#RuPaul's Drag Race Down Under season 1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smoochkooks · 4 years

Text

—make it right 1 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jung hoseok/reader

⟶ genre: smut (coming in second part!), angst, fluff

⟶ word count: 19k+ (this part)

⟶ tags/warnings for part one: hip hop dancer!hoseok/drummer!hoseok, ballerina!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slowburn, mutual pinning, sexual tension, course language, drinking, hoseok’s hot bandmates, oc rolling her eyes at hoseok every five seconds, some banter and sarcasm, etc.

⟶ summary: he was a punk, she did ballet, avril lavigne sings, but truth to be told, there’s so much more than meets the eye about jung hoseok besides his drums, killer dancing skills and unexplained hatred for tattoos and piercings. because, under the layers of leather jackets and washed out joy division shirts, he’s still just a boy who tries to find his place in this big world.

or, alternatively: ballerina meets certain hip hop dancer slash musician who’s on a mission to win her heart with coffee dates and drumming lessons.

⟶ read second (and final) part here

The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was raining.

September had just begun, welcoming the citizens of Seoul with copious amounts of not-so-summer-like weather. And at this point, after three days of non-stopping rainfalls, you were convienced that mother nature was trying to drown the whole city.

It was Saturday afternoon, last remains of August were still in the air, hidden underneath greish clouds covering the whole sky. That didn’t seem to be any problem for the tourists though, emerging from every single corner with smartphones glued to their hands.

You were running late for your ballet dance teaching class with an umbrella in one hand and your gym bag in another, maneuvering between puddles in white trainers, praying to whatever gods that existed not to soak them through and cursing yourself for constant bad outfit choices when it came to weather. Scorching hot afternoon with friends? Let's wear something black, your brain would suggest. Rainstorm? White converse highs is a great idea!

Your mother would choke you with bare hands probably if she saw you right now.

On your way to the studio, you bumped into some old lady carrying bags of groceries. You threw quick apologies, ignoring the screams of “watch out!’’ along with deathly glares that other people were sending in your direction you, until you finally reached your destination. Exactly five minutes before the time.

Just Dance dance school, located approximately twenty-five minutes long underground ride from your flat (which as a broke college student you highly appreciated), appeared in front of your eyes.

It was a modern building, situated in a part of the city that smelled like soy sauce and burnt meat, but during four months you had been working there you got used to it. There was a nail salon on the first floor and tailor on the second, but the whole third floor belonged to the school.

You started working there on Fridays and Saturdays a while ago, after completely coincidentally stumbling upon an offer found online. The school was looking for someone who could teach kids ballet on weekends. A young, energetic person with experience and, obviously, great patience and sympathy for children.

The only thing you were lacking of was background in teaching. But the manager, Choi Jisoo, did not mind that at all. A row of gold medals and trophies sitting on your shelves was enough to convince her you’re worth giving a chance on a probationary period. After few weeks of proving your skills as the best ballet teacher miss Choi would ever think of, you had got in.

And that was how you dumped your part time job at the petrol station to teach kids at Just Dance twice a week. Friday evenings and Saturday afternoons for a decent amount of money for a college student struggling with real life shit called university fees and rent, that even scholarship couldn’t entirely underwrite.

Now, climbing up the stairs with the speed of light, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to lose this job because of your silly daytime nap that made you run late for classes.

You bursted into the locker rooms quickly, practically undressing in a hurry. After short examination in front of the mirror and fixing your usual mess of a bun, you spared a quick glance one last time at the clock. Four minutes of delay.

“Fuck!” you muttered to yourself, jogging to the practice room.

The halls, usually quite, now were filled with child-like chatter and bubbling. You frowned. That's strange, you thought to yourself. Your astonishment grew even bigger when you reached your destination, spotting a group of kids, your kids, in front of the practice room, bickering with each other.

“Hey!’’ you shouted, silencing them effectively. “Why aren't you already warming up and stretching inside?”

One of the kids, a little girl named Jiyho, stepped forward. “The room is occupied by some other group, miss. They were here when we came.” she said.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you perhaps messed up schedules and forgot there were some changes? No, that couldn’t be it. “What do you mean ‘occupied’?” you asked. “That's impossible, we've been having this classes every week here, in this room, for three months. I would know if there were any changes.”

Kids looked at you helplessly, shrugging their shoulders.

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, of course it's not your fault. I had a really crappy day and now this,’’ you drawled, pointing your hand at the door to the practice room. “Wait here. I’m gonna try to explain this quickly.’’ you added, smiling reassuringly at them.

When you opened the door, loud music filled your ears; some newest Drake's track you couldn’t remember the name of was playing from the speakers. Inside there was a group of kids, slightly older than the ones you were teaching, practing some hip-hop choreography.

Their teacher's back was facing you so you couldn’t distinguish if it was someone you knew from the school's crew. His dark hair with blonde highlights weren't familiar to you though. He was swaying to the rhythm of the music, counting the moves.

You cleared your throat loudly and there was no response. Of course no one could have heard you, not over the loud bass blasting through the speakers. You spotted the cause of your problem, a mobile phone charging in the corner of the room, so you went there and turned off the music entirely just before Drake could sing the chorus.

You cleared your throat again and this time everyone, including the dance teacher, heard you without a doubt.

Kids stopped dancing immediately and turned around, wide-eyed with heaving chests. Their teacher looked in your direction too, and now you were sure he had to be a new employee.

He was not much older than you, probably around your age. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead he wiped out with the back of his hand, his white t-shirt with the name of some punk rock band you didn't recognize was slightly sticking to his toned chest. He was good looking, you couldn’t deny that, and there was something devilish in the way he eyed your figure up and down with a smirk plastered on his lips.

You almost blushed under his gaze.

“Is there any problem, miss primaballerina?’’ he asked first, not even hiding his mocking tone.

You straightened up, ignoring his choice of words. “A problem?” you scoffed. “You and your group took the room where I have my classes every Friday and Saturday, so yeah, there is a problem.”

“The room was empty when I came here, so I just took it, it's not a big deal.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“It is a big deal. Are you blind? This room is made directly for ballet dances. See this thing beside the wall?” You pointed behind him. “It's called barre. We used that for stretching in ballet. Of course you don't know that, how an ignorant hip-hop choreographer wanna be like you would know.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself.

In the corner of your eye you saw your kids peeking through the door, clearly interested in this unusual situation.

He narrowed his eyes. “I know what this is used for, princess,” he countered. You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used for you. First primaballerina and now this? Touché. “But I still don't see the point of your outburst.”

You were slowly losing your patience. The amusement in the eyes of his dancing group started to get on your nerves. It was a battle for the life and death and you weren’t used to backing away and losing. You had kids to take care of, rent to pay and new season of RuPaul's Drag Race to watch.

So you picked up a new strategy.

“Are you perhaps new here?” you asked, startling him.

“I am, why are you asking?”

“Because if you weren't new, you would know that there is only one practice room with barres in our school. This one, which also happens to be the room where I have my ballet classes every week.” you said triumphantly with a glint of not-so subtle satisfaction in your voice. “So, can you kindly take your kids and go somewhere else?”

That's it, you praised yourself in your thoughts. You got him, he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.

The guy, however, seemed very much unaffected by your words. If anything, he was even more pleased, making your stony facade broke in seconds as you were losing your former confidence.

“No.’’ he said simply.

You gaped at him. “What?”

“I said no, princess. I need ten more minutes to finish this practice and I’m done.’’ he replied, reaching for the water bottle standing beside the wall. “Ten minutes, and you will have your bars or barrels all to yourself.”

You ignored an urge to correct him, taking a few tentative steps until you were right in front of him. He outstanded your height for a few solid centimeters, making you feel even smaller than you already were.

In addition, you hated him even more for looking this good even up close.

“Ten more minutes?! I should have started my lesson fifteen minutes ago! My kids are waiting!” You outstretched your arms in the direction where your group was watching the situation cautiously. They looked like tennis match spectators, turning their heads left and right as the argument progressed.

“So are mine,” he snapped back in calm tone, his lips twitching in an amused smile. Your nostrils flared.

“Miss? We could use another room today. We don't mind.” one of the girls from your group, Jihyo as you assumed, proposed shyly.

“But I do mind! I’m not gonna leave it like that!’’ you said firmly, still looking straight into your new rival's eyes.

“Geez, loosen up your primaballerina skirt a little maybe.”

“It’s called tutu, you ignorant assh–!”

“What on Earth is going on here?” the manager, Choi Jisoo asked, entering the room. She was a middle-aged woman, once a contemporary dancer, now leading the school on behalf of her husband. Her red high heels were clicking loudly on the polished parquet surface as she was coming up in your direction. “I heard shouting, so I came to check. Can someone explain me why aren't you having your classes now?”

You immediately rushed to the manager, taking her hands in yours. “Miss Choi, I will explain everything. This man right here,” You pointed at the cause of your anger with distaste written all over your face and he simply rolled his eyes. “took my practice room and I have no place to have my classes.”

Miss Choi turned to look at the choreographer as well. “Is that true, Hoseok?’’ she asked.

The guy, Hoseok, nodded. “This room was empty, so I just took it. I didn’t know someone was supposed to teach here later.”

You scoffed. “There's a graphic hanging on the wall when you enter the building, you should've just–”

“Silence!” miss Choi said loudly and you stopped speaking, face flushed from the embarrassment of being scolded like that by your boss. “Jung Hoseok is indeed new here, so I will let that situation pass. And you, Y/N, will take another room for today’s practice.”

“But–”

“There's no buts. I’m sure Hoseok will know from now on in which room he should have his dance lessons. Go back to your groups, you are dismissed.” she added and left the room, leaving you to stare at her disappearing figure with wide eyes.

You clenched your fists by your sides, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. “Kids, go to the room 23.” you uttered, eyes focused on Hoseok.

He smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “See you around, princess.” he half-whispered and winked.

Beginnings are always tough, and that was why after your first encounter with Jung Hoseok, you were certain you absolutely, undeniably hated his guts.

The second time you bumped into Jung Hoseok, it was Friday evening two weeks since ‘the accident' and you were walking out of locker rooms after your practice.

When you opened the door and heard strangled cry of “Ah, fuck!” you rushed to blurt out quick apologies to your victim. “Oh my God, I’m so–” you started but immadietly shut your mouth when you saw the person who you just hit.

Jung Hoseok, in his full glory of another The Clash t-shirt (you googled their music your first encounter with him and the only nice think you could say about them was that Jonathan played their song in Stranger Things first season) and yes, grey sweatpants (did he even own other clothes?) was standing before you, grinning in the most annoying way you could ever think of.

You wished you could wipe his smug expression off his face with sand paper.

“Fancy seeing you here too, princess,” he trailed off, leaning against the door and making you roll your eyes like every time you saw him on the halls of Just Dance. Even though you were avoiding him like a plague, he seemed to appear wherever you were. A true pain in the ass.

Maybe you were too stubborn, maybe it was your shitty coping mechanism, but decent conversation with someone like Jung Hoseok wasn’t your favourite part of the day, not after the way you were humiliated in front of your boss and underaged students.

Last week you walked past Hoseok's group and some of them giggled. You could swear they were already making jokes and memes about you behind your back.

