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you can be my muse

Summary:

Yoongi is bad with feelings. He thinks Hoseok knows.

Notes:

title from muse by o.c.a.d.

Work Text:

The studio is cold.

It’s been cold for the last few weeks because Namjoon did something irreparably horrible to the portable heater that Yoongi had, and even all his tools and skills couldn’t save it. It’s cold enough that Jimin had made tutting noises and smuggled in two thick blankets, draping them over Yoongi with explicit instructions to use them, hyung. Taehyung had wandered his way into the room once before immediately exiting, rubbing his hands together morosely.

Hyung, how do you stand it?

It’s a hard question to answer. Yoongi ponders this as his fingers freeze over his keyboard. He can’t really explain how he likes the cold, exactly like how he can’t explain the way he looks at Hoseok’s smile and thinks of the sun. It’s the same way he can’t explain why he has one and a half notebooks filled with song lyrics that will never see the light of day, the way his heart races when he exits his studio late at night and sees light below the door to the dance studio.

How he keeps going anyway, because there are some things he’s never asked of the world and one of them is being alone with Hoseok in the dead of night without other people to distract him.

The clock slowly ticks its way over to eleven p.m. Yoongi stretches the kinks from his back, wincing when they crack. He’s not eaten yet, but Seokjin would have leftovers in the refrigerator for him to heat up when he gets back to the dorms. The question, as ever, is if he gets back to the dorms. He’s too busy penning songs of heartache, most of the time. No fucking wonder Namjoon writes about sex; it’s too hard not to write about the only thing on his mind.

There is a tiny, nearly inaudible knock, and the door creaks open slightly. “Hyung?”

Jimin. The scuffle and muffled whisper behind him would be Jungkook. “Yeah?”

“Jin-hyung was wondering if you’ll be eating dinner with us.”

Yoongi glances at the clock again. Eleven p.m. Is he the last one in the building? “Everyone’s back at the dorms already?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook’s voice arcs, airy and sweet, through the silence. “Jin-hyung was bugging everyone to get back, but he guessed that you haven’t checked your phone.”

Yoongi had wondered why the fuck his phone was buzzing so much in the last hour, nearly vibrating itself off the table. It’s stuck somewhere in the corner now because Yoongi didn’t have the patience to unlock it and set it to ‘silent’. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Um,” Jimin says. The silence swells. “It’s Hoseokie-hyung’s birthday.”

Yoongi knew he was forgetting something.

--

Hoseok smiles like the sun.

Jimin gets him brand new shoes. Taehyung and Jungkook pool their money together to buy him a pair of ripped jeans, the kind that would be comfortable to dance in. Seokjin cooks the entire spread, all of Hoseok’s favourite foods. Namjoon gets him a new pair of headphones.

Yoongi forgets.

The painful thing, he thinks, is that Hoseok doesn’t even look surprised.

--

“I was just wondering, hyung,” Jimin starts.

Yoongi jerks up from his daze. The shopping trolley in front of him moves a few inches. Jimin grabs it before it can roll its way down the aisle.

When Yoongi meets his gaze, he looks worried and too careful. “You look terrible,” he says. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

Yoongi checks his watch. “I slept in the morning,” he says, which is true. He just spent the entire night pored over his notebook because there’s really only one way he can dig out that remembered ache in his chest, when he looked at Hoseok’s smile and it curved slightly in disappointment and Yoongi never wanted that, he’s sorry, but he doesn’t have the music to put it to words and he’s never good at this. Jimin doesn’t have to know that he only slept an hour, like Jimin doesn’t have to know everything else—Jimin is sweet and caring and kind and doesn’t need to deal with Yoongi throwing irrelevant shit onto his plate like feelings.

Jimin’s eyes narrow a little in disbelief, but he tactfully ignores it. “I was saying,” he begins, “that I was wondering. If you were mad at Hoseok-hyung.”

Mad is certainly one way to put it, Yoongi thinks. “No, I’m not.”

