Bleeding Again

Empty Skies

hey :) it's been a hot minute guys, damn

I'm glad to post this fic again, even if it hurts my soul lol

---

Yoongi sits still on the carpet, staring into bright canine eyes that blink happily back at him.

Fleur, one of the sweetest, happiest little dogs he's ever met, belongs to a high school friend of his. Yoongi, being the sort of doormat friend he is, had accepted the last minute request to watch her while his friend was away on a trip.

Not that he minds or anything. He's glad to do something for a friend. This just isn't how he thought he'd spend his weekend.

He does suppose that type of thing seems to be happening to him a lot lately.

"How's it goin', pup?" he asks, giving an affectionate scratch behind the little dog's ears. She sniffs at him with her cute, twitching nose, wagging her tail and bouncing up to give him a on the face. Yoongi just laughs, turning his head slightly away and pushing her tiny body gently back down onto her fuzzy bed.

Cute.

"Well, I'll assume that means you're good," he practically gushes. He's always had such a soft spot for dogs. He's also always had a habit of speaking to them like they understand him just as well (if not better) than the people around him. There are some times he'd like to think that maybe they do.

Fleur paws lightly at his chest, blinking her wide, innocent eyes at him again. "Oh, how am I?" he murmurs, grinning, and it's completely playful for a second.

But then his smile starts to fade away as reality bleeds through. He rubs her head. "I'm not really sure, pup," he says. "Things have kind of lately." Careful not lay on her, he curls up on the carpet next to her bed instead of crouching down beside her.

"It's my fault, though. If I wasn't such a wimp, it wouldn't be like this, you know?" he mumbles, eyelids falling shut. His mind is in a melancholy sort of peace, calmed by the steady patter of the rain on the windows from the evening sky outside.

"Jimin is happy right now. I gotta it up," he sighs, rolling over so he's face-up. Trying to distract himself, he studies the ceiling fan, and the little silver chains hanging down from it, and the little ornate patterns etched into off-white.

"I'm such a . Look at me," he chuckles, rolling his head over to blink at her beady puppy eyes. "Here I am, laying on the floor, again. Whining about my problems to a in' dog."

The worst part is that he knows he has someone far more responsive to listen to him.

He knows he has someone who will always be there for him and always has, whether it was when he earned the scar on his knee or after his parents split all those years ago. And yet, something stops him from saying anything at all. It's familiar to him - the inevitable fear of being a burden, especially to Hoseok who is already overworking himself.

He couldn't do that to him. He couldn't create more problems and worries for someone who already seems to be pushing his waking time into the early hours of the morning.

So there he is, on the floor, explaining all of his feelings to this dog, who ultimately doesn't have a clue what he's saying, as the rain continues to lull him slowly to sleep.

*****

Later that night, he wakes up in his own bed, covers pulled up over his body comfortably. There's a pleasant warmth next to him, and he looks over to see Fleur curled up peacefully in slumber.

Well, he thinks, taking in the familiar sight of his bedroom, This is a little odd.

How exactly had he gotten here? Not that he minded; he'd always choose a mattress over his living room floor. But he did have to wonder.

That's when all of a sudden, something catches his eye. Something alarmingly neon pink.

He sits up like he's just been brought back from the dead, then reaches out to grab what turns out to be a pink post-it note stuck on his nightstand. Holding it up to the soft glow coming from his bedroom window, he does his best to read the scribbled words.

You seem to like the floor a lot, don't you, silly? Be careful; next time I might draw on you in your sleep or something. Just kidding.

I already sorta did ;)

hoseokie xx

Yoongi snorts in amusement. I should've known.

Leaning back into his mattress again, he scans over his pale hands and arms, having a feeling that he'll find something. And sure enough, moments later, a small flash of black makes him study his skin closer, and he finds a little heart doodled over the veins on his right wrist.

How Hoseok.

A smile creeps onto his face. See, Yoongi? You've got good reason to be happy.

He nods to himself. Very good reason.

Ironically enough, it's barely a second after he comes to that conclusion when a very familiar ringtone rattles his eardrums, making him jump in surprise as it shatters the silence.

His eyebrows knit together at the name that flashes across his phone screen.

What on earth could he want from me?

Groaning under his breath, he reaches over and hits the accept button irritably. "Yeah?" he says groggily after raising the phone to his ear.

"Yoon. Yoongi. Baby."

Yoongi freezes up.

He did not just hear that. There's no goddamn way he just heard that.

Trying to comprehend what exactly is happening, he opens his mouth slowly, brain clouded with shock and confusion. "Jimin, what are you-"

"I need help, babe. I need you," his high pitched voice rings shakily through the line, which continues to crackle with the background sounds of other people's conversations and overbearing bass from somebody's music.

A rather sickening realization surfaces in his brain.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he huffs into the phone, the sounds of the affectionate nicknames on the younger's voice setting his nerves aflame.

"I don't know," Jimin slurs, sounding hopelessly lost and stumbling over simple words so severely, it's safe to assume that this call is very warranted.

But why me, damn it?

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. Why couldn't he just be given a break for once? "And I'm guessing you don't think you can get home," he continues.

"Yep."

"And you want me to help you." There's a glare in his eyes, directed at nothing in particular.

Jimin pauses. "Yep," he says eventually.

"Couldn't you just have Taehyung help you or something?" This is really starting to grate on his nerves. Out of all the people in the world, Jimin had to choose him. The guy who he'd dumped, the guy who was just trying to get some sleep at three in the ing morning.

"But Taehyungie was the one that brought me, t-to this place. Yoon, I didn't wanna drink, but I did it anyway. I dunno why. And he went somewhere else, and I d-don't know where."

.

"But- but I called him. Promise. Like, seven times. But he never answered, and I need to go home because I'm really- I'm really tired...I just wanted to think about something else, but this happened, and I wanna go home Yoongi..."

.

His fingers subconsciously brush across the edge of the covers.

He's about to do this, isn't he?

He's about to get out of his bed at three in the morning and go pick up this piss drunk idiot who'd damn near broken his heart, and all because he never stopped loving him. Even if it hurts like a .

It doesn't matter. It's his fault anyways.

"Just..." he sighs. "Hold on, okay? Where are you?" he asks as he finally peels the covers off of his body and slides quickly out of bed. He's still in his clothes, thank god. He's glad for one less thing to be slowing him down.

"That one place we went to that- that birthday you had like...six years ago," he hiccups, and a hitch in his voice can be heard on the other end as someone roughly bumps into him without apologizing. "The place where Hoseok, where he tried t-"

"Sh," the older silences him.