And, the worst of it all, an absolute peak of your devastation, was the fact that even your own kids, those who were looking up to you, started to be more reserved around you. Jihyo baked some muffins because she had birthday the other day and didn’t treat you. Jihyo, the girl who once had told you she wanted to be like you in the future.

But none of this anymore.

You turned on your heels and started to walk away but Hoseok followed your footsteps. “Hey, it's rude not to apologize. My right hand hurts now, you know? I need you to kiss it better, princess.” he called, again in the same mocking tone he had used before.

And that was the moment you decided that if choking people to death had been legal, Jung Hoseok would have been already lying dead on the floor.

You ignored his words the best you could, acting like he was invisible. Avoiding the problem wasn’t the best idea you could ever think of, your mum would say but she wasn’t there, so you concluded it was better to act like Hoseok and the situation with practice rooms two weeks ago had never happened.

Hoseok, on the other hand, had very much different outlook on this. “Are you still mad about this thing with practice rooms?’’ he asked, looking at your right profile. You clamped your mouth shut, staring forward. He chuckled. “Christ, I didn't know you're that picky. Are all primaballerinas like this? Right, you are giving me silent treatment, I forgot. But can you please stop and listen what I have to say for a moment?”

After hearing his last words you actually stopped in your tracks, causing Hoseok to do the same.

You sighed heavily. Maybe he was right after all. You were a bitch sometimes, you couldn’t handle the defeats well and above all, you had probably the worst coping mechanism ever.

That was not the end of the world, somebody would say. Don't worry, be happy, Bob Marley would sing if he hadn’t died. Sparing one minute for Jung Hoseok wouldn’t make the ground to open in half underneath you.

“Go on, I’m listening,” you said, choosing casual tone of absolute unbotherness.

Hoseok took a deep breath, before he started speaking. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened two weeks ago. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. As you know, I’m new here and you can argue or not but people sometimes deserve second chances,” he remarked, observing your reaction. You should stop rolling your eyes at everything that came off his mouth. “So, I thought we can go for, uhm, a coffee maybe? Tomorrow, after our classes.”

You raised your eyebrows, gawking at him.

“It's all on me. As an apology.” Hoseok added sheepishly.

A coffee? With Jung Hoseok? A hip-hop dancer who didn’t know what barre was? You opened your mouth to snap “am I joke to you?” but you stopped eventually.

To be fair, you had nothing to lose. He wanted to apologize after all, he was the first one to approach you and maybe that was how adults should act.

You looked at him once again, more intensely this time, trying to find any sort of fake politeness in his expression. But in his eyes there was nothing but genuineness. Maybe Jung Hoseok really just wanted to treat you in lieu of apology.

Finally, after a minute that seemed to last forever, you softened. “Fine.”

Hoseok's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Stop staring at me like that or I will change my mind.” you grumbled and he grinned at you boyishly, in the way he probably made people fall for him. Because with that kind of aura he emitted, it was hard not to. Thank God you could easily resist his charms.

“That's settled then. Wait for me after your practice in front of the locker rooms.” he said, while walking away backwards. “See you tomorrow, princess!”

When he disappeared behind the corner, you muttered to yourself, “See you too, asshole.”, adjusting the straps of your gym bag.

It was a good while after that day when you realised that some people really did deserve second chances.

And Jung Hoseok was one of those kind.

Your third meeting with Jung Hoseok was a date. Actually, it wasn’t a date at all. You called it ‘coffee for the peace’. United we stand, divided we fall, they said.

Or to paraphrase Fergie: little coffee never killed nobody.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the locker rooms, eyeing yourself with contorted look. Your hair was a mess, which you blamed the weather for. Even though mother nature stopped bombarding the city with rainfalls, the humidity was still there, lurking around the corners and waiting for the right moment to attack. You didn’t even know why you cared so much about your appearance. It was just a coffee, nothing more, nothing less, for God's sake.

With a sigh, you bent over to tie your shoes, and then you heard a voice coming from behind you. The same low, teasing tone that could only belong to–

“Didn't know you've been hiding this under your ballerina skirt all time,” Hoseok mused. “What a waste.”

You twirled around with a speed of light, facing him with slightly pinkish cheeks. It wasn't everyday that someone non-explicitly talked about your ass, especially someone like him. It wasn’t even on full display because you had your leggings on and you knew he was joking but still, your face felt hotter.

“What are doing here? You aren't supposed to be here, it's ladies locker room!” you hissed.

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been here forever, so I decided to check if you didn't slip on your point shoes and died.”

You raised your left eyebrow. “Very funny. Now give me a minute and we can go wherever you want.”

“Watch your words, princess, beacuse I might take your offer seriously.”

He couldn't see you but you rolled your eyes hearing him say this regardless. You took your bag from the porch and turned around to face him with a bored expression written all over your features.

“Don't act like you're doing this as a punishment. You won’t regret, I promise,” After climbing off the stairs, Hoseok opened the door and you embarked on a street. “This place isn't far away from here, just a ten minutes walk.” he explained, choosing a direction you didn’t know.

To distract yourself a little, you started to observe the neighborhood. It was less crowded here, the usual smell from cheap restaurants was less palpable now. You were walking down the street you weren’t familiar with, you hadn’t had a chance to explore it like that yet.

It was dead quiet between you despite the hustle of the city. You weren’t used to this kind of silence and even though you certainly weren’t a master of small-talks, at least you had to try loosen up the heavy atmosphere a little.

“So,” you trailed off, “You seem to know this part of the city pretty well.”

Hoseok hummed, taking another turn that seemed to be some kind of a cutoff. “My old dance school I used to go is here, in this area,” he said. “I moved to the boarding school in Seoul from Gwangju when I was sixteen beacuse I wanted to pursue dancing. My parents weren’t very fond of it, but I told them that high school I chose had a very promising programme for kids who wanted to be business majors in the future as they wanted me to be.”

“And did you do something with that? Business, I mean,” you asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Nah, not really.” He looked like he didn't want to elaborate on that more, so you didn’t press him further. “Enough storytime for now. We're here.”

There you stood in front of a simple coffee shop like many others. Blue Side, signboard said in swirly fonts and English spelling. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary place you could find in neighborhoods like this in every single city, but you knew places like this one sometimes had living souls inside, telling their own stories.

Blue Side indoors looked exactly like the name was saying: azure walls, paired with modern white chairs and tables, grayish cloths adoring them. Classy, tasteful decor, someone would say, but one thing seemed completely out of place: big, framed pictures of sunflowers, your favourite plants, hanging on the walls like on a blue sky.

There was something bizarre about it, they didn’t match the rest of the decoration at all but at the same time they seemed to fit perfectly. They were bringing strange kind of calmness and halcyon aura to the place, marked with cold tones but broken through the yellow warmth.

Hoseok lead you to the table by the window. There wasn’t a lot of people beside you here, so a young looking waitress with dyed pink hair approached you pretty quickly, handing menus. She grinned broadly at Hoseok, too courteous for your liking, and for a moment you wondered just how many coffees the waitress served him before. Probably a good amount, judging by the way he returned the smile.

You looked through the positions briefly, before deciding on a simple espresso. Hoseok didn’t even open his. Regular customer, you thought to yourself, flesh and bones.

Awkward silence fell between you again and this time Hoseok was the one to break it.

“It's weird seeing you without your ballerina outfit,” he said, startling you. “And your hair isn’t in a bun today,” He pointed at the top of his head, tracing invisible circles in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?’’

Hoseok’s smile was smug when he spoke. “Not at all. You look good like this. Not so dramatic.”

You huffed. “I'm not dramatic.”

“Says the person who almost kicked me and my kids out of the practice room, and called me hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

You opened your mouth to snap a witty response at him but the pink-haired waitress came to collect the orders. Maybe you were losing your mind but you could swear her lips weren't tainted in fuschia before.

“Just an espresso for me,” you said, sending the waitress a forced smile.

“Caramel frappuccino with–” Hoseok started, but the waitress interrupted him.

“With extra cream, got it.” she finished his sentence, clearly proud of herself.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress an urge to chuckle. Hoseok sent a polite smile to the girl and averted his gaze to you. The points of his ears were slightly flushed in red.

“So yeah,” he uttered, scartching the back of his neck. “Where were we?”

For a moment you thought about teasing him a little more, but eventually you resigned. He looked enough flustered right now and you’re not that devil as you had thought.

“We were talking about me looking dramatic with a bun and tutu on,” you prompted instead.

“You know that's not what I meant.”

You ignored him. “Anyway, you too don't look today like a hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

That was true, he didn’t remind you of the sweaty Hoseok in grey sweatpants you were seeing every Friday and Saturday on the halls of Just Dance after blasting Spotify Global Top 50 for a whole hour.

This Hoseok who was sitting in front of you was wearing ripped jeans and leather jacket paired with ankle boots you wouldn’t mind buying for yourself in a smaller size. Daredevil, that was a good word to describe him. Dangerous, daring, and maybe d–yeah, dumbass, your brain suggested.

Yet, one thing was still the same about him.

“What's with you and those t-shirts?’’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok snorted at that. ‘’I like the band, so I wear t-shirts with their name on. It's as simple as that, princess. But I don't expect you to understand since you probably don't know who Joy Division is.”

You placed your palm on your chest, more offended by his words that you would like to admit. ‘’Of course I know who Joy Division is. I'm ballerina, not stupid,” you scoffed. ‘’Love will tear us apart is their song, isn’t it? I’ve been through this edgy phase on Tumblr in 2015. I know what I’m taking about.”

Hoseok looked at you with raised eyebrows and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it amusement? Curiosity?

You didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the waitress was back with your orders. Again starstrucked by Hoseok. Again smiling sweetly like kpop female idols on music shows.

While she finally put your coffees on the table (she spent definitely too much time doing it) and walked away, you spoke once more.

“I don’t get it,” you said and Hoseok muttered “what?”, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never seen someone doing a choreography to Drake's song and be dressed like cliché rock band member the next day.”

Hoseok placed his cup down and looked at you with a smirk. “I have many faces you don't know about yet, princess.” he warned. Dangerous, daring, dumb–

“And when am I going to find out?” you countered.

“If you keep going for a coffee with me after our practices, I might reveal more of myself to you. As long as you are going to do the same in return.”

At that, you raised your eyebrows. Hoseok's eyes were challenging, asking you to pick up the dare and get to know him more and more, slice him layer after layer. Your subconscious was telling you there was so much more than meets the eye about Jung Hoseok than his annoying retorts and edgy t-shirts. And you were there to witness all of it.

“Fine,” you finally agreed, eyes narrowed. “We can hang out after classes. Sometimes.”

Hoseok grinned. “Great. Now, let's start getting to know each other!”

You're eyes widened comically. “Woah, slow down, boy. You know my name, know that I teach ballet and that I like espresso. What else should I tell you on our first dat–meeting?” you corrected yourself quickly. Date was a sacred word. Definitely not reserved for a man like Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, please. I also know it's better not to get on your nerves,” he pointed out. Smartass. “Tell me about how all of this happened. How did you become a ballerina.” he suggested.

You took a big sip of your coffee. “That's a quite long story,” you said languidly.

“I don't mind. We have time.”

You stared at him for a moment. He looked slightly out of picture, sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking a cup of the sweetest drink you could ever think of, while wearing clothes that made him look like he belonged to shady bars, where he could be surrounded by sleazy people sipping on their scotch whiskeys. There should have been a cigarette caught between his lips and fumes of smoke swirling around his features, but there was solace and the smell of caramel. Jung Hoseok, with a picture of sunflowers behind his back looked like no one you had ever met before.

