Hoseok and Taehyung, curled up on Hoseok’s bed. Taehyung with his head on Hoseok’s chest, Hoseok with his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

“I’ve been listening to a lot of NPR podcasts,” Taehyung traced Hoseok’s hand, “and found one about death.”

Hoseok intertwined their fingers, “What about death.”

“That there are different theories about death,” Taehyung’s voice was barely above a whisper, “and one theory has the souls of the departed sitting in a waiting room until their name is said for the last time."

Hoseok spoke, “That’s interesting…”

“What if Jin is in that waiting room, listening to us talk about him," Taehyung's hand stilled, "Do you think he’ll be mad at me for crying so much?”

“Nah,” Hoseok smiled, “I think he’ll be happy that he meant so much to you.”

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asked.

Hoseok kissed his head, “I’m sure. Besides Nam Joon will never let his name die.”

Taehyung tried to imagine a world with the absence of someone, then he tried to imagine a day without the familiar weight of Hoseok’s arm resting against him. It hurt to think about, like ice running through his veins. He turned towards Hoseok and kissed him. And the ice disappeared, replaced by warmth. And then Taehyung was crying again.

Nam Joon didn’t have anyone to kiss the ice away. Or to wipe the tears from his eyes, and promise that everything will be better.  Only an empty space where a person once lived.

~~

Hoseok woke up to the sound of rain hitting the windows, and an empty bed. He found Taehyung in the living room, frantically typing on his computer.

“You’re up early,” Hoseok walked to the kitchen.

Taehyung looked up, “Oh hi…”

“What are you doing?” Hoseok the coffeemaker.

“Our appointments got cancelled on account of rain,” Taehyung went back to typing, “so we’re all working from home.”

“Will you be okay?” Hoseok yawned, “I’ve been following the case on the news and looks like a big deal.”

“Johnson said it’ll be easy, don’t worry.”

Hoseok ran a hand through his hair, “Didn’t they find his wife at the bottom of a lake?”

“That’s what I said. Then he shrugged and said no problem.”

Hoseok shuddered, lawyers were scary.

The coffeemaker finished, Hoseok filled two mugs and put sugar and cream in one and only sugar in the other. The one with cream he placed next to Taehyung’s laptop, and took the other with him to the bedroom.

Hoseok returned fully dressed, and with an armful of folders. He replaced Taehyung’s empty mug with the folders.

Taehyung stopped typing, “What’s this?” He picked up one of the pages.

“Nam Joon’s been on a writing craze between breaks,” Hoseok washed the coffee mugs, “Then he prints what he wrote and throws it away.”

Taehyung read over the printed words, “And the point is…”

“It’s his own little therapy,” Hoseok put the mugs on the drying rack, “You have those dramatic animes, and Nam Joon has senseless writing.”

“This is...” Taehyung read over another page, “You can feel the absence.”

Hoseok sighed, “Yeah…”

He kissed Taehyung on the cheek, “Wish me luck, I have to brave through the rain.”

“Can you pick up milk after work.”

“Sure.”

And then Taehyung was alone.

Alone in the apartment across town, as the rain pattered against the windows and drenched the room in a somber gray.

He closed the folder and put it back on the pile. He looked at his laptop screen, read over the page one last time before pulling his credit card.

Hoseok arrived  home late that night.

“Taehyungie,” Hoseok swung the door wide open, “I’m home.”

No answer.

Hoseok frowned. He locked the door behind him, “I bought donuts.”

Still no answer.

Hoseok placed the bag on the table. He felt his jacket pocket, the outline of a key, a brand new key sitting there.

Taehyung wasn’t in the living room.

Or the bedroom.

Hoseok called his phone, it went straight to voicemail.

He called the phone in his apartment, no answer.

In a desperate attempt, he called Nam Joon but hung after the second ring.

No, Taehyung wouldn’t be there. And it wouldn’t help Nam Joon to worry about Taehyung, not when he had a hundred other things to worry about.

Hoseok the coffeemaker and sat down in the living room.

He waited all night.

~~

Hoseok knocked on the apartment door.  Jimin swung it open. “G’morning,” he mumbled, his hair was a mess, his eyes barely kept open. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, still bronzed and toned.

Hoseok felt the heat of jealousy. “Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know you were home in the morning.”

“I was on call yesterday,” he leaned against the doorframe.

“Is Taehyung here?” Hoseok gripped the key in his pocket, “I haven’t seen him in a week, and he’s not answering his phone.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Jimin rubbed at sleep encrusted eyes.

“No,” Jimin woke up at that, Hoseok asked earnestly, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing big. He’s in Chicago right now. His mom kept asking when he was going to visit her and he finally said yes.”

Hoseok loosened his grip on the key, “Oh…”

“It was all very rushed, I got home and he said ‘I’m going to my parent’s house, bye’ He didn’t even say how long he’d be gone,” Jimin explained.

