Hoseok was filled with disappointment to realise that Yoongi had never even seen a single one of Hoseok’s dance performances, always giving excuses about having to be somewhere else, an essay to make, or a song to focus on and submit soon. Hoseok never thought that he minded, dance was his life, music was Yoongi’s. It just seemed as if the two were perfect for each other even though they contradicted each other at some points.
Third floor.
Hoseok wasn’t going to bother confronting Yoongi, mentally planned out rant now partially forgotten but not entirely since he might have to put in a few words if ever Yoongi does stop him. Key word being “if”. He was going to bring majority of his clothes, jeans, long-sleeves and underwear being some of the most important. September proved too cold this year, October creeping up as the time tinged the tree leaves a darker green, falling as bright orange. Hoseok would have to pack his running shoes more than anything too; it’s not like his street style matters right now. He thought of how the irony of its name applied to his situation. He needed running shoes, so he could run away from Yoongi. No that’s not it.
Fourth floor.
That’s not it at all.
Hoseok stepped out of the elevator, head held down, and his eyes wide and very confused as he stepped towards their apartment — no. Yoongi’s apartment. Hoseok had had enough now. He didn't want any more. He was so tired of being so in love with someone who returned his affections half-heartedly. It wasn’t fair, the more Hoseok thought about it, the more he realised it was never fair in the first place. His steps fell heavy and Hoseok could hear his weight shift with every single one he took closer towards the door. His chest constricted, as if his heart found its way right behind his sternum and was banging on it for freedom. Even though it hurt Hoseok’s heart to even think about this, he was doing what was best for him.
He swallowed down the lump in his throat, his heart hammering now. Hoseok reached for his key in his back pocket and stuck it in, it felt like a stab in the chest, a knife twisting in his gut as he turned it in the lock. He could hear the television through the walls that separated his home for the past two years from the outside world. With fear flowing through his bloodstream, he took out his key and reburied it in the fabric he took it out of. His sweaty palm made the doorknob seem like it wouldn’t budge but Hoseok managed to turn it anyway.
Hoseok couldn’t see into the living room entirely, just a portion of the couch’s rear took up a frame of the little hallway while the kitchen counter stood parallel to it. He bent down and was just about to take off his shoes when he realised he wouldn’t be staying for long, and he shouldn’t be giving Yoongi ample time to convince him otherwise. Hoseok straightened himself, his steps still as heavy as before but a lot gentler than those in the hallway. He emerged into the living room to see Yoongi sprawled out on the couch, his head rested on his open palm with his elbow propped up on the cushion, watching reruns of some show Hoseok knew he was never interested in to begin with.
“Hey Yoongi” Hoseok greeted monotonously, his voice void of all emotion except sadness and palpable disappointment in the older man.
Hoseok didn’t even get a comprehensive response, just a grunt that reverberated from Yoongi’s throat as his eyes never left the TV. Hoseok scoffed, smiling humourlessly as he rolled his eyes and made his way towards their bedroom—Yoongi’s bedroom. Once there, he dug for his largest duffel bag at the back corner of the little four-walled closet and began to gather the things he deemed necessary for his departure.
He didn’t understand. Three years. Three years together and Yoongi still treated Hoseok like dirt; dirt that he would tolerate more than anyone else anyway. Hoseok wanted to see that as something good, he wanted to look at that and see how Yoongi cared for him more than the average friend; why else would Yoongi tell him he loved him? Why would Yoongi say he felt the same towards Hoseok? Why would they have wasted three years of their lives together if Yoongi never reciprocated what Hoseok felt for him…. right?
Hoseok was failing to see clearly, physically. He didn’t want to wipe the tears away because if he did, he would’ve wasted precious seconds of gold. Time was money, it was freedom, and it was something Hoseok couldn’t afford to lose any more. He shook his head to get the saltwater out of his eyes, staining his cheeks with them as he did so. His watch ticked away on his wrist, taunting him to move faster, insulting him for being too slow, for being weak because he wanted Yoongi to walk in and see him crying as he packed his bags. Hoseok didn’t know what he wanted anymore, but he knew that leaving Yoongi was something that he needed to do for both their sakes.
