“hyung?”

he blinks, hoseok’s voice, familiar but not, laced with incredulity, cutting through his thoughts.

“seok-ah.” the nickname falls past his lips easily.

hoseok lingers by the doorway, there's sweat glistening on his forehead and dripping down his neck. he looks like he'd just come back from dance practice.

“yoongi-hyung?” there's the faintest hint of shock in jungkook’s voice and when yoongi looks up he yelps and half-hides behind hoseok, staring at the sofa as though he can't believe it's really yoongi there.

yoongi smiles, the barest twitch of lips. “hey kiddo.”

jungkook frowns. “i’m not a kid anymore.”

and he's not. he might've been a kid when yoongi left, heart in his throat and running in the only way that made sense at the time, but two years have worked wonders and jungkook is very clearly no longer a child.

“no,” he acknowledges, lips pressing together to fight the frown threatening to turn the corners down, “you’re not. sorry kookie.”

he turns to face hoseok, still hovering in the doorway, lean body blocking yoongi’s only way out. not that he’s planning to leave. at least, not yet.

“hyung,” jungkook starts, coming into view again and stepping under the light and god — when did he get so tall? “how come you’re here?”

“joon—, ah, namjoon wanted some help with his mixtape, so he…” yoongi trails off. as far as excuses go, he could’ve done way better, but jungkook doesn't seem to question it too much, slipping into his room with a “i’m gonna wash up first, hyung.”

hoseok mumbles some acknowledgement back and then turns around to face yoongi properly, face unreadable.

he tenses. “what?”

hoseok sighs, but says nothing, moving to sit beside yoongi, still with that unreadable expression. the silence stretches, long, but not necessarily uncomfortable and yoongi draws his knees up to his chest, watching hoseok in his peripheral.

a click of the lock and the sound of running water travels down the hallway and hoseok shifts to face yoongi. “why’re you really here hyung?”

he stiffens, it’s such a simple question. straightforward in the way hoseok's always been, and yoongi almost folds. but there's nothing, nothingstraightforward about yoongi and namjoon. there’s nothing simple about messy kisses and even messier confessions on the tip of his tongue. even if hoseok’s been there since the beginning. even if he's seen both him and namjoon at their very worst, and their very best. even if he's felt the ever-present tension, cackling like wildfire between them since day one, yoongi hesitates.

hoseok sighs, again, worry creasing his eyebrows. “i just hope you know what you're doing, hyung.”

it’s an echo of what hoseok's told him many times before: i hope you know what you're doing, hyung; please think about what you're doing hyung; hyung, did you think this through? but not when yoongi left. when yoongi left it was “hyung, stay.” and he's suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia, so strong that for one blinding moment he wishes, hopelessly, pointlessly, that he never left.

“i do,” he says.

he doesn't, and hoseok doesn't believe him either, yoongi can tell, but they both pretend that yoongi has his together and he's not headed for self destruction, anyway.

“okay,” hoseok acquiesces, then, “are you staying for dinner?”

he almost says yes.

“no,” he stands up, leans down to press a light kiss to hoseok's cheek, “i should go. tell kookie i said good luck for the comeback.”

“okay.”

he’s halfway to the door when—

“hyung.”

yoongi pauses, turns around.

“will you come back?”

yes, yes, because he always does. yes because he's never really been able to stay away.

“maybe.”

he has his hand on the doorknob and one foot outside when he turns back around, an apology, explanation, something on his lips.

“i missed you, hyung,” hoseok mumbles, before yoongi can say a word.

he swallows, eyes burning unnaturally hot, and forces a smile. “missed you too seok-ah.”

and then he's gone.