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Jul 12, 2019

chasing fire | one-shot

❮ a oneshot from the all you’d never see series ❯ pairing: hoseok x reader; soulmate!au | fluff, a tad bit of angst word count: 7.1k ♪ : chasing fire - lauv (duh), no reason - heize warning(s): none synopsis:

You, Hoseok, and all the ways you fit together, jagged edges and all.

***

You are in your third year of high school, bleary-eyed and weary, when bright-eyed and cheery Jung Hoseok waltzes into your classroom and is immediately assigned to the seat next to yours.

It takes you one glance, just one, to decide firmly to yourself that he was the kind of person that you’ll only ever cross paths with once; like a pair of tangents, if you are trying to be poetic.

It also takes you one horrified downwards glance at the inside of your wrist where the soulmate timer dramatically ticks to zero to realise that you are dead wrong.

For a split second, you wonder if there has been some kind of mistake; Hoseok doesn’t seem to have noticed anything, only casting you a curious look before dropping his bag onto the floor and sliding into his seat. Suddenly tense, you try to school your expression back into one of indifference, smoothly tucking your hands beneath your thighs.

It isn’t a conscious decision to hide your timer, it just feels instinctual—to hide and wait it out until the confusion fades.

So you wait, gnawing on your bottom lip the whole time Jung Hoseok digs around in his bag for food and whips out a burger that he starts munching on. The crinkling of the burger wrapper, the incessant tapping of someone’s pen on their desk, the steady rushing of your blood in your ears: it all gets too much to bear, and you could feel yourself getting more on edge with every passing minute.

Except: Hoseok never realises his timer has ticked down to zero; never sends you a petrified glance, and never notices the billion and one times you try to steal a glimpse of him. He only finishes his burger, tries in vain to stifle a yawn, and dozes off on his desk twelve minutes later in the middle of first period.

You stare disapprovingly at his drooling form, your pen gliding across the pages as you try your hardest to take notes without having your thoughts stray to the zeroes burning on your wrist.

The two of you will never work out, that much you’re sure of.

***

You are two weeks into the academic year, and here’s the thing: everyone knows Jung Hoseok, because the other thing is: it’s downright impossible not to. It’s simple, really; he’s cheerful, for one, and is impossibly easy-going. The kind of guy who’d be easy to fall into, the kind of guy who’d be easy to get along with.

Most people have issues settling down when they transfer in their third year of high school, but for all the reasons stated above, Jung Hoseok fits in perfectly fine.

That, and he has a really pretty smile, but every time you see him he’s either half-asleep in class or plainly snacking on junk food, so you can’t really ascertain whether or not his smile can “rival the sun” or whatever it is that a couple of first years had squealed about when you passed them in the hallway.

And so the thing is: everyone knows Jung Hoseok, i.e Namjoon and Jimin are hardly exceptions, and you don’t know why you thought otherwise.

“Hey, remember that dance showcase I was talking about?” Jimin talks loudly through a huge mouthful of rice, the grains spewing out and a couple landing on your shirt. You scrunch your nose in disgust and flick the grains back at him before you let out an affirming grunt.

He probably couldn’t hear you over the loud buzz of the school cafeteria, and repeats himself, spurting even more half-chewed rice everywhere, much to the ire of both you and Namjoon. But Namjoon ends up only sighing resignedly, and you follow, because Jimin is Jimin and will always be Jimin.

The three of you had grown up together; and by grown up together, you mean this: you, Namjoon, and Jimin had lived in houses directly across from each other all your lives, and were the only kids in your neighbourhood that hovered around the same age range, so the ensuing playdates were practically already set in stone. That being said, both you and Namjoon just ended up babysitting a very adorable but bratty Jimin more often than not, though the latter had mellowed out a lot as he entered adolescence.

The snot-nosed brat you had seen in diapers had then easily landed himself in the same high school a year after you and Namjoon had been accepted, and had been too shy to make new friends that he ended up spending every lunch break glued to your sides. That is, until he found his soulmate in one Kim Taehyung, and started to cancel on lunch plans with increasing frequency, that traitor.

Said traitor is talking again, this time with his mouth not full, “Turns out Jung Hoseok is joining the team; he’s picking dance as his extracurricular.”

