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for-the-love-of-bangtan · 5 years

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In Your Eyes

Summary: You’ve had a weird connection with Hoseok since the two of you were children. Living thousands of miles apart didn’t stop the two of you from being able to see what the other sees, hear what the other hears, and feel what the other feels. This bond between you two brought you closer together, but not close enough to touch. So when Hoseok asks to meet you in person, you begin to wonder what could happen if your proximity gets a little closer.

Pairing: Hoseok x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression, mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of death, mentions of abandonment, cursing

10.3 k

A/N: Italicized dialogue is Korean. This is my first fanfiction (but not my first story) so bare with me, please. I hope you enjoy!

“I’m scared,” You whispered to him, your voice hoarse. It was dark in your room, but when you blinked your eyes, you weren’t there anymore.

The room was bright and open, unfamiliar to you. The boy turned to you, an expression of shock on his young face. He was taller than you, and lanky, perhaps a year or two older. His eyes, narrow and frightened, focused on you. He opened his mouth to speak.

You shut your eyes, afraid that if he spoke he would be real. When you reopened your eyes, he was still there. He stood in your dark room, at the foot of your bed. This time, he appeared more startled.

“Where am I?” He cried, his tongue foreign to you. You were young and stupid, but you figured quickly he was speaking and Asian language.

“Who are you?” Your voice was meek. You drew the covers of your bed up to your chin, covering your frail body.

When you shut your eyes again, he disappeared. You were left alone in your empty room. You waited. You shut your eyes again. You reopened them. But you were still alone.

“I was seven,” You paused, phrasing the statement as though it was a question. You drew your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “When I first saw him.”

“In a dream?” She queried.

“Sure,” You responded.

“So you’ve seen him again?”

“Mostly in my dreams.”

“Mostly?” She quirked an eyebrow, her expression quizzical.

“Shit, I mean,” You buried your face against your knees for a brief moment, trying to think of a logical answer that didn’t make you sound insane, which seemed pointless, considering you were sitting in your therapist’s office. Being a little bit insane was essential to be here. “I don’t know.”

She seemed to consider you for a moment. You could see a dozen questions brewing in her mind through the curious glint in her eyes. “Tell me about him.”

“Is she asking about me?” He said, his voice echoing in your mind. “I wonder what you’re going to say.”

You wondered too. But a part of you was afraid - afraid to disclose the intimate details, afraid of what she will think of you…

“Can I go home now?”

“We still have time, Y/N.”

You shifted in your seat. “I want to go home.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You hated the way she always ended every sentence with your name, as though she were trying to goad answers out of you that would make you sound crazy. But you were crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” He said.

“Of course I’m not okay, I’m here, aren’t I?” She looked at me with an expression of concern that you did not care for. Sometimes you loved her, because she was an angel, but sometimes you hated her, because she also tended to be a patronizing cunt. “Can I go home now?”

“Please make another appointment, Y/N.” She said, following you with her gaze as you gathered your bag and rushed out of the room. You didn’t make another appointment.

It’s been fifteen years, and you’ve begun to understand some of what he says. You picked up after several years of pining to understand him that he spoke Korean. He was quite excited when you chose a Korean language course as your elective in high school, but he didn’t start to learn English until you were well into college. Of course, you didn’t mind. His unrelenting thoughts began to make sense to you now.

“You didn’t tell her about me?”

“Go away, Hoseok,” you mumbled under my breath. Sometimes you became restless and annoyed after therapy sessions - Hoseok knew this, but it didn’t stop him from asking if something was wrong.

“Are you upset?”

You had continued learning Korean when you were in college, so at this point you pride yourself in your fluency. His English, well, it was improving, but you couldn’t deny it was cute when he spoke broken English.

“I’m sorry,” He said.

It was noon, as it was made evident by the sun glaring down on you, which meant it was three in the morning in Seoul. “Why are you awake?” You spoke as I took off down the street to the bus stop.

You stopped in your tracks, and found yourself standing in the center of what was clearly the Bangtan dance practice room. You let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to face him. Hoseok leaned against one of the mirror walls, his chest rising and falling in accordance to the panting breath he let out. “Hoseok,” You began. “What are you doing practicing at-” You paused to check the math in your head. “Three o'clock in the morning?”

Hoseok seemed shocked to see you standing five feet in front of him. You watched as his eyes scanned your body, and then as he stood. Suddenly the two of you weren’t in his dance studio anymore. You stood on the sidewalk, the bus stop looming over you. A line of people began to gather nearby. You turned to study them, briefly, and pressed your phone against your cheek to feign a phone call. You learned the hard way that speaking telepathically to someone across the world made you look kind of crazy. Boy were high school students dicks.

“You look nice today,” His voice almost a whisper.

You examined yourself - you had decided to spice things up today and wear a black and white patterned, button up shirt with your usual black jeans and funny socks.

“I thought I’d dress up for my therapist, let her know that even though I’m an emotional mess I can still dress myself,” You paused, scrutinizing Hoseok. “But that’s beside the point. You should get some sleep.”

“I know… It’s just - the comeback is just around the corner, and we just barely came back from tour, so everything is hectic- I just want this to be perfect.”

“Hobi,” You paused, your attention diverted when the bus came into view. “You’re perfect. Go sleep, asshole. I gotta catch the bus.”

A small smile found its way onto Hoseok’s face, and you returned it.

It’s been fifteen years since you first saw Hoseok, standing in his room, in your room. You never understood why the connection started when it did, but when it did, you began to see him, hear him… feel him. But he was thousands of miles away. He handled it a lot better than you had. He didn’t tell anyone when you first saw each other, or after. You were an idiot to tell your parents that there were voices in your head.

You and Hoseok worked out a system. It was adapted and refined over several years, and eventually you had settled into the life of a night owl, staying up well up to four in the morning to communicate with Hoseok, while he went about his day. So sometimes you’d get minimum four hours of sleep, but you made up for it by taking naps throughout the day. It may not have been the healthiest system, but you were more than willing to make sacrifices for your best friend. For years Hoseok complained, worried that the erratic sleep schedule you had built would be detrimental to your health, to which you would answer, “Hoseok, every kid my age lives off of five hours of sleep and copious amounts of caffeine. It’s cool. It’s hip. Get with the times, grandpa.” Eventually, Hoseok resigned to letting you go to bed at ungodly hours, but it didn’t stop him from voicing his concern every now and then.

“Y/N,” Hoseok was waiting in an airport terminal for his flight to America, where he and the rest of BTS were set to start their comeback-comeback tour, following the release of their new album. The other boys were scattered about the seating area, some on their phones, some trying to get in some sleep before the flight. “It’s two in the morning, get some sleep.”

“You’re not my dad,” You muttered under your breath, ducking your head. You were sitting at your desk, watching the latest k-drama Hoseok recommended to you, and eating chips. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Go. To. Sleep,” He reiterated in English, shaking his head in disbelief as you turned to look him in the eye, defiantly popping another chip into your mouth.

You took in your surroundings, examining the airport terminal. They were in a private waiting room - it was just Hoseok and the other boys. “You’re about to leave for America, aren’t you?”

The question had Hoseok buzzing. Since BTS had first taken on the U.S. when their popularity was taking off, it had never occured to either of you to suggest meeting in person. But this time, the question was on the tip of Hoseok’s tongue. He desperately wanted to see you - for real. But he swallowed the desire and decided instead to casually ignore the prospect, something the two of you had been doing for years.

“Yes! I’m excited.”

“Hobi,” You paused the show and swiveled around in your chair to face him, sitting on the edge of your bed. “This show is crazy. I can barely follow what’s happening. I got so confused as to how everyone is connected that I had to make a diagram-” You pulled out a sheet of paper where you had written all of the character’s names, connected by lines and descriptions of how they were related to each other. It was an intricate web that spanned across the entire paper, color coded and deeply detailed. Hoseok examined the paper, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“But it’s good right?” Hoseok said, leaning back.

“It’s goddamn amazing,” You added. “It’s your fault I’m not sleeping tonight. This show is too good.”

At the realization that you wanted to continue your show, Hoseok pouted, his eyes glistening and his bottom lip jutting out, “Aw, I wanted to talk to you.

God, I’m so whipped for this boy, you thought to yourself.

You briefly turned around to shut your laptop, “Okay, I have to take a break anyways. My eyeballs are about to melt from how much I’ve been watching.”

Hoseok smiled, “I’m happy you like it.”

You never really pressured Hoseok to speak English - you were more than happy to speak Korean with him. But since you had made the effort to learn Korean, he insisted on doubling his efforts on learning English, especially now that BTS was becoming increasingly popular worldwide. So, you attributed his desire to learn English to his love for his English-speaking ARMYs, and not because he wanted to make it up to you for learning a whole new language.

“Your English is getting better,” You said, reaching into the bag of chips again. “Hey, do you think you can eat these chips?”

“What?” Hoseok looked baffled, mostly with your train of thought, rather than the plausibility of eating chips that were located across the world. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, try it,” You held the bag towards Hoseok. He looked at it warily at the way you expectantly shook to the bag of chips at him, waiting for him to make a move. Gingerly, Hoseok reached into the bag and grabbed a chip. He held the chip in front of his face, his eyes on you. A part of Hoseok wanted to throw the chip to the side and touch you instead, because this was stupid, right? Why were you so fixated on what would happen if Hoseok ate a chip that was thousands of miles away, when you could be wondering what would happen if the two of you touched?

You held your breath as Hoseok ate the chip, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when you swallowed. You were so focused on watching him eat the chip that you entirely missed when he finished, your eyes locked on his mouth.

“Y/N,” Hoseok deadpanned.

“Holy shit,” You tugged on the roots of your hair, utterly flabbergasted. “He ate the chip. This is amazing. Earth-shattering.” You stood abruptly, your hands still tangled in your hair. Hoseok wished it were his hands in your hair. “You just ate a chip from six thousand miles away. Holy cow! Do you know what this means? Because I don’t? I-” You froze, examining the way Hoseok looked at you. There was something in the way he looked at you with a gentle smile that sent a chill down your entire body. “Hobi, how are you not freaking out? You just- you ate the chip.”

