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The house was an old thing, white walls with dark wood trim, leaking cold around the windowsills in wintertime. The floorboards creaked underfoot every few steps, and the stove had been seeping gas the day they’d moved in, prompting an emergency visit from utilities. Still, it was a place that Yoongi could call home. When he woke up to the heavy scrape of cast iron on the stovetop, wooden utensils clattering and Seokjin’s soft singing voice floating from the kitchen; when he’d come home to Taehyung organizing a lolita photoshoot with Jungkook in the living room, all of their furniture pushed to the far wall while Jungkook posed in their towering pink platform boots; when Namjoon would come home from the oncology center so exhausted that he could hardly do more than slather gochujang paste on a piece of toast and call it dinner, at least until Yoongi coaxed him into eating a little more.
They had weathered so much together—objectively miserable events that Yoongi could only look back with a tired fondness. There had been the mice infestation in January, in which Jungkook had jokingly suggested that they unleash Yoongi on the tiny pests as though he were an actual cat (that had earned them a sound spanking from Namjoon on Yoongi’s behalf; he didn’t touch any of his roommates’ asses if he could help it). Then there had been the heat wave in early July, six blistering days that had prompted them to lug their only AC unit into the living room and drape sheets in the doorways to keep all the cold in one place. With Jimin and Hoseok over more often than not, it had been seven sweaty people draped over the furniture and the floor—shirts off and tits out, not a word said about all the exposed skin as they tried to survive the muggy summer together.
Yoongi kicked the front door in now, grateful that the heat had wound down enough for him to wear his Docs again (Seokjin was always scolding him for kicking the door, and Taehyung always balked at the fact that he preferred to wear shoes that laced up over his ankles). He lugged his groceries into their little foyer and announced his presence out loud, even though nobody else would be around at this hour.
“I’m home,” he called in a perfunctory monotone, straightening their shoe rack and all of Taehyung’s haphazardly stacked Birks.
Their quiet apartment greeted him with a slant of afternoon sun through the living room windows, their overworked AC resting blearily on the sill. Yoongi dumped his groceries on their dining table and sorted through his haul: locally grown strawberries for Taehyung, squeeze pouches of applesauce for Jungkook, actual vegetables for Namjoon’s lamentable diet. Seokjin had requested new cupcake tins, and for himself, he’d gotten a six-pack of craft beer that he just knew Jimin was going to judge him for (even though he was bound to wheedle half the pack off him).
Yoongi hummed to himself as he puttered around the kitchen, tidying things as he went and hunting through their cabinets for an old wine or liquor bottle. There was one thing remaining that he’d laid gently on the dining table: a bouquet of bright summer flowers, a gift to himself and his house all at once.
There were sunflowers and nasturtiums in yellow and red, clouds of baby’s breath and long strands of delphinium. Green poms and thistles clustered the spaces in between, and two unopened lilies protruded from opposite sides, their pale orange color hinting at what their full blooms would bring.
Yoongi was unpeeling the plastic packaging from their stems when he heard the front lock jiggling, and soon Taehyung was bursting through the door, his unabashed holler echoing through their foyer.
“Yoongi hyung!” he said, kicking off his sandals and narrowly missing the shoe rack.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to wear open-toed shoes to work,” said Yoongi in amusement, leaning back in his seat automatically as Taehyung wrapped his arms around him from behind. He smelled like fresh bread, and Yoongi nuzzled him to catch a deeper whiff.
“I got an extra pair of sneakers that I keep at the bakery,” he said with a wink, plopping into the seat next to Yoongi and leaning in to examine the flowers.
“Is that where Jungkook’s Adidas went?” said Yoongi as he picked apart the ribbons of raffia. Taehyung held a finger to his lips and shushed him.
“They’ve had that pair for like, six years! They’re not gonna miss ‘em.”
“So you stole them?” chuckled Yoongi. He laid out each of the flowers in a neat row, inspecting them for any insects that might have caught a ride home from the grocery store. “You know it’s bad for your feet, wearing other people’s shoes.”
