#yoonseok net
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did he really just- he really just- he just-
#networkbangtan#armiesnet#noonanet#sugasnet#yoonseok net#thebutterflytrashteam#the butterfly trash team#mygifs#my gifs#bts#ë°Šëšěë
ë¨#yoongi#min yoongi#suga#agustd#bon voyage season 2
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iâm just glad youâre around âź
summary: a sleep-deprived and beyond exhausted brain isn't the best at remembering things, like the weekly movie night hoseok has with his roommate every thursday. [ wc: 2k ]
pairing: Jung Hoseok | J-Hope x Min Yoongi | Suga // SOPE MY BELOVED
tw: none!
a/n: happy reverse bday gift from me to you! feedback appreciated, can send here or comment on ao3 <33
song pairing: every time around - vansire
-- â read it here on ao3! â
#sope#sope fic#sope au#bts fanfiction#bts fluff#yoonseok#yoonseok fanfiction#yoonseok fic#bts ff#bts ffs#jung hoseok x min yoongi#suga x jhope#armiesnet#once again asking how those -net tags work#theas originals#thea talks bangtan#theas on ao3
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yoonseok #10 "come over here and make me"
âPlease?â
âCome over here and make me.â
âYoongi, for goodness sake, you look adorable no matter what you wear, can you please just put on the wig and come out?â
Hoseok knows this isnât enough to convince a pouting Yoongi who is sitting cross legged on the bedroom floor, full length pink dress haphazardly draped over his delicate frame, bright red wig cast aside so that it looked like a sad cat that refused to move.
âNope,â Yoongi says adamantly, eyes fixed on Hoseok standing at the entrance of the bedroom door in stubborn resilience. Hoseok sighs, leaning against the door frame.
âBaby, itâs Halloween,â Hoseok says soothingly, âweâre supposed to dress up.â
âWeâre not obligated to conform to societies expectations of our outfit choices for one randomly assigned night of the year,â Yoongi says and Hoseok crosses his arms and grins. Yoongi loves using big words to get his way out of doing things he didnât like. Not that it ever worked on Hoseok, though.
âCmon babe, how are we supposed to give the neighborhood kids candy if we donât dress up as the wholesome gay couple next door?â
Yoongi considers this for a moment before jutting his lip out at Hoseok and Hoseok thinks itâs cute, how Yoongi acts like heâs the toughest five feet nothing to walk the block to the whole world, but with Hoseok, Yoongi is suddenly a six year old, needy, whining and always wanting more attention.
âLetâs trade costumes then,â Yoongi suggests for the millionth time and Hoseok rolls his eyes.
âYoongi, weâve been over this. We decided Iâd be Spiderman and youâd be Mary-Jane four weeks ago. My costume isnât even going to fit you, babe.â
âI canât believe I agreed to this,â Yoongi grumbles and Hoseok laughs.
âDude, you wanted to be Mary-Jane last month. You asked for the red wig and everything.â
âWhat kind of person calls his husband âdudeâ?â
âWhat kind of husband goes back on his word?â
âThe kind that was very tipsy and would have agreed to shoving a whole pineapple up my ass to get you to fuck me that night,â Yoongi snaps back without a trace of embarrassment.
âGod, Yoongi, itâs just a costume. Iâm literally wearing a latex skintight thing that makes me look like I crawled out of Satanâs asshole. Itâs itchy and itâs embarrassing but Iâm doing it.â
âThereâs a difference,â Yoongi yells and Hoseok cocks an eyebrow. âYou look sexy enough to be edible in that costume and I look like I just ran out of a rancid jungle.â
âYoongi, I told you, you look perf-â
`âNope.â
âPlease?â Hoseok asks, running his hands through his hair in near-defeat, âplease be my fictional girlfriend? For one night?â
âCome over here and make me.â
Hoseok can tell Yoongi knows what heâs just asked for one second after it hits Hoseok and thereâs a quick grin on Yoongi lips he isnât quick enough to press down as Hoseok advances towards him in quick, long steps so that heâs suddenly two centimeters away from Yoongi expectant face.
âIf you put on the costume, Iâll make sure the neighbors know how grateful youâre gonna be you did tonight,â Hoseok says in a low voice and thereâs a satisfying visible shiver down Yoongiâs spine.
âSee me changed in five,â Yoongi says after clearing his throat in a monotone voice. Hoseok smirks and pecks Yoongiâs lips.
âMake it three.â
Yoongi doesnât argue.
otp drabble challenge
#i really didnt proofread im sorry dkhjkgh this is....trashy#yoonseok#yoonseok net#networkbangtan#btswriters#sobi#yoongi#hoseok#i really....forgot how to tag fics#yoonseokfic#sugafic#jhopefic
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Boy With Luv ⥠041925
#networkbangtan#hyunglinenetwork#yoongi-net#bts#btscreatorsnet#suga#min yoongi#yoongi#mygifs#yoonseok#sope
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just hobi things 11/?
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soothing melodies
pairing âš hoseok x yoongi
genre âš fluff
warnings âš none
chapter âš 1
words âš 924
summary âš Sometimes Hoseok can't sleep. It's a good thing he can always come to Yoongi.
just a short fluffy drabble for a dear friend ^*^ feel free to send me more prompts!
Hoseok knows the password to Yoongiâs studio and yet he knocksâtwo quick knocks, a pause, another threeâeach and every time. He says itâs because he doesnât want to disturb Yoongi, but they both know the truth.
Thereâs just nothing Hoseok finds cuter than Yoongiâs fake-frown. There was never a time it was real, because Yoongi always has time for Hoseok and heart-shaped smile.
âSeokkieee,â Yoongi draws out as he opens the door, the familiar lilt of faked annoyance clear in his voice. âItâs 3am. Shouldnât you be asleep? I know you had a few extra hours of practice today.â
âIâd say the same about you, hyung,â Hoseok says, following Yoongi inside. âAnd, unlike you, I actually had some sleep.â
Yoongi turns back to Hoseok and scans his tired posture. And truly, Hoseok is in his sleep clothes, hair ruffled and messy in a way it usually is in the morning. Thereâs an indent from a pillow on his left cheek and Yoongi reaches out to gently brush his knuckles against it. Hoseok leans into it, weary eyes closing for just a moment.
âNightmare?â Yoongi asks softly, the way he usually does when Hoseok barges into his studio, his room, his bed.
Hoseok nods and sits down on a gray sofa, pulling up his knees and a blanket around his shoulders. Yoongi returns to his desk.
âWorking on a new song?â Hoseok asks before yawning. Yoongi nods and presses play.
A soft melody fills up the room, slow and quiet at first, just a bare piano, and Hoseok closes his eyes, letting himself get swept up in it. Before he can get totally lost in the soft notes, the melody starts picking up in volume and thickness, other instruments joining it. Itâs both familiar and new and Hoseok struggles to place it. The instrumental quiets down as a voice joins it; itâs Yoongi. There are no words, just a gentle humming, a melody that beautifully harmonizes with the piano.
âOh,â Hoseok gasps and opens his eyes to Yoongi. Heâs leaning on his desk, cat-like intense eyes trained on Hoseok. Itâs a mystery how he looks so awake and alive at such an ungodly hour.
âYea,â Yoongi smiles at Hoseok, his gaze warming up into something much more tender. âDoes it sound good like this?â
âIt does, butââ Hoseok pauses and Yoongiâs smile freezes. âI think Iâd be even better if it was a duet,â he finishes with a grin and Yoongi laughs, relieved.
âMaybe when youâre a little more awake. Just maybe.â
Hoseok pouts and Yoongi turns away, hiding the ever growing fondness in his stare. The melody softly fades out and Hoseok sighs. Even being in the same room as Yoongi helps him calm down and breathe easier.
âPlay it again?â he asks, eyes only half open.
âIâll do something even better,â Yoongi says and Hoseok can hear his chair move. The piano plays again, but this time itâs the real deal, not a recording. Hoseok places his arms on one of the armrests and then his cheek on them, his legs still uncomfortably bent, too long for the couch, as he watches Yoongiâs fingers hit every right key.
There isnât and never has been a softer bed for Hoseok than being curled up on that tiny gray couch, watching Yoongiâs face relax as he starts singing to the music, low and quiet, still a little unsure.