Shoving his clothes in by the pair, his sweatpants bundling up on themselves as he threw them in and forced them to fit, he would have to change his shoes instead of packing them. He vaguely realised that all of his things couldn’t fit in just one bag or two so he’d have to come back for the rest. Hoseok was about to curse himself for being irresponsible like this and inevitably forcing himself to see Yoongi again, but then he realised that there was a piece of metal identical to the one Yoongi had, sitting in his back pocket. Hoseok just needed to know when Yoongi would be out so he could get whatever was left of his stuff. He let out a breath as relief washed over him for a split second before he remembered what he was doing; he stopped the tears… he had to.
When the article of clothing he tried to keep shoving into the bag wouldn’t fit anymore, Hoseok cursed under his breath and reached for another pack. He shoved in everything else he needed that wouldn’t fit into the initial parcel and carried on trying to even his breathing out.
This was it. Hoseok wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stop him. His hyungs never liked Yoongi for Hoseok in the first place, even if they were all friends. They were just too different to work and it surprised his elders that they even lasted this long. Hoseok let out a humourless laugh, thinking bout all the times he held pride in his smile when they would tell him so. Then out of nowhere, he was done packing.
He stared at the two bags that carried everything he would need from then on; only containing clothes, necessities. No pictures, books, or memoirs of any sort could be found inside; he didn’t need those. Not anymore at least.
“What are you doing?”
Hoseok whipped his head around sharply, his eyes widened with fear and surprise to see Yoongi standing at the opening of the closet. “H-hyung”
“Hoseok-ah, what are you doing?” Hoseok could see Yoongi eyeing the bags he had just finished zipping up, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion and the desperation to understand. Yoongi didn’t get it, but then again, when did he ever?
“H-hyung, I” Hoseok couldn’t look at him, his eyes darting everywhere, anywhere but back to Yoongi. He was more affected by this than Hoseok expected him to be and Hoseok didn’t prepare himself for this. “H-hyung, I’m leaving”
“But” Yoongi didn’t understand “Why?”
Hoseok closed his eyes, remaining on his knees on the floor of the small compartment. For a split second he thought that Yoongi just might lock him in to keep him there. He scratched at the denim of his jeans, his throat turning scratchy and desiccate. What was he supposed to say? That he’d had enough? That Yoongi never loved him as much as Hoseok loved him? That this relationship wasn’t fair to begin with and the past three years of their lives together was a mistake? He should probably say all of those things, but Hoseok didn’t have it in him to do it. His voice didn’t have the strength to be anywhere audible and Yoongi had to ask him to say it again.
“I said,” Hoseok whimpered, tears building in his eyes once again as he brought his gaze up to meet Yoongi’s “I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi.”
Yoongi didn’t understand, Hoseok knew that. For so long the younger man had taught himself to take Yoongi’s bad attitude and excuses as something valid, knowing that Yoongi favoured him more than other people, that Hoseok was something significantly important to Yoongi compared to other people. But Hoseok didn’t want to be slightly different from the others, he wanted Yoongi to loved him whole-heartedly the way Hoseok did him, but he never got that; and without expectation of ever having that, Hoseok didn’t bother to ask for it anymore.
“I’m so tired, Yoongi.” Hoseok was crying now, his voice wavering as he spoke and struggled to see through the water. “I’m so tired of you letting me down and constantly telling me you’ll make it up to me but you never do.” He took in a breath “I’m so tired of being stood up, of being left in the air without and explanation and most importantly? I am so tired of having to convince myself that you love me when you don’t.”
Hoseok was chasing air now, tears falling relentlessly on his face as he looked up to see Yoongi; emotionless. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt and grabbed his bags as he stood up, uttering an ‘I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff later’ before he pushed past Yoongi and tried to get to the door. Hoseok had only set a foot out the doorframe of their bedroom when he felt a hand envelope tightly around his wrist. He stopped moving; his breathing slowed but remained as laboured as ever.
