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The rain has been falling for hours already, with zero chance of sunshine peeking through the dark, heavy clouds whatsoever. Mother nature must be having a hard time, Yoongi thinks. And as much as he hates the rain, he can relate.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from feeling annoyed and all sorts of irritated because now his hair is dripping rain water, his face is wet, his clothes are drenched, and his socks are soaked, soggy, and disgusting.
Not once has the weather forecast been accurate, that’s why Yoongi doesn’t have an umbrella with him on this terrible evening, when everyone is getting off work and all the cars passing by one after the other keep splashing dirty water onto his jeans and making his already soggy socks ever soggier. How many times has he told himself to always keep an umbrella in his bag? Far too many, but he still forgets, again and again, day after day; he seems to be more and more forgetful nowadays.
It’s really just a few more blocks until Yoongi reaches his apartment, but because of the rain and trying to skip past puddles while dodging into the alley in hopes of getting one less splash from a passing by vehicle, the way home from college feels two, three, maybe even four times longer than usual.
Another déjà vu moment – of shitty weather, not having an umbrella, being soaked to the bone, feeling his mind sliding away and into the cracks on the concrete, and disgustingly soggy socks. A few too many lately. But maybe it’s just because every single day that goes by is similar and near identical to the previous. Tomorrow will probably be exactly the same as today just as today is the exact same as yesterday and the day before that.
Yoongi knows that this isn’t exactly normal – really though, what part of him and his life is even considered normal – the way he’s living his life, the way he’s feeling, the way he copes (or doesn’t) with the static and the buzzing and the pouring rain falling down from the sky but also from his eyes. He’s crying again. The rain always makes him cry. And he doesn’t really know why, it just happens, almost as natural as the way rain naturally falls from the sky when too much water particles build up and the clouds can’t hold onto them anymore. Everything always seems to be falling anyway, or at least that’s how Yoongi feels.
His connection with nature has always been strong. Ever since he was a kid, Yoongi has been able to relate and connect with nature in some way or another whether he wants to or not. The older he got and as time passes, there’s less of nature all around, but Yoongi still feels extremely affected by the weather.
So, on a rainy day like this, Yoongi’s entire being feels more drained than usual. Everything is heavier, the weight on his shoulders crashing down on him harder, his mind cloudier than normal, his vision blurred out, his limbs moving half a second slower and clumsier than his brain commands.
He’s not exactly feeling sad. And certainly the tears aren’t a result of anything happy. It’s just an overwhelming feeling altogether. And whenever it rains, Yoongi feels like maybe this is the only time it’s okay for him to cry too. Because the sky is crying and company is always nice, so the tears just come on their own as if there’s a switch inside of Yoongi’s brain – when it rains, his tear ducts activate automatically. It’s embarrassing and makes no sense at all, but what even makes sense anymore.
Just one more block and a left turn until Yoongi’s finally home. One more block and a left turn. The same old block and the same damn left turn.
He just wants to be home and take a shower he knows is too hot for his body to handle, change out of these nasty clothes, and crawl under his blankets to finally end the day. It’s really just another day. Another day of waking up too early for any living being, of a ridiculous one-hour commute to college, of trying to stay awake during lectures, of getting home looking like a wet and used mop because, of course, Yoongi forgot his umbrella again.
Being a creature of habit, Yoongi always starts fishing his keys out of his bag before he reaches the corner of the block to turn left so that he doesn’t have to stand in front of his door looking like an idiot who can’t get into his own home. And adding to the whole mess, his hand-eye coordination is terrible with his current state. Anyone who sees him right now would probably think he’s drunk.
Just when he was getting his keys out, and trying to close his bag and swing the straps back around, he steps right into a puddle and falls flat on his face after losing balance.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, still lying on the floor and having zero energy to help himself up, “might as well just die here, right now, like this.”
Yoongi can see from the corner of his eye someone approaching him, jogging towards him almost. Still, he can’t be bothered to even sit up at this point and in the state he’s in.
“Need a hand?” a hand in green, fuzzy gloves is extended towards him, waiting to be taken, “Come on, let’s get you up, the ground is pretty nasty.”
Having no trust in his ability to balance himself, Yoongi reaches for the helping hand still extended his way, and is yanked up immediately with more force than expected.
“Thanks.”
“You okay? I saw you fall from across the street and you didn’t get up, so I kind of rushed over.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Yoongi looks down to find his palms scraped but quickly puts them into his pockets, “thanks. I’m good.”
And Yoongi’s starting to walk away, about to make the left turn that’s so close but took so long to reach when the same pair of green, fuzzy gloves grabs him by the elbow,
“Your keys-” the set of keys lay in the center of the green fuzz, and the stranger says with a bit too much excitement or what might be shock, “Wait, you also live in Flat 2A?”
--
Winter is really here, Yoongi can feel it in his bones. And the fact that he’s been sneezing nonstop, probably coming down with a cold like he does every time the seasons change, is the best indication of that.
Just three and a half weeks left until winter break is here, but Yoongi is already losing it. College stress is too much, and the colder days make him moody and sick and ten times more tired and clumsy, too. It’s just another effect the weather has on him, and Yoongi wishes he could just hibernate and forget about everything until spring comes around again to give him some life. But the world doesn’t work like that and he’s got responsibilities.
As much as he would like to just drop everything and give it all up and end it all, he knows he can’t and therefore he won’t. But that doesn’t stop Yoongi from thinking about it twenty-four seven, and getting frustrated at himself for not being able to do anything well enough to meet his own, ridiculously high standards.