You frown, unsure of what to do with this information and not liking where this conversation is going, but before you can feign indifference with a weak ‘yeah and?’ Namjoon beats you to it, chiming in, “I’ve seen him around the underground rap scene too, he seems like a cool guy.”

Jimin visibly brightens at that, and if you were uncertain before, now you definitely do not like the direction this is going in, “Great! So the two of you kind of know each other, I was worried it’d be awkward since I invited him to join us for lunch today.”

“You what?”

Both your friends turn to give you a curious raise of the brow (the resemblance between the two is uncanny; amazing what growing up together can do to people), but only Jimin speaks, slowly this time, with his tone riddled with confusion, “I invited him to lunch? Since he’s new and all, and it’ll be nice to get to know him.”

Then he glances at how your knuckles have turned white from clutching onto your chopsticks too tight, “Unless you don’t want him here? It’s no big deal, I could just—”

“No, it’s okay,” you resume eating to regain back some semblance of normalcy, shovelling chicken down your throat at breakneck speed, “It’s cool. I’m cool.”

Namjoon squints at you.

Jimin squints at you.

You squirm, “I’m fine, I promise.”

Cue: Jung Hoseok shows up, lunch tray in hand and easy smile on his face, and you’re not really fine. You make the startling realisation that his smile really is as pretty as they claimed it to be, and at the same time, your heart thumps loudly in your chest as your soulmate timer throbs almost painfully.

Curse the goddamned universe; you never asked for this.

“Uh, is she okay?” you hear Hoseok whisper to Jimin while he slides into his seat, lunch forgotten and focused only on peering worriedly at how the colour is slowly leaving your face.

So yeah, you freeze up a bit, it’s not like you can help it, seriously.

“Don’t mind her, she gets all weird sometimes,” Jimin’s attempt to brush it off with a laugh is really not doing it for anyone, but Hoseok lets it slide, because it’d be weirder not to.

Hoseok promptly proceeds to spend the rest of lunch being really nice company; he’s funny, and doesn’t overshare. He asks about what everyone’s up to, who’s dating who, and shares a couple of hilarious anecdotes.

You stay silent during the entire time he’s here, until the bell for fifth period rings and you mumble an excuse to leave.

Jung Hoseok is nice, and that scares you even more.

***

Here’s something that has probably been said one too many times, but you’re going to say it again anyway: you don’t believe in love. Not the love-at-first-sight kind, not the I’d-follow-you-to-the-end-of-the-world kind, and definitely not we-were-meant-to-be-together kind.

It’s all bullshit to you, and that’s putting it nicely.

People are cold; you’d seen it all growing up, when you were eight years old and had your face pressed up excitedly against the window while waiting for your father to come home, only to see him swapping spit with someone who’s definitely not your mother. People grow tired of each other; and you’ve witnessed that firsthand when you were ten and had to watch your mother numbly drink herself to sleep after their third fight of the week. (Yes, you counted, on your stubby little fingers, before you cried yourself to sleep every night.)

Most of all, people keep up appearances; as far as the business world was concerned, your parents were a power couple, the perfect match: a charismatic man with extraordinary business sense and a woman who was as intelligent as she was beautiful. It’s almost as if fate had outdone themselves by pairing them up together, but then again, no one knew that behind closed doors, they really were just two tired individuals stuck in a loveless marriage, bound by numbers on their wrists.

Seeing Jimin with Taehyung makes you doubt yourself sometimes; maybe love does exist for some special people out there, the kind of people with the purest of hearts and the sweetest of souls. If there was anything you can trust to never change, it is the way they’d look at each other as if they’d gladly give each other their entire world.

But then again, you can never know what’ll happen in the future, some asshole somewhere in your head will unhelpfully supply, and you’ll wave that thought away as you try to tamp down the guilt in your gut.

Regardless, even if love exists for some people, you know with burning certainty that the same will never apply to you.

“You’re too wrapped up in your own head, try and be a little less selfish, and maybe then people would learn to like you,” your mother had said to you one night, pausing for a bit before downing her glass of brandy.

“You always seem uninterested, I’m sorry that we bore you,” 14-year old Woo Seori had sneered in your face during third period gym, and had never spoken to you again since.

So you try to reach out more even when you feel like withering away on the inside, smile more even when you don’t feel like it, and ask empty questions you never mean just to fill up silent voids. You take care to never come across as selfish, and it snowballed into you always bottling up things that actually matter.

