Chapter Text
They say the nature sometimes indicates how things will unfurl.
Hoseok doesn’t buy it.
He meets Yoongi on a sunny Saturday evening, cherry blossoms blooming around them, and it’s the beginning of the end.
It doesn’t start that way.
He’s a believer in the morning, when he gets the news that he’s to be married to Min Yoongi, and the sunlight’s streaming through his office blinds, dancing yellow beams across the tiled floor.
“The marriage will be in two weeks,” his mother says over the phone, and Hoseok’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, cursor on the excel sheet open blinking innocuously. There’s a thousand questions running through his head, but at that moment all he can blurt out is,
“What?”
“I am aware it seems a little too early, Hoseokie, but with the way things are going…” Her voice tapers off for a second, and when she speaks again her voice has forced cheer in it. “I mean, if you boys want a longer engagement, I could arrange something with Dahye—”
“Eomma,” Hoseok says, “I’ll do it. I’ll marry Min Yoongi even tomorrow if that’s what you want.”
And that’s that.
He’s never said no to his mother, after all.
The sun’s still high in the sky when he texts Yoongi.
Yoongi, who he’s saved as Dahye Aunty’s Producer Son in his contacts. Yoongi, who he’s met whenever their parents had a get-together, because their mothers are the best of friends. The sun’s shining and he feels good as he texts him, because sure, this isn’t ideal, but they have got a compatibility of 99%, and that’s quite high.
If Jimin were there, he would point out that Hoseok’s maybe not quite processed the fact that he’s going to be married to a guy he’s met a grand total of 15 times, and spoken to only seven out of them. Jimin would have pointed out that he’s being a little too clinical about the whole thing, but Jimin’s not here so Hoseok will process the wedding the only way he knows how to do it—with a smile on his face and with an impression of having always known of it.
It’s just another event he has to schedule in his calender—something that’s been pre-poned because of reasons that he doesn’t have time to think of right now.
Jung Hoseok
Hey, this is Hoseok
My mum told me about the wedding this morning
Do you wanna meet up this evening to talk about it?
He stares at the messages a little longer—at Yoongi’s contact image a little longer. It’s from when they all went on a three-day trip together to a little cabin by the beach in Busan a couple of years ago and Yoongi had spent the whole time either under an umbrella, slathered in sunscreen and wearing full black or had point blank refused to leave the safety of his room.
He looks like a dork in the picture—in his weird hairstyle and three dolla gold chains from his underground rapper phase and lime green shirt, the grumpiest frown on his face.
He’s changed a lot—Hoseok remembers spotting him about half a year ago at some fancy dinner, and he had looked different, even if he can remember nothing beyond pouty lips and delicate hands.
Shaking his head, he switches off the screen and sets his phone aside. He’s still got spreadsheets to work on.
Dahye Aunty’s Producer Son
sure
meet u at the park at 5
[Location]
It’s slightly cloudy when Hoseok gets ready to meet with Min Yoongi, ransacking his wardrobe for something presentable. Something decent to wear to meet his future fiancé. The man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.
He’s in the middle of trying to pick between his red jacket and a suit when Jimin comes home, plastering his sweaty self onto Hoseok’s back, and Hoseok feels the tension seep out of his muscles like a switch’s been flipped.
“Have you got a sexy date, Hoseokie hyung?” Jimin asks him, clinging on like a particularly enthusiastic koala, shaking his head at the suit. “Suits aren’t sexy for dates.”
“Suits seem appropriate when you’re meeting your future husband,” Hoseok says, holding it out of Jimin’s reach.
There’s a three second interval between Hoseok uttering that statement and Jimin tackling him to the floor with an unholy shriek, jacket and suit be damned.
“You what?”
Hoseok blinks at him—at the slightly unhinged look in Jimin’s eyes as he grabs Hoseok’s collar to shake him, and it’s like with every slight shake, a little more of the clinical detachment he’s been experiencing so far disappears leaving behind just pure panic.
“Fuck, I am getting married in two weeks.”