A music major in his last year of college is one of the biggest challenges Yoongi has encountered in his life so far. An external challenge that is, because he’s got a ton of other things he’s been trying to conquer in his head with not much success.
Yoongi is an amazing pianist, that goes without question, but he’s also made up of more hard work than talent, somewhat unfortunate for his major and future career maybe. And years of continuous playing and practicing and perfecting his skills, years of somehow still messing up at important performances, beating himself up over small mistakes, wanting to slam his fingers with the keyboard lid, going all the way to filling out a transferring sheet but tossing it in the trash because Min Yoongi stop being fucking ridiculous you’re already in your last year of college, and just dying to drop out of college once and for all because what is he going to do with a music degree when everyone in the field is more talented and actually has goals and plans for the future.
And now that winter is here, enveloping the whole city, and once again proving how shitty the heating system in this old flat is, Yoongi really feels like giving up.
He has been living in Flat 2A since his first year of college and never really considered moving out for several reasons. He’s wanted to move somewhere closer to campus so that it doesn’t take him an hour to get there and another hour to get home. He’s wanted to move somewhere nicer, newer, and of course warmer too. But Flat 2A is, although not entirely perfect because the heating system gets a minus fifty points already, perfect enough for someone like Yoongi. The place is old, the sound cancellation doesn’t really exist at all because the walls are probably made out of two layers of cardboard, but it’s cheap for a broke college student like him, the area is extremely quiet and peaceful, and most importantly, it’s the only place he has found where the landlord and the other residents living in the flat don’t mind him playing the piano at any time of the day. Yes, even at four in the morning when Yoongi’s really just slamming the keys with his fists out of frustration really so that he doesn’t punch the wall and actually make a hole through it.
So all in all, Yoongi loves this place. Loves it enough to not move out after experiencing his first winter here. Of nearly freezing to death and thinking he’ll never be able to play the piano again because his fingers are turning purple and he can see his own breath indoors. And even though he’s already survived three winters in this place, his fourth and possibly last winter here is still very much dreaded. But Yoongi knows that everything will pass. The good and the bad, they will all pass. And that makes him a little more hopeful, that the freezing winter days will eventually be over and that what he’s feeling and going through now will also pass.
--
Winter is here, because Yoongi is playing Christmas carols even when he doesn’t celebrate Christmas and the holiday season doesn’t mean anything to him. It’s really only mid-November, but the Christmas spirit all around is getting to him more than he thought it would. He thinks the same every year, but it’s really all the same year after year.
Winter is definitely here, because Yoongi is walking around his house with a thick blanket wrapped around him at all times; a burrito in human form. Can’t forget the cup of hot chocolate that he never gets tired of drinking and is always held between his palms to keep him warm; it works better than the heaters, obviously, because the heaters don’t work.
Winter is most definitely here, because Yoongi is coughing and sneezing more than ever, and his supermarket trips are mainly for stocking up on tissue boxes; every piece he plays on the piano never finishes in one go because he has to stop at least twice in between to blow his nose.
None of these things come in surprise because this is Yoongi’s relationship with winter, and for someone who has been living in the same place for more than three years, Yoongi has gotten pretty used to all this. What does come in surprise though, is when he hears someone knocking on his door. His neighbors are friendly, but they never bother him or tell him to stop playing the piano any time. So this is a surprise and a first.
The doors in this flat for whatever reason don’t have peepholes, so Yoongi is fumbling to get the locks open while holding onto his cup of hot chocolate in one hand and trying not to drop his blanket at the same time. When he finally gets the door to open, it’s another surprise and definitely a first when it’s the green fuzzy gloves stranger from last time whom Yoongi came to the conclusion that is probably his neighbor since he was so surprised to find out Yoongi lives in the same flat. And the fact that the stranger is wearing his pajamas and fuzzy slippers and looking like he just woke up from a nap confirms it.
“Hey,” says Yoongi’s neighbor, whose hair looks like a bird’s nest, and the light hazelnut brown makes it look even more so, “I’m Hoseok, your new neighbor. I moved in last month but never ran into you until last week, I think, so I thought I’d come by and say hi.”
“Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth, “Hi. Yoongi, I’m Yoongi.”
“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Hoseok smiles and continues with chattering teeth, “by the way, my heater doesn’t seem to be working, is yours broken too? Sorry, mind if I step in for a bit, it’s seriously so cold. I swear it’s, like, negative twelve degrees in my flat or something.”
“Yeah, sorry, my bad. Yeah it is. I mean, not negative twelve degrees, but yes it’s freezing,” Yoongi moves out of the way and lets Hoseok in. The poor boy looks like he’s way too cold, clearly not prepared for how ridiculously cold it gets even inside the building
They’re both awkwardly standing by the doorway inside Yoongi’s flat. Yoongi is still wrapped up in his blanket, hot chocolate in hand, unable to find the right words to say, and Hoseok just smiles, not knowing where to stand or if he should sit now that he’s inside Yoongi’s place.
“It’s maybe two degrees warmer in here,” Hoseok states, still shivering, but still smiling too.
“So, negative ten degrees?” Yoongi lets out a chuckle and sees his breath puff out of his mouth, “sounds about right.”
Yoongi offers to make Hoseok a hot chocolate, and Hoseok nods while his entire face lights up at the offer. They shuffle to Yoongi’s couch and Hoseok just watches as Yoongi plops himself onto it, legs tucked in against his chest immediately, and wraps the blanket that he never seems to let go of around his body. Hoseok just smiles.
“Right, about the heaters, you’re going to have to get used to it. The heating system in this whole flat has been broken for years,” Yoongi takes a sip from maybe his fifth cup of hot chocolate today, “it’s never worked for as long as I’ve lived here, and no one really complains or bothered to fix it either.”
