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It’s nearly six in the morning when Yoongi finishes his final paper for Modern Runes and Divination. He hasn’t slept in two days and the exhaustion is so heavy that, even in his bed underneath layers of blankets and a thick winter comforter, sleep evades him.
Normally Seokjin is around to coax him into functioning like a normal human being. He makes breakfast for the both of them and nags Yoongi to do his laundry when the dirty pile surpasses socially acceptable levels and gently pries Yoongi away from his laptop long enough to brush his teeth and put on sleep clothes; and if Yoongi’s laptop is nowhere to be seen when he returns, neither of them mention it. Seokjin’s a godsend of a roommate and Yoongi’s just glad they work so well together.
Seokjin had taken all of his finals the week before, however, and had left early to spend a few days with his girlfriend before the holidays, so Yoongi has been left to his own devices far longer than should be allowed. A headache had settled behind his eyes and at his temples somewhere around his third attempt at editing and revising, and only now Yoongi wishes he’d had enough foresight to take an ibuprofen for it earlier. Now all he can do is will sleep to come and take it away.
He wakes up warm and pleasantly cocooned in his sheets a good fourteen hours later. His stomach is making angry demands for nutrients, and while he knows food is necessary, it’s also mighty inconvenient.
The sky outside is a looming, heavy grey—nothing that Yoongi wants to venture out into—so he scrabbles over to his desk where he’d left his phone last night to place an order for pizza. He burrows himself back under the covers before the cove of body-heat completely dissipates and thumbs through his apps to find the one for ordering delivery. As he’s pulling it open, however, a notification catches his eye.
11 missed calls
Yoongi blinks and opens his recent call list. All eleven calls are from Hoseok.
Wondering what the hell could have Hoseok so excited as to call eleven times, Yoongi listens to the voicemails left by his younger friend.
“Hyung,” the first one wails, “you said you wouldn’t be late this time. I’m ordering all of your least favorite dishes if you take any longer.” There’s a hasty see you soon tacked on the end, and Yoongi is honestly confused. They hadn’t had plans today; it’s only Sunday and Yoongi’s not entirely sure what he could have been late for.
The second message is even more baffling. “I can’t believe you stood me up, you dick,” Hoseok whines, and Yoongi huffs and smiles a bit at the childish tone. He can hear a crowd of voices and the clack of an approaching train in the background. “The waitress wouldn’t leave me alone, and I drank so much free water that I’ll probably be peeing for days. You owe me a lifetime’s supply of backrubs in compensation.”
The final message is much shorter and just consists of a harried sounding Hoseok saying, “Yoongi-hyung, are you okay? Please call me back.”
He glances at the clock and sees that it’s only just past nine, so he taps the call button under Hoseok’s name. Hoseok answers after two rings.
“Hyung!” he shouts.
Yoongi pulls his cell further away from his ear and winces. “Hoseok-ah,” he mumbles in lieu of greeting.
“What happened?” Hoseok breathes and sounds like he’s genuinely concerned for Yoongi’s wellbeing. “You didn’t answer any of my calls.”
“I finished my paper this morning and fell asleep. I must not have heard the ringing.”
Hoseok makes a short whining noise. “I waited for an hour.”
“Yeah, about that,” Yoongi frowns, shuffling further under his blankets until the phone is pressed snuggly between his ear and his pillow. “Why?”
Hoseok’s reply this time is sharper. “Because we had plans, you asshole. After Alchemy yesterday—you promised we’d get dinner tonight.” There’s a brief pause, and then, “Did you forget?”
Yoongi remains silent because he has absolutely no memory of talking to Hoseok after Alchemy. He hardly remembers the lecture contents as it is; he must have been a zombie just going through the motions yesterday to completely forget something like that.
“I didn’t mean to,” Yoongi says quietly. “I think that paper made me crazy.”
Hoseok’s sigh is soft and resigned. “That was a really important paper, wasn’t it?”
“Professor Kim’s fifty-page long research paper on divination practices in literate versus oral cultures.” He feels the irrational twinge to look it over one more time as he says this, to ensure that everything is up to his standards before the official deadline tomorrow morning. “So, really important; yes.”