 “Great,” Hoseok forced a smile, “thanks.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jimin pulled on Hoseok’s coat sleeve, “He said you’re great and you’ve been  supportive. He just needed-  ” Jimin frowned, “-something-” he waved vaguely, “and he wasn’t finding it in your apartment.”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok pushed Jimin’s hand off his arm and started walking down the hall.

“He really likes you,” Jimin called out after him.

Hoseok got on the elevator. He leaned against the wall, only to see his red eyes in the reflection. He wiped at them with his sleeve.

If Taehyung cared so much, why didn’t he say anything?

~~

Chicago was the same never ending city as Taehyung remembered.

The cab spent forty minutes in traffic before finally reaching his parents’ house. He saw at least thirty Starbucks on the way, he counted. Lake Michigan looked bigger, an endless blue wave. After not seeing any large bodies of water for over four years Taehyung was awestruck by its size. Jimin always complained about Denver being too big. Taehyung wondered how Jimin would react to Chicago. The thought made him smile.

“That’s the first smile I’ve seen since you got here,” his mother told him.

“Really," Taehyung said in surprise, "I’m always smiling.”

“Not this trip,” She held up a pale blue button up shirt and held it to his chest, “This time you always look like you’re about to cry."

As soon as he arrived, his mother dragged him to the mall. That was her original plan for the day, she wasn't going to change it for her oldest son. Besides, that shirt was an ugly color on him, he shouldn't subject his mother to that horror. She continued, "You’re worrying me, maybe you hate this place, that’s why it takes you months to come visit me.”

Taehyung cringed.

She grabbed a purple one off the rack and compared it to the blue one, “But then I remembered I’m your mother, and you should always be happy to visit family.”

Taehyung remembered Hoseok, and his toxic relationship with his parents. “That’s not always the case, mom,” Taehyung said.

“I know, what a shame.” She chose the purple shirt, his orange hair looked better with it. Why was his hair orange? Did his job allow that? What kind of law firm allows their employees to have orange hair?

“The best kind,” Taehyung laughed on the drive home, “the kind that would hire a monkey.”

She laughed with him.

His mother never pushed for information, well not for the important stuff. She did ask him about his roommate, and his job, and that boyfriend of his that she had yet to meet. Even a skype introduction would be nice.

It would. Maybe when Taehyung was back in Denver he could introduce them.

“We all thought  that Jimin was your boyfriend,” she told him.

“What?” Taehyung almost dropped the soapy dish he was washing. If she cooked his meals, the least he could was wash the dishes. “Why?” he asked.

“You moved in with him, can you blame us?” she shrugged, “And he’s going to be a doctor.”

“Physical therapist.”

“They still make good money.”

“More than photographers for newspapers?” Taehyung teased.

His mom didn’t take the bait, she drank from her wine glass and asked, “Taehyungie, why did you come home?”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He finished washing the sink full of dishes. She helped him dry and put them away, he forgot where everything belonged and kept putting cups on the bowl shelf.

Then she poured a new glass of red wine for herself and another for Taehyung. “How long has it been since Jin died?” she asked.

“Almost three months,” Taehyung drank half of the glass.

“He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”

“Of course,” Taehyung traced the rim of the glass, “He was the first person to help me after I graduated from college.”

Taehyung stared down at the deep red wine. And remembered the bruises on Seokjin’s skin. Then the bruises were gone and it was just Seokjin, Seokjin with his smile and his laugh and his dog and his cooking.

His mom wiped the tears from his face.

He hadn’t realized he was crying. Her hands were thin, veins creeping just under skin, the test of time playing on her, where had the years gone?

But still she was warm and comforting, and even with more lines her smile was reassuring.

He wrapped his arms around her and cried.

~~

Hoseok was on autopilot, he went through the motions, the routine of work life, turned in his drafts on time went to bed at a decent hour.

But he wasn’t there, not entirely.

He didn’t go to the bar, he didn’t participate in workplace conversations, he didn’t cheer with Yoongi at sporting events. He was only existing.

After the sixth day of minimal reactions Yoongi slapped his face.

“What the hell!” Hoseok shouted.

“Anger good, that’s something,” Yoongi grinned.

Hoseok glared, “What was that for?”

“You’re like a zombie man, even Nam Joon thinks you’re depressing.”

Hoseok froze. If Nam Joon thought he was depressing, Nam Joon who was still writing depressing poetry during his break, then there must be a problem.

Hoseok rubbed at his still tender cheek, “There are gentler ways to do that.”

“But then I don’t get to hit people,” Yoongi pouted.

Hoseok glared.

Yoongi's pout tranformed into a gummy smile, “I’m going to Nam Joon’s apartment after work today. Can you drive me there?”

When was the last time the three of them hung out? Hoseok couldn’t remember, couldn’t remember much past Taehyung.

He nodded, “We should stop by the convenience store on the way.”

“You’ll cook?”

“You trust Nam Joon’s cooking?”

“He doesn’t cook, Jungkook won’t let him,” Yoongi said, “but yours is better.”

Seokjin was the best.

No one said it, but they both were thinking it.