“I am going to need you to run that by me another time,” Jimin says, both of them seated on the floor, opposite each other. There’s a kind of dazed expression on Jimin’s face that Hoseok’s sure he’s mirroring. “Because I think I just heard you say you’re getting married in two weeks to a complete stranger.”
Hoseok blinks at him, rubbing a hand across his face.
“First off,” he starts, raising a finger, “Min Yoongi isn’t a stranger—”
“Yeah, right. You guys have had one riveting conversation about ferrets when you were 15, silly me for forgetting that,” Jimin deadpans, kicking Hoseok’s shin with his foot.
“Secondly,” Hoseok steamrolls over him, “It’s not too sudden or anything, I mean there have been talks of getting me married off because of—”
“Two weeks, hyung,” Jimin shrieks, scooting over to squish Hoseok’s face in between his small hands. “Only fourteen days before you’re shackled to another man for the rest of eternity. Please allow me be appropriately horrified for the two of us.”
“Jiminie,” Hoseok starts weakly, and Jimin lets go of him in favour of giving him a sad hug.
“Hyung, what were you thinking?”
And isn’t that the million-dollar question?
“I wasn’t really thinking,” he confesses, thinking back to a couple of weeks ago when they had brought up the topic. “I mean, when they asked me if I would be okay with getting married to take the heat of Dawon—”
“You said okay, yes,” Jimin says, waving his hands in frustration, “But I am sure you said yes under the assumption that they would like, I don’t know,” he throws his hands up in the air, “Take at least a year to find someone you would be compatible with? So where did Min Yoongi come from and why this soon?”
“I mean the sooner the better—”
“For Dawon. For your family,” Jimin hisses, “Not for you.”
“Isn’t it the same though?” Hoseok asks. “I mean, what does it matter if it’s two weeks away or two months away? I am still getting married off, and it helps my family which is what matters. Jiminie, I love them, and they love me and it’s—this was a family decision.”
“It’s still unfair,” Jimin murmurs, pouting, and Hoseok pulls him in for a hug.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Hoseok says, and he wonders where it went from both of them freaking out to him consoling Jimin. Wonders in the deepest recesses of his mind why he’s this resigned about the whole thing. This calm. “And besides, from what I know of Yoongi, he’s a pretty cool guy. I mean, I think that’s why my mum—ah…”
“Ah?”
“My mum asked me what I thought of Yoongi a couple of weeks ago, and I said he’s pretty cool, and that I would consider him a friend—”
“That’s why they decided to go to the MAW and try finding out if you guys were compatible?”
Hoseok nods. He’s surprised he didn’t connect the dots earlier and while it isn’t everything, it does make him feel slightly involved in the whole decision, and hey, that’s better than nothing.
“Can’t believe you guys got a 99% though,” Jimin comments, and for the first time there isn’t too much hostility or despair in his voice.
“Which is why I think we’ll work out. I mean I am still processing the whole fact that I’ll be married soon, but…”
For a couple of seconds, there’s just silence. One of those comforting stretches, broken only by the leaves rustling outside, and the slightest of breeze shifting the curtains. And then Jimin asks,
“Leave aside the compatibility test, hyung. Do you think you’ll be able to fall in love with him?”
Hoseok looks at him for a long moment, thinks about the Yoongi he knows. And granted it’s not mucb beyond piano fingers and a lazy drawl; not much beyond a startling dedication towards music and a kind of fierce protectiveness towards his loved ones; not much beyond a few scattered gummy smiles but—
“He could be someone I fall in love with,” Hoseok admits, and for the first time since he got the news, there’s something beyond clinical detachment and visceral panic—there’s something akin to gentle giddiness, and excitement as playful as the sunlight bouncing off their wooden floorboards.
Jimin smiles at him.
“Well then, let’s get you dolled up so that when Min Yoongi sees you, he’ll want to marry you that very instant.”