Thereâs no better sound than the one of their voices mingling with the piano melody. One of Yoongiâs mouth corners lifts up as he harmonizes with Hoseok.
Eventually, Hoseok must have passed out, because Yoongiâs voice pulls him out of the dark.
âCome on,â he says and Hoseok sits up, every tiny particle of his body impossibly heavy. âYouâre gonna ache for the rest of tomorrow if you sleep here. Letâs go to my room.â
ââkay, hyung,â Hoseok mumbles and follows Yoongi, still fluttering between dream and reality, both hands holding onto one of Yoongiâs.
The bed pulls him into sleep in barely seconds. Itâs still enough for Hoseok to catch Yoongiâs half whispered melodies.
âA~ah, we sound so good, hyung!â Hoseok beams at Yoongi as the finished song flows through Yoongiâs studio.
âWe do,â Yoongi gives him a small, flustered smile, and if he hadnât turned his head at the right moment, Hoseok would have definitely squished his cheeks.
âWill you release it?â Hoseok asks but Yoongi shakes his head just a bit.
âI donât think so,â he says and leans forward to card his fingers through Hoseokâs hair. âBut you could, if you desire to do so. Happy birthday, Seokkie.â
âItâs not!â Hoseok laughs but Yoongiâs smirk has him turning around. The clock shows three minutes past midnight; itâs a surprise no one has burst into the small room.
âHyung,â Hoseok turns back to Yoongi, a trembling pout on his lips. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome,â Yoongi whispers, brushing a stray hair away from Hoseokâs eyes and leaning in, just a little bit. His lips part in a way that has Hoseok glancing down at them, tongue darting out to brush at his own.
âHoseok-ah!â Someone shouts from behind the door; itâs a flurry of hushes, loud laughter, and chaotic knocks. âWe found you!â
âWasnât hiding,â Hoseok sighs as Yoongi turns away to turn off the song. He catches him off-guard as he turns back, a quick peck that horribly misses Yoongiâs mouth and lands somewhere between his chin and cheek. Yoongi stares up at him with wide eyes as Hoseok laughs.
âComing!â
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Even honest feelings can be seen as a sign of treachery... LOL
#yoonseok#sope#yoonminseok-net#yoongi.net#armiesnet#min yoongi#min suga#min pd#jeon hoseok#jhope#j-hope#hobi#bangtan#bts#run#ep 47#flower boys#gif
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name a better duo????
#yoonminseok-net#hyunglinenetwork#armiesnet#btssunshinenet#yoongi#min yoongi#jung hoseok#jhope#hobi#yoonseok#bangtan#bts#bts vlive#my stuff#my vid#vid#sope
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twins
#btscreatorsnet#goldenduonetwork#hyunglinenetwork#raplinenetwork#yoonminseok-net#bangtanbuds#bts#yoonseok#sope#min yoongi#jung hoseok#mygifs
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Welcome to SPOTLIGHT! A social media AU in which the reader [Y/N] and Seokjin are rivals. One gets the SPOTLIGHT and the other is left in the dark. Do you know who will and who wonât? â¨[This is a ReaderXSeokjin AU. Also to be seen will be YoonSeok, Namkook and VMin. This will be updated every Sunday @ 2 PM GMT]
#btscreatorsnet#btsfaketext-net#kim seokjin fake texts#bts fake texts#kim seokjin#bts#Kim Seokjin imagines#bts imagines#Kim Seokjin fanfic#bts fanfic#yoonseok#namkook#vmin
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Inkarnate
Summary: Hoseok is a film student looking for muse, and Yoongi is a tattoo artist looking for money. When they meet, the two find that they could give each other far more than creativity and cash, but soulmate isnât spelled p.e.r.f.e.c.t, and Yoongiâs tattoos cover up more than just his skin.
Chapters: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11 -> read on Ao3
Genre: Soulmate! AU, Angst
Warnings: Swearing, implied alcoholism, implied past abuse, seriously a lot of angst, eventual smut, main character death.Â
Length: 9.8k
A/N: Sorry it took so long to post, everyone! The next couple of chapters will come more quickly, I promise. This is where the angst tag really starts coming into play, just as an fyi, but this may be one of my fave chapters so far. As ever, thanks for reading!
Grey and uncertain, the sky reflects Hoseokâs mood perfectly. Heâs grateful it isnât anywhere near as cold as it was last week, but the muted lighting makes it hard to keep alive the hope and positivity heâs keeping in his thoughts. Given that heâs made up his mind to listen to Yoongi, to try and understand where heâs coming from without the heavy weight of fear, he needs to keep himself optimistic. Bad enough that nervousness is fizzing in his stomach, making every step a challenge; he doesnât want to deal with doubts about this whole meeting on top of that.
There are a lot of people on the street, far, far more than usual â in fact, Skymont has been closed to traffic, and pedestrians spill onto the road. Jimin had told him to expect it, and it does makes sense; the festival officially opened an hour or so ago, so of course Skymont is flooded with the curious. A multitude of lights have been strung up, unnoticed during his last daylight visit, flung with hap hazardous glee over trees, street lights and buildings. They mostly lean towards soft blues and whites â the colour scheme of the festival â but the occasional splash of Christmas red and green makes for some blaring dashes among the softer shades. Everywhere he looks, there are signs for various activities, some taking place outside and some indoors. A bake sale, an ice sculpting contest, fireworks at twelve, warm drinks here and a costume contest there. Itâs overwhelming, but in a way that makes him grin.
He deliberately â of course â arrived really early, so he takes a few minutes to record some of the antics of the various people lining the road. Nothing fancy, just on his phone, but he likes catching a few seconds of an older man bringing a tray of hot coffees to his friends, kids hurtling snowballs at each other, a couple admiring the snowflake decorations of one of the stores. Itâs not until that same couple lean in to kiss that Hoseok stops, nearly dropping his phone in his haste to keep from getting the intimate moment in the shot.
His hot blush is fueled by embarrassment, but the spots of colour speak of something more uncomfortable, too, and he decides thatâs probably enough filming for the moment. Itâs close to the time to meet, anyways, and impatience is warring so fiercely with trepidation that heâs almost afraid heâll blink and find himself late by ten minutes or more. Unable to bear that particular scenario, Hoseok decides to thread through the crowds of people towards the Born Tiger.
He ends up being fifteen minutes early, but as it happens, that doesnât matter. A small form â with a thicker beanie and gloves, though in the same jean jacket â is lounging against the glass, the tiger art hovering over him. Someoneâs given the fierce striped beast a Santa Clause hat, complete with a little bell, and Hoseok canât tell if the addition is a decal or something else. Heâs a bit preoccupied, anyways, his previously urgent steps dragging into near stillness as he observes Yoongi.
The other man has his arms folded across his chest, is staring unmoving at the sidewalk. Hoseok doesnât know why he feels so certain that thereâs something strained and wild fighting in Yoongi â his quiet body gives no signs of turbulence â but the certainty is gut deep and it makes him wary. Wary and sad and worried. He just wishes he could figure out whatâs tearing the artist apart, so he could help him hold together.
Before heâs anywhere near Yoongiâs line of sight, the manâs head jerks up, his gaze unerringly snapping to where Hoseokâs abruptly halted. Hoseok searches his expression, tries to focus on his pale, welcoming smile â but he canât see anything beyond the two dark, sickly yellow splotches on his face. One, almost perfectly in the center of his forehead, is the size of a palm. The other, smaller but darker, a mottled collection of green and yellow, clings to his gaunt cheekbone and just skirts the edge of his eye. The bruises arenât anywhere near as bad as they must have been at first, but they still donât look great. And overall, Yoongi â he doesnât look like heâs eaten or slept much in the last week.
Hoseok finds his feet moving again, heart wrenching, and he practically stumbles over himself getting closer. âWhat happened to you?â he demands, his politely scripted greeting thrown out the window. Heâs seen bruises on Yoongi â the artist almost always has some collection of ghastly purple or faded yellow marks on his arms or legs â but never on his face before. It makes his sunken cheeks and wan skin stand out even more.