“You’re still an asshole,” Hoseok reprimands, but it’s without much heat. “I understand though. Just get me back later?”
Yoongi shuffles off to make himself instant noodles after promising his Tuesday night to dinner at the fancy Italian place down the way. He gets a few bites in before he decides that he’s actually still quite tired and goes to lay down on his bed for a few minutes. His eyes slip shut and he wakes eight hours later when his weekly Monday alarm starts blaring.
How had he slept that long? He must have been more out of it that he’d previously thought or noticed.
He promises never to leave papers to the last minute like that again and begins his walk toward Advanced Numerology.
Tuesday rolls around and Hoseok only has to call Yoongi twice before he finally picks up.
“I’m seriously mad, now,” Hoseok says. “You owe me a real explanation this time.”
Yoongi furrows his eyebrows and wracks his mind for a reason. “Why?” he asks in a sleepy voice. “Did I forget something? My paper’s not due until Monday.”
Hoseok comes over an indistinguishable amount of time later with Seokjin in tow. They’ve got the older male’s thick Herbology textbook jammed into a rucksack with various instruments Yoongi vaguely recognizes from watching Seokjin practice healing magic. It’s an impressive spread of materials, but Yoongi can’t possibly imagine what they’re doing here with it all.
He says as much to them, but Hoseok and Seokjin are too busy exchanging conspicuous, hushed whispers to pay him any mind.
“I am, surprisingly, in the same room as you guys,” he pushes out, “and can see and hear and other useful things. In case either of you have forgotten.”
Hoseok stops mid-sentence and looks over at Yoongi with carefully blank eyes. He’s not usually one for silence or ignoring Yoongi, so this makes the older witch hesitate.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yoongi,” Seokjin says and steps over the rug to lay a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Can you tell me what you did this morning?”
Yoongi makes a face at the request and rolls his eyes. This police interrogation act they’ve got going on is really starting to get old. He just wants them to get over whatever conspiracy they’ve cooked up and explain what exactly is going on.
“Why?” he asks stubbornly.
Hoseok’s chest heaves with a sigh, but Seokjin grabs his wrist and repeats himself calmly. “It’s nothing too important, just—can you tell me what you did this morning? Maybe what you had for breakfast?”
“Is this because I ate your leftovers yesterday?” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “You were supposed to be gone for break; how was I supposed to know you’d be back this soon.”
“It’s not about the leftovers,” Hoseok says and the pleading note layered beneath his words stops Yoongi short yet again. “Just answer him. Please.”
Yoongi levels them both with a look that warns of imminent revenge if they’re tugging him around for a laugh. “I don’t remember what I had for breakfast,” he answers honestly. “Cereal or something, I think? I was late for Professor Kim’s class and I had to turn my final in; breakfast wasn’t really a priority.”
“Yoongi.” Seokjin speaks gently as if he’s placating a cornered animal. “It’s Wednesday. Your Runes and Divination paper was due two days ago.”
Yoongi laughs; now he knows they’re having him on. “Please,” he says, “I couldn’t have slept that long.”
Yoongi is sitting on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands by the time Seokjin and Hoseok finish explaining their hypothesis about Yoongi's memory problems. Because apparently he's forgetting whole conversations and meals, whole days. Hoseok informs him of what had tipped him off to there being a problem, about Yoongi sleeping through two dinner plans, and Yoongi feels a sick wash of dread in his gut. He wouldn't ever forget about plans with Hoseok; this much he knows.
"So, what," he spits, "I'm doomed to losing my mind? What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?"
"It's like the flu," Seokjin explains again. He's not looking at anyone, gaze instead focused on the bible-thin pages of his textbook as he searches for a curative plant he thinks might help. "We can stop it, we just need to get the ingredients. It shouldn't be too hard."
"And my memories?" Yoongi says quietly. "The ones I've already lost—will I get them back?"
The silence that follows is answer enough for everyone.
"We'll work quickly, Yoongi-ah," Seokjin says. "I promise."
Seokjin finds the pages he needs and goes off to buy all of the necessary ingredients. Hoseok, on the other hand, is left to babysit Yoongi—which is both embarrassing and demeaning. The younger boy sits as close to him as he can without touching and keeps asking if he feels okay, or if anything hurts.