“How long have you been living here?” Hoseok is really just curious and wants to get to know Yoongi, his new neighbor who seems to be around his age, a little better is all.
“Been living here since my first year of college, so this will be the fourth. It’s the best place for me anyway, probably can’t find a better one, and moving is such a hassle,” and Yoongi feels like he might be revealing too much and talking too much since he’s usually very reserved and quiet, but he just finds himself blabbering on with Hoseok’s company.
“Why’s that? Even when it’s freezing cold and my fingers are probably going to start turning purple soon?” Hoseok stares at his fingers then back at Yoongi who looks quite comfortable and at peace like this, wrapped up in a thick blanket, and never letting go of his warm drink.
“I’m a music major, and I play the piano, as you’ve probably heard through these cardboard-thin walls,”
Hoseok’s expression is what seems like the face of someone who just got struck by an epiphany. And he claps, or tries to, nearly spilling whatever is left of his drink, almost forgetting that he’s still got a mug in one hand and smiles even brighter than before, mouth then shaped like a big “o” as things start to make more sense.
“The only college that has a music major in this town is the one I go to. Don’t tell me we go to the same college.”
“If you’re talking about the one that’s a crazy one-hour commute away from here then yes, that would be the one.”
“Wow, no way,” Hoseok smiles so big and so bright, Yoongi can practically sense the happiness and excitement radiating off of Hoseok. It’s not something Yoongi gets to witness on a daily basis, but it’s a nice sight to see on such a cold winter day, Yoongi must admit.
“How did you end up moving here anyway?” Yoongi can’t help but ask because he can’t come up with a single reason any student from their college, or really anyone at all, would want to live at such a worn down and inconvenient place, “for all the years I’ve lived here, I never would have imagined someone else from the same college possibly moving in.”
“It’s not that I really wanted to move here, but I kind of had no choice,” Hoseok makes a face Yoongi can’t really read and goes on, “it’s a long story, but it was a last minute decision and the only affordable place I could find considering the time of the year.”
Yoongi just nods and sticks his hand out of his blanket burrito to give Hoseok a reassuring pat on the arm before quickly withdrawing it again. Hoseok just smiles, and Yoongi wonders how this boy can smile so much and not get tired. Or at least not seem like he is.
Hoseok then gets up from the couch, making his way to the kitchen to wash the empty mug in his hand when Yoongi tells him to just leave it in the sink, it’s fine.
“Well, I should probably get going, I’ve intruded for so long,” he says, a little embarrassed as he scratches the back of his head, bird’s nest hair and all, “thanks for the hot chocolate, it was nice. And meeting you too.”
“I make the best hot chocolate in town, you’re lucky we’re neighbors,” Yoongi gets up to meet Hoseok at the doorway, “and I’m sorry if the piano bothers you. I can stop playing if you need to study or sleep or whatever. Just let me know, yeah?”
“No, it’s great. It actually helps me concentrate when I study and when I’m trying to fall asleep. You’re really good.”
“Thanks, Hoseok. I’m your hyung by the way, but you can just call me Yoongi, I don’t really care.”
“Oh shit, right, you’re a senior. Sorry hyung, I’ll see you around then!”
And Hoseok is out the door in a matter of seconds, before Yoongi even had the chance to tell him that he’s welcome to drop by any time.
--
Perhaps Yoongi didn’t really have to tell Hoseok he’s welcome because it’s Sunday morning when Yoongi hears a knock on his door and something along the lines of,
“Hyung, I’m sorry it’s so early, but the hot water suddenly stopped running while I was in the middle of my shower…”
And Yoongi is up in seconds, because this has happened to him far too many times in the past three years until he finally went and bought himself a brand new water boiler because he just can’t stand another shower where the water goes freezing cold with absolutely no warning. Not again, Yoongi had told himself, never again, especially not during winter.
When Yoongi opens the door, he’s greeted by a Hoseok whose wrapped in two towels, hair dripping wet, lips almost purple, and shivering like an abandoned puppy on the streets during a terrible storm. All that and somehow still with a smile plastered on his face.
“Hyung,” Hoseok actually looks like he’s about to cry at this point, but he’s still smiling that ridiculous, bright smile of his.
“Come in, hurry,” Yoongi ushers Hoseok into his flat and drags him to the bathroom, “my hot water won’t run out, don’t worry. Take as long of a shower as you want, only for today though, unless you want to pay my bills.”
About fifteen minutes later, Yoongi hears the water stop running. Hoseok peeks out of the bathroom door and calls for Yoongi,
“Hyung, I forgot to bring my clothes over…” Hoseok sounds so apologetic, a bit too apologetic for a situation that isn’t even his fault.
“It’s fine, I’ll lend you some. Give me a minute.”
Yoongi flips through his closet looking for his baggier clothes because Hoseok is clearly taller and of a larger build than Yoongi.
“I’m making you a hot chocolate,” Yoongi says from the kitchen when Hoseok comes out of the bathroom, “drink that first before you go.”
“Why are you so nice, hyung?” Hoseok makes his way to the kitchen easily since the floor plan is exactly the same as his flat, just flipped, and sits on one of the two wooden stools, watching Yoongi concentrating hard on his so called masterpiece.
“I’m not. Not really, but thanks,” Yoongi shuffles across the kitchen and sits on the other stool, across from Hoseok, and now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure why he has two stools in his kitchen when he’s the only one living in this place, “here.”
Hoseok takes the mug gratefully, with both hands and a huge smile on his face, “thanks, it smells good.”
