Chapter Text
Hoseok isn’t surprised. Not really. He’s not even really surprised at the time or place it happens.
It isn’t like they’re not always here. Hoseok dances here, and Yoongi writes and produces here. And because Yoongi is the very definition of a workaholic, that means they’re always here.
Hoseok has long since finished dance practice and lounges on the black leather couch that sits at the back of his girlfriend’s studio, messing around on his phone while she goes over whatever it is she’s working on with a fine-tooth comb.
Honestly, Yoongi is a fucking boss. She takes shit from nobody, which is how she’d scored this job in the first place. She hasn’t been working here long but already has set up office in one of the nicest studios in the entire building. Hoseok had informed her about the job (currently, he was a choreographer here for trainees) just under six months ago, and after a three-month application process and a rigorous but subtle I-won’t-take-your-shit-give-me-this-job attitude, she had scored it.
Needless to say, the attitude isn’t a front. Neither is the work ethic. She doesn’t work as diligently as she does just because it was some dead-end job she had no ground or true interest in. Yoongi is passionate about music. It’s her everything (as much as she would tell Hoseok that it isn’t, but it’s okay), and nothing can distract her from it.
Which is why Hoseok is kind of weirded out right now.
Yoongi has done hardly anything but click around on the screen for a while, fingers hovering on the mouse scroll. Hoseok quirks an eyebrow at the back of her head, frowning.
“Everything alright?” Yoongi jumps.
“Yeah. Yeah,” she nods, clearing her throat. “Fine. All good. Almost done, I think.” Yoongi’s leg begins to bob up and down and Hoseok locks his phone, sticking it in the pocket of his sweats. He is the opposite of convinced. He pushes himself up off of the couch and steps across the room, seating himself in a rolling chair beside Yoongi.
“Everything alright,” Hoseok repeats, leaning in. Yoongi doesn’t turn to face him and Hoseok watches her eyes flicker all around the screen. Her pale skin is glowing in the light of the computer screen and her tongue flicks out to wet her chapped lips. The silence stretches on but Hoseok doesn’t take his eyes off of the back of his girlfriend’s head. Her short, light hair is a minty green now. Just as Hoseok turns his attention back to his phone, Yoongi’s raspy voice cuts through the silence:
“I’m a boy.”
Hoseok isn’t surprised that here is where it happened, he’s not even surprised that it happened at all. Nothing drops in his stomach, there’s no hiccup in the rhythm of his heart.
“Okay.”
Yoongi’s head whips toward his direction and whatever tightness that was locked in her- his- chest explodes. There’s a supernova inside of him, sending particles of nervousness and anxiety throughout his limbs until they fizzle into nothing at his fingertips. Okay.
“Okay?” Yoongi swallows and his eyes nervously scan Hoseok’s face. The other is smiling and Yoongi knows, he knows that Hoseok is genuine (when is he never genuine?). He nods and Yoongi lets out a huff of breath, face turning back to the screen. “Okay.”
They’re quiet for a while after that. Yoongi finding it better to slip headphones over his ears and finish up whatever it is he’s working on. Hoseok knows he’ll change it tomorrow. Yoongi doesn’t work well when he’s stressed and even after the confession his fingers are still shaking over the keyboard. It’s nearing eleven when Hoseok cards a hand into the hair at the back of Yoongi’s head.
“You ready to go,” he asks when Yoongi slips the headphones around his neck. Yoongi nods and Hoseok offers him a simper before leaning forward and planting a kiss on the apple of his cheek.
They don’t live far from their shared apartment. They had landed it just under a year ago, when Hoseok had gotten the job at BigHit as a choreographer. It was easy, a fifteen minute walk to work and since neither of them drove…
“You wanna talk about anything?” Hoseok’s hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie and he turns to look at Yoongi after walking in silence for a good five minutes. Yoongi’s tongue wets his lips and he huffs out a breath. It turns into warm, wet flumes in the cold before disappearing into the biting night air.
“Not yet, I don’t think.” Hoseok leaves it at that.
---------
Yoongi has trouble falling asleep that night. It’s nearing four in the morning when he slips out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping boyfriend. The wooden floor beneath his feet is freezing and he shudders when he takes his first steps out of their bedroom, swiping his phone off of the dresser before padding down the hall and into the living room.
He doesn’t know what it is, but something isn’t right. Yoongi had spent all day, planning and reciting in his brain just what he would say, and he said it: I’m a boy. That’s it, that’s how things would start. And then Hoseok would ask questions, and he would be confused and Yoongi would be afraid. But that’s not what happened.