It’s gently sunny when Hoseok waits under the cherry blossom tree for Yoongi. It had taken Jimin a grand total of an hour to deem him appropriately sexy enough but in a husband sort of way. And to quote him, he’ll want to fuck you but he’ll be imagining fucking you after a long day of work in the kitchen or something while you make dinner and Hoseok had stared at him, concerned, for a whole minute, before asking him what kind of porn he was watching.
“Fanfiction, hyung,” Jimin had sniffed delicately at that, nose upturned in a splendid enactment of an offended k-drama chaebol. “I have more class than porn.”
“Fanfiction is classy?”
He had gotten a pillow to his face for that, but… the thing is, he’s got to admit that he looks good. He just hopes Yoongi thinks the same. Wonders if Yoongi’s as excited about the wedding as he is—or at least excited to meet him. Because he is. There’s nerves, sure. Because he wants to make a good impression, but the thing is, they have met each other before. They have known each other when they were kids, and it does settle his nervousness a little.
His phone chimes. There’s a message from his mother wishing him luck and then—
Cute Mochi Dongsaeng
Fighting Hyung ><
You have got this! :D
Cute Hopi Hyung
Hopefully, Minnie
Cute Mochi Dongsaeng
Is he there yet?
Weren’t you supposed to meet at 5?
Is he late?
Hoseok looks at the time displayed above.
5.10.
Yoongi’s late, but not unreasonably so. And besides, he could have gotten caught in the traffic because of the protests or gotten held back at work, and sure, a message would have been nice but…
Cute Hopi Hyung
He’ll be here soon
Don’t worry
Cute Mochi Dongsaeng
I’ll eat his ankles if he’s later than 5.30 and that’s a promise
Cute Hopi Hyung
Noooo, Jimin-ah, you can’t eat my future husband’s ankles!
He’ll need them to walk down the aisle!
Cute Mochi Dongsaeng
I make no promises
Keep me updated
I am gonna go meet a friend ;)
Love you <3
Cute Hopi Hyung
Love you too
Use protection uwu
Hoseok smiles and pockets his phone, ignoring the keysmash from Jimin’s end.
5.15.
Yoongi should be there soon.
Yoongi shows up at 5.45, as the sun’s just beginning to set. The sky’s all cotton candy colours of blues and pinks and streaks of orange. Yoongi looks prettier than the sky, looks prettier than what Hoseok remembers him to be with his porcelain pale skin and messy blonde hair and sweater paws, even though he’s just in a well-worn hoodie and jeans. For a couple of seconds, Hoseok feels over dressed, but then he gets over it and strides forward to meet Yoongi—his future husband.
“Yoongi-ssi,” he says, bowing a little, and Yoongi bows back.
“Hoseok-ssi.”
“I was hoping for us to get to know each other before the marriage,” Hoseok says, offering him a smile.
Yoongi stares at him for a long second, bottom lip caught between his teeth—stares at him and the expression in his feline, usually half-lidded sleepy eyes is intense. Piercing. If Hoseok weren’t used to the corporate world, he would have squirmed.
And then he says,
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” His whole posture screams nonchalance, right up to the way his hands are tucked into his pockets. “Because it’s in both our best interests to call off the marriage.”
Hoseok freezes.
The sky’s still pretty shades of purple and blue, the sun sinking down further, a cool breeze rustling the cherry blossoms. It’s a romantic setting. It’s a perfect setting.
All Hoseok feels is numb.
He blinks, trying to laugh a little, because surely, Yoongi is joking, right?
“You’re joking, right?” He asks, laughing, but trailing off awkwardly when Yoongi doesn’t even crack a smile.
“I am being one hundred percent serious,” Yoongi promises him. “I am not interested in this wedding.”
“But, you haven’t even given us a chance,” Hoseok starts weakly, only to get cut off by Yoongi.
“And I don’t want to, Hoseok-ssi. Let me be frank with you. They arranged this marriage against my wishes. Us marrying,” he says, gesturing between them, sweater paws wobbling, “It’s only going to make you miserable. That’s a promise.”
“You don’t know that,” Hoseok protests. “You can’t just say that. Like yes, I know this is an arranged marriage but we could work, we have got a compatibility of 99%--”
Yoongi laughs at that, sharp and low. Mean.