“You too,” is probably the dumbest and most embarrassing thing Yoongi has ever said in his entire life ever but Hoseok just laughs and sips on the drink happily.
It warms Yoongi’s heart quite a bit. Or a lot. To see Hoseok so happy and satisfied and looking so at home.
--
Even though Yoongi and Hoseok go to the same college, live in the same building, and are just a door down from the other, they don’t run into each other all that much. They occasionally bump into each other in the mornings but are both just too tired and out of it due to the lack of sleep during exam week to say much besides a weak wave and a “see you around, maybe, yeah.”
It’s already December, which means winter break is just around the corner but exams come first, as usual. Yoongi plays the piano for hours and hours straight without taking any breaks, not even when his nose is running and his fingers are cramping and the blanket that’s usually around his shoulders has fallen onto the floor long ago, completely discarded. Besides his music theory exam and few other written exams he has for his mandatory classes, Yoongi has an important recital two weeks after winter break starts. His most important recital as a senior in college. The very one that will determine a big part of his future career, the very one where important people in the music industry attend and evaluate and judge his performance. And, clearly, it motivates Yoongi to work harder and practice longer, to do his best and perform as well as he can, but the pressure and stress are really pushing his limits this time around.
Yoongi doesn’t even remember how long he has been playing for, which is nothing new to him, or his neighbors that are far too tolerant and nice to be true. It honestly could have been hours or days or weeks, he hasn’t checked the time or the date in too long. He’s only brought back to reality when he heard a loud, crashing sound of glass being shattered coming from next door. Yoongi immediately stops playing and gets up from his seat to check the time – 4:18 AM – and to look for the source of the noise. If it’s coming from next door, it could only mean.
Hoseok. And just the thought of Hoseok, at four in the morning, along with the sound of glass shattering is making Yoongi panic. This can’t be good.
Anything that happens in the middle of the night, past twelve in the morning and into the depths of the night, before the sun is even close to rising, is always a weird time. For Yoongi at least, because he hasn’t had a normal sleeping schedule since his high school days, and those hours are usually the worst for Yoongi because he’s either practicing until his fingers hurt or he’s lying in bed overthinking and letting his thoughts and the darkness of the night devour him whole.
While everyone is still fast asleep at these hours, Yoongi is always up whether he wants to or not. And for someone else to also be awake, maybe not fully functioning, but to be up during this time of the night makes Yoongi worry. Especially when it comes to Hoseok who is always bright and smiling and so unlike Yoongi who is, on the other hand, too stubborn, too stressed out, too anxious, and all sorts of too much.
Before his mind takes him anywhere else, his feet have already taken him outside Hoseok’s flat, and fist already knocking on his door only to find it unlocked when Hoseok doesn’t answer and Yoongi tries for the doorknob.
The lights are off and thank god for the same floor plan of their flats, Yoongi can navigate around to find the light switch, even though he keeps stepping on what seems to be clothes and pens and crumpled up pieces of paper.
The living room lights are on, but Hoseok is still no where to be seen; he hears the kitchen sink running.
“Hoseok?” Yoongi calls out quietly and a bit hesitant, in hopes of not startling Hoseok at this late hour but more so because he’s just afraid, and makes his way to the source of the sound, “Hoseok, it’s me, I’m switching the lights on, okay?”
“Wait, no, Yoongi- I mean, hyung, please don’t,” Hoseok sounds hurt, more emotionally but maybe physically too, with how strained his voice sounds, and Yoongi just really needs to see him to be sure.
“Hoseok, what happened?” Yoongi doesn’t need Hoseok to tell him what really happened if Hoseok doesn’t want to, but he needs to know if Hoseok is okay, if he’s hurt, “are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Hyung, I’m- just, hyung, I-”
Yoongi feels like his head is going to explode and his heart is being trampled on just from the way Hoseok’s voice shakes, and he really needs to see Hoseok, to make sure Hoseok is okay, to know that if he’s not, Yoongi will reach out to him without a second thought.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi’s voice is low but soft and as reassuring as he can make it be, and pauses to think of what he should or shouldn’t say before he starts again, “Hoseok, do you want me to stay or give you some time on your own? But before anything I need to know if you’re hurt,”
“I don’t- I’m not sure. The living room, hyung,” Hoseok manages to say despite how choked up he is with his own words, “Stay, hyung, please just. Wait.”
“Yes, yeah, of course. I’ll stay, yeah. I’ll be in the living room. Just, just tell me if you need anything, okay?”
And neither of them know exactly how much time has passed; the concept of time during these late hours into the night, or early hours who knows, doesn’t seem to follow the rules – seconds stretch into hours and minutes don’t last any longer than a millisecond. The clock in the living room ticks, but Yoongi has long become immune to the constant ticking noise. He’s awake, but his eyes feel a thousand-tons heavy. He’s just pacing around the living room, picking things up from the ground and trying to tidy up the space a little. The longer time passes, the more anxious Yoongi feels, and now he’s just blinking near the speed of light to stop his eyes from drying up. Were his eyes always this dry?
Yoongi hasn’t stopped moving around the living room and busying himself while he anxiously waits for Hoseok to show up; he wonders if he should go check on Hoseok, but he figures the younger might just need some time and space for himself. It’s honestly really fucking cold, and just when Yoongi is about to go search for a blanket or a throw or even a towel will do at this point, Hoseok slowly emerges from the kitchen and just stands by the doorframe without looking up, saying anything, or moving – not away but also not forward, just rooted at the spot.
Really, Yoongi isn’t the best around people, he’s probably the worst around people actually, but he’s always been good at comforting and calming others. Perhaps it’s because he feels so much. He feels too much for his own good, and absorbs too much of his surroundings and other people’s emotions, but because he feels this much, he knows. Knows what it’s like to be in this position, know what it’s like or what it could be like to feel the weight of the world crashing down on you.
