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jemshopes · 1 year

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Make Me Understand || Sope

--DRABBLE (COMPLETE)

--9.4K WORDS

--SOPE/YOONSEOK

--ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, GRIEF, TOXIC FRIENDSHIP, FLUFF.

--READ ON AO3 AND TWITTER

-when hoseok is abandoned by his so-called friends on the side of the road, yoongi flies from seoul to paris and spends all night driving to reach him. he doesn't consider other options. he just goes. and that's terrifying to realise.

* * * Hoseok’s voice was pinched and breathy. That was the first thing Yoongi noticed when he answered the phone.

“Hey, it’s me,” Hoseok said.

“Hey, me.” Yoongi smiled, waiting for Hoseok’s usual heavy sigh. When it didn’t come, he said, “How’s the trip going?”

“It’s going fine,” Hoseok said, in such a tone that made it sound anything but fine. “What are you doing right now?”

“Working.”

“Where?”

Yoongi suppressed a nervous laugh. “Work. Where else?” He tried to keep his voice light, teasing, in the hopes of making Hoseok feel better about whatever was so clearly bothering him.

“Right,” Hoseok said distractedly. Then, like Yoongi’s words had been some kind of epiphany, “Right, obviously. Dumb question.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’m going to go. I just wanted to hear your voice. Bye, hyu—“

“No, no, don’t go. Talk to me,” Yoongi said. The last time he’d heard Hoseok sound like that was when they’d gone to the doctors and he’d been told he might have a tumor. It had turned out to be nothing in the end, but Hoseok had been all over the place in the week before they got the results back. Meals served at weird times, constantly twitchy, distracted. He’d paced erratically around their apartment, tugging at his hair and wearing his fingernails down to the quick.

“What about?” Hoseok said.

Yoongi allowed himself a steadying breath and reminded himself not to sound like a patronizing dick even though it came instinctively in situations like this—where it was obvious what he wanted to talk about and Hoseok knew it. “You sound off,” he said quietly.

Somewhere on Hoseok’s end a car engine rumbled and faded.

“I’m not off,” Hoseok said too quickly for it to be true. “I missed you. I wanted… I w-wanted to hear your voice. It’s nothing.”

“I miss you too,” Yoongi murmured, and got his first real giggle in return. Hoseok always got shy when Yoongi said that. Or when he said anything particularly coupley. “It doesn’t sound like nothing. Did something happen with the guys?”

“Don’t start that again,” Hoseok said with surprising vehemence. “Th-they’re nice people.”

Yoongi pursed his lips. Nice people. Right. Sure. Whatever you say. I’m sure it makes sense that nice people whisper behind your back and secretly double the shots in your drink to get you shitfaced.

He breathed deeply. No he didn’t want to start that argument again either.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to start anything. I didn’t mean it to sound like I was. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Hoseok said airily. “Everything’s fine.” It didn’t sound like he was trying to convince Yoongi, so much as he was trying to convince himself.

“You haven’t texted me an update in a couple of days,” Yoongi said. “What’s been going on?”

“I just told you it’s fine.”

“I meant what have you guys been doing? Tell me all the fun road trip stuff I’m missing out on.”

“Oh. Yeah, right. Right. Obviously.”

Yoongi couldn’t have cared less what Hoseok’s ‘friends’ had been doing, but feigned interest for Hoseok’s sake as Hoseok launched into a jumbled recount of the drive through the French countryside. They’d reached France a few days ago and stayed in a hotel. Hoseok had wanted to spend some time in Paris, or any place with civilization where he could better experience the food and the culture. He’d been practicing French for months before the trip, glowing with enthusiasm and anticipation. But they hadn’t ended up spending much time in the city because the others—Yoongi’s words, not Hoseok’s—were uncultured, inconsiderate assholes. None of them had bothered to learn any French so Hoseok had been their translator for every stupid thing they’d wanted to ask. Hoseok hadn’t said so, but if they hadn’t asked him to translate so they could flirt with a few French girls, Yoongi would be speechless.

It had been decided by majority vote on the second day (all five of them against Hoseok probably just because they felt like being difficult) that they would road-trip across the French countryside because ‘they’d seen enough of the city and they were bored now.’ A car had been rented and off they’d gone.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Hoseok said, like he knew exactly what Yoongi had been thinking. “It’s really pretty out here. I’d have preferred to stay in the city longer, but I don’t mind doing what they want. We stopped at a few nice towns.”

“Did you get a chance to look around them?” Yoongi asked.

“No. Not really. We just stopped for gas.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?” Yoongi asked. Usually, if Hoseok called while he was around the others, there was a chorus of immature noises, swear words, and weird things being yelled down the phone at Yoongi.

“What? No. I’m—we’re—No.”

“Are they all asleep or something then?” Yoongi joked.

“No,” Hoseok mumbled shiftily. “They’re driving.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re standing by a road.”

“I am,” Hoseok said, and suddenly his voice was thick. “Um, the car broke down, but we fixed it. Just a flat tire. They’re playing a joke on me now. It’s nothing. They just drove off down the road. They’ll be back.”

Yoongi’s heart sank with a nauseating thump. “What? They left you on the side of the road?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a joke. They did it to Do-Hyun-ah earlier and we went back and got him five minutes later. I mean, it’s been a bit longer than five minutes, but it’s fine. They’ll be back.”

Yoongi swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Be calm. “How long have you been there? What time is it?”

“Hardly any time, really.”

“How long?”

“Forty minutes. I tried calling, but they’re not picking up.” A panicked breath. “It’s fine.”

“Are you near a town?” Yoongi asked through gritted teeth. Now wasn’t the time to lecture Hoseok about his insistence of keeping in contact with wanker friends from high school. “Do you have your wallet?”

“There’s a town like ten miles away. I have my wallet.”

Ten miles. That was manageable. “Okay. Start walking. Do you have your passport?”