I’m a boy.
Okay.
He doesn't know how one word can convey so much understanding and patience. To Yoongi’s knowledge, Hoseok has never lied to him before but he still can’t help but feel that this is the calm before a category 5 storm. He’s standing at a precipice, just waiting for one little word to push him over.
Yoongi thumbs through his phone, mind running a mile per minute as he flips through Instagram, not really paying attention to anything in particular. Namjoon had posted a photo four hours ago and his stomach clenches, reminding himself that he’s going to have to come out to the whole group, now.
“W’you doin’ up, babe?” Yoongi jumps a bit when he hears Hoseok’s sleepy voice from the mouth of the hallway and he turns his head, drawing the quilt over his legs over his waist and stomach. Hoseok only calls him pet names when he’s feeling extra affectionate, which is how he always gets when he’s tired.
“Can’t sleep,” is all Yoongi replies with. Hoseok’s heavy footsteps drag over to the couch and he plops down, not wasting time in sliding himself to fit against Yoongi’s side. He sighs then, nuzzling into Yoongi’s chest and winding his arms around the minty-headed other’s middle. A bit of shuffling has to be done but they accommodate each other and once they’re settled, Hoseok is laying between Yoongi’s legs with his cheek pressed against a soft chest and Yoongi has his free hand tangled in dark bedhead-styled hair. Yoongi looks down, fond as he hears Hoseok’s breath even out. Something twists in his stomach, though, when his face nuzzles at the space between Yoongi’s breasts.
I’m a boy.
For the most part, Yoongi is fairly content with his body. He’s thin, generally lacking in the curves department, but his chest is a problem. For his small frame, he’s generally busty. The C-cups are nothing short of a bother and they stand out like a sore thumb when he stares in the mirror. He does his best not to look too often.
For a moment, he wonders if Hoseok has ever noticed his dislike for his chest. He’s not really voiced it before, but he knows that his boyfriend had picked up on the way he squirmed away when he felt that too much attention was being paid to them. It’s evident Hoseok likes them though, judging from how often his mouth is glued to them. Sometimes he indulges Hoseok, letting his mouth latch on and suck and nibble. Sometimes he forgets his insecurity (even if just for a moment) and loses himself in the feeling.
It’s not like it doesn’t feel good, it’s that he hates that he’s involuntarily cursed with these things that don’t actually belong on his body.
As for not having a penis, well, that he didn’t see so much as having a problem. His vagina wasn’t as obvious as the unwanted lumps on his chest.
“You should get in bed.” Yoongi pets softly at the back of his boyfriend’s head, to which he replies with a soft hum.
“Can’t sleep without you.” Yoongi knows that to be true. When he and Hoseok first met, he was blown away at the amount of energy the other had. He was like the goddamn energizer bunny running on solar power; Hoseok had no off switch. It wasn’t until they started sharing a bed that Yoongi realized how good Hoseok was at putting on a facade.
They slept practically glued together, and it didn’t take long for Yoongi to realize why. It was an almost instantaneous difference: the bags beneath Hoseok’s eyes that Yoongi had come to accept as part of him disappeared. He seemed to glow in the mornings after getting a full night’s rest, bedhead and all. The nights that Yoongi didn’t stay over always had Hoseok looking just a few shades dimmer and finally he put two and two together.
He and Hoseok had a talk about it after that. He had been diagnosed with insomnia at a young age and during his few and fleeting relationships it seemed that the only cure was sleeping with someone versus sleeping alone. Since they had moved in together a year ago, he’d never seen Hoseok look this healthy and happy.
“Wanna talk about it?” Hoseok’s gravelly voice pulls him back to reality and Yoongi sets his phone down on the coffee table. Both hands card through soft, dark hair idly now and Hoseok looks up at Yoongi with sleepy eyes. His heart constricts with just how fondly he feels for his boyfriend. He doesn’t say it much, but he loves Hoseok with every fiber of his being.
Which is exactly why he’s so terrified.
“I dunno,” Yoongi murmurs back. Hoseok closes his eyes.
“Are you scared?” He knows sometimes Yoongi has difficulty speaking about touchy subjects, so Hoseok finds it appropriate to prompt him. If he didn’t, it was highly likely that Yoongi will say nothing at all and keep whatever he’s feeling all bottled up. The lack of a response is answer enough. “You can tell me anything, you know,” Hoseok whispers. “You know that. I know you do.”