And this kind of enigma that was this boy inflamed a strange curiosity in you.

So you picked up a dare.

“Well,” you began, “It all started when I was in kindergarten. You know how it is, when you are five years old and your parents want to divert their unfulfilled ambitions into you. You could say I was this type of kid, kinda. My mum was a ballerina when she was young, so was her mother, but when she got pregnant with me in very early stage of her relationship with dad, she had to stop her career and took care of me. Dad was constantly working, travelling here and there to gain as much money as he could for us,” you explained.

“Mum always told me that my grandparents weren’t quite fond of their relationship. Especially my mum's. You know, dad used to be some kind of a bad boy back then,” you chuckled, remembering the pictures mum showed you. Leather jackets, motorbikes and self made cigarettes. “Grandma constantly blamed him for ruining mum's dreams, for debauching her and then, I happened,” you paused to gulp a sip of your coffee and continued. “So yeah, my grandma never forgave dad. However, after years she had grown to tolerate him to the point she didn’t throttle him during Christmas.”

You smiled, thinking how your dad and grandma avoided any unnecessary conversations between them. It was all civil, good mornings and goodbyes spoke in casual tone, but the tension was so thick that any sudden impulse, like dad talking about old times after a few glasses of wine, could break everything they had built through years.

“It was actually my dad who took me to the ballet classes first. My mum never wanted me to follow her footsteps but dad somehow tried to, I don't know, redeem himself? He felt responsible for a long time and when I think about this now, he just wanted to make his daughter a next little ballerina so my grandma could be pleased.”

Suddenly Hoseok interrupted you. “But don't you think it's unfair your parents did that to you because your mum couldn’t, you know, continue her career anymore?” he asked and you were pleasantly surprised to see him intrigued by your little story.

You hummed, contemplating this for a second before you answered. “You’re right, maybe it is slightly unfair but I actually grown to love ballet while the years passed. And seeing my mum happily watching my performances is enough for me.” you said. Ballet was your whole life, it always had been, there was no point of denying it.

“What about your grandma then?”

“She died a few years ago. But I think she was proud of me. She never told me that verbally though. She was pretty bad at expressing feelings, but I know she was proud. I saw it in her eyes after my first big étude.”

It was in middle school, back when you were living in your hometown. Your group was performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker and you got one of the leading roles. You never forgot the look in your grandma's eyes when she approached you after the performance.

“And what now?” Hoseok asked and you looked up at him. “What are your plans for the next, few years?”

“Now, I still have a couple of years to double major from ballet dances and psychology. And what would come after, we will see. I have a big performance in January that will determine something really important for me. And as for the future-future, teaching kids ballet seems really nice.” You smiled lightly.

You didn’t like to talk about your big performance aloud, since you weren't quite sure of what future was going to bring. It determined if you would get into four-months-long international scholarship in Russia or not. Only one person could win this. And you were strong-willed to at least try. You dreamt about it your entire life. To finally dance on the stage of Bolszoy Theatre, maybe go on a whole tour around the world with their crew. But that was for now a matter of your own luck and abilities.

“Wow,” Hoseok mused. “You have this all planned out, princess.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a goal, not actual plans,” you grumbled sheepishly. “What about you? Are you really a hip-hop choreographer wanna be?’’ You giggled but stopped abruptly when you saw his expression seemed to have changed. Gone was cocky, grinning boy he was just minutes ago. Now in Hoseok's eyes was some kind of sadness and melancholy that wasn’t there before. It didn’t suit him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No plans. I’m just living the moment.” he said matter-of-factly, like he was trying to play it the most casually he could. It was strange behavior.

Maybe Hoseok was right. He did have a lot more hidden underneath the layers he put on everyday. He just didn’t want to show it. Not yet.

The atmosphere condensed between you. It was thick and heavy with strange tension. You tried to loosen up it a little. It was probably your personality trait your friend would directly connect with your zodiac sign. “So,” you chimed in, “for how long this waitress has been giving you heart eyes?”

Asking that was completely unplanned but you had to think about something quickly, offhand. Hoseok’s features brightened a little and you didn’t know if it was because the question was about the girl or because you were the one asking him it.

Ironically, you hoped for the latter.

“Chaeyoung, you mean?”

Oh, he knew her name. Interesting.

You tightened your grip around the cup unconsciously. “Is there any other waitress here who has a crush on you?”

Hoseok smirked after hearing your snarky remark but chose not to answer that. “Actually I’ve never had more explicit conversation with her, unless it was about the coffee. Maybe I should try, what do you think? She seems nice.” His eyes wandered for a moment to the place where the waitress stood, talking to a customer.

You smiled but there was no true politeness in this. Why though, that was something to think about on another occasion. “Yeah, you should. Totally.” you gritted through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, totally.” Hoseok agreed, nodding.

For a minute it was mute but then he glanced at your empty cups and a small smirk appeared on his face. “So, where are you taking me next?” he asked out of the blue.

You blinked. “What?”

“I treated you this week, your turn is next.”

‘’I’m not gonna buy you food, the fuck. You treated me as an apology! I don't-” You stopped your outburst when you saw him snickering at you. “Why the hell are you laughing?’’ you snapped. There was probably a blush on your cheeks and you cupped them briefly with your hands to cover it.

“Because I was kidding. You don't have to buy me anything, I can pay for myself. Relax, princess.” Hoseok grinned. He didn’t seem to be as uneasy as before, so you scoffed at him. “But honestly, where are we going next weekend?” he asked, entirely serious.

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” you challenged.

He just sent you his signature, cocky grin. “Am I that bad company?” he teased.

“Decent. You’re decent company, Hoseok.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don't be. That's just me trying to be civil.” you warned, pointing your index finger at him.

“Great, I’ll text you about it soon then, princess,” Hoseok announced simply, ignoring your surprised expression. He reached for the menu still lying on the table and opened it. “They serve good lemon tarts here, want some?” he proposed, going through the other positions briefly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still processing what he had said earlier. “You don't have my phone number.”

“I do, actually,” Hoseok mumbled and his lips twitched.

Your eyes narrowed into slits. ��How did you get my number?”

“Soyeon. I asked her and she gave me.” Hoseok answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

A shocked gasp left your lips. “Soyeon, the receptionist? You swooned her over to get my number? She's married!” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

Now it was Hoseok's turn to roll his eyes. “Not my fault she couldn't resist my smile and sweet words.”

You sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience.

“Well, what about those lemon tarts?”

You tossed your head back, groaning in frustration that was probably heard by every single person passing by the coffee shop on this September afternoon.

However, you missed the way Hoseok's lips stretched out in a warm, sincere smile.

You did end up having those lemon tarts that day.

You couldn’t explain why or how, but in some way coffee meetings after dance lessons on Saturdays were no more just them. They turned into late dinners on Fridays and random text messages when you were bored during your lectures, which most times were eventually escalalting to Hoseok sending you tiktoks and memes you had saw million times before yet you laughed at them anyway.

It was a start of promising friendship, someone could say. Unexpected, with not so smooth beginning but blossoming into something much more than simple hanging out in your free time. But none of you seemed to notice it, not yet.

Before you could even blink, summer was officially over and fall started to make her way into the weather. Warm cups of coffee started to feel more and more reasonable with each passing day and one time you found yourself holding one while visiting Hoseok at his work.

It was Wednesday, you didn’t have any classes at uni that day and he texted you if you could come to the address he had sent. And you did, ignoring the cold wind and forgetting about the warmth between your sheets you had to leave. Which had been surprising even for you; a sacrifice for someone like Jung Hoseok, but again, you weren’t categorizing it like that yet.

That’s how you found out about Hoseok's other job. He worked at the Suga's Record Shop, where, as he had described it: you could buy legendary pieces of music while listening to another million dollar hits. He’d said he took the position at Just Dance because the actual interest in buying vinyls unfortunately wasn't increasing, so the guy who owned the shop, Min Yoongi was his name, had decided to reduce Hoseok's salary.

The shop looked like pulled out straight from 80s movies, with tons of records of probably every single artist you could think of. There wasn’t anyone beside you inside, so Hoseok walked you around, picking up different albums, classics, as he had said and showing them to you. He kept talking about them with true admiration written on his features, babbling about how Joey Ramone and his band invented punk rock and you found yourself watching him with amusement glittering in your eyes.

Days, weeks passed and it was already October approaching, turning green parks into wide range of colors that could only be described as autumnal.

You kept discovering more and more similarities between you and Hoseok than you would like to admit. One of them being your laicsm when it came to manga and anime. The solidarity was made one Friday after practices, when you both agreed on not understanding the hype after seeing some poster hanging out randomly on the street.

Music taste however, was another cup of tea. It was something Hoseok took his pride in, that was why he kept sending you various tracks encouraging you to listen to some good stuff until one day, with raised eyebrows, he learnt how wrong his previous assumptions about you had been.

“Oh my God, my song!’’ you exclaimed, when The Neighbourhood’s Softcore started playing while you were sitting at the Blue Side. It looked like the pink-haired waitress was absent, so were the latest k-pop tracks she constantly played in the coffee shop.

“You know them?’’ Hoseok asked, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes.

You snorted at him. “Told you I had that edgy vibe in 2015 when everyone listened to Sweather Weather. The t-shirts are long gone but my love for Jesse Rutherford stays untouched.”

You started mouthing the lyrics but Hoseok interrupted you. “I thought you would be into some k-pop type of shit.”

He received a roll of your eyes in return. “Hey, don't disrespect k-pop like that! There are nice songs out there, people just choose the worse ones usually and complain how trashy they are.” you said, pointing your index finger accusingly at him.

Hoseok lifted his arms in defending pose. “Fine, fine, don’t cancel me. What about classical music then. Since you are dancing ballet and all,” he drawled.

“Do you want to know a secret?’’ You leaned over the table and whispered, earning a nod from Hoseok. “Most ballerinas know nothing about classical music unless they are pieces we use for our routines. Ask them about their favourite and the answers would probably be Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I'm most ballerinas.”

There was a moment of silence before you both erupted into laughter.

For people looking at you from the distance, laughing together until tears formed in your eyes, teasing and throwing playful snorts, you might have looked like you had known each other for years.

Something was ending, leaves were falling off the trees and sun hid behind the greish clouds but in the warm embrace of a small coffee shop two people found themselves in a hold of affection they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.

Because love sometimes comes into people’s lifes unannounced, tearing apart their souls and making them vulnerable for others’ healing touch.

It was late evening on Friday, when you were sitting at your favourite ramen place, bonding over food like it was the most natural thing to do, talk between next chews, bites and occasional slurps of Hoseok's mouth.

Miss Lee's ramen was cheap, not fatty and what was the most important – not popular among other residents of your neighborhood, so not many people decided to show up that evening as well. That became the reason why you had suggested meeting there with Hoseok after your lessons.

You were in the middle of playing 100 questions game, a new found way of getting to know each other better. It was completely Hoseok's idea because he seemed to be the most eager man to learn more about you that you had ever met in your entire history of dating which, sadly, wasn't impressive.

Last time someone asked you so many questions, you were doing personality tests on Buzzfeed.

