title: about yellow curtains
word count: 2216
pairings: yoonseok, bg!namjin
warnings: none
summary: after seokjin moves out yoongi finds himself looking for a new roommate
a/n: because i needed to do something for hobi’s birthday, and this happened. it’s my first bangtan fic on this blog, but definitely not my last. also yellow is a nice colour, that gets way more hate than it deserves.
It was all very formal. Yoongi had chosen the small café close to campus, with designer lamps and brick walls. He had also made sure to be at least fifteen minutes early. They had said five-ish, so when the chair opposite Yoongi was still empty at five o’ clock sharp he shouldn’t have been surprised. Then again, punctuality had been one of the keywords in his ad. It was two weeks ago that Yoongi had finally decided to find a new roommate. His old one – Seokjin – had moved out last month, to go live with his boyfriend. Said boyfriend was also Yoongi’s best friend, Namjoon. Yoongi sometimes regretted introducing the two, as it had left him short of a roomie and with a very busy best friend. Then again, Namjoon had always been a busy person.
Yoongi sipped his espresso, eyeing a couple of teenagers who laughed loudly at the next table. It was five past five. There was yet no sign of his potential roommate. Jung Hoseok was his name. Yoongi had never met him, but he had sent a very enthusiastic email where he told Yoongi just how perfect of a roommate he would be. Yoongi figured he would give the guy a chance.
Five more minutes ticked by, and Yoongi had long since finished his coffee when the sound of clinking glass woke him from his thoughts.
“Are you Min Yoongi?” A young man asked, placing a tall glass of iced tea on the table. Yoongi hummed a confused affirmation.
“Yeah.” He said, looking up to meet the stranger’s eyes.
“I’m Jung Hoseok.” Jung Hoseok continued, a wide grin stretching his cheeks. Yoongi found himself breathless. Jung Hoseok had unruly black hair, lean muscled arms and a face that shone brighter than sunlight.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” He said.
“Fine. It’s fine.” Yoongi stuttered.
Hoseok was a ridiculously cheerful in the mornings. The first week of living together not a day passed by without Yoongi being woken up by the clatter of pans, or broken singing in the shower, or just Hoseok standing in his doorway wishing him a good morning. Yoongi responded to this by burying his head in his pillow with a groan loud enough to make Hoseok laugh. Hoseok had a very loud laughter.
Hoseok was also a really experimental cook. Now, Seokjin had been a blessing, with his delicious home-cooked meals always waiting for Yoongi after a long day of classes. Just the thought of his kimchi stew made Yoongi’s mouth water. Only it was Namjoon who got to enjoy all that now. Yoongi was stuck with weird foreign recipes that Hoseok had dug up on Google and translated with his phone. Sometimes it was fantastic, other times they ended up having to order takeaway at half past eleven just so they could eat. After a month Yoongi texted Seokjin and begged him for some kimchi stew lunchboxes to put in the freezer. Seokjin laughed.
I addition to all this Hoseok also had a very different view on the term personal space. They had lived together for two months, and Yoongi had gotten more back-hugs while he brushed his teeth than he could count. Hoseok seemed to always crave physical contact. He brushed Yoongi’s shoulder, tousled his hair, playfully pushed him into things and – to Yoongi’s chagrin – always ended up cuddled into Yoongi’s side during movie nights. Now movie nights were different, too. Seokjin had loved watching Yoongi’s horror films, as had Namjoon. The three of them had watched so many that they could predict the ending to almost any new splatter flick that came out. Hoseok had watched none. It wasn’t that Hoseok was a coward, but at the same time he kind of was. He hated snakes, spiders, ghosts, darkness, heights, and pretty much anything that your local department store would decorate with for Halloween. So the cuddling during movie night wasn’t only due to his tendency for skinship, but also because he had to bury his face in something whenever there was a trace of blood on the screen. Yoongi had laughed the first time. Then Hoseok had pressed his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and whimpered. That had shut him up.