Hoseok sniffled. “No. It’s in my bag in the car. But they’ll be back. They wouldn’t just ditch me here.”

“Are you serious right now?” Irritation curled his words cruelly despite his efforts to stop it. If he was honest, he didn’t want to stop it. Any time they talked about Hoseok’s friends, it was like Yoongi had to fight tooth and nail not to grab Hoseok by the shoulders and shake common sense into him. “The first time I met them, Do-Hyun literally told a story about how they left him in Spain.”

“Y-yeah, but he had his passport, they wouldn’t—“

“What time is it there?” He couldn’t have this argument again. He could save it for when they saw each other.

“Five in the evening.”

“Is it cold?” Yoongi pressed.

“A bit.”

“If they don’t come back in the next twenty minutes, start walking towards the town. When you get there, report your passport stolen—missing, whatever.” If Hoseok tried to tell him it wasn’t stolen, he would lose it. “Find a hotel to stay the night in. I’m going to get on the next flight and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t worry, okay? We’ll get this sorted out. Hey, hey… it’s okay, come on…”

Hoseok only whimpered in reply, the soggy sounds of him trying to compose himself cutting out intermittently with each new roar of a passing car.

“You’re going to be okay,” Yoongi said firmly. “I’m gonna come get you. Keep me updated every half hour.”

He paused, unwilling to just hang up. “How much charge does your phone have?”

“About forty percent.”

“Okay. If it’s cold, the battery’s going to run down faster. So turn it off unless you’re using it.”

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“I love you. I’ll text when I’m on the plane.”

“Love you too,” Hoseok mumbled. “I’m going to start walking now, I think.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Yoongi breathed, smiling. “They can call if they come back and you’re not there.”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Bye.”

“See you soon.“

Yoongi hung up and gave himself five seconds to groan into his hands. A long, continuous stream of agitation that he let pour out of him, pour and pour and pour and yet by the time he was done the bottomless well inside of him was as unchanged as ever. Then he got up, asked Namjoon to cover for him, and left the office.

The next flight to France was in four hours, which gave him time to go to his and Hoseok’s apartment to pack. He would arrive in France in the early morning, rent a car, and meet up with Hoseok around midday if he drove without stopping. And he was going to drive without stopping.

It only occurred to him how ridiculous he was being once he was in a taxi to the airport. He couldn’t speak any French. Hoseok was the one with all the know-how about France. Hoseok was capable of helping himself far more than Yoongi was. He’d really just made a snap decision to go all the way to another country even though by the time he got there Hoseok would have gotten a hotel, called about his passport, and be completely fine.

The realization had him stifling laughter in both his palms. He had never done something this spontaneous in his life. It was like a movie. And he was shaking a little bit, but kind of in a good way because in less than a day he’s going to be in France with Hoseok. France. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. What the fuck had come over him? He was suffering from temporary insanity or something.

Hoseok texted twice before Yoongi got on the plane. First a simple ‘still walking’ then a ‘I think I’m going to try to hitchhike.’

Concern rose in Yoongi at that. Getting in a car with a stranger was bad enough when it was in your own country, but a foreign one? That had to be the beginning of like fifty true crime documentaries.

Be careful. Text me if anyone picks you up. With their full physical description, license plate and car model, he added mentally, but didn’t text because Hoseok was probably already stressed enough.

He’d be fine. Hoseok told him he would, then that he was turning off his phone again.

Getting through customs was an agonizing process, but at last he boarded the plane and they took off, excitement still buzzing in his veins. He didn’t try to sleep or distract himself. It was easier to just look out the window and let his mind wander. Mostly, he thought about Hoseok’s friends and what he’d like to do to them—not that he would ever punch them, he wasn’t a violent person, but jesus fucking christ did they test his patience. The amount of fights he’d had with Hoseok over them were too many to count. And they were always the same. Yoongi pointed out all the horrible things they did and said, Hoseok defended them like a wet blanket. Yoongi loved him. He did. But Hoseok was a pushover when it came to his friends. If you could even call them friends. It wasn’t like Hoseok even liked the things they did or acted the way they did. He wasn’t that sort of person, but he just put up with it and it was infuriating. Like he was still in high school whenever he was around them and was just desperate to hang out with the popular kids. Every time he came back from a day out with them, he was miserable. But he still did it. And Yoongi just couldn’t fathom why.

He almost couldn’t believe he’d been dating Hoseok for five years and he still didn’t know the reason. Or that they were still together what with how many times Yoongi had told Hoseok his friends were absolute bastards. Sometimes he wondered if Hoseok just put up with his harsh words in the same way he put up with theirs. Maybe Hoseok was just the sort of person to emotionally lay down in a puddle when you asked him to and let you walk over him so your feet didn’t get wet. Yoongi hated that about him, wished he would grow more of a backbone and stand up for himself once in awhile. Properly. Because he might defend his friends when they argued, but in the end he never did anything about it. They just went back to normal the next day. And despite all that, here Yoongi was on a plane to France for Hoseok.

He didn’t even really have the money he’d spent on his ticket, but he’d still spent it without a second thought. Because Hoseok needed him. And he was about to spend more money he didn’t have on renting a car. Then on gas. And food and whatever other expenses might arise before he came home. Hoseok hadn’t asked him to come out. He’d just done that.

It was terrifying and exhilarating to find a new length he’d go to for the person he loved most.

It felt like falling all over again. Breathless like the first time they’d held hands and his heart had pounded so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of chest. The long talks they’d shared over the phone while they were in different universities. The first time they’d kissed, then had sex right afterwards and spent five minutes giggling when they couldn’t get the condom packet open.

“This is killing the mood so bad.”

“Why won’t it open? Who the fuck designed this?”

“We should call the company and complain.”

Yoongi didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw the ground rising up to meet him. The plane touched down and he disembarked, still thinking about the first few months of his relationship with Hoseok.