“Hey,” Yoongi tries, in the quietest and most unsure tone he’s ever heard himself use, seeming much more like a question than an actual greeting. He’s usually much better at this, but with Hoseok, Yoongi finds himself afraid but still determined to do his best, to at least try.
Upon hearing Yoongi’s voice, Hoseok looks up, slightly startled as if he’s forgotten that Yoongi is here, with a face so tired and drained and defeated-looking, eyes swollen and still very much watery. Hoseok feels and probably looks like a massive earthquake – and the result of one – in the form of a human being. He opens his mouth in attempts to say something, but the words just aren’t coming out, and his mind and body are just about as shut down and broken as everything in this building.
Yoongi’s afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. He’s never really seen this side of Hoseok before, just like Hoseok hasn’t seen all of Yoongi, and he’s not exactly sure how to help without trespassing Hoseok’s space and mind. His gut feeling – and Yoongi has always trusted his gut feeling – is telling him to just go for it, to just go to Hoseok, and if Yoongi’s not sure what’s okay then just ask. Ask if it’s okay, ask if it’s fine, just ask. Ask, or you’ll never know.
“Hoseok, hey,” Yoongi tries again, and he’s trying, he really is.
When Hoseok still doesn’t, or can’t get himself to move, Yoongi does. They’re a lot closer now, and Yoongi notices all the poorly applied bandages on Hoseok’s hands and his heart actually hurts. He can’t help but reach his hand forward to hold onto Hoseok’s.
Ask, Yoongi, just ask.
“Do you need a hug?” Yoongi’s voice is almost a whisper, but he manages to say it louder for both of them to hear, “can I give you a hug?”
Hoseok is nodding, and before Yoongi even has the time to extends his arms or register the situation, Hoseok is already wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist, holding onto Yoongi like his life depended on it.
“Hyung…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
--
Final exams come and go, all the tests are over now, except for Yoongi’s recital in two weeks, which is really the biggest test of them all. Hoseok has been spending most of his time in Yoongi’s flat rather than his own now that the term is over and winter break has started. He doesn’t really explain why, just knocks on Yoongi’s door with a “hyung, can I stay for a bit, if you don’t mind,” and of course Yoongi doesn’t mind, he’s busy practicing anyway and Hoseok doesn’t bother him much apart from telling Yoongi to just take a fucking break already, please hyung.
Hoseok is good company, really, and Yoongi appreciates it more than he could say. So in return, Yoongi takes breaks here and there, which makes Hoseok happy, and makes hot chocolate for both of them, which makes Hoseok happier, if that’s even possible.
It is, believe it or not.
Each day seems to go on forever but too quickly at the same time. The closer it gets to the day of the recital, the more stressed out and anxious Yoongi gets. Meaning: less breaks, more playing, less sleeping, more practicing, less eating, more stressing out.
Maybe it’s because Hoseok is spending so much time at Yoongi’s, he’s picked up on Yoongi’s habits and it’s honestly quite concerning. Hoseok wonders if this is how Yoongi has always been, on his own, like this.
Hoseok’s not sure when exactly he started to notice – maybe because everything is so subtle and hardly noticeable, the change, like your own family never being able to tell if you’ve grown taller because they see you everyday – they way Yoongi is more often than not blanking out and not paying attention to, well, anything besides practicing. Not even Hoseok.
It’s exactly one week before the recital and Hoseok is dragging Yoongi out to grab dinner with him, “Hyung you need to go outside, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?”
Yoongi just shrugs, because he can’t give Hoseok an answer to that.
The instance that made Hoseok really notice was when they’ve just gotten out of the restaurant and are walking side by side, as usual. Hoseok telling Yoongi about random things on his mind, and Yoongi staying silent, just listening.
This is nothing new to them, this is just how they always are and have been since the very day they met; Hoseok filling up for Yoongi’s silence and Yoongi listening attentively to everything Hoseok tells him. There’s nothing unusual about the way they work and complement each other.
Until Hoseok’s grabbing Yoongi’s arm with a bit too much force and pulling him back onto the sidewalk, making both of them stumble over and crash against each other.
If it weren’t for Hoseok’s quick reflexes, Yoongi could have gotten run over by a bus making a right turn.
“Are you okay?” Hoseok looks at Yoongi from head to toe, hands holding onto Yoongi’s shoulders, trying to get Yoongi to look at him.
When Yoongi does, it’s not a shocked expression on Yoongi’s face, but rather the lack of one that terrifies Hoseok.
“I’m fine. Sorry, wasn’t really paying attention,” Yoongi’s hand reaches over to smooth down a strand of Hoseok’s hair that’s sticking out, “stop looking at me like that, I’m okay. You just almost yanked my arm off.”
“Yoongi,” Hoseok’s voice is firm but at the same time too unstable and shaky, “you nearly got run over by a bus. A fucking bus, Yoongi.”
Yoongi always, always looks both sides before crossing the road; it’s Hoseok who’s the more careless one.
--
One week before the recital, Hoseok feels like he’s losing Yoongi when Yoongi is sitting right beside him, eyes trained on the television but Hoseok knows Yoongi isn’t paying attention to what’s happening in that pixilated world, or in the real world.
It’s already a miracle that Hoseok got Yoongi to take a break from practicing, but he knows Yoongi isn’t really resting when his mind is fully occupied by all sorts of things besides the actual idea of resting.