Because, even if you are undeserving of love, you never want to be left all alone.

Eventually, the effort becomes too much, and you stop, deciding to only let a few people in and keep even fewer people close.

Both Jimin and Namjoon got sick of whacking you upside the head and forcing you to reconsider your skewed perceptions over the years, but Namjoon especially, has always been extra pushy when it comes to testing your “people limits”, as he called it.

Which explains why he’s pulling the Childhood Friend card and dragging you kicking and thrashing out of your room on a Friday night for some live performance at some bar.

At least, that was all you caught from him before you spat out something like “hey look 2chainz” so that you can pull out of his hold and sprint back up to your room, but Namjoon, for all his clumsiness, can run pretty damned fast when he tries, so you didn’t get too far.

Twenty minutes later, you are defeatedly strapped into a taxi (because Kim Namjoon actually owning a drivers’ license should be illegal), presentably dressed and grumpy, “Why am I here and where are you taking me.”

Namjoon is looking slightly weary after the whole debacle, but the triumph on his face is clear, “Hoseok’s invited me to his performance down at the Blue Side tonight, so you’re coming along. And Jimin’s meeting us there with Taehyung, in case you’re wondering.”

“And why am I here again?” you complain loudly, throwing half your limbs over Namjoon in hopes that he’ll somehow relent. Fat chance, because he only squirms his way out of your hold with practiced ease.

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” he doesn’t even look at you when he says that, gazing out the taxi window like he’s some melodramatic lead in a 2009 Taylor Swift music video.

“What do you mean?”

“You act really strange around Hoseok; oh come on, I’m in the same class, you didn’t think I noticed?” huffing, Namjoon finally turns to look at you, eyes as unwavering as they were 10 years ago when he first told you he accidentally snapped your favourite doll in half, “And that isn’t helping things.”

You follow his line of vision, which eventually lands on—oh, your soulmate timer. Really, you’ve been covering it up as much as you can without being too obvious about it, but nothing ever gets past Namjoon, and you should really know that by now.

“I—“

“I’m not gonna ask you to tell me everything,” he cuts in gently, warm palm giving yours a squeeze, just like he did when you were kids, “Just promise me to stop shutting yourself in and give it a chance, okay?”

Even you don’t believe the flimsy and weak “okay” that escapes your lips, but Namjoon seems satisfied regardless and shoots you a full-blown dimpled smile.

You smile tentatively back, letting out a slow exhale as the cab pulls up to the back entrance to Blue Side and Namjoon leads you in. (“Performers’ privileges,” he explains when you give him a questioning raise of the brow.)

And expectedly, the bar is everything you hate and more. It’s not as if it’s your first time here; Namjoon is a regular performer here so you’ve been around a couple times to cheer him on, but you can never really get used to the suffocating crowd and the mass of sweaty bodies. The heat always gets too much for you to bear and each time you’re here you just end up gravitating towards empty booths at the back.

Your plans are effectively foiled by a petulant Namjoon who refuses to let you slide into a booth all by yourself, and he drags you all the way to the front of the hyped up crowd. Hoseok’s already starting to amp up the performance by the time the two of you push your way through, and there isn’t a simpler way to put this: he radiates.

He’s laid-back and spits fire at the same time, his movements so fluid that it almost appears as if he’s gliding across the small wooden stage: a natural-born performer. Only dressed in a t-shirt and some ripped jeans, but he commandeers the crowd with immense energy and control. Watching him is magnetizing, the pull towards him is strong, and it all gets too overwhelming for you in the moment, with your timer still throbbing and throbbing and your head still pounding from the noise and the heat and yet in spite of it all—

You can’t look away.

The two of you lock eyes for a moment right after he ends off the performance, and you think you can see the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile, but it’s too much to handle, so much that it’s only instinctual for you to rip your eyes away from his and to do one thing you do best: run away.

***

A couple of years ago, you had a big fight with Namjoon.

Growing up with each other is pretty much synonymous with invading personal space and crossing boundaries; it’s easy to get lost between the blurred lines, and it’s easy to catch feelings if you’re not careful. That was essentially what had happened to Namjoon, with whom you spent too much time lounging around with, legs crossed over each other’s, breaths mingling when you wrestle him to the floor one too many times.

