It didn't happen right away, but you love Hoseok with all your heart. Your first thought in the morning and the only thing on your mind before you sleep, and you'd do anything to keep it that way.
Even if it hurts.
Hoseok felt like he wasn't living anymore, just surviving these days, and he hated how he could pin point the exact moment when that changed. He missed laughing with you. Going out on random dates exploring the city and finding something new Seoul had to offer.
You started spending more time at the shop. Rearranging and labeling the walk-in coolers, sharpening the butchering knives, deep cleaning the display case.
Anything to prolong time away from him.
He offered to help you, only to realize it wasn't as hard for you to tell him no as it was for him. You left before he woke up in the mornings, eating breakfast together, a rare practically extinct pastime of yours.
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Being home alone with you now feels like you've surrounded yourself with an impenetrable wall of tension and Hoseok is the guard standing watch at the entrance, not exactly welcome but also not exactly unwelcomed.
"Wanna order get some pad thai from Daomin's tonight?" You look up from your book to see him prop himself up on the arm of the couch, the smile pulling at his lips is filled with hesitation and sprinkles of hope.
You'd expect nothing less from him, forever hopeful Hobi.
Your eyes traveled up to the alabaster strands brushing his forehead and your stomach turned. It didn't get any easier looking at him, so despite how hard it would be considering you were in a relationship and lived with the man, you decided not to.
Your eyes drop back down to your book, taking the hope that was swimming around in his chest with you. "Um yeah, that's fine." You mumble and Hoseok can practically hear his heart cracking, not used to being on the receiving end of your cold and aloof demeanor.
Not since that day on the playground.
He's not sure where it comes from, or maybe he's just telling himself that because he knows. Knows that it's been building for a while now over the last few weeks. Anger spills out of him, that horrible slimy guilt evolving and breathing life into the selfish anger he feels at your cold shoulder.
"I'm sick of this shit, I really am! You walk around here like I don't exist and–"
"Hoseok what's gotten–"
"What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you Y/N?! I dyed my hair! All I did was fucking dye my hair and now–" His voice cracks and he can feel the tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, the image of your shocked face wobbles.
"Now look at us? What is this? What are we...what are doing, duckie?" He's exhausted, broken down from all the overthinking and pretending.
You can't do anything but sit there and watch him stand there, swaying under the weight of his emotions. What were you doing? Why couldn't you fix this? You'd been fucking up and every attempt to get back on track just led to fuck up after fuck up.