It took half an hour and one very confusing conversation for him to rent a car. He converted all the cash he had into euros, got himself something to eat, and had two coffees. Then he began the drive.

Hoseok had texted him the location of the town about halfway through his journey, as well as the fact he’d gotten a lift from an old lady. That had eased some of Yoongi’s nerves about him hitchhiking. An old lady was hardly about to be a threat.

His mind wandered again as he left the city and drove into the countryside, trying his hardest not to speed. The last thing either of them needed was him causing an accident. Eight hours wasn’t too bad of a drive. He’d had to drive twelve whenever he went to visit Hoseok at university. Hoseok hadn’t learned to drive back then—hadn’t really had the money and would only have needed to drive to visit Yoongi—so it had always been Yoongi coming to him. It had upset Yoongi sometimes, when he’d been feeling particularly petty. Why couldn’t Hoseok learn? Yoongi would have paid for his lessons. He’d sometimes thought Hoseok wasn’t as invested as he was in their relationship, but here they were five years later and they loved each other as much as the day they’d first whispered those words.

Yoongi had almost come on the trip with Hoseok and his friends, even if it meant putting up with them for days. He’d wanted to see Hoseok’s reaction to the Eiffel Tower and the food and just the differences between Seoul and Paris. But he hadn’t because he’d known it would only end in him snapping at Hoseok’s friends for whatever wankerish thing they did that pushed him over the edge. He’d known Hoseok had been disappointed, the trip already tainted by the fact Yoongi wouldn’t be there, but fuck if he’d cared at the time. He’d almost been angry that Hoseok would suggest he go with them. Fuck, hadn’t it stuck in Hoseok’s head the million times they’d argued that Yoongi would rather pull his own eyes out than be around people who didn’t seem to have grown out of being frat boys?

He’d been introduced to them two years into their relationship (it would have been much sooner, but most of those two years took place over long-distance, so whenever they did see each other they’d spent all their time in Hoseok’s bed doing one thing or another.) It had been one of the most jarring experiences of his life, and for awhile he’d considered breaking up with Hoseok. What sort of person would be friends with people like that? People who would grow old yelling at their wives, drinking beer, and watching football. It didn’t sound like much when you phrased it like that, but that was the best way Yoongi could describe them. Because everyone he’d met like that was the same. Stupid, disrespectful, probably subtly sexist and definitely not the kind of people you could usually come out to.

The one bone he could throw to Hoseok’s friends was at least they didn’t treat Hoseok differently because he was gay, they just picked on him for other reasons. Like how much of a pussy he was for not drinking as much as them or not having had sex with as many people.

It had taken Yoongi several months to figure out what was really going on. Or at least, the way he’d rationalised his boyfriend being friends with people who were the polar opposite of him. It was an unhealthy relationship. And he knew Hoseok knew it, he just wouldn’t admit it. The harder Yoongi pushed, the more defensive Hoseok got. It made his head hurt and his heart hurt every time Hoseok shrunk from the truth. It made him want to bang his head against a wall. Why can’t you just let them go? Just let them go. All you have to do is not talk to them. It can’t be that hard. Just fucking let go. I love you so much, you don’t need them. I love you so much, you’ll have me if you let them go. You won’t be alone. What are you so afraid of?

None of that came out whenever they argued though. Just a lot of swearing. And tears. And then silence. And he knew saying ‘it can’t be that hard’ was stupid because obviously it was hard or Hoseok would have done it already. And calling Hoseok a pushover was mean, too, but it was just so fucking frustrating.

He’d resorted to reading books on how to communicate better this last year. Every conversation they had, he tried to be mindful of how he phrased things. The last few arguments hadn’t been so bad because of this. He knew he was a reactive mess and he struggled to comprehend people being illogical because he’d never had that problem. If he didn’t like someone, he said so. If someone said something out of line, he called them out. It was simple. It came naturally to him. He was just logical like that. Wasn’t he? He’d just hopped on a plane to a foreign country and was driving for eight hours because his boyfriend had called him crying. How was that logical? How was the fact he’d stayed with Hoseok for this long despite the glaring issue in any way logical?

Because he loved him and he’d always loved him. Any time Hoseok and he hung out without Hoseok’s friends it was perfect. Hoseok got on well with Yoongi’s friends. In fact, they were Hoseok’s friends now too. Everyone loved him. But everyone drew the line with his friends. It had been made clear years ago that no one liked them.

How did Hoseok feel about that? Yoongi didn’t know. He should know, Hoseok should be able to tell him anything. Yoongi wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hoseok, but every day felt more and more impossible when he thought of Hoseok’s friends being attached to their forever. He wasn’t going to have kids with someone who wouldn’t be able to teach them how to stand up for themselves.

Yoongi pulled over to the side of the road abruptly, stamping on the breaks. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder. He couldn’t breathe or see for tears.

God, what was he thinking? He couldn’t break up with Hoseok. Was that what he’d been thinking about just now? It felt like it. Hadn’t he thought of that every time they’d fought, and every time he’d ignored it because it wasn’t that big of a deal. Like, okay, Hoseok’s friends were rude to him or got him extra drunk or pulled stupid frat boy pranks, but… This time it was beyond a prank. And if Hoseok couldn’t see that then Yoongi didn’t know what he’d do. He couldn’t go on like this, even if he wanted to marry Hoseok and adopt kids and live the rest of his life with him. He couldn’t do that if Hoseok didn’t let them go.

He gripped the steering wheel, letting his head fall forward to rest against his knuckles. And he cried loudly, glad of the privacy that being in the middle of nowhere afforded him.

He was really going to break up with the love of his life.