âYou should see the other guy,â Yoongi says, and when Hoseok starts scowling, raises his hands. âNo, Iâm kidding. I was in the dark a few nights ago, and tripped. Just hit my face on the side of a counter and then on the floor on my way down. It looks worse than it is.â
Given the colour of the bruises, Hoseok canât help but doubt that it happened a few nights ago. He believes that Yoongi could have fallen, but something tells him it was a week ago, last Friday night. Which would explain why Yoongiâs lying. His heart is beating too fast, too lightly, and the surge of concern has nearly wiped out his awkwardness â but not his anxiety. âYouâre okay though?â he asks tightly, skipping over the lie in favour of making sure of that.
The artist shrugs. âNo,â he replies, which makes Hoseokâs heart seize up altogether. Swallowing, Yoongi licks his lips before he meets Hoseokâs gaze. Itâs painful how hard he obviously has to work to manage it. âMy face is fine. Itâs just â uh, Iâve just missed you, Hobi. And Iâve been thinking about what I said, and how I â I really was an asshole. And how I should apologize for that. So this week has just been, uh⌠rough.â
Judging by his wretched condition, that seems like an understatement, but it summons such a wave of guilt and compassion that Hoseok is struck speechless â and the outright honesty doesnât help him summon any words, either. Yoongi ducks his head, his hand finding his neck. âSorry,â he mutters. âItâs not â you donât need to feel bad or anything. Itâs not your fault. I just⌠I didnât want to lie about it. Itâs kind of obvious, right?â He laughs hollowly. âEven some of my regulars commented, so I figured itâd be dumb to try to hide.â
âWhy⌠why would you hide it anyways?â Finally he manages to get his paralyzed tongue to move, and he even succeeds in making his voice soft despite wanting to shout the question.
Yoongi shifts his weight, mumbles something under his breath before his eyes pull back up. âBecause,â he says more clearly, âitâs kind of pathetic that I canât get my shit together, and I just thought itâd freak you out. So yeah, Iâm not really stoked to have to tell you.â
âItâs not pathetic, Yoongi.â His fierce rejection surprises even him, but Hoseok pushes on. âHaving a rough week doesnât make you pathetic, at all. And yeah, I donât like hearing that youâre not doing great, but it doesnât mean you shouldnât talk to me! Iâm glad you told me, I want you to tell me about it. Thatâs â seriously Yoongi, thatâs all I want. I want to hear about your problems and I want to help you fix them and I want you to stop shutting me down every time I try.â The words spill out of him in quick agitation, pulled by Yoongiâs bruises, by his mere presence.
By Hoseokâs realization that heâs so, so glad to be near Yoongi again, and that he doesnât want to have to leave.
âWow.â Theyâre standing close together, the space of moments before forgotten, and Yoongi breathes a shaky laugh. âI had a plan for getting to this part of the conversation, you know. It was supposed to be in like an hour, after we talked about your exams and I made fun of Taeâs pet cactus.â
Theyâve completely hurtled off the script, the wild rush of emotion boiling over, but Hoseok doesnât care. Even his anxiety is drained, leaving only a hot determination to â as Namjoon said â shake some sense into the artist. âI was at least supposed to say hey before I started giving you hell, right? But, uh â I dunno where to fit in my own apology now.â
That puts a furrow between Yoongiâs eyebrows. âYour apology?â
âYeah. Youâre definitely not the only one. Iâm sorry for calling you an, uh, asshole, and Iâm sorry for caring more about the feelings of some person Iâve never met than yours. I â Iâve been thinking about this, and I guess I shouldnât care so much if I have a soulmate or not. You were right. I⌠I wanted something thatâs easy. That I can have without anything complicated being involved. ButâŚâ He trails off, fumbling futilely for the right thing to say.
Yoongi tilts his head, his eyes a swirl of dark ink drawing light. âSometimes,â he proposes softly, âif shit is too easy, itâs not really worth having.â
âYeahâŚâ Hoseok takes a deep breath. âSomething like that. Iâm not â I canât lie and say Iâm totally cool with this thing.â His hand presses to his chest, indicating the currently obscured marking. âI mean, itâs been looking weird and wilting and dropping petals all week and Iâm kind of scared of what that means for whoeverâs on the other side.â
The inhalation from the other man is so sharp it makes him jump a little, and Yoongiâs blanched face does even more to set his heart jolting. âWhat?â he asks hurriedly, his concerns about his soulmate forgotten in a sudden spike of panic. âAre you okay? You lookââ
âIâm fine,â Yoongi cuts in, and indeed colour is rapidly flooding back into his skin in the form of a flush. âI⌠actually got a new tattoo this week, and I put too much pressure on it. Thatâs all.â
âWah, really?â His empathy isnât quite buying that Yoongi isnât in pain â thereâs something distinctly unsettled about the artist â but he thinks itâs probably just a face-saving show. âWhatâd you get? Where?â
Yoongi clasps the inside of his forearm, right below his elbow. âItâs just â a sun. Yâknow⌠round. A sun.â
That is so distinctly undescriptive that Hoseok raises an eyebrow. âDid it go well? Do you like it? Can I see it?â
âNot right now,â Yoongi snaps, and then visibly forces himself to relax. âSorry. Itâs just healing right now, with the scabs and â you know, damn ugly. Probably better if you see it later. I do think it went well, though.â He pauses, his gaze turning reflective. âI⌠guess I like it, too. At least, I think it was something I needed.â Another pause, and then he exhales. âDo you wanna walk? Thereâs this side street thatâs hosting an art galley kind of thing that might be cool to look at. I did promise to show you the best parts of the festival, you know.â
âI remember,â Hoseok says, and he canât help but smile, just a little. âWith the video and the apology and the invitation.â
Gloved hand covering his face, Yoongi groans. âFuck, that was pretty stupid, wasnât it? I just ââ
âIt wasnât stupid. It was actually kind of cute. Clever, too. I mean, the lighting was terrible, and I donât know what the director was thinking with that camera angle, but the script made it pretty good. Plus, the actor wasnât hard on the eyes.â He laughs at Yoongiâs growl, and barely feels it when the other punches him on the shoulder.
There it is again. The vertigo of falling, without the terror of the eventual crash. All tingling weightlessness and heart-in-throat exhilaration. Like dancing but with less tangible effort. He hasnât even really discussed either of their issues, they havenât come to any kind of resolution, but every particle in Hoseokâs body is okay with that. It was easy to agonize over their differences and misunderstandings when he was away from Yoongi â itâs far, far easier to forget about them like this.
And then forget that this is falling, and not flying.
He sets his teeth, reins in his laughter. âWe do still need to talk, Yoongi.â
His friend â surprisingly â doesnât stop smiling, though the gummy grin does dim a little. âYouâre right. But letâs walk and talk, okay? And first, you should fill me in on how your exams went. We can grab some hot chocolate or something and take a look at all the shit that Namjoonâs worked so hard to pull together.â
Though he faintly suspects Yoongi is stalling, theyâve got at least a couple more hours together. Plenty of time to get through the hard stuff, and frankly, Hoseok isnât exactly enthusiastic about beginning that, anyways. He agrees to the suggestion, and shortly finds himself being pulled through the packed streets, Yoongi clinging to his hand to âmake sure he doesnât get lost in all the useless people.â His grip doesnât loosen even in areas where the crowds thin, but Hoseok finds that he doesnât mind at all.
The first stop is a food vendor â there are at least twenty of them spread out on Skymont â that Yoongi claims is his favourite, and it shortly becomes clear why. The man behind the stand makes an assortment of simple, hot drinks, and about half of the menu happens to be alcoholic. Yoongi gets a spiced Irish coffee, and Hoseok tries out hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua. Itâs pleasingly sweet, and as their pace slows down a little to enjoy the drinks, Hoseok talks meanderingly about the last week. Heâs careful to avoid speaking about how heâd plunged into studying to avoid the bleakness saturating everything he looked at. He doesnât mention the way his mood had plummeted so badly it was like everything turned grey.
He keeps to lighter topics, but somehow, in the way Yoongiâs gaze lingers on him, he thinks the other man knows. Itâs a relief to push through that area of discussion and start talking about other things as they come to the art show. Â Â Â Â Â Â
The makeshift gallery is outside, set up on one of the smaller streets branching from Skymont. The sidewalkâs been studiously swept clean of snow and other debris, and pale cloth drapes across the buildings, forming a roof that shelters the little avenue. Lights are evident here, too, some of them the blue and white of the festival but mostly brighter lamps that cast warm illumination over all of the art pieces. Yoongi explains it was a toss up whether theyâd have it outside or not, but with the weather report showing no signs of snow or rain, it was decided that outside would be better. Hoseok agrees. Thereâs something breathtaking about stepping into the sheltered but open street, about being removed from the frantic hustle of the rest of the festival.