In many ways living with Hoseok was a nuisance. Or, so he told Namjoon when they met up for coffee after four months of their new living arrangements.
“Last week he had a sing along to the lion king soundtrack. It was seven thirty. And he can’t sing.” Yoongi sighed into his Americano, eyeing Namjoon when his only reply was a barely concealed chuckle.
“Neither can Jin, but I prefer not to tell him that.”
“And he bought yellow curtains. Yellow! They’re ugly as fuck, and I have to look at them every fucking day.”
“Mm.”
“And he used up all of my shampoo. He says he didn’t, but I can smell it on him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you won’t believe what he did yesterday…”
Namjoon listened, hummed, chuckled, and when they said their goodbyes an hour later he went straight home to eat Seokjin’s delicious kimchi stew. The moment he stepped through the door his face split into a wide grin.
“Jin.” He said, “I think Yoongi’s in love.”
Once, two years ago when Seokjin still lived with Yoongi, Seokjin had accidentally woken Yoongi up at seven thirty by dropping a frying pan on the floor. Yoongi had stumbled into the kitchen in a zombie-like state and growled that this fucking flat is in my name and I can throw you out in a fucking heartbeat if you ever do shit like this again. Seokjin had apologized, although he knew the threat was more bark than bite. He never once disturbed Yoongi’s sleep again.
Another time Seokjin had finished Yoongi’s cereal and Yoongi had forced him to run to the shop in a snowstorm to buy some more.
That’s just how Yoongi was. Not necessarily cruel, but ruthless to those who angered him. He had little to no patience, and was prone to always get his own way.
A perfect roommate to Yoongi was someone much like Seokjin had been: quiet, polite, organized and perhaps with a shared interest or two.
Hoseok ticked none of the boxes, yet there they were, six months down the line, and Yoongi had yet to remove the hideously yellow curtains. He had gotten used to them, he argued. They reminded him of sunshine, much like the grin Hoseok would give him every morning.
Things were different with Hoseok, yet they felt okay. They felt great, actually. Yoongi couldn’t put his finger on why, until one night in mid February. It was the seventeenth. Yoongi knew because he had a report due in two hours, and a dawning realisation that told him he wouldn’t make it on time. He was sat at the kitchen table, writing frenetically, when Hoseok came home from his dancing class.
“Deadline?” He asked, and Yoongi nodded.
“Midnight.”
“Tough.” Hoseok leaned against the counter. He was still dressed in baggy pants and a sweaty tank top that hung low on his shoulders. He looked good. Not that Yoongi noticed, being so wrapped up in his writing. Now, if Hoseok would just stop disturbing him that would be-
“I changed shifts with Jimin tomorrow. He’s gonna cover all my classes.”
“Okay.”
“I just thought it would be nice to have the night off, you know? As a treat.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You do know what day it is tomorrow, right, Hyung?”
“What?” Yoongi lifted his head just in time to see Hoseok roll his eyes.
“I can’t believe my roommate forgot my birthday.” He whined, voice filled with obviously faked disappointment. “You’re the worst friend ever.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, fingers stopping mid sentence and mouth moving without sound. He must have looked more like a fish out of water than a human being. Silence filled the kitchen for a good few seconds before he finally managed to form words.
“No. No, or course not. I know. I’m well aware. I absolutely knew.” Yoongi was interrupted by Hoseok’s shrill laughter.
“Right, Hyung. Or course you did.” He snorted, before pushing himself off the counter, “I’m off to the shower. Good luck with that deadline.”
“Joon-ah!” Yoongi was whispering, but his tone was like he was screaming. Namjoon sighed through the phone.
“What did you do, Hyung?” He asked.
“Hobi’s birthday is tomorrow.”
“Yeah. You forgot, didn’t you?”
“No… Yeah. Yes. What the fuck do I do?” Yoongi’s voice was nearing a whine, and it was so hilariously uncharacteristic that Namjoon could barely stifle a laugh.
“I don’t know. Buy him food or something?” Namjoon’s voice was far too cheerful to match the pleading on the line. Yoongi groaned loudly.