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Hoseok, but at what point did someone become a lost cause? At what point did you have to start taking care of yourself instead of them? Three years ago would probably have been the right time. After their first big argument. Fuck this, if you want to hang out with them, then you can’t have me. If they had ever done to him any of the stuff they did to Hoseok, he wouldn’t have stayed. If Hoseok had tried to defend them doing that, he’d have been gone in a heartbeat. But enough was enough. He’d talk to Hoseok when he got to the hotel. If he left it any longer, he was sure he would chicken out. He just needed to say it all. Everything he’d never said. Even if it meant writing it down because he couldn’t verbalise it.

And then… well… he’d see where that left them. By tonight, maybe he would be single for the first time since university. Maybe he would be engaged. Maybe they would just be back to square one and nothing would have changed and they would continue like normal until they died.

Half an hour later, he felt composed enough to drive again, and slowly pulled back onto the road.

Twice he almost stopped. Five times, he changed his mind about talking to Hoseok. Kissing and hugging and hotel sex sounded way better than an emotional talk. But every time he thought that, he forced himself to come to his senses.

He pulled up in the hotel car park a little before lunchtime.

Hoseok had texted him that he’d left an extra room key with the man at the front desk. Yoongi had spent the last twenty minutes of his car ride playing and replaying the short recording Hoseok had sent him of how to ask for the key and explain he had a friend staying here. Still, he got it wrong and ended up just playing the recording out loud to the man at the desk. Whereupon the man handed him a key and shooed him away, probably because Yoongi looked like shit and was scaring off other people in the lobby.

Every muffled thump of his shoes on the carpeted stairs made the whole surreal situation just that little bit more concrete. When he reached the door, he didn’t move to open it. His legs felt brittle and unbalanced, the lack of sleep going to his head dizzyingly.

For awhile, he just stood there, staring blankly at the brass number ten nailed to the wood. The door was the last shield between them. Hoseok was probably eating lunch, thinking about how great it would be to have Yoongi in France with him. Anticipating his arrival. Hoseok would smile when he walked in, squeeze him so tight his ribs would feel like they were about to crack. Then he’d kiss him, long and hard. Then in little pecks while he talked excitedly. In that order. And Yoongi knew that because Hoseok was his everything.

He took a breath. Maybe it would be easier to just propose and deal with the friends forever.

Another breath, harsher now. No, that was stupid. He would just resent Hoseok more than he already resented him now. It wasn’t fair to resent him, but a part of Yoongi did. They wouldn’t be in this position if Hoseok could just let his shitty friends go. They could be happy. Properly happy. But this was always going to be in the way and Yoongi couldn’t face the rest of his life repeating the same argument. He couldn’t face seeing Hoseok let himself get hurt anymore.

He let himself into the room before he could second guess his thought process.

The lights were off and the curtains were closed, midday sun peaking through the small gaps in the thin fabric. A pair of socks, a jacket and a pair of jeans were folded neatly on the arm of a chair. Only Hoseok’s hair was visible beneath the rumpled duvet.

Yoongi closed the door behind him and stripped down to his shirt and boxers, all his resolve melting away.

Careful as he was, Hoseok groaned faintly when he slid beneath the duvet. He snuggled close, dropping a kiss on Hoseok’s forehead as Hoseok squinted at him through bleary, half asleep eyes. “Shh, go back to sleep, it’s just me. I’m here now.”

“You really came,” Hoseok whispered, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Mmhmm,” Yoongi said. He smoothed Hoseok’s hair back from his forehead. “Of course I did. I love you.”

Hoseok’s eyes slid shut, cheeks reddening. “Love you too. Right up to the moon and back.”

He rolled over slowly so Yoongi could curl around him, their hands intertwined on Hoseok’s stomach. Yoongi pressed a tiny kiss to the nape of his neck before settling down properly and letting sleep wrap around him.

Just as he was about to drop off, Hoseok mumbled something.

“Hmm?” Yoongi said, physically too tired to open his mouth.

“They didn’t come for me.”

Yoongi extracted his hand long enough to rub his eyes. Stay awake. Don’t say I told you so. Dick move. “Yeah.” “You came for me,” Hoseok said faintly.

“Yeah. I did.” He waited for Hoseok to say something else, but after five minutes, he felt Hoseok’s breathing even out.

It took even less time for Yoongi to fall asleep, promising himself he’d deal with everything when he woke up. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to have a calm conversation after travelling for over twelve hours.

They would talk tomorrow.

The first thing he became aware of was that he was the only one in the bed, but Hoseok’s side was still warm and smelled of calendula bodywash. He’d been there, right beside Yoongi, all night. Yesterday hadn’t been a complete fever dream.

“Hoseok-ah?”

The second thing was the shower running, a low hum and splash that made it very easy to fall back into his doze.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed his bag was open. Hoseok was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing some of the clothes he’d brought.

“Stop staring, perv,” he said, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

Yoongi sighed, content. He held out his hand, still too tired to speak, but needing Hoseok to come back to bed, needing him to understand without words how important it was they stick close together right now.

“In a minute. Did you know this place does room service? Isn’t that cool?”

It was cool, but Yoongi couldn’t muster the energy to nod.

He waved his hand in a whatever gesture when Hoseok asked if there was anything specific he wanted.

The light outside was disorienting. Almost the same as the light had been when he lay down. Had he slept for twenty-four hours? Or had he only been asleep a few minutes? He groped for his phone, but it was with his clothes on the floor. Hoseok’s lay on the bedside table, charging with Yoongi’s charger.

Hoseok crawled back into bed on his hands and knees, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss.

Yoongi did his best to accept it. Kissing was way more effort than he remembered, but Hoseok’s mouth was so warm and felt as heavenly as ever against his.

“Time?” he asked. “Day?”

“It’s almost two in the afternoon. You arrived yesterday. I can’t believe you slept this long. I was kind of worried.”

Another kiss. Hoseok slid his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, tucking it behind his ears. His cheeks were rosy, eyes alight and alert.

“Long drive,” Yoongi breathed.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Hoseok laughed, one of the happiest, most joyous sounds in the universe. And way too loud for how early it was. “This is so cool. It’s like in a film. Oh my god. You’re here.”