Dammit. It's that place.

Yoongi pats down his unruly raven hair as he looks for a jacket laying around somewhere in his room to shield him from the most likely cold weather. No luck, though. Quickly giving up, he turns and jogs out of the bedroom door, which Hoseok must have left open earlier.

"Okay. Don't hang up, alright?" he tells Jimin, his voice becoming more gentle now, and the younger just hums softly in acknowledgement.

Yoongi gives up hope on wearing a jacket upon seeing the lack of one anywhere around the door to their apartment. He'll deal with being cold, even if it is pretty chilly out like it has been the past week or so.

Setting down his phone momentarily on the carpet, he quickly slips his shoes on, and then picks it back up to raise it to his ear.

"You still there?" he checks, his voice starting to fill with concern. Nothing's more annoying than the fluttering worry rising in his stomach.

"Yeah."

"Okay, good."

Luckily, he knows this place isn't very far from home. He knows he can get there quickly, but judging by the way Jimin's words are blurring together, he'll probably need to help him walk. That's okay, though. This whole thing is completely okay.

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Just stay where you are."

*****

Bodies move around him, the music pounding through his chest as if the earth was shifting underneath his feet. It feels like it is.

His sleepy eyes search through face after face he couldn't care less about, looking for the only one that matters to him. The volume level makes his ears ring and the atmosphere in general makes him so dizzy.

Why would Taehyung bring him here? Yoongi had met the bubbly kid a few times, and he'd never thought he seemed like the type. But he supposes people can be deceiving.

Regardless, Yoongi would rather be anywhere but here right now. The lights are blinding his still sleepy eyes, leaving these little green spots in his vision, and it feels like it's been so long since he'd come in. How big can this place possibly be?

He's really starting to feel like giving up when all of a sudden, from a little ways away, he spots those innocent eyes he'd fallen in love with.

Except the sunshine that's always been in them is gone, replaced with a dull, glassy look as he stares off at nothing.

And Yoongi has to admit, it scares him just a little. Is this just Jimin's intoxication, or something else? If there's anything that Yoongi learned living with complete drunks in college, it's that alcohol doesn't change who you are. It merely takes away any filter of what you're feeling inside. And what he's seeing right now - he doesn't want that for Jimin.

After pushing through the seemingly endless sea of people, he finally manages to reach Jimin, who just looks trapped in this odd place somewhere in between tired and anxious and lost.

"Jimin!" he calls over the music, and the boy in question's whips his head around to face Yoongi like a startled mouse. The relief that washes over his face in the next moment is thick and sticky sweet like syrup, accented by his emotional state (he always has been the emotional drunk, to Yoongi's dismay).

"Baby, help me!" his small voice cries out over the booming bass, holding his arms out in front of him like a toddler that wants to be held and told everything's okay. Who knows; maybe that is what Jimin wants.

Yoongi frowns at the nickname he's just been given, but slides his hands through Jimin's nonetheless, grasping as if he's prepared to hold the other boy's whole world if he has to.

"C'mon, let's go home!" he shouts, nodding to encourage the younger to follow him as he begins to take small steps backwards. Jimin scrambles to his feet from the black stool where he'd spent the last half an hour, beginning to take tentative steps in Yoongi's direction to test the waters a bit.

Once he seems a little more comfortable with his balance, he walks a bit further, and Yoongi subtly slips an arm around his frame to support him.

This is alright, he decides. They can make it far enough like this.

Yoongi leads them carefully towards the doors, weaving through people as politely as Jimin's balance will allow.

Just get home. That's all he can think. Get home.

Needless to say, the way they're getting along in this moment is quite a process, and yet, they can maneuver it without even speaking. It's kind of amazing, in Yoongi's opinion. They just leave slowly back out into the city as if nothing was wrong, the peaceful atmosphere a lullaby to them both.

This time, Yoongi doesn't really feel cold. Jimin's comfortably warm body makes him forget every shiver that coursed through his body on the way here.

Unfortunately, his mind's relaxation does not last long. It hits him soon enough after they're finally out in the night air that the boy in his protective hold no longer lives with him, and has also never told him where he now resides instead.

Which, considering his current condition, is not good. At all.

"Jimin, where do you live?" he helplessly tries asking, though he's pretty sure he's not going to get a clear answer.

"With you, silly," Jimin slurs, giggling like a madman.

It's insufferable. Yoongi can't help but scowl.

This boy has forgotten the entirety of the past two months. This is ridiculous.

If Yoongi's hands were free, he'd be rubbing his temples right now.

At this point, his best option is to just take Jimin back to the apartment that they used to share and have him sleep there. Just the thought makes him groan to himself bitterly.

Greating great.

"Alright, let's go," he urges gruffly nonetheless, leading a suddenly silent Jimin in the right direction. After all, Yoongi was the one who'd decided to help in the first place, so now he's going to follow through, whether he likes it or not. Maybe he has a habit of sulking, but he is not a child.

After almost thirty minutes of Jimin almost falling over and Yoongi momentarily freaking out because his arm muscle is nonexistent, the two of them do manage to trudge all the way back. Without Jimin scraping his face on the sidewalk, surprisingly enough.

The whole way, they never speak. Yoongi has to wonder as they enter the building if the wobbling in Jimin's legs with each step is completely because of the alcohol either.

"S'my old bed," Jimin giggles when he's finally able to lay his body back onto the mattress.

Shutting his eyes and grinning like a maniac, the younger begins to move his limbs and make invisible snow angels on the unmade bed.

Yoongi can't help but find it just a little bit cute, the corners of his lips tugging upwards even though, of course, he's still extremely pissed about this whole thing.

"Do you want pajamas?" he asks, forcing a detached look back onto his face even though he knows that Jimin wouldn't even know the difference right now.

"Yeah. Mhm. Comfy," the loopy boy mutters endearingly, his face half squished into the covers, which pushes one of his chubby cheeks back against his face.

Goddamn it.

Yoongi looks away, turning on his heel and padding over to his dresser to look for something Jimin can wear. Luckily, Yoongi likes to wear big, baggy clothes. If he didn't, it might be harder to find something that would fit Jimin's more muscular form.

Of course, if Jimin just hadn't moved out in the goddamn first place, this would be so-

"Puppy!"

Yoongi jolts at the sudden loud exclamation, and his body freezes up. What the ?

Dropping the pair of fluffy pajama pants he was holding back into his open drawer, he whips around.

Oh, . I completely forgot about Fleur.

