Min Yoongi stares at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He'd like to think he doesn't know what to do with it, but he does.

"Finally," whispers another voice in his ear. Yoongi ignores him; instead, he just smiles as he reads the messy handwriting at the back of a ripped piece of paper:

Paper Airplanes 101

For Dummies Like Min Yoongi

Only an idiot would need written instructions for paper airplanes. But as the note said so, Yoongi is an idiot -- that's how Hoseok saw him. 

"You've always looked like one hyung. Even when we were kids," he always said. 

7-year old Min Yoongi didn't know Jung Hoseok would be part of his life. He was just a boy told by his mother to buy spices at the Hwagae Market. He had no idea, as he browsed through the grounded spices, that the paper airplane landing in front of him would seal his fate. 

"Hey, mind giving me that back?"

It was the first words then 6-year old Jung Hoseok uttered to a bewildered Yoongi. The latter remembers feeling so flustered at the mega-watt smile of the younger boy. He also recalls being taken aback with his rudeness. The other boy stared at him, smile plastered and all, despite his silence. 

"Huh, are you okay?" he asked, "Can you hear me? Are you deaf? HELLO?" 

6-year old Hoseok waved his hand in front of 7-year old Yoongi, who was too surprised with this sunny boy from God knows where (he assumed the boy could be from the Jeolla Province; he wasn't too keen with folks from that area). But before he could say anything, the younger boy snatched the paper airplane under his nose, laughing as he did. 

"Ah you looked so funny when I did that!" remarked Hoseok, "You must be interesting! I'm Hobi, by the way! What's your name, hyung?"

That was the beginning of everything.

 "Hyung, what are you waiting for?" asks Hobi, "Go on. Read step 1."

Yoongi obliges.

Step 1: choose the right kind of paper. Any paper won't do, especially if you want a sturdy plane. 

Yoongi feels stupid as he walks around the shop. He doesn't understand why he needs a different kind of paper. Won't any do?

"No," hisses Hoseok. 

"Can I get you anything, hun?"

The shopkeeper's voice distracts him. He looks up and sees a kind  face gazing at him. She smiles at him; he flushes red in embarrassment. 

"Uh...anything I can make planes with?" he asks.

Hobi giggles mercilessly behind him. The shopkeeper's eyes, however, twinkle at Yoongi's cluelessness with crafts. She rummages in the cabinet behind her and pulls out a pad of paper in the shade of pink. 

"It's the only one we have."

Yoongi wishes he could melt right on the spot. Behind him, Hoseok complains loudly, urging him to buy it and get it over with. Besides, what was wrong with the color pink?

He tells the woman that he'll take it. 

"A special project, I assume?" asks the nice lady, inserting his purchase in a paper bag. Yoongi can only smile at her as he hands her the cash and takes his paper. Bidding her goodbye, he makes his way out.

"You look pathetic," comments Hoseok.

"Shut up."

Hoseok chuckles again as he follows Yoongi out of the store. Before he steps out, however, he takes out that crumpled piece of instruction and reads again. Without thinking, he takes a pen and adds his scrawl to Hobi's script.

Just like how I made sure you were the right one for me.

He decides he'll do this from now on -- add his thoughts. 

Step 2: Lay the paper down on a flat surface. Fold on both sides and don’t forget to create a small gap in the middle to give space for the tiny invisible pilot.

Just like how you made space for me in your heart.

The salty air of the bay comforts Yoongi as he folds his pink paper in half. Opposite him, Hoseok watches intently, clueless to the fact that the older boy sneaks a glance at him every now and then. Yoongi notices the wind playing with his hair, exposing his nice forehead.

"Make more than one, hyung," demands Hoseok.

"That's a waste of paper."

"But you'll surely mess up the first plane."

"Gee, thanks."

Hoseok's teasing smile appears as he continues to monitor Yoongi's progress.

"Leave space for the pilot!"

"I WILL. CALM DOWN."

Yoongi sighs as he inserts two fingers to widen the space for the invisible pilot. At the back of his mind, he wonders why Hoseok has always been fascinated with paper airplanes. It's not like he wanted to be a pilot. 

In fact, his childhood dream was simple.

"I just want to make people happy."

A large contrast to then 10-year old Yoongi's dream: he wanted to be a good rapper. He wanted to pour out his emotions and experiences, translate them into lyrics, and rap them to the world. He wanted to be one, but he didn't have the money to make it big. 