Yoongi would have snorted, but that felt like a lot of effort too. He smiled softly. “I’m amazing.”

“You are,” Hoseok agreed, kissing the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

“You too.��

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He was a horrible boyfriend, but the mood was too good to ruin.

“Yeah?” he murmured, accepting another kiss.

He breathed out slowly as they broke apart, relaxing beneath Hoseok’s warm body. They fitted together with no thought at all.

“Yeah, the best,” Hoseok giggled, peppering kisses across his face. He kissed Yoongi’s cheeks, his forehead, then, ever so lightly, his chin, before tilting his head up and capturing Yoongi’s mouth.

“No,” Yoongi groaned half-heartedly, catching the hand Hoseok was sliding down his side. “Too tired.” It felt wrong to do anything with Hoseok knowing they might not be together by tonight. “Can we just… lay here for awhile?”

“Okay,” Hoseok mumbled against his lips, “But I do seem to remember you saying sleepy morning hands stuff was your favourite. You don’t even have to move. I might reconsider giving head.”

Yoongi snorted. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

“Fine,” Hoseok sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “I guess you’ve grown immune to my charm.”

Yoongi gazed at Hoseok. Bare faced and puffy eyed from sleep, hair still damp, skin shining from the shower. “I don’t think I could ever be immune to it…”

A lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it. This was them at their best, but it wasn’t enough to put up with the stress of them at their worst.

He tugged on the front of Hoseok’s shirt. “Come on. Lay down properly. Spoon me.”

Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooo, why don’t I just show you my bare ankles while I’m at it? Break all the rules. Oh my, is that a calve? Nasty.”

Yoongi rolled onto his side, chuckling.

Hoseok flopped down behind him, so close Yoongi could feel him breathing.

“You smell of plane,” Hoseok remarked, carding his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi hummed in agreement.

“Shower after breakfast, okay?”

“‘Kay… But you’re not getting in with me.”

“I already had a shower.”

“Like that would stop you.”

When breakfast came, Hoseok made Yoongi stay in bed. He sat cross legged beside him, feeding him little bits of everything. Yoongi may or may not have eaten a snail, he wasn’t sure. Hoseok was so excited about explaining what the food was that he was speaking at hyper-speed. Everything he hadn’t been able to say around his friends poured out of him when he was with Yoongi. Often Yoongi had to ask him to slow down so he could understand what he was saying, but he didn’t bother today. It was enough to just see Hoseok so animated. Red with self consciousness, grinning from ear to ear, hands moving with his words.

When he stopped, Yoongi rubbed his back, feeling the jitter of his nerves. It took a few minutes for Hoseok to relax.

“You should eat something too,” he said, kissing Hoseok’s cheek softly. “I’m going to shower.”

“Can we go out afterwards?” Hoseok asked abruptly. “Like… around town. If you’re not too tired. I know yesterday was a lot. Like, really a lot.”

“I’ll see how I feel after I’m out of the shower,” Yoongi murmured, heart melting. He wanted nothing more than to walk until their feet hurt just to see Hoseok happy.

He spent much longer than usual in the shower, dreading getting out. They weren’t going to go round town. He wasn’t going to indulge Hoseok when it would make the inevitable crappy conversation all the more jarring for him.

“So?” Hoseok said, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist as he stepped out of the bathroom. “How are you feeling?“

Yoongi sucked his top lip into his mouth, breathing out through his nose. He put his hand on Hoseok’s arm gently.

Hoseok’s eyes clouded with confusion. “What’s that look for?” he asked softly, kissing Yoongi’s chin.

“Y-you know I love you, right?” Yoongi managed, blinking hard.

Hoseok frowned. “I love you too. What is it?”

“We need to talk. About your friends—wait, no, please just hear me out.”

Hoseok let go of him, turning on his heel. “I have told you again and again they’re my friends, you can’t do anything about that—Will you just LET IT GO?”

“No, I can’t fucking let it go,” Yoongi snapped, three years worth of anger hitting its boiling point, like it always did, before he could think to stop it. Not that he ever wanted to stop it because a mean, nasty, awful part of him craved taking it out on Hoseok because there was no one else to take it out on. “They treat you like shit. Look me in the eye and tell me they’ve even called you to explain ditching you in a—LET ME FINISH! HAVE THEY CALLED YOU?“

Hoseok whirled on him, seething. “NO, they haven’t fucking called me and that’s fine.”

“In what world is that fine? Can you imagine me ditching you in a foreign country without a passport? Would you still date me if I treated you like that? Well?” Furious tears streaked Yoongi’s cheeks. He was doing this all wrong, all over again, but his mouth was working too fast for him to stop, trying to get a word in edgewise before Hoseok could interrupt. “Jesus Christ, Hoseok-ah, they’re toxic. They’re disgusting and they don’t respect you. Why are you even friends with them?”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Hoseok mumbled, grabbing his jacket off the chair. His face was crumpled in concentration, tears glinting but not falling. “I’m not going to defend myself. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

He owed Yoongi the biggest fucking explanation on the planet, but as Yoongi watched him begin shoving his feet into his worn trainers, the angry words died in his throat.

“W-wait, I don’t want to argue,” he rasped, reaching for Hoseok in desperation. “Can’t we just talk?”

Hoseok shrugged him off, glaring. “Talk? I’m not going to sit and listen to you insult my friends. Or me. I don’t need to hear you judge my choices. I don’t have to explain my friendships to you so you can decide if the reasons are good enough for you.”

“I just want to know why you’re friends with them,” Yoongi whispered weakly.

“And I’ve said I don’t have to defend my choices!” Hoseok spat, lacing up his trainers with a sharp yank.

“I’m not asking you to defend anything. I want to know why you’re friends with them.”