Yoongi feels his eyes mist up and he clears his throat, staring at the television’s black screen.
“I know.”
Hoseok peels himself from Yoongi’s front and looms over him, grabbing his boyfriend’s face and turning his head to look up at him. Brown eyes flicker all over Hoseok’s face in the darkness of the unlit living room. Hoseok opens his mouth as if to speak, but closes it quickly. He exhales softly and Yoongi’s eyes flutter to a close when warm breath trickles across his face. His cheeks heat up and he turns his head, mouthing at one of Hoseok’s thumbs.
“Please don’t be afraid of me leaving.” Hoseok’s voice is so small and something tightens in Yoongi’s chest. Instead of speaking he parts his mouth, nibbling on the soft pad of his boyfriend’s thumb. Hoseok doesn’t pull away. “I wouldn’t leave you for anything in the world. You know that, right?” Yoongi doesn’t miss the desperation in Hoseok’s voice and he feels a sob bubble up into his throat. He keeps his eyes closed, keeps the wetness behind his lashes, where it belongs.
Silence, before he hears Hoseok’s watery voice:
“Please tell me you know that.” Yoongi can’t help the rush of breath that seems to be knocked from his lungs and does his damndest to swallow the lump in his throat.
“I know,” he offers pathetically. Finally, his wet eyes look up at Hoseok’s, whose look equally as glossy. “Hobi,” Yoongi whines and Hoseok all but yanks him up by his shoulders and crashes their chests together, hugging him impossibly tight, “‘m scared.”
-------
Things aren’t really different. Yoongi is still quiet, still sarcastic, still affectionate when it’s time to be. They still argue over whether eating pizza for three nights in a row is acceptable or not. It is. There are a few times Hoseok mixes up Yoongi’s pronouns, and he apologizes swiftly afterward.
“You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.” Yoongi keeps his eyes downcast, chopping vegetables slowly for their dinner. Hoseok looks over at his boyfriend quizzically. “Sorry, I mean. Just- correct yourself and continue with your sentence. I know you don’t mean it.”
“Are you sure?” Hoseok won’t say it out loud, but it makes him nervous. It’s only been two weeks but he feels like he’s walking on eggshells. Yoongi hasn’t really dished about anything after coming out, so Hoseok is still gravely unsure about...pretty much everything. How long has Yoongi felt this way? What was the seed that planted in his mind that made him feel that way, if any? Hoseok finds himself less concerned with the future of their relationship and more focused on Yoongi, as an individual, and what this means for him.
“Yes,” Yoongi huffs through an exasperated sigh. The silence in the kitchen returns, save the sound of utensils in use. Hoseok opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Yoongi: “And...I know I haven’t really...said much, but.” He pauses to clear his throat. Hoseok watches him as he speaks, eyes still trained on the task at hand. “If- if you have any questions about anything, you can ask me.” Finally Yoongi looks up, locking eyes with Hoseok.
Hoseok swallows, murmuring a quiet “okay.”
When Yoongi responds with an encouraging smile Hoseok let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
“I’m scared.” His voice wavers just a bit and Yoongi’s chest constricts. He drops his knife, striding over and grabbing Hoseok’s face. “I don’t know if this means things are gonna be different, I don’t know what to do and I’m scared I’m going to fuck up or- or- or I just- Yoongi, I don’t-”
Thumbs stroke his cheeks as Hoseok babbles on and a smile spreads slowly across Yoongi’s face.
“Like, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, ever, and- why are you smiling? What? What’s going on, what did I say?” A laugh bubbles up from Yoongi’s throat and Hoseok narrows his eyes. “Seriously, what?”
“You,” Yoongi laughs. “I didn’t know you could be this much of a baby, is all.” Hoseok balks at this, waving the wooden spoon in his hand at nothing in particular with a choked noise. Yoongi’s arms wind their way around his boyfriend’s shoulders, whose hands come to wind around his waist.
“I promise, you’re doing fine. I- Hoseok, I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me that you’re,” Yoongi’s voice trails off and his eyes scan Hoseok’s face: he’s still worried, but less so, “supportive.” Encouraging, Yoongi thinks. Hoseok has shown nothing but excitement for Yoongi in whatever he’s wanted to do, even before he was out and transitioning. Whether it be writing or music or that brief moment in time he had wanted to return to school (it lasted for a single semester).