He jumps to action. Although he has to admit, the sight of Jimin nuzzling his nose against the little dog as she sniffs him and wags her tail is one of the cutest things he's ever seen, one thing he's learned in the past five years is that Jimin doesn't realize his strength when he's drunk.

That being said, letting him play with a tiny dog when he's so ed up is obviously a bad idea. Thank god Yoongi's friend had given him Fleur's crate for the weekend.

"Fleur," he calls, rushing over to scoop up the cute little dog and end Jimin's fun.

Jimin doesn't seem to like that at all. "Yoon," he whines in discontent, reaching to try and grab her fur, or maybe her collar. "Puppy."

"Puppy's going to bed," he tells him sarcastically as he quickly carries a now excited Fleur out of the room.

This night is truly a disaster, in his opinion. Yoongi doesn't know if he's ever had his less together before. He's just thankful that Fleur hasn't had an accident or something. That's about the only thing that could make this worse.

After he locks up the cage and returns to his bedroom, where Jimin has returned to the giggling mess he'd been before he'd had the dog taken from him, Yoongi goes back to his open dresser and grabs out his favorite giant red sweatshirt. One that may or may not actually be Jimin's.

That Yoongi may or may not have kept on purpose.

As he carries the garment over to the still giddy boy, he's well aware that in all likeliness, he's going to have to help him dress. Actually, that's the main reason he hadn't grabbed pants. He'll get him out of his jeans so he's more comfortable, but he's not about to go to the trouble of getting pajama pants on him.

Now, don't get him wrong; the childish brightness in Jimin's eyes and voice right now is a huge relief. He prefers that to crying and sniffling any day. It's just the part where he has to treat Jimin like an actual four year old that gets on his nerves. When the filter of emotions is dropped, Jimin is like a ticking bomb just waiting to blow. No wonder Yoongi hated going to bars so much when they were together.

"Sit up," he directs. Jimin obeys, albeit slowly, with an ornery, toothy smile spread crookedly across his face. Gentle hands pull each button through on his pale blue work shirt, frowning at how many of the buttons are already undone on the top.

He doesn't wear any of his shirts like this.

Yoongi can't decide whether or not it should put him off. Jimin may have done it after he'd managed to get himself piss drunk when he was still at the bar. Or maybe it was a different reason. He doesn't know for sure, but he does know he doesn't like it.

Maybe he was flirting with guys, he considers sourly. That was a gay bar.

Trying to put images out of his head that would only depress him, he slides the sleeves off of Jimin's arms, then tosses the shirt aside, bunching it up with subconscious irritation.

He was going to just slip on the sweatshirt without another thought. It seemed that Yoongi already knew everything he needed to. But that was before something else caught his attention. 

A look of dissatisfaction crosses his face as he looks over Jimin's torso.

Even though it's true that his shape looks better than it did back when there was snow on the ground, Yoongi can't help but think he still seems underweight.

His thoughts swirl around in his head as he stares. This doesn't make sense. Yoongi had thought everything was all better. When he'd seen Jimin at the restaurant two months after their breakup, he'd thought he seemed perfectly healthy. Perfectly happy.

Was it just his sad brain tricking him into thinking Jimin's life was absolutely perfect without him? Knowing himself, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.

"Arms up," he mutters, his mind somewhat in a daze as he contemplates the whole thing.

"Roger," Jimin slurs, saluting (and lightly hitting himself upside the head in the process, the dip) before reaching for the ceiling.

Boy, is this situation familiar, Yoongi thinks in bitterness as he pulls it over him. Except this time, Jimin is still ing giggling, and the older boy thinks he might go insane.

But he's got to be patient. He's got to.

Taking a deep breath and convincing his angry thoughts to dissolve, he decides he's just going to ask him about it, and see what he can find out.

"Jimin," he addresses as he goes to awkwardly the boy's tight jeans.

"Mhm?" the younger hums cheerily in reply, still grinning like a kid in a candy store, though his eyes look a bit dazed. He doesn't really seem aware of what Yoongi's doing. Yoongi's thankful for that.

He ignores Jimin's beaming look as best he can, because he's aware it's probably not going to last long when he says what he's about to say.

"Are you eating all your meals?" he asks as he takes the ankle of Jimin's jeans and begins to pull them off.

In the silent moments that follow, Yoongi tugs as hard as he possibly can at the denim devils and wonders if his question is sinking in.

Finally, as he's in the home stretch of getting these impossibly tight pants off of Jimin's thick legs, he hears, "Tha's hard for me, Yoon."

"You always told me it's only hard when something's bothering you," Yoongi points out as coolly as possible as he finally pulls the jeans all the way off. Thank god.

"Well, tha's because-"

As Yoongi faces him again, Jimin cuts his biting retort off, the sudden spark of anger disappearing as if an important realization had just put it out. "Never mind," he grumbles in a choked, quiet voice, lifting his freed legs up and rolling back into the bed.

Yoongi sighs deeply.

He'll help him. Somehow, he'll find a way. But he's got to be patient.

With a small yawn, he turns around, sitting on the edge of the bed where Jimin had been moments ago. "So, um," he mumbles, scratching his head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine," he hears behind him, and he's just about to get up and leave quietly when Jimin adds, "Wai- no, no. I forgot. One more thing."

Yoongi, not suspecting anything, turns himself around to listen to Jimin's last request, but to his surprise, he's immediately met with a pair of lips pressing up against his jawline, kissing down the soft skin just like he used to.

Jimin is kissing him.

It takes him a moment of sitting frozen in his spot to get that through his head, and a moment more to realize how wrong it is. Yoongi can't take advantage of Jimin forgetting his confession and their breakup. He can't let Jimin give him affection just because he wants it.

As much as he doesn't want to, he takes one last second of that warmth against him before placing his hands on Jimin's chest to gently push him away.

And when his eyes meet the younger boy's face, he looks confused, blinking at him questioningly.

"Jimin, you don't love me anymore. You said so," he murmurs, just on the edge of sounding unpleasant about it.

"But Yoon. Feels nice," Jimin argues thoughtlessly, sliding a hand around his back. "Doesn't matter."

If there's anything he was expecting, it was not that. Yoongi leans away from him. "What-" Jimin's hold tightens, making the words catch in his throat. Yoongi knows what it means, but he asks anyways. "What do you mean?"

"N'body else does it like you," Jimin slurs, fingers twisting and digging into the material of his shirt and tugging at it, sending shivers through Yoongi's body. "You're so pretty," he groans, burying his head in the older boy's neck, and the next thing Yoongi knows, Jimin is and biting and the skin there, and he's panicking.

, . This is bad.