Months ago that would be ringing loud in the back of Hoseok’s mind, but currently it was a small buzzing.

Time passes.

And people get better.

And Nam Joon curses at the basketball game on TV.

And Jungkook, laughs and holds out his hand to collect his earnings from their bet.

And Yoongi complains about being stuck chopping vegetables and Hoseok smiles while he fries meat.

It’s not the same, it’s not complete.

But it’s a start.

~~

Hoseok was on the floor of his apartment, so that he could work where the sun was streaming through the window. The first sunny afternoon in days, a surprisingly wet end for summer. He scrolled through photo files. He had over thirty photos of the award winning touchdown, all of them terrible. Hoseok heaved a sigh, maybe he should ask Yoongi for help.

His phone rang.

He answered without checking Caller ID, “Hello?”

“Hey.”

Hoseok sat upright, “Hey.”

“Can you pick me up?”

Hoseok arrived at the airport within the hour. He searched through the terminal for familiar orange hair only to find that it was dark brown now. But his face was the same, no it was better, because Taehyung was smiling when he ran up to Hoseok. He wrapped his arms around Hoseok’s neck, Hoseok’s arms went to his waist. A familiar weight, familiar warmth, it had been missing for too long

“Hey,” Taehyung smiled, and then his expression turned cautious, “I’m sorry I left without telling you.”

“It’s okay," it really was, Hoseok couldn't tear his eyes away, still amazed. And they were standing there in the middle of the terminal, existing.

Hoseok found his voice, "Did you find what you were missing?”

“I did,” Taehyung answered. He gave Hoseok a chaste kiss, that melted into something more.

Hoseok hugged him tighter.

Taehyung pulled back, “I’m not moving in with you." he said too loudly, he realized this, he shrunk in Hoseok's arms, "but can I spend the night?”

“Of course.” Hoseok couldn’t say no, he could never say no. The new key could stay hidden at the bottom of his dresser. As long as Taehyung was back in his arms, and was kissing him, again, and again.

~~

Taehyung hadn’t visited his own apartment in weeks. But Hoseok was on a 3 day work trip and Taehyung refused to carry a key to that apartment. It’s not his, he doesn’t live there.

“Yes you do,” Jimin said while staring blankly at the television screen, “When was the last time I saw you?”

Taehyung shrugged. He dumped the microwaved popcorn into a bowl and brought it to Jimin on the couch.

“Why do you still pay rent?”

“Because you’re a lowly intern at a physical rehabilitation clinicand I have a steady well paying job,” Taehyung offered.

Jimin sneered. Taehyung laughed.

“Get married already.”

“No.”

Jimin blinked at him, “Why not?”

Taehyung stacked three pieces of popcorn, “I’ve never been independent before. My parents paid for my first two years of college,” Taehyung ate a hand full of popcorn, “and then my boyfriend paid for the next year.”

“Lucky bastard.”

Taehyung threw popcorn at Jimin.

“Seriously, I wish I had a rich boyfriend to pay for med school,” Jimin said.

“It wasn’t that great. He had a maid so he always bought these thigh high lace socks. They were itchy.”

Jimin pulled a face. Taehyung shrugged.

They both turned back to the drama on the television screen. The female protagonist was diagnosed with cancer. Shocking.

“So you don’t want to move in with him… because you like paying for your own things?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“You’re a strong independent woman,” Jimin teased, “you can buy your own things, you don’t need a man,”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “I am a man.”

“But you don’t need a man,” Jimin laughed.

“What are you talking about,” Taehyung laughed, “I need him…”

Jimin stopped, a question played on his eyes.

A question that Taehyung cannot answer, because how does one explain warmth without saying heat? How does one describe love without singing? And Taehyung cannot find the words to describe the happiness he feels when he wakes up in Hoseok’s arms. Or when they’re buying groceries and Hoseok doesn’t scold him for leaving the list on the kitchen counter, and they play a guessing game for that’s not in the pantry. When the groceries are put away, they have three gallons of milk and no cartons of eggs, but none of that matters when they have each other.  And 24 hours in a day are too few for Taeyung, with too many gaps where he’s at work, or commuting, or anywhere that isn’t with Hoseok. And if he extended the day he knows it would do nothing to sate the want, to sate the incomplete moments where they’re not together. Even when the spend the day touching each other, when it’s Sunday and they wake up kissing and don’t leave the bed until noon, and don’t leave the bedroom until mid afternoon, and the evening is spent hand in hand, and the night spent whispering secrets under sheets, Taehyung still wants more time. Sleep is terrible because those are hours spent separated.

And those thoughts scare Taehyung.

Too intense, too foreign, unlike any emotions Taehyung has ever had for a lover.

Those former flames are like smoke trails compared to the bonfire that burns for Hoseok.

And how does one become independent when they feel incomplete?

Taehyung chewed on his bottom lip, “I just… I need to find myself first…”

Jimin frowned.

Taehyung ate a handful of popcorn, and returned his attention to the drama on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long to update