Yoongi tells him to fuck off because he's scared and doesn't like looking vulnerable in front of Hoseok. There's this horrid itching sensation behind his left eye like something's drilling a hole right through his brain. He tries not to think about what that means, or if he can physically feel this sickness stealing his memories or not.
Hoseok startles at the dismissal and goes quiet. Which—that's not right.
"No, Hobi," Yoongi sighs and closes the gap between them by grabbing one of Hoseok's hands. "I didn't—I didn't mean that." He laces his fingers through Hoseok's and grips tight. "I didn't mean it."
Hoseok doesn't say anything at first, but he twists his hand in Yoongi's grip to properly squeeze back. The touch is an anchor, if Yoongi's being honest.
"Do you remember meeting me?" Hoseok asks instead. Yoongi laughs because of course he remembers meeting Hoseok; he thinks that of all the memories he's got threaded throughout his head, meeting Hobi will be the one he keeps to the end.
"Yeah," he mumbles. "You were a big, whiny brat."
Hoseok laughs too and pulls their clasped hands into his lap to layer his other hand on top. Yoongi's heart thuds dangerously in his chest at the gesture.
"I thought you were grumpy and boring," Hoseok admits, fingers toying with the ring on Yoongi's index finger. "In fact, I told Seokjin that he should find another roommate; I couldn't imagine you making each other happy."
Yoongi remembers knowing all of this. Hoseok isn't always the most subtle person, especially when he disapproves of something, and Yoongi had liked to entertain himself by antagonizing the younger boy. When they'd met, Yoongi distinctly remembers putting headphones on in the middle of Hoseok telling him off for not doing his share of the dishes and thereafter had begun their month long war for dominance. Seokjin hadn't cottoned on to their rivalry at first, and they tried to keep it from him by hissing insults when passing in the hallway or nagging each other when Seokjin disappeared off to the bathroom.
Eventually Seokjin had walked in on them bickering over who may or may not have shit music taste and who actually has the right to define something like 'shit music taste' and said, "I'm glad to see you two are finally getting along well." So maybe they hadn't been as subtle as they'd originally thought.
"You hated me," Yoongi chuckles, recalling the memory fondly.
"I could never hate you, hyung," Hoseok says. He swipes his thumb over the soft skin of Yoongi's wrist. "Not even if I tried."
Hoseok starts telling stories of various memories he thinks are important. "So you don't forget," he explains, and though Yoongi doesn't say it aloud, he hangs on to the other's words like they're heaven-sent.
They laugh over memories of Hoseok learning to swim and Yoongi awkwardly dating that gorgeous Chinese exchange student for a semester before she'd gone back to Hong Kong. It's like they're making an oral scrapbook and Yoongi feels like maybe they can control this; maybe he won't lose everything he's ever known in this short life to some ridiculous, magical illness.
"How will I know what I've forgotten, though?" he asks after they finish laughing about the memory of Seokjin getting curry over his Halloween costume in their junior year.
"You won't forget anything else, hyung. I'll make sure of it. Seokjin will be back soon."
He doesn't look at Yoongi when he says this.
Hoseok's halfway through a retelling of their epic Lunar Solstice party from a few years back when Yoongi stops him and asks, "Sorry, who's Seokjin-hyung again?"
Hoseok makes a list of all of the important people in Yoongi's life. It goes as follows:
min hyungi (brother)
kim seokjin (roommate)
kim namjoon (divination rival)
professor park (got you that apprenticeship)
jung hoseok
"Why don't you have anything in parentheses?" Yoongi asks.
Hoseok shrugs and resolutely does not look Yoongi in the eye. Yoongi leans over and grabs the pen from Hoseok's hand to scribble an aside next to Hoseok's name.
jung hoseok (favorite brat)
It makes Hoseok smile, just for a moment, and Yoongi wishes he wasn't both the reason for his smile and the cause of its quick departure.
After a while, Hoseok goes to the kitchen to grab some water. Seokjin had texted them that he was on his way back ten minutes ago which means he should be home very soon. Yoongi's forgetting little things, but they're both feeling confident that they're going to beat it. He comes back in with two glasses and sets them both on the coffee table.