"Jimin, don't-" he protests weakly, trying to push him off even though his lips feel so warm and good against his neck. It doesn't even end up mattering anyways, because Jimin's hold on him is strong, and he can barely move.

"Jimin, I'm serious," he stammers, eyes fluttering shut. So quickly, he starts to fall apart as Jimin's mouth works its way gradually down to his collarbones. It's pathetic, he manages to think.

"Yoon, I always want this. Even when m'not drunk," Jimin persists against his skin. "I want you. Really want you," he pleads, moving his hand down to start palming Yoongi through his sweatpants.

The older boy twitches. "Jimin," he moans softly, and he's starting to feel really helpless, his hips pushing mindlessly into the touch. His mind is screaming at him to struggle, to get out of this toxic situation, but it feels like its fading into nothing as his brain fogs up, and all that's left is the boy he loves.

Jimin keeps kissing the slightly exposed top of his chest, whispering desperately up against the porcelain skin, "Can I you?" His kisses start to feel almost like he's pleading for Yoongi's permission. "Can I?"

Yoongi seriously doesn't know what to do. It's so hard to even think coherently, let alone form words or even move, for 's sake.

"Please, please? I'll make you feel good, Yoon, I promise. I jus' wanna hear your voice again." His hands move down to Yoongi's hips out of subconscious habit, gripping so firmly that it hurts. Yoongi gasps in pain as the hold continues to tighten. He knows there will be bruises tomorrow.

Still silent, he screws his eyes shut. This is awful. Just awful. That's the only thing he can think as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing shallow and fluttery.

But he knows that the person on top of him right now, kissing his neck and leaving his burning touch in every spot he can reach, is not Jimin. It's not the boy he loves.

The person on top of him is lust. Pure lust. And Yoongi has to accept that it will never be anything more than that again.

"Jimin. We can't do this," he whines softly, partly in pain because of the hands still ruthlessly gripping his hips, making them start go tingly and numb. Yoongi finally shifts himself to grab onto Jimin's biceps, trying to pry his body away.

It takes a minute of him desperately doing this for Jimin to actually understand what's happening. It's a tortuous group of seconds that feels dangerously close to an eternity, but thankfully, he finally pulls away to sit upright on the mattress again, apparently realizing that Yoongi seriously does not want this.

And Yoongi is let free so suddenly that for a second, he doesn't even know what to do. With his luck, he was almost expecting to have to keep struggling, to pound on Jimin's chest, maybe even to yell out to Hoseok, so the mercy is extremely relieving.

He lays there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling and catching his breath. It's a little hard to believe that just happened, but at least it's over now.

After he and Jimin had stumbled through the door earlier, Yoongi had thought he'd gotten his daily dose of bad luck, but the ache now residing in his hips tells him otherwise.

Trembling to his core, he does his best to sit up. Hopefully, his hips won't hurt more when he gets up to walk again, although it's likely.

The room is so quiet, too. Jimin isn't looking at him. Yoongi isn't surprised.

"You need water," he remarks out of the blue to a still silent Jimin, climbing to his feet without waiting for a response. It doesn't matter; he doesn't get one.

During the next five minutes or so, as he tries to push away any budding memory of what just happened, Yoongi goes back and forth between the bathroom and the bed so he can carefully hold paper cups full of water to Jimin's mouth, and tip them back so he can drink easily.

It's the first thing he thinks of in terms of preventing Jimin from having a terrible hangover tomorrow. Going off of both past experience and his behavior tonight, Yoongi thinks it's safe to say he'd gotten hammered, so he wants to do his best to tame the headache that his ex-lover's bound to have when he wakes up.

"Okay, how's that?" he asks after probably the twentieth tiny cup of water. These little paper things are far too small, in his opinion, and it's made this whole thing take so much longer. Yoongi has concluded that if Jimin still gets that terrible hangover despite all of his efforts, he's just going to jump out their bedroom window because obviously he's not meant to succeed at anything.

Jimin only nods at him gently, clearly having forgotten the entirety of the past half hour by the look on his face. The way his eyelids are slowly sinking and rising again tells Yoongi that it really is time for both of them to sleep. It's probably well past four by now.

Yoongi pushes himself up from the mattress, wincing at the pressure it puts on his hips to hold himself upright. They're still tingling and aching. Jimin really overdid it, but Yoongi knows he didn't mean to.

Tiptoeing now, he walks around to the other side of the bed, wishing he didn't have to do this, to go and sleep on the couch instead of next to him. Just the thought makes him turn around to look at Jimin one last time.

And all of a sudden, it all feels just like the early hours of February 27th. It feels like the last night that Jimin had lived here. The silence, Yoongi staring longingly, Jimin's back to him, the moon glowing carelessly outside as if everything was alright.

A lump rises in his throat as his fingers find their own way to graze against the bruised skin of his neck, then over his hipbones. "Sleep well, okay?" he somehow gets out before biting down on his lip. Yoongi watches the back of Jimin's head as he nods in acknowledgement, pulling the covers up over his body.

Then, he turns around, padding softly out of the room and shutting the door behind him without a sound.

The stupid lump continues to grow threateningly in his throat, and he bites down on his lip harder. If only the tingling pain in his hips would go the hell away. Then maybe he could just forget.

He takes deep breaths through his nose as he walks down the hallway, but he still feels the hot tears forming at the ends of his eyes, and he clenches his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands.

Don't ing do it, you little . Don't you dare.

Yoongi has to grit his teeth, inhaling deeply again as he just wills the tears to stay in his eyes with everything in him. He is not going to ing cry over this. He's not.

As he flops down on the couch cushions, there's an ache that gradually starts to pulse in his head. Absently, he runs his fingertips over his marked-up neck again.

He decides he'll just sleep here for the night. It'll be better that way.

Settling his body face-up in the cushions, he gradually forces himself to blink away every tear, letting out a shaky sigh before trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. He feels stuffy now, like every feeling is just packed tightly together and he's about to burst open, but he urges the emotions back down.

He could have left the room sooner. He could have stopped Jimin from touching him again. But he didn't.

Yoongi doesn't deserve to cry over this, and he knows it.

*****

Half past nine.

Hoseok rolls over in bed, stretching his limbs as he glances out the window at the clear morning. It's light out - a pleasant, promising kind of light that makes him remember today is going to be a good day. A particularly good one, actually.

He allows himself to stretch one last satisfying time before pulling the covers off of his body, climbing out of bed, and shaking away a slight daze as he smacks his lips.

He feels especially good right now; yesterday, on a sort of last minute whim, he'd planned a day out with Chanmi, a friend of his, and although he needs to get ready a bit early, he's excited.

