***This story is part two in a series. Here is the link to part one.***

“…and he's tasting some kind of drink that looks like coffee. It might be hot chocolate. It looks like coffee, but it might be hot chocolate, Sushi. I don't like coffee. I like hot chocolate. Do you like hot chocolate, Sushi? I hope not. Appa says hot chocolate will make you sick. That's why we gotta put our dishes in the sink and not in the floor. Well, that and ants." Jimin’s sitting on the floor, describing in detail the events of the television show he’s watching to a somewhat anxious looking Sushi the cat who still has yet to recover from the child’s off with their heads reign of terror.

“On the floor, bud, not in,” Hoseok corrects his son from his seat on the couch behind Jimin.

“'Kay, Appa. Hear that, Sushi? We can’t put it on the floor. But we still put it in the sink, right Appa?” Jimin asks, brows drawn together.

“Mmm, that’s right, Minnie. You put things in a sink and place things on the floor,” he repeats.

“But why?” Jimin turns to look up at him, and Hoseok chuckles slightly at the look of pure confusion the difference between in and on has caused on the child’s face.

“Mmm, let’s see. I know, why don’t you grab your Mickey plushie and come with me?” Hoseok stands to his feet and beckons Jimin to follow him into the kitchen. “So we use the word in when we are putting something inside a space,” he says, taking the toy from Jimin’s hand and opening the fridge door. “Mickey is in the refrigerator.”

Hoseok turns to face his son as he closes the door, leaving the doll inside. He expects to see understanding and the light bulb of comprehension burning brightly from Jimin’s beautiful brown orbs, but when he’s met with horror and fright instead, he’s somewhat startled. The little boy’s eyes are wide, and he looks like he’s about to burst into tears, with a downturned mouth and a pink nose.

“Minnie, what’s the matter, buddy?” Hoseok kneels to the child’s level, pulling his son into his arms.

“Mickey will be so cold in there,” Jimin whispers, the words falling from his trembling lips. “What if he dies of coldness?”

Hoseok chokes back a laugh as he retrieves the toy from its cold castle and hands it to his eager child. Jimin wipes at a stray tear as he checks Mickey carefully to make sure he’s fine before tucking the doll under his arm and walking out of the kitchen. As he watches the little boy move further and further away, Hoseok has a moment of reflection; it never ceases to amaze him, Jimin’s warm-heartedness. The child is loving, kind, curious, and caring. Hoseok’s even more determined never to let anything or anyone, especially not his parents, destroy this side of Jimin. He’ll do whatever needs to be done, fight whatever battle he must in order to protect his child.

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and walks out of the kitchen. He picks up his phone and hits the speed dial for Jin.

“My child just cried over a Mickey Mouse doll,” Hoseok speaks as soon as the line is picked up, without giving the person on the other end a chance to answer properly.

“Who is this?” The tone is scratchy, thick, and familiar, with the tiniest hint of a hidden accent, and it's most definitely not Jin’s.

“,” Hoseok blurts out in shock. When did he give Yoongi a speed dial? Why did he give Yoongi a speed dial? “, hyung, sorry. I thought I dialed Seokjin. I’m sorry to disturb you, uhm, this is Hoseok. , sorry again.” He quickly disconnects the call and walks down the hall to his room to throw himself on the bed dramatically.

This time around, he checks the number before hitting the call button.

“What’s up?” Jin’s voice rings through on the line.

“When the did I give Min Yoongi a speed dial number?” Hoseok asks, frantically scouring his mind for a memory of the moment.

Jin’s laughter is a clear indication that the man knows exactly when Hoseok committed the deed.

“You really don’t remember?”

Hoseok knows he shouldn’t ask, knows that whatever Jin is about to say will probably be something he wishes he hadn’t heard, but despite all the warning alarms going off in his head, he still needs to know.

“Remember what?” he asks slowly, and he can almost see Jin’s smirk on the other end of the line.

“You don’t remember standing on the stool at the Cinder Bar, declaring to everyone within earshot that Min Yoongi was a god among men and deserved a place in your precious phone?” Hoseok can hear the held back laughter in Jin’s voice as the man tries but fails to sound serious.

“I called my phone precious? Like The Lord of the Rings, precious?” Hoseok wants to crawl under a rock.

“Mmm, it was lovely. Drunk people cheered, women cried, it was a moving moment until you fell off the stool and threw up in a flower pot. Those poor chrysanthemums will be scarred for life.”

“Please tell me you’re making this up,” he begs his friend, but every fiber of his being tells him Jin’s not lying.

“Have you ever known me to be this imaginative?” Jin slings back.

“I called him thinking I was calling you just now. I was so shocked when he answered that I hung up on him,” Hoseok retells the story his voice high pitched and frantic.

“Seriously? Like some prepubescent teen prank calling their crush?” Jin chuckles on the other end of the line, and for a brief moment, Hoseok considers hanging up.

“Yes and no. I, uhm, told him who I was, apologized for calling, and hung up without giving him a chance to speak.” Hoseok sighs on the line.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Min Yoongi doesn’t strike me as the kind to hold your stupidity against you,” Jin says rather unconvincingly.

“Are we talking about the same Min Yoongi?”

Jin laughs harder than necessary at the statement, and Hoseok grimaces.

“The least you could have done was continue the lie,” he reprimands Jin. “Maybe I should call him back and apologize properly and, uhm, give him a chance to say something this time.”