“That’s the same thing,” Hoseok yelled, flinging his hands in the air. “Why are you even friends with them?” he mimicked Yoongi’s voice, etching quotation marks around the words. “That’s judging me. Insulting them.”

A string of broken little no’s tumbled from Yoongi’s lips as Hoseok started towards the door. “You don’t understand what I’m saying. I’ve been judging you all this time, but now I’m just asking. I want to understand. I just want to understand. I’m not asking why are you even friends with them. I’m asking why are YOU friends with them? What do you get out of it? What makes you like them? It’s like, if someone asked you why you loved me, you know? Does that make sense? I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m not judging you. I want to understand. Please help me understand. Don’t leave, I can’t do this anymore, if you walk out that door we’re over.” He clapped both hands over his mouth, stomach lurching, heart pounding. He hadn’t even meant to say it.

Hoseok stopped with his fingers on the door handle, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi with a face as pale as death, then as red and blotchy and uncomprehendingly confused as a baby’s in the moment where it looks like it can’t decide if it’s going to cry or laugh. His eyebrows drew down, head shaking just a fraction from side to side. His lips quivered, eyes searching Yoongi’s face, searching for the indication this was some sick joke.

It felt like neither of them were breathing.

Yoongi kept his hands pressed to his mouth.

It was too late to try and take the words back, but he knew he would do everything in his power to revoke them if he didn’t keep his hands where they were. But he had to say something. What he’d said wasn’t nearly enough to explain everything he’d kept bottled up.

Realisation dawned in Hoseok’s eyes slowly. Away went the tremor of a smile, leaving a ghastly look of terror in its wake. Hoseok’s chest heaved, a hand coming to his forehead, eyes squeezing tight shut like he was trying to block out the room. Again, he shook his head. Again, hair flopping from side to side, dreadful, gut wrenching noises ripping themselves from him. Dragged from some place deep within him, rocking his body.

“I love you,” Yoongi blurted, throat burning with the force of the words. “But I need us to sit down and have a proper conversation about this. I need to understand what’s going on because you’re always miserable when you’re with them, when you come back from being with them. I’ve seen them pick on you. I’ve seen them push you around. And I’m not trying to judge your choices, but I need to understand them because seeing you hurt kills me. Not being able to do anything about it kills me. I want you to be happy. But they’re making you unhappy. I am making you unhappy every time we fight. I don’t understand why you put yourself through that. And I need to understand. Because if I’m wrong and you just enjoy their company then you aren’t the person I think you are because they aren’t good people. And that would mean you’re not a good person if you truly think the things they do are acceptable. But I don’t think you’re like that because you’ve never treated me badly. I’ve never seen you treat anyone badly but yourself. So make me understand. Please.”

“They’re my friends,” Hoseok sobbed, shoulders hunching, teeth clacking together.

“But why are you friends with them?” Yoongi cried, pleading, desperate. He wanted to tear his hair out, shake Hoseok, break something, anything to get a reaction out of Hoseok that was different because if he had to hear that sentence one more time it would drive him insane. It was like one unending, internal scream inside him. “Tell me why you hang out with them. What appeals to you? Make me understand. MAKE ME UNDERSTAND PLEASE. I JUST WANT TO UNDER—“

“THEY WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO TREATED ME NORMALLY WHEN MY PARENTS DIED!” Hoseok screamed, so loud it hurt Yoongi’s ears. The noise was unhinged, spit and tears and a frightening, wild, animalistic howl of words and pain. “EVERYONE ELSE WALKED ON EGGSHELLS AROUND ME, BUT THEY DIDN’T AND THEY NEVER HAVE. IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW CRAP I FEEL ABOUT SOMETHING AND HOW MUCH OTHER PEOPLE CODDLE ME, THEY ALWAYS TREAT ME LIKE I’M NORMAL. I KNOW THEY’RE PIECES OF SHIT AND THEY MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SHIT, BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STOP. THEY REMIND ME OF THE WORST TIME IN MY LIFE AND HOW I GOT THROUGH IT BECAUSE THEY WERE THERE BEING ASSHOLES TO ME AND IT FELT GOOD. BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE WAS BEING SICKENINGLY NICE AND I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO MAKE A DEAD PARENTS JOKE AND CALL ME A NAME AND TREAT ME LIKE I WASN’T GOING TO FALL APART. I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID, I KNOW FRIENDS DON’T LEAVE FRIENDS IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES, THATS JUST INSANE. BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP. I… I don’t know how to stop…” He gasped for air, fingers raking through his hair. His whole body was shaking, feet taking him back and forth in the small space between the door and the table Yoongi stood on the other side of. “D-don’t go, I can’t—don’t go, you can’t go, you can’t. Hyung, don’t go. I can’t lose you too. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don—“

Yoongi rushed to him, engulfing him in a hug so fierce it made him cry out. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said roughly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Hoseok sobbed loudly into his shoulder. “But you thought it. I don’t understand. I feel sick.”

“It’s okay, just breathe,” Yoongi whispered. “Breathe. You’re panicking, feeling sick is normal. It’ll pass. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have kids with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?” Hoseok asked hoarsely, pushing away just enough to look up at him. Tears bead in his eyes, plopping onto his shirt. “Y-you want to have kids with me?”

Oh for god's sake, what was wrong with his mouth? He hadn’t meant to say that anymore than he’d meant to give Hoseok that ultimatum so harshly.

“Th-that’s not what we should be talking about right now,” Yoongi said, cheeks hot. “I don’t know if that’s even possible. I still don’t want to watch you let them hurt you all the time. I-I get why you do now, but I can’t…” He stared at their feet, chin wobbling. “It feels so shitty saying them or me, but I just don’t want to stand by anymore and watch. I don’t want our kids to see their dad let that happen to himself. What kind of message would that send to them?”

Hoseok hiccuped. “So I’m not good parent material?”

“You’d be an amazing dad,” Yoongi said, taking Hoseok’s face in his hands tenderly. “You’re so good with kids it makes me want to suggest getting our own every time I see you with them.”