In accord with what he usually does when he has plans the next day, he'd laid out an outfit for himself the night before, and he slips into the ripped blue jeans and plain black tee with barely any sleepy clumsiness slowing him down.

Hoseok, unlike Yoongi, is a morning person. Always has been, probably always will be.

After taking a quick peek in the small mirror he has sitting on his desk, ruffling his hair out a little bit and deciding to be content with that for now, he makes his way into the hallway, a small bounce in his step.

He's not really sure why he feels unsatisfied when he passes Yoongi's bedroom door. He shouldn't.

But even as he tells himself that it's stupid, Hoseok walks back a few steps, grabbing the door handle and taking just a quick peek.

It gives him a sense of comfort to catch a glimpse of the covers all piled up, with what looks like that big red sweatshirt Yoongi likes to wear somewhat visible.

It is odd, though; Hoseok doesn't remember him wearing that before.

Hm. Maybe he woke up cold in the middle of the night and put it on.

He shrugs, quietly shutting the door again before turning to walk out of the hallway and into the living room. Obviously, he's expecting to be greeted with emptiness as he strolls in.

That being said, you can imagine his surprise when he finds Yoongi asleep on the couch, looking exhausted and curled up in a position that definitely can't be comfortable.

Hoseok blinks, glancing behind him towards the hallway, and then back. What in the hell...

Had Yoongi come back out into the living room? Even after Hoseok had gone to the trouble of moving him to his bed? Why would he do that? Not that it took Hoseok much effort to tuck him in. It just doesn't make sense. If anything, the most Yoongi move to make would be not waking up until two p.m. the next day.

He's messing with me, Hoseok thinks. That's gotta be it.

Unless, maybe he'd sleepwalked? Hoseok bites the inside of his cheek. That would be really odd, though. In all the years he's known Yoongi, he doesn't remember him sleepwalking even once. It's just never been something he's done.

It also occurs to him that the piled up covers he'd seen when he passed his bedroom must have just made it look like he was still in bed.

In any case, Hoseok does feel bad, looking at the way his best friend's body is bent at odd angles. Actually, he isn't even sure how he'd managed to get himself this twisted up; he looks like a soft pretzel.

But such is the mystery that is Min Yoongi.

Regardless, he's sure to have aches and soreness today when he wakes up, and Hoseok can't help but feel a little pang in his chest.

Carefully, he bends over Yoongi and slides his arms without much force underneath his light body, then proceeds to pick him slightly off the cushions so he can lay him down in a more comfortable position, head supported by the pillows.

There, he thinks, nodding to himself with a tiny smile. That's better.

But then, just as he's in a sense of false comfort, something catches his eye.

Now that Yoongi is laying in a slightly different position, his neck is more visible to Hoseok, and with a deep frown, the younger boy notices something that he hadn't before. Something that he couldn't want to see less.

Deep purple marks on his skin. Lots of them, trailing from his Adam's apple down to his sharp collarbones. Ones that definitely were not there last night when Hoseok had carried him to bed.

It's a minute before he realizes how deeply he's frowning, but he thinks he has right to be worried. Had Yoongi gone out last night after he'd gone to bed?

Had he brought someone home?

Hoseok bites his lip. No. That couldn't have happened. He would have heard them. Right?

Then again, maybe not. Hoseok can be a surprisingly heavy sleeper sometimes, and last night, he'd been exhausted.

And that's when he realizes that maybe there actually is someone in Yoongi's bed right now.

The only thing that doesn't make sense to him is, why would Yoongi come out here to sleep on the couch and leave his whole bed to some stranger? If he'd brought someone home and hooked up with them, why wouldn't he just sleep in bed next to them, or better yet, tell them to leave?

Slowly and tentatively, he backs up into the hallway, curling his fingers around the doorknob hesitantly when he reaches the entrance to Yoongi's bedroom.

He takes a pause.

Should I even be sticking my nose into this?

His hand tightens around the doorknob. This is his business. At least partly. Yoongi is his best friend, so if he's being hurt, Hoseok has the right to understand, doesn't he?

Before he can question himself any further, he twists the doorknob to push the door open, and the sight that he'd caught before is still there, but now it's clear that there really is someone dreaming away in the sheets. Someone that isn't Yoongi.

The thing that really gets him is something he hadn't noticed before; this mystery person is sleeping on the side of the bed that is usually empty. That is, the side that's been empty since Hoseok had moved in.

And to top it off, this person half-buried in the covers has shaggy blonde hair, and a short stature.

The guy has his back to Hoseok, but he's pretty goddamn sure he knows who it is.

"Oh my god," he mutters under his breath in disbelief, walking with light footsteps over to the other side of the bed, and sure enough, he finds himself staring into the face of Park Jimin, sleeping peacefully in the bed that used to be his.

Snuggled up in only boxers and the red sweatshirt that Hoseok is positive is the one Yoongi's been wearing all the time.

"You've gotta be ing kidding me," he whispers, an upset scowl tainting his usually bright face.

He just can't believe it. Jimin isn't just crashing here for the night, he's wearing Yoongi's clothes, he's in Yoongi's bed while the older boy had fallen asleep crookedly on the couch.

And from the looks of it, they'd ing had .

Hoseok can't lie to himself; this whole thing is killing him, even if he's barely even a part of it. Although he can't know anything for sure, the marks on his best friend's neck indicate that Jimin had been the one to come onto Yoongi, not the other way around.

It's no secret to Hoseok that Yoongi still loves Jimin, so logically, it's hard for him to see how it could be a secret to Jimin either. In fact, it pisses him off. How can Jimin be so blind?

It's not just that either. Another thing Hoseok can't understand for the life of him is why Yoongi won't say anything to him. Jimin has no idea how Yoongi feels because he won't speak up. He won't let Hoseok help him, he won't let Jimin help him, even though he clearly takes any opportunity to be at Jimin's side.

It just doesn't make any sense.

All frustrations aside, Hoseok's unsure of what to do right now, considering he doesn't think it's fair for him to wake Jimin up and kick him out when he doesn't know for sure what happened. But god, does he want to.

The anger under his skin wants to wake his up, tell him stay the hell away from Yoongi, and drop kick the er out into the hallway like a football.

Turning on his heel, he somehow manages to storm quietly out of the room, leaving the door wide open. He tries his best to calm down, reminding himself that Jimin isn't the type to have sadistic intent, trying to convince himself that he's simply unaware of how Yoongi's feeling.

