Yoongi’s never been a person who’s been effortlessly beautiful. It takes a lot of effort for him to muster up the gumption to even walk out the door in the morning. He carefully and purposefully curates himself. Skinny jeans with just the right bit of give, boots that don’t make his feet look too humongous for his matchstick thin legs, entirely too expensive jackets providing just enough room for a hoodie but that are just snug enough that he actually has a shape. Mostly black of course, sometimes he mixes it up and tosses some red in there.
Comfy clothes make him feel ugly, lumpy and too pointy all at once. He tries so hard to feel comfortable and relax for just fucking once but shapeless and baggy makes him feel like the physical form he occupies isn’t his, that it’s not real, that he isn’t real. It doesn’t make any sense, but he can’t just be. He either has to be beautiful and uncomfortable or has to be ugly and comfortable. Effortlessly beautiful and comfortable don’t just exist for people like Yoongi.
He doesn’t look annoyingly and endearingly rumpled in the mornings like Namjoon does. Namjoon has his fashion sweats, the kind that taper in at the ankle, and his ironic ‘The Rabinowitz’s Great Fat Family Reunion Disney Vacation And Combination Barbecue’ shirts from the thrift store that would make Yoongi look like a kid wearing his dad’s oversized shirts, swimming in it and scrawny, while Namjoon makes them look like they cost $45 from Urban Outfitters. He has fucking cabin socks and his bed head and hi chunky framed glasses make him look like a dumb sexy professor on the weekends. Which is kind of what he is. But, ew, Yoongi doesn’t think he’s sexy at all. He’s just effortlessly beautiful.
Seulgi is just the same. Her hair can have a week’s worth of product build up and oil and the messy bun held together by a paintbrush is still effortlessly beautiful. The rolled down waistband of her red Soffe shorts leftover from her dance team days and a charity event hoodie from high school that she cut the hem off of to make it cropped make her approachable. Girl-next-door cute. Girl-next-door who reads tarot cards by candle light while shotgunning a beer and calling you a moron. But still effortlessly beautiful and charming. No wonder she has everyone fawning over her despite her holier-than-thou art heaux vibes.
Jin is dewey in the morning from his extensive skin care routine and he wears matching pajamas like a real adult and Jimin walks around in dance leggings and leg warmers and ballet slippers like he came out of the womb wearing them and Taehyung’s little pony tail he ties with pink glittery hair bands to hold his bangs back isn’t dumb, it’s cute and Jeongguk’s stark white t-shirts and unlaced timberlands make him look boy-next-door hot when he’s really a nerd underneath it all and Joohyun has dorky glasses and a retainer but she’s so fucking beautiful anyway.
Yoongi isn’t effortlessly and charmingly beautiful. The pair of fifty dollar joggers Jimin coaxed him into buying last Fall don’t make him feel any better, in fact they make him feel worse. Like he doesn’t deserve to be beautiful and comfortable. He can’t just relax. He’s crafted a very particular illusion, a performance of himself for others, so maybe just maybe people will like him. Effortlessly beautiful people don’t just fall in like with painstakingly and laboriously crafted people like Yoongi. But he can’t help himself for falling for people like that. Hell, being friends with people like that.
Hoseok seems like he’s effortlessly beautiful. Not even comfy clothes wise but.... everything wise.
So yes, effortlessly beautiful people like all of his friends still spend an hour in the morning to get ready, ready to perform their best selves just like he does. Namjoon with his long wool overcoats and Jin with his Margiela tabis when he’s really feeling himself and Seulgi with her red lipstick always and Jeongguk with his pretty silver hoops that he says make him feel like the prettiest boy in the whole wide world and Taehyung with his wide legged pants because they’re fášhîøń and feel like he’s wearing blankets on his legs and Jimin with skin tight jeans and barely there button-ups. Little bits of something that make them feel a little bit invincible and a little like they can actually face the day.