Hoseok shrugged, seeming too calm for what just happened.

You slumped back into your chair, staring at Hoseok with disbelief. The fucking audacity of the guy to just act nonchalant after eating the chip and stare at you like you were the only person in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hoseok quickly averted his eyes, a blush creeping onto his face. Suddenly the two of you weren’t in your room anymore - you were in the airport seating area, and you noticed that the other boys were beginning to collect their carry-on bags.

Namjoon turned to Hoseok, looking tired. “Come on, Hobi,” He said. Namjoon eyed the chair that Hoseok had been speaking to, knowingly. “You can talk to Y/N when we land.”

You stuck your tongue out at Namjoon, making Hoseok erupt in laughter. Namjoon eyed him warily, and walked out of the room with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“You should go,” You said, nevertheless.

“Stay with me on the plane,” Hoseok said, pouting his lips.

“Yah, I thought you wanted me to sleep,” You said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Hoseok’s eyes widened with realization. He had completely forgotten it was nearing three in the morning for you. Time always became obsolete when the two of you were together, which is why it was so easy for you to stay up so late to talk to Hoseok.

“Plus,” You added. “I’ve never been on a plane.”

“You told me you came on a plane when you moved here,” Hoseok countered.

“That doesn’t count - I was a baby, Hobi,” You recalled your parents moving from (insert your hometown/country) when you were little. Your dad left shortly after you first met Hoseok; you remember Hoseok being there when you realized your father wasn’t going to come back.

Suddenly, you found yourself sitting in a luxury seat next to Hoseok, on an airplane. Panic began to jet through your veins, and Hoseok was quick to notice. “Go to sleep,” He beckoned. How he deeply desired to take your hand in his, give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Right,” You muttered under your breath. “Yeah, thanks Hobi.”

“For what?”

It occurred to you that Hoseok didn’t know you were thinking about your dad, about how Hoseok never left your side when your dad did. You felt embarrassed, thinking about it, but a part of you wanted Hoseok to know how much he meant to you, so you turned and looked deep in his eyes. “For talking to me, I guess.” God you were awful at explaining your emotions. You began to pity your therapist for having to handle your emotionally inept ass.

Hoseok smiled nonetheless, “Your my best friend, Y/N.”

Suddenly, Yoongi, who had been walking down the aisle to take his seat, froze, his head whipping to face Hoseok. “I’m not your best friend?”

It was a warm evening, so you lay in bed in one of your dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. Your skin felt thick with heat, and the fan in the corner of the room did little to relieve you. You began to sweat, and your chest rose and fell exasperatedly. Desperately, you rubbed at the Korean sheet mask on your face, collecting the cool liquid on your fingers and depositing it across your neck.

You turned over onto my side and scanned the room before you. You were in a hotel room. You knew that Bangtan was touring in America. You knew because you were excited to see them live, finally. “What are you doing, Hobi?”

Hoseok gasped, but there was a sense of tiredness to it. You figured he had been practicing again, but that wasn’t the case. You stood up, removing the sheet mask from your face and tossing it aside, just in time to see Hoseok scrambling on his bed.

“Y/N!” Hoseok screeched, his face glowing vibrant red. His t-shirt had ridden up his chest, exposing his well defined stomach, and he was now making an effort to hide himself. His sweatpants were hurriedly pulled up his legs, and were loosely hugging his hips. You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of his hardness through the sheer fabric of his sweatpants.

“Were you masturbating?”

Hoseok drew his knees up to his chest upon noticing you staring, and you tore my gaze away from the sight, a shit-eating grin on your face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” You said, your voice husky and laced with amusement. “Is this your hotel room? Nice.”

You turned around to scan the room, when he called you. “Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, turning back to face him.

“Because,” He paused, bowing his head in shame. “I was thinking of you. That’s why you showed up, isn’t it?”

You froze in your tracks. “Oh,” You whispered, your voice cracking.

Hoseok suddenly moved from his bed, and stood before you. His face looked panicked, and you could see tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just- I was thinking, and then all of a sudden I was thinking of you, because I always think of you- but- not like that I mean! I mean I always-”

“Hobi…”

“I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable-” Hoseok collapsed on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

You stood before him, frozen, admiring his form. He dug the meat of his palms into his eyes, and you worried that he might cry. “I’m disgusting, you must think I’m disgusting.” He mumbled to himself.

You had never touched him. You was always too scared to, and you thought he was too. The two of you never knew what would happen if you touched; a dozen ideas of what might happen always raced through your heads. But in that moment, as you looked at him, flushed from touching himself, you wanted to touch him.

Hoseok looked up, and you knew by the look of shock in his teary eyes that he half expected you to be gone. “What are you doing?” He croaked, watching as you approached him.

“You think about me?” Your eyes shifted, scanning his face for some form of answer. Hoseok opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t seem to form any coherent phrase as he watched you with wonder, and a little bit of panic, in his eyes.

It was quick, the moment you touched him. You lifted your hand and placed it on his shoulder, and he felt… real, but you knew he almost wasn’t. There was an airy feeling to his flesh, as though he were only halfway there. So you squeezed his shoulder, and watched as his breath hitched and something flashed across his eyes.

“Y/N…” He whispered.

Gently, you pushed him onto his back and, in one quick motion, straddled his hips.

“Do you think of me like this?”

“Yes…” He moaned, gripping my hips. “God, yes.”

You leaned down, hovering over him, your faces centimeters apart. You knew that if you did this, the touch would be real, your connection would be real. You moved closer to him, holding your breath. Your lips ghosted over his, and you could hear him suck in a breath.

“Y/N…” Hoseok tightened his grip on your hips, and slowly slid his hands up your sides, and across your back.

For a moment, everything was still, the two of you unmoving in anticipation, until...

“J-Hope!” Jimin flung the door open, stepping inside with a wide stride. His eyes shifted over the room, until they landed on Hoseok, lying on his back against the bed. “It’s time to...go. What are you doing?”

Hoseok shot up, staring at Jimin with a wild look in his eyes. “Jimin!”

“Look, bro, we gotta go. We’re going out for dinner, remember?”

“Right, yeah,” Hoseok nervously patted himself down, feeling warm where you were once sitting.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, your, uh...” Jimin said, leaning against the door frame, a knowing look on his face. Jimin’s gaze shifted to Hoseok’s lap, where he was still visibly excited against his sweatpants. Hoseok followed Jimin’s gaze, and promptly threw a pillow at his bandmate.

“Did you wash your hands?” Jimin quipped, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yah, Jimin-ah!” Hoseok griped, swatting at his dongsaeng’s arm.

“What’s going on?” Jin chimed in, leaning over the table to examine Hoseok and Jimin with piqued curiosity. “Why are you fighting?”

Hoseok opened his mouth to speak a quick excuse, but Jimin beat him to it. “Hobi-hyung is embarrassed because I caught him masturbating.”

Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at his friends, the shit eating grin never abandoning his face. Hoseok shrunk in his seat, burying his face into his hands.

“Yah, Jiminah, we’re eating! I don’t need the mental image of Hobi masturbating when we’re about to eat,” Yoongi groaned.

In all honesty, it was nothing the boys hadn’t joked about before, but the embarrassment was tenfold knowing that Hoseok was about to kiss you when Jimin rudely interrupted, even if the other boys didn’t know that was what was bothering him.

“Why are you embarrassed, Hobi? It’s not like we don’t do it too,” Taehyung, who sat to Hoseok’s right, mentioned, placing a comforting hand on Hoseok’s thigh.

“It’s not that,” Hoseok muttered. “I was with Y/N.”

The room stilled. Everyone bore an expression of shock, and a bit of confusion. Jimin, the most curious (having seen Hoseok in his flustered state), spoke first, “Wait,” He paused for emphasis. “You were with Y/N? In the hotel room?”

Hoseok dropped his hands from his face and found six pairs of eyes drilling holes in him. “Yes?”

Jin was the first to laugh, his windshield wiper guffaw erupting the silence of the room. The others joined in on a chuckle, and Jimin leaned over to Hoseok and spoke above the laughter, “I’m so sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Hoseok let out a noise of protest and promptly began banging his head against the table. He felt one of his bandmate’s cool hands against his neck, probably Taehyung’s, and stopped the assault on his forehead. Hoseok pressed his cheek flat against the table, facing his friends, “We were about to kiss...”

“The way I saw it, it looked like you guys were going to do more than kiss,” Jimin announced. The table erupted into a chorus of ‘ooo’s and ‘aaa’s.

“You saw nothing!” Hoseok snapped, rising from the table.

“I didn’t know you guys could, like,” Namjoon motioned with his hands. The others mimicked him, motioning vulgar things. “Touch.”

“I didn’t know either,” Hoseok admitted. “We never tried before.”

“But you wanted to, right?” Taehyung queried. “Touch ‘em, I mean.”

“Of course!” The boys giggled at Hoseok’s response. “They’re just so-” He let out a distressed noise, burying his face in his hands again. “But after the first time I was too scared to try again. I didn’t think they wanted it too.”

“Wait,” Jin pauses, and everyone turns to face him. “The first time? I thought today was the first time.”

Hoseok’s face reddens with embarrassment and a little bit of shame. “I may have touched them before… They were drunk, so they don’t remember.”

“Hoseok!” Taehyung shrieks, slapping Hoseok’s arm. The others begin to shout out their disapproval, and it dawns upon Hoseok what he was insinuating.

“No! I didn’t take advantage of them! I swear! They were drunk and having a panic attack, so I just hugged them!” Hoseok shouted above everyone else’s complaints.

The table quieted down, and they all took what Hoseok said into consideration.

“And they don’t remember?” Jimin said. “That sucks, hyung.”

Hoseok pouted, remembering the night. He had awoken to the sensation of his heart pounding, and found you curled up on the floor crying. It wasn’t the first time you had a panic attack, nor was it the first time he witnessed it. But it was the first time Hoseok did something about it. He picked you up in his arms, and let you cry into his chest. It was terrifying, the electrifying sensation of actually touching you, even though you were thousands of miles away.