It's just the part of it that doesn't add up at all. If they did sleep together, then does that mean Jimin isn't willing to stay with Yoongi, to love him and take care of him, but he's willing to him and then sleep in his bed?

Because if that's the case, Jimin is just using Yoongi in one of the most awful ways possible. He hopes it isn't true.

Caught in the middle of conflicted and frustrated feelings, he marches as softly as he can towards the kitchen, where hopefully a piece of toast or a chocolate muffin can do something to salvage his dumb emotions. This is supposed to be a good day. He is not about to let it go to .

As he passes through the living room, his eyes catch sight of Yoongi on the couch again, and the marks on his neck jump out at him this time.

It bugs him so much. The way he feels like he can't bear to look, and yet he can't seem to look away. Luckily, he doesn't actually have to choose, because he wasn't planning on just standing in the living room until Yoongi wakes up. He's going to the kitchen.

The kitchen. Right. He's going to the kitchen. Which doesn't require staring at his best friend.

Get it together, Hoseok.

But no matter how many times he repeats that to himself as he stands there frozen in the sunlight, Hoseok still ends up caving and trotting over to pull the collar of Yoongi's shirt up over his neck. He covers the ugly purple marks that taint his skin. Hoseok doesn't want to see them, and Yoongi shouldn't have to see them when he wakes up.

Thankfully, it turns out he was at least a little bit right about a chocolate muffin doing something to help his mood out. Food tends to have that effect on him.

He takes a sip of orange juice from his glass, trying his best to type out a quick text to Chanmi with just his thumb; she had just asked him for an ETA.

But apparently, it seems that the world has decided it wants to further, because just when his thumb is reaching over to the right of the keyboard, a quiet but sudden sound greets his eardrums, and he flinches, accidentally pressing send.

"Hoseok?"

He curses under his breath, quickly typing out the rest of the message and sending it before his head jerks over to meet the owner of the familiar voice.

Just my luck.

"Jimin," he returns coldly.

Anyone with eyes could clearly see his friendly personality backing out of the light, leaving this rarely seen part of him standing there alone. A part of him that would raise his fists against anyone who hurt his best friend.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, eerily calm and composed, but with an underlying anger threatening to crack him and seep through his skin.

"I, um," Jimin mumbles, rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't really know, to be honest. Things are hazy."

"Did you sleep with him?" the older boy asks bluntly, cutting right to the chase when he doesn't get a straight answer.

"What?" Jimin squeaks in surprise, eyes flying open again and becoming so wide that Hoseok wonders if they're going to pop out of his head.

"Quiet," he hisses, nodding in gesture over to the peacefully sleeping boy on the couch, who is totally unaware of the cold exchange that he's laying right in the center of, in every sense. "Yoongi's asleep."

Jimin seemingly tries to dial down his shock, but he still looks mortified, a confused guilt filling him when he really takes notice of Yoongi.

"Hoseok, why would I do that?" he continues helplessly in a whisper. His cheeks are burning red, and admittedly, his whole demeanor throws Hoseok off a little bit. Maybe he expected him to be acting carefree and lighthearted. But maybe that's Hoseok painting Jimin as the enemy off of assumption.

"Well, there are hickeys on his neck that weren't there before you were here," Hoseok informs him regardless. All he can do right now is tell him the truth. That's the only way he's going to get a grasp on what's happening. "Do you want to see them?"

Jimin is noticeably fidgeting now, playing with the red sleeves of his hoodie.

Only it's not his hoodie. It's Yoongi's, and Hoseok can feel his face twitch slightly when he reminds himself of that. Jimin shouldn't even be wearing it.

"I...I guess so," the younger finally mumbles. When he thinks back, Hoseok honestly doesn't think he's ever seen Jimin this flustered and confused. That must mean that he was right about the current relationship between him and Yoongi. Jimin has no idea how his ex-lover feels.

Hoseok sets his empty glass down on the counter with a resounding clinking sound in the tensely silent room. He can practically see Jimin's scattered, nervous thoughts swarming around his head like angry bees, the gears turning as he tries to process what exactly is going on.

While silently pointing over to the couch where his best friend lays in slumber, Hoseok approaches him with care, treading lightly so his footsteps don't make the floorboards creak.

Would it be cruel for him to be anticipating Jimin's guilt? To be anticipating his realization that he really had ed up? He's not sure. All he knows is that deep down, he's waiting for it.

When he thinks about it, it's a little bit like the way he feels watching movies when the villain is about to be punished for his or her wrongdoings. But is Jimin really the villain in this story? And if not, why can't Hoseok seem to see him as anything other than that?

Trying to push the bothersome question away, he kneels down next to the sleeping boy, briefly letting himself think the way his hair hangs over his eyes is cute. Then, with gentle fingers, he eases away the collar of Yoongi's shirt from his neck, revealing the dark hickeys trailing down to his collarbones.

"," Jimin curses under his breath, shocked and horrified, and Hoseok has to admit that he's a little pleased with the guilt that's pulling at his voice. "You're sure he didn't have those before I was here?" He's running his hands anxiously through his hair now, and he looks nothing short of disgusted with himself.

Hoseok nods calmly, trying to find some ounce of sympathy within himself, but to no avail. "Positive," he replies honestly.

Looking like he's seconds away from a mental breakdown, Jimin takes a quiet step forward. "Hold on," he mutters, reaching a hand past Hoseok.

His fingers brush against the hem of Yoongi's baggy sweatpants, and without even thinking, Hoseok reacts. "What the hell? Don't touch him," he hisses, smacking Jimin's hand away and shooting him a dark glare.

"I'm just checking something," Jimin bites back, not all that venomous. More so afraid.

"There's nothing up with me. I just don't want your hand down his pants," Hoseok growls back. The last thing he's going to let Jimin do right now is touch Yoongi more than he already has. His best friend deserves some scrap of dignity.

"You're being ridiculous. I'm just checking something," Jimin repeats firmly, and this time when he reaches over, Hoseok reluctantly stays still, despite the spark in his bones that makes him want to swat that hand away again.

Jimin, with a profound gentleness, slips his index and middle finger underneath the waistband of the sweatpants and slides them down just a couple inches. Another quiet curse escapes him when he sees the brutal purple marks on Yoongi's prominent hip bones, and his breath catches in his throat.

Oh god.

So it really was him. In all likelihood, Jimin had ed Yoongi last night, roughly enough to make him look flat out abused, and now he doesn't even remember it happening.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"What?" Hoseok asks gruffly, not able to see over Jimin's shoulder. Relief washes over him when Jimin gingerly places the waistband back over Yoongi's bruised hips.