Now it was your turn to ask something and after discovering that Hoseok poured milk before the cereal, liked green the most from all colors and was scared of needles (that's probably why he didn’t have any piercings, you thought to yourself) you decided you were really bad at this game.

But then, you recalled the interview you had recently watched with some k-pop group and after swallowing a generous amount of pasta, you aimed the target.

“What's your most prized possession?’’

Hoseok, however, answered without a second thought. “My drums.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at him in confusion. “Drums? Like the instrument?”

“No, like the cannisters.” he snorted sarcastically.

“So you can play?” you continued, ignoring his witty retort.

“Yes, I do. I started learning when I was a kid. My dad owned a music shop. He was renovating old instruments from time to time and that's how I was gifted drums on my 10th birthday. The same ones I have till this day.”

You hummed. “So you’re hip-hop dancer slash drummer? And what, you play in a rock band too?” you laughed but stopped right away when you saw his serious expression. You gasped. “Oh my God. You do play in a band! And you didn’t tell me sooner?!” you exclaimed loudly. Young couple sitting few seats from you sent you deathly glares. You mouthed “Sorry!” and directed your attention to Hoseok again.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “There wasn’t an opportunity before,” You shook your head in disbelief at that. “Told you I’ve got a lot more to reveal.” He smirked and fuck, you hoped the blush that covered your cheeks right now was from the spice noodles you had eaten.

So Jung Hoseok and his love for leather jackets and old bands wasn't unreasonable. You hated yourself for wanting to see him play, sweat covering his forehead and lips bitten in concentration. What a sight it could be. Truly mesmerizing.

You had to stop your brain from wandering through such dangerous territories.

“So,” you started after clearing your thoughts, “Are there any other hot musicians in your band?” you asked, regretting your choice of words as soon as they left your lips. You wanted to slap yourself mentally.

“Did you just call me hot?”

“In your dreams. Now tell me about your rock band,” you blurted out quickly and let out a shaky breath afterwards. That was very much close to a catastrophe.

Yet you didn’t miss the way Hoseok's lips lifted up in amusement, trying to hide the laughter blossoming in his throat. “We are actually a punk rock band. There’s four of us. Namjoon, electric guitarist and the leader who sticks us all together since 2016. Jimin, in charge of vocals and bass guitar, and the youngest member, Jungkook, vocalist and bass guitar player as well.”

“How did you all meet then?’’

You weren’t even hiding your curiosity at this point. You justified yourself by thinking it was your only chance to be as close to the real (punk) rock band member you would ever be.

“You probably won’t believe me, but we all met at the university. I was studying business for a year before I dropped out of it and that's how I met Namjoon, who’s been my roommate ever since,” Hoseok said. “I met Jungkook and Jimin through Namjoon. He introduced them to me saying they all took part in some underground concerts for amateurs and after that they started hanging out together. You might say it was a coincidence we all met like that but I don't believe it. I think we were meant to come across each other eventually, you know, to save punk rock together.” He laughed to himself after finishing his little story.

You smiled at him genuinely and there was no mockness in this, it was true sympathy and probably something else, not so easy to describe.

You imagined four boys, with head full of dreams and hearts filled with raw passion, doing something the world didn’t believe in, but they had enough faith in themselves to prove everyone wrong.

“So how’s the band called?” you asked.

“Punk’s Not Dead.” Hoseok responded, cheeks bright red with mortification.

“Punk’s Not Dead,” you mused to yourself. “Sounds nice. Clever, I would say.”

“It's actually a name of the movie. It was Namjoon who made it up. He's the smartest from our group. After all he isn’t studying law without a reason.”

Your eyebrows lifted in interest. “A future lawyer playing in a punk rock band? I thought nothing is gonna surprise me after hearing you, hip-hop choreographer wanna be, are also a drummer. What about the others? Doctors? Stripteasers?”

Hoseok chukled lightly. “No, none of that. Jungkook and Jimin both work together as mechanics,” he answered, reaching for his now empty ramen bowl. You gaped as his calloused fingers adored with rings curled around the item, moving it to the side. Hoseok had pretty hands, you noticed. Hands of musician.

Sudden idea popped up in your head. “So when am I gonna hear you playing live?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Soon actually.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, soon. We are having a gig next Saturday at Namjoon's brother bar. You should come.” Hoseok suggested.

What kind of hollywood movie plot it was, you didn’t know, but you found yourself enjoying the main female protagonist's role probably too much.

“Next Saturday,” you mumbled to yourself, counting days in your head. Right, it was the day your best friend was coming back from Los Angeles and you had to pick her up from the airport.

You bit your lip. Ah, fuck it.

“Fine. I’ll come,” you said. ‘’But can I bring my friend as a company?” you added and Hoseok smiled broadly.

“The more people, the better.”

It was a while after the concert when you learnt it wasn’t entirely a good idea but right now, with Jung Hoseok and his cocky grin he was flashing you, nothing else mattered.

Incheon International Airport was a place utterly unfamiliar to you.

Last time you had visted it, was when you had been in ripe age of ten, welcoming back your aunt Jia from her ‘life journey’ to Tibet.

Aunt Jia was an extraordinary lady, she had proved it announcing the whole family her departure to Tibet for a six months long ‘detox’, nearly giving your mother heart attack when she had talked about bonding through the nature and finding her inner peace in a temple among Tibetan monks.

But it was years ago, now aunt Jia was older and her interest in buddhism was way more sustainable, limited to buying different Buddha figurines in art decor shops.

So today, you were at the Incheon International Airport for the second time in your life, again welcoming, this time your best friend Hana from her almost two years long stay in United States.

You met three years ago, both freshly graduated from your high schools and starting a new, adult life in Seoul as roommates. You had become close friends pretty easily, sticking together through ups and downs of dealing with real life shit, as you used to call it.

Ballerina and soon to be actress, both too dramatic for this world but getting along just fine through a whole year, until one day Hana had announced over a bowl of cereal she had received an opportunity to go on an international scholarship in USA she had always dreamt about. A lifetime chance, one in a million, as she'd said. Learning acting from American professionalists, walking down the never ending sunshine streets of California. Something only outstanding people can experience.

That was how Hana had ended up in Los Angeles, the City of Stars and the world's factory of make-believe. Thousands of kilometers away from home. Today, she was going to step on her country's ground for the first time in two years since she had been gone and you were more than thrilled to see her again in person.

She hadn’t exactly told you why she was back, neither she had explained for how long or, what was the most important and disturbing: why this was happening all of a sudden. And something was telling you it was all too suspicious, a perfectly wrapped half-lie.

Hana said someone from her old friends from acting school had told her that the National Theater was preparing to do Victor Hugo's Les Misérables and suggested she should try her luck with castings, since she had played the main role while being abroad. It sounded convincing though, how wouldn’t, she was a good actress after all.

That was Hana’s version of events. How really was, you didn't know, not yet. But you were sure something about this whole situation was too strange to be true. And you were determined to find out exactly what.

It was late morning in Seoul, foggy and with definitely too much humidity in the air. You were standing in the arrivals hall holding a self-made sign, produced out of boredom and your true love for DIY Pinterest ideas. Besides your friend’s name, you had painted palm trees on it and added glitter that was still stuck to some parts of your bedroom floor. You probably looked ridiculous holding it in your hands but you didn’t care, shifting from left foot to right. Waiting.

When you were about to check the time, you saw people coming up in your direction with suitcases in their hands. And then, among a crowd of nameless passengers, you saw a familiar blonde pony-tail and black polka-dot suitcase that could only belong to one person.

You could feel the roll of your best friend's eyes before you actually saw it, Hana shaking her head and chuckling to herself because of the absurd sign you were holding.

When Hana was approximately ten meters from you, you cleared your throat and half-yelled in flat english, “There she is! My California girl!”

People around looked in your direction with both distaste and amusement but Hana only sighed, until breath was knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of your hug.

“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” you mumbled into the material of her grey coat.

“We talked and face timed each other practically everyday,” Hana grumbled but deep down, even if she didn’t say it, she missed you too.

“That's not the same!” you protested. “Lemme look at you properly,” You pulled away from the hug, putting your hands on Hana's shoulders and eyeing her carefully. She looked skinnier than three years ago when you had met but that was a question for another occasion. Her skin, gingerly touched by Californian sun, made her look like she had just come back from holidays abroad. “You're definitely too tanned for October,” you pointed out, earning a chuckle from her.

“Come on,” Hana said, tiredness clearly apparent in her voice. “Let's get away from here.”

Back in the Uber that was driving you to your place, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Unspoken questions were lying at the tip of your tongue and you wanted to let them out instantly but you knew better. No rush, one information at the time. So you started from the simplest one, or you just thought it was.

“Did you tell your parents you're back?” you asked and Hana visibly grimaced after hearing it. Of course she didn’t, there was no point of lying.

“Not yet.”

“When are you going to tell them then?”

There was a pause on the other side of the seat and followed by a heavy sigh, Hana responded. “They still think I’m in California because my scholarship physically ends in two months. I will visit them home as soon as I’ll settle down in Seoul again.”

Settle down? You furrowed your eyebrows. She was going to stay for good here?

“So what are your next plans?’’ you wondered aloud.

“Go to that try-out in the theatre next week, see if my stay in America was actually worth something,” Hana chuckled dryly, almost bitterly. “I was also thinking about finding some part time job so I could afford a place on my own once I get back to acting regularly in theatre. I don’t want to overuse your kindness.”

“You're not using–” you started to protest but Hana cut you off.

“I am practically throwing myself at you because I don't have a place to live. But don't worry, that's not for a long time.” She smiled lightly and you reciprocated the gesture. Hana then turned her head to the window, looking out of it for a while as you passed the streets. She murmured something about the weather that you didn’t hear well because your thoughts were somewhere else.

You tried to digest all the revelations your friend had just told you. It looked like Hana wasn’t planning on coming back to Los Angeles any time soon or she wasn't going to do it at all, but that wasn’t the most puzzling issue about the whole situation. It was strange because she’d never said anything about staying abroad for longer, not even once, until she met him. That happened to be some kind of an anchor for her, a reason why she had started questioning openly her further life choices. Had something happened that she changed her mind completely?

You caught in the corner of your eye the sight of Hana absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger and you decided it was now or never, you had to ask her or you will never be able to muster up the courage.

“What about Taehyung?” It seemed out of the blue, vocalized so suddenly but deep down it wasn’t. And Hana knew that. Her fingers ever so slightly tightened around the ring and then pulled away. “Does he know you’re staying?”

She didn't visibly flinched, didn’t scrunch her eyebrows or purse her lips, didn’t protest. Maybe it was because she had been taught how not to show any emotions, maybe it was because she didn’t want to show any emotions at all. Her face was blank when she spoke, eyes distant and thoughts probably far away from the small space of the car.

“Taehyung recently got a role in some new Netflix series. One of the main roles actually, so it's going to take him some time to finish recording.” she said, not answering the question and she was well aware of it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. Maybe the realization was too much to handle for her.

“So he seems to enjoy his stay in America,” you trailed off, watching as Hana smiled lightly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah," she nodded. “He is.”

And that was enough of an answer for you.

You had been watching Hana falling for Taehyung for solid two years since she had left grey streets of Seoul to drown in Californian paradise. They met in acting school and got the scholarship together. The most divine, the most talented students the school had. Somehow over the thousands of kilometers of homesickness they started dating. And you were happy, you couldn’t be more glad seeing your beat friend chasing her dreams with a person who cared about her by her side. But the news about engagement few months ago had come as a shock to you, although you had not said anything. Hana's smile when she had showed you the ring had been enough to convince you of her happiness.

