One night when his narcolepsy gets the best of him, Hoseok keeps Jimin up with a story of how he had gotten his heart broken in Gwangju. He finishes with his escape to Seoul and the rejection that he found here, along with a ragtag group of boys who accepted him as their own.

He doesn’t elaborate much on the second part of the story; it’s one Jimin knows all too well.

“I still can’t fall sleep without someone,” Hoseok confesses, even though his throat dries up and makes his voice come out all scratchy. “Months after we’ve broken up and I’m still all – all messed up inside. I guess I’m just -”

Afraid, Hoseok thinks the word is. There are a couple of moments of silence after he cuts off, and Hoseok lets out a tinkling laugh.

“Sorry. This wasn’t very interesting and I’ve just burdened you anyway, gosh, I’m probably the worst person ever. You’re probably really tired now too so -”

“Hyung?” Jimin’s voice is small, and Hoseok can picture the look on his face, wide eyes and teeth worrying on his lower lip.

“Yeah?” Hoseok voices out brightly.

“'Is it okay if I hug you?”

Hoseok swallows thickly. Keeping his voice bright is an effort but he grins widely, even though it’s too dark for Jimin to see.

“Sure.”

There’s shuffling on the bed, a rustling of blankets. Hoseok’s nervous. He can’t see where Jimin is but knows that he can’t be very far on this tiny space, not even when Hoseok’s consciously tried to keep his distance. Jimin’s foot knocks into his shin and Hoseok jumps, more out of surprise than anything else. Jimin mutters a quiet sorry, hushed amusement in the word.

One of his arms comes up gingerly around Hoseok’s waist. It’s more awkward than it should be so Hoseok turns on his side, props himself up so Jimin can get his other arm around him. Hoseok rests his head on Jimin’s bicep, keeping up a small distance between their bodies. Jimin doesn’t pressure him, only holds him loosely, and Hoseok can’t stop his thoughts from spilling out.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok pushes out. “I’m sorry I can’t do – do this the right way.”

“Hm,” Jimin’s voice is soft, understanding. His Busan accent, the one that he's been gradually losing over the past couple of months shows in hints now, when he's sleepy and dull. "'S alright.”

“It’s not,” Hoseok sniffles. “Love yourself more.”

Jimin laughs.

“You’re overthinking again, hyung. I don’t think there’s really a right way to do stuff like this. I mean, whatever feels right is right,” Jimin’s voice grows flustered. “That sound silly?”

“A little Namjoon-hyung of you,” Hoseok admits, and Jimin groans softly.

Hoseok does thinks that he has a point, even if half of him still believes that Jimin is only saying it because he’s too nice to push him away.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles against the hard contours of Jimin’s arm. His skin is warm against the side of Hoseok’s head and he just starts feeling comfortable when he hears Jimin shift and cough a little.

“Uh, hyung?”

Hoseok makes a sleepy noise at the back of his throat.

“This is embarrassing, but your head is kinda heavy.”

“Gym work,” Hoseok mumbles through his soft laughter. “And for what.”

“For this killer bod, obviously.”

Hoseok ignores him, moving forward until his cheek is pressed up against Jimin’s chest and one of his thighs against Jimin’s.

“Mmm, this alright?”

Jimin snorts above him and says something.

Hoseok mumbles against Jimin’s chest, “Didn’t hear.”

“We've had lip action before, hyung. Don't think you gotta be all careful now.”

Hoseok whines and smacks Jimin on the chest, elicting an amused yelp. He doesn't appreciate Jimin bringing up their drunk episode, nor does he appreciate the sudden barrage of mental images featuring Jimin’s parted lips and dark eyes. He's too tired to articulate his complaints, so he pushes Jimin's face out of his head before this gets uncomfortable for the both of them.

Instead, he concentrates on the rise and fall of Jimin’s chest, the soft drumming of Jimin's heart in his ear that's intimate in a way that makes Hoseok feel both warm and a little burdened.

“...until you fall asleep?”

“Mmm?”

“Want me to pet you until you fall asleep?”

Hoseok nods, cheek rubbing down the material of Jimin’s shirt.

Jimin traces his hand from Hoseok’s back to his bare arm and drags his nails down the length of it, and Hoseok shudders lightly. The feeling is so good that it shakes Hoseok awake for a moment before plunging him into an even deeper exhaustion. His leg feels numb so he throws it over Jimin’s thighs, switching to pose they’ve slept in often before.