“You are one of them, huh?”
“Them?”
“The people who believe in the compatibility tests,” Yoongi scoffs. “The ones who think that the test is gospel—”
“It’s an algorithm,” Hoseok snaps heatedly. “It makes sense to believe it.”
“It’s a fucking machine,” Yoongi yells back, and for the first time his voice raises, tone displaying something other than quiet derision and single-minded determination. “It’s a fucking code and I am not going to let a code decide my life.”
“Then call it off yourself!”
Yoongi blinks at him, and in the silence that ensues Hoseok notices that there’s a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Yoongi just told him to fuck the wedding, and all Hoseok can think is how attractive the man in front of him looks with his slightly flared nostrils and narrowed eyes and pouty lips.
“I can’t,” Yoongi says, at long last, looking away. “My parents refuse to call off the marriage and I can’t not show up because then—” He shakes hie head. “I can’t.”
“I can’t either,” Hoseok confesses quietly.
“But why not? Don’t you have a good relationship with your parents? You can just go up to them and—”
“That’s why I can’t.” Hoseok clenches his fists by the side, forcing himself to take deep breaths, Forcing himself to push back all the emotions bursting forth because he’s already been too vulnerable and they’re just feeding off each other’s anger at this point. “I can’t call it off either. It’s complicated.”
There’s silence again, but this time it’s sticky and fraught with tension. Silence as sticky as maple syrup but definitely not as sweet—sticky and endless, both of them staring at each other, and armed with the new knowledge that Hoseok has, he can see that Yoongi didn’t even make an effort to look good for the meeting.
It makes him feel a little like a loser, even as he shoves all of that behind a door to examine later. Never, preferably. If Jimin doesn’t pry it out of him with his tiny hands.
“You really can’t call it off?” Yoongi asks in the end, voice quieter now, refusing to meet Hoseok’s eyes.
“Why do you want to call it off so bad?” Hoseok asks as answer.
Yoongi exhales sharply at that, eyes boring into Hoseok like he’s searching for something—like he’s maybe assessing if Hoseok is worthy of his secrets. Whatever he must see must satisfy him because he shakes his head and rolls his right sleeve up, thrusting his hand out in Hoseok’s direction.
“Look.”
There’s a thin blue wire pulsing under Yoongi’s skin, encircling his whole wrist. A delicate wire, but it has Hoseok pause for a second.
Pause, with no thought, just the wire pulsating like a mini heart, but so very insidious, and in that moment, he understands, even if he doesn’t like what he’s seeing.
“You were matched incompatible,” he murmurs, and Yoongi nods, rolling the sleeve down immediately, tucking his hand into his pocket. He looks a little shaken, a little vulnerable. Sad. “Who?” Hoseok finds himself asking against his better judgement, and Yoongi’s defences snap up as quick as that.
“That doesn’t matter,” he says, blunt and business like. “All that matters is that I am still in love with him. Is that he’s got my heart—” And Hoseok wants to point out that they were matched incompatible. That the system wouldn’t have made an error. That Yoongi should give up, because how long can love last when every touch shocks you? But he has a feeling it won’t go over well, so he just stays quiet. “—so I’ll never love you. You don’t want to be trapped in a marriage with me, Hoseok-ssi,” Yoongi finishes, voice impossibly soft for the words he’s saying.
And Hoseok maybe kind of understands—realises with a dull sort of ache that Yoongi is saying the truth. Realises in that second that his marriage is going to be a loveless one and resigns himself to it because,
“I can’t call off the marriage, either. I hear you, but it’s impossible, so…”
Yoongi stares at him, long and hard then. Stares and his mouth twists into a scowl, the slightest hints of resignation flickering behind his eyes.
“Very well then. But I promise you that I’ll do my best to get out of this marriage. And,” he says, taking a step back, “I’ll never love you. This marriage will be a sham.”