“It- it makes me feel, ah…” Yoongi looks down, still cradling himself against his boyfriend’s chest. “Brave. I think maybe that soon, I can tell the others.” He bumps his forehead softly against Hoseok’s collar and exhales loudly. Hoseok kisses softly at the top of his head.
“Well,” he says slowly, beginning to sway them back and forth, “I’m ready when you are.”
Later, after they’ve started and ended their impromptu slow dance session in the kitchen, after they’ve filled their bellies and watched two episodes of Downtown Abbey, Hoseok brings it up:
“Do you- do you want me to tell them first?” Hoseok looks up from his phone. “I could send them a text.” Yoongi’s fingers pull at the fraying edges of the quilt that’s draped over his thighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t take his eyes off the television.
“No.” Yoongi’s voice is so quiet Hoseok doesn’t catch it at first. If he hadn’t been watching his boyfriend’s lips he wouldn’t have picked up on it in the first place. He repeats it again, louder this time, and turns his head to look Hoseok in the face. “No, I want to tell them myself. In person.”
Hoseok smiles over at Yoongi and his heart catches in his throat.
“Proud of you,” Hoseok says as he reaches for Yoongi’s hand, threading their fingers together. Yoongi nods and bites at his lower lip before crawling into his boyfriend’s space, abandoning the warmth of his blanket. He feels a soft kiss planted at the top of his head and a wave of affection courses out from his chest and into his limbs. Something inside of him is still terrified, eating away at his gut, even though Hoseok hasn’t seemed to have a single problem with anything.
Yoongi hates how worried he is that one day Hoseok will wake up and change his mind.
---------
The first day Yoongi is “out” isn’t really a special day at all. He isn’t dressed any differently, not really. The only real change is that he’s wearing a binder under his loose long-sleeved shirt. Round glasses are perched at the end of his nose and his head is capped by a black beanie. Hoseok smiles at him as they near the cafe they’ve planned to meet the others at. The corners of Yoongi’s lips twitch upwards but only for a minute. His exterior seems cool, but Hoseok knows he’s a little bit nervous. He loops an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him against his side while they walk, smacking a light kiss onto mint hair.
“I’m very proud of you,” he mumbles into downy locks. Yoongi ducks his head down, shoving his smile into his scarf. “I’m excited for you.” Butterflies swell in Yoongi’s stomach. He finds new courage in Hoseok’s words. It flickers a bit when Hoseok pulls open the door to the cafe and he’s hit with the gravity of the situation, of what he’s supposed to say during lunch. As if by some stroke of magic, Hoseok seems to read his mind.
“You don’t have to say anything if you’re too nervous, remember.” He unwinds his arm from around Yoongi’s shoulder to pull his scarf off. It’s warm inside the cafe. Yoongi finds it appropriate to do the same as they near the back. Anxiety clogs his throat as he spots his friends, seated around a big round table at the very back of the cafe. They’re all laughing and smiling already; today is just another day, for them.
“Hoseok! Yoongi!” It’s Seokjin who spots them first and he lifts a hand, shooting them a smile. The rest of the table turns their head to the incoming duo, greeting them with loud hello’s and what’s up’s. Yoongi lifts his chin in a greeting that isn’t unlike himself and Hoseok sports a bright smile, immediately engaging in conversation with Taehyung as he slides into the seat next to him. Yoongi sits beside Namjoon, folding his hands in front of him after slipping out of his coat.
He feels naked, somehow, even though he’s now wearing an extra layer beneath his loose black top.
“You guys want coffee or anything,” Namjoon asks, turning around and searching for a waitress to flag down.
“Please,” Yoongi says, a bit more ragged than he had intended. Namjoon shoots him a curious look but before he can ask anything there’s a waitress at his side. “Just coffee, please.” Hoseok chimes in with his drink order, just water (he hardly ever drinks anything else).
Nothing really feels different to anyone else. Hoseok is talking animatedly with Taehyung, Jimin and Jeongguk, Namjoon and Seokjin murmur quietly to each other, tossing glances and questions to Yoongi to include him in their conversation. The panic beginning to bubble in the pit of his gut simmers, threatening to turn into a full boil at the drop of a hat.
He feels a bit of tension ease when Hoseok’s warm hand finds his thigh, running up and down and gently squeezing. Neither of the two look at each other, but Yoongi hopes Hoseok knows how thankful he is for the gesture. He secures his hand over Hoseok’s. They don’t let go of each other’s fingers as they order, as they eat (Yoongi is ok using his non-dominant hand. After all, he doesn’t think he has it in him to let go of Hoseok’s).