Hoseok wants to cry. He’s worried and he’s afraid and he’s probably going to start crying any second now. He’s endlessly worried about Yoongi but he doesn’t actually know what to say or do because Yoongi is so focused and this is important and Hoseok doesn’t want to mess anything up; he has messed up too many things and so many relationships in his life, he really doesn’t want to mess this one up.
Hoseok doesn’t even know what they are because they never talk about it. They spend more time together than apart, they try their best to take care of each other, they eat together, shop together, buy groceries together, fall asleep on the couch together, but neither of them have brought it up or shown any signs of discomfort or distaste towards each other. They’ve in a way reached a plateau, with nothing being addressed and no questions being asked. It’s not exactly going in a bad direction, it’s just not really going in any direction at all.
These thoughts are gnawing at Hoseok – the feelings of uncertainty, of worrying over Yoongi’s health and wellbeing, of wanting to do something but not knowing how. He can’t even push them to the back of his mind when it’s all he’s been thinking about, especially when the recital is just a few days away and Yoongi’s way of panicking is by not showing any signs of panic. Yoongi is all Hoseok’s been thinking about and he can’t push anything away. He can’t push the thoughts away. He can’t push Yoongi away, not when Yoongi is right beside him, having found the perfect spot where he molds right into Hoseok’s side. A rare occasion considering how Yoongi has practically glued himself to the piano seat. It’s been a while since Yoongi has been this relaxed, if this even counts as relaxed, but Hoseok knows. Because Yoongi isn’t sitting up stiffly with his back way too straight. Because Yoongi isn’t picking his hands and scabs on his fingers but is playing with Hoseok’s hands instead. Because Yoongi is leaning against Hoseok, putting his entire bodyweight on the younger rather than trying to hold himself together all on his own.
“You know,” Yoongi starts, still playing with Hoseok’s hands. But when he feels Hoseok sniffle, and yes, feels, because the boy sniffles not just with his nose but with his entire body when he’s on the verge of crying, Yoongi peels himself away from Hoseok immediately so that he can look at Hoseok properly.
It’s always a sight that breaks Yoongi’s heart, whenever Hoseok cries. Because Hoseok really doesn’t cry that often, or at least tries not to. Both of them are surprisingly good at keeping their thoughts and emotions to themselves considering how much time they spend together and how close they have gotten. Both Yoongi and Hoseok tend to keep everything to themselves and pretend things are fine until the very moment it’s all been suppressed for too long; a terrible and very much self-destructive habit they both have.
And it hurts Yoongi so much because he knows, all too well, that there’s a reason for Hoseok’s breakdown, as there has always been, whether it’s caused by one small thing or a combination of hundreds of events. It hurts because Yoongi is just as bad as opening up to people as Hoseok is, and he knows how terrible and terrifying it can all be. And Yoongi just can’t help but feel sorry especially because he’s just as bad at voicing his thoughts and feelings, and really should have cared more and asked Hoseok how he’s doing more often instead of being holed up in his room practicing.
It’s such a simple act to just ask Hoseok how he’s feeling, how his day is going, what he feels like having for dinner. Such a simple thing to do that could mean so much to someone, Yoongi has failed to do even the least, and he feels absolutely horrible.
The walls that Hoseok built up again and again are crumbling down, the glass is not half full or half empty but way too full. Tears are streaming down Hoseok’s cheeks, and it’s breaking Yoongi’s heart.
Yoongi’s body always acts before his brain does, one hand already holding onto Hoseok’s shaking hands and the other wiping his tears away, “Hoseok, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But Hoseok just shakes his head over and over again. He wants to tell Yoongi to stop apologizing, that this isn’t his fault and he shouldn’t be apologizing, but his entire body is trembling and if he weren’t sitting down, he’s sure his legs would have given out long ago. And right now, Yoongi is holding onto his hands so tightly and steadying Hoseok. Not just his hands but his mind, too, and Yoongi is still apologizing and still gripping his hands and still wiping his tears for him and it’s only making Hoseok cry even more.
Because this isn’t the first time Hoseok has broken down before someone else. This certainly isn’t the first time he couldn’t hold himself and his emotions together and everything just comes breaking down and pouring out. And this definitely isn’t the first time Hoseok has cried in front of another person. But this is the first time, considering how often he feels so defeated by this world that is a little too cruel, people that are a little too mean, his heart that is a little too big, and his mind that is a little too loud, that someone is holding him through it and comforting him rather than leaving him dealing with the mess he created on his own.
Hoseok thinks that it used to be a lot easier, dealing with the constant ups and downs of his emotions and picking up the pieces of himself that he broke by himself. It used to be a lot easier, keeping his feelings and thoughts in check no matter how confused and lost he felt. It used to be so much easier, getting back up on your feet and functioning again like a normal human being would.
It used to be, but not so much anymore.
Which is frustrating because Hoseok knows he’s independent and responsible and hardworking. He has taught himself to not be dependent on others but to do what he can to the best of his ability, to try and do things on his own because at the end of the day no one is going to be there for you but yourself.
And to some extent, he’s right. But Hoseok has for sure disregarded and forgotten that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to not be strong all the time. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to love and be loved.
All this time, he just wanted someone to understand. He desperately wants someone to understand, for someone to please understand, but when you’re rooted in the same spot for years, making the initial step becomes harder the longer you put it off. To get out of the walls you built around yourself, to make sense of the mess in your head, to get the words out of your mouth, to ask for the help you know you need. Hoseok knows he has to do it, better sooner than later, but it’s been too long and the roots have already grown deep into the ground and he can’t do it. He just can’t.
In a sense, Hoseok became the aftermath, the result, the leftovers, and the remnants of a never-ending cycle of self-destruction.
