Hoseok has the power to make anything from his imagination come to life. He uses this power to help out a depressed Yoongi. Written for cookiecrumbles over on AO3 as part of the Sunshine Hobi Fic Exchange. Please do not read further if triggered by: depression, nilihism, and other related concepts.

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At the young age of six, Jung Hoseok became a nihilist.

On his seventeenth birthday, he realized the source of his nihilism was due to his own conscience.

Ever since he could remember, Hoseok had the ability to manifest anything from his imagination. Anything he wanted. If he could dream it, it would appear. Any thought, any action, any material object - anything he wanted, he could have. Not in the metaphorical, ‘practice makes perfect’ sort of way. No, Hoseok literally had the power to make anything from his imagination come to life.

The sense of satisfaction that came from hard work and perseverance to achieve a goal? Yeah, Hoseok never felt that. He never had to. Why try hard when he could make anything happen at the mere thought of it or the mere desire for it? On the surface, his power was worthy of envy. Deep down, his power caused nothing but apathy.

Cue nihilism - the belief that life was meaningless, that nothing in the world really existed. If Hoseok could create something without exerting himself or wasting valuable time, then it was truly valueless because it was brought into existence without a purpose beyond temporary gratification. If something lacked purpose, did it really exist? Hoseok’s mind acted circularly, thus inevitably imprisoning him in existential anomie.

On his eighteenth birthday, Hoseok discovered a crack in the prison. He was waiting in line at a coffee shop desperate for the bitter taste of espresso on his tongue when a barista from behind the counter explained they had run out of espresso for the day. A new shipment was in transit, she assured him, but he’d have to settle for something else in the meantime. He tapped into his power supply to manifest a shot of espresso, just a single ing shot, but nothing materialized.

On that day, Hoseok realized he couldn't violate another creature's free will anymore. His newfound adulthood placed a limitation on his powers. Gone were the days of childhood innocence, of wishing for good grades and light-up sneakers. The Universe knew the damage adulthood did to humankind, and the damage human beings did to one another, so it restricted his unique power. Free will was now immune to his reactionary whims.

Relationships, interpersonal bonds between living, sentient creatures, were impervious to his abilities too. In other words, he could wish to find the love of his life and they would appear, but he couldn't make them love him. Emotions and perceptions were matters far beyond his control now. Ultimately, his abilities could not transcend the human condition.

Just like that, years of ennui whisked away by the intrusion of purpose. Suddenly, there was value in Hoseok’s life. Meaningfulness was enriching, truly, but by extension, the patience required to enjoy meaningfulness was appalling.

Patience may’ve been a virtue for everyone else, but Hoseok grew up uninhibited by such a virtue. See, there was an awful tendency to be impatient when he could materialize anything he fathomed. Yet he received his hardest lesson in patience the day he realized his attraction to men. He couldn’t force them to reciprocate his feelings. He couldn’t force them to send good morning texts. Before long, Hoseok discovered flirting and courtships were long, laborious repercussions of loving someone.

After four years of enduring the dating game, Hoseok met Yoongi.

Flirting and courting, none of it felt like a long process with Yoongi. Yoongi came into Hoseok's life like a silent wrecking ball - fast, steady, and prominent. His demeanor was mellow, but his presence was resolute. Every day was a new adventure. Yoongi showed him an entire world of beauty - a world so charming and energetic, full of diverse people with diverse minds, a world so intricate it was impossible for Hoseok to adequately extrapolate it.

For the first time in all his twenty-three years, Hoseok didn’t have to rely on his imagination for satisfaction, happiness, or entertainment. Yoongi was real, and he was all of those things. Yoongi was Hoseok’s absence of nihilism, despite the Universal restriction of his powers.

There was meaning in Yoongi’s gummy smile. There was purpose in his kisses.

As months rolled by, Hoseok used his powers less. Yoongi taught him the value of a good work ethic, determination, and perseverance. He applied to some universities, and with the gentle and patient support of Yoongi, he anticipated his future without tapping into his powers. Yoongi kept telling him life was so much sweeter when it was lived like this; and, for the first time in his entire life, Hoseok truly enjoyed the fruits of his labor, and they were sweet.