“You alright?” It’s Jimin’s voice that pulls Yoongi’s eyes away from his plate of food. He can’t bring himself to eat much, anyway- he’s mostly just pushing it around his plate and sneaking little bites when he knows Hoseok’s looking. Jimin’s face shows concern and Yoongi pries his fingers off of Hoseok’s. His boyfriend turns his head to look at him, frowning. Yoongi nods.
“I gotta- I’m gonna go get some air.” He swallows hard, dropping his fork and standing up quickly. His chair scrapes across the ground but he can hardly hear it for the blood pounding in his ears. It feels like he’s walking on pillows, too soft and difficult to walk in a straight line as he makes his way to the front of the cafe and shoves out the front door. The chime in his ear as the door shuts sounds far off; maybe it’s all the cotton that seems to be stuffed into his head.
He’s hyperventilating, he knows. Yoongi doubles over, hands on his knees as his eyes widen and focus on the ground. Everything is shaking and moving and spinning.
“Yoongi?” He doesn’t hear it the first time. He’s panting too loudly, sucking in big gulps of air but it still feels like he can’t get enough, like he’s drowning in water that’s just too deep. Hands on his shoulders, then, and his skin buzzes beneath them. It’s cold outside and it stings his cheeks. “Yoongi, sit down.”
Somehow he’s steered to the outside wall of the shop. If there were any breath left in his lungs, it would have been knocked out of him as his back hits the concrete exterior, sliding down to sit on the ground.
“I can’t do this.”
“It’s okay, Yoongi. Breathe- good- in and out. There you go, good.” A large hand presses on his chest and Yoongi panics, the binder beneath Seokjin’s fingers a constricting reminder of what he’d come here to do, today. Seokjin’s other hand glides across the back of his shoulders, left to right, and he coaxes Yoongi to “just breathe, okay?” The ringing in his ears dies down and the soft encouragements sound less far-off now.
“There you go, good,” Seokjin coos beside him. Yoongi’s eyes come back into focus and he notices, now, his fingers gripping tightly at the hand that had been pressed to his chest, squeezing too tight, so small in comparison.
Minutes pass, his breathing steadies minutely and he begins to feel the cold creep into his bones.
“Ready to go back inside?” Yoongi shakes his head quickly. “Wanna talk about it?” Seokjin’s arm is draped across his back now, hand running up and down his far shoulder in an attempt to keep out the cold.
“I don’t know.” Yoongi’s voice breaks into a high whine halfway through his answer and his hands fly to cover his face. He chokes out a sob. Seokjin’s arm immediately tightens and Yoongi is pulled into his friend’s side.
“Whatever it is,” Seokjin starts out, “you know that I love you. We all love you. Whatever troubling you, let us carry some of it, too, okay? For you.” Seokjin’s lips skim across Yoongi’s cheek as he speaks, their heads ducked low, together. Yoongi sniffles and hiccups little sobs into his palms. “We want to.”
“I don’t know- I don’t know if I can do it.” His friend’s soothing voice in his ear has managed to keep him from breaking into a sobbing fit but his fingers still tremble and his throat still aches. His face is still warm and his eyes are still wet.
“Yoongi?” He barely hears Hoseok’s voice over a particularly loud sob that refused to stay stuck in his throat. Seokjin looks up, worry painted across his face but Hoseok’s eyes only focus on his boyfriend. He crouches down in front of Yoongi, ignoring passerby on the sidewalk and his hands press to his shoulders, his hair, the wet sides of his face. Yoongi can’t manage to look up at him. “Let’s go home, okay,” Hoseok murmurs into blonde hair. “We’ll lay on the couch and pig out on shitty food in our underwear and watch-”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi wails. Shaking hands clasp at the back of his boyfriend’s neck and he draws Hoseok closer. Now Hoseok’s eyes are misty, too, Seokjin notices. He still hasn’t left Yoongi’s side, still hasn’t stopped rubbing comforting lines up and down Yoongi’s back.
“He’ll be okay,” Hoseok nods to Jin. Dark eyes that were focused on Yoongi snap up to meet Hoseok’s and they widen, just enough, for Hoseok to feel his gut sink. He presses his lips together in a tight line and squeezes his arms tighter around Yoongi’s shoulders. Hoseok wouldn’t expect anything less of Jin and how he smiles at Hoseok and nods, the weight of the single slip of a pronoun enough. He dips down to leave a kiss in Yoongi’s hair one last time before standing up and heading back into the café.