There arenât as many people here, and Skymont employees keep the peace, asking everyone not to run but otherwise giving people free rein. As they approach the nearest stand, a couple of erected walls hung with paintings, Hoseok asks, âDonât you have any examples of your tattoos set up here, Yoongi?â
âActually, yeah,â his companion says with a grimace. âTheyâre further on. Jin hyung made me put the collection together â even paid for someone to stand around, since I wasnât going to. I guess itâs good for advertising or something. Itâs just the usual, though, nothing special.â
âFor someone incredibly talented, you sure say âjustâ a lot,â Hoseok observes idly, his eyes on the gallery. This first installation is themed on natural destruction, most of the paintings incorporating rockslides, tornadoes, waves and the like.
Yoongi seems drawn to a painting of a wildfire, the brilliant tongues of red and orange so vivid Hoseok can practically feel the heat devouring the trees. His companion stares at it for awhile before he says, âDo I really use it that much?â
âMmhm. All the time. Usually to make it seem like whatever youâre saying isnât important.â Theyâre at a strangely calm point, almost but not quite detached from each other, and it makes it easier to point out something thatâs been bothering him for as long as heâs known Yoongi. The other man wields âjustâ like an ax, and itâs always himself that heâs cutting down. âA lot of your stuff really isnât just the usual, yâknow.â
Glancing at Hoseok sidelong, Yoongi snorts, âSays the expert whoâs never had a tattoo before.â
âYah, I thought about it when I was younger, seriously! Do you know how much it would have pissed off my parents? I looked at a ton of them back then. Besides, I have a good eye for that stuff.â
âSure, sure. Anyways, my tattoos are okay, I guess, but theyâre not the best. I justââ
âThere, see?â
ââŚI just donât think theyâre a big deal,â Yoongi finishes pointedly, and they begin to wander from the first stand. Itâs not only paintings or drawings on display; there are sculptures, glasswork, jewelry and other more exotic exhibitions, and Yoongi chooses one of the craftwork examples to look at next.
While considering a little flower made by folding and crumpling tissue paper, Yoongi looks over at him. âIs this one of those talking points weâre both looking forward to?â
It takes Hoseok a moment to realize what he means; when he does, he shrugs. âI dunno. I guess⌠can I ask why you donât like saying any of your stuff is good?â
His long fingers are strikingly delicate as they pick up the flower, and Yoongi hardly seems aware of the man hovering on the other side of the table. Still gentle, the artist turns the flower so that light shines through the thin tissue paper, changing the colour just a little. âI donât really know. I mean⌠look at my life, Hobi. Especially up until recently, I was some poor fuck who didnât even graduate. At least half of my friends had seen the inside of a jail cell, and so had I. I hated my parents and pretty much everyone else, too. What good could possibly come from that? Yeah, I got really lucky with Malsoon and Jihong, but the tattooing? Thatâs their work, not mine. They were better teachers than any of the assholes in my old school, but thatâs them, not me.â
He falls silent, puts the flower carefully back on the table before looking at a small scene, also created from tissue paper. Itâs set in a shoe-box sized display and depicts the sun rising over a blue ribbon of water, with painstakingly detailed fields of green spreading out on either side. âYou donât talk about them â Malsoon and Jihong â very often,â Hoseok observes quietly, sensing that now isnât the time to disagree with Yoongiâs critical evaluation of his life.
âNo, I donât,â Yoongi says. âMalsoon would like this thing. She always bought stuff with nature and she liked rivers a lot. She â I guess I could buy it for her. Send it her way. Itâd be a stupid gift but maybe sheâd like it.â
âSo, theyâre still alive?â He hadnât even known that much. The few times Yoongiâs mentioned the people who essentially adopted him, heâs always referred to them in past tense, and theyâve never come around the store they used to own. To be honest, heâd assumed they were dead, but the way Yoongiâs face tightens makes it obvious itâs not a happy story even if theyâre alive.
âMalsoon is. Jihong⌠is not. About two and a half years ago he had a heart attack.â The small man swallows before continuing. âIt took a long time, for it to... happen. Used up most of their money on medical bills before he died. Malsoon⌠she lost it. Not â she didnât go crazy. I mean â she just stopped enjoying anything. She stopped drawing, stopped doing tattoos⌠And a few months later she decided to move. Said that she couldnât bear to be where he used to be, feeling his ghost all the time.â His shoulders hunch. âThey werenât soulmates, but⌠they kind of were. They used to joke about giving each other bonded tattoos all the time, just through the sheer power of will⌠and maybe with the help of an irons â a tattoo machine, I mean. That was the joke, right?â The smile on his face is achingly sad, and it fades quickly. âNot soulmates, and his death still ripped something out of her. So she left the parlour to me... and then she was gone.â
He feels like heâs walking on the thin ice of Yoongiâs grief, but heâs not going to leave his friend stranded in a frozen field. âIâm sorry, Yoongi. So sorry. Do you two still talk?â
âSometimes. A few times a year. Neither of us can really afford to fly out to visit each other, though, so itâs just shitty phone calls.â He hesitates, his eyes still on the wispy river. Eventually he admits, âI miss her. Both of them. Losing them, and then with all the other shit right after⌠It was a lot. After â after I did something stupid, the doctor said I needed to get out. Join the community. He knew Jin hyung, introduced us, and it kind of snowballed from there. Suddenly I was on a committee, I had shit to do, and feeling bad for myself wasnât as easy.â
Yoongi doesnât expand on what the other shit he mentioned is, or what stupid thing he tried to do, but it sends cold tendrils cascading across Hoseokâs skin, raising violent goosebumps. He can imagine well enough, and the thought makes a desperate, panicked breathlessness seize his throat. On impulse he reaches out, catches Yoongiâs hand in his own. âYou got through it, though,â he says fervently, and even through the gloves itâs almost like he can feel his companionâs warm wave of gratitude. âYouâre still here! And thatâs â man Yoongi, thatâs so cool. Thatâs not âjustâ anything; it takes strength to be where you are now. To keep tattooing and doing the thing you love for so many people.â
When Yoongi ducks his head, the motion is almost shy. âI couldnât give it up,â he mumbles. âJihong⌠he liked it so much. Malsoon too. Not just making shit, but the people, too, yâknow? All their regulars, and hell, even the tenderfoots getting their first one. They liked getting it right, and they taught me that on top of everything else.â
Heâs not sure what to say. âThey sound like really awesome people.â
âThey were,â Yoongi agrees simply. âBetter than my parents ever were, too.â He doesnât let go of Hoseok but runs his free hand through his hair. âYou wanna keep walking?â
âYeah. You gonna buy Malsoon that?â he asks with a nod at the fragile paper scene.
Yoongi is already turning away. âNah,â he says, and the blatant effort to shrug off his emotions is heart rending. âIt was a stupid idea, anyways.â Hoseok finds himself pulled away before he can protest, but he glances over his shoulder one last time before theyâre on to the next stand.
Metal sculptures of twirling shapes, wood carvings of fiercely realistic animals, blown glass and copper etchings, oil paintings and shadow art, they blur by in an extended flash of breathless wonder and the more grounded reality of hesitantly traded thoughts and history. Threaded throughout their slow roaming, Hoseok pulls out confessions from Yoongi, things that make him wonder if itâs really possible to hurt so much for another person. Things about his parents and alcohol and raised fists and voices, things too bleak to look at head on. He can only point out everything Yoongiâs done since then, all of the incredible progress heâs made, and hope itâs enough.
In turn, in diffident spurts, he finds himself talking about his sister, whoâs always been better than him in his parentsâ eyes (and his own, too), about his parents themselves, growing further and further away. He talks about having money and never feeling like he actually wants what he buys, and how far that feeling set him apart from his family. Somehow, even as insignificant as they are to Yoongiâs troubles, the other man doesnât make him feel shallow or weak for being hurt by them. The artist talks about how, out of all the emptiness Hoseok felt, he still managed to fill other peoplesâ lives. About how much strength and kindness that would take. Somehow, Hoseok almost finds himself believing it.