Hoseok slept much better, food tasted much better, and his life as a whole was much better. Yoongi had done so much for him. Hoseok was forever indebted. He offered several times to manifest Yoongi’s wildest wishes - to have a personal recording studio, to own the finest vinyl record collection in the world, to have a life-sized Kumamon plushie, anything and everything.

Yoongi wanted none of that if he didn’t actually earn it. Hoseok would have to seek alternate ways to pay Yoongi back.

But then, in the dreary chill of January, Yoongi started slumping his shoulders and curving the corners of his lips downward more often. Hoseok didn't realize what was happening at first. Yoongi’s presence was hollow and distant, which was not his usual demeanor. Hoseok felt stupid for not noticing sooner. He should’ve recognized the darkness lurking beneath Yoongi’s pupils. After all, Hoseok was no stranger to that darkness.

They had a fight one night. It was at the dinner table. Yoongi poked at his rice, chin resting in the saddle of his palm with his elbow on the table. He looked bored, disgusted by the food, or some combination therein. Hoseok initially ignored it, opting instead to down the remainder of merlot in the wineglass beside him. Maybe the merlot wasn’t the best choice, because it had him throwing accusations at Yoongi until he found one that stuck: ‘You seem so indifferent. Do you not care about me anymore?’ Yoongi’s fork made an unpleasant, metal-to-ceramic clamor as he dropped it on his plate, stood abruptly, and left.

They resolved their fight in the bathroom. Even though the shower was on, the sound of the spray crashing to the porcelain below wasn’t loud enough to muffle Yoongi’s sobs. He wasn’t even in the shower, it was just on for background noise and hollow company. He was half undressed with his shirt and belt on the floor, his pants fly ped, with his pants drooping low on his hips. An arm on either side of him held him up, but his head hung low in sorrow. When he cried, tears spilled into the sink below. Min Yoongi was never one to leave a mess.

They’d been dating for a year. Hoseok knew Yoongi’s little idiosyncrasies. That’s how he knew to knock lightly on the bathroom door until Yoongi sniffled up enough composure to respond. ‘Is it okay if I come in?’ Hoseok whispered softly, and though there was no reply, there wasn’t a protest either. When Hoseok opened the door, steam billowed out of the bathroom; the mirror was murky with condensation, and Yoongi’s milky skin was dewy.

Immediately upon making eye contact, Yoongi burst into tears again. He wasn’t the type to require soothing, placating words, and Hoseok knew that, so he just held him. With Yoongi’s head still hung, arms still planted on either side of the sink, Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist from behind and rested his cheek on Yoongi’s shoulder blade. He held him as he cried, softly at first, but then with a neediness and possessiveness he never knew he had.

Yoongi revealed he suffered from dysthymia disorder, or persistent depressive disorder. He’d had it for years, and it’s onset was often sudden and intense. It started as a loss of interest in daily activities, which caused a lack of productivity, which lead to a diminished self-esteem; all of that equated to an overall demeanor of indifference and apathy. To Yoongi, apathy was far worse than sadness, because at least there was emotion in sadness.

That was when Hoseok realized how he could pay Yoongi back for everything he’d done. He was going to give meaning back to Yoongi’s life. Yoongi didn’t deserve apathy. Powers be damned, he was going to make Yoongi feel every emotion he yearned to feel.

That was what a life of meaning was. A life of highs was not a life. Hoseok experienced that. Perpetual happiness would inevitably crumble to meaninglessness because there was no negative to counterbalance the positive. Humans could not understand happiness without sadness. A life of lows was not a life either, Yoongi experienced that. Humans could not appreciate the dark of night if they couldn’t learn to appreciate the sunlight.

But, worst of all, a life of neither was truly nihilism. Yoongi deserved better than that, Hoseok would know.