He’d confessed, and in your confusion you’d shut yourself out. Okay, and you’d also said some hurtful things, like how he’d only liked you because he hadn’t had a soulmate timer, and then he’d said something about your lack of self-worth incapacitating your emotional capacity, and then Jimin had cried while being stuck in the middle of it all.

You had made up not long after, because a frustrated Jimin was truly a force to be reckoned with, but the point is you should have learnt to stop shutting yourself away when things are bothering you, yet you seem fiercely determined to live life with the motto that all would be well if you just stop thinking about it.

So, against all better judgement (you have a Namjoon in your head screaming at you, but you don’t even listen to the real Namjoon, so the Namjoon in your head can just shut up), you ignore the problem and wait for it to snowball into something big, because you’re an idiot.

Which explains this: Jung Hoseok has tried to approach you a total of seven (7) times, all of which you had either gone to extreme measures just to avoid, or had shot him a placating smile before reaching for your bag and scrambling for the nearest exit.

Which then explains this: the Chemistry teacher is presently in the middle of a very important lecture about ionic equilibrium, and you are trying your best to zone out, but Hoseok isn’t even trying to give you a break. Actually, he’s pelting you with paper balls every chance he gets.

“Stop that,” you hiss, one hand reaching for the one that landed directly on top of your head.

“No,” he replies simply, tearing another corner of his worn textbook to toss at you, “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

You’re embarrassed he noticed; you didn’t think he’d care, “I wasn’t…avoiding you?”

“Yeah that was convincing,” he doesn’t stop with the paper assault, but does pause for a second to jot down some things on the board, “Come on, did I do something wrong?”

“No—”

“The two of you over in the back,” Mr Kang not so kindly interrupts, with his googly glasses perched on the edge of his nose and all, “Maybe you should take your conversation outside.”

The class sniggers, and there’s a little commotion when your horrified look contrasted sharply with Hoseok’s cheeky grin, but soon enough the two of you were outside the classrooms and in the corridor, having being made to stand with both your arms raised high above your heads.

It’s suddenly silent when it’s just the two of you outside, and all you can hear is the steady clunk of chalk hitting the board every once in a while, all while your timer throbs and throbs and throbs.

And then—

“Won’t you tell me why?”

Maybe you’re imagining things, but he looks crestfallen and a little hurt, with his usual confidence mellowing down to hesitation and uncertainty.

Your timer throbs and throbs and throbs, and for fuck’s sake you’d really like to fling your wrist across the Pacific if you could get it to stop doing that. The sensation is far from welcomed, and it makes you all fidgety, like there was an itch beneath your skin.

“I know about us,” Hoseok suddenly speaks again, steely eyes training themselves on you after darting briefly to your half-exposed wrist.

The world stops, and you feel your fingers go cold, “About…what?”

His gaze hardens, but the hurt never leaves his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, I knew we were soulmates the day I first stepped into that classroom.”

“You knew?”

“Yeah,” hesitantly, he lowers both his arms, rolling up his left sleeve and stretching out his hand so that his timer is on full display, “I didn’t say anything because you looked so…disappointed when you figured it was me.”

Suddenly the floor looks really interesting, and you really want to be looking into anything but Hoseok’s sad eyes right now. You slowly lower your arms as well, fiddling with your sleeves so that your timer is no longer hidden; he deserves the truth, at the very least.

“I wasn’t disappointed,” you start, and try as you might, you can’t really keep the wobble out of your voice, “I just…didn’t think we would ever work out.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to speak, or maybe to curse you out, you’re not really sure because you cut him off, “We’re too different, and besides—”

You look down, your fingers rubbing small circles on your timer as if that’ll make the ink disappear.

“—I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Then there’s silence again, until all you can hear is once again the sound of chalk hitting the board. Another beat of silence passes and you can’t help but sneak a look at Hoseok.

Except he’s already looking back at you.

“You don’t have to,” he says softly, fingers grasping lightly at your wrist before lifting your hand up, pressing his lips gently onto the edge of your timer in a featherlight kiss, “You just need to believe in us.”

And your timer throbs and throbs and throbs.

***

Stiff dress with a ridiculously tight waistline: check. Random pearl necklace hanging around your neck as if it doesn’t cost more than your life: check. Sweaty palms and inflexible fingers: check.