“Hoseok-ah”
No. He wasn’t going to let Yoongi play the pity card; Hoseok had had enough of understanding him. He was too tired. He had wasted so much time, so much of his life on someone who didn’t return his feelings just as strongly. No. Yoongi wasn’t going to win this one.
“Yoongi; please let me go.”
Hoseok thought that Yoongi actually considered it, maybe even almost did do as he asked when he felt Yoongi’s hold loosen slightly, but it only held on tighter as Yoongi said “No.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi.” Hoseok forced his voice to keep strong, he forced himself; if he wanted to leave this apartment in one piece then he had to have some will. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re staying, Hoseok-ah. This is your home.” Yoongi had stepped closer; Hoseok’s wrist now in between both of the latter’s hands. He pressed his chest to Hoseok’s back and the younger swore his knees almost buckled beneath him. “When have I ever asked you for anything?”
That struck a nerve. How dare he?
“How dare you?” Hoseok turned, dropping his bags on the floor and ripping his wrist out of Yoongi’s hold. Yoongi had asked too much from Hoseok in the past three years without once giving anything back. Hoseok seldom asked for anything but whenever he did, it was always something that mattered immensely to the younger man. Yoongi was inconsiderate and selfish, Hoseok told him so.
“I’m sorry, that I’ve been an asshole but I—“
“You think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it, Yoongi? Three years of my life wasted on your bullshit?”
Yoongi was at a loss for words, he didn’t know what to say. Hoseok had never been this angry, so angry to the point that Yoongi couldn’t sweet talk him into calming down and this was an entirely new and foreign situation to him.
“Hoseok” Yoongi mumbled, his voice going soft “Baby—“
“No! Fuck you, Yoongi!” Hoseok shouted, taking a step back as he jabbed a finger at Yoongi’s chest to enunciate his point. “You don’t get to fucking ‘baby’ your way out of this! I’m so fucking done with you and I can’t take it anymore!”
Hoseok was shocked to see Yoongi tearing up. Yoongi never cried. Hoseok was always the one responsible for the waterworks in their relationship but finally getting to see Yoongi’s emotions show through was almost enough for Hoseok to give this another chance. Almost.
“I’m sorry, hyung.” He whimpered, voice shaking continuously as his tears kept falling. “I’ve had enough and I can’t take it anymore.”
Hoseok stared at Yoongi as the elder began to mirror his tear-stained face, he didn’t know what to say anymore. Was there anything else? Yoongi didn’t understand, and Hoseok had enough of it. It was time they went their separate ways and severed the relationship the way they should’ve done a long time ago.
Looking at Yoongi now, tears staining his cheeks as he asked Hoseok—told Hoseok to stay with him, the younger had to force himself to believe that what he was doing was the right thing.
He bent to pick up the bags he had dropped, not even halfway down before Yoongi kicked them a little out of his reach. Hoseok could hear him sniffle, he didn’t want to look up at him, he knew it would only hurt more and waste even more time. He bent further, trying to reach them once again but Yoongi kicked them as he did before, but stronger; sending them a ways away from Hoseok.
The younger heaved a sigh, his back ached from the suspension but his heart hurt more from the last three years and the events of the night.
“Baby, I’m sorry” Yoongi said, forcing himself to sound strong even though his voice wavered from his tears and he just wanted to break down in hopes Hoseok would see how genuine he was being. Hoseok stood straight, met by Yoongi’s face covered in fresh tears. “I’m sorry I’ve been so shit to you. I’m sorry that I’ve wasted three years of your life by not telling you I love you, but goddamnit Hoseok, I love you. So fucking much. But I am too fucked up in the head to be anything relatively good to you. I’m so sorry I’ve treated you to badly and I know I always ask things of you and never do anything for you but please… I know. God. I know you’ve wanted to leave so many times but please… please, please just this once… please stay.”