“I buy him takeout every fucking week, that’s not special.” Does it have to be special, he’s your roomie not your husband Namjoon wanted to ask, but didn’t. He wanted to stay alive, thank you very much.
“Hold on,” He said, instead. “Jin just got a job at this restaurant downtown, I’m sure he could get you a reservation for tomorrow?”
Yoongi wasn’t sure how he ended up here, standing outside the doors of a far too fancy restaurant, dressed in an ironed white shirt and with Hoseok bouncing on his heels in excitement, right next to him.
“Oh my God.” He squealed, for the umpteenth time since they stepped out of the cab. “This is such a nice place, Hyung, you didn’t have to do this. Oh my God.” Yoongi shrugged in reply.
“It’s fine.” He huffed, just as a tuxedo-clad waiter met them by the door. It wasn’t Seokjin, but the knowing gleam in his eye made Yoongi suspicious. As soon as the stranger spoke his suspicions were confirmed.
“You must be friends of Kim Seokjin.” The waiter grinned, his mouth in the shape of a perfect rectangle. “Follow me, Sirs.”
As soon as they reached the table Yoongi wanted to punch someone. More specifically Namjoon, because this was no doubt his idea. The table was set with a white cloth and lit candles and a whole bunch of red roses spread over the top. Yoongi was just about to tell the waiter there must be a mistake, when he caught sight of Hoseok’s eyes. They were shining, almost as if he was going to cry, and when he turned to Yoongi his lips were stretched thin in the most breath-taking smile Yoongi had ever seen.
“Hyung, this is amazing.” He hummed, pulling out a chair for Yoongi to sit down. Yoongi could only oblige. He had never seen Hoseok like this before. He was happy, so happy his body seemed unable to contain all of the happiness and it seeped out through his gleaming eyes and wide smile. It took a while for Yoongi to be able to form words again.
“It’s really no trouble. I mean… It’s your birthday, after all.”
They had gotten through two courses, and were waiting for dessert, when Hoseok finally asked. Yoongi should have seen it coming, only he hadn’t, and when the question came it caught him so off guard he almost spat his wine across the white tablecloth.
“Is this a date?” Hoseok tilted his head, dimples showing in a slight smile.
The words hung in the air for a while. They hung above their heads, dancing over the lit candles, and the roses that had already started to fall apart into piles of red petals.
“I… Do you want it to be?” Yoongi managed, and Hoseok rolled his eyes.
“I asked you first, Hyung. Is that a yes?”
“Maybe?”
For some reason Yoongi expected things to change more than they did. When they got home the flat was still the same, the yellow curtains still hanging in the kitchen window.
Everything looked, smelled, tasted the same. Only, when Yoongi was turning in for the night Hoseok met him by his bedroom door and pressed their mouths together. It was a quick peck of lips, a fleeting touch that was there one second a gone the next. Yet Yoongi felt his heart stutter.
“Goodnight, Hyung.” Hoseok grinned, caressing Yoongi’s blushing cheek with gentle fingers.
“Y- You know…” Yoongi stuttered, just as Hoseok turned to go. “My bed is big enough for two… If you… I mean, if you want-“ He was interrupted with another kiss, and this time he could feel Hoseok smiling.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“How’s your roommate problem coming along then?” Namjoon asked over the rim of his coffee cup. They were sat in their usual spot in the small café close to campus. Yoongi had yet to touch his drink. Namjoon’s innocent question made his cheeks heat up.
“Fine. It’s fine.” He said, lips pressed tight together as he reached for his cup.
“Seokjin popped by the other day, he said you now have cushions that match the curtains.”
“Yeah.”
“And someone had broken the microwave.”
“That was me, actually-”
“And you have a huge hickey on your collarbone, and if you don’t start talking this second I’m gonna have to call Hoseok myself and get all the juicy details.”
Thirty seconds later Yoongi was thrown out of the café for pouring his coffee all over Namjoon’s shirt. It was worth it.