"I think you're right," Jimin tells him solemnly, and it sounds like he might cry. "I think I slept with him."

The boy's head is spinning, and his chest feels so heavy with the weight of his guilt. How could he have done this?

It doesn't help that Hoseok is staring him down so coldly. Jimin hates that it has to be this way. The two of them used to be friends. "You do?" Hoseok asks, voice thick with disappointment but not surprise.

Jimin doesn't look at him. "I'm such an idiot," he mumbles. "I don't remember what happened, but um...whenever we used to sleep together, I'd leave marks on his thighs."

Hoseok chuckles in pure disbelief. "Gotcha," he scoffs satirically. That detail doesn't matter much to him, obviously. What matters is that he was right, and he really wants Jimin to never talk to Yoongi again right now.

"Hoseok, I'm so sorry. I was probably really drunk when it happened. I don't want to hurt him," Jimin insists, eyes watery and voice high pitched and thin.

Hoseok's expression doesn't change, but he looks Jimin in the eyes for a long moment. Jimin tries to read him all the while. "Well," he says flatly, "I have to go."

And emotionlessly, he starts to do just that, but before he does, he turns back to the distressed boy, who's just standing there, helpless. "But before he wakes up, I want you out," he adds coldly, pointing over at the door. "Stay away from him."

Jimin watches Hoseok go, watches him close the door behind him, and for seconds, then minutes, then hours, he repeats that sentence over in his head.

Stay away from him.

*****

When Yoongi opens his eyes, he isn't really sure what to think.

It's clearly been daytime for a while now; the way the sun shines into the living room tells him that much. And he knows one other thing - his body aches. But sleeping on the couch has always done that to him, so he can't be surprised. That's just what he gets.

What he doesn't know is why his roommate is sitting next to him on the couch, rubbing his back soothingly like he's this broken little boy who doesn't know how to fight his own battles. Maybe that isn't as far from the truth as he'd like to think, but Hoseok doesn't have to know that.

He shifts on the cushions, admittedly enjoying the warm feeling of the palms running up and down his back, but not really understanding its purpose.

"Hoseok, what are you-"

His words are cut off mid-sentence when he looks up, and his voice gets caught in his throat as he realizes he was wrong.

"Morning," Jimin says softly, allowing himself to smile as he continues to rub his hands up and down Yoongi's back comfortingly.

For a second or two, Yoongi can't pull his eyes away.

He's still here.

He blinks, the smile on Jimin's face putting him at a loss for words. Last night, something had been telling him that he'd be by himself when he woke up, and yet, Jimin hasn't even left his side. He's here with him.

"Hey," he finally greets, voice so quiet as he looks away, memories from the previous night causing embarrassment to burn everywhere that Jimin's lips and fingers had touched.

"Listen," Jimin mumbles, eyes obviously fixated on the bruises covering his ex-lover's neck. "Last night...did we..."

Yoongi knows what that means.

Slowly, he shakes his head, listening to Jimin's relieved sigh a moment later. Yoongi wonders if it's because he cares about his emotions, or because he'd been afraid Yoongi would get the wrong idea.

"You just kissed on me a little," he mutters without real reason. It's an embarrassing thing to say; he can't quite bring himself to look Jimin in the eye.

"I'm sorry," Jimin says, hanging his head. He hasn't stopped rubbing Yoongi's back. Yoongi's thankful. "I don't remember anything."

"I mean, you were drunk off your ," Yoongi points out, trying his best to shrug the whole thing off. Caring doesn't help him. Not even a little bit. All it ever does is make him feel like , so apathy is really the best option. "I'm surprised you're not throwing up right now."

"Your hips are really bad, though," Jimin argues, staring down at his other hand like he can't believe what his fingers had done. "That's so ty. How did I even do that?"

Yoongi's not really sure what to say to that. And not just in the sense that he'd rather not tell Jimin that he'd damn near crushed Yoongi with his hands. He looks at him weird, taking a pause before asking, "How the hell do you know about that?"

Jimin quickly realizes his mistake, and Yoongi can tell. "Oh," he says, eyes darting over to the middle of the room like there was a spirit looming there that Yoongi couldn't see. His words are barely coherent when he replies, "I just looked to check."

Yoongi's even more confused now. "What?" he mutters, mind reeling. Was Jimin messing with him while he was asleep? How does that make sense?

But no matter how much he wants to know, the look on Jimin's face doesn't seem like the look of someone who's about to answer him.

And it turns out, he's right, because after one last rub on Yoongi's back, Jimin gets up off of the couch, taking his warm, pleasant hands with him. Yoongi groans. "Never told you to stop," he complains childishly.

Jimin just ignores him, making his way into the kitchen where he starts to pull things out of cabinets. It's difficult to tell what they are from the couch, but the sheer reminder that Jimin already knows where everything's at is definitely a sufficient bite in the for Yoongi, who is now both confused and dead inside.

"What do you want to eat?" Jimin asks, opening up a cabinet next to the microwave to pull out two small glasses.

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows. "To eat?" he repeats, as if Jimin will hear how arbitrary that sounds. Now he's almost positive that the younger boy's just trying to change the subject on him.

"I'm making food," Jimin tells him simply, like it's just a crystal clear fact that makes as much sense as anything.

Yoongi pushes himself up from the couch. "Oh, no you're not," he protests as he scuttles into the kitchen at an impressive speed. "You're not gonna do that for me."

I won't let you apologize to me when I don't deserve it.

Jimin directs a slight smirk at the boy standing at the edge of the kitchen. "And who's gonna stop me?" he challenges, whacking the wooden spoon he's holding against his palm. "You?"

Yoongi snorts. "We'll have to ing see, won't we?" he shoots back sarcastically as he takes it upon himself to run forward like an angry bull.

At first, he wasn't planning on making actual contact. It's just that the look on Jimin's face is so bewildered, he can't help himself, and he ends up trapping Jimin in his arms in borderline football tackle, which turns out to be a little too much force. It makes Jimin's foot slip, and despite him trying to grab at something to hold them upright, they both go tumbling down in a big, clumsy, tangled mess that hits the floor with a resounding thunk.

"What the was that?" Jimin says after they've been laying there silently for a few seconds.

"A mistake," Yoongi replies, his face squished against the hardwood floor. Their bodies are halfway on top of each other, and surprisingly, it doesn't cross his mind that Jimin might not want to be this close to him. He doesn't try to move.

"You deadass tackled me in your kitchen so I wouldn't cook you a meal," Jimin deadpans from underneath him. "What kind of crazy knucklehead."