Yoongi looks up and finds himself staring at a gorgeous stranger with dyed brown hair and dark circles under his eyes. He startles a bit and watches as this other man sets a glass of lukewarm water in front of him.
"In case you get thirsty," the man smiles and it's like a fragment from some sort of dream. Yoongi bristles under it and hastily grabs the drink. He's not sure who this guy is or what either of them are doing on this couch—and Yoongi comes to the alarming realization that he can't quite make sense of anything happening at the moment. The last solid memory he has is of needing to start his final paper for Runes and Divination, and even then he's not sure what that means. Is it an assignment for something important?
"Where did we leave off?" Cute Guy asks, but to Yoongi's relief it seems to be a rhetorical question because he continues on. "Oh I know, what about when you got drunk on jello shots at your birthday last year? I'm pretty sure you puked blue the next morning."
"Ha," Yoongi laughs and tries not to sound too stilted. "Yeah."
Cute Guy's eyes go soft as he continues speaking. "I bothered you all night to get away from the bar and dance with me, which you repeatedly—and meanly, I might add—rejected me by saying you don't dance. You danced with Namjoon, though. So funny." Cute Guy doesn't look like he actually finds that detail all that funny; in fact, he mostly just looks sad. "But I did get some good photos," he chuckles, face lighting up again. "Like the one where you passed out and we drew a mustache on you. That was good."
Yoongi gets a rush of images at that: dancing while pressed between sweaty bodies; shitty house music with heavy bass; the weight of hands on his waist from a faceless man at his back; Cute Guy buying him a drink and pressing a sloppy kiss to Yoongi's cheek before wishing him happy birthday—
"Hoseok," he gasps loudly and steadies himself by gripping tight to the hem of Hoseok's shirt. "Fuck. Shit shit shit. I forgot—I—I couldn't—"
Hoseok puts a hand on Yoongi's thigh and grips hard enough to bruise while he calls someone on his cell.
"Hyung," he says into the receiver, "I think it's getting worse. How much longer are you going to be?"
Yoongi thinks about all of the memories that he has, the memories that make him who he is, and he doesn't want to lose them. Like his first big fight with his brother; they'd been arguing over sharing a video game and insults had gotten personal and they didn't speak for nearly two weeks afterwards. It was the worst fight they'd ever had. But breaking down and crying in the hallway at school about it, embarrassing himself in front of countless students, only to subsequently have his brother rush to his side and usher him away from the prying eyes—that had been a defining moment in their relationship.
Or when he'd gotten caught kissing the boy from his part time job and his brother had bravely stood up to their parents after they told him that his sexuality was a mental illness—what happens if he forgets that?
So he focuses on the ones he wants to remember, forces himself to remember if it kills him.
Four years ago, Yoongi wasn't happy. He was asleep and going through the motions, stuck in a headspace that felt infinite and hollow. The hobbies he had, the friends he made—it was all perfunctory. Even the things he loved felt mechanical. He chose the university in Seoul because it was far away and different and promised at the very least a change in scenery.
He immersed himself in studying his first year and, despite always sitting in the back of class, consistently scored at the top of his classes. Even in the dorms, he kept to himself and poured what little energy he had into learning his craft. It was better but not all that different from home.
And then he'd met Namjoon. The kid was a mouthy little freshman that had somehow tested his way into a second year level divination course. When the teacher asked a question, his hand was the first one up, and he always had the right answer.
It pissed Yoongi off. He had been content before to just sit in the back and quietly accept his good grades; Namjoon made him want to fight for it.
So he started talking in class more, made a point of challenging Namjoon's tea readings and studied the material until his eyes felt like sandpaper just to make sure he had the upper hand. Namjoon responded in kind and they made each other better. By the end of the year, they weren't even in the same class anymore so they met to debate over coffee instead. Somewhere along the line they had become friends.
Namjoon was the one who had introduced Seokjin into Yoongi's life. The two were friends from way back and he thought that Yoongi's quiet lifestyle would match Seokjin's quite well, so he suggested they room together when Seokjin mentioned looking for a new place to live.
