when the lightning strikes

When the lighting struck, Hoseok’s hands simply clutched his blanket tighter and pulled it further over his clenched face. The thunder booming only made him sink deeper into his mattress as more tears filled his eyes. The loud tapping of the heavy rain on the roof above him was enough to make him crawl under the covers and try to block out the sounds of the awful storm outside.

List of basic things to know about Jung Hoseok, number one; he is literally scared of everything. Storms, of all things, especially. Jung Hoseok hates storms. He could never quite place why he was so terrified of simple, natural things, like animals and thick trees and bugs, but he had always had a fear of them. For as long as he could remember. Similarly, his reaction to storms was no better. The loud claps of thunder that roll in after bright lightning, and the heavy, pouring rain simply terrified him to the extent of curling up under blankets and pillows and sheets.

(All on his own. Nobody could ever take him, a 21 year old man from Gwangju, seriously. Not when he said he couldn’t get through a storm without shedding a small tear or ten. So he tended to stay on his own throughout his not-so-mild panic attacks that he would have every time it stormed, without fail. He spent the majority of summer nights shaking with fear, ignoring texts and blaming it on his reception cutting out later.)

Hoseok had a boyfriend. Min Yoongi, to be precise. As Hoseok had always said, he was not just any old guy he picked up at a club on a dry Saturday night. Realistically speaking, that’s exactly what Yoongi really was, but Hoseok chose to ignore the fact that he was extremely intoxicated during their first meeting and that they had indeed gone to his place and ed afterwards, at around 1:32am. Hoseok had always been an early riser, but seeing the elder’s adorable face draped over his body clearly for the first time when he woke up the following morning had him heading right back to sleep with him. They woke up together at 3:56 in the afternoon and set up a date for the next Thursday night, and Hoseok had honestly wanted to skip out on it and just leave Yoongi on his own, but the thought of the elder’s flawless face and gorgeous body had him out the door right on time. Yoongi asked Hoseok to be his boyfriend on the third date.

They were considered the cutest couple around, to all their friends. Namjoon, who was possibly the straightest gay man alive, would always glance towards Hoseok’s fingers intertwined with Yoongi’s on the table, and yell out something obnoxious about how gay they were. Seokjin knew the scowl that Yoongi gave him every time he would, and simply always grab Namjoon’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. It shut him up, every time, when Yoongi would simply whisper “gay” back to him and a deep red blush would fill the younger’s cheeks. To Yoongi, it was hilarious. To Namjoon, it was death.

One night after the seven boys had gone out for dinner at Korean barbecue, Hoseok had headed back to Yoongi’s house, and stayed the night after crashing at around 11:30pm; the earliest he had slept in a while. Soon to be broken, though, because when 2:00am swung around, so did a fierce, thundery storm. And goodness knows how much Jung Hoseok loathes fierce, thundery storms.

It was the first time he had had to deal with his phobia of the things while at another person’s house; call it fate, but Hoseok called it a miracle. The loud booming noises from outside Yoongi’s shaky windows were the last straw for the boy, and he lay awake on the couch with frightened tears in his eyes. (Yoongi’s bed was merely a single, and as Hoseok had learned in the past, sleeping with the elder in a small space was never a particularly wise choice for one’s physical comfort and wellbeing. He always chose the couch over sharing a single with Yoongi, which was marginally a more uncomfortable surface, but guaranteed better quality rest.)

He tossed up the idea of going into Yoongi’s bedroom to ask for comfort from the terror that swooshed around loudly outside, but he worried about what the elder would think of him. And that it would likely end up with uncomfortable cuddling. For ten minutes, Hoseok lay awake on the couch, teary-eyed and telling himself to just it up and be a man. To not bother Yoongi, because goodness knows the elder needed his sleep.

After twelve and a half minutes, Hoseok stopped caring about comfort or waking the elder up, or how he would think of him, and tossed his blanket on the floor and dragged himself to Yoongi’s bedroom in the dark. Thankfully he had been here enough times in the light of day to know his way around the apartment without tripping over too much furniture on his way, but an aerosol can of Lynx deodorant still found its way onto the carpet when Hoseok pushed past a countertop, in his attempt to make it to Yoongi’s room successfully. The door creaked open, terrifying Hoseok beyond frightened, and merely making the poor boy tear up more. He tip-toed closer to Yoongi’s tiny black bed, and looked at him in the dark, tapping his shoulder lightly, fingers shaking and filled with nerves and terror.

The elder’s eyes opened groggily after a few minutes of gradually intensifying shoulder tapping from Hoseok, and as they adjusted to the darkness and landed on said figure, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Hoseok?” His voiced barely pierced the air over the sounds of thunder and rain from outside, but seemed to Hoseok like an invitation to try and get in the elder’s bed. Which was, sadly, turned down by the elder, who attempted to hold Hoseok in place and look at him, with heavy, tired eyes that threatened to fall right back shut. “Hoseok, why are you awake?”

A silent sob shook the younger’s tiny delicate frame, and Yoongi frowned more in confusion and concern. “Hyung- hyung, I’m scared,” His voice was merely a shaky whisper, enough for Yoongi to let him down on his bed. “I’m scared of the storm, hyung.”

Yoongi’s laugh was tiny and fragile, and tinkled like bells into Hoseok’s ears, who only leaned into the elder for comfort. “Hoseokie, it isn’t going to hurt you. You’re inside, and now you’re with me. You’ll be fine,” and Hoseok’s attempts at skinship didn’t seem to be working on Yoongi, who only sat with his hands in his lap and eyes focused on the younger. “Go back to sleep, you’re tired.”

Hoseok only sobbed more, leaning even closer. “Hyung, no, I’ve been scared of them my whole life, I have a breakdown every time there is one. I normally keep to myself, but I have you now, and I hoped you’d help me,” His wails were loud, and Yoongi’s ears were sensitive to the sound. A quiet sigh followed by a pale arm slinking around Hoseok’s shoulders was enough to quieten them considerably, and the younger leaned into Yoongi’s warm touch with ease. The large hand that rested on his neck slid up and down his back, pulling him closer firmly but comfortingly.

Hoseok’s eyes were glistening in the scarce moonlight that shone through Yoongi’s window, and the sight made the elder’s chest clench up, because hearing Hoseok cry was nothing compared to seeing its aftermath. He leaned closer and pressed a pair of warm, sweet lips to the younger’s temple, lingering them there before pulling back slightly and resting his chin on Hoseok’s mop of bed hair.

Yoongi gently lay back on his mattress, guiding Hoseok down too and cuddling him close, capturing his waist in his arms and entangling their legs together for warmth. Hoseok’s sniffles were quiet, mixed with the sounds of the clearing rain and thunder from outside. Yoongi’s long, soft fingers carded through Hoseok’s hair comfortingly, keeping the boy calm and carrying him back to sleep.

As Hoseok began to fall asleep again, eyes shut and head pressed into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, the elder shamelessly traced his eyes over the shape of Hoseok’s beautiful eyes, adorable nose and sweet, sweet lips, with admiration and pride that this beautiful boy is mine. He truly was extremely beautiful, he thought. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.