But Hoseok doesn’t seem like that. He doesn’t need a little bit of armor like they do to keep themselves safe. He just does whatever the hell he wants. In the times Yoongi has seen him since The Smash Bros Incident (it’s been six times. Not that he’s keeping track or anything) he’s seen him wear a matching tropical print set, a beanie folding his ears over (which absolutely obliterated Yoongi’s soul) and bright pink sunglasses, and a shirt that very clearly was handmade emblazoned with SHRIMPIN AINT EASY which he pulled off like it came off a Vivienne Westwood runway.
Hoseok is just that kinda person. Or at least he seems like it.
“You look cozy today,” Yoongi hears through his headphones, ripping them off his head, the cushioning snagging dangerously at the many dangly earrings he has in today. Well the past couple of days. He’s been sleeping in them, too tired, too lazy, too whatever to take them out.
It’s been a lot of whatever recently. The meticulous organizing and reorganizing of the files on his computer, the constant picking at the skin around his fingernails, the extra care he’s been putting into his appearance (rewashing and rewashing and rewashing his favorite pair of jeans after every individual wear), this constant hum of sun moon stars sun moon stars sun moon stars buzzing on a loop in his head, the whatever of it all.
It’s been... a rough start to the semester.
It’ll be fine though. It always gets fine.
The repeating of sun moon stars sun moon stars comes to grinding halt in his head when he yelps like a coward, dragged out of being Logged The Fuck In at The Coffee Place. Yoongi skitters his glance up to see Hoseok grinning at him from across his very messy table, standing up with two hot drink cups, one in each hand, once crisp paper bag full of pastries crumpled in the crook of his elbow. His ears are folded over again, jammed down by his beanie. His cheeks are a little flushed from the whipping wind outside. He looks good.
Yoongi, unfortunately, has to remind himself of what he’s wearing. Namjoon’s shitty high school marching band hoodie again, a muddy shade of too-brown burgundy, shoved into his leather jacket, the hoodie sleeves too baggy so they bunch up miserably in his armpits. His gray blanket scarf definitely smells like days old coffee and sweat. He has his bangs shoved up in a backwards cap, a look he hasn’t touched since he was a shitty and zitty eighteen year old. His forehead is probably so greasy it could moonlight as a mirror.
He’s so gross right now.
But he had to get a change of scenery to bang out this paper. The studio reminded him that he can’t write any fucking music, his brain too full of cotton and whatever right now. The Apartment was empty for once. The one time he needed it to be full of people and energy and noise and laughter, no one was there.
He thinks he heard Jimin come in to steal their last banana this morning, but that’s about it. Namjoon crashed at Seokjin’s last night. Entirely suspicious and also weird to not have Namjoon already be up typing furiously on his clunky ancient white macbook on his third cup of the day being the first thing Yoongi sees in the morning.
“I’m more disgusting than anything else right now,” Yoongi says, finally, setting his headphones down in between the danish wrappers and empty ceramic mugs The Coffee Place provides for those who plan on camping out the entire day. He resists the urge to swipe across his forehead to see just how shiny he is right now. Instead, he gestures for Hoseok to sit across from him, pulling his garbage towards him, some of it spilling onto his keyboard.
Hoseok plops down in chair, plops down one cup in front of Yoongi, crinkling the bag to dig his hand in to plop a muffin next to the cup. It’s a cinnamon banana with bourbon caramel swirl. And a triple Americano. His favorites.
Yoongi goes to stutter out a thanks but Hoseok interrupts him with a wave of his hand.
“Shh, don’t. I saw you from the window and you looked miserable. I decided you needed a little bit of a pick-me-up,” he says, unwrapping his own muffin and taking a huge bite of it. “You’re not disgusting, by the way,” he says mouth full of crumbs.
“Who’d you have to threaten to get my Coffee Place order?”
“Didn’t have to threaten anyone, which is refreshing. Taehyung keeps threatening to shank me-”
“With his busted palette knife?” Yoongi cuts him off.