After that, Yoongi started to think of his life as Before and After Seokjin, because everything good in his life now, everything that makes him happy—this friendship of theirs started all of it, really.
When Seokjin finally returns, Yoongi knows who he is, but by the time they've finished setting up the portable cauldron and gotten the water to boil, Yoongi can't bring his name to mind. The man beside him on the couch is a mystery as well, but his presence calms something in Yoongi almost instinctively so Yoongi lets it pass.
"Yoongi-hyung," the guy sitting next to him mumbles into Yoongi's ear. They're close enough that he can feel a brush of hot, humid air across his cheek. "We're almost done. No worries."
"Done with what?" he asks and belatedly realizes how that might have been a stupid thing to say. The two men look at him from their respective spots in the room and their faces fall like he's just told them he ran over their cat with his bike—twice. On purpose.
"Please, hyung," the younger of the strangers whispers desperately, and Yoongi turns his gaze to settle on the way the boy's eyes curve down at the edges. Yoongi takes note of the way the other male has the whole length of his body pressed against Yoongi, one hand firm on his thigh while the other squeezes at Yoongi's hands until his knuckles go white. The way he'd said hyung makes Yoongi feel something deep in his gut.
"You love me," he says, and it's not a question. "A lot. I can tell."
The guy flushes and turns away in embarrassment, but he doesn't deny it. His face looks incredibly sad. The man stirring the contents of the cauldron makes a quiet retreat to the bathroom and leaves the two of them sitting awkwardly side by side on the couch, alone.
"Sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?" Yoongi frowns and the younger boy runs shaky fingers through his hair. There's a moment where Yoongi can almost see the other physically scrounge up all of his courage, and then he's leaning over and sliding his hands along Yoongi's jaw and pulling him into a kiss that's overwhelming in its intensity. Yoongi doesn't return the action and waits until the boy sags in defeat and pulls away.
"It's okay," Yoongi murmers and pats the back of the other's hand. "Don't be embarrassed. I'll probably forget in a few minutes anyway."
The words don't have the calming effect he'd been going for, and the stranger excuses himself to check on the guy who'd disappeared off to the bathroom. Yoongi feels a longing deep in his gut when he catches sight of the younger boy's back, hunched and sagging like he's carrying the weight of the world, and wishes not for the first time that he could remember what makes this person so important to him.
Yoongi remembers Hoseok in jolts. It's like something deep inside him wants to remember, needs to remember, so it forces the memories to resurface.
Such as when Hoseok pulls a pair of old wire-rimmed glasses out of his coat pocket to read the potion recipe and Yoongi remembers leaning over rune texts with Hoseok until their backs hurt and coming to the realization that they were the only two left in the library; or when the younger boy starts nodding off and images of whisking up pillow forts and practicing sigils under floating fairy lights pop into his head; or remembering wanting to touch and explore and worship, remembering too many nights wasted wondering rather than doing, when he catches the other staring at his lips for too long not to mean anything.
Don't forget, he tells himself.
Don't forget, he repeats until there's nothing else left in his head.
Yoongi only takes the potion after the two unknown men in the room have assured him that it's not poisoned or jinxed. He puts up a fight at first claiming that they're trying to kill him or kidnap him, and he isn't having any of it until the younger looking of the two talks him down from his panic and explains that it's medicine of some sort.
"Please," the boy begs and something in Yoongi's chest locks at the sound. "For me."
The drink makes Yoongi woozy and tired and he falls into a fitful sleep as the mixture starts taking effect.
He dreams of one specific memory.
It's New Year's and he's alone in the apartment. He hasn't been to his parents' house for a holiday in nearly three years, but he makes sure to call his brother and wish him well, and they talk about what's happening in their separate lives and catch up on new music recommendations. Outside the window is a soft blanket of fresh snow, and speaking with his brother starts to make him homesick. So they say their goodbyes and Yoongi busies himself with working on his much-neglected kitchen magic and doing the chores Seokjin had left for him in list form.
A few hours later his phone buzzes with a message from Hoseok on Kakao. sick and stuck home alone it says and it's quickly accompanied by a sticker of a crying panda.