“But?” Hoseok whispered, a large tear slipping down his cheek.

Yoongi swallowed thickly. “But I think you need to be able to set boundaries yourself before you can teach a kid how to do that. I-I have shit to work on too. I think my communication could really use some work.”

Hoseok sniffed. “You’re doing an okay job now. Sorry I’m not good enough.” He tried to wipe his eyes but Yoongi got there first.

“That’s not what I said. You’d be an amazing dad. You—we both have stuff to work on. I’m not ready to be a dad either.”

Hoseok smiled weakly, making Yoongi’s throat constrict.

“I’m really sorry I made you tell me like that,” he mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind Hoseok’s ear. “We never really… talk about your parents…”

He’d often wanted to ask about them, the people who would be, for all intents and purposes, his parents in law, but Hoseok always got so choked up when he tried to tell Yoongi things, so Yoongi had let it be. Hoseok had only really told him the basics. Happy childhood, car accident. Both parents dead before he’d graduated high school.

It been extremely hard for Hoseok to meet Yoongi’s parents. They’d waited a long time. He’d cried intermittently on the drive back home, mumbling about how lovely they were and how lucky Yoongi was. How lucky he, himself, was to have found Yoongi and by proxy found them.

It didn’t help that a lot of Hoseok’s memories of his parents were hazy and grew hazier as the years went by. He’d written out as many memories as he could when he’d realised he was beginning to forget things, but he’d never shown the writing to Yoongi. Yoongi had been afraid to ask incase he said no. Even more so incase he said yes. He’d never been sure he could handle seeing in detail what Hoseok had lost. He didn’t know how Hoseok had lived through it. Well… maybe he did now. As much as he hated Hoseok’s friends, they’d helped Hoseok stay sane, even if they were destroying him in the process.

“It’s just really hard,” Hoseok whimpered, lifting his hands uselessly and dropping them like dead weights.

Yoongi nodded, trying for all he was worth to show just with his eyes how much he understood and was paying attention to Hoseok and only Hoseok. He was all that mattered in this moment. The world had stopped turning just so it could listen to him.

“It makes no sense.”

“Doesn’t have to make sense,” Yoongi murmured. “But they’re hurting you.”

“I deserve to be hurt,” Hoseok whispered, bowing his head.

Yoongi lifted it again, shaking his head. “You deserve to be happy.” He wanted to demand to know why Hoseok would think that, but asking somehow didn’t feel right. He would let Hoseok explain what he could. He’d already opened up to Yoongi more in the last five minutes than he had in years.

“I should miss them more. Sometimes I go days without being sad now. Sometimes I don’t think about them.”

“You can’t spend your life miserable,” Yoongi said. “They wouldn’t want that.”

“It feels like I’m forgetting them. Like I don’t love them properly anymore. But having the guys around… it brings it back. It’s horrible, but I feel guilty if I’m not feeling horrible. It feels like I’m losing mum and dad all over again if I let them go.”

Yoongi drew Hoseok into a hug, burying his face in Hoseok’s shoulder. He let his fingers thread through Hoseok’s hair. After a moment, Hoseok lifted his arms and hugged back.

“Just because you don’t think about them every second of the day doesn’t mean you love them any less. It definitely doesn’t mean you should torture yourself. Your parents would want you to be happy, Hoseok-ah.”

Hoseok heaved a shuddering sob, fingers twisting into the back of his shirt. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“You’re going to have me,” Yoongi whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of Hoseok’s head. “And you’ll have Jiminie, Jungkookie, Tae, Seokjin-hyung, Namjoon-ah… You’ll have our kids, if we have them. Maybe our grandkids, if our kids don’t turn out to be incels or serial killers, or, you know, whatever the other reasons are people don’t have kids. Actually, quite a lot of serial killers have kids.”

Hoseok laughed wetly. “Why are you talking about our kids being serial killers?”

“To make you laugh. Wait, I forgot, you’re trying to be the most miserable person in the universe. I’m probably messing that plan up for you right now, aren’t I?”

Hoseok nodded into his shoulder. “Little bit, yeah.”

“Good,” Yoongi said. “I’m going to keep on doing that.”

He could feel Hoseok’s tears on his neck. His own were still dampening his face. He didn’t try to stop them.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me this,” Yoongi said quietly, his own chest hitching. “I love you. I don’t want to lose you either. I love you so much. Please let me help you.”

“How?” Hoseok asked.

“However you need me to,” Yoongi replied. “I’ll tell them never to come near you again. I’ll delete their numbers from your phone, block them from calling. We can even move to a different apartment if you don’t want them knowing where you live.”

Hoseok gave a half-hearted chuckle, pulling back. His eyes were red, lashes wet and stuck together. His skin looked sore. “Maybe not the moving apartment thing. That’s a bit much.”

“But the other things?” Yoongi asked tentatively.

Hoseok’s bottom lip trembled. “I think so. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to be unhappy because of me. I just…”

Yoongi nodded, prompting him silently to continue when he hesitated.

“I think I’ll really need your help with a lot of things.”

Yoongi smiled. “That’s what I'm here for. Apparently I’ll quite literally do anything for you.”

“There’s so many reasons I’m not ready to have children.”

“But you want children?”

Hoseok nodded emphatically, inching closer. “I want your children.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if you have stuff to work on,” Yoongi said, pressing their foreheads together. “You can work on it with me. And with a therapist, if you feel like it.”

“With you.”

“Okay.” He hadn’t expected Hoseok to want to go to a therapist so soon anyway.

The reality of the situation set in when Hoseok kissed him, fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. No more fighting, no more abject misery and discomfort etched into Hoseok’s face. The friends weren’t coming back. He would help Hoseok make sure of that. They could deal with everything else piece by piece. Maybe they would take trips together to make up for how terrible this one had been. Maybe they would come with their kids. Because they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

Hoseok’s mouth tasted like tears. The pressure of his hips against Yoongi’s was making Yoongi’s whole body flush. And there was something unexplainable about the way Hoseok had said not just “children” but “your children” that made Yoongi weak in the knees.