“I’ll get Jin hyung to rub ‘em out for me,” said Taehyung with a wide grin, propping his feet up on an empty chair and wiggling his bare toes. “See what those double-jointed fingers are like in action.”
“You and your foot fetish,” laughed Yoongi. He picked off some wilted leaves from the nasturtium stems, and Taehyung crossed his arms on the table and nearly stuck his face in the blooms.
“What’s this for?” he said, turning his big eyes onto Yoongi.
Yoongi smiled. “They’re for us. And, sort of, for myself.”
“For yourself?” Taehyung’s wavy hair fell in a slant across his forehead, his face so open and childlike.
“Yeah,” said Yoongi with a shy little laugh. His shoulders moved up and down with it, and Taehyung’s eyes crinkled at the sight. “Remember when Jungkook got me roses, way back when they didn’t know I was aro?”
“Yes,” cackled Taehyung, pillowing his cheek in his palm. “Poor baby. They were so determined to woo you by the book.”
Yoongi wrinkled his nose, then shook his head. Jungkook’s crush had never abated, but had maybe transformed into something else—a playful kind of care and adoration, a desire for Yoongi to be close, no matter what their relationship looked like. Yoongi had never been bothered by it once he had clearly drawn out the lines, and here they were now—closer than they ever could have been otherwise.
“It gave me an idea,” said Yoongi, fingertips gently alighting on the tips of the sunflower petals. “I wanted to do something for myself, so… why not this?”
Taehyung was watching him with so much fondness, his cheek still squished in his hand. Yoongi gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“And besides, it’ll brighten up the house. I mean, it’s summer, right?”
“It’s like you,” said Taehyung. “When you glow, everyone feels it.”
His lips quirked in a smile, and Yoongi scoffed to hide his embarrassment.
“It’s nice to see you doing something for yourself,” he said, so much sincerity in his deep voice. Yoongi ducked his head and fiddled with the stems, rearranging the flowers by color.
Taehyung stood without another word and padded to his room, leaving Yoongi blinking at the space he’d just occupied. A moment later, his voice echoed from down the hall.
“I thought you might want something prettier than an old plum wine bottle,” he said, reappearing with a simple milk glass vase and handing it off to Yoongi, who turned it over and ran his fingers along its fluted design. It had a flared lip, a long neck, and a wide base—perfect for their raucous housemates who had a tendency to knock things over.
“Got it at a thrift store,” said Taehyung, dropping back into his seat and watching Yoongi lift it to the light. “It’s starting to feel like a real house, huh? With fresh flowers and everything?”
“Just you wait,” drawled Yoongi. “Soon we’ll be picking out coasters and having charcuterie for brunch every Sunday.”
Taehyung perked up at that. “Can there be honeyed goat cheese? And fig jam?”
Yoongi just laughed and swatted at him. “If you’re paying for it, sure.”
That shut Taehyung up, and he watched as Yoongi pored over the flowers, carefully selecting the largest ones and arranging the rest in a close semblance of symmetry around them. The radial sunflowers shone with their crowns of gold, bracketed by the delphinium and buoyed by froths of baby’s breath. The nasturtiums kept close to the heads of the sunflowers, and the unopened lilies nestled secretly among the thistles, waiting for their turn to unfold and impress.
“You’re a natural,” said Taehyung, turning the vase in circles and admiring the visual balance. “Interior designer Min Yoongi.”
“I take my job seriously, you know,” said Yoongi, puffing up his chest and sticking out his chin. Taehyung giggled and reached out to thumb his nose, eliciting a whine from him.
“Cute hyung,” he said, standing and wandering into the kitchen.
“Did you eat?” said Yoongi, slinging an arm over the back of his chair. “I got your strawberries.”
“Thank youuu,” said Taehyung, cupping his face and wiggling his fingers in an attempt at aegyo. Yoongi fake gagged, and Taehyung just laughed. “I’ll wash them for us, hyung. You just sit there and look pretty.”