They talk about lighter things, too. First crushes and last crushes and all the awkward dates in between. They laugh at stupid mistakes and great successes equally, and swap stories with an abandon that only grows as the night goes on. And somewhere between the lines Hoseok finds the answers heâs been looking for.
Yoongi doesnât want to hope. Heâs afraid to lose more than he already has. Hoseokâs never really had much of anything to be worth losing â until he met his friends â but he thinks he understands the tired man who trails along with him like a shadow. Itâs part of the reason heâs always recorded things. Itâs a lot easier to capture a moment, to make sure you donât lose it on film, than to try and feel all the emotions in the moment itself. Easier to keep the distance of a lens between yourself, to admire instead of risk the chance of being hurt.
Hoseokâs learned something from all those videos, though, something he thinks he needs to help Yoongi learn. Nothing â not the most expensive camera in the world, not the best director in the business â can wholly capture some of the deeper emotions that permeate all of the greatest moments. Thatâs the challenge, the joy of filmmaking; striving for perfection in a world without it. But at the end of the day, removing yourself from those moments, from the emotion, it doesnât make your own life better. It just takes all of the colour from it, until youâre standing there and the moment is gone and the only memories you have are grey.
Better to have a life of all the colours â even the painfully sharp ones â than to live in dull shading.
Itâs hardly a lesson to put on a blackboard; itâs hardly a lesson that Hoseokâs even grasped or tried to live himself. It stays at the back of his mind, though, an unpolished resolution that someway, somehow, over the course of months or years, Hoseokâs going to give Yoongi that thing heâs so dearly missing.
Heâs going to give him hope, and itâs not going to disappear.
By the time they get to Yoongiâs own display at the end of the street â and it takes them a good two hours, theyâre moving so slowly â a deep weariness has curled up in Hoseokâs chest, the outpouring of emotion wearing him thin. Their conversation has slowly sloped off, into a quiet contemplation of every thought they each offer, though Hoseok still finds himself talking the most out of the two of them. The sight of the tattooistâs collection strikes him to a momentary enthusiasm, however, and he rallies his energies. There are a couple of people observing the tacked-up photos and sketches, and he and Yoongi wind around them.
The girl minding the station recognizes Yoongi right away and beckons him to join her. With a wry grimace, he relinquishes Hoseokâs hand and goes to see what she wants, while Hoseok takes a look at some of the examples of Yoongiâs work. As his companion predicted, heâs seen most of the pieces already, though here and there a dazzling new example jumps from its page. The bold lines are just as catching now, the hundredth time around, as they were the first time he was exposed to them, and heâs still vaguely appalled the artist doesnât think his work is worthwhile.
One piece in particular catches his eye, and Hoseok wanders over to it. Itâs strangely familiar, although heâs certain heâs never seen it before. A circular shape punctuated by outward flames, he supposes âroundâ isnât an inaccurate description, but the gorgeous sun surely deserves more than that. Itâs a glowing white at the center, though the colour is so thickly wrapped with oranges and reds and yellows that they blend together. As the sun erupts outwards, a halo of jagged light surrounding it, the tones donât lose their bright intensity. The brilliance of the sketch is somewhat discomfiting to look at, and Hoseok finds himself fidgeting, transfixed in place until Yoongi comes back.
âThis is your new tattoo?â Hoseok asks as soon as the artist appears.
Yoongi barely glances at it. âYeah. One and the same. Iâm afraid the guy who did it might have fucked up a bit though; I donât know if the colours are going to be that bright.â
âItâll be cool, wonât it? If they turn out that crazy intense?â
Shifting, looking like he wants to be elsewhere, Yoongi shrugs. âI guess. Takes a shit ton of work to get colours like that, though. Not everyone can manage to bring them out right.â
Hoseok shakes his head, blinking, trying to dislodge the melancholic feeling from his throat. Thereâs something depressing about the thought of the real thing being some pale imitation of this sun, never quite reaching its brilliant potential, and heâs not in the mood to be depressed. âI bet it turns out just like that,â Hoseok says firmly. âBetter, even! Itâs not like you chose some hack to do your tattoo, right?â
âLetâs see how it turns out,â Yoongi says, his lips twisting. âThen Iâll decide if they were a hack or not.â
The gallery area closes at ten, darkness pressing hard against the sheltered area of light, and they end up grabbing another round of hot drinks and sitting at one of the tables sporadically dotting Skymont. The crowds have thinned significantly, but neither of them wants to strike out into the open spaces. Hoseokâs not positive, but he thinks he sees Jimin at one point, walking in the distance with his hands full of bags. Heâs even less sure, but he thinks Jimin sees him and Yoongi, too, and then precedes to flee as fast as his feet can take him in the opposite direction. His oldest friend had been thrilled when heâd heard Hoseok was going to meet with Yoongi, and had promised to kill anyone who tried to interrupt.
His pointed glower at Taehyung and Jungkook had been a little underwhelming, but Hoseok appreciated the sentiment all the same.
He and Yoongi donât sit for very long before his companion shifts, gaze going to the sliver of moon shining through the patchwork of dark clouds. âWere you going to drive home?â he asks suddenly.
âThat was the plan, yeah,â Hoseok says. âAlthough I had to park so far away with all of the people, itâs gonna take me like half a year to get to my car.â The complaint is good-natured â itâs not so cold out, and he doesnât mind walking â but Yoongiâs lips thin, and he rubs at his ear, a telltale sign that he wants to say something.
The student lets him go about it in his own time, and, just as abruptly as the first time, he says, âHavenât you drank too much? You could just stay at my place instead.â
Eyebrows jumping up, Hoseokâs eyes go uncertainly from his incredibly light drink â his second of the night, over the span of about three hours â and back to Yoongi. Who scowls. âYou could just play along,â he grumbles, puffing out his cheeks. âOkay, fine. Do you wanna stay at my place?â
His petulance makes Hoseok grin, but heâs inordinately pleased with the offer, and doesnât take the opportunity to tease. âSure, thatâd be good. Although I donât have any clothes or whatever.â
Yoongi stands up. âSâfine. You can borrow some of my shit.â The logistical soundness of that plan notwithstanding â theyâre not exactly on the same level, (literally) height-wise â Hoseok gets to his feet too, glad enough to go along with it. Heâs too drained to feel particularly anxious or excited, but his contented gratitude hovers close to the surface, and a thought suddenly occurs to him.
âDo you wanna go on ahead? I just remembered I saw something my sis might like, and I wanna go buy it.â
âYou canât wait until tomorrow?â Yoongi asks quizzically.
âItâs not like weâre gonna be waking up early. What if itâs gone when we come back?â Heâs not exactly a first-class liar, especially not about blatant stuff like this, and his smile feels more than a little forced.
Yoongi only stares at him for a moment longer before jerking his shoulders, so maybe heâs better than he thought. âOkay. Iâll leave the door open, so just come in.â
He turns to go and Hoseok calls loudly, âSee you in a bit!â Maybe a bit too loudly â a few people nearby turn to look at the sound â and Yoongi flushes. The other man doesnât quite manage to turn his grin into a scowl, though, and he actually waves after a brief hesitation. Then heâs walking away, and Hoseok waits until heâs a decent distance away before dashing off in the opposite direction.
Most of the galleryâs lights have been turned off, but some sellers are still around, packing up their art, and Hoseok is thrilled to see the man he needs is still there. They have a quick conversation, the man unpacks the piece Hoseok requests, and then Hoseok is reverently tucking it close to his body. Â He pays for it, says goodbye and is off, long strides eating up the pavement. His excitement is sailing through his nerves, eager with the prospect of seeing the look on Yoongiâs face, and it makes the walk down Skymont a short one.
Constantly moving, unable to contain the energy, he pushes into the Born Tiger, where lights are shining from the upstairs. Locking the door behind him, Hoseok bounds up the stairs and spills into the connecting hallways between the two spaces on this floor. The kitchen is empty, and he finds Yoongi laying out blankets and pillows on the couch in the living room. Caught by a brief fist of indecision, he halts just outside the room. Somewhat to his surprise, the familiar nervousness is stripped away almost as soon as it appears, just as soon as he reminds himself that Yoongi will appreciate this.
