Chapter Text
When Hoseok wakes up late that Saturday morning with a heavy heart, eyes irritated from an abundance of tears shed during a vivid and reminiscent dream of his life at its peak, he can tell that today is just going to be one of those days.
But of course it is — death anniversaries are often like that.
The sunlight that filters through the curtains and splays over his bed is warm and soothing in a way that somehow feels distant and nostalgic. He rolls onto his side, facing the empty side of the bed and lazily pulling his spare pillow down so he can hug it tightly to his chest. It’s soft and comfortable, something he can hide his face against for a little while and just… Pretend.
It’s a futile attempt to bring last night’s quickly-fading dream back to the forefront of his mind, to remember when he had the support of a lover, to feel again what it’s like to hold something – someone – in his arms.
Unfortunately, though, that’s the problem with just a pillow, an inanimate placeholder that keeps him tethered to reality.
There’s no heartbeat. No steady rise and fall of a small frame breathing while being tucked safely against his chest. No drowsy whispers and giggles to greet his morning.
Hoseok has survived nearly a decade alone now. It’s not scary anymore. He doesn’t wake up every day feeling sluggish, almost numb with the weight of loss on his shoulders. He doesn’t feel ready to crumble under the pressure of caring for a little girl who doesn’t understand why her father isn’t coming home.
The years have passed him by in a blur, time swept out from under his feet as he’s tried to adapt to life as a now-single parent to a sweet young girl he hadn’t even planned on having – not yet, at least. She had been a very loved, very pleasant surprise regardless, even if he and his late husband had been entirely unprepared to take care of a newborn.
But Minju, his precious baby girl — she’s been a lifeline.
Without her, Hoseok doesn’t know if he would have found the strength to keep going. He looks into her eyes, and he sees his sister. He has to argue with her playful sass, and he remembers doing the same with her other father when she was stumbling around on unsteady legs and laughing at them with all that she had.
Hoseok shoves the pillow away from him only when it starts to grow wet with fresh tears that he wants to deny had ever fallen; he sits up abruptly and covers his face with both hands, taking in a deep, shaky breath and letting it out again in a long, composed sigh. His fingers drift up higher then, combing through shaggy chestnut hair to gently knock any knots loose.
Moments of weakness now are always followed with muted frustration. Logically, Hoseok knows healing from grief isn’t linear, but it doesn’t stop him from being hard on himself for feeling its weight when he has more important things that need his full attention.
With another sigh, one that’s heavy and defeated, Hoseok decides it’s past time to get out of bed and pushes the covers aside, too. As much as he would like to lay there all day, he does have a kid to take care of; he can’t get lost in his own mind when his daughter needs him to be present.
When Hoseok comes out of his room, he takes a quick peek into the lounge to see Minju kneeling at the table and eating alone. It looks like she’s started her morning sufficiently without him — the curtains are pulled back, the sun warming up their tiny living space while its golden rays make it feel much brighter and more welcoming than its dingy reality.
Hoseok watches her for a moment, his expression nothing but pure adoration for his daughter. She’s grown so much since the day they had taken her home, a soft and beautiful young girl who continues to surprise him with her intelligence and remarkably kind heart.
He thinks Minju hasn’t noticed him yet, so Hoseok decides to slip into the bathroom and at least splash some cold water over his face in hopes of masking the puffiness around his eyes before joining her. But a simple step forward, one that’s just a little too heavy and makes the old floor cry out under his weight, has Minju noticing him before he can do so.
“Appa!” she chirps excitedly as she straightens up where she’s sitting. Her brilliant smile could soothe any storm raging in his mind. “I thought you were gonna sleep all day.”
Hoseok hums his acknowledgement, pretending as if he hadn't just been caught trying to sneak around by folding his arms across his chest and nonchalantly leaning his weight against the wall. He lets out a low chuckle, one that’s still rough from sleep.
“I would never,” he clips back, feigning offense; his voice is a low rasp. “I’m not going to let you miss your lessons.”