Yoongi allows a small, fond smile before replying back with a cold, so what? But he grabs his keys and pockets his phone before going to pick up Hoseok's favorite fried chicken.
When he arrives at Hoseok's door, his cheeks and nose are a ruddy red from the cold and he's huddled so far down into his scarf that Hoseok probably only recognizes him by the shock of blue hair poking out from under his hat.
"Hyung," Hoseok says and his voice comes out thick and nasally. "What are you doing here?"
Yoongi thrusts the bag of chicken into Hoseok's chest and steps around him into the warmth of his studio apartment. "I thought I'd make your New Year's less pathetic," he grouses.
Hoseok smiles like he knows Yoongi's dirty secret of caring too much and takes a huge whiff of the food. "You're my favorite," he says, and it warms Yoongi to the core.
They end up spending the night huddled for warmth under a shared blanket while watching sappy, belated Christmas films that Hoseok insists are classics.
It's one of Yoongi's dearest memories of the two of them and he clings to it like a lifeline. He refuses to forget.
He wakes up with Hoseok curled tight against him and Seokjin slumped over and asleep in the arm chair across the room.
"What time is it?" he mumbles groggily. Seokjin remains dead to the world, but Hoseok blinks awake immediately and searches Yoongi's face for any sign of recognition.
"Hyung?"
Yoongi makes a face of discomfort and turns further into the couch. "My head hurts."
"How much do you remember?" Hoseok presses, fingers nervously skating over Yoongi's face like he's checking for injuries.
Yoongi pushes his hands away and stares out at his friend through sleepy, half-lidded eyes. "What time is it?" he repeats. "Did I finish my paper?" As his body fully drags itself out of the pit of sleep, he actually begins to register the fact that Seokjin is here for some reason. Which is strange, because last Yoongi remembers, his roommate was supposed to be off gallivanting with his girlfriend.
"And why the fuck is Seokjin-hyung home?"
Hoseok lets out a breath that sounds like a sob of relief and pulls Yoongi into his chest. The close contact has Yoongi's heart thundering under his skin and he hopes Hoseok can't feel it between them.
"You were really sick," Hoseok gently explains. "Seokjin came to help out."
The week following the incident is strange and off-putting in the smallest of ways. Yoongi has to retake all of his finals, and the university nurse signs off on an exemption so that Professor Kim will accept his paper late. The academic shit is the easiest to fix, however, as it's just technicalities and paperwork—so much paperwork.
Instead, Yoongi finds himself struggling more to correct the shift in his and Hoseok's relationship. He's not sure how it happened or what he'd done while sick to cause it, but there's a notable difference in the way Hoseok handles being around Yoongi. At least for the moments when they are around each other, which have become brief and far apart.
Classes have ended for the semester and break leaves Yoongi alone in the apartment with an outrageous amount of free time that he has no idea what to do with. So he spends his days reading and writing and checking his phone incessantly for messages. (He gets none.)
He tries messaging Hoseok, waits for the other to take the lead and suggest they hang out, but the only replies he gets are in stickers or single word sentences. He hadn't realized how much he depended on Hoseok to take the lead in their friendship before all of this, but now he's afraid that his lack of social expertise will be their ruin.
He calls Seokjin under the guise of asking where a specific piece of cookware is, but the older boy figures him out in a second. He probably shouldn't have made his excuse about anything surrounding cooking considering Seokjin knows how little Yoongi bothers with it; everything is clearer in hindsight, though.
"What is this actually about?" Seokjin deadpans and Yoongi gives up the facade.
"Hoseok won't talk to me," he says. "What do I do?"
Seokjin sighs and Yoongi can hear shuffling noises followed by the click of a door closing. "Yoongi," he says, "I'm going to speak bluntly here because you're my friend and I think you deserve that much."
Yoongi makes to complain about tact and manners but Seokjin cuts him off.
"You need to get over whatever insecurities you're focusing on this time and tell him about this crush you've been nursing for two years. I'm not saying it will fix everything, but it will be a start." Seokjin lets out a soft breath. "And I bet you that you'll feel better, too. No matter how Hoseok responds. I promise."