“Where are they right now?” Jungkook asked from across the table.

Hoseok looked at the maknae, as did everyone else. “I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “Home, probably. It’s late.”

“What do they look like?” Jungkook asked.

“Yah! Why do you have so many questions?”

“I’m just curious,” Jungkook pouted, slumping in his seat. “We all are, honestly. Your friend says he’s communicating telepathically with a person across the world and you get curious. ”

The others nodded in agreement.

“You’ve known them longer than you’ve known us, and we don’t know much about them. Sure, you talk about how they have the cutest laugh but-” Jin commented, and was abruptly cut off by Yoongi.

“We want to know the important stuff,” Yoongi finished, much to Jin’s displeasure.

“Well, they live here. In the States, I mean,” Hoseok began. “They’re twenty-two. And they… they’re beautiful.”

The boys’ faces lit up upon seeing the bright smile on Hoseok’s face. “You really like them, Hobi,” Namjoon prompted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate to say, “I really do.”

It was silent for a while, everyone smiling at Hoseok, and Hoseok smiling, thinking about you.

“So when are you gonna meet her? You know, kiss her for real?” Yoongi said, bluntly.

It was late, and sleep had eluded you for hours. You wondered what Hoseok was doing, if he was thinking about you, about what you had almost done. You had wanted to feel him again, so you laid in bed and connected your phone to your Bluetooth speaker, listening to the gentle, heavy beats of Hoseok’s playlist. The two of you always shared music with each other, it was another connection that the two of you shared.

“Hi,” Hoseok stood in your room. You shot up in your bed to look at him. He was dressed in a black coat over a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looked so handsome, his hair falling over his eyes in a boyish way.

“Hi,” You whispered, your hands restlessly brushing your hair, then finding their way to rest on your lap.

“You’re still awake?” Hoseok eyed the clock mounted on the wall - it was well past midnight.

“So are you,” You responded. His smile was small, and you saw it briefly before he ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks. Hoseok began to play with the hem of his shirt for some time, until you stepped forward, garnering his attention.

“Hi,” you repeated. He looked you in the eyes and smiled wide.

“Are you listening to my playlist?” Hoseok quirked, realization dawning upon him as he took in the surroundings of your room. It was a small room, a part of a studio apartment that you had moved into during your first year of college. Hoseok always said he was proud of you for becoming independent so young, moving out of your grandparents home as soon as you started college.

You said nothing as he moved towards where the music was coming from, and promptly began to dance. You sat back down on the edge of your bed, watching him. A laugh escaped you, and it made Hoseok smile like the sun. Hoseok continued to dance, moving across the room until he stopped in front of you. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers hanging in the air between you.

“Hobi…”

“I want to see you,” He whispered. “I want to see you for real.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock. “Shit, Hobi,” You said.

Hoseok stepped back, a crestfallen expression replacing his once happy face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Hobi, I want to see you, too!” You said, standing from your bed and taking his hands in yours. Hoseok looked at where you connected, absolutely loving the feeling of touching you, even though it didn’t feel all too real.

“Okay,” He said, squeezing your hand. “Okay.”

“I actually,” You paused, ducking your head. Hoseok moved his hand from your grasp and lifted your chin so that you were looking him in the eye. Hoseok smiled, and urged you to go on. “I bought tickets… to go see you in LA. I wanted to surprise you.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped, then his initial expression of shock was replaced with a blinding smile. “Oh, jagi,” He said, pulling you into an embrace.

It was overwhelming, feeling Hoseok’s entire body pressed up against yours. Like your body was tickling all over, in a wonderful way. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head into your hair. It had never occurred to you before how much taller he was.

But as quickly as he hugged you, Hoseok pulled away, a bashful smile on his lips. “Sorry,” He said.

“No, don’t be sorry,” You reached out and gently cupped his face. His eyes shined with adoration.

“I want to kiss you, but,” Hoseok paused. “I want to kiss you for real.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, Pam, here’s the deal,” You said, sliding into your therapist’s office with a Capri-Sun in one hand and a Slim Jim in the other. “Jim?” You jerked the treat towards the woman who sat across from you. She shook her head. “No, okay. Suit yourself- Anyways. I’m freaking the fuck out. And the last thing I need is for you to throw me in a mental hospital because I’ve got tickets to go see the love of my life this Friday, and there is no way in hell you’re going to ruin that for me.”

“Why would I throw you in a mental hospital, Y/N?”

“Because,” You began. “Because, what I’m about to tell you is going to make me batshit crazy.”

Pam uncrosses her legs in anticipation.

“Okay, so it all started when I was seven years old-” Pam’s expression lit up, and you could tell she was excited you were finally opening up to her about the mysterious boy you were seeing. “I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard music, and it was weird music - like, Korean, right. And I wake up, and there’s this boy in my bedroom, and I don’t know who he is. And he doesn’t know who I am, and we’re both confused, because all of a sudden I’m not in my room anymore. I’m in his room.”

“Was this, perhaps, a nightmare, Y/N?”

“What-no, this was real. I mean, after that, I started to dream about him, and I still dream about him, but I could tell when I saw him in my sleep and when I saw him when I was awake.”

“You saw this boy when you were awake?”

“Yes, I know, I know, you’re probably starting to think I’m some schizo, but I swear I’m not. I’m getting into the juicy part,” You pause to drink from your Capri-Sun. Pam looks at you with piqued curiosity. “I didn’t see him for several years after that. Then one day, in the sixth grade, I was in the locker room and he just… showed up. You can imagine what kind of reaction I had to seeing this boy from my nightmares in the locker room. I screamed… a lot. The other student’s thought I was going crazy. I scared the crap out of the poor guy. And then they sent me to the principal’s office because I had a mental breakdown and ‘was seeing things’ and they called my mom and the school therapist.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“Yeah, he was saying all sorts of things in Korean,” You slumped in your chair and eyed Pam. She was looking at you strange. “Anyways, school sucked after that, as I’ve told you before. The student’s spread rumors about how I was crazy, I didn’t have any friends, kids bullied me - the whole enchilada. The next time I saw him was when he was in school, and at that point we realized that this shit was real. So, I told my mom, which was a huge mistake. I love my mom, or, loved, whatever. She was trying to help me, but it was really fucking scary going to all of these psychiatrists and psychologists and therapists when you’re going through puberty and have, like, zero friends. And they’re all talking to me like I’m crazy, which I’m not! I was just a scared little kid.”

You paused, tucking your Slim-Jim into the pocket of your jean jacket, and slurping the last of the Capri-Sun. “I was fourteen when I first stayed at a mental hospital.”

“I remember,” Pam spoke, her voice soft. “And the boy?”

“Oh, right, him,” You sat up, leaning your elbows against your knees, and cupping your face in your palm. “We started talking after I saw him for, what, the third time? Even though we didn’t understand each other, we would talk to each other, about… stuff. He was nice. He grew up in Gwangju, in Korea. He loves to dance; he was in a dance crew when he was a kid. He was my only friend. I know that sounds pathetic, but he was. After everyone thought I was some crazy schizophrenic, I kind of became that person. Like, I became crazy, just because everyone told me I was. But he wasn’t scared of me.”

“Do you still speak to him?”

You nodded. “But he stopped speaking to me when I went into the mental hospital. He told me he was afraid that if the doctors continued to see me speaking to him they would only keep me there, so,” You paused, remembering the lonely nights in the hospital. You had lost your only friend, and you had begun to think that he also believed you were crazy. “He was two years older than me, and he had just auditioned to be an idol trainee, so he didn’t talk to me after I got out either, because he was so busy.”

“An idol trainee?”

“Yeah, he was always practicing dance and stuff. Sometimes I would see him, but he wouldn’t notice me.”

“When did he speak to you again?”

“I was fifteen, he was seventeen,” You began to explain. “This was just after my mom died, and I was living with my grandparents at their apartment. They had a pool, and I would go swimming alone a lot. It was the only time when they weren’t watching over me. I loved them, they were nice to me, but it felt the same as it was with my mom. I let them watch me, I let them think I was crazy, I took the pills they gave me.

“Anyways, so I was swimming, and then he showed up. At this point, I had started high school and was learning Korean, because, why not. I’d watch a lot of k-dramas and everyone thought I was a Koreabu. I still didn’t have a lot of friends, I still didn’t have him either.” You paused, remembering the day, the way you felt embarrassed in your swimsuit, in front of a seventeen year old boy. “He looked sad. I could tell he was pitying me. He told me he was sorry that my mom died. He told me he was there at the funeral, but I was to gone to notice.”

“I’m curious, Y/N,” Pam said. “Why did this start when you were seven years old?”

“Hold on, I’ll get to the theories when the story is over. I’m about to get into the really sexy stuff,” You continued. “Anyways, he told me that he experienced my grief, that his friends were really worried because he was always sad. It felt kind of cool to know someone else was experiencing what I was experiencing. I mean, I felt bad that he had to go through that because-”

“Because you tried to kill yourself?”

You winced when Pam mentioned it, but you supposed that you had set yourself up for that. “I had never seen him so scared…” You whispered, mostly to yourself.

You were sixteen and you had spent the past year trying to gather the willpower to cry over your mom’s death. Hoseok said it broke his heart to see you so… ambivalent about it. The therapy didn’t help, and a part of you wondered if your grandparents hated you because you didn’t grieve over the death of your mother. After that incident you stayed in the hospital for months, all the while Hoseok never left your side. But you didn’t speak to him, not until you were out, at least.

“Sometimes I wonder why he tolerates me.”

Pam didn’t say anything.

“Things were sort of normal after that. High school was a nightmare, but I made friends with some of the people I met in the hospital. Most of them died, so it was just me and him. My grandparents never worried too much about me because I’d pretend to be on the phone with my ‘friend from Korea’.” You laughed at that, and Pam smiled. “It had never occurred to us to see if we were really there, so one day I asked if I could Skype him. I was seventeen.”

Pam’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“And we did, and it was nice. We would email each other and stuff. He would send me pictures of his dog, Mickey. Fast forward a couple years later, he asked to see me in person, and I’m freaking the fuck out, Pam. I’m freaking out!”

Pam didn’t know what to say. She was stumped. Flabbergasted. This had been one roller coaster ride of a therapy session. A part of her genuinely wanted to believe you weren’t crazy, but the therapist inside of her was screaming at her that these were clear symptoms of a schizophrenic. “You mentioned you have tickets to-”

“Go see the love of my life, yes.”

“Is this that boy?”

“That man, Pam, and a delicious one too.”

Pam laughed awkwardly.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go see him?”

“You think I’m crazy,” You said. “You think this is all a figment of my imagination and I’m going to go see him and kidnap him and make a suit out of his skin? I can show you the pictures he sent me of his dog. They’re real.”

Pam said nothing, only shifting awkwardly in her seat.

“I’m not joking, Pam,” You said, pulling your phone out. “I have the receipts.”

Pam leaned forward when you brought up the text messages you shared with Hoseok. It was faulty evidence, it could have been just messages with another friend you were planning on meeting and teaming up with to skin this poor boy into a suit, but Pam decided to give you the benefit of the doubt, even if it meant risking her job.

“He’s an idol,” She stated, almost a little excited.

“Yeah, and you can’t tell anybody. You know, doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“I think maybe we should talk about your relationship with your father. It seems that this… connection with this boy started around the time your father left.”

You sat there, staring at Pam for what seemed like hours. “Yeah, I think that was enough for today.”

Hoseok was pacing. He was nervous, to say the least. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. You were going to see him, live, in concert. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to either of you before to do this. You had known each other for fifteen years, for fuck’s sake, and neither of you brought up meeting each other in person. Leave it to Yoongi to be the first one to suggest the idea. Of course, you admitted that you had wanted to go to one of his concerts before, but you could never afford a ticket, and so you never brought it up. But now, things had changed, you had started saving up since BTS’s popularity in America skyrocketed. Hoseok couldn’t be more nervous.

“Hoseok, calm down, bro,” Namjoon said from across the room, where he had been watching Hoseok pace back and forth for the past ten minutes.

“Yeah, the concert starts in half an hour. You don’t want to mess up because you’re nervous, do you?” Taehyung mentions. Namjoon shoots Taehyung a ‘shut up’ look, and Taehyung cowers in his seat. “Sorry,” He mumbles.

Hoseok hadn’t even thought about the concert, or the potential of messing up because his mind was on you, on where you were sitting, on how you were watching him, and how you had promised to meet him after the concert.

Hoseok had stopped pacing, his eyes locked on a spot on the floor. The others watched him with concern painted on all of their faces.

“Have you spoken with them since that night?” Jimin asked.

Of course the two of you had spoken. Not a day went by where you didn’t. Whether you woke up in the middle of the night because Hoseok was practicing or in the middle of an award show, or he woke up because you were singing along to a song playing in the supermarket. They always saw each other every day, even if sometimes it was just in passing because Hoseok was busy being an idol. And when they didn’t see each other, they were no doubt messaging each other.

“Yeah,” Hoseok paused to sit down, then promptly stood back up and continued pacing. The last you had spoken was last night, and since then you had sent him selfies of you getting ready for the concert, taking the bus to the concert, waiting in line for the concert. Hoseok wondered if you were nervous, too.

As if he read Hoseok’s thoughts, Jimin said, “Don’t worry, Hobi, I’m sure they’re nervous to see you too. They like you. It’s pretty obvious considering you guys were going to do it the other night-”

“It was just a kiss!”

Jimin held up his arms in mock defeat.

“What’s got you so worried, Hobi? Tell us,” Namjoon inquired.

Hoseok thought to himself, what has got him so worried? To be quite honest, he was absolutely terrified to see you. Before the two of you had nearly kissed, things were clear between the you - you were friends, best friends even. There were no lingering questions of ‘Do they like me back?’ ‘Are they only attracted to me?’ ‘Should I ask them out?’ Hoseok collapsed in his seat and stayed there.

“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” He muttered, much to the alarm of everyone else.

“Are you okay?” You said, standing in the corner.

“Yah!” Hoseok cried, spazzing out in his place.

The boys all jumped up in shock, Taehyung muttering under his breath, “He really has gone crazy.”

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok implores, turning to face you. The boys had seen Hoseok communicate with you before, years ago when it they were just beginning to discover about the connection. But what was once watching with worry at their potentially crazy Hobi was now watching with wonder at the astonishing bond between you two. The boys were always excited to see you and Hoseok talk, cooing over the way Hoseok always got flustered when he spoke with you. It was evident to anyone in the room that Hoseok liked you.

“I was kind of freaking out, and I hoped you were too, because I’m really nervous-” You said, playing with the hem of your shirt. Hoseok admired the way you looked today - you were dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with the word ANPANMAN written across the front. On your head was a headband decorated by two Mang plushies. You looked so goddamn cute Hoseok was blushing.

“I was nervous too,” Hoseok admitted.

“Nervous? He was about to shit himself,” Yoongi added, much to Hoseok’s dismay.

Hoseok glared at his friends, who were all laughing at him. He quickly ducked into the hallway, and, upon finding a bathroom, hid inside.

“Oh, are you going to finish what you started the other night, Hobi?”

“Yah! Y/N!” He complained, leaning against the sink. “I just wanted some privacy…”

“I know,” You said, your voice calm now that you were with Hoseok. “I was just joking.”

“Where are you?” Hoseok asked.

The scene shifted from the bathroom to the audience, where thousands of ARMYs were gathering to watch BTS perform in just a matter of minutes. Hoseok was startled, at first, but he found peace in the sound of your giggle. “You’re really here,” Hoseok whispered, caught in awe of the fans.

“Of course I am,” You answered. “I’m excited to see you.” You added with a shy smile.

Hoseok faced you, and in the crowd of fans, he only saw your face. He noticed you were holding your phone up to your ear, a habit you picked up to avoid the punishing stares of strangers. You saw Hoseok hesitating, so you continued. “You’re going to do great, Hobi. You always do. Fighting!”

Hoseok’s smile rivaled the sun, that you were absolutely positive about. “Did I ever tell you, you have the most beautiful smile?”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out and gently cupped your face with his hand, a smile on his own. “I love you.”

“What-”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hobi!” Namjoon called, and Hoseok was gone. “It’s time to go.”

You found yourself sitting alone, among the thousands of ARMYs. Hoseok had disappeared. The hand that was holding your phone fell to your lap. You stared at the back of the ARMY in front of you, but all you could see was Hobi, saying he loved you. You didn’t know how long you sat there, your jaw dropped until it began to ache. It didn’t even occur to you to contact Hoseok again. Before you knew it, the concert had begun.

You sat on the curb, tears still running down your cheeks. The concert ended minutes ago, and you had filed out of the stadium with the other ARMYs and into the streets. Now you waited, staring into your lap. You inhaled deeply, only to let out another sob. The concert - seeing Hoseok - had been overwhelming. But they were tears of joy, you told yourself. You were crying because you were happy you saw BTS, not because you were having a panic attack, not because you were worried Hoseok regretted what he had sad. He hadn’t contacted you since then, after all.

A dozen thoughts began to ring through your head, which was throbbing, when your phone dinged with a notification. It was a text message from Hoseok. You figured he must have been too busy to contact you, so he sent a message instead.

Hobi <3: I’m sorry.

You didn’t respond, confused by his message.

Hobi <3: I shouldn’t have said that. I know I messed up. If you don’t want to meet anymore, I understand.

Your heart began to race. What the fuck?

You: What the fuck, Hobi? Of course I want to see you.

You sent the message. Not a second later you began typing furiously.

You: Did you mean what you said?

Of course you loved Hoseok. You’d known the son of a bitch since you were seven, and what began as a crush when you were in middle school developed into something more over the fifteen years you knew each other. He was your best friend, and you loved him. You loved his smile. You loved how he was sunshine incarnate. You loved how he wasn’t afraid to be sad around you like he was afraid to be in front of others. You loved how he made you laugh. How he made you smile. How he made you feel. You loved him.

Hobi <3: ...yes.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You: I love you, too.

Hobi <3: Oh thank God!

Hobi <3: I mean- Can I see you?

You tucked your phone away and shut your eyes. It was always easy contacting Hobi when you were calm, or, in some cases, in a state of absolute panic.

There was no one around you. The nearest crowd of people were maybe fifty feet away, so it was relatively easy to hear to gasp Hoseok let out when he saw you, sitting on the curb. You opened your eyes, and saw him standing before you, still dressed in the pair of jeans and white t-shirt he had been wearing at the end of the concert.

“Hey,” You said.

“Hi,” He replied, a bid out of breath.

“Where are you?”

Suddenly you weren’t outside the stadium anymore. You were inside, in a dark hallway. You could see the boys walking down the hall. One of them, Jungkook, stopped to stare at Hoseok. “What’s up, bro? Why are you just standing- Oh,” He paused to look at where Hoseok was staring. “You’re talking to Y/N. Sorry.”

“You can talk to Y/N later, we gotta go, Hobi,” Yoongi whined from Hoseok’s side. “I want to get back to the hotel and eat.”

“Right, the hotel,” Hoseok turned to you. “When can we meet?”

You shrugged.

“Stay where you are, I’ll find you,” And he was gone.

You drew your knees up to your chest and watched as Hoseok hurried down to hall, jogging past the other boys. Hoseok rushed towards a set of double doors, pushing through them and into the parking lot. There were vans waiting to take the boys home, and they promptly filed into them. Hoseok slid into the passenger seat of one of the vans and turned towards its driver - his manager. He pleaded with Sejin-hyung to help him find you, which you enjoyed watching immensely. The way Hoseok awkwardly kowtowed in the cramped passenger seat, repeating how, “I have to see her, Sejin-hyung. She’s the love of my life,” had you smiling from ear to ear. Sejin relented with a loud groan, and started the car.

Jin, Yoongi and Namjoon sat in the back, while the maknaes had piled into the other van and were promptly following them as they drove through the parking lot in search of you, sitting somewhere on a curb watching cat videos while you waited.

Hoseok stayed alert, his eyes darting across the parking lot in search of you. “You know,” Yoongi broke the silence that had settled over the van. Sejin-hyung had stopped complaining about Hoseok and his love life some time ago. “The fans might see us and crowd the car if we keep driving around the parking lot. Shouldn’t you guys meet later, like, at the hotel?” He ended his statement with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Hoseok ignored Yoongi, and Namjoon smacked him on the arm, and Sejin-hyung responded with, “Aish, you boys stress me out.”

Yoongi was right, because not a second later a wave of ARMYs descended upon the van. Sejin cursed out loud, stopping the van, and Hoseok began to whine. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

Meanwhile, your attention was caught by a van pulling up in front of you, its door sliding open.

“Hey, Hobi,” Jin called from the back. Hoseok hardly listened, instead sliding down in his seat with a cry. “I’m on the phone with Jimin-hyung. They just picked up Y/N and are heading to the hotel.”

“WHAT!” Hoseok spun around in his seat, screeching at the top of his lungs. “If Y/N is stuck in a van with those clowns they’re going to scare her off-”

“Wait, hold on, there is no way I’m letting you bring a girl back to the hotel, Hobi. I don’t care if she’s the love of your life-” Sejin went on.

“Oh come on, Sejin-hyung,” Yoongi continued. “The poor guy stayed a virgin his whole damn life because he’s in love with this girl. Give him a break.”

“Yoongi-hyung!” Hobi cried.

The ride to the hotel was a hoot. Jungkook was more than ecstatic to practice his English with you, and Taehyung and Jimin had more than enough questions about you and your relationship with Hoseok-hyung to last the entire car ride to the hotel. Jin stayed on the phone with the boys, having questions himself, and refused to let Hoseok speak with you because, “You’ve spoken with her for the past fifteen years, Hobi, give us a chance.” And when the boys learned that you were fluent in Korean, the embarrassing stories of Hoseok commenced.

Meanwhile, Hoseok drowned in misery in the passenger seat of his van, all while listening to Jin’s windshield wiper laugh every now and then, and, on occasion, an embarrassing story that had Hoseok reaching over the van to swipe at Jin.

Your van was the first to arrive at the hotel, having left the stadium before Hoseok’s. You insisted the boys go up to their rooms to rest, that you would wait in the lobby to meet Hoseok, but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“It’s so great that you’re real and Hoseok isn’t crazy,” Taehyung spoke, cuddling up against you. Jimin sat to your right, and Jungkook was sitting across from you. The other van had been caught in traffic, so the four of you, plus some staff, were waiting in the hotel lobby.

“I can’t wait to tell my therapist. She thought I was crazy too. If she didn’t love me so much she wouldn’t have let me come to the concert,” You added.

The boys laughed, and you joined them.

“You know, Hoseok is really in love with you,” Jimin said, resting his head on your shoulder. “He won’t shut up about you.”

You smiled madly at that, your mind wandering back to Hoseok. The entire car ride had been spent talking about you, so you hadn’t really thought of him enough to form a connection. But then there he was, sitting next to Jungkook, wringing his hands together. You didn’t say anything, only smiled at him. Hoseok looked up at you, and returned the smile.

“Y/N!” Jin yelled, barreling towards you. Namjoon and Yoongi entered behind Jin. Before you could search for Hoseok, you were blinded by Jin’s broad shoulders, his arms wrapped around you. “I’m so glad to finally meet my daughter-in-law!”

“Jin, what the fuck?” Yoongi said, standing next to Jungkook.

“What, it’s obvious Hoseok and Y/N are going to get married. I mean, he did save himself for-”

“Where is Hobi, by the way!” Jimin cut Jin off, much to Jin’s displeasure. Everyone turned towards the entrance, where Hoseok stood, wide-eyed and staring at you. You felt the pressure of the room, but you also felt the electricity of being in Hoseok’s proximity, something you haven’t known for the past fifteen years. It was different at the concert. You had mistaken that weird sensation for seeing your favorite idol in concert for the first time, that giddy feeling you get when you attend the concert of your favorite group. But being in the same room with Hoseok was… surreal, and it almost scared you that touching him would be even more.

“Let’s leave these two love birds alone,” Jin said, breaking the silence. But to you and Hoseok, every noise, every movement apart from each other, did not exist. It was just the two of you in that hotel lobby.

When the boys had moved towards the elevators, still silently watching you, you opened your mouth to speak, but Hoseok beat you to it.

“You look nice today!” He blurted. “I mean, you always look nice. I forgot to mention it...before.” His eyes trailed across your face, lingering on your lips which he so desperately wanted to kiss, and finally resting on your eyes.

You smiled, “You look nice too, Hobi. You look handsome.”

Hoseok giggled, he fucking giggled.

“So,” You began. “Is it true what they said, that you’re a virgin?”

Hoseok’s face grew a dozen shades of red. He began to splutter, and it took him a moment to form a coherent sentence. “You heard that?”

“Jimin told me,” You said, hiking your bag further up your shoulder.

“I’m going to kill Jimin.”

Of course you always wondered if Hoseok was a virgin. When you were young and curious, you thought about Hoseok a lot in that way. To be honest, you were quite shocked when Jimin told you he was twenty five and still a virgin. The two of you knew nearly everything about each other, but not this. You had spoken about sex before, when you were young and exploring your bodies. But truth be told, you had no friends to experiment with, and Hoseok was busy being an idol trainee, so the two of you painfully stayed virgins. And you were both in love with each other. You knew why you had never had sex - you had avoided relationships because you told yourself it wouldn’t be an honest relationship if your partner didn’t know about your connection with Hoseok, and you promised yourself to tell no one ever again about that. You avoided one-night stands and hookups because even being intimate with some stranger for a brief moment gave you anxiety. Call you old fashioned but you wanted your first time to be special, and you only imagined that with someone you loved, you only imagined it with Hoseok. So you had resigned to the thought of staying a virgin for God knows how long, because you knew you would never fall in love with anyone else. But then an opportunity presented itself, and a part of you wanted to get it over with, because you imagined Hoseok had lost his virginity to some pretty girl. You remember the night you had the chance to lose your virginity to one of your close friends quite clearly. You were drunk and overwhelmed. You went home alone and had a panic attack. Hoseok was there. He was there. And it occurred to you, as Hoseok held you, that you couldn’t lose your virginity to anyone else, not when you were in love with him.

“I’m a virgin, too.” You said after a long pause.

Hoseok looked up at you, perplexed. He wanted to say that he was relieved, that he was glad you hadn’t had sex with anyone else. But it occurred to him that maybe you didn’t want to have sex with him either.

“Oh,” He said. “Why?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but answered it nonetheless. “A lot of reasons. But I think… it was because I wanted to lose my virginity to you.”

Again, Hoseok’s face became all sorts of red. “M-me?”

You nodded. “I love you, Hoseok. I’ve loved you for a long time, and before it was silly, because I figured I would never meet you for real. But, here we are…”

“Right,” Hoseok swallowed. “Here we are.”

“In a hotel,” You added. “Where you have a hotel room.”

“Shit,” Hoseok gasped. “Right, yeah, my hotel room!”

Hoseok began to flounder, so you took the opportunity to move towards him. In an instant purely fueled by adrenaline and the urge to get it over with, you kissed him. Hoseok froze, your touch electrifying him. You pulled away, a worried expression on your face. But your panic was cut short when Hoseok pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his lips against yours. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his heavy heartbeat against your chest, or maybe that was yours. You could feel him.

The kiss turned heated, Hoseok eager to slip his tongue into your mouth and explore it, to taste you, to feel you. His hands began to wander down your sides, down your back. You could feel his hardness against your hip, and it had you pulling away. You pressed your forehead against his, brushing your noses together, and gasped for breath.

“Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

Hoseok nodded fervently, looking deep into your eyes. He gave your butt a quick pat, before tugging you towards the elevators, where you continued your heated kiss, all the way to Hoseok’s floor.

But a thought occurred to you, and you pulled away from Hoseok’s grasp. He whined, and watched as you pulled your phone out. “But first, let me send a selfie of us to my therapist. Show that bitch for doubting me.”

Hoseok smiled into the camera, then placed a wet kiss against your cheek. You giggled at the sensation, and quickly sent the picture to Pam. Hoseok pulled out his own phone when it dinged.

Jinnie: I slipped a condom under your door, Hobi. Safe sex is important!

You sat at the foot of Hoseok’s bed, in your underwear. The TV was on and you mindlessly stared at it, but your mind was elsewhere. It was with Hoseok, who was in the bathroom washing his face. When he emerged from the bathroom, your face lit up, and it made him smile that sunshine smile.

“Hello, my love,” You said, stretching your arms out towards him. Hoseok gladly walked into your embrace, bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head while you wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing your nose against his stomach, enjoying the way the taut muscle felt under your cheek, you inhaled his scent. He still smelled of sex, and a little bit of his cologne, and a whole lot like Hobi.

Hoseok placed his hands on the sides of your face, gently tilting your head to look up at him. The way he touched you was always so soft, so gentle, as though he were afraid you would crack. You, on the other hand, touched him as though you were afraid he would drift away. You supposed that was what you were each afraid of.

“Jagiya,” Hoseok spoke. “Will you be mine?”

The biggest grin took over your face. “Hell yeah, I’m yours. Hobi,” You whined. “I love you.”

Hobi pressed you down onto the mattress, straddling your hips, and commenced placing wet kisses all over your face. You giggled, gripping his waist. “Hobi!”

Hobi stopped, hovering over you, a toothy smile on his face. “I love you,” He said. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Hoseok leaned down to kiss you. It was sweet and soft, and it made your insides all warm and fuzzy.

You stared into each other’s eyes, and it was a feeling beyond any you have ever felt, to have him there, in your arms, to be looking into his eyes and seeing that the love he felt for you was real. Hoseok was real. Your love was real. Pam can eat shit for doubting you.

#j-hope #hoseok #hoseok bts #j-hope bts #j-hope oneshot #hoseok oneshot #bts oneshot #hoseok x female reader #hoseok x male reader #j-hope x female reader #j-hope x male reader #j-hope x reader

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honeycoloredcorduroy · 6 years

Text

Cakes and Ties - Part 3

Title: Cakes and Ties

Summary: “Logan Sanders is a divorce lawyer given the task of being his twin brother Roman's best man for his wedding. He doesn't care for the endeavor much, although Roman's fiance, Virgil, seems kind enough. Everything is going smoothly until he meets the peppy, sweet-as-can-be cake baker Patton given the task of being Virgil's best man. He's adorable, irresistible, and excites Logan in a way that he hasn't felt since the accident.”

Ships: Romantic Logicality, Romantic Prinxiety

Word Count: 1753

Warnings: Minor character death, mild alcohol consumption (in future chapters), swearing, food, divorce

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

Three Weeks Before the Wedding

Despite Picani's pep talk, I continued to hope with every fiber of my being that I would be able to avoid Patton as much as possible. I mean, sure, he would be at the wedding, but I could avoid him for the most part, right?

Wrong.

Since he was Virgil's best man, he was around 24/7, helping to keep everything running smoothly (and also to prevent Virgil from having an anxiety attack, but that was neither here nor there.) He and I spent the majority of our time together, planning and organizing and helping the ever-flamboyant couple choose color schemes that they'd inevitably change within the hour. I had to admit, being around him was quite nice, and having a friend could be beneficial, but I had decided that nothing more could come of it. I couldn't have another relationship, not after what happened before.

But, nonetheless, I had decided that spending time around the overexcited baker wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Today was the only exception to his constant company since he had stayed to work at his bakery this morning. Roman and Virgil understood since they didn't have much to accomplish today and Patton still had a business to run. I had stayed behind, helping a very anxious Virgil pick out flowers.

"So, do you think Roman would like the lilies or the roses more? Because he gave me roses on our first date, but lilies were the flowers he gave me at the restaurant when he proposed."

I sighed. Loudly.

"Virgil, aren't you overthinking this just a little bit?"

He chuckled and nodded, "Roses it is."

I took a note of his choice in my binder I had been carrying around to stay organized. Just as I did, I heard my phone ring in my pocket. I pulled it out and read that it was an unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered the call tentatively.

"Hey, is this Logan?" I heard Patton's sugary voice echo through the phone speaker. He sounded nervous, almost panicked, "Roman gave me your number a few days ago in case of an emergency."

"Yes, this is Logan. Is everything alright?"

"Well... I kind of have an emergency."

"What is it?"

"It's a funny story, actually," he mumbled, "I completely forgot about an order someone sent in yesterday, and now I have to bake five dozen cookies in the next hour and I really need some help. I'm sorry if I'm being a bother, I didn't know who else to call."

I considered it for a moment and chuckled lightly, "You're not bothering me. And I believe that Virgil and I just finished what we had to get done for the day. I can be over there in... about 25 minutes."

"Can you make it any sooner?"

I looked down at my wrinkled work shirt and coffee-stained khakis, "If you have a change of clothes for me, I can avoid stopping at home and be there in ten."

"Done," he responded, "I'll see you then."

He hung up the phone and I told Virgil that I had to take off.

He chuckled and leaned back in his seat, "Don't let me stop you. Go to him, lover boy."

I growled at him, "I do not have a crush on Patton if that is what you're implying."

"I never said anything about a crush."

I huffed weakly. Not really angry, but not wanting to let Virgil know that, I shut the door of his apartment and hurried to my car.

Ten minutes later

I pulled into the parking lot of Patty Cakes and practically leaped out of the car. I pushed the door open to hear loud noises coming from the kitchen. I burst in to find Patton on the floor, an empty cookie sheet on his torso and flour smeared across his apron.

"Help" was all he said, and I ran over to pick him up off the ground, chuckling.

"How's it going?"

"Terrible. The first batch I tried to make while panicking ended up being burnt. and now I have to make more dough.

"How can I help?"

He smiled at me faintly in his dazed state, "You can go get changed into something easier to move around in," he pointed to a chair with a change of clothes set on top of it, "I hope those fit, Virgil left them here when he moved out."

I picked up the outfit, it consisted of a light gray t-shirt and black skinny jeans. A blue apron sat at the bottom of the pile.

"You can change in there," he pointed to a bathroom at the left wall of the bakery. I smiled and stepped away.

I quickly shut the door, pulled my clothes off, and within a minute I was dressed. The outfit was a bit tight, but nothing too unbearable. I pulled the apron over my head, tying it neatly around my waist.

I opened the door and walked back to Patton, "What do you think?" I asked sarcastically, not expecting him to actually respond.

He didn't need to respond verbally for me to see that he had an opinion about my current attire. His gaze shifted up and down slowly like he was seeing me for the first time. It felt intimate, even though it was probably just unusual to see me dressed like this. I felt my cheeks go red and I shuffled my feet.

I didn't know if I liked it or not. On the bright side, it made butterflies fill my stomach. On the downside, it made butterflies fill my stomach.

"Get it together, Logan," I thought to myself.

I coughed into my hand, and saw Patton physically snap out of whatever about me was holding his attention.

"What are you waiting for, Pat? Let's get baking."

Over the next hour, we both ran around the already crowded kitchen, making cookies at lightning speed. Once I got the hang of it, it became much easier and Patton and I fell into a pattern. He would make the dough and I would ball it up on the tray and put them in the oven to bake.

Before I knew it, we were boxing up the cookies and Patton was selling them to whoever ordered them. He waved goodbye to the customer and stepped back into the kitchen.

"You know, you're pretty good at baking," he said with his signature kind smile, "I'd love to have someone helping me out every once in a while."

I smiled at him weakly, exhausted from the hour of baking, "If I wasn't in the middle of a heated divorce case, I'd honestly love to quit my job right now and come bake with you every day. Today was... really fun. Even if I couldn't do it very frequently or as a permanent career, I'd love to come here sometime again to bake with you."

He lit up again, he looked so happy at the thought of me working with him. I was being completely honest with him, too. I hated being a divorce lawyer. Everyone was always so hostile. I then let a crazy idea slip into my mind momentarily.

"Why not quit your job and bake with him?"

I thought about it for only an instant before finding every visible flaw in the plan. First of all, I barely knew him. Despite spending practically every waking moment together in the past few weeks, and staying up late watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reruns together every night, I wasn't ready to give up my entire career for him.

Although I had promised myself I wouldn't get too close to the boy, I couldn't help but learn more and more about him. I found out that he was 28, and used to be Virgil's roommate until Virgil moved in with Roman. Now he lives alone in the apartment above the bakery with his over-excited golden retriever named Cupcake and a bazillion houseplants. He wanted to be a weatherman as a child, but after an incident a few years ago, he chose differently. He had seemed so sad when he talked about his decision, and I had no idea why.

Well, I wanted to learn more about him, so why not ask?

"Why did you decide to become a baker anyways?" I blurted out almost accusingly. He jumped slightly at my outburst, but after he had processed my question, he sighed and brushed his curls out of his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to know? I'm a pretty terrible storyteller, and it's honestly kind of depressing."

I nodded eagerly, "Of course, I'm sure it'll be a great story if it's coming from you."

He sighed, hesitated, and began, "When I was a kid, my dad wasn't around all that much. Not because of anything bad, he just had to work late most days. And so my mom and I would spend our weekends baking, since we didn't have anything better to do and because it was a relatively cheap hobby that made my mom happy."

He paused to breathe, "She would always ask me to try some new, wacky recipe. It didn't always go as planned, but I never really minded too much. I was just happy to be around her."

He looked down and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his apron, "She passed away a few years ago. She had problems with her heart her whole life, and she was pretty old, so my dad and I knew it was coming." His voice cracked on the last word of his sentence, and I felt my heart jolt.

"When we were going through her things after she died, I found her old recipe book and decided to open up this shop. Patty Cakes was the nickname she gave me when I was little, and I thought, what better way to honor her, right? I thought that maybe, if these recipes made her so happy, then maybe they would make everyone else happy too."

He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, just now noticing the few tears that slipped from his eyes, "Sorry for getting all sappy on you, I'm not usually this emotional about it."

I shook my head, "No, don't be sorry. I'm always here to listen. Besides, you're really good at storytelling."

He smiled a little and nudged my arm, "Awe, you're too sweet."

I smiled back, growing less and less fearful of being around him. I wasn't sure what it was about him, but I couldn't help the feelings I had for him. Who knows, maybe falling in love with him wouldn't be so awful after all.

"What the hell are you thinking?" I thought to myself, "You can't do this again. Not after everything."

I considered it for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, I could open up again.

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cosmicmadwoman · 7 years

Text

Adam and Eve Chapter Eight: Ghost of High School’s Past

Summary: The Jones men find out the truth about Scott, Betty looks in Cheryl’s closet.

Rated: M

Word Count: 4565

Note: This chapter doesn’t move the plot forward much, just a little treat for FP/Alice shippers. Next chapter will start to reveal some stuff!

Alice clenched her hands together and waited patiently for her daughters’ responses. Their wheels were turning, she may be a tough mother but she knows her kids; Betty balled her hands into fists and Polly lifted her head to the ceiling with her mouth agape when they thought intensely.

Before this very moment, she never admitted out loud that the son she gave birth to at age sixteen was not her high school sweethearts, but the tired, sad and lost boy from the Southside. He was that one piece of her that she couldn’t shake when she tried to desperately to leave behind where to grew up and migrate to the middle class of Riverdale. Hal was her ticket out, but FP, the dark haired boy that smelled like cigarettes and campfires, always reminded her of home.

When Betty brought home Jughead Jones, Alice couldn’t help but smile sadistically at the irony. Jones boys always had a way with the Cooper women, Alice thought.

The girls must have noticed her smirk, because Betty pressed, “Why are you smiling? Is this funny to you?”

Alice shook her head and looked at Betty’s green eyes, mirrors of her own, and now; her daughter knew just how alike they really were. She tried to keep eye contact with her, but the watering eyes of her daughter broke her heart. “No, it’s not funny. It’s a mistake I made as a teenager, cheating on you father. It’s something I’ve had to live with.”