Right now, sitting by her side and listening to her talking about it so emotionless, so blankly, you were sure that in every single Hollywood fantasy there was a crack.

“So, here we are.”

After opening the doors to your apartment there was a slight pause, before you spoke again. “I know it's nothing special but for that price and in location so close to my uni I couldn’t find anything better. It's small but–”

“Can you please stop rumbling for a second?” Hana interrupted you abruptly. She was literally standing in the door with the suitcase still in her hand because you didn't let her in any further. “I told you it's okay. You allowed me to stay here even though there's barely enough space here for one person.”

“But still, the bathroom is like the smallest I have ever seen... Oh, and there's a soy sauce stain on the wall in kitchen because I still haven’t figure out how to remove it and–”

The door banged loudly and you jumped from the sudden noise.

“What the fuck! You know how easily I get scared!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, calming your rapidly beating heart.

Hana shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your stupid complaining. Now, show me where will I sleep beacuse I feel like passing out any second now.” She placed her suitcase on the floor, taking off her coat and kicking off her boots.

When you were living together as roommates, Hana was the one who organized the chores and yelled at you after making a mess and not cleaning up. She had been doing it as a matter of habit even during her absence.

“Sleep, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, shrugging off your coat as well. “Technically there’s no second bed here but you’re going to sleep here,” you explained, pointing out at the small sofa that was standing in a place you called ‘living room' just because it was connected directly to the kitchen. Beside the sofa, it consisted of the lamp and a tiny glass table where usually was a mess of your belongings but right now it was all cleaned and polished.

Hana slumped down on the sofa, closing her eyes. “God, I missed that. There was some yelling kid on the plane and their parents couldn’t shut them up,” She sighed tiredly. “Now I can nap for the rest of the day. And night.”

You bit your lip, looking at her slumped body. Today was Saturday, the day of Hoseok's band concert you had been invited to and you still didn't prepare your outfit or, what was the most important, for the whole week you hadn’t messaged Hana about the fact that she was, in fact, invited too. You felt guilty asking your freshly out of twelve hours long flight friend to come with you but you had no choice.

“Hana,” you started and it already sounded pleading, not casual. She cracked one eye open. She knew when you had some buisness to her and it seemed like that now. “I know you’re tired, jet lagged and all but what would you say to a power six hours nap and going to a punk rock concert tonight with me?” you blurted out quickly.

Hana opened her eyes completely and now was looking at you dumbfounded expression on her face. “What?” she stammered out.

You moved to sit next to her on a sofa and took a deep breath. “So here's the thing. You know I work at the dance school now right?” you began and Hana nodded slowly. “I met a guy there. He teaches kids hip-hop. His name is Hoseok and he actually isn't only a dancer, he's also a drummer. And it might sound stupid but he plays in a band too,” you explained, avoiding her burning gaze you could feel on your skin. However, if you looked in her direction, you would see the soft smile adoring Hana's features. “We kinda started hanging out about a month ago and recently he invited me to his band's concert. And I really want to go but I thought you could accompany me cause I don't wanna be there alone all the time so, yeah.” you trailed off sheepishly.

There was a bit of silence and you were waiting for Hana to scold you but instead you received reaction you weren’t expecting at all.

“You’re dating some guy and you didn’t tell me?!” Hana bursted out. She had a mixture of disbelief and probably a little bit of betrayal written across her face.

You held your arms up in defending pose. “We aren’t dating!” you protested, scandalized someone could ever put words dating and Hoseok's name next to yours. “It's just some casual hanging out after work, just friends. Friends.” you repeated.

Hana rolled her eyes at that. She knew you better than you would like to admit but she decided not to tease you about it any further. “So, is he hot? He must be, he's a drummer after all and they are hot in theory,” She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging you with her elbow while you groaned in frustration.

“If that will make you happy, yes, he is good looking,” you sighed. There was a tiny bit of blush covering your cheeks. “But as I said, we’re just friends!” you emphasized the word again, looking at Hana intensely like you were trying to embed it in her brain so she wouldn't think something else.

“Will you go with me then? Please? I need emotional support.” you pouted. “Besides you owe me for letting you stay here.” you added and it might have been a little unfair move to maake but you didn’t care about that.

Hana sighed heavily, like she was really contemplating the decision even though she had made it a while ago, just to keep you in suspense for a little longer. She fought and urge to ask about said emotional support while Hoseok was only a friend and instead she nodded her head.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she said, lifting her index finger before you could crash her body in a hug. “But I need to take this nap first.”

You grinned at her. “Thank you, thank you,” you kept mumbling, cuddling her body tightly against her protests.

“Now lemme wash and sleep.” Hana grumbled in annoyed tone but you knew she wasn’t mad at you at all. Deep down, even after layers of well trained, measured actions she had a good heart.

“Punk’s not dead? What kind of name for a band is this?”

You were standing before the door to the bar, side by side, watching as different people, mainly young, were passing you and coming inside. Hana eyed the pink poster that said ‘Free entrance!’ with her arms crossed over chest.

“That's the name for the punk rock band.” you said with a glint of annoyance in your voice, not even sure why somehow affected by your friend's words. You liked the name, it wasn’t obvious and sounded catchy. For you at least.

Hana snorted. “I hope they are worth my jet lagged self that I’m sacrificing here for you.” she sighed, averting her gaze from the poster hanging on the window and pushing the door inside.

The bar, Dionysus, was Namjoon's brother’s property, as Hoseok had explained to you. They played their mini concerts here since they had met, actually gaining money from this because the owner was letting them take some part of the earnings from alcohol buying. Also, there was always a small box on the bar counter where people could throw their money inside if they wanted to support the group directly.

Inside, there was a respectable amount of people already standing before the stage where everything seemed to be set up, except for the actual band members that weren't present, apparently hiding at the ‘backstage’ until their main entrance. You spotted drums standing at the back of the stage and you suddenly felt not so sure of yourself.

“There's a whole stage here? Geez, they didn't come to play,” Hana wheezed to herself, taking in the surroundings. “Do you want to drink something first?” she whispered into your ear.

You glanced at your phone to check time before answering. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be by the stage when they start playing.”

Hana nudged your side. “Relax, I will push my way through those girls in leather skirts for you. Come on, let's warm up a little.”

You looked in the direction of the stage once again but eventually gave up, letting her drag you to the bar. Maybe the drink wasn’t a bad idea. You didn't quite know if you could survive the evening completely sober.

The tall, handsome looking bartender smiled at you cheekily when you sat with Hana by the bar.

“What can I get for the lovely ladies?” he asked, eyeing you both misheviously.

“What do you recommend?” Hana leaned her head on the hand, smiling at the man as well.

“I could make you my absolute speciality: Aphrodite’s nectar.” the bartender suggested.

“Go on, surprise us.” Hana said, earning a confident smirk from the man before he turned around to make your drinks. She rolled her eyes, pulling a few bills from her purse and throwing them to the self made money box with ‘Thank you for the support – Punk's not dead’ caption.

“I could pay for myself, you know,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for Hana to hear.

“Shh, don't say anything and let me support your friend with a generous tip before the actual show. Hope they’re worth it.” Upon her words, the bartender handed you your drinks with “Here you go.” followed by the cocky grin.

Hana frowned when she saw pinkish liqueur poured to the vodka-size glass. “Seriously? This is his speciality? Pink coloured vodka? Isn’t that supposed to be called sex on the beach?” she scoffed and drank the substance in one go, flinching after she swallowed. “I've had better.” she commented dryly.

You followed her actions, drinking up the alcohol as well. You coughed a few times before you asked, “Can we go now?” It sounded like a childlike pleading but you didn’t care.

Hana nodded after exhaling loudly and you both made your way to the stage, like she had said earlier – pushing through the crowd of other people. There were shouts of swears and insults thrown at you from every side but Hana didn’t give a fuck, practically dragging you by your hand while you were muttering quick apologies to every single girl in leather skirt.

When you reached very front of the stage, Hana grinned at you. “See? Told you we’ll be in first row. God, I haven’t been to punk concert for a very long time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You've been to a punk concert before?” you asked, confused with her words. Hana seemed to be taken aback by this question, like she just realised she had said something she hadn't indent to.

“Yeah. In high school. Like I said, long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you–” you started but immadietly stopped, when the lights went out followed by the oooh! from gathered people. “Oh my God it's happening,” you half-whispered, clutching Hana's hand.

“Youjust referred to The Office without watching it.”

“Shut up!” you muttered, ignoring Hana's giggle.

Next thing you knew, sharp lights shimmered and few, firsts accords of electric guitar resonated through the bar. You absentmindedly squeezed Hana's hand tighter. Then, more lights flashed, along with the thumbing sound of drums and the whole stage illuminated with bright, silver colors.

You didn't even realise you were holding your breath the entire time. You eventually got back to your senses when one of the boys started singing an unknown to you song, probably self-written by them. His hair was pink and you recognized him as Jimin, remembering the photo Hoseok had sent you where he had captioned everyone. Jimin was leaning towards the micstand lazily, like he was purposely doing it this way. His guitar was dropped on his back nonchalantly.

Next was Jungkook, the youngest in the group. His mop of black hair was nodding along to the rhythm of the music, his eyes and attention solemnly focused on his guitar. He didn’t wear any jacket and his muscles on ink-covered arms flexed with his every move.

On the other side of the stage stood Namjoon, the one who Hoseok lived with and referred as the leader of the group. He also had some tattoos on his forearms but not as many as Jungkook. He smiled lightly at the crowd when someone shouted his name, showing the tiniest of dimples on his cheeks.

And there it was the last member. Hoseok.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had seen him dancing a few times before in Just Dance, ever so passionate but this was different kind of passion. He was fierce, completely devoted to what he was playing, hitting the notes like his life depended on it. He didn’t had any tattoos adoring his skin and his ears weren’t pierced like his friends' but he had an exeptional energy in him, power that he emphasized with every move, every tap of his drumsticks. For you, he was the most divine of them all, the brightest spot on the stage. A born performer, flesh and bones.

The song was catchy, something quite similar to the ones Hoseok had sent you after many ‘pretty pleases' from you. Jimin and Jungkook's voices were blending together just fine and you found yourself bopping to the rhythm of the music until you felt Hana's hand on your shoulder. You turned around in her direction with a smile that quickly disappeared when you saw her expression. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Even in the dimmed lighting you could distingiush she was paler than before.

She leaned towards your ear and half-yelled, trying to outshot the crowd, “I need to get some fresh. I don't feel well.”

You looked at her with worriedly. “I'll go with you,” you declared but Hana stopped you.

“No, stay here,” she protested firmly. “Enjoy the show. I'll wait for you outside until it's over.”

“You sure?” you asked, earning a nodd from her along with a light smile that didn’t look much convincing but before you could say anything else, Hana was making her way through sweaty, bouncing bodies again. You watched anxiously as her blonde hair disappeared between the mass of nameless people and then, the song was over. You released a long breath and glanced at the stage.