"That sounds like an outdated insult, don't you think?" Yoongi mutters. His fingers are brushing against the red sweatshirt, and for a moment, he just forgets that things had ever changed.

"You're an outdated person," Jimin fires back. Yoongi thinks that if this had happened before, Jimin would be running his fingers through his black hair right now. He'd pay good money to feel that again.

"That's ridiculous. I'm youthful and gorgeous," he mumbles.

Jimin snorts. "Get off of me."

Yoongi was pretty much waiting for that sentence. And he's really about to do it, too. Get up and just pretend that he's turned back time to before December.

But then, when he gathers his effort and tries to get back onto his feet, he unintentionally gasps, his body going limp again, and his heart jumps in his chest when he realizes why.

How does this still ing hurt? Did I just sleep in a weird position and that's making it worse, or was he trying to squeeze the life force out of my body?

"You okay?" Jimin's soft voice soon asks.

Yoongi's not quite sure if it's guilt he hears in the words. "Yeah," he assures him unconvincingly.

But even after he says it, he doesn't try to move. His body lays completely lifeless against Jimin's. "Your hips," the other boy murmurs, like he's realizing something important out loud, "I really hurt you."

Yoongi raises his head up, eyes finding their way back to his ex-lover's face again, and it turns out he was right; Jimin looks guilt-ridden.

"No," he lies, shaking his head insistently. Yoongi places his palms flat on the floor so he can push himself up onto his feet, doing everything in his power not to wince even a little bit. It does hurt him, but he's not about to admit that. "That's bull."

Jimin, who's following suit by getting back up himself, doesn't seem very convinced. But it doesn't really matter in the end, because before Yoongi can even change the subject, a realization seems to cross his ex-lover's face.

"Oh ," Jimin curses suddenly, becoming anxious in the blink of an eye. "Do you know when Hoseok's getting back?"

That, needless to say, is sort of a weird question, and the look on Yoongi's face definitely shows that he thinks so. "I don't know," he replies honestly. Over the years, Yoongi's gotten accustomed to the fact that Hoseok doesn't really make plans for when he's getting back. His policy is to party and do the planning as you go. "Why?"

"Dammit," Jimin curses, glancing over at the familiar digital clock with the blocky green numbers. "He told me he wanted me gone before you woke up."

Yoongi doesn't even know why that surprises him so much, but he finds himself getting as close to gaping as Min Yoongi will ever get. "He said that?" he questions.

Jimin nods his head, and Yoongi wonders when Hoseok started wanting to ruin his life. After all, if he hadn't seen Jimin this morning, he's pretty sure he would have stressed himself out over the events of the past twelve hours until he just went brain dead on the couch.

"That's -ish. I thought you guys were friends," Yoongi remarks, picking up one of the glasses Jimin had gotten out and taking it to the fridge, where he gets out a bottle of orange juice.

"So did I," Jimin sighs miserably. "But you know. People change."

Yoongi does know that. He knows that better than most people. "Yup," he returns.

Jimin leaves soon after that. He says it's because he'd really rather not have another confrontation with Yoongi's best friend for god knows how long.

And as Yoongi walks Fleur down the busy sidewalk, feeling the wind sweep through his hair, he hopes that's the only reason.

*****

Yoongi has no idea how things got to this point.

When Hoseok first got home from his day out with Chanmi, things were fine. For the rest of that night, things had been completely, one-hundred percent okay.

So, the question is, how the hell did it end up like this?

All that he'd done was ask Hoseok about telling Jimin to leave their apartment. Yoongi knows he's an , but he honestly does not see the wrong in asking that.

"What's your problem?" he snaps at his roommate, far too loud for one in the morning in a building filled with other tired people. Yoongi would be apologizing to them in his head right now if he wasn't so pissed off. "Not that my life is any of your business anyways, but he didn't me."

"It is my business if he's hurting you," Hoseok shoots back, adamant. His fists clench at his sides, and from the looks of it, he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

"He is not hurting me, Hoseok," Yoongi growls. His voice is low and dangerous. "Stop trying to protect me. I'm an adult."

Apparently, that's what it takes for Hoseok to snap.

"If he's not hurting you, then why the hell did those hickeys only show up after he came by?" he demands, pouring salt into Yoongi's wounds without thinking. Despite his voice sounding so pained, like the words are a heavy weight to carry, his eyes are intense, passionate. It's a fire Yoongi's not used to.

"If he's not hurting you, then why do you always look so ing sad? Why do you always push me away when I try to help you?"

All Yoongi can do is slowly shake his head, glaring right back. He's always despised these types of arguments. Where people assume he's got all these  feelings. "I don't need your help. Why do even you care so much?" he returns gruffly, almost like he couldn't care less, and he's just irritated at this point.

Hoseok lets a chuckle escape him, all while he's looking at the floor. The whole gesture is so bitter. It's hard for Yoongi to listen to, and even harder for him to watch. "Really?" his best friend of seventeen years murmurs. His voice is broken. "Fine. Maybe it's because you're my best friend. Maybe it's because I'm in love with you."

And just like that, Yoongi's heart sinks like a rock in water.

In retrospect, he really should've seen this coming, but it's a bullet he's just not ready for.

Hoseok only shrugs at him, of all things to do. It's just that now, there's nothing left to hide. Everything's out on the table. "I'm done being childish about this whole thing," he says. "I always tell you to be honest about your feelings, so I'm gonna stop being a hypocrite, and that means telling you how I feel about you."

Yoongi just stares at him with an unreadable expression, lips not budging, so Hoseok continues. "And if that makes you uncomfortable, then you can kick me out," he assures him. "Never talk to me again. Do whatever the hell you want. I just hate seeing you like this because I really, honestly-"

Yoongi kisses Hoseok.

Without a second thought, Yoongi closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around his best friend's neck.

He doesn't know why he does it. It's not like he wants to. It's not like it makes him feel even the tiniest bit better about anything that's happening to him. But he does it, and Hoseok kisses back.

The strong arms wrap around his small body as Yoongi stands on his tiptoes to better reach him. It's something that he's not used to. Something he soon realizes he doesn't want to get used to.

Yoongi doesn't love Hoseok. At least, not in the way that Hoseok loves him. From the very moment their lips touch, he knows that they're made to fall apart.

But this terrible, crushing loneliness in his heart - he's now pretty sure that Hoseok's been feeling the same thing, all because of him.

So maybe, no matter how careless and stupid this is, if it can numb their pain just for a little while, things can be okay.

-----

I don't even know man

what am I doing

See you soon! c:

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