One day after work, Yoongi came home to a brand new turntable and a tall stack of assorted vinyl on his desk. Many of the vinyls were limited edition. Every single one of them were still wrapped in the protective plastic. The turntable was a classic three-speed embossed in silver. Another day, there was not one, but two life-sized Kumamon plushies laying on his bed. The one on the right cradled another new, signed, limited edition vinyl; the one on the left held a petite box embellished with a tiny bow. When Yoongi opened the box, a set of keys were inside. An address was written on the paper tag attached to the box.

Hoseok returned home an hour after Yoongi opened the mysterious box. He found Yoongi sitting cross-legged on the bed with the new vinyl spinning on the turntable. His face was buried in a Kumamon plushie as he squeezed it in a tight embrace. He was crying, but Hoseok didn’t know that until he placed a gentle hand on the elder’s shoulder. He caressed Yoongi’s tear-streaked cheek before kissing it.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asked.

Yoongi clutched the keys from the box in his palm. His voice was resolute as he asked, “Are you asking me to move out?”

Hoseok’s heart sank so rapidly he nearly lost his breath. “What?” He rasped. A sensation of impending doom grated at his nerves. It was crazy how just one sentence could provoke such a powerful, visceral response. “No! Absolutely not!”

“Why did you give me these?”

“Oh… oh my god, no. Yoongi, baby, I’m not asking you to move out. Those keys are part of a gift I got you,” Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi and embraced him tightly, his heart breaking at each whimper muffled into his chest from Yoongi. Wetness seeped through his shirt, dampening the skin below. “I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted it to be a surprise, but those keys go to a studio,” he explained as he gently Yoongi’s sapphire-black locks.

“What?” It came out of Yoongi’s mouth as more of a breath than a word.

“I saw an ad in the paper. A woman is renting out spaces in an old building with studios. It’s, uh… it’s not the greatest studio, and it definitely needs some renovating, but the rent is reasonable and it’s in a good location and-”

Yoongi straightened his posture and gripped his boyfriend by the shoulders. His lower lip was still trembling, but his eyes were wide and child-like, glossy from tears but bronze and shining. “You got a studio? For me? It’s mine?”

“Yes, babe, just for you,” Hoseok’s voice was full of mirth. He could feel his heart mending itself upon seeing Yoongi’s awestruck excitement. “But you have to promise me you’ll start writing and creating music again, okay? You’re so talented, and I hate to watch that talent go to waste--”

Yoongi launched himself at his boyfriend, sending them both onto the bed with a passionate ‘thank you’ kiss. Nothing ual about it, just passion and warmth and relief and gratitude. Between breaths he whispered, “I’ll do it,” before nipping Hoseok’s bottom lip teasingly.

 

The studio was small and boxy, white and pasty, smelt of damp drywall, but the door locked and the walls were insulated to reduce the noise clutter from the traffic below. Yoongi could live with that. Besides, the studio was located downtown and was one in a string of four personal studios nestled on the third floor of a large, multipurpose building. The building was old, but it had a quaint charisma about it.

Each studio had a tiny, rectangular window that popped open awning-style to let in fresh air; each window faced eastward, lighting up like vibrant tangerine lanterns in the glow of the setting sun. Yoongi squinted from the glow as he opened the window to air out the moldy drywall odor. Orange light poured in through the window, the light scattering about the small room in abstract angles. The outside air was refreshing, so he breathed it in deep into his lungs.

Hoseok carried a plastic bag in his hands when he returned. After finalizing the lease with the landlady downstairs, he stopped by the convenience store across the street to buy some instant ramen and other goods. There was a quick rustle of plastic, then a soft thud on the windowsill. It was a miniature succulent plant, the geometric kind with pretty growth patterns only nature could create. The orange light of the sunset made the green look earthy brown.

Yoongi do anything but smile, and he did so softly and subtly. He was adorable when he was bashful like this. Hoseok’s grin stretched across his entire face. He was beautiful when he gave like this.

“You know, if this place were to all of a sudden receive a miraculous renovation… I wouldn’t be opposed,” Yoongi mentioned, studying the way Hoseok’s lips parted just slightly at the implication.