Namjoon took the mic and tapped on it a few times. “Ehm, hi. We're Punk's not dead, as you know probably,” he chuckled lightly, making you smile, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest about Hana. “I'm Namjoon and I’m the leader of the group. I thought it could be nice if I introduce everyone before we start so... here we go. On the left, there's Jimin,” He pointed at the pink-haired man and audience, mainly female attendants, cheered loudly. Jimin smirked lopsidedly.

Namjoon continued, “Next there's Jungkook,” The youngest lifted his head and smiled boyishly in bunny-like manner, scrunching his nose in process. He looked familiar, you thought to yourself. Strange.

“And, our amazing drummer: Hoseok!” Namjoon presented and you screamed upon hearing Hoseok's name before you could realise what on Earth you were doing. Hoseok stood up from his seat and grinned broadly, waving to the crowd. Then, miraculously, his eyes landed on you and if that was even possible, his smile visible widened. You thanked whatever gods that existed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed.

“Thank you for coming here today. I hope you'll have a great time,” Namjoon said. “And now, we are going to play our new song called Cigarettes after sex*, written and self-composed by Jimin. Enjoy.” he finished, nodding to his friends.

The song was beautiful, it carried the lash of melancholy and sadness behind every single word that Jimin sang and he visibly felt it too, making it seem even more real by the sheer emotions of heartache written on his beautiful features.

They played a few more songs after that one, some of them were covers of the bands you were familiar with thanks to Hoseok and his signature t-shirts. Before you could blink an eye, it was over and Namjoon was thanking everyone one more time for coming and then they disappeared behind the black curtains after receiving a loud applause for their performance.

You stayed like that for a while, still basking in aftermath of everything that had just happened, humming to yourself some melody from one of the songs you had heard tonight. You turned your back to the stage, watching other people leaving the bar. Lost in your own world, you definitely didn’t hear footsteps behind you.

“Did you enjoy your time, princess?”

You jumped in your place, twirling to the direction of the voice you knew so damn well. Hoseok was smirking at you while crouching down on the stage. His friends were also there, behind him, packing their stuff.

When you calmed down your breathing enough, you shouted, “What the fuck, Hoseok?! I told you to not do things like that to me!”

He only chuckled in response, smiling cockily at the furious flush on your cheeks. “I asked you a question,” he reminded.

What was it? Ah, right, he asked about the concert. You pursued lips, crossing your arms over chest. You wanted to say it was showstopping, spectacular and all those adjectives Lady Gaga had used in that famous meme video of hers but you didn’t.

“It was decent.”

A smirk appeared on Hoseok's face. “Decent, huh? Wouldn't say so, after seeing you cheering so loudly in first row,” he teased. ‘’I'm flattered. I’ve never had such devoted fan of myself.”

He thought that pink blush which colored your cheeks was cute. Fuck, you were cute, trying to cover your embarrassment with an unamused expression.

“I cheered for your friends, you know? Not you.” you mocked but it was pointless, he was already standing up from his position, knowing what was the truth.

“Come on, let's go to the backstage,” He made quotation mark on the word backstage while saying it. You grimaced. “There’s nice after party setting up there,” he tried again, this time pouting slightly and you eventually gave up. You had promised you would come, after all. Hoseok grinned when you followed his footsteps, walking to the supply base at the back of the bar.

“Jungkookie!" Hoseok shouted before he twisted the knob, whirling around for a quick moment. Jungkook lifted his head up in Hoseok's direction. “Don't forget to close the door when you finish packing!”

The youngest member nodded, going back to his previous work.

Beside you and Hoseok's bandmates, inside the ‘backstage’ was the same handsome bartender from earlier, Namjoon's brother as you assumed, and a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair that stood next to Namjoon, leaning into his body. He had his arms wrapped around her, talking to his brother about something. She introduced herself as Minhee, Namjoon's girlfriend, extending her hand to you in friendly gesture when you approached them with Hoseok.

“Oh, we met before, by the bar. I’m Seokjin, the owner of this lovely place.” Namjoon's brother, Seokiin, said, shaking your hand.

“Hyung, you can't give it a miss, can you,” Namjoon grumbled behind his back but Seokjin ignored him. That wasn’t probably the first time he flexed about owning a bar, you thought to yourself.

“How did you like the concert, darling?” Seokjin asked you suddenly.

You rushed to reply. “Oh, it was really nice! I’ve never been to anything like that before but I enjoyed it very much.” you responded. Hoseok muttered something about you being a liar under his breath but you acted like you didn’t hear him. “I really liked the second song, the slow one.” you added, averting your gaze to Jimin who was sitting with his head bowed down in front of the vodka bottle.

Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Yah, did you hear that Jimin-ah? You’ve got a fan of your sad songs here!” he said, breaking into laughter but Namjoon stopped him by sending his brother a warning look. Jimin though barely even acknowledged his or your words, lifting his head up for a brief moment and eyeing your figure without any emotion on his face. Then he got back to the glass of alcohol again, pouring the substance into his mouth in one go.

“He broke up with his girlfriend like six months ago or something and still hasn’t quite move on,” Hoseok whispered into your ear. You let out an “Oh,”, sending one last apologetic smile to Jimin, even though he wasn’t looking at you at all.

Hoseok motioned you to sit by the table with others and you positioned yourself between Namjoon's girlfriend and Hoseok. The only absent person seemed to be Jungkook who was probably still fumbling with packing their stuff.

The conversation was oscillating around the concert. Hoseok mentioned that the audience had been much bigger than the last time and Namjoon kept babbling about some technical issue with his guitar that you couldn’t understand.

“Don't worry. I've been with him for three years and I still know shit about what he's talking about too," Minhee said to you, probably after seeing your clueless expression. You both bursted out into laughter.

You were supposed to ask her how had she and Namjoon had met but Seokjin interrupted you, walking in with a bottle of champagne.

“Where the hell is this kid Jungkook?” he grumbled. Hoseok quickly explained he was packing their stuff on stage when he last had seen him. Seokjin hummed and placed the bottle on the table. “And what about your blonde friend, darling?” he directed next question to you.

You froze in place.

Holy shit. You completely forgot about Hana.

You didn’t respond to Seokjin, so he assumed you hadn’t heard him and went back to opening the champagne bottle.

You pulled out your phone from the pursue and cried out in mortification after seeing the messages.

[22:11pm] Hana: I was at mcdonalds across the street lol im heading to the bar now

[22:11pm] Hana: come up for me please

[22:15pm] Hana: ???

10 minutes ago.

“Fuck!” you muttered under your breath, frantically typing a response.

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head. “I forgot to come up for my friend after the concert. She wasn’t feeling well so she left and stayed outside.” you hastily explained, already standing up from your seat, clutching your phone in hand. Hoseok followed after you.

You pushed the door open, although the sight you saw behind them wasn’t anything you could ever expected. The surprised words escaped Hoseok's and your mouth simultaneously.

“Hana?”

“Jungkook?”

They stood facing each other, looking like they were interrupted by you mid conversation, probably in too close proximity for people supposed to be strangers. Hana's astonished face leaned out from behind Jungkook's tall body in the direction of the voices. Slowly, like she didn’t expect to be caught this way. And that was weird, beacuse she looked like she didn’t want to be seen in Jungkook's presence by the others, like their close proximity was something that shouldn't have been acknowledged.

Jungkook turned around as well, however ever so recultanty. And then, when you saw his face clearly now, jet-black hair and inked arms, it all crashed you like a wave. That was why he seemed to look so familiar. You knew him, maybe not personally, but you knew who he was. The boy from Hana's photograph she had pinned to her cork board when you had been living together. A beach with crystal blue sea behid their backs, the same boy yet with less tattoos than now, carrying your friend on his back, both grinning to the camera like it had been the happiest moment of their lives. Until one day Hana was gone and so was the photograph.

You felt like you were interrupting something too intimate for you to step in with your shoes like that. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Hoseok helped you out instead. And you thanked him for that mentally because you weren’t sure of your mouth anymore.

“Looks like your friend is safe and sound.”

Hana snapped out of her previous shocked haze upon hearing his words and automatically composured herself. She took a few meassured steps away from Jungkook. Gone was the slight shock on her face, she was back to her calmed persona. “Yeah, I'm all good. I was about to text you I’m going home.” she said, her words directed to you. She then exchanged quick glances with Jungkook, glances that could look the simplest from other people’s perspective but not for you.

Hoseok though, fortunately, didn’t seem to feel something was apparently off here. It was for the better he thought like that. “So you won't stay to celebrate with us?” he asked Hana.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do

Hana shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from my flight so I will just wish you great time and go.”

“You sure? I can go with you too, if you want,” you suggested after containing yourself enough to finally vocalize some thoughts. But Hana only smiled at you. Forcefully, which didn’t miss your attention.

“It's okay. I want you to have fun. I already called a cab for myself anyway” she reassured.

Hoseok protested. “Someone could drive you home. I’m sure Jungkook wouldn't mind–”

“It's fine, really.” Hana said firmly and you knew by the clench of her fists she was slowly losing her patience. At the same time, Jungkook's eyes flickered ever so slightly after hearing his hyung's words and then went back to his previous unreadable stare.

Seeing Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, you took his wrist, hoping he would take the hint and not add anything more.

“I must really go now. Take care of Y/N and have fun.” Hana smiled politely, looking at Hoseok and he reciprocated the gesture. She didn’t really acknowledge Jungkook at all, even though he had somehow his gaze fixated on her the whole time. But Hana did that all pursposelly, so Hoseok couldn’t suspect anything. She wasn’t stupid after all. Well crafted actress knew how to act.

She came up to you, hugging you briefly. “We'll talk tomorrow.” she whispered into your ear because she knew that you couldn’t be fooled so easily, that you felt something was not right from the very beginning since she had announced her comeback from the States.

Hana waved one last time to you, exiting the bar. You could swear Jungkook's eyes lingered on her figure a little too long to be considered unbothered, until he turned around and went back to the stage. You prayed Hoseok wasn’t going to ask him what had he been talking about with Hana or why did he even decide to approach her like that.

“Come on. Let's go back. Jungkookie will close the door.” Hoseok said instead.

You listened, letting him take your wrist and walk to the supply base for the second time tonight. You wondered for a moment if Jungkook was going to chase after Hana, but you shook your mind from those thoughts. It wasn’t your life to make decisions and judge them.

A little while after you sat on your seat again, Jungkook came back as well and you somehow felt the rush of relief swimming through your whole body. He slumped down next to Jimin on the couch and said something to him you couldn't make out exactly, but pink-haired man laughed bitterly at that, filling his best friend's glass to the brim.

Next two hours you spent there passed like a blurr. You kept talking with Namjoon's girlfriend practically the whole time. You found out Minhee was studying medicine and she had met Namjoon through some discussion club she had joined in her freshman year. It had been attraction from the first disagreement, as she described it cheekily.

When Namjoon called for Minhee to talk about something on the side, you averted your attention to Hoseok who was sitting in front of his empty glass and scrolling through the phone, clearly discontent with you intentionally avoiding his attempts to tease you about something you had said, or avoiding him in general.

“Aren't you drinking anything?” you asked him with raised eyebrows.

Hoseok snorted. “Someone has to drive you home, princess.”

“Bullshit. I can take the cab.”

“Well then, I don’t feel like drinking anyway.”

You eyed him carefully and then it hit you. “Oh my God,” you blurted out, trying to stifle the giggles blubbering in your throat. “You are not drinking because you are a lightweight!” you accused, not even hiding your amusement now.