With that thought, heâs back in motion, his hand behind his back, and anyways, Yoongi notices him and straightens, head tilting. Eyes on Hoseokâs face, he asks, âWhatâre you grinning about?â and Hoseok realizes he is smiling, the unconscious gesture a dead giveaway that he has no control over. He doesnât care, because without waiting for an answer Yoongi starts smiling too, and the look is too big to leave any room for discomfort.
He didnât have any time to plan out a big speech, so Hoseok thrusts the boxed scene in front of him. It feels like his grin is going to break his jaw, and Yoongiâs reaction only makes his cheeks hurt more. The pale man freezes, mouth falling open, his face abruptly suffusing with colour, the stunned disbelief making Hoseok itch for a camera â although itâd be a shame to miss the immediacy of something as priceless as Yoongiâs expression. Even better, his smile doesnât fade. It grows, wider and wider and more and more disbelieving, and it takes several moments before the artist accepts what Hoseokâs offering.
âAre you kidding me?â he mumbles, and though the question is largely rhetorical, Hoseok answers anyways.
âNope! Youâre gonna be able to give it to your Malsoon and sheâll probably fly over here just to thank you.â
Yoongiâs hands turn the little diorama around, and he canât seem to rip his gaze from the gift. Nonetheless, thereâs a rapid thrumming in Hoseokâs heart, and in turn he canât look away from the stunned joy on the other manâs face. It feels like that same joy is flowing through his own blood, closing little hurts and straightening bent expectations, and it makes him want to be, specifically and exclusively, the reason the emotion continues. When Yoongiâs eyes begin to shine with unshed tears, only then does Hoseok turn away, letting his companion have that moment to himself.
The emotions donât embarrass him â in fact, heâd rather embrace them â but he knows how Yoongi views tears. Instead he stares out the expansive windows, taking in the dark street and buildings that seem so far away right now. It doesnât take the tattooist long to recover â he touches Hoseokâs elbow only half a minute later â and as Hoseok twists around he sees the tissue river set with perfect precision in the center of the coffee table. That doesnât hold his attention.
Yoongiâs eyes are wet, but the light catches in them and softens their hard darkness into something muted and yielding. He licks his lips, licks them again, leaving a sheen, and Hoseok has to forcefully pull his gaze up. Yoongi doesnât seem nervous, exactly, but he lingers over each word like heâs afraid of where theyâll lead. ââŚThank you, Hobi. Itâs such a cool gift. I â I donât know how to pay you back.â
âYou donât owe me for it, Yoongi. You said youâd show me some great stuff tonight, and â well, you did. So weâre even.â His words are automatic, but they leave him unsatisfied, shifting, and he canât quite figure out what it is he wants to say. Heâs become used to the wire-thin tension between them, always and ever present, but it seems heavier now, like itâs pulling on him instead of just existing. Yoongiâs happiness was just too much, overflowing a glass that was filled to the brim already.
In a similar state, Yoongi drags his fingers over his neck in a constant, thoughtless motion. âYeah. I just wantâŚâ The sentiment dies out, leaving them in frozen silence, and Hoseok has a sudden vision of them being stuck in this state forever, a candid photograph taken a few seconds too soon, capturing only the strain of consideration and never the release of choice. He could turn away right now, leaving the look in Yoongiâs eyes untouched, leaving them exactly as they are. A photograph, and nothing more than that.
Or he could do something else. Something like moving forward.
His thoughts have heated to a haze, but it doesnât affect his coordination when he reaches out, gently slides his hand under Yoongiâs to rest against his neck, stilling the uncertain, delicate fingers. Beneath his light touch Yoongiâs skin is hot, and the temperature sinks into his palm and then travels up, searing his nerves along the way. The artist holds himself still, perfectly still, too still, and Hoseok finds himself leaning over to break up that apathy. He pauses â just for a second, just to give Yoongi the chance to pull away, dazedly certain it wonât happen â
And Yoongi closes the distance between them, and then theyâre kissing.
If he makes a noise at all, itâs drowned by his heart, throbbing in his ears. If he breathes at all, itâs captured by Yoongiâs warm mouth, pressed hard against his own, and he cares less for oxygen than for eradicating the space between them. Yoongiâs arms encircle his back, pulling him nearer, and Hoseok cups Yoongiâs neck with one hand, his thumb steady on his jaw. His other hand tangles in the artistâs hair, pulling too roughly, but he has to get closer. The frantic need boils under every piece of skin that isnât touching the other man.
Yoongiâs hands move with equal fervor as they curl into his back, and then theyâre falling down to clutch Hoseokâs waist in a grip so tight it might have hurt if Hoseok remembered what pain felt like. They cling to each other and it still isnât enough. As Yoongiâs tongue parts his lips, their breath mingles hot and wet and heaving, and Hoseokâs vision is tilting, slanting, spinning into a blur of colour that doesnât disappear when his eyes close. His lungs are straining but he doesnât remember air, he only remembers Yoongi, only remembers fitting against him like they were sculpted to be together, and it still isnât enough.
His grip on Yoongiâs jaw becomes harsher, their lips pressing together so hard their teeth are cutting into each otherâs skin, and he doesnât know if heâs tasting his blood or Yoongiâs, if heâs breathing his own air or not, if itâs his heart shuddering in his chest or if heâs somehow stolen the tattooistâs. It all blends, sights and sounds, taste and touch, and over it all is the rush of their blood, thick and getting thicker. Under his closed eyelids, blazing streaks of light form and dart away, as quick as emotion, like thought, like heâs thinking â but itâs not just him, itâs Yoongi, too, and he canât tell where his blistering desire begins and Yoongiâs fierce relief ends, and itâs finally, finally almost enough â
And Yoongi breaks away from him, suddenly and violently, and the duality is shattered like a dream, like a fantasy, like hope with no happy ending.
Hoseok lurches as his eyes snap open, his vision scattered with swirling spots, and he has a sickening impression that heâs â that heâs looking at himself, looking out from Yoongiâs eyes, but then he blinks and the impression is gone, leaving him bewildered. The artist has staggered a few steps away, is leaning against the couch, and their harsh panting canât quite cover up the hollow sound of the space between them. He doesnât feel â heâs not upset. Nothing even remotely like it. But it feels like his emotions have been heated to such a high point theyâve melted together, all the colours turning into a muddied brown. There are no sharp points to hold onto and so it all eddies together and slips away from him; even the burn in his groin flickers lower.
Exhaustion is an abrupt weight, personalized for each of his muscles, and Hoseok sags, runs his hand through his damp hair. Theyâre both regaining control of their gasping, and slowly Yoongi straightens, his skin glistening with sweat. Hoseok wearily prepares himself to be shut out, to have a wall put up in his face by word or look or gesture, but the artist doesnât make any move to increase the distance between them. He doesnât try to decrease it, either, but itâs still an improvement.
Eventually Yoongi speaks, his voice husky with the breath he hasnât quite managed to catch yet. âWe should have done that last Friday,â he says, startling a laugh out of Hoseok.
âIt would have been better,â the student agrees. âAlthoughâŚâ Yoongi tilts his head inquisitively, and Hoseok grins. âWe might have been kicked out after that.â He has no idea how long it lasted â time turned liquid within their kiss â but he has a feeling it was long enough to have attracted attention on the dance floor.
Yoongi smiles wanly. âGood thing I know most of the bouncers.â
Slowly his emotions are stretching out, finding themselves again, and an overwhelming sense of rightness is at the forefront. Itâs like a pain heâs never noticed before, scarred into the tissue of his lungs, is gone, and now that itâs disappeared Hoseok can breathe like heâs supposed to. A lingering ache in his bones has replaced that pain â faint, a phantom sensation â but itâs nothing compared to the restless itch he could never scratch, the relentless pressure he could never escape.
He has no idea what the hell just happened. Itâs not like heâs never kissed someone before, not by a long shot, but that was â what the hell was that? âHave you everââ Hoseok begins, changes tack at the last second. âDid you feel that?â The answer is plain in their violent upheaval, in the sweat darkening Yoongiâs hair, but Hoseok needs to hear it from the man opposite him, a confirmation heâs not going crazy.