And this whole feeling is all too familiar.
It’s a hard feeling to explain. It’s always hard to explain something intangible, something that doesn’t exist in a physical form.
There are similes and metaphors to compare one thing to another and to explain things in a way that’s more relatable and familiar, but when you’re not even really sure what you feel and when you don’t know what you know, you’re simply stuck with a heart and a mind too full but having no way of expressing and letting it all out.
Some similes? Like a balloon filled with too much air, on the verge of exploding. Like an elastic band being stretched too far, ready to snap any second. Like your leg falling asleep, it’s numbing and it hurts.
Hoseok doesn’t want to admit it to himself or to anyone else, but he knows that he doesn’t want pity, he just needs a little comforting and warmth.
And it’s crazy to think about because all these years, that’s all Hoseok has thought and that’s how he’s functioned and lived this whole time – on a roller coaster ride he wants to get off of but can’t find seem to find the stop button. It’s even more crazy and mind-blowing and overwhelming because not once has Hoseok even imagined the possibility of having someone listen and understand and just be there to hold him through the storm devouring him from within.
But here Yoongi is, holding Hoseok’s hand in his, and Hoseok kind of wants to laugh at the seemingly ironic image of the two of them right now, because anyone else would think upon how firmly Yoongi is holding Hoseok’s hands that Yoongi is the one not wanting to float away when in reality it’s Hoseok who’s drifting and Yoongi keeping him grounded.
Hoseok is an earthquake and the eventual split on the concrete. Hoseok is an avalanche, the masses of snow, rocks, ice all tumbling down the mountain at top speed. Hoseok is a tornado, picking up and absorbing his entire surroundings while destroying everything within reach all at the same time.
It’s not pretty. In fact, it’s a huge mess and a complete disaster, disorder, chaos. It’s a sight that Hoseok hates seeing himself in and hates the mess he causes every time. Nothing about the way Hoseok reaches boiling point and his entire body shakes like a pot with its lid falling off is pleasant. Having to go through all of this alone drives Hoseok crazy already, and now having to put someone else through it and have them be a part of this storm is completely unnecessary and uncalled for.
The last time something like this happened, Yoongi arrived when the storm had just about passed and Hoseok was already trying to pick up the shards of broken glass on the kitchen floor and putting together the pieces of his own mind that shattered along the way. One step too late, Hoseok thought then, and he meant that in a relieved, wiping sweat off his forehead kind of way because it would be absolutely terrible for him and for Yoongi to have to witness such a mess; he didn’t want Yoongi seeing this side of him.
Last time was a close call, but this time Hoseok wasn’t by himself and there wasn’t enough time for him to escape before it all came crashing down. It’s over, Hoseok thinks, it’s too late now, the damage has been done.
As always, Hoseok lets his mind wander too far and is only brought back to reality when Yoongi slips one hand out of Hoseok’s (their hands had turned into a tangled situation with both of them trying to hold onto each other’s) and swipes Hoseok’s bangs out of his face,
“Is there anything I can do for you to feel better?” Yoongi’s voice is deep and serious, but he sounds genuinely concerned and looks straight into Hoseok’s eyes as he talks, searching for an answer or any sort of reaction from Hoseok because no matter how good Yoongi may be at comforting people, everyone is different, and Yoongi has learned that if really intends on helping someone and if he’s not sure what to do or say then just ask, “please let me know if there’s anything I can do, anything at all.”
Hoseok hasn’t said a single word in maybe half an hour now and although he’s calmed down somewhat, he can’t get himself to open his mouth and talk. The crying has drained him completely and he feels like an empty vase, with nothing inside of him, with nothing to offer.
He feels lightheaded, but also as if there’s an anchor constantly pulling him underwater. Hoseok ends up resting his forehead on Yoongi’s shoulder, hands still reaching for Yoongi,
“You’re warm, hyung,” is all Hoseok manages to whisper, “so warm.”
--
The sun will always rise in the morning. No matter how long the night feels and how dreadful those dark hours are, the sun will rise and it’s a brand new day greeting you through the sunlight peeping through the window blinds, not doing much temperature wise considering how cold their flat is and how much the temperature has already dropped this time around the year, but it’s brightness and light and the source of all living things that gives anyone a sense of hope.
Hoseok wakes up with a terrible headache but the heavy feeling in his head has more or less dissipated. Instead, replaced by a weight on his chest and across his torso.
With how blinding the the sun is shooting into their- Yoongi’s room, Hoseok wishes he could at least feel some of it’s warmth. But now that he thinks about it, he’s really surprisingly not that cold. With Yoongi nuzzled up so close at what seems to be his favorite spot where he fits against Hoseok almost perfectly, Hoseok woke up with so many questions answered.
However, Hoseok doesn’t remember much of anything that happened last night once he’d started crying, and it must have been Yoongi who dragged him onto the bed from the couch because Hoseok’s pretty sure he didn’t have any energy left in him and honestly who else would have done it besides Yoongi. How Yoongi managed to do it, Hoseok isn’t really sure, but he makes a mental note to thank Yoongi for that once Yoongi wakes up.
He doesn’t actually need to make a mental note of that though, because he’s always thankful for Yoongi, and he’s always thinking about Yoongi anyway.
Although Hoseok was born at the end of winter and not long before spring comes around, he considers himself a summer child; the sun, the light, the warmth, Hoseok is drawn to it all. And with Yoongi so close to him right now, Hoseok just wants this moment to last a little longer – or maybe forever – because Yoongi is so warm and Hoseok has never felt more at home.