“Easy enough,” he grunted, pulling out his phone and trying to find the best angle to photograph their flower arrangement. He was in the middle of squatting on the floor to capture the way the dark wood trim of their walls framed the organic burst of color when Seokjin walked through the front door, took one look at their foyer, and sighed.
“Taehyung,” he called out.
Taehyung appeared in the kitchen doorway with a paring knife in hand, his fingertips stained red with strawberry juice.
“Yes?” he said, blinking. And then: “Oh, shoes. Sorry, hyung. Let me put this down.”
“Yes, please put the murder weapon down before you clean up your messes,” said Seokjin, toeing off his own dress shoes and padding over to Yoongi. “What are you doing down there, Min Froggie?”
Yoongi blushed and stood as Seokjin slumped into a chair and started rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. He was the only one of them who had to dress in business casual for work, and Yoongi subtly watched as his forearms came into view, veins standing prominently from the summer heat. He might not want to date Seokjin, but he could appreciate a beautiful man when he saw one.
“I got flowers for us,” he said, showing Seokjin his phone gallery and gesturing at the bouquet. Seokjin’s eyes softened as he touched the green poms and thistles—so plain compared to the radiant petals of the other flowers, but necessary for the overall balance.
“These would make funny antennae wouldn’t they?” he snickered, and Yoongi smacked his hand lightly.
“Don’t take them out,” he scolded. “We just arranged them. Taetae even had a nice vase on hand.”
“Mmh, you did a good job. Did you water them?”
Yoongi paused. “No, we didn’t.”
Seokjin chuckled and stood, laying a hand on top of Yoongi’s head. “Don’t worry, Yoongichi. Hyung will do it.”
Yoongi bumped his head up into Seokjin’s hand briefly before his touch fell away. He snapped a few more pictures of the vase while the others bickered in the kitchen, and then Seokjin returned with a pitcher of cool water, condensation already misting over the glass.
“Where’d you get these from?” he said as he carefully parted the flowers to ease the lip of the pitcher between their stems.
“The supermarket. Nothing fancy, I know.” Yoongi shrugged. “It just felt like a nice thing to do.”
“You got them for us?” said Seokjin. His steady hands poured the water until it filled about half the vase, then he set the pitcher on the table without spilling so much as a drop. “How come?”
“I mean… why not?” said Yoongi with a shrug. “You take care of all of us… and you all take care of me.”
He mumbled the last bit at his lap, but he swore he could still see Seokjin’s smile in his periphery.
“Cute,” he muttered, then leaned close to him and gave a great, dramatic sniff. “You are sweeter than any flower, Yoongi-ah. I can’t be-leaf how lucky I am to live with you!”
“Hyung!” he yowled, pushing at his chest, and Seokjin laughed and relented.
“Thank you for buying these,” he said, pinching his cheek. “You want me to water them, or will you remember?”
Yoongi deliberated a moment, circling his fingers around Seokjin’s wrist and laying his cheek in his palm. “...I’ll forget.”
“I knew it,” cackled Seokjin, and Yoongi frowned and batted his hand away. “It’s okay, Yoongi-ah. That’s what hyung is here for.”
Seokjin blew a kiss at him as he left to change from his work clothes, but Yoongi didn’t have much time to grumble before Taehyung took his seat and slid a bowl full of halved strawberries his way.
“These look better this time,” observed Yoongi, plucking one strawberry half and inspecting Taehyung’s knife work.
“I didn’t mangle them,” said Taehyung proudly, and launched into a lengthy account of his day.
They split the bowl of strawberries between them, Yoongi nodding and making little noises at all the right moments, and just when Taehyung was wrapping up an anecdote about one of his favorite regulars, Jungkook slogged through the door and brought the smell of the gym with them.
“Hey, sweaty,” said Taehyung, hopping up and bounding over to give them a kiss. They were the only two in the house who shared a room, and while Yoongi was normally wary of rooming with couples, they had all known each other for so long—and what queer friend circle wasn’t slightly incestuous, anyway?
“Hey, sorry, I gotta shower,” mumbled Jungkook against Taehyung’s lips, dropping all their gym gear and immediately peeling off their shirt. “Why’s the AC off? It’s freaking hot in here.”