Hoseok playfully asked, “Is that so?” Yoongi nodded. This was the first time Yoongi openly invited the use of Hoseok’s powers to create something. It was a different occasion, though, than the other times. This wasn’t about manifesting opportunities, this was about embellishing on existing accomplishments. This was about making his lover feel the joy of validation. “What color?” Hoseok continued.

Yoongi shrugged as he traced the old, bubbled wall paint with his pointer finger. “Yellow?”

“Your wish is my command, my love,” Hoseok cooed, taking Yoongi’s hand and planting a kiss on the ridge of his knuckles. Yoongi tried not to grin like an idiot but failed miserably.

Hoseok tapped into his powers and gave the whole studio a renovation, complete with new, golden-yellow walls and clean, neat flooring. Yoongi insisted the existing studio equipment stay, that it was doable and still far better than anything he’d ever hoped of having. Afterwards, they climbed the emergency exit ladder on the top floor of the building to hang out on the rooftop.

The night was black and the moon was full, and they settled on the dirtied roof floor to eat the instant ramen Hoseok bought from the convenience store next door. The coffeemaker they used to heat the water was old, so the water was lukewarm at best, but there was something cute about eating half-cooked ramen with each other on the roof… or so Hoseok claimed.

After their meal, they laid on their backs staring up at the night sky polkadotted with shining stars and other weird space stuff science had yet to understand. The weather was colder than desired, so they huddled together in an effort to preserve what little body heat remained; their breaths puffed out in clouds as they spoke and laughed.

“Look at the stars,” Hoseok sighed into the serene air of the night. Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement. Several moments passed by like the rush of traffic on the streets below. Then, in a sweet, honey-like voice, Hoseok asked, “What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Pisces,” Yoongi said without thinking too hard about it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t pondered the stars before anyway. Pisces was his astrological sign, so it was only natural to have an affinity for the dueling fish in the vast sea of stars above.

Hoseok made a noise as his nose crinkled. “That’s too cliche. It doesn’t count.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I like them all.”

“I could make you one… you know, to show you what I think of you,” Hoseok spoke in a quiet, low tone contrary to his usual demeanor. He chewed absentmindedly at his bottom lip as if he were mulling something over in his mind. When Yoongi turned his head to look at his boyfriend, hair falling into his sleepy eyes, Hoseok spoke before Yoongi could say anything. “I like using my powers like this,” he added carefully, nervously.

Yoongi stared at Hoseok’s face like he’d be testing on it later; he studied the twinkle in his boyfriend’s gaze and the slight part in his chapped lips, and even the wrinkle forming his skin from his mushed cheek against the roof floor. “It’s ‘cause you’re using them to make others happy,” Yoongi remarked, mirroring the soft smile on Hoseok’s moonlit face.

“You’re happy?” Hoseok asked with a certain breathiness to his voice. He was relieved, honestly. After everything Yoongi had done for him, Hoseok desperately wanted to alleviate all of his boyfriend’s sadness. He feared he never would. After all, he couldn’t find his own happiness until he met the raven haired boy, so he certainly wasn’t very good at creating his own, let alone another’s.

Yoongi nodded, features soft and dreamy just like the night they first met. “With you around, I am.”

There was a fluttering in Hoseok’s chest that made him feel panicked yet pleasant: overwhelming happiness. Turned out, the best kind of happiness was the kind that came from making others happy. He felt delirious, drunk on Yoongi’s good vibes and gummy smile. “I’m happy when you’re around too,” Hoseok said.

“Guess we gotta be around each other for a while, huh?” Yoongi peered back up at the night sky, adjusting the arm propping up his head all the while. His body language feigned nonchalance, but Hoseok knew Yoongi tended to retreat into his usual cool composure when things got sentimental. It was part of his charm. It signified to Hoseok that Yoongi was content.

Hoseok stole a quick kiss from the other, savoring the light essence of soy sauce that lingered on Yoongi’s lips from their classy ramen dinner.

“I think I can manage,” Hoseok said with a grin as Yoongi’s brown eyes grew large upon a nearly-formed, twinkling starcluster in the obsidian sky above.

 

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Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated.