Chapter Text
throughout his entire twenty two years of life or, more relevantly, his four years of smoking, hoseok can definitively say that he has never, ever, been quite this affected by a blunt. and it doesn't even feel like he's reached that plateau of "it can't get any more than this", and that's slightly worrying.
he's not an expert, and it's not like hoseok hasn't been this stoned before, (he's rather... experienced with these kinds of things,) but this is one of those highs that makes him feel worse than he did beforehand. that's mostly his fault, because he knows better than to try to escape his problems via cheap pot, but. still. it seemed like a good idea at the time.
he smoked an hour ago at his friend jimin's apartment, only two floors down from his own, to destress and forget about the assignments piling over him like an avalanche. now he's standing in the middle of a convenience store with the worst stomachache known to humanity, trying to remember what he even came here for.
he had a list. had. the only thing on it was eggs, but he already has eggs, even though he doesn't even like eggs. why would he need more? do convenience stores even sell eggs? hoseok supposes he's having an eggs-itential crisis. he also really, really hates himself for making that pun.
today is not going well. and he really shouldn't be this high off one cheap blunt from one cheapskate friend, considering how long he's been smoking regularly, nor should he be in public while like this. ever.
deciding to completely ignore his attempt at a list, he instead wanders to the freezer of ice cream on the far wall of the store. maybe he can drown his stress in high-fat junk that's even more heavenly when he's like this.
yeah. ice cream. ice cream is good; great. now he just has to choose a fucking flavor.
there's too many, and he's honestly a bit overwhelmed. he's always been indecisive, so he decides to choose by the little pictures on the labels, and this is all well and good until another guy shows up. new guy stands beside him, and looks far too good cast in cheap fluorescent light.
he has messy blonde hair that hoseok wants to run his fingers through as soon as he sees it because it looks so soft, and he's shorter than hoseok by just a little bit. he has these angry eyebrows accentuated by sharp, catlike eyes, contrasted by plush, pink lips. hoseok has truly never wanted to kiss someone more than he wants to kiss this guy, but this quickly changes when they reach for the same, and only, pint of mint chocolate ice cream.
there's a line that hoseok draws every time he sees or meets someone attractive, and new guy has definitely crossed that line. maybe even smudged it with his sneakers and drawn over it with a 'fuck you' in neon orange spray paint. (hoseok is a dramatic person. whatever.)
"uh- i was gonna get that," hoseok stutters, cursing himself for being more passive than passive aggressive. his cottonmouth doesn't help at all, throat rough and tongue dry as words tumble from his lips.
luckily, or unluckily, new guy understands him just fine. he delicately plucks the ice cream from the shelf and gently closes the freezer, sighing as he turns to face hoseok.
"listen, kid. you can pick a different one, or we can fight to the death over a pint of ice cream like a couple of twelve year olds. your choice," he says in a bored tone, voice rather low for his small frame and definitely one of those voices. the kind that hoseok would want to hear all the time, narrating films or reading books aloud or speaking on podcasts. all three and more, actually.
but as much as hoseok thinks new guy is cute, or how he wouldn't mind having a goddamn algebra textbook recited to him word for word as long as new guy is the one reading it, he's currently wearing the most unbothered expression that hoseok has ever been on the receiving end of. that scares him, just a little bit, because hoseok himself wears his emotions like a huge, bedazzled crown, and the impassiveness of others has a tendency to intimidate him. but, like he said, just a little bit.
also, while hoseok is rather talented at embarrassing himself in public, fighting a cute stranger over cheap ice cream would be a new low for him. maybe even rock bottom.
"please don't call me a kid," he asks, instead of maybe snatching the pint from the other's hand and running off like he wants to. or maybe asking if he could please, kindly hand it over so that hoseok can eat all of it and then fill the carton with his tears while watching sad movies, thanks.
he supposes both options are a bit overboard, to say the least.
"fine, i won't. whatever. are we fighting or what?" the blonde inquires, raising a thick eyebrow.
"uh- no. i'm hoseok."
the other male's brows raise in subdued surprise, and then he squints a bit. hoseok's chest tightens in what could be either paranoia, heartburn, or just him bodily reacting to how cutely new guy's nose scrunches up. he genuinely hopes it the last one, but he also kinda doesn't, because he doesn't want to find new guy cute because he called hoseok a kid and took the last container of hoseok's favorite ice cream and-
"jung? don't we have economics together?"
shit.
now that he really looks at new guy, he recognizes the earrings and the blond hair as traits of min yoongi from his stupid early economics class. yoongi, who's asleep half the time, and yet still manages to get fairly decent test scores. new guy is yoongi, whom hoseok throws crumpled wads of paper at when his snoring gets too obnoxious or when the professor is lecturing about something actually worth listening to , and he doesn't really know how to approach this situation.
hoseok gapes, pondering over whether he should tell the truth or not. he doubts yoongi would care either way; he gives off that 'i don't give a shit' vibe, and hoseok's actually pretty sure he saw yoongi wearing a hat with that exact phrase emblazoned across the side- off topic. he needs to stop doing that.
"uh. yeah. and i'm kinda," hoseok gestures to the ceiling, and yoongi nods in what seems to be understanding, "and i really, really need that. so. pretty please?"
yoongi chuckles a bit, and hoseok feels his mood dampen as the milliseconds go by. or maybe it's his eyes dampening- fuck.
trust park jimin to give him something that'll make him even more of a crybaby. wait. smoking doesn't get him like this, and he thinks and remembers, and then he's reminded of those stupid fucking brownies he ate at jimin's place. jimin said they were just normal brownies. jimin is also a liar. fuck that guy. (not quite literally. not quite.)
"shit- are you? are you crying?" yoongi stammers, his apathetic expression quickly shifting into one of concern. pity. maybe a bit of 'what the hell', because what kind of guy cries over mint chocolate ice cream, of all things?
"no, i'm not. i'm really not, and i'm gonna- i'm gonna go. now. go home and-" he starts saying, but he walks into the entrance to the establishment before he can finish his sentence. it's a transparent glass door, so he's justified in thinking that it was open, but now his nose hurts, a lot. at least now he can blame the tears welling up in his eyes on that instead of everything else that just happened.
"should i call someone to pick you up?" yoongi asks, gently tugging hoseok away from the entrance and the suspicious gaze of the employee working the register.
"no, i'll be fine. this is fine," hoseok sniffles, pinching the bridge of his nose and blindly reaching for the door handle.
"wait, hoseok. just- stay right there," yoongi insists, quickly walking away. hoseok tries to stop himself from crying too much, but his face really does hurt and he really does hate park jimin with the rage of a thousand burning suns for not telling him that those weren't fucking store-bought, normal brownies. that would've been great to know before he stuffed his face within ten minutes flat.
yoongi comes back quickly, plastic bag in hand as he hurriedly stuffs the change in his pocket. he grabs ahold of hoseok's sleeve and leads him out of the tiny store, shaking his head in what could either be disapproval or embarrassment, considering how many people are looking at them.
he supposes it's not every day you see an angry-looking, short male dragging a crying, taller male out of a rundown business, so he can't really blame them for staring or whispering to their companions. what he does blame them for is moving so fast that his vision spins, and he stumbles over his own feet more than once. yoongi stops abruptly, causing hoseok to bump into him, and he finds that simply leaning against yoongi like this is much more comfortable than clutching desperately to the fabric of his jacket. the blond grumbles something under his breath but makes no move to push hoseok away, instead asking a question that he probably should've asked before they started walking.
"where do you even live?"
hoseok simply points to what seems to be his apartment building, a little further down the street, and yoongi sighs, looking at his parked car wistfully.
"alright, c'mon," yoongi grumbles, walking towards the building with hoseok in tow. hoseok ducks down to hide behind him, and it's a bit difficult, considering their height difference, but it's enough to hide hoseok's watery, red-rimmed eyes, and that's much better than the alternative.
it's a weird, awkward walk, because hoseok is basically half draped over yoongi's frame so he won't fall over and the world is in slow motion and wow yoongi smells nice. like expensive cologne and spring flowers, so hoseok can't help it when he tucks his head into the juncture between yoongi's neck and shoulder. yoongi doesn't seem to mind too much, so he stays there the entire time.
it seems to take eons to get there, but they eventually do make it to the apartment building. hoseok mumbles the building code to yoongi, who punches it in with a deep, heavy sigh. hoseok kinda feels bad for the guy, but not really. this is his fault, after all. his and jimin's. it seems like short people are out to get him today, really.
"this place has an elevator, right?"
hoseok shakes his head, both to answer yoongi's question and try to lessen how clouded his mind feels. he ate three. he ate three of those godforsaken brownies and he feels like he could sleep for thirty-seven years straight. what if he's stuck like this forever?
his surroundings fade out as he tries to process the fact that he might be this high for the rest of his life, and he feels like he's going to just collapse and sleep on the floor until yoongi jabs him with a sharp elbow and repeats his question.
"nah, no elevator. wanted to promote 'healthier lifestyle' or something, so it's all stairs."
"which floor?" yoongi asks, and hoseok might be too out of it to even attempt at guessing emotions, but he swears that he sees fear in yoongi's eyes. phobia of stairs? no. heights, maybe. that would make sense, because yoongi's short.
"sixth."
"you're fucking kidding me," yoongi deadpans, and when hoseok starts rambling about why he's definitely not kidding, he knows where his apartment is, he's lived here for two years, dammit, the blonde sighs for the nth time in the past half hour or so.
they somehow make the trek up all six flights without either of them passing out (read; hoseok) or having an exercise-induced asthma attack (read; yoongi), and hoseok can't help but let out a whoop of victory once he sees his apartment door. it's an ugly, faded canary yellow, and the number is graffitied over with a suspiciously phallic-shaped drawing, but it's his apartment, and he's glad to be home.