“You’re the hot one,” teased Taehyung, and Jungkook rolled their eyes and went to flip the AC on. It chugged to life with a reluctant buzz, and Jungkook sighed and turned their glistening back to it, bending at the waist with their hands on their knees.
“What’s that, Yoongi hyung?” they said, their bright eyes fixed on the bouquet. “Is it a special occasion?”
“It’s Yoongi Appreciation Day,” said Taehyung, looping an arm around Yoongi in a loose headlock and nuzzling the top of his head. Yoongi groused slightly, but allowed it.
“Isn’t that every day?” said Jungkook, their eyes crinkling at the corners. Their cheeks took on a tinge of red that didn’t seem like it was from the heat.
“Yeah, but hyung took the initiative this time. He’s the one who got these.” After a beat, Taehyung added, “I brought the vase, though.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Jungkook, quirking an eyebrow. They chewed their lip a moment, bunny teeth peeking out as they continued to squat in front of the AC. “I think I got something I could add.”
They wiped their remaining sweat with their damp tee shirt and ambled down the hall, returning a few minutes later with a white scrap of fabric held delicately in both hands. When they spread it on the tabletop, they revealed an intricate lace doily stitched with patterns of flowers.
“Jungkook,” breathed Taehyung, bending close to examine the detailed patterning. “I didn’t know you had stuff like this.”
Jungkook shrugged, bashful. “You know I like lace. It doesn’t have to be lingerie all the time. I like the way it feels when I run my fingers on it—the texture, I don’t know, soothes me?”
Yoongi ran his fingertips over the fabric, tracing the shape of one flower before smiling up at Jungkook.
“It’s perfect, Kookie.”
Jungkook swelled with pride, and together they lifted the vase—now heavy with water—and slid the doily underneath until it was perfectly centered. Jungkook was glowing as they sat back and examined it, and Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle and pull them in for a one-armed hug.
“Did you eat, baby?” he said, then shook his head. “No, of course you didn’t, you were just at the gym. Go shower, Taehyung and I can make dinner.”
“Hyung! I worked on my feet all day,” said Taehyung with a pout. “Can I watch anime first?”
Yoongi leveled a stare at him, but all Taehyung had to do was bat his eyelashes, and he caved. “Alright, fine. But dish duty afterwards.”
“Aye aye, captain,” he said with a grin.
Yoongi sighed and busied himself with dinner, starting with japchae for all those vegetables he was trying to get into Namjoon’s system. Jungkook joined him, damp hair hanging in their eyes and their fruity body wash rolling off their skin in waves. They dutifully cooked rice before Yoongi kicked them out of the kitchen and made them rest, which amounted to fighting with Taehyung over what anime to put on. By the time Namjoon came home, Yoongi was pulling the last of the corn cobs out of the oven, laying them next to the barbecue skewers he’d baked in lieu of a grill.
“Smells amazing in here,” mumbled Namjoon, lumbering into the kitchen with his messenger bag nearly dragging on the floor. Yoongi pulled off his oven mitts and cupped Namjoon’s face in both hands, looking him sternly in the eye.
“Are you in there?” he said, squinting up at him. “Or is the zombification process finally complete?”
Namjoon gave a tired little fake-growl, and Yoongi laughed and released him. “I made japchae. Eat that first, or you’re not getting any meat.”
“Hyung!” he whined, but Yoongi just brandished a spatula at him.
“You need fiber. You can’t keep spending a whole hour in our only bathroom every Saturday morning.”
Namjoon groaned and covered his face with his hands, and Yoongi gently shepherded him out of the kitchen. “Go change. The kids will help me set the table.”
“What’s this?” said Namjoon, peering at the bouquet with a gentle smile that dimpled his face.
“Yoongi hyung is celebrating himself!” said Taehyung where he was all tangled up with Jungkook on the couch. “And we’re helping, of course. I brought the vase.”
“And the doily’s mine,” said Jungkook from the depths of Taehyung’s armpit, their small smile just peeking through.