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Hoseok says, wagging his pointer finger at Yoongi in confirmation. Crumbs are still spraying out of his mouth. It shouldn’t be as charming as it is. “So yeah, shank me if I keep dodging Wacky Wednesday Movie Night, but no offense to Jimin but I really don’t want to watch Step It Up 2 three weeks in a row.”
“You didn’t read their lease did you?” Yoongi asks, resting his chin in his hand, willfully ignoring Jin’s voice in his head to stop touching his face or he’ll start breaking out again.
“Not at all. I should’ve, really. Who knew Spaghetti Mondays, Topless Tuesdays, Wacky Wednesday Movie Nigh--”
“And Topless Thursday: The Return, Taco Friday, Skankin’ Saturday where Taehyung--
“Listens to the entirety of Streetlight Manifesto’s discography once a week in chronological order and there is the mandatory Skank-Along for at least one song,” Hoseok finishes for him.
“Just when you thought there was nobody left on earth who still listens to ska, there comes Taehyung Kim skanking in,” Yoongi laughs out.
“I can’t even be mad at him cause it’s so endearing? Like, a puppy who hasn’t grown into his paws yet boppin’ all over the house to third wave ska. It’s like a federal offense to hate something like that,” Hoseok says and then continues “Anyway, Jimin mentioned something about stealing your last banana this morning--”
“I told him we had bananas in the freezer but he wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“Sounds like Jimin.”
“But also said that he might, and his words here, ‘give him a gift he shall not forget as a humble offering for disrupting the Oh Great Benevolent Yet Grumpy One’ and then Jeongguk gasped and said ‘not a triple Americano and cinnamon banana muffin from The Coffee Place’ like it was the worst thing in the world,” Hoseok laughs out. “I assumed The Benevolent Yet Grumpy One was you and that the coffee and muffin were your favorites rather than some sort of pseudo-punishment.”
“Unfortunately, that is me,”
“Well, I think it’s a misnomer. You don’t seem that grumpy,”
“That’s nice of you but realistically, look at me. I don’t exactly radiate sunshine and rainbows.”
“But you do radiate the great desire of coffee and sustenance in the form of a baked good, so I have delivered,” says Hoseok, matter-of-factly and preening.
Yoongi opens his mouth again to tell Hoseok something along the lines of ‘you really didn’t have to, I’m not worth the effort’ but Hoseok yet again interrupts him the wave of his hand.
“Shut up before you even think of saying it. If wasn’t me who got to you first, it was gonna be Jimin. Followed by Taehyung, followed by Jeongguk.”
“For the sake of comedic effect, of course.”
“What else would it be for?”
Hoseok gets a wide, gummy grin out of Yoongi and Yoongi is so beyond the point of caring anymore. He’s already embarrassed himself thrice before this time. He’s tired, he’s whatever, doesn’t care about hiding his gummy smile he secretly hates.
“So, how is it living with the Three Stooges?” he asks. He finally takes a sip of the fresh americano and peels off the wrapper to his muffin.
Hoseok sighs and takes his beanie off to run a hand through his messy bangs. Yoongi gulps and internally wheezes.
Yoongi had been noticeably absent for the big move into The Gremlin Zone two weeks ago. To be entirely fair, he’d helped move so many of them into that accursed home that he refuses to help any more people move in or out. Ignoring the manual labor aspect of it, he definitely didn’t help to avoid Hoseok and his Hoseok related… infatuation. God, he fucking hates to call it that but it’s true.
He has a goddamn infatuation with Hoseok and he is going to ignore it, but it does exist and Namjoon did call him out on the reason for bailing but ended up leaving Yoongi to his own devices of trying to write and then getting scolded by his mother on facetime for not calling her often enough and telling him that his Korean is getting rusty. Which just made Yoongi feel even worse cause he’s sure Hoseok is a great friend who would help him move in and he probably calls his mom all the time and speaks Korean effortlessly with Namjoon, god he’s such a piece of shit.
“It’s...a lot.” Hoseok says, obviously feeling pained he has to phrase it that way.
Yoongi quirks up an eyebrow.