The floor-length mirror right in front of you doesn’t show you what you want to see: you look as nervous as you feel.

It also shows: Hoseok hovering shyly at the entrance to the backroom, with slicked-back hair and a fitted navy tux to boot. Your first thought is that he looks exactly like the prince in every fairytale you’ve watched as a kid, but the first thing that you say is this:

“Why are you here?”

You turn around as best as you can on your stubby heels, rounding up on Hoseok and trying to sound accusatory but really just sounding like a panicked mess. It’s an important piano recital; some scouts from that music scholarship will be here, your piano teacher will be here, and more importantly, your parents and their little network of snobs will be watching. In short, you cannot afford to mess this up.

Hoseok’s eyes soften, the way they do every time he’s looking at you (and you always pretend to never notice), “Jimin couldn’t make it tonight, so he gave me his ticket.”

“That little traitor,” you curse weakly, because your stomach’s a bundle of nerves and also because it is not the first time Park Jimin is bailing on you to spend a night in with Taehyung.

Hoseok hovers for a moment more, before realising that every other performer has been called backstage and that the backroom is empty. He moves in awkward, short movements, like he isn’t really comfortable in his skin, and parks himself on a stool near the dressing table, hands between his legs like he’s not entirely sure what to do with them.

“Do you…not like that I’m here?” he asks, and you haven’t heard him this vulnerable ever since that day outside the classroom. Of course, you’ve seen him around since then, because Namjoon is relentless in dragging you to all of Hoseok’s gigs at the bar, and because Hoseok seemed to have picked up a habit of hanging around the music room when you’re practicing after school, and it had all been easy conversations and breezy smiles on his end.

You feel compelled to answer his vulnerability with nothing but honesty; for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel like running away.

“No, it’s not like that. You just,” you say while taking a few steps forward, noting your own trembling hands because you refuse to look him in the eye, “You make me nervous.”

“Happens to most people. I have irresistible charm.”

There he goes with that summery smile of his again; it’s like you and your stupid heart just can’t catch a break. You can’t help but let out a short laugh though, which is to be expected, really, Hoseok’s smiles are known for being contagious.

“You’ll be great out there. You’re already fantastic every time I hear you in the music room.”

“I don’t know,” you don’t notice immediately but somehow your voice has dropped to a whisper, “There’s going to be so many people watching.”

Gently, Hoseok takes your hands into his, and you take a moment to absent-mindedly marvel at his smooth palms and warm hands, “I’ll be watching.”

“I literally just said that you make me nervous,” you deadpan, but you don’t pull away. There’s just something about him that pulls you in; he’s like the sun, and you’re constantly being lulled into his orbit.

“And like I just said, you’re going to be great out there,” he smiles again, and if he could just stop smiling, maybe your heart can actually start beating normally again and you wouldn’t be worrying about the onset of a heart attack at the tender age of 18.

The stage coordinator, Yoona, peeks her head through the doorway, a knowing look on her face when she looks from you to Hoseok, “I know I’m definitely interrupting something here, but we need to get you backstage now. Come back after the show, lover boy.”

She’s probably laugh at how the two of you flush at the same time if she weren’t so busy hissing at the technical crew through her walkie talkie, but she only gestures for Hoseok to follow her out before she’s rambling about microphone set-ups and stage lights again.

With a parting squeeze on your hand, Hoseok mouths a quick goodbye before he leaves the backroom with Yoona, and you try to think about Chopin’s Etude in G# Minor rather than the persistent throbbing of your timer on your wrist and the blush high on your cheeks.

And when the curtains open to a stage that belongs only to you, you couldn’t help but seek solace in the audience. Only when you find a pair of bright eyes do you take a deep breath, and begin to play.

***

When you were younger, your parents had tried to get you into ballet the same way they had gotten you into piano: by dragging you screaming and kicking to lessons that they had signed you up for without your consent.

Piano worked out well in the end; you found the big black shiny piano beautiful, and you seemed to hold some semblance of musical talent in those small fingers of yours, so it stayed, and you stopped kicking up a fuss whenever the babysitter of the week took you out for your weekly lessons.

Ballet was a separate story altogether, and it all came down to your and your lack of hand-eye coordination. Your limbs were too stiff, you were too awkward moving in front of people, you were unable to follow rhythms with your body, and the list goes on and on.