It’s such an unfamiliar and stomach-churning feeling. The feeling of being at ease and at home, finally, because Hoseok never really knew how that felt like and twenty year-old Jung Hoseok doesn’t understand the meaning of home. Maybe this is what it feels like, maybe this is what it means to feel at home – to be able to feel warmth even when the world around you is freezing cold.
“Hey,” Yoongi’s voice is raspy and even deeper than usual. It comes out quiet and groggy, but Yoongi looks up at Hoseok who’s staring blankly at the ceiling, and can’t help but smile at the boy who’s more radiant than the sun splashing through the windows on a cold winter morning when the younger finally meets his gaze, “morning, sunshine.”
And Hoseok is definitely more than a little caught off guard and can feel his cheeks starting to burn up. He was completely right about not having to make a mental note to thank Yoongi because the words leave his mouth before he even has time to think,
“Hyung,” and he’s realizing just how close they are, but somehow wants to get a bit closer because the fireplace is the coziest place in the entire house and perfect for days like these and perfect for Hoseok who’s always seeking a little warmth and comfort, “Yoongi, thank you.”
They’ve shared a living space for months now and spent so much time around each other and so many nights on the couch together, but this is the first time they’ve shared a bed and woken up together like this. Maybe Yoongi is just extra needy and cuddly in the mornings, because they’re already so close yet he’s inching closer to Hoseok still, like a cat nuzzling. And it’s so easy and natural for Hoseok to reciprocate, fingers combing through Yoongi’s mess of a bedhead but still soft strands of hair.
“Hoseok, I know the invitation is long overdue, but, come to my recital?” Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed and he’s avoiding Hoseok’s gaze, “I want you to be there, so, please?”
“Yes, yes, I’d love to, hyung.”
Yoongi thinks Hoseok’s smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
--
“Hyung, I’m sorry to say this, but you suck at tying ties,” Hoseok can’t help but laugh at Yoongi’s terribly knotted tie, but fixes it for him with a smile full of fondness, “much better.”
A week has passed and it’s finally the day of the recital and Yoongi’s most dreaded day in his entire life so far. He knows he has practiced days and nights on end all these years and especially these past few weeks, but no amount of practice will ever make him feel confident and comfortable; he knows he’s only where he is now because of hard work and not because of talent. Having played the piano since he was a toddler and joining all sorts of competitions, and now being a music major in college, he’s seen talent and he knows what it is. And what talent is is something he knows deep within his heart, even if he doesn’t want to admit, that he was only given a pinch of it while others play like they were born playing, like they’ve been playing the piano in every single past life they ever lived.
They’re in the taxi and Yoongi only stops nervously shaking his leg when Hoseok puts his hand on Yoongi’s thigh, “You’ll do just fine, believe me.”
And Yoongi does believe Hoseok. He always has and always will because Hoseok has only ever been nothing but genuine and down to earth and says the things he says and does the things he does because he means it wholeheartedly.
“Thanks,” Yoongi puts a hand on top of Hoseok’s and maybe it’s because his own hands are too cold due to the nervousness, but Yoongi’s sure that either way, Hoseok’s hands are warm because so is his heart, “thanks for coming, it means a lot, really.”
Few hours later when the scores were calculated, Yoongi didn’t receive the highest score from the judges, he already knew he most likely wouldn’t, but he still did well. Really well actually, and several important figures in the industry went up to him with affirmative smiles and firm handshakes.
Hoseok looks at Yoongi from the side, not knowing what those people in fancy, hundred or maybe thousand dollar suits are saying to Yoongi, but he can tell just from the way Yoongi smiles and bows that it’s all good news and lots of praise. Hoseok couldn’t be more proud.
“You did well, hyung, you’re amazing,” Hoseok had his arms open even when they were still meters away from each other, and pulls Yoongi in for a tight hug when they’re finally together again, “you know, I tried to pick up my jaw from the ground but it kept falling, so I just left it there until you finished playing.”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Yoongi hugs back just as tightly and Hoseok whines when Yoongi messes up the hair he took a good fifteen minutes trying to style, “thanks, again. Thank you so much, Hoseok.”
--
To Yoongi, his mind must have been empty for a very long time. It must have been years already, since the last time he felt alive, since the last time he felt like a proper living human being rather than a half-dead blob mindlessly floating through space and time and people. Time is a concept Yoongi barely recognizes. It’s all been a massive blur and murky waters and foggy skies over clear ones. Ever since the first time Yoongi felt his mind start to slip away, his mind has only been slipping away from his body further and further with no intention of coming back to its home; Yoongi finds that understandable though, because just like Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi has never quite understood the meaning of home.
And while everyday Yoongi felt like he had one day left to live, like he was hanging off a cliff ready to fall or jump any second, he didn’t quite live like a person who knew it was his last day on earth. The days are always overcast, heavy, and gloomy. And Yoongi had a hard time recalling what sunny days looked like and how sunshine on skin felt like.
To Hoseok, who felt as if he was no longer capable of loving and being loved, who had forgotten the meaning and feeling of warmth and affection and comfort, who convinced himself that the reason he hasn’t felt or experienced any type of strong feelings or created bonds or maintained any sort of relationship with anyone in his life is because he wasn’t capable or deserving.
It’s been this long, because the search for a warm night by the fireplace is essentially impossible for two people who didn’t understand the meaning and concept of home.
It’s not always love at first sight or butterflies in your stomach or a constant beating drum in your heart. It’s not always crashing and intense and crazy from the very beginning. And maybe it never will be that way – a dangerous fight of fire against fire – but rather a gradual procession of events, a slow but steady development of finding warmth when the sun isn’t in sight, when the fireplace isn’t built inside a home but in someone’s heart.