(it's fair to mention that two floors down, park jimin is on the phone with kim taehyung, sitting in his bathtub and watching a lizard documentary while rambling about the repercussions of buying brownies from the "shoulder guy from culinary arts that lives with the angry midget guy."
shoulder guy, also known as kim seokjin, is rather evil when he wants to be.)
yoongi leans against the wall to catch his breath, ("i don't do this shit, ever. stop looking at me like that.") while hoseok digs through his pockets for his keys. and while he does find his keys, they don't work. he tries over and over, using the same key because he knows which key is for his apartment.
after trying to no avail, hoseok slumps his shoulders in defeat and stares at the doorknob with a forlorn expression.
"yoongi, i'm locked out."
that statement rings through the empty hallway, and it's fortunate that no one else is present to see the matching expressions of pure dread on their faces.
"are you sure you're using the right key?" yoongi asks dubiously, jiggling the handle in an attempt to see if hoseok even locked the door in the first place. it doesn't budge, and yoongi rolls his eyes when hoseok starts whining again.
"yoongi, i-i'm homeless now. my house hates me and it locked me out and," he pauses, eyes widening in concern to a near-comical size, "what about mickey? he'll die in there, and he'll get lonely….yoongi, what about mickey?"
hoseok continues rambling about 'mickey', running his fingers through his hair in his anxiousness. if the situation were slightly less annoying, slightly less pitiful, yoongi might've laughed.
but for now, he just wants to get hoseok into his apartment and go home. he didn't ask for any of this to happen today.
"jesus christ. give me your keys," yoongi huffs impatiently, not waiting for hoseok to hand them over as he takes them from the taller male's grasp.
"fine. i have no use for them anyway. tell mickey i love him the bestest and that he's in my will- wait, i don't even have a will," hoseok says quietly, eyes wide in realization. he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, knees to his chest as he pouts. he looks like he might cry again.
"yoongi, do you know how to write a will?"
yoongi doesn't answer, and instead opens the door with the right key. he turns to hoseok, and it takes all his willpower to not laugh at his expression of awe, like a kid at disneyland for the first time. something like that.
"are you a magician?" hoseok asks softly, and yoongi shrugs.
"sure. hocus pocus, whatever."
"really?" the brunet inquires, voice thick disbelief as his brows raise in surprise.
yoongi splutters, "what the- no, i'm not a fucking magician. you were using your car keys to unlock the door, hoseok."
"oh," hoseok drawls, exaggerating the vowel. yoongi shakes his head and nudges open the door, thanking every single deity he knows of that the apartment doesn't smell like pot.
hoseok immediately runs to mickey, who's apparently a tiny shih tzu wearing a fucking sweater, and yoongi honestly doesn't think this day could get any weirder. he ambles to hoseok's kitchen while the brunet is preoccupied, sets down the convenience store bag on a (surprisingly) clean counter, and almost despises himself for being so damn nice to a person he hardly even knows.
the brunet is still mumbling something to his dog when yoongi walks back to the living room after his mini "who am i" crisis. he briefly considers just leaving hoseok to his own devices, but he's slightly (very) worried that hoseok might have gotten way more fucked up than normal from just a blunt, or a bowl, or whatever he had that made him like...whatever this is. yoongi has his suspicions, and rightly so.
he curses himself for deciding to live with a mom-friend. seokjin's caring habits are rubbing off on him, and yoongi doesn't exactly like this newfound side of himself.
"don't pass out on the floor. you look like you're trying to plank. and you're failing," yoongi grumbles, nudging hoseok's thigh with the heel of his shoe. he has no doubt that hoseok would pass out on the carpet if not for yoongi poking and prodding at him to move.
"that reminds me of 2010, y'know when everyone was planking in the weirdest fuckin' places. 2010 was a simpler time, yoongi," hoseok replies as he shifts to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed, yet fond, expression. he sighs and then continues, going off and rambling about the debt and deficit from that year, and while yoongi appreciates sentimentalism, he doesn't enjoy it quite as much in the form of a pot-fueled trip into economic hell.
"sure. but it's not 2010 anymore, so get up, hoseok."
the brunet snaps his jaw shut and frowns, but does as he's told, only walking three steps before promptly flopping on his couch. mickey whines at the loss of attention, and yoongi peers down at the limp frame below him.
"should i call someone?"
and he's genuinely a bit concerned; he doesn't want hoseok to do something stupid like stick a fork in an outlet to see what happens, but he also doesn't want to to babysit him until the high dwindles away.
hoseok waves his hand in a shooing motion, "nah, i'll be fine. it's cool. cooler than ice. antarctica. but not as cool as me." then he laughs, actually giggles, and yoongi takes that as his cue to go home.
(he leaves a sticky note with his phone number on it stuck to hoseok's fridge- he just wants to make sure he didn't leave the guy for dead or something. that's all.
yoongi hates his roommate for being so goddamn nice and forcing his so goddamn nice habits upon yoongi's apathetic personality. it's ruining his image, truly.)