For a moment he thinks Yoongi is going to deny it, but then the artist raises a shaking hand, brushes it over his lips in a way that makes the fizzling fire deep in his core flicker stronger before fading again. âI felt it,â Yoongi says, drawing his fingers back and examining them like he expects them to be stained with something. Thereâs nothing there, and his gaze drifts over to Hoseok, an eyebrow tiredly arched. âWhat did I tell you, Hobi? Donât need to be soulmates for there to be â whatever the fuck that was.â
Even as he laughs, the comment doesnât sit quite right with Hoseok. Heâs too tired to examine it carefully, though, and besides, the draining hasnât stopped, pulling his memories of the kiss into an uncertain vortex. All that distinctly remains is the heat and the satisfaction, and he doesnât want to question that too closely.
âSo,â Yoongi says suddenly. âYou think your soulmateâs out there somewhere, jealous as all hell?â
Hoseok meets his eyes â his tired, hopeful eyes â and shrugs. âI donât think so. But if they areâŚâ Each breath he takes is freer than the last, and Hoseok finds himself smiling faintly. âIf they are, I donât care.â
---
Hoseok is just as restless in sleep as he is awake. He twists and turns on the couch, so much so that Yoongiâs a little concerned heâs going to fall off, and his hands track across his body in brief, agitated swipes. He looks ridiculous in the oversized pants Yoongi had found at the bottom of his drawer, won from a contest years ago, though itâs not in a bad way. His mouth moves but nothing comes out â or at least nothing Yoongi can hear, a good few feet away, arms crossed and leaning against one of the roomâs walls. He wants to move, to go do something â not sleep, sleep hasnât come to him before one or two in the morning in years â but he stays where he is.
His lips are tingling, and it feels achingly good. He canât say he hasnât kissed someone recently, but that had left the taste of stale cigarettes and booze in his mouth; now something deeper lingers heavily on his tongue, sweetness and the rust of blood combined, a faded echo of their kiss. When he wipes his hand across his lips, it doesnât do anything to dispel the sensation, and he wonders if itâs going to be there for however long he has left. Heâs not sure if itâs a pleasant thought or not.
Yoongi would lie if someone confronted him, but heâs been thinking about doing that for as long as heâs known Hoseok. Hell, even before noticing the tattoo, the thought had darted through his head, there and gone because it wasnât a desire worth holding on to. The kiss wasnât a disappointment, and thatâs an understatement Yoongi doesnât know how to fix; his breath keeps catching and his heart has been spinning out of control for the last hour. Heâd known it was going to be intense, but heâs been dealing with the bond for months now. He thought it couldnât knock him off balance anymore.
Wrong.
If Hoseok is at all like him, the other manâs distinct memories of the moment are dwindling and mixing together into a flurry of pleasure and relief with nothing certain in between. Itâll be better that way. Yoongiâs not sure how he could explain that grain of sand, falling at last to the bottom of the hourglass, when theyâd been more than together, more than two â when theyâd been one and the same. He can barely even explain it to himself. Heâs heard it doesnât happen to every bonded couple â or even most of them â and the only thing he can guess is that the constant denial, the repression of the bond had led to that explosion of need that blurred the lines between them.
He hopes thatâs it. Heâs definitely not gonna be able to keep it together if it happens every time they kiss. Against the secret Yoongi has to keep, and against the pain knifing below his skin, the thought of kissing Hoseok again makes him smile. Â
Itâs hot in the room, but then again, he also hasnât taken his jacket off since getting here. With Hoseok safely asleep, he shrugs out of it, throws it over one of the sturdier, taller plants Seokjin gifted him. It sags â hyung would have a fit if he saw â but itâs not one of Yoongiâs concerns right now. His first is the sun on his arm, a sun which is still largely grey, but has been steadily gaining in colour since Hoseok saw his video yesterday. The center in particular is reverting back to the white-hot tones itâs supposed to have.
At least now, with his lie planted, he can stop hiding it so much. Thatâs been a pain in the ass this last while, constantly keeping his arm turned down, or covered up with clothes. Plus, Hoseokâs probably not knowledgeable enough to know thereâs no way it could look so clear less than a week after being done; give it a few more days, and even if Hobi comments on it, heâll claim heâs a fast healer. Thereâs a part of him that feels bad about the lie, but itâs nothing in the face of the collection of others, and he shrugs off his guilt exactly like he took off his jacket. Easily.
This night, though⌠Heâs surprised how good it had felt to talk about his parents. About Jihong and Malsoon. These days lying comes as naturally to him as breathing, and telling the truth is the equivalent of forcing himself off a cliff with pointy rocks at the end of the fall. With Hoseok⌠the little truths, the ones he keeps jealously close to himself, those had rushed off his tongue like they were glad to leave. Heâd planned on revealing some of his backstory, on giving a bit of honesty â he was pretty sure that was the only way to mend the break â but it hadnât turned out like heâd planned. Heâd given away almost everything. Almost too much.
Fuck, thereâd been a point, when Hoseok had smiled for the hundredth time â encouraging and bright and blinding and just as sincere as the first â that heâd almost blurted out the truth. The big one, the one that would probably destroy the both of them.
That was dangerous. At first, Yoongi had kept it to himself simply because he wasnât about to let some random stranger come swinging into his life to save the day, and he didnât even know if Hoseok would, anyways. Now, though⌠God, he canât even think about how hurt Hoseok would be if he found out. Besides, he almost has enough money. One more month should be enough. Who cares what they say, about urgency and âtoo little too lateâ? When have âexpertsâ ever been right about any of that shit? They just want his money faster.
Heâs good at lying to himself, too, but it doesnât do much for the disquiet in his chest. Instead, Yoongi focuses on the little scene Hoseok bought for him. Itâs peaceful, in a way that doesnât really touch Yoongi, but he thinks Malsoon will like it. He hopes she will. Itâs embarrassing how much heâd collapsed when his soulmate had proudly presented it. Call it a really rough night. Even worse, heâs pretty sure Hobi noticed. Actually, heâs positive he did. But Hoseok has that effect on him, assaults him with emotions heâd long ago buried, and grateful joy isnât the least of them. His soulmate has a truly vexing ability to make him embrace all the things he shouldnât, and as he watches Hoseok toss, he canât even be annoyed about it.
Asleep, Hoseok is fucking beautiful. Oh, he is awake, too, but awake thereâs always this little tension, this undercurrent of anxiety that all the fidgeting in the world canât dismiss. When he sleeps, the energy remains, but itâs cleaner, more relaxed. Yoongi briefly entertains the notion of waking him up, of kissing him until he looks as secure awake as he does asleep. Itâs an idle fantasy but a pleasant one, and he lulls himself with the lie that he could be that for Hoseok, that he could be the person who finally makes Hoseok feel right with himself.
Like Hoseok keeps trying to be for him.
âIâm not drunk,â he observes quietly, eyes watchful for any sign of Hoseok stirring. The other man doesnât react to his voice, and he continues after a moment. âI guess thatâs breaking a promise, but I donât think itâs a big deal. This is pretty much cheating, anyways.â His breath starts seizing, like the very air in his lungs is reluctant to leave, but Yoongi keeps talking. âI said Iâd tell you my secret, right? That was supposed to be a lie, but I just â I wanna say it, you know? I want you to know and I â fuck, you canât. You canât. But I wanna say it so fucking bad.â
The pressure on his eyes is threatening with tears; his voice is getting hoarse with the weight of them. God, heâs just been so â so by himself. So alone. He could never dream of imposing on Seokjin and Namjoonâs happiness, whining like a spineless fuck to them, and even now, even with his soulmate right in front of him, heâs still alone. In this quiet, pathetic moment, he wants to wake up the wiry man on the couch. He wants to share the weight, because heâs just that much of a selfish son of a bitch.
Except heâll regret it right away. Heâll regret it as soon as Hoseokâs sleepy smile disintegrates. Heâll hate himself as grief and anger replaces all of the happiness they could have had. Isnât it better this way? Heâd rather enjoy whatever time there is between them and try to get Hobi used to a life where he supports himself just as much as he supports everyone around him. Thatâll be Yoongiâs goal for the next few months, to have the sun in his life so bright heâs even bright enough for himself. Thatâs a good goal. Fuck, even his parents couldnât spit on him for it.