He leaves, with that, cherry blossoms showering around them, the sky shades of blue and violet now. It’s still so very pretty. Hoseok learns right then that nature isn’t the very best indicator of what’s going to happen, as he nurses a slightly bloody heart, feet still rooted to the same spot, wondering why it feels like the beginning of the end.
After all, they don’t owe each other anything.
(But maybe, Hoseok had hoped.)
Hoseok meets Namjoon when there’s a storm in the air. The atmosphere’s electric when Hoseok makes his way out of the park, after having spent adequate time tugging his hair in frustration and anger and disappointment and in everything between, kicking the occasional rock. And maybe he had gotten mad at a duck and squawked at it, and maybe the duck had squawked back and maybe a couple of people passing by had given him weird looks but that’s neither here nor there.
And besides, he thinks he’s justified in acting the way he did. His to-be husband essentially just promised that he would technically not be faithful to him and—
Hoseok kicks at another rock, glaring at the sky as thunder rumbles.
Just his luck.
Looking back at the ground, he hastens his footsteps, hoping to find somewhere warm before the skies pour.
In hindsight, he should have probably had a clear destination even while trying to hurry. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have just squeezed in between the huge crowd of people under one of the buildings just because a couple of drops of water had splattered over his arm.
In hindsight, he should have realised that there was a reason for so many people to gather at a place, especially when that place is outside a council member’s house, or atleast, fucking looked up and seen the posters they were holding up, but no, Hoseok had to be a dumbass for once in his fucking life, instead of the put-together rational smiley human he fakes being, and he ends up having to run from the police because they mistook him for a protestor.
A protestor against the Compatability Tests, and that too.
For fucks sake.
He’s someone who thinks it’s good and yet—
“Hey, you’ll get caught if you go that way,” a voice says beside him, and it takes Hoseok everything he has to not freak and fall into a puddle beside him, especially as he finds his wrist being encircled by long fingers and tugged in the direction of an alleyway, away from the main road and the sirens.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, turning to give the guy a piece of his mind, but then his breath catches in his throat when he sees purple hair flopping into sparkling eyes, barely held back by a headband, and a smile framed by dimples. “You’re a protestor,” he finds himself saying, letting dimple guy drag him away, admiring just how tall he is, with every long stride they take.
“That I am,” dimple guy winks, offering him a cheeky smile, and damn, those dimples. “Kim Namjoon,” he says, still beaming. “I would offer you my hand but I am kind of already dragging you along so…” He laughs, this quiet hahaha and Hoseok finds himself endeared, even as the name jogs a memory.
“Wait,” Hoseok says, eyes widening. “You’re Kim Namjoon.”
Namjoon grins at him, pace never slowing down as they take a turn into a quieter, much more dingy alley, and really, Hoseok can hear Jimin yelling at him in his head to be a little more careful and not let strangers drag him off to god knows where, but in that moment, he feels like he’ll be okay with this Kim Namjoon. He feels much more okay than he’s been feeling the whole day, and he wants to keep the buzz of the moment going on for as long as he can—this buzz with Kim Namjoon smiling at him, all pretty teeth and plush lips, and dragon eyes that twinkle, as he says,
“I believe that’s how I introduced myself. But if you’re asking if I am that Kim Namjoon as in the one who got caught sneaking into a council member’s house—”
“Breaking into,” Hoseok finds himself automatically correcting him, and is gifted with the sight of dimples appearing as Namjoon shoots him an indignant look.
“Sneaking into,” Namjoon says, eyes narrowed, but there’s mirth in them, and oh, he’s so cute, nothing like the news had painted him out to be. “And it was for a good cause!” He protests,” still tugging Hoseok along with him. “I just wanted to leave a copy of the petition by his bedside so that he could get more acquainted with it’s contents. It’s not my fault that he left a chair along the way for me to trip over.”
“Right, it was the chair’s fault you got caught,” Hoseok finds himself replying, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the way Namjoon glares at him, button nose twitching. “You broke into his house to leave a copy of petition you technically couldn’t submit without evidence but they were big meanies who left a chair out and arrested you for a crime you never committed.”