“That's not true,” Hoseok grumbled but his red ears gave him away. He was a bad liar.

You pushed his chest with your index finger. “Admit it!”

Hoseok looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine, I am. And what about it?”

You giggled. It was probably some champagne mixed with wine you had drank with Minhee speaking through you but you didn’t falter when you said, “Nothing at all. That's cute.”

Hoseok frowned. “Cute?”

“Yeah, cute. You're cute when you're flustered.”

Hoseok parted his lips in both disbelief and annoyance because relatively speaking, you took it out from his mouth. It was his remark, for God's sake, he was the one supposed to say things like that to you. He hadn't drunk even a drop except one, symbolic glass of champagne yet he wanted to argue with you about it like five years old child. Because if anything, you were prettier and yes, cuter than him, and he had a sudden urge to spell it out for you.

Yet he faltered for a moment after hearing abrupt glass crashing from the other corner of the room. You looked in that direction too, seeing half-conscious Jimin slumped down on the couch, Jungkook sitting next to him and saying things to him you didn’t hear. You could make out only “hyung” and “please, calm down” falling from younger's mouth.

Jimin seemed like he had no idea about what was going on around him. When he opened his eyes for a moment they were bloodshot and glassy, probably from too much alcohol he had drank before, or maybe even from something else entirely. Then he murmured something to Jungkook and black-haired boy sighed, standing up from his position and approaching Namjoon and Minhee furiously talking about something in the far corner of the room.

“Here we go again,” Hoseok breathed next to you and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing your attention on the scene in front of you.

“Hyung, please–”

“No, Jungkook. We can't do that again.”

“Please, I swear it's the last time. He won't let me take him home unless it's with her,” Jungkook pleaded. “It'll worsen anytime soon. I don't want to see him like this."

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I don't know that Jungkook?! Last time was supposed to be last. And now it's happening again. We can’t continue it like this,” he said, looking in Jimin's direction where Seokjin was trying now to convince him to let go of the half empty vodka bottle Jimin was clutching tightly to his chest.

“Hyung...”

“Stop arguing. I already texted her like 20 minutes ago when I heard he started talking about her again. She's on her way,” Minhee interrupted. “But this has to end. He–they can’t live like that.” she said and Jungkook breathed out heavily with relief, thanking her over and over.

Hoseok hummed next to you, making you jump slightly on your seat from the sudden sound so close in your proximity. “What's happening?” you asked him and he let out a long sigh.

“I don't think you want to see that. I should take you home.”

But before you could answer, someone banged loudly on the back door. Seokjin moved from his seat and opened them, letting inside a girl around your age, dressed in all black. Her hair was dyed in red and she didn’t have any make up on, assuming by the ungodly hour she might have been woken up or she hadn't gone to bed at all.

“Who’s that?” you whispered to Hoseok’s ear.

“That's Nari,” he answered simply, like her name was carrying all the needed information without giving into other details. “Jimin's ex girlfriend and probably the only source of light in his life.”

Nari moved automatically, like it definitely wasn’t the first time she was in similar situation. She crunched down on the floor in front of Jimin's slumped body and touched his thigh lightly, murmuring his name. Jimin's eyes snapped open at that and he blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him, like he couldn't actually believe she was there, with him, like his head was messing with him and betraying the bloodshot eyes.

“Nari,” he muttered and it sounded unsure, pained. “You're here. You came.”

“Yes, I’m here.” she replied with a soft smile, standing up to sit next to him on the couch.

Jimin's hands reached for her, cupping her face in his shaky palms, thumbs stroking rosy cheeks, checking if she was really here, flesh and blood. “You dyed your hair,” he said softly with croaked voice, putting a strand behind her ear. “You look beautiful.”

It all felt too intimate for you, like you were stepping into a scene you weren’t suppose to be in. You quickly averted your gaze somewhere else. In the corner of your eye you spotted Jungkook looking at what was happening in front of him with blank expression. He had seen it probably many times before, after all. Suddenly, strangled sobs echoed through the room and everyone involuntarily snapped their heads into direction of it.

Nari was hugging Jimin's shaking body, rocking him back and forth as he cried out words into the material of her jacket.

“Please, don't leave me.”

“I won't. I’m here. It's okay,” she kept murmuring to his ear until his breath slowed down enough so she could say, “Let's go home.”

She motioned for Jungkook and he obliged, helping her lift Jimin's limp body from the couch like he weighted nothing. They left without a word, just like that, and heavy silence fell in the room. No one was in right mood to continue celebrating, not after everything that they had just witnessed.

Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. “We will be going. It's been a long day.” he said, placing his hand on Minhee's waist.

“Indeed.” Seokjin agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs to my place too. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Hoseok also stood up from his seat, putting his palm on your shoulder. “Come on. It's time for us too.”

You nodded, rushing to bid everyone goodbyes.

Outside, in the middle of the night, where all the demons had left humans bodies making them vulnerable for the bracketing world, you took Hoseok's hand in yours. It was warm, despite the coldness of the air.

“What would you say if we took a walk by the river? I need to clear my mind.”

The puffs of air around your face when you spoke were telling you it was a bad idea, but Hoseok smiled in response.

“I’ll lead the way.”

Long walks by the river were meant for warm summer nights when sun set lately and rose in the very morning before you could blink an eye open. They were meant for the steamy nights, when people didn’t have to worry about the coldness, when they could wander under the starry sky with bare shoulders and heavy eyelids.

October absolutely wasn’t reasonable time for the walks in the middle of the night but this time he weather was kind, merciful. There was no sight of the frost and even though it wasn’t the most pleasant aura, even though hands had to be tucked deep in pockets of the jackets, everything could be bearable.

Maybe somehow, when you reached that point in your life, circumstances stopped being the most crucial, as long as you were with the right person.

Boulevards by the Han River were common spot for the citizens and tourists but not in this time of the year, not when fall was threatening everyone as a trailer of the winter. Colorful lights illuminating themselves on the surface of the water were always the same, no matter which part of the year it was; always mesmerizing, always spectacular even for the people seeing them every single day.

This night however, they seemed to shine not as bright as the stars.

“I feel bad for Jimin and this girl,” you said, breathing out the puffs of air in the process. It had been silent between you and Hoseok since you had left the disaster of a party until this very moment, when you finally gathered up enough courage and inhaled cold air to clear your mind and vocalize your thoughts. “Do you know why did they break up?” you asked Hoseok.

“I don't know the details, just overall,” he answered, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “The only person who knows the truth is probably Jungkook but he had never told us anything.”

You hummed, digging your fists into the pocket of your jacket deeper.

Hoseok continued after a while. “I didn’t lie when I said she was the only source of light for Jimin. Beside her and music, he has nothing to cling onto in his life. There's no Jimin without music. Always has been.”

The images from the previous hours shimmered behind your eyelids. Jimin onstage, feeling himself, singing like he wanted to burn his throat dry, playing the guitar like he wished his fingers grated on the strings. A fierce passion in his eyes, as if he wasn't doing it out of the habit; losing himself in the drumming rhythm because that was his only ability. Then you saw the energy slowly draining away from his body, you saw a broken man, vulnerable to the world he had never had any intention to care about, now caring about him.

You wondered about the others. Was music their one true love and burden?

“What about your friends then? Is music really that important for them too?”

Hoseok thought about an answer for a little while until he decided to respond. “Jungkook grew up with Jimin in the same hometown. Childhood friends, always sticking together through ups and downs, younger doing exactly the same after the older. Jimin always took care of Jungkook and now Jungkook is watching by Jimin.”

You let your mind wander for a moment to Hana. How did she meet Jungkook? There was no doubt they knew each other before she had become your roommate. Did she know Jimin too, if they were raised in the same town? Another couple of questions you were yet to ask but this could wait for now.

“The band and music it's their whole life. They aren't like Namjoon, level-headed with actual plans after he finishes his law studies. Music is just a hobby he's going to put off once he's out of uni.” Hoseok added and there was some sadness about the way he did it, like they were another words at the tip of his tongue he wouldn't dare to say aloud because when unspoken, they hurt less.

“And you?”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who am I talking to?” you sassed lightly. “How do you see yourself in three years from now?” you asked and Hoseok chuckled the same way he did when you questioned him about it a month ago in Blue Side. Bitterly.

You motioned for him to sit on one of the benches standing by the boulevards.

“Do you have everything planned for the next three years?” Hoseok countered instead of actually answering you. He waited for you to roll your eyes but you did the exact opposite.

“Well, my mum always tells me that it's good to set up your goals. Even though sometimes you might disappoint yourself when they turn out all wrong.”

Hoseok chuckled. “There's a ballerina speaking through you, princess. And motivational speaker, too.”

“Maybe, but that's not my point,” you fired back, twirling around on the bench so you could sit cross-legged in front of him. “So, Jung Hoseok, hip-hop choreographer wanna be and passionate drummer, will you tell me what are your plans for the future?” you asked again. When you saw him hesitate, you added, ‘”Come on, pretend it's like our 100 questions game. I asked you a question and you shall answer.”

Hoseok sighed heavily. “I think I told you once that I just live the moment,”

“But everyone has some dreams,” you complained. Go on, tell me something boy, are you happy in this modern world,” you sing-songed, breaking into loud laughter in the process that made him chuckle shortly.

Hoseok stared for a few seconds blankly into the calm surface of the river before him, watching as colorful lights changed from blue to green. Sadness blending into hope. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“Remember when I told you I had moved to Seoul to attend dance school there?” You nodded. “And how I told my parents I was going to study business really hard so they could allow me to learn dancing?” Another nod. “Well, my parents were never quite fond of my passions. First it was drums but they knew from the beginning I treated it more like a hobby than a future career, so they let me do it. Then dancing came. I found something I really wanted to pursue in my life and they, how to put this, never quite accepted my choice.” he said, looking at his hands folded on his lap.

You had never seen him more uneasy, the smiling Hoseok who teased you and and spoke about music with glint in his eyes was long gone and you didn't like this version of him at all.

“You know, I’ve got an older sister. She was-is the apple of my parents eyes. The better child, the best daughter they could ever imagine. She studied abroad, speaks English and Japanese, has a well paid job that makes her afford a nice apartment in Seoul on her own. They wanted me to be like her too, but I guess I never came up to their expectations.” The words he never willed to tell, slipped from his mouth just like that, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

There was a sadness coming from his voice and you found yourself wishing you could swipe it off his face because it didn’t suit him, because gone was Hoseok that made you laugh and played his drums like his life depended on it. Hoseok who conveyed his fierce passion for dancing to the kids he was teaching. All the layers he was putting on every day were slowly slipping off him.

And in that moment you thought how unfair this world was. Your parents gave you wings to fly, to make your dreams come true but his parents were trying to cut them off his whole life.

“I went to the university so I could finally please them, so they would say: ‘Hoseok-ah, we’re so proud of you!’ but I eventually realised it's not for me. That I can't live like this. I met Namjoon, then the rest of the boys. We made a team and I've never felt more free,” Hoseok confessed and for the first time this night, he looked you in the eyes honestly, deeply. “So if you asked me, what's my dream, I would say I just want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be the best. I just wish I was doing what I love the most, dancing and music.”

You opened your mouth to say something but he raised his hand, stopping you. “If you want to pity me, don’t. I don’t need this.” he said, but it was your turn to shake your head.