Yoongi was rambling, Hoseok realised midway. Blinking back the tears that were nuisance to him and his feelings but they made Hosoek all the more assure that Yoongi was being genuine and that at some point, he cared the way Hoseok always wanted him to.
But even with such a confession; Hoseok had decided to stay with Yoongi—for Yoongi, too many times in the past, this wasn’t enough to make him stay again.
New tears made themselves known, Hoseok cried with Yoongi as he had been doing the entire time the night dragged on. His chest constricted, his heart banging against the inside of his sternum once again as it screamed to be closer to the older man. So many things that Hoseok wants to do, with only one thing he should do.
But he figured one of the things he wanted would prove important enough.
He stepped towards Yoongi, the pale boy’s lip quivered as Hoseok cupped his face. He stared into Yoongi’s eyes, looking for any sort of indication that Yoongi was holding back, but all he found was remorse; a lot of it.
“I love you, Hoseok” Yoongi whispered, his hands rising to overlap the younger’s. The patterns of their breathing became identical, shallow and uneven. They struggled for oxygen on their own accords but not even that could stop Hoseok from leaning forward ever so slowly. Yoongi’s eyes closed; the small cries that came from him muted slightly but not entirely. As Hoseok pressed their lips together, the taste of salt and iron stained their tongues.
Their kiss was chaste, gentle but firm, an innocent press that told Yoongi everything Hoseok had told him before, but a desperate press that also told Hoseok everything Yoongi never said.
Yoongi’s arms wrapped around Hoseok’s waist, an attempt to keep Hoseok with him for longer, a last opportunity to hold Hoseok like this. Hoseok thought of deepening the kiss, savouring everything he could with Yoongi before he’d leave him, and everything they’ve shared behind.
But he didn’t.
He just kept Yoongi’s bottom lip between his own with enough pressure to tell Yoongi that Hoseok loved him. That Hoseok loved him so much and just enough to let Yoongi go.
He tried to pull back only to have Yoongi chase after his lips in blind desperation. Hoseok felt Yoongi trying to hold back his cries so he could kiss Hoseok properly, but the younger man still felt his whimpers voice through. Hoseok knew that Yoongi was trying to convince him to stay, make things work and sort everything out.
But Hoseok knew better.
They eventually had to separate for air, much to Yoongi’s heartbreak as Hoseok rested their foreheads together, breathing slowing down to a certain pace before Yoongi couldn’t stop himself from sniffling. Hoseok tried to smile through the pain of separating from Yoongi like this. Their relationship was all they had known for the past three years and finally giving up on it was tearing Hoseok apart from the inside out, seeing Yoongi like how he was right now; desperate and afraid, made Hoseok think that the older man was in just as much pain as he was… maybe more.
“Yoongi-ah” Hoseok whispered, his eyes still closed and his forehead still against Yoongi’s as the term of endearment rolled through his lips. The next few words proved a struggle to him as he tried to formulate the words. Straight to the point but gentle were what Hoseok was aiming for when he asked; “Why’d you stand me up tonight?”
Yoongi began to cry again, his face wobbled slightly in Hoseok’s warm hands as the younger tried to soothe him by rubbing his thumbs over Yoongi’s cheeks to wipe his tears away.
Hoseok was afraid of his answer, but regardless what it was, it wouldn’t change his decision of leaving.
Yoongi stuttered, clutching to Hoseok’s shirt tightly as if it could hold him together than he could do so himself. His tongue unable to form coherent words, twisted in on itself as Yoongi tried to speak.
“I— I” he clenched his eyes shut tighter, removing himself from Hoseok only to envelope the latter’s torso in his hold, nuzzling his tear-stained face into Hoseok’s neck but Hoseok was too emotional to care. “Hobi, p-please stay. I didn’t come because I had a s-song to finish, I wanted to I really did but it c-couldn’t wait and I was too p-proud to call you to c-cancel, I’m so s-sorry. Please s-stay.”
Hoseok wanted to be angry, just like he was when he walked here, just like he’d been trying not to be for so long but all he felt was disappointment; in Yoongi. He unravelled his arms from around Yoongi’s shoulders, the other’s hands still gripping at the fabric of Hoseok’s waist. He wiped away Yoongi’s tears, succeeded by his own.