The sun is down right now, though, the moon his only witness, and there are too many words in Yoongiâs chest to contain them all. He edges closer, careful steps and broken thoughts, and kneels next to the couch. âHoseok?â he asks, even more softly than before, and this time Hobi twitches in his sleep, twitches but doesnât quite escape. âIâm sorry I canât tell you this for real. I hope you can forgive me, and â fuck. Itâs â it kind of sucks, you know? Because I feel so stupid, but I think I actually love you and â how do you even say something like this? I donât know. I just ââ
His throat closes, and his eyes do, too, and Yoongi has to drag out each syllable, jagged, painful, blunt. âI have cancer. Surprise, right? Canât afford any of the treatment or â I almost can, now, thanks to you. But â I dunno. I had an appointment this week, and â fuck, they use so many fucking terms, I canât remember it now. They â the doctor said itâs changed. Not for the better, that doesnât happen, right? Itâs gotten worse. She said it might even be too late or â or something. Thatâs probably bullshit, but â fuck, I hope it is. Itâs just⌠Iâve felt so shitty lately. I was supposed to have time, but the doctor said â well, should I even fucking care what she said? She was so wrong that Iââ
Hoseok twists restlessly, the sound loud enough to make Yoongiâs eyes open, darting to the troubled face of the still-sleeping man. Thereâs no relief in his heart â heâs selfish enough that he almost wishes heâd dragged his soulmate out of his peaceful rest â but the crease on Hoseokâs brow makes him quiet himself. His hand reaches out, hovers for a moment before gently, carefully brushing back the fringe of hair from his soulmateâs forehead. His fingers skim across Hoseokâs skin, and slowly the worried lines smooth away, until thereâs nothing but relaxation left.
âI was going to tell you,â he says, and the pressure is too much, itâs driving out the tears in silent rivulets down his face. It only gets worse, a horrible weight on his lungs, and he can barely breathe. âAfter we fought, I decided that we â that I couldnât take it anymore, that Iâd⌠But â but ââ Yoongi chokes, canât get the words out until several heaving moments have passed and the grip on his throat loosens faintly. âNow I canât. Not if I canât get â if Iâm not gonna get better. Iâm sorry, Hoseok. So fucking sorry.â  Â
He canât wrestle with the suffocating grief anymore and Yoongi breaks off, hunched over, his hands braced against his thighs. He lets the tears fall, takes deep, shuddering breaths to keep himself from shattering into sobs. Itâs a skill heâs had since he was a kid. It takes time, but eventually the splintered pieces quit stabbing him so hard, leaving the usual dull ache. Yoongi teeters to his feet, hands clenched into fists, and looks down at Hoseok for a minute or a moment or a meaningless eternity. At least his soulmate is okay. At least Hoseok can only get better from here.
Thatâs the only thought keeping him together, and the artist repeats it over and over as he puts his jacket on and quietly leaves the studio. Heâs not going to be able sleep, and he doesnât want to risk waking Hoseok up. The solitary night isnât a friend, but it is an old companion, and it surrounds him as he walks out into the darkness. Heâs running away, but not for long.
Heâll be back when the sun rises. Â
#yoonseok#bangtanwriters-net#networkbangtan#sope#yoonseok fanfiction#sope fanfiction#bts fanfic#my fanfic#yoongi#hoseok
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Golden
Title: Golden
Author: Lindanele | J-hellnah
Pairing: Yoonseok (Hoseok/Yoongi)
Rating:Â T
Word Count:Â 5.3k
Genre:Â Fluff
Warning: N/A
Summary:Â They were golden in each otherâs eyes (Aka the story of how Hoseok and Yoongi fell for each other)
This is a prequel to the Mind of Mine Series. Iâd advise you to read it so you can understand the whole plot (itâs only 3 parts)!!
Links: AO3 & AFF
#yoonseok#btssunshinenet#yoonseok-net#syubseoknet#hoseoknet#jhope.network#raplinenetwork#bts writing squad#yoongi.net#suga#jhope#yoongi#hoseok#bts#fanfics and coffee
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Bts staff announce mission
Hoseok: break a leg hyung!
Yoongi: anything for ya sunshine
#yoongi-net#bangtanbuds#hyunglinenetwork#bts#bts meme#yoongi#hoseok#yoonseok#suga#j hope#bangtan#bts run#bts funny#jung hoseok#min yoongi#sope#bts love yourself#bts her#puns#bad puns#kbtsnet
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Are you still taking prompts? If so, 27 yoonseok pls
âWeâre going downtown.â
âThereâs a strip club downtown.â
âMin Yoongi, I am going to kill you.â
There are only a few things that can take away Yoongiâs attention from his Saturday afternoon ritual of playing Call of Duty: Black Ops III. Being in college meant Yoongi barely saw the inside of his room most days hurrying to classes and grinding at the library which left him with wistful stares in the direction of his console in between Calculus study sessions. And with Taehyung out probably fucking Jungkook, this was as good a time as any other to catch up on some video games.
Well, except when Hoseok says that.
Yoongi hits pause an turns around.
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âDonât you dare pull that innocent shit on me, hyung, I fucking swear-â and now Hoseok is so close that their faces are three inches away and Yoongi has no option but to look directly into Hoseokâs eyes.
The fact that he likes Hoseok a whole damn lot does not help fight down the intense blush that creeps up on his cheeks at his proximity. Luckily, Hoseok doesnât notice.
âWhat the fuck is this?â Hoseok demands, thrusting his phone at Yoongi. Yoongi blinks, squinting at Hoseokâs cracked screen (there wasnât a single time in the history of Jung Hoseok owning a new cellphone that he hadnât managed to tragically damage it this way within the first week of having one so that Hoseokâs standards have lowered considerably and âas long as it works, hyungâ is a sufficient philosophy for now).
âItâs my Twitter,â Yoongi says, shrugging and Hoseok splutters, half in exasperation and half in disbelief.
ââMin Yoongi retweeted Namjoonâs tweet âi feel like yoongi hyungâs ideal type is choi sooyoungâ and said âlisten brat, i only fuck guysââ?â
âAnd?â Yoongi shrugs. Itâs hard for Yoongi to concentrate on anything because Hoseok is wearing a tank top and god, itâs taking every ounce of Yoongiâs concentration to look nonchalant and not blatantly stare at Hoseokâs pretty arms.
Hoseok on the other hand, looks like he might explode in frustration.
âAnd,â he says, nearly screaming, âyouâre gay?â
âSo what?â
âYouâre telling me that weâve known each other for two years and youâve been gay this whole time.â
âYup.â
âGod,â Hoseok says, slapping his forehead, âdo you have any idea how many times Iâve had to stop myself from hitting on you?â
If Yoongi thinks he was blushing before, itâs nothing compared to what heâs doing now and heâs red that he has to look away and turn back to his game.
âThatâs what youâve been bringing the ceiling down for this whole time?â Yoongi mumbles, unpausing the game.
âDonât you fucking dare make me look like the one thatâs crazy, hyung I-â
âYou free at 8?â Yoongi interrupts. There is a short silence and then a huff of affirmation.
âGreat, weâre going downtown.â
âThereâs a strip club downtown.â
âAnd also an Italian place, asshole,â Yoongi smirks before looking back at Hoseok.
âIâll pick you up 7:30. Sound good?â
This time itâs Hoseokâs turn to blush and thereâs a small smile heâs fighting down at the edge of his lips before nodding ever so slightly and storming out and slamming the door shut.
Yoongi thinks itâs cute how Hoseok forgets that the walls are thin because he can hear Hoseok squealing down the entire hall.
#yoonseok#sobi#yoonseok net#btswriters#networkbangtan#I WROTE THIS ENTIRELY AND IT GOT DELTED I WAS SO ANGRY#this is a shabbier version of what i wrote before bc i was too angry to write all of it again sorry#yoonseokfic#sugafic#jhopefic
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things they did: that
#networkbangtan#btscreatorsnet#hyunglinenetwork#yoongi-net#min yoongi#bts#yoonseok#jung hoseok#sope#yoongi#hoseok#suga#mygifs#jhope#mama 2018
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jung hoseok, everyone
#jhope.network#networkjihope#yoonseok net#yoonminseok net#bangtanbuds#britgifs#j hope#jung hoseok#i love him so much
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