“No, I want to say something,” you firmly protested. You lifted your index finger up, pointing at the blackboard sky. There was determination in your voice, a need to convince this boy he was worth much more than he thought. “See those stars? There are literally millions of them on the sky, looking exactly the same from our perspective yet we all admire them. And I’ll tell you more. Every single one is different, special on its own terms,” you said, all the time beating the air with your hands. You ignored the way Hoseok stared at you with raised eyebrows and continued, “Now think about the sun. Yes, it is the biggest star, giant thing and the centre of our solar system but it’ll burn your eyes if you look at it for too long. Those significant stars won't do it and we all wish our dreams to come true while looking at them falling, not at the sun.”

A small smile appeared on Hoseok's face and you reciprocated that, sighing softly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don't have to be the greatest to be admired and respected. You are your own star.” you trailed off, almost whispering the last words like you were afraid of vocalizing them.

You were staring into each other eyes for a whole minute, before you got insecure and looked away with flushed cheeks. “I'm sorry. That was my probably still a little drunk self speaking, don’t mind me. Hana would say it is also my zodiac sign's personality trait.” You put your hands on your cheeks, finding them warm from embarrassment despite the coldness of the night.

If you glanced in Hoseok's direction, you would see him grinning broadly. Who was this girl, he had no idea. He just felt she was going to be someone special for him. His own green flashlight illuminating on the clear surface of the water.

“No, it's okay. I really appreciate that. Thank you.” he said, making you hesitantly turned to face him with raised eyebrows.

“You're welcome. I guess.”

“So,” Hoseok drawled, pointing his chin at you and then on the sky. “How do stars align tonight for Aquariuses?” he asked out of the blue. You thanked it was the middle of the night, so he couldn’t witness the way you furiously blushed.

“Why don't you look for yourself?” you whispered, staring up at the dark, starry sky.

But why would he look at the stars, if for him all of them hid in your eyes?

At some point, next weeks turned into a blurr while gloomy November was approaching, blending everything into grey reality. Life seemed to move on its own and it could be thought that things went back to normal again but deep down, behind set up facades, there was so much more left unspoken than revealed, lying bare and exposed on the table.

You balanced your life between classes at the university, ballet rehearsals after hours and doing your part time job on weekends. With the midterm exams getting closer and closer, you somehow still managed to find time to hang out with Hoseok.

It was weird for you, to spend so much of your free time drinking coffees at Blue Side, eating ramen after practices on Fridays or just listening to him babbling about some other hilarious story involving him and his friends as you walked together to the underground station, with your hand in his under the umbrella, referencing to Rihanna's song probably too many times than necessary.

And normally, looking at you from afar and up close, seeing the intimacy you shared in your stares and muffled laughters, someone could swear you were already dating, that this hanging out carried so much more meaning than you would like to admit. But for some reason, neither Hoseok nor you wanted to speak about this aloud, to give your relationship a label much more bigger than simple friendship.

People around you noticed, obviously, it was hard not to. Some of them teased, others decided not to bring up the subject for the sake of not starting a storm in a teacup.

And life went on like that, day by day, as fall was cleaning the world from the last remains of summer, behind blurry windows a new spring was blossoming for two people.

In the middle of November Hana moved out from your appartment after composing her life enough to afford a place on her own. She got a role in a theater, doing rehearsals every weekend and keeping her mind busy with work during weekdays, because she indeed had a lot to handle since she had come back. And certain raven-haired boy being present again in her life wasn't helping in this situation at all. If anything, his position in the equation made everything much more twisted and complicated.

While your friend was burried deep in her scripts and old blurrs of memories, you were equally engulfed with paper work for your exams. You would have been probably still staring at the same pages for the whole night, if you hadn’t received a message from no one other than Jung Hoseok himself.

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: get your ass up from the couch and go out with me today

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: theres some punk rock concert today organized on the campus of YOUR uni

[18:58pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: namjoon gave me his tickets since he cant go with his gf

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: actually im surprised you didn’t tell me anything about this concert. shame on you princess

There was a string of emojis after the last text and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you read go out with me, but you eventually composed yourself. Because after all this time, you thought it meant nothing. Simple hanging out, nothing more, nothing less.

[18:59pm] me: fyi i need to study

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: come on one free night wont make a big difference

When you weren’t responding for a while, leaving him on read, he typed:

[19:03pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: pretty pleaseee

But he didn’t know you were already in the bathroom, notes long forgotten on the couch.

“They were sooo bad!”

“Hey, don’t be mean. At least they tried!”

“Oh please, I’m not punk rock expert but I know this Paradise City cover sucked.”

You were walking out of the small campus venue for the concerts, laughing until your lungs burned and cheeks hurt from smiling. The concert didn’t last long, just a few covers and one self composed song, more was actually happening right when you decided to go, leaving the ongoing party behind your backs.

“But they organized free beer. I think I might forgive them,” you added, slurring your words a little and occasionally bumping into Hoseok in the process of trying to stay steady on your feet.

Drinking wasn’t probably the smartest idea you could think of after considering two facts. One: Hoseok hadn't drunk even a sip beacuse he was driving. Two: you had an awful habit of becoming too honest under the influence. And combining those two things was like sitting on a bomb and waiting for it to explode any minute.

You sat in Hoseok’s car with heavy exhale of relief. “Remind me to never drink that much again when I have to study the next day.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your head on the window.

“Noted.” Hoseok sat down as well, smirking to himself. He reached for the keys but your next words stopped him.

“Can we like, stay here for a while? In your car I mean.” you asked with hesitation in your voice and Hoseok's eyebrows rose high.

“Why?”

“Because it feels nice here. And maybe I don't wanna go back just yet.” The words slipped out from your mouth so casually that you didn’t even noticed the change in the atmosphere. To hell with consequences and aftermaths, to hell with becoming vulnerable when alcohol was swimming in your veins.

Hoseok smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. “Fine. But puke in here and I swear to God–”

“Geez, I hadn’t drink that much,” you snapped, opening your eyes. “Turn on some music, mister drummer. Hit me with that punk rock hits.”

Maybe you had drunk that much after all.

Hoseok chuckled to himself, opening his Spotify and connecting it to the car's radio. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do I look like an expert?” you retorted for the second time this night and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Just put it on shuffle and I’ll tell you what I like.”

He did as he was told and soon the heavy beats of something that said Stairway to Heaven lighted up on the screen in front of you. You scrunched your eyebrows. “Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell, what’s next? Freeway to Purgatory?”

There was a moment of silence before you erupted into laughter. “Fuck, that was funny. Admit it.” you said, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“I'm pretty sure someone had come up with this joke before.”

“God, you’re no fun. Only intellectuals can understand this type of humor and unfortunately, you aren’t one.”

Hoseok ignored your words, changing the song and this one you recognized more than well. “Leave it!” you blurted, causing him to smirk.

“Ah, right. I forgot you’re that original,” he said in mocking tone.

Your lips turned into a scoff. “Hey, don’t disrespect Arctic Monkeys’ AM album this way. That's a masterpiece of modern discography, better than your ‘classics’ sang by old dudes. Alex Turner is hot at least.” You pointed your index finger at him accusingly. When he was about to disagree, you added, “Besides, you have this on your playlist, so don't try to bullshit me right now. You like it as well.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat. “Okay. I wanna be yours it's a nice song. I admit it.”

“Yeah. It is,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a second, basking in the moment. “I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your mouth and your heartbeat immediately quickened in panic. Fuck, had you really said that out loud? The look of pure surprise mixed with amusement on Hoseok's face were telling you that you indeed revealed that you wanted to get dicked down while Arctic Monkeys played in the background. And of all people you knew, you had to do it in his presence.

Screw your drank thoughts and fantasies, screw stupid string of fate that always played games with you, even now.

You tried to compose yourself a little, acting completely nonchalant about what had just happened. You wore a disguise of unbotherness as best you could (which was pointless, your flushed cheeks and uneasy way you squirmed on your seat said it all for you).

You wished Hoseok didn’t react, that he somehow had misheard your drunken rumbling but it was all foolish hopes.

“Careful what you wish for, princess, because you might just get it.” he whispered and you could swear his voice was lower now, it carried husskiness that weren’t there before. It wasn’t a warning.

It was a threat.

You gulped, your face heating up instantly even more, if that was possible. Suddenly it was hard to breathe in a limited space of his car and you wanted to get out, to run away from him as fast as you could muster and hide, not standing face to face with him ever again.

But at the same time you couldn’t shake off the thought how good and right would it feel if you pressed your lips against his now, run your tongue through the seam of his mouth just to hear him groan in response, just to feel his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his fingers were digging marks on your hips.

You wanted him, oh, God how much you did, but you had to stop yourself before you made a big mistake.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy with unresolved tension, ready to snap in a minute if only someone made a wrong move. His words rang in your head and you wished you had never left your house that night in first place. Was he for real? Or had he said that only to make fun of you after?

You were too scared to look in his eyes but if you did, you would see in them the raw desire swimming in his dark orbs. And if you did, you would know just how sure of his words he actually was.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you regained your composure as best as you could and muttered, “I don't feel well. Can you drive me home now?” Your tone wasn’t probably much convincing, if anything it sounded weak and strangled, so you added to lighten up the mood, “You don't want me to puke in here, do you?” and forced out a chuckle.

Hoseok only nodded in response, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine. If he was disappointed, he hid it pretty well. After a few minutes of ride back to your home, there was mute between you, except for the music still playing from the radio. His words not even for a second left your head and you replayed them again and again just to make you more and more confused with each time you tried to understand the hidden motive behind them.

Hoseok was hard to read, you realised that since he had became strangely silent after you asked him about his plans for the future on your first coffee meeting at Blue Side. Now you knew why. He’d said he had a lot to reveal about himself yet, after all.

When you bid him short goodbye and finally reached the doors of your apartment, you crunched down on the ground after closing them and shut your eyes tightly. Somehow, tears started to ran down your face and you found yourself clutching your phone and dialing the only number you could think about in this moment.

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Hana's voice was hoarse, she had been woken up from her slumber without a doubt. “You know I go to sleep earlier than you,” There was a sniffle on the other line and she changed her tone immediately. “What's wrong, bub? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you tried to protest shakily but there was no point in denying when you sounded like that.

“What happened?” You heard Hana asking softly.

Another wave of tears jolted your body, smearing mascara all down your cheeks and when you calmed down enough to speak clearly, you mumbled, “I told Hoseok that I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

“Okay…? And how did he react?”

Another sob. “He said I should be careful what I wish for.”

There was a bit of silence before Hana sighed on the other side of the line. “That's not the end of the world. You’ve done worse things in your life.”

“But that's different this time.” you cried out hysterically.

Hana smiled to herself even though you couldn’t see her now. She knew why it was different. She was aware for a while now, but she needed you to say this out loud.

A loud cry echoed through the quiet apartment before you finally said what had been lying on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“It's different because I think I really like him.”

And fresh fall of tears streamed down your cheeks.

---

a/n: aaaah! it’s finally here! i was supposed to post this by the end of february but my laptop got broken and i got a new one yesterday so im sorry for the delay:( i hope you like it!

ps. second part is coming in two or weeks! love you, julia. xx

#hoseok smut #bts smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #hyungsmutsociety #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts scenario #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fic #my writing

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