You’d eventually quit, but you’d always wondered how it was like to move so freely, and to express that with your entire being. It makes sense that Hoseok would be perfect at this; he wears his heart out on his sleeve, and it feels almost like he gives a little bit of himself to everyone he meets.

He loves freely, cries easily, and only says things he means with his entire heart. So it makes sense that he dances freely, moves easily and only performs with all of the passion that one soul can possibly hold.

When he dances, he’s like fire; ablaze and alive all on its own, uncontained like the way it should be, and the brightest amongst all. Almost a thousand people in the audience, and every single one of them are simultaneously electrified, eyes drawn to his radiance on stage.

It amazes and scares you at the same time; the radiance blinds you, and you’re not ever sure that you would measure up to perfection personified.

But you still show up at every single performance ever since Hoseok’s abashed invitation to the first major dance showcase earlier in the year: music festivals, b-boying competitions, the occasional beach parties.

Sometime later in the year you start to think, that if Hoseok was fire, then you’d rather risk a burn than not experience its warmth at all.

***

Jimin and Taehyung look unimpressed, and if you look a little closer, you can even see their left eyes twitching in sync, like the perfect pair of soulmates they are.

Namjoon would have joined in if he hadn’t bailed on the outing, because quote unquote, “I must look like an idiot to you if you think I’m gonna spend my Saturday fifth-wheeling two of the most annoying couples I know”.

The four of you were standing next to the cotton candy kiosk in the middle of Lotte World, and if your lives were an American sit-com, there’d be dramatic close-ups for a good 30 seconds while all of you stand facing each other.

“Why do you like these things?” Hoseok outright whines, and he even pulls out all the stops, including the puppy eyes he knows you cannot refuse.

“Rollercoasters are the reason I exist, Hobi,” you huff back, and this time your weapon of choice is a pout.

“And you call me dramatic.”

The whole stare-off concludes when you give in to his kicked-puppy look (because let’s face it, it was going to happen anyway). Shortly after, Jimin and Taehyung roll their eyes and announce that they’re taking on the rollercoasters no matter what, so the four of you go your separate ways.

The rest of the amusement park date was spent with Hoseok clinging on to you like an overgrown koala bear and kissing you all over while you go on a personal mission to eat every flavour of ice cream available, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

“Horror,” you glare at Hoseok from the other side of the couch.

“Action,” he glares back, though his is significantly less threatening in part due to the massive handful of popcorn he has stuffed in his mouth.

“Horror,” Jungkook, Hoseok’s adorable next-door neighbour whom you’ve somehow managed to befriend within the span of two short weeks, chimes in, looking a little more excited than he should considering the fact that he’s a middle schooler who’s snuck out without telling his mom (and without doing his math homework).

“Jungkook, come on, take my side and we’ll put Iron Man on,” Hoseok turns sharply to grip Jungkook’s forearm pleadingly.

“Absolutely not, this will be the fourth time we’re watching Iron Man this month,” Yoongi scowls from the other side of the living room, having just emerged from the kitchen after microwaving the third batch of popcorn.

Looking around at the seven other people invading your previously big and empty living room, you realise all of a sudden that it’s amazing how quickly the two of you have integrated each other into your lives.

Movie nights used to be a haphazard affair between you and your two childhood friends; anytime you were all free the three of you just huddled on your too-big couch, put on a random movie and end up falling asleep on one another.

Now, movie nights were a sacred weekly event that happens strictly on Fridays. Fridays are when Hoseok and Jimin get off early from dance practice, Namjoon and Taehyung’s student council duties wrap up in the early afternoon, and you don’t have piano lessons scheduled. Jungkook’s Jungkook, so really, he just sneaks out whenever he wants to, so he’s irrelevant in this particular narrative. Yoongi and Seokjin, Hoseok’s childhood friends who were introduced to you soon after you stopped being an emotionally constipated moron, come back from their university dorms in the city and arrive in town every Friday evening.

And yes, they are both soulmates and roommates, so there’s that.

“I vote horror,” Yoongi grins as he settles into his space next to Seokjin on the adjacent loveseat, “I wanna see Hobi freak out like he did last Halloween.”