“It’s for all of us,” stuttered Yoongi, setting a platter of skewers on the table.
Namjoon hummed, trailing his fingers along one strand of blue delphinium. “Of course it’s for all of us. If Yoongi hyung’s happy, then we are too, right?”
Taehyung and Jungkook hollered their resounding agreement, and Yoongi covered his face with both hands.
“I can’t deal with you all…” he groaned, and Namjoon chuckled and pulled him into a hug. Yoongi only resisted slightly before melting into it.
“Hmm, I don’t have anything to add, though,” said Namjoon regretfully. “Maybe this?”
He withdrew from Yoongi, who (reluctantly) let him go as he disappeared into his room. The others helped Yoongi set the table while mysterious thumping and toppling noises rang from Namjoon’s direction, and they were just about settled in when he reemerged with his fist curled around something small.
“This,” he said softly, and laid a tiny wooden figurine of a snail on the doily, its carved head angled up towards the canopy of flowers above. “It’s Yoongi hyung.”
“Because he’s soft on the inside,” piped Jungkook.
“And the outside,” added Taehyung. “And because he’s small.”
“And because he’s his own home,” said Namjoon, settling down at the table while Jungkook started pouring water for each of them. “He doesn’t make homes of other people. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be there for him.”
“Everyone…” said Yoongi, his voice thick. He blinked then, and looked around the table. “Where’s Jin hyung? Did someone call him?”
Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t see him leave earlier?”
“What?” Yoongi deflated. “But… we’re having dinner together.”
Then the front door opened one final time and in strode Seokjin, a white square box held aloft in one hand and Jimin and Hoseok in tow behind him.
“I heard it was Yoongi Appreciation Day!” said Hoseok, brandishing a case of beer.
“Forget that,” said Jimin, shaking off his Chelsea boots and bounding to the table. “I heard Yoongi hyung has some of his pretentious craft beer that he’s willing to share.”
Yoongi groaned and accepted a fierce hug and sloppy cheek kiss from Jimin, only to be given the same treatment by Hoseok. Seokjin set his box on the table and flipped open the lid.
“I got your favorite,” he said with a wink, and Yoongi grinned up at him as he revealed a fluffy, pristine cheesecake.
“Texan tofu,” he said sagely, and Seokjin broke out into a squeaky guffaw. “Thanks, hyung.”
Seokjin bent to kiss his forehead, then whisked the cake away to the fridge. “Alright, don’t wait any longer on our behalf. Let’s eat!”
With the seven of them crammed shoulder to shoulder and the vase of flowers wobbling every so often at the center, they passed around each dish and piled Yoongi’s plate as high as he would let them. By the end of the night, he was dozing off on someone’s shoulder, the chatter of their conversation bubbling around him and the sound of dishes and running water floating in from the kitchen.
“Are we gonna do this again after these flowers have wilted?” came Hoseok’s voice from across the table. “Get a new bouquet, a new cake? More drinks?”
Jimin’s voice next to him: “As if we need an excuse to spoil him.”
“I guess it depends if hyung wants to keep celebrating himself,” hummed Namjoon. “Could be overwhelming after a while. And besides, the decision has to come from him.”
“He’s got plenty of things to celebrate,” came Jungkook’s soft voice. Yoongi could almost hear the blush in their words.
“You all contributed to this set-up too,” said Seokjin, adjusting his arm around Yoongi. His shoulder was so solid beneath Yoongi’s cheek, and he sighed in contentment, knowing the people he loved were close by. “It’d be a shame not to fill the vase once it needs new flowers.”
“You can thank me for that,” called Taehyung from the kitchen, and Yoongi hid his smile in Seokjin’s shoulder as the others scolded him for yelling.
“Thank you, Taehyung,” he said after the noise died down.
“See? Yoongi hyung loves me the most!”
“Oh no, we're not doing this,” he said, cracking his eyelids open. “I love all of you equally.” He paused. “But myself the most.”
Yoongi ducked his head and hid behind his arms as the others crowded around him, yelling their approval.