“Oh, good!” Minju slumps forward with what must be relief, and she drops her gaze to avoid her father’s, busying herself with her chopsticks by poking at the rice in her bowl. “We, um. We had something special planned today. For you, appa. I’d be sad if we had to miss it.”
“‘We?’” Hoseok repeats, one brow raising curiously. “As in both of you? Why?”
“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” his daughter huffs, cheeks puffing in an adorable pout that Hoseok so badly wants to pinch.
“Ah, where’d you get that sass from, Minju?” he teases, shaking his head as she giggles at his playful scolding. Hoseok finally makes his way into the living room to join her, sitting down at the opposite end of their small table. “Give your appa a hint, at least. What am I going to walk into this afternoon?”
“It’s nothing you won’t love,” Minju says simply.
Hoseok’s lips curve into a smile — a genuine one, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes; the sad dreams that had plagued his sleep are so far away now, but the suffocating weight of grief will linger for a while.
At least it’s much more bearable now, his heart feeling lighter, with Minju glowing and happy before him.
He finally murmurs his response, a gentle, “Mm, I’ll look forward to it, then.”
A comfortable silence falls over the pair, broken only by the faint tapping of Minju’s chopsticks as she continues to eat a little more slowly than before. Hoseok only observes without much thought, ignoring the way his stomach growls softly at the pungent smell of kimchi up close.
“You can eat, too, appa,” Minju finally says, her voice a little confused — timid, even.
“I’m not hungry, baby,” Hoseok lies with a gentle shake of his head. Skipping a meal to save on food won’t hurt him; it’s more important that she’s fed, anyway.
“Are you—”
“I was just thinking,” he interrupts, “that I don’t think I’ve heard you play in a long time.” It’s an effortless change of topic; Minju takes another bite before looking up at him with big, wondrous eyes as Hoseok adds, “I’d love to hear what you’ve been working on with Yoongi-ssi.”
The girl looks like she’s about to start vibrating with excitement. “Really?”
“Duh,” Hoseok says with a loose roll of his eyes. Her enthusiasm almost makes him feel guilty for not watching her play more often, but it won’t do him any good to dwell on such things — especially not when he’s been working hard to keep them afloat. In a slight shift from their playful behavior, he asks, “Did you finish your homework last night?”
Minju nods obediently, pushing her now-empty bowl aside and laying her chopsticks down. “Yes, appa.”
“In that case, what do you say we go out and have a little fun after your lesson today?”
“So, we couldn’t spend time together if I didn’t do my homework?” she huffs.
Leaning forward, Hoseok reaches across the table to tap her on the nose with a mischievous, sing-song hum of, “Exactly!”
It’s a lie, of course, but she doesn’t have to know that; or rather, he doesn’t have to tell her outright. Minju has probably picked up on her father’s behavior towards her by now: soft and doting, ready to spoil her endlessly and cherish every waking moment they have together when he can.
After all, too many things have been taken away from him already, and much too soon, at that. There’s a lingering regret he holds for the ones he’s lost, sometimes worrying that he hadn’t shown his love for them nearly enough before they faded from his life.
He won’t make that mistake again.
Not with Minju.
Not with anyone.
“Can we get hotteok, then?” Minju asks. “When we go out later?”
Hoseok hums for a moment as if he’s pretending to think over the question; then, he shrugs, his reply flat with cheeky sarcasm. “Only if you impress me today.”
“That’s too easy!” his daughter exclaims, quickly jumping up to her feet. His eyes follow her movements as she dances around the table to reach him, and then she’s dropping down in front of him and throwing herself into his arms. “You’ll love it, appa.”
“I know,” he chuckles.
Hoseok’s hand barely makes it to the top of her head to offer a few playful, reassuring pats before she’s pulling away and running towards her room.
Exasperated but always too soft when it comes to his daughter, Hoseok shouts half-heartedly after her: “Minju, your dishes!”