Liar, he just wants Seokjin to jump every ten seconds so that he can act all cool and nonchalant when Seokjin plasters his face to his chest, but you’ll take what you can get.

Amidst Hoseok’s vehement protests, lights are dimmed and The Exorcist is put on; and as expected, by the time the movie has reached its midpoint, Jimin and Taehyung both have their eyes glued to the screen, hands still tightly clasped together, while Jungkook had already emptied three bowls of popcorn. Yoongi’s looking too smug for someone who has to deal with a yelping Seokjin every 3 seconds, and Namjoon’s so invested in the movie he’s been asking and answering his own questions while people pay him no mind.

On your side, you’ve been laughing so hard at Hoseok’s reactions you’ve gotten stitches in your left side, and he’s given up entirely, choosing instead to just bury his head in your shoulder for the remainder of the movie.

And in the big penthouse where you’ve often been left all alone, you finally feel like you’re home.

***

Fall descends on all of you much like the withering leaves that flake off branches: slowly, steadily, and with a hint of melancholy. None of you really bring it up explicitly during conversations, but the college entrance exams are rapidly approaching, and with it comes questions about the future and the uncertainty it holds. For you and Hoseok, and for this little group of people you’ve come to cherish and love.

“It’s cold,” Hoseok complains while rubbing your hands together in a weak attempt to generate more body heat; jokes on him, your fingers are so cold they may as well be icicles.

“You’re cold,” you grumble, even though you’re all bundled up in a woollen sweater so large you look like you’re drowning, with a beanie pulled snugly over your ears. Hoseok only hums placatingly and pulls your beanie all the way down so that it covers even your eyes.

The walk to the town library feels longer than it used to, mainly because college exams were rounding up on you next month and the two of you have yet to discuss what you each plan to do with the rest of your lives. And now’s a good time as ever, except suddenly your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and your throat closes up when you try to speak.

Hoseok’s busy cooing over the tiny schoolchildren crossing the road across the street to notice that you’ve been silent this whole time.

He’s still squealing over this one kid with a duck hat when you steel yourself and say:

“I got a scholarship.”

That immediately shut him up, though you have to admit, that kid in the duck hat is pretty darn cute.

He turns to face you, slowly, and you would usually tease him for being dramatic, but he has his serious look on, and then the two of you aren’t even walking anymore.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you,” grinning widely, he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, and you laugh before patting his shoulders rapidly because knowing Hoseok, he’d be dramatic again and start spinning you around out of nowhere.

He laughs again, and you laugh, and everything feels right, with the two of you and your matching beanies and the way the leaves fall perfectly all around you. And then—

“Where to?”

It’s an innocent question, of course it is, but it sucks all the joy out of you all the same.

“Boston, Hoseok,” the words can’t escape you fast enough, and you find yourself wanting to get it all out in the open so that this can finally stop weighing on your chest, “The school’s halfway across the world, but it’s Berklee, and I can’t believe I got accepted, I can’t believe that I was ever good enough for me to have a place there, but I love you so much I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Somewhere along the word vomit you had started crying, the ugly kind of crying, with fat tears leaking from your eyes and your nose running even more because of the weather. You vaguely register Hoseok making a sound of distress, before soft and warm hands were coming up to rub gently at your cheeks.

You think he sounds a little heartbroken when he says this.

“Why don’t you ever think you’re good enough?”

His words make you quiet; has this been it the whole time?

“Even when we first met, you were scared because you didn’t think you deserved someone who loves you as you should be loved,” his face was blurring because of all your tears, but his voice was firm, and unwavering, as he has always been, “And I wish you saw yourself the way I see you; a beautiful person who deserves the world and beyond.”

“I can’t give you the world, but I can give you all of me. And I promise you’d still have it all, whether you’re in Boston or right here with me.”

To his alarm, he makes you sob even harder. The scholarship letter had come in the mail last week, and the ensuing nights had been sleepless and filled with a million scenarios of how you’d lose the one person closest to your heart. The relief is overwhelming, and the weight of his love and his adoration for you washes over you, alongside habitual disbelief that anyone could ever love you so much and mean it.

Hoseok chuckles when he sees that you’re smiling through your choked up tears, and he hugs you even tighter, and it’s still so cold but you feel so warm.

It feels nice, to love and be loved, and to know that you are deserving.