The underground scene was a poor boy's friend. It didn't have enough, but it was all he could do. 

"I could be printing flyers with these," complains Yoongi, "Don't you think--?"

Hoseok's gasps breaks his thought. The older boy then wonders why and looks at the direction Hoseok is staring at. He sees a familiar face -- someone they both know.

"Jimin-ah."

Yoongi can tell Park Jimin is surprised to run into him; it's written all over his face. For some reason, he can't look directly at Yoongi's eyes. He notices that Hoseok can't either; his gaze drops to the ground; his sunshine persona gone in an instant. 

"How have you been, Yoongi hyung?" he asks. 

Jimin was one of his dongsaengs when he started a career underground. The boy was part of the dance unit before he was accepted in a prestigious dance school. Before he left, they were pretty tight. He'd be the responsible hyung whenever Jimin would go wild and rogue.

Yoongi attributes the new prim and proper image to his dance academy life. He's new money, meaning he couldn't be the rugged B-Boy he used to be. But why was he so stiff and civil?

Well...you did him wrong, somehow, he reasons. 

"I'm fine," he answers, "You?"

"Better."

Silence.

Jimin shuffles uneasily. "Hyung...I heard about--"

"Yeah," Yoongi answers, not wanting to dive into that area again, "I know."

After another pause, Jimin shoves his hands in his pockets "Wish you the best, then," he says before turning his back and leaving. As he walks away, Yoongi hears Hoseok heave a sigh behind him. It's a sigh filled with guilt and regret. He doesn't have to say anything; the older boy already knows. 

"I loved him," says Hobi, looking at a distance, "I really did."

A twinge of pain jolts Yoongi's rarely used heart as he looks at Hoseok, whose face lost all the sunshine radiance. The sight of Jimin is enough to do that, which frustrates Yoongi -- reminding him of the dark days he endured silently. 

"Him and everyone else," he says out of spite. 

A soft touch raises the hair on Yoongi's skin. He feels Hoseok trace the outline of his wrist, marked with scars and cigarette burns. It's what he does when he knows he hit a nerve.

"I don't feel the same for the others," he tells Yoongi, "It's what I do."

The ill thoughts Yoongi buried within his subconscious resurfaces, triggering an unpleasant feeling. He coaches himself not to remember, not to go back to those nights he tossed and their shared mattress -- mind constantly panicking and wondering: What are they doing? Are they done?

But he had no choice. Hoseok was right: it came with his job. 

"Hey," comes Hoseok's voice, "Stop thinking."

"I just-"

He silences Yoongi with his finger on his lips. 

 "But you're the only one inside now." 

 Step 3: Proper folding makes a good plane. Fold the edges diagonally. Do it neatly, then fold again -- 

Just like how I folded you in my arms. 

The small-sized desk is a mess. Stacked papers threaten to fall, each piece carries a scribbled lyric or two.  By the edge sits a worn-out recorder, playing wordless songs because the earphone is unplugged. More music sheets are littered on the surface, but Yoongi doesn't bother to clean or write.

He's too busy with the planes. 

"Oh, what it'd be like to fly."

Hoseok's wistful tone breaks Yoongi's concentration. He turns around and sees the other boy sitting on the floor, back resting on the rusty bed they used to share. He watches Yoongi with fervent interest as the latter folds his 20th airplane. The last tries were so pathetic, he had to throw them away. 

"I've always wanted to fly somewhere far," continues Hoseok, "Just a breeze and vanish, you know?"

His voice sounded so wistful. Without thinking, Yoongi gets up and approaches Hoseok's huddled figure. He isn't the touchy-feely type; Hoseok knows that full well. But this doesn't stop Yoongi from wrapping his thin arms around Hoseok's shoulders, giving him that back hug he likes. 

Yoongi inhales the scent of Hoseok and feels a sense of satisfaction.

"This hug feels right," says Hoseok.

"Since when do hugs NOT feel right?" asks Yoongi. 

Immediately, the smile is wiped away from Hobi's face. The older boy wonders: what did I say? Is he okay? Did I offend him? Because that's the last thing Yoongi wants. 

"Most of the time, they don't," answers Hoseok.

And it finally dawns on him. 

It instantly repulses Yoongi, but he controls his face. He knows Hoseok can be sensitive with his reactions. The subject has been the core of their countless arguments, of Yoongi's resentments to the deities for giving him and Hobi such harsh realities, especially the latter. Poverty does no one any good, forcing a majority to serve other's greed and lustful desires.