The security at the front gate recognizes them as frequenters of Min Yoongi’s flat, and Hoseok barely gets his usual, chipper greeting out before he’s presented with a temporary parking pass and urged to go on his way. He gets the feeling they don’t appreciate him much, despite his display of kindness every time.
Hoseok figures that, perhaps, they’re just looking down on him, as someone far from their level of wealth. This whole building can be like that.
Not Minju’s private piano instructor, though. Not Min Yoongi.
Visitor parking here is packed, as is typical for a warm and sunny Saturday afternoon. Hoseok is always careful to arrive early so they don’t miss any of Minju’s scheduled time; it’s much too expensive for that.
Minju skips alongside her father on the long walk from the car park to the front entrance of the complex, chattering on about some classmate from school she’s started talking to more frequently — a boy who also plays the piano and who has been studying longer than Minju; based on her stories, the kid seems to act rather snobbish if Hoseok were to be honest, but Minju doesn’t seem to be bothered.
There’s a second layer of security at the door, but Yoongi always buzzes them in so quickly that Hoseok wouldn’t be surprised if he was eagerly waiting around for them to arrive every time.
His daughter falls quiet by the time they’re both on the elevator ride up to the thirty-seventh floor, and Hoseok notices her fidgeting anxiously next to him. Her feet shuffle from side to side, and she picks at her fingernails without thinking, clearly zoned out.
“Don’t do that,” Hoseok scolds gently, placing his hand over hers to distract her.
The young girl grumbles, but she stops her nervous picking, instead opting to smack at his hand as if it’ll make him back off. Hoseok shifts his attention instead to the shimmery red ribbon holding her dark hair back, fussing over locks that aren’t even really out of place. It’s only a moment later that Minju is giggling, a quiet sound that settles between irritation and amusement at her father’s playful behavior.
Minju is escaping from the elevator as soon as the doors slide open just enough for her to fit through, running down the familiar hallway with her backpack slamming heavily against her back with each stride. He can hear her laughter bubbling louder and more excited as she nears the end of the hall; Yoongi’s flat is the last door on the left, and she seems more enthusiastic to see him today than usual.
It’s because of that surprise she mentioned earlier that morning, Hoseok figures.
Hoseok follows her down the hall at his own steady pace, watching her carefully. He hears the soft echo of her knocking twice before the door opens, and Yoongi’s voice is deep and welcoming when he greets her, something that Hoseok manages to barely pick up on even from a distance as if his mind is subconsciously listening for it.
Then, their voices drop into hushed whispers for a moment before Minju rushes inside.
Yoongi pokes his head out into the hallway, then, just as Hoseok has made it within a few steps of the door; he’s close enough to see the crease of Yoongi’s eyes as his smile grows wide, all gums and teeth and pure, kittenish enthusiasm.
“I heard you’ll be staying for today’s lesson,” Yoongi notes as he steps back, holding the door open to welcome Hoseok inside.
“I was told I have a surprise to look forward to,” Hoseok replies simply. He offers Yoongi a small but polite bow before he starts to nudge off his shoes, perking up slightly when he hears the soft, tentative tune of a piano starting to drift down the hallway.
“I told her she can go ahead and get her warm-ups taken care of first,” Yoongi explains as he shuts and locks the door behind them; the melody from the other room is repetitive, slow at first and then speeding up as she reacquaints herself with the instrument she hasn’t touched since Tuesday. “We can join her in a few minutes.”
“That’s perfect, actually,” Hoseok says, “because I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Yoongi blinks away his surprise, and Hoseok thinks he catches a hesitant, if not hopeful, stumble over his next words. “Oh? About what?”
“Minju’s, ah, journey,” he says quietly, “you know, in music.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to pull her from my lessons,” Yoongi says firmly, lips turning downward in a frown. “I’ve told you I can work with you on the cost.”