“Does dad know?” Polly asked softly.

“No,” Alice answered quickly, “and I would like us to keep it that way. We are just putting the broken pieces of are family back together. It won’t make a difference now anyway. No need to drudge up the past.”

“Drudge up the past? Scott isn’t ‘a past.’ He’s a person. Speaking of which, FP is a person too. He deserves to know he has another son out there,” Betty said.

“You propose I visit him in jail?” Alice’s tone was mocking, but Betty nodded.

“And I have to tell Jughead,” Betty said determined, standing up and grabbing her coat from the hanger in the hallway connected to the sitting room. Alice stood up with her and followed her closely, her chunky heels clacking behind Betty like an axe murderer on a summer camp counselor.

“This is not your secret to tell, Elizabeth. Do not get Jughead involved,” Alice spoke firmly.

“Jughead has a brother. We share a brother. I’m telling him and there’s nothing you can say to stop me,” Betty challenged her mother, the two blond woman stepping closer to one another, the strong rigid jaws of their anger waiting to see who would crack first.

“If you leave this house, you’re not welcome back,” Alice whispered gruffly.

Betty’s eyes flickered with fear and disappointment, how could her mother abandon another one of her children? Like it was so easy? But Betty prided herself on doing the right thing and despite the old wise tale that your parents always knew what was right, Alice was full of hate and rage Betty would never understand.

“I’ll send you a forwarding address,” Betty pursed her lips in a tight line to suppress her quivering lip. “I’ll pack a bag and be out of your hair.”

Betty bounded upstairs and Polly, hearing everything, ran after her, calling her name with a throaty whine.

She gathered only the essentials, clothes for a few days, toothbrush, deodorant and makeup, all flinging them into her paisley patterned overnight bag. Polly crashed into the room and wrapped around her from behind, almost like she was tying Betty in a straightjacket in attempts to stop her.

“Don’t leave me,” Polly begged and Betty felt a warm tear soak through the shoulder of her pale colored sweater.

Betty turned to her sister and her shoulders, “I don’t want to, Polly. But Jughead deserves to know. FP deserves to know. Jellybean too. Mom will come to her senses, just like when you were living at the Blossom house. Don’t worry, Pol. I’ll be back for Christmas,” Betty gave her a shaky smile, only half believing her words.

Polly nodded, “You are right. I remember how I felt when Mom told me… tell him. I support you.”

The two hugged, it was a deep, soul penetrating hug of understanding and being a little too grown up for their age. Polly left and Betty went with her bag slung around her arm to sneak into Cheryl’s room. She didn’t know for how long she would be gone and she had one more thing to do. On her knees, Betty waded through hundreds of shoeboxes in what used to be Polly’s closet, until she reached a shiny red box labeled prétentieux. She didn’t know what she was expecting when she flipped open the lid, blood overflowing from the top maybe, but instead, there was nothing. Mysteries were always full of dead ends.

Betty flicked off the light and passed her mother in the hall, going through the door with her phone in her hand, already texting Jughead: are you at the trailer?

Yeah, how did things go with your brother? His response came quickly like he was waiting for updates.

I need to come see you. I’ll be over in 10. Betty put her phone back on her pocket, not wanting to have him ask and having to explain just what the hell was going on over text. He deserved better than that. He deserved better than all of this.

Polly walked to her mother who still stood at the door, frozen watching Betty walk down the sidewalk and out of view.

“I hoped you would have learned better than to kick your children to the curb when you can’t handle them anymore,” Polly said in her ear, the words ringing painful and Alice’s brain.

Alice didn’t turn, so Polly went up the stairs and slammed the door loudly enough, making sure it’s wooden bang rang throughout the house and into her mother’s pounding head. She didn’t flinch. Alice Cooper had spent her entire life running from the Southside and what it contained, the crushed dreams, the dreariness and depression; but all of those things consumed her no matter wherever she filed her taxes, Southside blood ran in her veins.

The Cooper matriarch didn’t tell anyone she was leaving the house, not that anyone would care. She alienated everything she worked for, two beautiful daughters and a husband with enough money to give her security. And yet, just like that night her and Hal asked her to go steady, she found herself running back to FP.

Sheriff Keller was surprised to see Alice inquiring about FP Jones and wanting to see him. Everything to write for the paper had already be written surrounding FP and his involvement in Jason Blossom’s murder. But Alice Cooper being Alice Cooper, she just have a charming, stepford smile and Keller is compelled to trust her.

FP was lying on his flat mattress and it looked like he was reading something. The paperback was curled in his hands and Alice tickled her knuckles against the bars to get his attention. His dark eyebrows quirked and he sat up in a manner that made Alice feel like he was trying to impress her with straight posture.

“Welcome to my home, Mrs. Cooper,” FP sweeped his hands in a grand gesture around the concrete cell and stood up to lean on the bars in front of her. She stepped back slightly a smooth her floral blazer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Alice pulled the folding chair from the corner to sit in front of the bars and sat before him. “I want to play a memory game,” Alice began, “I’m going to say a date and you tell me what happened that day.”

“Is this an interrogation?” FP smirked from above her and grasped the bars. Alice noticed the muscles in his forearms straining and his calloused hands.

“I love games, FP. You of all people should remember that,” Alice said. FP stayed silent and shifted his weight to his left foot.“May 31st, 1994.”

The dark haired man snorted and shrugged, “I don’t know. 1994 is the year we graduated.”

“Correct. It’s the day we graduated,” Alice confirmed. “May 14th, 1992.”

“This is crazy, woman.”

“Hal’s senior prom, where you caught us two fighting and decided that was alright to mention to my child,” Alice answered for him.

“You’re here about that?”

There was a long pause and Alice swallowed a lump in her throat before she said, “February 29th, 1992.”

FP suddenly crouched down and looked her in the eye, level with her darkened gaze, “Why are you bringing that night up now?”

He remembered. She could tell my the boyish look in his eye bringing her back to that night.

–

Alice was just asked to be Hal Cooper’s girlfriend she should’ve been over the moon and around the stars, but instead she felt a hollowness. And maybe it was the fear of unfamiliarity, and maybe it was a grasp for a past she wanted to rid herself from, but she found herself at the Jones trailer at the other side of the park. And there she found FP Jones, opening the door to greet her in ripped jeans and no shirt.

“Wanna hit the playground?” Alice asked, leaning on the door frame. She could hear the faint arguing of his parents in their corner room in the background. He closed the door gently behind him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with that dink Cooper tonight? The whole park is talking about how one of us is going with a rich boy,” FP’s face showed disgust and Alice smirked at his display of possible jealousy.

“He dropped me off already,” Alice replied, her eyes trailing down his naked chest. Northside boys were hot too, but they’ll never have the rugged darkness and sexiness Southside boys had. “I’m his girlfriend now.”

FP shrugged, “Okay.”

“I think we should go drink at the playground like we used to,” Alice offered.

The kids in the trailer park hung out together a lot of the time, especially growing up as they were all so close in proximity and age. FP and Alice were never best friends or anything, but they spent enough time together where the request was only odd because it would just be the two of them.

“One last time before you move to the darkside?” FP chuckled at his joke, all of Riverdale believed the Southside was the dark side, not the North.

“Something like that.”

“Give me a sec.” FP slipped back into the trailer and she heard soft clanking; probably stealing from his parent’s liquor stash. They always had enough. He reemerged with a bottle of tequila, a shirt and a grin. He was still wearing his slippers when they started walking to the playground at the edge of the park.

It was nothing grand, there was a swing set, metal monkey bars and wooden tunnels that sat on top of a crumbling structure. The town never vowed to clean it up like the Northside playground when it was unsafe.

The teens climbed wordlessly up to the top of the monkey bars and sat with their feet dangling below them. It was cloudy that night with no stars hanging in the sky. FP untwisted the tequila cap and took a swig, noticeably trying to hide a wince. He passed it to Alice who did the same.

“Let’s play a game,” Alice offered, taking one more slug before passing it back between FP. She couldn’t help but think her lips touched where his just were.

FP scoffed, “What are we? Five?”

“Truth or dare.”

A deviant smirk crept up onto FP’s young, fresh face. “Oh. That kind of game. You have a boyfriend now, Ms. Alice, you shouldn’t be playing naughty games with boys from the trailer park.” FP liked the age-old sin of coveting your neighbor’s wife, especially when your neighbor was a middle class white yuppie and his girlfriend was hot and her hair was golden like a wheat field. He may have the money, but he was sure Alice and Hal never talked like this to one another.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Alice shrugged. “So, truth or dare FP Jones.”

FP looked thoughtful for a moment and replied, “Truth.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Boring. Okay, tell me, how many girls have you had sex with?”

“Two,” FP answered slowly, gaging Alice’s reaction, and it was unimpressed and disbelieving. “Okay, fine, one. This girl Gladys. Her parents just moved to the park and she’s pretty and we got to kissing and talking and it happened. I’ve seen her around, but she doesn’t look at me.”

“So you’ve only had sex once,” Alice giggled. “Hal and I must have done it a million times by now.”

“Shut up. It’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Alice leaned in closer to FP, smelling his summer scented soap mixed with cigarettes.

“Dare,” her voice was low and heavy with expectation.

What was this girl going for? She finally had her ticket out of this hellhole and she was slinking back into it with. Was she going to kiss him? What did she want him to say?

“Kiss me,” FP grumbled hotly.

Alice felt his breath on her he was so close. She held onto the bars behind her when she pushed her body forward to kiss him. It wasn’t a peck, but a lip crushing, eyes-squeezing-shut kind of kiss. FP still had the bottle in his hands but moved it to his lap so he could grab her face and keep her there just a little longer. Hal must have taken her to Pop’s for their date because she tasted like ketchup. They eventually broke apart and Alice wiped her mouth. Her eyes were dark and wild.

“Let’s get off of here. You’re going to have sex with me,” Alice said and climbed down.