“Marry me,” Hoseok breathed, speaking into the kiss. “Marry me.”

Yoongi’s body went as still as a rock, lips pausing mid-kiss. He stared at Hoseok, frozen and speechless, trying to read Hoseok’s face as much as Hoseok was so clearly trying to read his.

Clumsily, Hoseok backed up a step, tugging at something on his right hand.

“These are my parents' wedding rings,” he said, voice cracking. He held two thin bands of gold up for Yoongi to see, glancing at the floor on either side of him. “Uhm…”

It was too much. Yoongi burst into tears. “A-are you sure?”

Hoseok looked at the rings, shoulders lifting in a shrug. He smiled softly, sadly as he picked up the bigger one. “This was my dad’s. If it doesn’t fit you, I’d prefer not to get it resized. I want to keep it as it’s always been, you know? But… I want you to have it. Just… put it in your jewellery box or something. If you lose it, I’m going to resent you forever, though, I hope you know that.”

Yoongi nodded breathlessly. “Of course. I’ll keep it safe. Always.”

He could hardly believe this was happening. “Are you sure?” he croaked again as Hoseok placed the ring in his palm, the metal warm and heavy. “I mean, it’s your dad’s, are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” Hoseok whimpered, eyes still fixed on the ring. “I want you to have it. I trust you and I love you. I know you’ll look after it. Now are you going to marry me or not?“

A hysterical laugh bubbled up Yoongi’s throat. “Yes. Yes, obviously. Yes. I love you. Yes. I love you. Yes. Yes. Ye—“

Their teeth knocked together, the kiss off centre and miscalculated in the midst of laughter and tears and trying to catch their breaths. Yoongi’s head was spinning, heart pumping violently. The ring felt like it burned into his skin where he held it, gripped as tightly as humanly possible. His head hurt. His eyes hurt from crying. His teeth hurt a little now too, but he couldn’t have cared less.

He kissed Hoseok’s nose, his cheeks, kissed away the tears clinging to his jawline until Hoseok was giggling foolishly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Can we lay down? I’m feeling a bit… wobbly.” Hoseok put his hands on Yoongi’s chest. He was still shaking.

“Yeah, of course… fiancé.”

Hoseok giggled harder.

He sat on the edge of the bed and Yoongi bent down to take off his shoes for him.

“Thank you, fiancé,” Hoseok said once he was done.

They lay down facing each other on top of the covers, tangling their legs.

“We can go into town later and get a chain for me to put this on,” Yoongi said, holding up the ring. “And so long as your dad’s ghost doesn’t haunt me then I’m never taking it off. So we have to make sure it’s not one of those chains that turns your skin green.”

Hoseok snorted softly and nodded. “No haunting. I think he’d like you. He…” he swallowed. “You remind me of him sometimes.”

“Mental incest. Nice.”

“Shut up,” Hoseok groaned. “Take this seriously.”

Yoongi inched closer. “I am taking this seriously. Do I remind you of your mum too?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Sometimes.” He wiped his eyes quickly.

“Do… you want to tell me why?”

Hoseok shook his head, mouth turning down as more tears came. “Not right now,” he choked. “Oh, god, who’s going to walk me down the aisle?”

“Who said you’re the one walking down the aisle?” Yoongi teased, only it came out more like a whimper. “We can walk each other down.”

“What about your parents?”

“Okay, then they can walk us down, if you’re okay with it. We don’t need to decide anything now. The wedding could be years away. There’s no rush. We have a lot to talk about first.”

Hoseok nodded, relieved. “Yeah. You’re right. Shit. I can’t believe I just proposed. In France. After you flew out to meet me.”

“Best engagement story ever,” Yoongi said. “Seokjin-hyung isn’t going to believe us.” Hoseok’s face fell. “I… I know I haven’t made the best impression with him. And all your friends really. Because of my… ex-friends…”

Yoongi smiled. Ex-friends had never sounded like a more positive word. “You don’t have to worry about it. They all love you. And they’ll be so happy for you. And they will all expect to be best men at our wedding.” He kissed Hoseok softly. “And they will not rest until we tell them they can be.”

They stayed in bed most of the day, cuddling and dozing and, mainly in Hoseok’s case, crying on and off. They talked a lot about Hoseok’s now ex-friends, wedding ideas kept popping up even though realistically they both knew there wouldn’t be a wedding for a good few years. Yoongi gave Hoseok a massage. They ordered more food. They watched a film. By the time night fell, Hoseok almost looked back to normal. A weight had lifted from him whether he wanted to admit it or not. And it seemed he did.

“I feel better,” he said quietly when Yoongi asked. “It’s a relief knowing I won’t have to see them anymore. That we won’t fight.”

“We’re going to fight,” Yoongi chuckled, kissing his neck. “Just not about them. Wedding fights, parenting fights…”

“You don’t have to be so technical about it.”

“Fights because I’m so technical about things.”

Hoseok sighed, grinning.

They went out for dinner, walking hand in hand through the streets. Yoongi let Hoseok order the food and this time actually took in Hoseok’s words when he talked about it. They ate, they drank, they found a cinema and sat through a French film with no subtitles, debating in whispers what the characters were talking about. Hoseok managed to translate a little here and there, and they fell about giggling whenever their predictions were right.

By the time they got back to the hotel, they had made plans to drive back to Paris tomorrow and stay there a few days. Heads cloudy with wine, they undressed each other and fell into bed. This time, Yoongi didn’t stop Hoseok when his hand slid down his body.

#sope au #sope fanfic #yoonseok au #yoongi x hoseok #bts fics #proposal #marriage #toxic friendship #bts fic #bts #bts drabble

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