“No, it’s not that,” Hoseok says quickly — a half-truth, because Yoongi’s rates are hard for him to manage alone, alongside all the costs of raising an almost-teenager on such a pathetic salary. But while he can skip his own necessities here and there if he’s coming up short for the fees, there’s something else Minju needs that he just isn’t sure he’ll be able to afford all at once. “I really need her to be able to practice at home,” he goes on, “but the cost of a piano is, uh…very steep, I’m learning.”
Yoongi nods thoughtfully, humming his acknowledgement. Then, with a playful lilt to his tone, he says, “It’s not the cheapest instrument she could’ve chosen.”
“Yeah.” Sheepishly, Hoseok scratches at the back of his neck. “She’s been talking about being a pianist when she grows up. She wants to study music, and I…” His statement falls away, shame clawing up his chest where pride should be settling warm. “I just can’t give her what she needs to prepare for that.”
“She’s thinking about this quite early, hm?”
“Well, she likes it a lot,” Hoseok admits, and he decides to leave it at that.
After all, there’s no point in including the details about how much Minju talks about her teacher at home, too, right? How she praises him for being so patient and even for stepping outside of his curriculum for her. How she gushes about him exposing her a little bit to the guitar, too. How they don’t only focus on her studies when she’s there; they talk, and he counsels. Yoongi is more than just her private piano instructor — he’s her (second) biggest supporter, a role model whose company she adores and whose guidance she holds close.
“I’m not surprised. I can tell how passionate she is about this,” Yoongi tells him absently, lifting his hand up to take a quick look at the time on his watch. “Can we discuss this after her lesson, Hoseok-ssi? That surprise is waiting for you.”
“Actually, I heard that it’s also from you,” he casually mentions as he starts to follow Yoongi further into his flat, down the hall that leads towards the music room where he teaches his private lessons.
Yoongi’s laughter is breathy, humble. His hair, dark and partially pulled back into a bun, bounces as he shakes his head. “Oh — no, no. It was her idea. I just gave her the support she needed.”
Unsure quite how to reply to that, and perhaps lingering a little too heavily on the hint of flattery in Yoongi’s voice, Hoseok simply falls peacefully quiet; the door is wide open, with his daughter sitting proper on the bench while her fingers glide over the keys of Yoongi’s black grand piano — the centerpiece of the room.
“Minju-ssi,” Yoongi says softly to call her attention to them. He barely gives her time to stop playing and turn their way before he says, “Your warm-ups sounded great. We’ll review later, but for now — are you ready?”
The young girl nods enthusiastically, and without a moment of hesitation, she bends forward and starts rifling through her bag. Hoseok exchanges a glance with Yoongi, own curious uncertainty meeting unbridled pride.
Whatever it is, Yoongi seems confident he’ll appreciate it.
So does his daughter, for that matter, and Hoseok has no reason to doubt either of them.
“I’m actually kinda nervous now, seonsaeng-nim,” Minju murmurs after she adjusts the sheet music on the rack, looking up at him with furrowed brows.
Hoseok speaks before Yoongi can, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder and saying, “You know you don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready for it, Minju.”
“I’m ready,” she insists with a stubborn huff. “And I have to do this today. I’m just… I’m worried you won’t like it.”
“You’re my daughter. I like everything you do,” Hoseok gently assures her. And then he scoffs, giving her shoulder a playful nudge while allowing his tone to take on a whiny edge. “Besides, you spent all morning getting your appa’s hopes up. You can't back out now.”
Minju tries to smack his hand away, her expression an adorable pout with cheeks dusted an embarrassed pink. She looks cutely annoyed — and sounds it, too — when she mumbles, “Fine.”
“He’ll love it, Minju-ssi,” Yoongi reassures her, too. A warm smile graces his lips, one that Hoseok’s gaze accidentally drops to when he had intended to meet Yoongi’s eyes.
But if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t mention it, only nodding in approval at the extra encouragement when Hoseok adds, “I will.”