He smiled, a tight stretch of muscle that Yoongi knew Hoseok forced for his sake as he reached for Yoongi’s hands and removed them, holding them gently in his own between them.
“Hyung,” Hoseok said, voice levelled out and his eyes red “Yoongi… I love you.” And I know I always will “but if we really are for each other, then we’ll find our way back to each other one day.” Yoongi wanted to protest, but Hoseok wasn’t finished. “When we’re better people”
Hoseok could see water brimming in Yoongi’s eyes again, before the elder could say anything; he had turned and grabbed his bags, stalking towards the front door and leaving Yoongi all alone.
Hoseok had barely gotten the door open when Yoongi ran after him, clutching him and forcing Hoseok’s back to Yoongi’s chest.
“Please” Yoongi whispered, “Just this once.”
Hoseok did his best to bite down the urge to submit, leave his bags there and hold Yoongi in the bed they’d shared every night for the past hundreds. He didn’t want to say anything more; he’d wasted enough breath and time already. So even though this was as painful as it was going to get, Hoseok shook Yoongi off him; struggling slightly when he tried to follow him out the door.
Hoseok bit his lip to keep his sobs in when he heard Yoongi crying for him. It took everything in Hoseok to keep walking, unsure that Yoongi wouldn’t run after him if he took the elevator; so he took the stairs to keep himself moving.
With one last glance over his shoulder, he saw Yoongi on his knees in silent tears, uttering Hoseok’s name meshed together with his please for the younger to stay and give him another chance. But Hoseok couldn’t afford another chance. Hoseok loved Yoongi endlessly, but just this once—he had to put himself first.
//
Yoongi knew he’d lost him; that he had fucked up for the last time and now Hoseok was done with it. Hoseok was done with him and Yoongi knew that he wasn’t going to come back.
He stayed on his knees, crying into himself as his hands pulled at the roots of his hair. He didn’t understand why he was like this, why he had been so irresponsible and emotionally detached for so long even with the one person in his entire world that made him feel otherwise.
Hoseok had given him everything he needed and more, giving so much yet asking for so little and Yoongi couldn’t even give him the slightest form of effort. Yoongi looked back on their years together, all the dance competitions that he’d missed, the birthdays he had taken for granted, and the dates he had stood Hoseok up; tonight included. Along with all of these, he thought of all the rap battles that Hoseok had supported him at, the finals weeks that Hoseok had taken care of Yoongi and never asked for anything back, the surprises that Hoseok had thrown and planned for Yoongi on various occasions and he felt a twist in his gut; similar to a twin-bladed knife being twisted from the inside of his stomach.
Yoongi was sick, he was disgusted with himself for how he treated Hoseok and tonight was the turning point he told himself he was going to change, but as he remained unmoving at the open doorway; it was crystal clear that Hoseok no longer had any chances to give him.
His head hurt, a pulse-like sensation bouncing off the insides of his skull had seemed to create some kind of high-pitched ringing in his ears. It had been too long since he had a panic attack, the pins and needles in his hands, face and ears all seemed too foreign that it terrified him. But if Yoongi wasn’t determined enough to keep Hoseok with him, he was determined to earn him back; starting with not letting his own demons be the reason why Hoseok would stay with him out of pity.
He rose from his position, his back arching slightly from his developed slouch, and tried to breathe properly. Inhaling through his nose, holding his breath for a short period of time and thereafter exhaling through his mouth as his shoulders relaxed and slumped with him; he stared at the portion of stairs that he could eye from down the hall, mere seconds ago Hoseok was there, minutes ago Hoseok was here, days ago Hoseok was with him, yet now, Hoseok was gone.
Yoongi could feel himself started to cry again, but he shook his head, making his headache worse as he forced himself to have some self-control. He groaned, rising off his knees and straightening himself before he shut the door and locked it, walking back inside to lie in a lonely bed; the one that he used to share.
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