“I’m going to what?” FP clutched the alcohol tighter; he needed more liquid courage to be as brave as her. But she gave him a look, hands on her hips, and he decided this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be with someone as beautiful as her, and he wasn’t going to sit idle as life passed him by like his parents. He dropped the bottle down for her to catch and hopped off, “Yeah, I’m going to have sex with you.”

It was late February, technically March if it wasn’t a leap year, so the ground was cold but there was no snow. Fp peeled off his jacket, he was fucking cold already, but he laid it down on the patch of gravel under the monkey bars and Alice laid down on it immediately. FP pressed his body on top of her and she groaned, loving the feel the unfamiliar weight of a different man on her. He kissed her tenderly at first, slowly, wanting to feel every crevice of her mouth and lips and drink her in like fine wine, not cheap tequila; but Alice wanted none of that. She bucked her hips upward, earning a moan from FP, and wrapped her legs around him tightly.

She kissed him back aggressively, taking control of the rhythm. She brought her hands under his shirt and on his bare back, feeling the rigid muscles tense and relax as his body went through sensory overload. She pulled his shirt over his head and his body tightened with the cold air.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up,” Alice snickered and flipped them over.

She undid the button of his jeans and slid them down, his boxers following. He hissed when his cock hit the cool air, but Alice bent and took him in her mouth swiftly. He automatically let out a throaty growl and she bobbed up and down, her warm mouth cradling him. He pushed back the hair falling in front of her face and made a ponytail with his fist so he could watch her. She took him expertly and he wondered why she was wasting her time on him. She gagged and pulled back.

“You’re so much bigger than Hal, but don’t tell anyone I said that, obviously,” Alice grinned and kissed his chest right near his heart. She got off up him and sheds her tights and rolls up her body conforming skirt.

“I’m going to touch you,” FP warned gently, asking permission but also wanting to be affirmative, and dipped a finger into her panties and was surprised by how wet she was. Her heat was pulling him and he inserted his middle finger inside of her, causing her hips to rise and meet his finger’s thrusts. He took his other handed and tweaked her nipples under her coat but through her thin shirt underneath. With him still inside, he circled his thumb around the nub he only read about in his dad’s Playboy magazines. He must have learned something important, because Alice was jelly underneath his touch and she growled out his name and flooded his finger with her cum.

“Shit, FP, you’re good with your fingers,” Alice sighed, “I’ve… that’s never happened to me before.”

The black haired teen smiled widely and rolled back on top of her, pinning her to the cool ground. They wiggled awkwardly back onto the jacket and Alice shimmied out of her panties. He took the head of his cock and ran it along her inner lips, teasing her until she grabbed ahold of his length and pushed it inside of her. They both groaned at the contact. FP started to move before giving her any time to adjust. His hips were wild and against hers; he was rough and unrefined and it made Alice’s toes tingle.

“Fuck, I’m not wearing a condom,” FP panicked and tried to stop his thrusts, but he was so close he could already feel the tightening in his balls.

“Just pull out,” Alice recommend breathlessly.

She had never not worn a condom with Hal before, but Mary Andrews said her and Fred did it all the time without condoms; she just had him pull out when he was going to cum. She hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. FP pulled out a second later and shot his liquid onto the ground beside them. He quickly put his shirt back on and pulled up his pants, feeling the cold once again. Alice put herself back together, too.

“Goodbye, Forsythe,” she smiled and left, not wanting him to walk her home. That goodbye was to her childhood and to the Southside that built her. She didn’t look back or wait to hear him say anything back.

–

The silence in the room was obvious because they were both reminiscing. FP was the first to speak, “Has Hal learned how to make you cum yet?”

“FP, this is serious. You didn’t wear a condom. And, well, fuck how do I even say this?” Alice stood up and bit the edge of her nail, staring at the ground.

“Just say it,” the man’s voice sounded small and scared.

“Hal and I argued because I was pregnant. I’m sure you overheard that. I gave him, the baby, up for adoption. Hal didn’t know the whole story, though, and neither did you. I was nervous about that night we had sex, because the time frame lined up, so I took a paternity test at the hospital just to make sure,” Alice explained, her chest tightening. She never thought this would be something she had to do.

FP shook his head and his face scrunched up just like Jughead’s when he was trying to hold tears in. “Say it out loud, Alice.”

“You have a son, with me, FP. We have a son,” Alice promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, she didn’t come all this way to cry, so her face went blank.

FP wasn’t afraid to cry though. His face was serious and tough, which juxtaposed the shiny tears staining his sun spotted cheeks.

“Jesus Christ, Alice. And you fucking kept this from me? I want to meet him. Bring him here,” FP demanded, his sadness quickly morphing into rage.

“I don’t know where he is. I told Betty and Polly and thanks to your other son, they found him. I caught them making plans to meet him,” Alice said.

“Jughead knows?” Sadness returned.

“No. But… Betty insisted on telling him,” Alice shrugged, “He’ll know any minute now.”

“Maybe it’s best he hears it from her,” there was a pause between the two old lovers. They never spoke of that night after it happened, and FP swore he dreamed it anyway. Alice spent less and less time at the trailer park and when they graduated she moved in with Hal right away. Gladys finally started talking to him again, admitting that she felt awkward after they had sex, but wanted to get to know him. They went in their separate directions, but now, he knew they’re paths were forever congealed. “I hate you for this.”

Alice blinked rapidly, “You should.”

Alice delicately refolded the chair and left, the only noise was FP gently sobbing into his mattress.

–

Jughead could tell Betty had been crying during the walk over because her cheeks were especially cold and icy when he kissed her cheek. He imagined it was about Scott, that he wanted nothing to do with his birth sisters, and left the blonde Cooper girls utterly heartbroken. But instead, she almost looked sad for him, giving him sympathetic glances as she sat down on the couch. She patted the seat next to her. Jughead took it suspiciously.

“I looked through Cheryl’s closet, the shoes are missing. We will have to take another angle,” Betty said flatly. He instantly knew this isn’t what she came for, but he played along briefly.

“Not necessarily. Those shoes missing may mean she threw them out because they had blood on them,” Jughead mused. “You should text her, maybe under the guise of wanting to borrow them, ask her where they are.”

Betty shrugged and just the act or raising her shoulder seemed difficult for her. “Worth a shot, I guess.”

She pulled out her phone and text her quickly and put it back in her jacket pocket. Silence set over the trailer. Betty wondered if this trailer where her mom and Jughead’s dad conceived Scott. She shuddered at the thought, and her boyfriend took notice. Her grabbed her hand and rubbed circles around the pulse point near her thumb.

“What did you really come here to talk about?” Jughead asked gently.

“Can I see the picture of Scott you found?” Betty inquired suddenly.

Jughead nodded and pulled the laptop from the coffee table to his lep and opened it. He tapped the keyboard swiftly, made a couple of mouse clicks, and her brother was right in front of her. Jughead angled the monitor so she could see better, and there he was. Scott had thick, black locks just like Jughead, a sharp jawline like him too. How could Jughead not see that they looked a little alike? This was so freaky. Even though Betty and Jughead weren’t related, they shared a half brother that was a mixture of both of them, much like how a child between them would look like.

“Does he look like… someone?” God, how was she supposed to say this?

“Um.. you?” He looked at her incredulous, his heart thumping. What was she getting at?

“No… you, Juggie,” Betty’s eyes watered with tears.

In the back of his mind, he knew what she could possibly be referring too, but he was still at a loss. His lip was quivering, he was about to cry, “What?”

“My mom kept this from all of us,” Betty spoke softly, “Her and FP had a one night stand in high school. Scott is your brother too.”

Jugehad’s face was twisted in horror, and he pushed the laptop on the floor and curled into Betty, his head in her lap. He started crying, sobbing even, and he clutched onto her hips so harshly purple bruises began to form there. Jughead was strong for her when she found out, and she had to be strong for him too.

“Why can’t we catch a fucking break?” Jughead cried.

“I don’t know. But we are going to be okay. And you can come with us to meet him,” Betty offered.

He nodded, his head rising and looking at her in the eyes as he continued to sniffle, “I do.” Jughead paused. “Betty, make love to me. Make this go away. I want to just me you for a few minutes. No parents, no siblings; just us.”

Jughead’s eyes were puffy but their blueness shined so brightly with tears rimming his eyes. She nodded, and undid his pants. She kissed him sweetly as she stroked him softly before he sat back, just enjoying for a moment. He wanted to get lost in the rhythm of her hand. She takes it upon herself to reach into her pants and pleasure herself and prepare for Jughead. She shimmies her pants off and slides down her panties. She was about to get on him when he shook his head.

“Let’s take all of our clothes off. I need to feel your skin,” he groaned, almost in pain.

He pulled of his shirt and Betty tugged off the rest of her garments. She sank down on him and and he gritted his teeth, so overwhelmed by the feeling of his bare cock burying inside of her. He wanted to forget everything and so he closed his eyes and held onto Betty’s hips, silently guiding her, not like she needed it. Betty rode him like never before, using each other’s bodies to get lost. Betty threw her head back and Jughead took the opportunity to plop a nipple in his mouth and bite roughly. Betty rode him until she came, and used every ounce of her energy to ride him until he did too. She collapsed into his embrace. Jughead smoothed her hair back on her sweaty forehead. He was still inside her several minutes later when she eventually got off of him and layed on the couch. He cuddled into her, her back against his bare chest. The couch had little room, but the two didn’t mind because it was just another excuse to be pressed together.

“Can I stay here, Juggie? My mom said I’m not welcome home because I wanted to tell you the truth. I just need a place to stay until this blows over,” Betty asked quietly.

Betty felt Jughead nod against her shoulder. “Anytime, Betty. You don’t even have to ask.”

When sleep stated to overcome them, Betty’s phone buzzed. It was from Cheryl. Funny you should ask, those shoes are missing. I was going to ask if you are Pol took them. The redhead ended the text with the purple devil emoji. The little symbol made her gut twist. She nudged Jughead to show him, and his head fell back.

“You’re right, it was a dead end,” Jughead sighed.

“Maybe not,” Betty mused, “who else has access to Cheryl’s closet? Before she moved in with us?”

“Penelope Blossom.”

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