“Okay,” Minju murmurs, and then a moment later, with more finality, she repeats, “Okay.”
With a couple of steps back to give her some space to focus, Hoseok finds himself standing next to Yoongi. The pair exchange glances again, brief but amused.
The silence that blankets the room as Minju steels herself for her mini performance is tense, electric with anticipation. She takes in a deep breath through her nose and lets it out in a long, relaxed sigh from between parted lips. Her fingers find their home on the keys, back straightening just slightly.
Hoseok can’t help but feel endeared. She looks like a little professional, and for all of her excited chattering about studying music, he can certainly imagine her as a young adult in a space just like this — comfortable at the piano, beautiful in her confidence, playing songs that will either make her audience smile or move them to tears.
When the first notes ring out, Hoseok realizes that her gift to him today will likely have him doing the latter.
It’s a song he hasn’t fully listened to in years, but even if he’s been avoiding it, he’s been careful to make sure that Minju knows it — of its significance to him, to their family.
Because it’s the song that he and his late husband had danced to at their wedding.
Hearing it played on the piano again, this time by his daughter who has been working hard to hone her craft, is a thing of intense beauty. Its melody is sweet and nostalgic, wrapping tightly around his heart and squeezing until he’s breathless. It floods his senses with the warmth of a past love, and then it cuts through him like shards of ice, the same numbing pain of finding out he was going to go through life alone.
It brings up all the memories that he’s gently packed up in the back of his mind, where he’s tried to keep them so they don’t threaten to tear him apart. It makes him go rigid where he stands, his gaze going blurry as he’s pulled back into the past where everything felt safe and perfect.
Yoongi seems to catch on that the music impacts him a little harder than anticipated, and pride melts into something closer to concern. His brows furrow, lips curving just slightly downward. Yoongi reaches forward and places a warm, grounding hand atop Hoseok’s shoulder — and Hoseok flinches in surprise, at first, but he finds that he appreciates the silent show of support.
When the song nears its end, Hoseok shrugs Yoongi’s hand off his shoulder and quickly wipes away the tears that are in danger of falling any moment now. The last thing Minju needs is to see her father crying.
“Did you like it, appa?” she asks softly as the last note rings out.
“Yes, baby,” Hoseok breathes, but he’s clearly struggling with his voice. “It’s been…a really long time.”
“I like this song a lot,” Minju murmurs, turning to face him. “I wanted to learn it so I could play it for you today. Since it’s…”
Eight years on the dot that her father passed away.
Eight years since Hoseok was left with a toddler who had already lost her first set of parents at birth.
Eight years since Hoseok had to learn to do the best he could with the scraps that remained of an almost-perfect life.
Hoseok kneels in front of the bench, gathering his daughter into his arms for a tight hug. His next words are murmured against her hair. “I know. Thank you.”
And for a moment, Hoseok completely forgets that Yoongi is there, because the instructor is waiting quietly off to the side and allowing the pair to have their moment. And Hoseok forgets that he’s wasting Minju’s cherished hour of study time, holding her close to keep his face hidden as he still tries to ward off any lingering tears that still want to fall.
“It was beautiful,” Hoseok tells his daughter, another reassuring confirmation, and he pulls back slowly to meet her gaze when he feels strong enough to do so. “You’ve improved a lot since I last heard you play.”
“You’ll just have to start watching more often, appa.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in Yoongi-ssi’s way.”
Yoongi finally speaks up again now that he’s been mentioned. “Oh nonsense; we’d love to have you join us, Hoseok-ssi. That’s why we have seating in here, after all,” Yoongi points out, gesturing vaguely to the comfortable sofa against the far wall. “Or did you forget?”
When Hoseok had first found Yoongi to teach his daughter piano, he had sat in on the first several sessions; he had refused to leave her side. She had been eleven then, only just so, and at the time, he didn’t know Yoongi beyond the praise of the coworker who had recommended him.