He must have pulled off an impressive scowl because Jimin hastens to add, “I was just curious! Because, um, you haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. At least until last night, which was his birthday, and you kinda forgot? Which is not your fault, because I know Hoseok-hyung knows that you’ve been really busy and stressed over the new album so he completely understands, but I was just- wondering.”

Yoongi reaches up and tosses a few ramen cups into the trolley.

Jimin winces. “Hyung?”

“Get more of the chicken-flavoured one.” Yoongi rolls the trolley forward.

Jimin’s mouth curves into a small, sweet smile. “It’s Hoseok’s favourite. I know.”

--

There’s a lot of things that Yoongi would want to do before he dies.

Firstly, he’ll like to win the fucking daesang. As much as he thought that shit was impossible pre-debut, it looms closer and closer with every successful comeback they pull off, and eventually, if the stars align correctly, maybe

Secondly, even though he admits this to exactly none of his members, he’ll like to have a kid. Adopted or whatever. It already feels like he’s living with three children, between Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook—but it’s not a terrible feeling all the time. He likes buying Jungkook lamb skewers and watching the boy forget his diet and stuff his face. He brings home souvenirs from Daegu and gives them to Taehyung, and he has no idea why Taehyung treats it like it’s the best thing ever every single time. It goes without saying that he has a massive soft spot for Jimin. So maybe somewhere down the line, he’ll like to have a kid. It’s no big deal.

Thirdly, he should probably confess to Hoseok before he fucking dies alone and miserable.

--

It turns winter in a blink of an eye.

Yoongi has no real idea of the transition, or the time involved in making the streets glisten white with fallen snow, but abruptly it’s winter in Seoul and he’s suddenly standing in front of the company building and watching Jimin and Jungkook and Taehyung and Seokjin play happily with each other.

“Watch out!” Taehyung calls just as Jungkook smashes snow the size of a boulder into Seokjin’s face. Yoongi hopes that Seokjin hadn’t just inadvertently suffered a head injury.

“Hyung.” Soft, careful, almost gentle in a way. Not sweet like Jimin or carelessly disrespectful like Jungkook or hopelessly happy like Taehyung. Yoongi closes his eyes for a brief second and breathes in the scent of fresh pine.

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok comes up beside him like the breeze, near-unnoticeable, and when he smiles his dimples flash. “I can’t believe you’re out of the studio this early.”

Yoongi glances up at the dimmed sun, covered by a liberal veil of heavy clouds. “Hmm. Me neither.”

Hoseok’s fingers link through his as easy as breathing. Yoongi doesn’t pull away—but he never does, with Hoseok. It’s like sucking in a breath and letting Hoseok’s presence expand in the corners of himself that he never knew were empty.

“Jin-hyung said he made dinner.”

Yoongi smiles wryly. “Jin always makes dinner. Especially when he feels like we need to be more of a family.”

Hoseok tugs on his hand. “Aren’t we?”

Yoongi watches Taehyung chase Jungkook around with a fistful of melting snow. Jimin is giggling so hard he’s bent over, holding his stomach in pain. Seokjin sneaks up on him with all the presumed grace of the graceless. Namjoon is sitting in the passenger’s seat of their manager’s car, hollering helpful tips to a vulnerable Jungkook. There’s laughter, sharp and bright and tart, like a beam of light through the stillness of dust. There’s happiness, vibrant and consuming.

There’s Hoseok’s hand in Yoongi’s, always too careful.

“Let’s have dinner,” Yoongi decides.

Hoseok’s smile reaches his eyes. He nods and leads the way to the car.

--

Yoongi doesn’t confess.

He thinks Hoseok’s smile softens when he sees Yoongi alone, sitting in the darkness of a dim studio. He thinks that Hoseok comes up to him to link hands any time he can, even when nothing demands for it. He thinks that Hoseok forgives him for the birthday, and his curt tone of voice when he’s busy and focused, and every single mistake after that.

Yoongi is bad with feelings.

He thinks Hoseok knows.

He thinks Hoseok loves him back, anyway.