It's not Hoseok's fault; it never was. The memories disgust Yoongi. 

But not Hoseok, never Hoseok. 

He pulls the younger boy in a tighter hug, fingers digging deeper into his skin. He sincerely wishes he could erase her troubles. 

But he can't.

"Oh, what it'd be like to fly," whispers Hobi again.

 Step 4: Draw on the edges of the paper. Don't be lazy. Add personality. Mark it.

"You're messing it up!"

Yoongi sluprs his soup anyway and bangs his spoon against the bowl for good measure. Hoseok, on the other hand, glares at him. The former doesn't mind; he grins tauntingly as he folds the wings of his 20th paper airplane near his oil-soaked noodles.

"Keep it away from the ramen!"

"Okay, okay," says Yoongi, pushing the bowls away, "Let me draw."

Hoseok looks at their surroundings with disdain. Yoongi's busy eating his favorite meal at one of the dirtiest eateries nearby. Hobi never really liked this place; it shows until now.

"Why'd you have to do it here?" he complains, "You'll spill food on it."

Yoongi looks up and sees that trademark disgusted look on Hoseok's face. He can't help but laugh; seeing Hobi apalled is always a funny sight. Nearby, customers stare at him questioningly, but he doesn't mind. He laugs and continues to draw.

"...supposedly tragic news today, but I told her: 'That comes as no surprise! Those kind of people had it coming!'"

Both Hoseok and Yoongi freeze. The latter sees the former's look of disgust transform into that of discomfort. Yoongi's not keen on listening to what the other customer has to say. But it can't be helped. 

"Back in my younger days, I'd hit anyone who'd do that for money," says one,  "Now, I'd rather not lay a hand on someone disgusting."

"Think of all the hands on that thing."

"Mortifying, I tell you. Like they're some sort of public property."

"And all for money! They're s I tell you. s and overused dishrags," concludes one customer.

Yoongi gazes at the crestfallen Hoseok. His heart aches as he watches the light of hope go out of his eyes. It's not their fault the world let them down. This isn't the reality they wanted, especially Hobi.

"Well, I still get to make people happy,"  he once said. But Yoongi knows this isn't his dream.

It's a nightmare he deals with everyday.

People will say he is nothing but a dish rag. What he does, the people around him -- everything should've warned Yoongi off. But no matter what he did, Hoseok is always that sunshine full of hope. An innocent victim of the system. 

He reaches out to cup Hoseok's chin. 

"Hey."

He looks up. How Yoongi wishes he could get rid of all the hurts in Hoseok's life.

"I love overused dish rags," he says. He leans over a kisses the downtrodden Hoseok, who closes his eyes. They hear the sound of disdain from nearby onlookers, but they don't care.

Just like how I marked you with my kisses.

Step 5: When all is done, check your work one last time before takeoff. Then, let it fly.

It's Hoseok's favorite time of the day: sky riddled with clouds and the right amount of sun. The wind blows timidly, the leaves swaying to its rhythm. 

After numerous tries, Yoongi finally makes the perfect paper airplane. He turns it over and smiles widely. From his peripheral, he could see an elderly couple looking at him, probably wondering: What's this idiot doing, grinning at a piece of trash?

They will never understand and Yoongi expects them not to. It will always be his and Hoseok's little secret.

"It didn't have to end."

He feels Hoseok's thin arms wrap around his waist, his head resting on Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi glances at him, admiring his cheeks pulsating with vibrance and those happy eyes. 

"There was nothing you could do," replies Hoseok, "It came with the job."

"That you couldn't quit."

Hoseok sighs. "I had to make people happy."

Yoongi looks at him properly, eyes feasting at the very image of the sun in person. 

"You can't go on like this forever," says Hoseok.

"I should've stopped you."

The younger boy stops him. Instead, he cups Yoongi's hands and holds the plane. Yoongi wonders what would've happened if Hobi had listened, if he held on tightly to him. 

"Let  it fly," says Hoseok, "I'll be happy."

Before he does, Yoongi takes out the crumpled piece of instructions once again. He takes out his pen and writes for one last time, finishing Hoseok's gift to him.

Just like how I let you go.

With that, he throws the plane and watch it fly with his goodbyes in tow. Yoongi's eyes then fall to the words engraved below him:

Jung Hoseok

18 February 1994 - 8 August 2017

A/N: So, yeah. It's the LOVE_YOURSELF campaign's fault. See you around!