As Minju grew older and more confident in herself, Yoongi had also grown to be someone whom Hoseok trusted: not quite a friend, but not just some instructor, either. Yoongi was someone Minju enjoyed being around, and the sentiment was also true vice versa.
It had been Yoongi who ensured him that he could step out to handle any errands while he taught, if need be. Hoseok had always been visibly distressed — anxious and exhausted; while Minju didn’t notice in her childlike wonder, Yoongi had caught on rather quickly and offered to help however he could.
From then, it had simply become a habit.
“I remember,” Hoseok finally says. “It’s just been a while. I figured you might be more comfortable without me watching.”
Yoongi makes a soft noise, something close to a scoff but not quite as disrespectful. “Don’t be silly, Hoseok-ssi. Parents stay all the time. Take a seat.”
And Hoseok is quick to obey, plopping down on the sofa without a word of protest.
The rest of her piano lesson under Yoongi’s guidance seems to go as expected; Hoseok hasn’t sat in on the sessions in months, and as a result, it’s been quite a while since he’s had the luxury of seeing his daughter thrive with her passion for piano.
Of course, in typical proud father fashion, he snaps a few photos of her while she’s deeply immersed in the music, careful to make sure that her teacher is out of frame in each one.
When the hour is up, Yoongi allows Minju to finish out her final task of the day before his soft voice rings out. “That’s time. But, Minju-ssi, would you like to play a little longer while I talk to your father? You can practice whatever you like. You know where to find the other sheet music.”
“I would love to, seonsaeng-nim!”
When they’ve stepped into the hallway just outside the room, Yoongi gently pulls the door until it’s left ajar. He glances up at Hoseok for a brief moment before waving his hand in a silent command, leading the brunet a few steps further down the hall so they can speak without Minju overhearing.
For that, Hoseok is thankful. He knows where this conversation is about to head, and the last thing he needs his daughter to know is that they just — they aren’t doing well.
Hoseok finds himself to be a little nervous, lost for words as Yoongi looks up at him with eyes that somehow look even darker, even more enticing. The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches up, and his gaze flickers towards the door to his music room when the tentative melody of a piano playing starts to fill the silence.
It’s then that Yoongi finds it fitting to speak.
With his head tipping just slightly to the side, Yoongi thoughtfully asks, “I know it’s not my business, but are you alright?”
This isn’t the question Hoseok expected to hear first, but he doesn’t let his surprise throw him off. “I’m fine.”
Hoseok’s gaze drops briefly to Yoongi’s lips when he purses them, as though he isn’t convinced by the answer. If Yoongi notices, he doesn’t call him out on it.
“You were saying earlier that you wanted Minju to be able to practice at home?”
Hoseok sucks in a breath, a little anxious. “Yes. I wanted to ask if you knew where I could find something, ah…affordable, for at home. Something secondhand, even.”
Yoongi presses his lips together. “I don’t know anyone selling their old equipment right now. Keyboards are more affordable, but it won’t really serve her well if she wants to study seriously.”
It’s probably not the best time to add that even a keyboard is a bit of a splurge that he isn’t sure they can afford right now. Even so, Hoseok’s nose scrunches up in confusion at Yoongi’s words.
Of course, Yoongi notices. “If you want my professional opinion, I think she’s a little too far in her studies to switch to a keyboard now. She can practice songs on one, of course, but there are other aspects she needs to work with on the piano.”
Hoseok frowns because he doesn’t fully understand, but he does trust Yoongi. “If I can’t get something for our home, could I get her an extra lesson every week?”
“Of course,” Yoongi says with a smile. “She’s one of my favorite students. Talented and meticulous. I’d be delighted to have her over more often.”
Hoseok can’t help but feel his heart swelling at the praise that isn’t even his. But it’s enough to know that the words are for his daughter.
“Let me grab my tablet,” Yoongi mumbles as he starts stepping away, “so I can check my schedule.”
“I’ll talk to Minju,” Hoseok offers.