“You’re being sarcastic,” Namjoon says, pretending to be mad but his eyes twinkle as he makes a dramatic bow. “But yes, that is me. Part Time Rebel Kim Namjoon at your service.”
“What’s your full-time job then?” Hoseok finds himself asking, lips curling upwards into a smile.
“Oh that—”
“His full-time job is giving us headaches at the station,” a new voice cuts them off, and Hoseok finds himself careening into Namjoon as Namjoon halts, a rueful smile on his face.
“Ah, Jackson, you always know how to find me.”
The police officer shakes his head at Namjoon, heaving a long-suffering sigh as he makes his way over, but Hoseok can glean the amusement in his gaze and that’s probably the only thing that’s keeping him from not breaking into cold sweat. That and probably the fact that this is not even the worst thing that’s happened to him that day.
After all, if he were to rank the day’s events from worst to the pits of hell, this would probably even classify as fun if only so that Hoseok can justify his heart going ba-dum ba-dum at Namjoon’s dimples.
“And who’s this guy? Have you started dragging newbies into the protests, Namjoon-ah?” Jackson asks, pulling Hoseok out of his thoughts, even as he slaps cuffs onto Namjoon’s wrist, not so gently manhandling him.
“I—”
“Okay, first off, it’s not a protest,” Namjoon says. “It’s an awareness campaign. And we do it just once a week so that more people know about the cause, which is something you—”
“Already know,” Jackson finishes.
“Secondly, he walked into the protest by mistake, Jackson” Namjoon goes on, jutting his lower lip out at the officer and Hoseok’s distracted from his worries for a second because is Namjoon pouting? Is the supposedly famed rebel—the one who’s been writing letters to all council men and giving them a headache for the past half year—pouting? “He had nothing to do with it. Just let him go.”
Jackson looks at Hoseok consideringly, and Hoseok wonders for a second if he’s going to be let go scot free—
“I am sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Protocol says we bring him in. And it’s just filling in some forms, paying the penalty and then—”
“But he did nothing,” Namjoon protests, downright sulking and Jackson glares at him.
“He was caught with you. That’s like worse than being part of a prote—awareness campaign,” Jackson corrects himself, as Namjoon glares at him.
“You’re with me now, too,” Namjoon says petulantly, and Hoseok just wants to laugh—just feels so so endeared and—later, he’ll question how sane he was at that moment to not be panicking about his previously spotless record being blemished. Later, he’ll wonder why he wasn’t worried about how he would explain this to his mother. Later, he’ll wonder why Namjoon made him feel free-r than he had in years—but for now, he steps up and decides to let Jackson out of his misery.
“I’ll come with you guys,” he says, before Jackson can reply, and the two of them can fall into what seems to be a familiar rabbit hole of bickering, and really, if Namjoon is this comfortable with a cop, Hoseok can only wonder how often he’s been in at a police station.
Namjoon turns to look at him, mouth dropping open.
“You don’t have to—”
“He needs to,” Jackson says, quelling him with a look, and Hoseok finds himself squeezing Namjoon’s shoulder.
“It’s okay. Let him do his job.”
Jackson shakes his head.
“You’re a menace, Namjoon-ah,” he complains, as he leads them both to the police car. “But I believe you guys, so I’ll make sure there’s no black spot on his record. Can’t waive the fine though. Now will you please get in?” He asks, opening the door.
Namjoon turns to look at Hoseok, and Hoseok realises he’s being given a choice. Realises that he could protest and that between him and Namjoon they could talk Jackson into letting him leave, but maybe it’s the electricity of the storm in the air, or maybe it’s just him saying fuck it all because he finds himself saying,
“We’ll get in.”
(Or maybe it’s Namjoon and his wild hair and sparkling eyes and pretty dimples.)
(Maybe it’s Hoseok wanting to spend more time with this Kim Namjoon, who makes him feel alive in ways that he didn’t know he could—makes him see the world suddenly in startling colour, even if the night is supposed to paint shadows of grey and blue.)