***

It’s frustrating, how time passes so swiftly when you’re counting all the seconds and wishing for them to last longer.

You want to collect them all: quiet moments spent in the library with you pelting paper balls at Hoseok’s head until he stops drooling over his worksheets, movie nights being temporarily replaced by study sessions led by Namjoon (while Jungkook games on your console, with Yoongi and Seokjin napping on the couch like the old men they are), the gang of you scrambling after the hotteok man on particularly chilly evenings.

But the exams whizz by, and it’s graduation day.

“I can’t believe the both of you are leaving me all alone in this hellhole,” Jimin wails when Namjoon finishes giving his valedictorian speech and the lot of you are gathered at the back of the assembly hall.

Taehyung sniffles haughtily from behind Jimin, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, “You’re not alone. Your soulmate is literally just there.”

“Let a man have his moment, Joon,” cries Jimin as he reaches over to dramatically hug the both of you.

With a dead look in your eyes, you pry his hands off your waist, “Moment over. Now go help us take some pictures.”

Jimin acts all huffy for all of two minutes before he charms a junior photographer into taking a photo of all of you, and it looks like this: Jimin having Jungkook (who skipped class just to come, seriously) in a headlock, while Taehyung tickles the shit out of the poor boy. Yoongi’s looking like a dad with that proud gummy smile full on display, Seokjin’s looking like the model he is, Namjoon’s been captured mid-blink looking dopey, while Hoseok plants a kiss on your head right before the camera flashes.

Your parents couldn’t make it; they had urgent business out of town, and sent some flowers in their stead. But it doesn’t matter, not when you had your own family right here.

You get that photo resized so that it fits in your wallet, and even getting teased a hundred times over it was worth it.

***

Jimin’s crying again, and it’s for real this time.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” sobbing, he clings onto your right shoulder as if he hasn’t been glued to your side since yesterday.

Jungkook has possession of your other shoulder, because he’s an absolute sweetheart even though he tries to be a smartass 98% of the time, “You can’t leave, who’s gonna stay up all night gaming with me now?”

You ruffle both their heads, “I’m not disappearing forever, idiots. I’ll be back during breaks, and we can always Skype if you want to see pixels of my face.”

“Shut up and let us miss you in peace,” Jimin groans, not without kicking you lightly in the shin.

“Yeah, no, get your grubby hands off my soulmate,” snorting, Hoseok tries (not without fail) to detach the two leeches.

Jimin and Jungkook reluctantly clamber away to join the others at the terminal’s burger joint. You’ve already said your goodbyes to the rest; Namjoon’s already given you a lecture on self-care, Taehyung has thoughtfully airdropped you an entire album’s worth of cute animal photos in case you need cheering up when you’re alone. Yoongi’s gravely informed you that he has connections in the States if you need to beat people up, Seokjin’s smacked his head and gifted you with a Nintendo DS with all the Mario games you’d ever need. All in all, it was a teary, lengthy goodbye, and only Hoseok’s left.

“Did you pack that dumb-looking mushroom plushie you can’t fall asleep without?”

“Yes, and don’t disrespect Rob like this, Hoseok.”

“Did you pack enough jackets? I know how much you can’t stand the cold—”

“Hoseok,” you start gently, “You helped me pack, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, I know, I just—it hasn’t sunk in that I’ll be waking up tomorrow and you won’t be there,” his voice has simmered down to a low murmur, “I’m gonna miss you so damned much.”

You don’t say anything back, instead you place your palms on his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss; kissing Hoseok always feels like tasting fire, and not for the first time, you let it consume you, unafraid and unwavering.

“We’ll be okay, you said so yourself,” it’s no good, you’re getting a little teary yourself, and you can see the pool of tears threatening to spill, “We’ll make this work. I believe in us.”

Hoseok lets a smile surface at that, even though his honey brown hair flops sadly into his eyes and the corners of his mouth are still slightly downturned, “Yeah, me too.”

You pull him in again, and let the fire consume you whole.

Your soulmate timer throbs and throbs and throbs; but this time you know for sure, that you’d find your way back to each other soon enough.

a/n: this is unedited and mayhaps a mess but i hope u liked it regardless! hmu in my inbox anytime if u wanna leave feedback or if u just wanna be bros :>

#btswriters #networkbangtan #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #hoseok fanfic

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