He steps back into the music room where Minju is still stroking the keys — expertly, in Hoseok’s eyes, but that could also perhaps be because he has no experience in this area. He doesn’t recognize the song she’s playing, but it’s a fun and playful one.
“Minju,” he calls. “Yoongi-ssi and I were talking about setting you up for an extra weekly lesson.”
Her eyes glow at his words, and she shoots up from the piano bench with an exclamation of, “Really?” Her enthusiasm is abruptly cut short when she accidentally slams her knee into the piano with a loud thump.
“Careful!” Hoseok says quickly, and he barely notices Yoongi’s voice echoing the same sentiment as he rushes over to her side.
Minju only looks annoyed at Hoseok fussing over her — it’s nothing more than a bruise.
When Hoseok turns back to Yoongi, he finds the instructor watching them fondly. Their gazes meet, and Yoongi redirects his attention down to his tablet while clearing his throat.
“If we’re all on board with the extra lessons, then is there a time that works best? My early evenings on weekdays are pretty booked up, but if you’re comfortable with it, we can work with a later time — say, 8pm?”
“Yes!” Minju exclaims before Hoseok can say anything.
Hoseok fixes her with a skeptical stare, one eyebrow raised. “Won’t you be too tired by then? You get grouchy near bedtime.”
“Because I don’t need a bedtime,” she argues with a fierce pout.
“You do need a bedtime, because then you’ll try to stay up all night and will be miserable at school,” Hoseok chides, sending an exasperated glance Yoongi’s way.
Yoongi only smiles, perhaps a little too fondly. “We could just try it once and see if it works out. If it’s okay, then we can make it a recurring session.”
“Appa,” Minju whines, reaching for his arm and pulling on him with all her strength. “Please?”
Hoseok doesn’t really have to think about it, because of course he’ll do anything for her. But that doesn’t stop him from fixing her with a glare that doesn’t have any heat to it before he finally relents.
“Fine, let’s do that. But if you start to get an attitude with me because you’re tired after a late lesson with Yoongi-ssi, we’ll have to figure something else out.”
“I won’t, I won’t!”
Yoongi chuckles and glances up at Hoseok. “What day works for you, then? We could do Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Thursday,” Minju says — once again, before Hoseok can acknowledge the suggestion.
Yoongi, however, knows to look to her father before setting anything in stone on his schedule.
“Thursday is fine,” Hoseok affirms.
Yoongi hums his acknowledgement with the faintest upward curve to his lips, tapping at the screen a few times.
“Don’t worry about the payment this Thursday, Hoseok-ssi,” Yoongi casually says as he enters the information into his tablet. He doesn’t even look up when he adds, “You were just talking about how this may not be a productive session. We can consider it another trial lesson.”
“That’s really not necessary—” Hoseok begins, but he silences himself when Yoongi holds up a hand.
“I insist,” Yoongi tells him firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Especially if you’re trying to move toward a real future in music,” he adds with a fond glance at Minju, “then you should know that I would do everything I can to nurture my students’ talents.”
There’s a bit of a frown to Hoseok’s expression, his brows crinkled together and lips pressed into a thin line that turns downward. He doesn’t want to accept any handouts, but it’s clear by Yoongi’s demeanor that he also won’t allow Hoseok to refuse.
So he gives in, nodding slowly and sighing out his agreement; it’s for Minju, anyway. Pride will always have to take the back burner if it’s something that will help his daughter’s future.
“Thank you, Yoongi-ssi,” Hoseok mumbles – no disrespect, just defeat. He offers a bow, deeper this time, to the elder man before him as he adds, almost under his breath, “You have no idea what this means to us.”
“Thank you, seonseang-nim!”
“Anytime, kiddo.” Yoongi tucks his tablet under his arm, nodding at Minju before he looks up at Hoseok. His tone takes on a serious edge then, one that Hoseok has rarely heard, as he firmly adds, “That goes for you, too, Hoseok-ssi. Anytime.”