“He’s probably blocked your number already.” Jin laughs harder at his joke.

“That’s not funny, hyung,” Hoseok whines.

“So this is why you like to remind me of my drunken actions. I see the appeal now that I’m not on the receiving end.” Jin chuckles, and Hoseok cringes, throwing his arm across his forehead.

“Oh my god, why am I like this? I mean, there’s nothing there, right? It’s not like I like him or he likes me. There’s nothing there. , why’d I hang up? Now he probably thinks I’m crushing on him,” Hoseok wails in despair.

“Are you?” Jin asks simply.

“I’m hanging up now,” Hoseok declares, ignoring the question altogether.

“It’s okay if you are. You know that, right?” Jin says softly, and it feels like encouragement.

“I'm not, or at least I don’t think I am. It’s just been a while since someone stood up for me like that, you know?”

“I get that.”

They’re quiet for a bit.

“So why were you calling me to begin with? Before you accidentally dialed Yoongi,” Jin questions.

“Ahh, so my son cried over his Mickey Mouse plushie tonight. I was teaching him the difference between in and on, so I put the toy in the refrigerator, and my child cried real tears because he thought Mickey would die of coldness,” Hoseok can’t help but chuckle at the memory.

“He’s such a little cutie. Tae would probably ask if he could put all his stuffed toys in there and begin using it as storage.”

“He’d also have a valid reason for why he put them there too. I love Taehyung,” Hoseok says with a smile as Jin hums his approval. “I was thinking, after the incident happened, that this, his kind-hearted nature, is why I fight so hard to keep him away from my parents. Jimin’s going to grow up one day, and he won't always be this innocent, this pure. I just want to preserve this part of him for as long as possible.” Hoseok sighs hard.

“I know what you mean,” Jin says with a sigh of his own. “They’re growing up so fast, and I’m so scared I’m missing so much. Also, don’t worry too much. Jimin will be safe as long as he has you. You’re a great dad, Hobs.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“A horrible drunk, but a great dad,” Jin says chuckling.

“Mmm, I’m hanging up now. I feel insulted because I’m a lovely drunk.”

“Night, Hobi.”

“Night, hyung.”

****

"Wait, tomorrow Tuesday?" Namjoon asks in disbelief. Apparently pretending things don't exist doesn't make them go away. In fact, it seems to be the opposite they happen sooner. "Do I have to attend? You know how antsy I get at those functions. I don't think I can do it, hyung. So much is happening with Jennie and all the new people that have invaded my world lately. An evening with complete and total strangers talking to me and telling me all the reasons they love or hate my work may be the last nail in my coffin."

"I wish you didn't have to go, Joon. Trust me, I fought for you, but you've missed the last three book signing, and this time the CEO himself is coming. Also, this will be more of a dinnertime event rather than complete strangers coming up to you and asking you to write how much you love them on the cover of their book."

To be honest, an event where he'll have to mingle and talk with people sounds a million times worse than just signing a few books and smiling. He sighs into the phone. His heart begins to race, and the more he thinks about the upcoming event, the faster and more erratic the beats become. Galas and mixers, any social gatherings, are the one drawback in his profession of choice. Dressing up and acting normal takes a toll on him, and the recovery time is usually not worth it. Unfortunately, Namjoon knows he's not in a position to decline this time around.

"It's a school night. What about Jungkook?" Namjoon knows it’s a weak argument, but he tries anyway.

"We can have Nara watch him. She's been asking about him, says she misses her little pet bunny." Yoongi mimics the girl's speech, and Namjoon chuckles despite the pit of destruction growing in his stomach.

"I guess. You'll be beside me all night, right? You won't, like, leave me to go talk to people, right?" The questions come out choked, scared, like it's happening now, him standing alone in a room filled with people who all want a piece of him. Namjoon wants to throw up, cry, and run and hide.

"Joon, have I ever left you alone at one of these events? Ever?" Yoongi sounds slightly offended.

"No, never. Sorry, hyung. I'm freaking out; sorry for taking it out on you."

"S'okay, Joon. Look, tomorrow I’ll stick to you like white on rice. If it gets too overwhelming and you can’t handle it, let me know and I’ll find a way to get you out. But you at least have to make an appearance.”

Namjoon sighs in defeat and nods his reply.

“You're nodding, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon can’t help the chuckle that escapes.

“How do you always know, hyung?”

“After many years of learned-study, I’m fluent in Namjoon,” Yoongi replies without hesitation, and Namjoon finds the response is equal parts humorous and heart-warming.

“Thanks for that, hyung. You could’ve headed for the hills like everyone else in my life did when I, you know, broke. But you stuck around. I don’t know where Jungkook and I would be without you. Thanks for staying.”

Namjoon can almost visualize the face Yoongi’s making on the other end of the line. It’s what Jennie affectionately called his stank face. It’s the look the older man gives when he’s touched but doesn’t want to let on that he’s happy.

“Whatever, where was I gonna go? I worked hard molding you into the perfect friend, and God knows I’m too lazy to find another uncoordinated soul to train.” Yoongi’s tone is soft and a little choked up, and Namjoon knows it’s Yoongi’s way of saying, “You’re welcome.”

“What you meant to say was, who else would put up with your grumpy old ? It’s okay, hyung; I’m fluent in Min Yoongi,” he volleys the man’s word back at him.

The line goes quiet for a stint, and it not uncomfortable. Neither of