Hoseok relaxes his body and pretends not to notice how fast Jimin’s heart is beating.

Jimin traces the lines of Hoseok’s neck and down his spine, and Hoseok feels heat rushing downwards even through the haze of his pills. He inches his hips away slowly from Jimin, and Jimin snickers, repeating the motion.

Hoseok slurs out something close to “Jimin, shut up” and Jimin’s chest shakes when he laughs.

Hoseok wishes that he could stay awake for a while longer now, just feel this full and happy until morning but Jimin’s touch starts to feel cotton against his skin and his head spins down, down, down until it’s black and he can’t feel anything.

***

An empty street, painted in soft hues of dim yellow light. Black buildings rise up on each side of him. Drip, drip, drip. Fog mists over his face and makes his movements sluggish. There’s a sense of danger lurking underneath the urgency in his struggling gait.

The road forks out, leading him out of the confines of buildings onto a sparse area. Hoseok doesn’t recognize any of these roads, but doesn’t think that left or straight is the way to go. On the right is a group of figures cloaked in darkness.

Hoseok feels it as an ominous sight deep down and turns to the left before the group spots him.

It’s empty in here, just land stretching out without end. The fog is a gelatinous mass sticking to his leg and a street with hulking apartments lining the sides. Automatically, he turns into the driveway of the third apartment building and the doors open smoothly.

Two, four, eight, twenty, forty steps.

Inside, a couch turned upside down and tapestry peeling off the walls in chunks. A dark balcony door with blinds open all the way up, and creaking as it sways left, right, left

Hoseok turns to leave and finds gray concrete where there was a door. The hallway to his right is pitch-dark and seems endless. Hoseok doesn’t particularly like the look of it but his legs carry him off into it anyway. He can’t see anything, can only feel his way around with his hands touching the walls. It branches out in thousands of directions but Hoseok pushes on straight, eyes clamped shut tightly.

The hand he has stretched out front bumps against something hard and Hoseok opens his eyes to see the contours of a door. A children’s room inside, plush dolls with button eyes scattered onto every surface.

Hoseok-hyung.

Hoseok turns to shut the door, and a hand clamps onto his shoulder unexpectedly.

A familiar voice. Premonition builds up like bile in his stomach, and Hoseok jostles the doorknob up and down but the door doesn’t budge an inch.

The hand turns him around, and Hoseok comes face to face with mint hair, eyebrows raised.

Hoseok’s eyes flick over to Namjoon’s broad back. He’s hunched over something by the wall, a shower curtain with patters of purple and orange fish clutched in one of his hands.

Two shovels by the door, a crumpled doll on the floor, blood and intestines surrounding it like paint on a white canvas. Hoseok presses exit on a keyboard.

Beep beep beep beep sleeping is a high pitched noise and a narrow room with yellowing walls. A familiar boy sits on the couch, hands clasped together in his lap. He sits down next to him.

The sound of nails on glass, sobbing. When Hoseok turns his head, a bloody bottle is clutched tightly in his fingers. Taehyung’s face is contorted in a long grin that’s not his own. He swings and Hoseok screams.

A smell of roses, a hand touching his face. Bubble tea in his hands. Vanilla on his tongue, his favourite. . His friends sitting in a bright orange two-seat across from him, a language Hoseok doesn’t recognize.

Lonely, lonely, lonely.

I can't do this.

He sips on air and Jeongguk’s features are fuzzy on the edges.

Hoseok doesn’t really recognize this restaurant. He looks around, a mismatch of tables, a window, tiny and in the corner of the room. There are bars screwed over it.

A strange sort of heat drips down his chest, sticky and uncomfortable.

A person and a door Hoseok hadn’t noticed, a bright red monster in the middle of the restaurant. Dark hair, black and somehow ashy. The man doesn’t spare a single look for Hoseok, grabbing Jeongguk by the hand and dragging him to the door. Jeongguk looks at the stranger’s back like he’s a deity of some sort, traipsing after him faithfully. When Hoseok yells, the stranger turns around. Yoongi?

Hoseok blinks and they’re both gone, and he’s alone and there’s nothing here anymore. There’s just one chair and a trapdoor in the floor with red hinges, only big enough for a child to fit through.