Cute, Hoseok thinks, like a fussy kitten. It almost makes Hoseok laugh, but this is a business transaction, really, and that would be inappropriate.
“Understood, Yoongi-ssi,” he says instead.
“Well, that’s settled,” Yoongi murmurs softly to himself, the words so quiet that Hoseok almost misses them. Then, he meets Hoseok’s gaze, speaking with more purpose. “And I’ll still be seeing you both this Tuesday, right?”
Minju wordlessly answers his question by nodding eagerly, and her enthusiasm is contagious. Both men are grinning, Yoongi’s attention drifting down to the young girl while Hoseok finds himself taking a moment to watch the fond expression Yoongi has directed at his daughter.
“As always,” Hoseok confirms, placing a playful hand atop his daughter’s head and giving her a few gentle pats as if to silently urge her to calm down. He finds that he’s unable to allow his gaze to drift away from the older man in front of him; there’s something about those dark eyes at that moment, soft and understanding, that keeps Hoseok hooked. “But we do need to get going now, though – I believe I promised someone a little father-daughter outing after a lesson well done today, hm?”
Sweet laughter bubbles up past Yoongi’s lips, low chuckles melting into fond words. “Well, our star student here made some incredible progress today. I’d say it’s well-earned.”
Minju perks up even more at Yoongi’s praise, and she grabs her father by the arm, nearly bouncing as she tries to pull him forward. “Thank you, seonsaeng-nim! Let’s go, appa! Seonsaeng-nim said I did incredible.”
“Gods, help me,” Hoseok mutters, but his tone is playful, and his eyes are shimmering with amusement as he shakes his head at Yoongi. “The last thing this girl needs right now is sugar.”
“You promised!”
Hoseok doesn’t even think before he argues back. “Well, I didn’t say I was taking it back!”
"I feel like I'm intruding," Yoongi jests, cutting in before the pair can start bickering. “It sounds like you have some fun plans, anyway. I’ll walk you both out. Don’t want to hold you up on your special day.”
Hoseok’s heart lurches at that, and he falls in step behind Minju as they make their way to the front door. Their special day; Yoongi doesn’t know that it’s the exact opposite, unless of course Minju had let it slip sometime during one of their sessions in which Hoseok hadn’t been present.
But Hoseok can’t really blame him for trying to be positive and friendly.
“Thank you again, seonsaeng-nim,” Minju says as she steps out into the hall once the door has been opened for her; she bows to Yoongi one last time, and Hoseok thinks he sees her eyes sparkle.
“Of course. I’m always happy to teach you, you know that.”
Minju always has far too much energy; she takes off running down the hall as soon as her good-byes have been said. Hoseok can’t help but chuckle and shake his head slowly. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since he’s been so lively, so carefree. He hates that he feels a little envious.
“She’s grown on you a lot, hasn’t she?” Hoseok asks as he steps out into the hall, too.
Yoongi’s quiet, fond observation hadn’t gone unnoticed.
It’s unlike Yoongi to avoid making eye-contact, but this time, he allows his gaze to drift off to the side as he answers with a cryptic, “You could say that.”
“Mm,” is all the acknowledgement Hoseok offers, and he glances over to watch Minju rush toward the elevators. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Hoseok says. “We’ll see you Tuesday.”
“I look forward to it, Hoseok-ssi.”
When Hoseok catches up with Minju at the elevators, where she’s impatiently waiting for him, he sends a quick glance back over his shoulder in Yoongi’s direction. He barely catches a glimpse of movement, followed by the soft sound of a door clicking shut — as if Yoongi had watched, had waited for them to safely reach the elevator before going back inside.
It’s not something he should feel particularly fuzzy about, but after Hoseok joins his daughter in the elevator, ruffling and now messing up the hair he had previously fussed over, he thinks about the adoration that might’ve been in Yoongi’s eyes while he had been watching them walk away.
And Hoseok smiles.