“Good a lot or bad a lot?”
“Oh! Absolutely the good a lot, but it’s still…a lot. They really saved my ass from the eternal suffering of trying to afford a one bedroom in this neighborhood so I can’t complain too much.”
Yoongi actively forgets all the time that The Apartment and their landlords are the exception to the skyrocketing housing market prices in this area. They get cut a huge deal of slack for the amount of space they have and the amount they actually pay. Yeah, Yoongi and Namjoon sometimes have to forgo splurging on happy hour for the third time in one month in order to afford rent and bills and groceries, but it’s nothing in comparison to what other students in this town have to do to afford anything without using their student loans to cover the rent.
“Not anymore. I shared a two bedroom just outside of downtown. Roommate decided to move in with his long term girlfriend this year, no big deal. I get it, but just really inconvenient timing.”
Yoongi nods at that. He picks up his muffin wrapper and tears it into tiny, crumby pieces.
Their conversation starts to lull. To be fair, this is the first time Yoongi has interacted with Hoseok without another person there. Maybe if he weren’t like, two weeks behind schedule for school assignments, dealing with this overwhelming dread of whatever, and knew how to make polite conversation with someone who is arguably his friend, this wouldn’t be painfully awkward, but here he is.
But Hoseok doesn’t seem to be bothered, simply scrolling through his notifications and rolling his shoulders a couple of times before rubbing one of his ears peeking out from beneath his beanie, folded over elf-like. God, that just. Makes Yoongi want to fucking combust. Cool cool cool.
Yoongi taps on his space bar in rapid succession to wake up his laptop in a desperate attempt to make this silence not seem as awkward and overwhelming as he’s making it when his phone goes off. Hoseok jumps in his seat at the noise clutching his chest.
“Shit, that scared me,” he says, “You can pick up I don’t mind,” and waves off, going back to scrolling through his phone, with the addition of bouncing his leg.
Yoongi nods and throws out a quick thanks, glancing down to see Namjoon’s name on his screen. This can’t be good.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Yoongi mumbles, trying not to disturb the quiet atmosphere of The Coffee Place.
“Dude, I don’t know what to tell you but Jin’s been sitting on the kitchen floor doing an awfully impressive mash-up of Arirang and Hava Nagila for the past hour, I can’t get him to stop and I need help,” Namjoon breathes out, stressed.
“Well, he does have to be off-book for the show in like a week and got yelled at by his mom for not coming home for Yom Kippur service, so I’m not exactly surprised,” Yoongi says. He turns his attention back to Hoseok briefly who’s mouthing “who?” with a confused look on his face.
Yoongi covers the speaker part of the phone, “Namjoon about Jin.”
“Wait, Jin’s Jewish?” Hoseok asks, utterly taken aback while Namjoon is still rambling in Yoongi’s ear.
“Don’t worry, Namjoonie. Let hyung take care of it. I’ll bring Sonic and Hobi,” Yoongi says, looking at Hoseok expectantly since he did suddenly rope Hoseok into these plans, who’s grinning and eagerly nodding, moving to gather their trash together.
“You only call yourself hyung when you want to feel self-important, I see through your shit, Yoongi…. Hyung.” Namjoon scoffs at him.
“See if I get your stupid cranberry-limeade float now, jackass,” Yoongi says, tucking the phone against his shoulder to pack up his laptop.
“Hey, not cool!”
“See you in 40, Namjoon.” Yoongi hangs up and turns to look up at Hoseok spinning his car keys around his finger.
“Ready to go? I’ll drive,” Hoseok asks, smiling and perky and excited.
Yes, the whatever sucks and trying to get over it and be a normal functioning person again is not an easy task by any means but he’s trying to forget it even for a little bit to be good for Hoseok. A new friend, warm as sunshine and golden as a wheat field, deserves a good friend in return.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
And Hoseok gives him a big, stretching smile, gleeful and pure, and Yoongi feels his cheeks go red. He can put aside the whatever for this.