Hoseok swivels around but he can’t find Jimin. He goes to the trapdoor and pounds down on it but it stays locked up, Yoongi and Jeongguk gone somewhere behind it. Hoseok doesn’t know why he feels so panicked but he needs to find Jimin right now because something’s terribly amiss and Namjoon says don’t bring the kids home. I’ll explain later. Later. Later laterlaterlaterlater

Hoseok turns and runs, opens a door and he’s surrounded by white tiles. Jimin is there and Hoseok grabs his face and feels like crying because he’s found him but they’re not safe, Jimin, we’re not safe.

The image sharpens out, zooms in on Jimin’s face. He’s a painting of perfection, a composed smile on his lips and hair like a red halo on his head. He whispers reassuring nothings to Hoseok, arms coming up around his waist. Hoseok breathes out another warning before Jimin lands a feather-like kiss on his lips, and then one more, on the corner of his mouth. Hoseok winds his arms around Jimin’s neck, the hair at the back of his head petals against Hoseok’s hands and Do you sleep well alone?

Hoseok has his hands in Jimin’s hair now, pulling on it when Jimin slides a leg in between Hoseok’s thighs. This isn’t right, he thinks as Jimin mouths down his neck. The throbbing in his body is unbearable now, almost painful, and Hoseok rolls his hips into Jimin’s thigh. A dizzying wave of pleasure coupled with Jimin’s teeth on the column on his throat makes him come up short for breath.

Jimin hooks his hands under Hoseok, whispers of up, up, up, and Hoseok hoists himself onto counter. Wet kisses on his stomach, and Hoseok to knocks his head back into a mirror.

There’s no pain, but hot breath skims across Hoseok’s stomach when Jimin giggles.

Jimin? This is Jimin

It isn’t right.

Hoseok looks down at his best friend, arms resting over Hoseok’s thighs. There’s an offer there, in his large pupils and the breath ghosting out of his red mouth. Hoseok touches his cheek gently, draws his face up to his level.

Wake up soon, okay?

He leaves a lingering kiss on his lower lip and wills the dream away.

Hoseok turns his head to the side and finds his love, head resting on a bed of feathers. His hair is like dancing flames, radiating soft light around him and his eyes are half-lidded, sleepy smile bathed in deep orange. More feathers flutter down around them and fingers dance across Hoseok’s arm, nails drawing patters onto his skin.

It’s so comfortable, so drowsy in here. Hoseok props himself up on his elbows, plucks a feather from the boy’s hair. He gives him a pretty smile and Hoseok leans forward to press a kiss onto his cupid bow clumsily.

When he leans away, a subdued smile, fingers the rustling of leaves on Hoseok’s bare chest.

They brush against Hoseok’s sides, skate along the bones of his ribs. Sweetness drips down Hoseok’s body and his vision is hazy when he opens his eyes but this is an angel and Hoseok wants to kiss so much more of him, the mole on his collarbone and the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.

He wants to stay here longer, but his head swims and his eyes go in and out of focus An angular face stares at Hoseok from the bathroom mirror. Plink, plunk, plink and Hoseok touches his face, the unfamiliar contours of his chin.

Silent footsteps tap to the door, and Hoseok meets his eyes in the mirror. He’s swollen up from sleep, face shiny and eyes half-lidded, shoulders narrow in an oversized white sweater.

Are you okay?

Hoseok lets his hand drop down, leaning on the sink with a tired grin. Jimin looks worried, tongue darting out to his lower lip nervously.

Can I help?

Don’t worry about it. Just go sleep.

Shifting from one leg to another leg and Hoseok urges him again.

It’s fine. Go.

Absence in the air.

Seokjin tells him goodbye softly and Yoongi shuts the red trapdoor.

hoseok opens up the cupboard above the sink and fInds wonderland inside the clear containers. a sMall kiss on his forehead,

one lId after another, the contentS go down until he feelS like he’s overflowing.

the pills slip out of his hands and fall into the murkY water of the sink, tiptiptap and HoseOk tethers and

falls in love again qUietly

TOO

ikr what the hell is this ;---; sorry for writing such a weird chapter but it just felt right to me??? and also sorry that its this short, the next ones will be significantly less bullty and more plot heavy since i need to wrap everything up neatly so please anticipate them fondly. thanks for all the new subs! <3