Which is how Yoongi finds himself standing outside Hoseok's apartment building with takeaway fried chicken and struggling to find the courage to ring up. He stands around long enough that he's sure the chicken's gone cold by now before finally, finally pressing the call button for Hoseok's unit.
He waits; nothing. He presses the button again and double checks that it's Hoseok's proper room number; still nothing. Deciding to cut his losses, he turns on his heel and runs straight into another body.
"Hyung," Hoseok says, and Yoongi peeks out from under his beanie to blink up at the very person he'd been searching for.
"What are you doing here?" Hoseok asks quietly. His voice is devoid of any of the usual excitement it has when seeing Yoongi.
"I—" Yoongi pauses. He hadn't really thought of a good excuse for showing up; he'd just done it. So he tells the truth. "I wanted to talk to you." He shoves the chicken toward his friend. "And I brought fried chicken."
Hoseok seems to smile in spite of himself and accepts the food gratefully. "Reminiscent of the good old days," he says, "eh, Yoongi?"
"That's Yoongi-hyung, you brat." He shuffles his weight between his feet and tries to keep his gaze from falling to the ground. "But I really did want to talk to you."
Hoseok makes to unlock the entrance door, stepping around Yoongi and saying, "Do you want to talk inside?" But Yoongi's scared he's going to lose his courage somewhere along the four flights of stairs up to the other boy's apartment, so he grabs Hoseok's arm and turns him so that they're facing each other.
"No," he says resolutely. "Let me say this here, before I chicken out."
Hoseok laughs and shakes the bag of fried chicken. "Punny," he says, but quiets when he sees that Yoongi's not in a joking mood.
"I like you a lot, Jung Hoseok," Yoongi says. Hoseok goes shock still and the paper bag crinkles as his grip tightens around it. "More than I probably should. And when I almost forgot that—I realized how much I didn't want to."
Yoongi steels his nerves before pushing forward, determined to say his piece even if it leaves him alone in the cold afterward. "And even if you reject me—even if you tell me nothing good can come of it, I just. Thought you should know. Because for some godforsaken reason, you mean a lot to me."
Hoseok is slightly slackjawed. There are clumps of snowflakes stuck in his hair and the tattered scarf looped around his neck is caught in his jacket zipper, but even pink-faced and shivering like this, Yoongi still thinks he's beautiful.
"Okay," he says after a few long, drawn out beats of silence and takes a step back. "I'm going to go before this gets awkward."
But Hoseok doesn't let him get even two feet before he's tugging Yoongi into his arms and burying his face in the crook of Yoongi's neck.
"You didn't even know who I was, but you could still see that I was in love with you," he says. His voice vibrates against Yoongi's throat in a pleasant way, and Yoongi brings his own arms up to return Hoseok's hold. There's a warmth threatening to burst in his chest, but he waits to hear what Hoseok has to say.
"I thought, he must know," Hoseok says. "He must have always known, because if a version of you that had never seen me before could read me that quickly, there was no way you with your memories couldn't know." Yoongi digs his fingers into Hoseok's back and pulls them tighter together.
"I thought I had to get over you," Hoseok finishes, and Yoongi's chest aches at the thought.
He turns his face into Hoseok's mop of brown hair and mumbles, "Please don't."
They spend the night much like they used to: wrapped in blankets on Hoseok's floor magicking up various colors of light and scribbling sigils into the hardwood, but this time Yoongi lets his hand linger on Hoseok's body. He splays his palm out over Hoseok's knee and slowly drags it upward over his thigh and lets Hoseok return the gesture.
There's still snow falling outside and Hoseok's profile against the white-lined cityscape is an image Yoongi wants to capture forever.
"Want to make a pillow fort to make out in?" Hoseok whispers into Yoongi's temple, and Yoongi forgets about forever for a moment. He has Hoseok close now, and whether or not he actually remembers how Hoseok looked tonight years in the future, he knows he'll remember what was important about it.
"Fuck yeah," he replies and jumps up to collect every soft thing Hoseok owns and make a mess of Hoseok's apartment. Hoseok scrambles to follow at his heels and laughs the whole way.
They take a picture of their finished project later and send it in a message to Seokjin and Namjoon. Yoongi makes sure to save a copy for himself.
It's definitely a memory for the books.