Finding My Place

ii

Opening the door, Hoseok's greeted by what feels like a wall of sound, of joyful shrieking and affectionate teasing and the scraping of cutlery against plates, and he gestures for Yoongi to follow him. He tosses his keys into the bowl by the front door, takes off his coat, places his and Yoongi's shoes in two spaces in the cubbyholes by the door, then starts to lead the silent boy through the living room, past the kitchen – trashed, as he expected – and into the dining room, where three smiling faces notice him.

"Hi, Dad, how was work?" the tallest boy asks, then catches his father examining the mess on their plates. "Oh, the twins were hungry and we didn't know when you'd be home, so I made samgyeopsal, but I couldn't find everything we needed so I improvised."

"Tastes pretty good." says the shortest, voice muffled through a mouthful of grilled pork. "Jin's a good cook."

"Jimi, don't talk with your mouth full." his father scolds him gently. "Is there any food left? We've got another mouth to feed."

He looks behind him, noticing how Yoongi's standing back in the kitchen, staring at the ground, one arm tugging at his opposite sleeve, kicking his feet. The boy looks up, catching his eyes in a soft gaze, and he gestures for him to come closer.

Yoongi's a lot paler than the others, he realises when looking at the other three boys, and much more solemn. Maybe it's because he's been in juvie, or because of all the different families he's lived with, but he's not like them. He's shy and self-contained, and he's pretty sure they're all staring at his bandaged nose.

"Guys, this is Yoongi, he's gonna be staying with us for a while. Yoongi, these are my sons: Seokjin, the eldest, but we all call him Jin; Jimin, the shorter but older twin; and Tae, the baby of the family. We hope you'll feel welcome here."

Yoongi glances at them blankly, then back at the ground. A hand rests on his shoulder, and he looks up at Hoseok.

"I'm gonna grab you a plate from the kitchen, then we'll get some food in you. You must be hungry."

He nods softly. The father disappears for a moment, returning with a pristine white plate, which he fills to the brim with the sizzling meat that's left in the centre of the table, along with a little salad.

"Eat up." Hoseok encourages him, pulling a chair out for him. He hesitates for a moment before sitting down and starting to carefully cut up his food.

"Hey, when's Appa gonna be home?" asks the eldest, then he notices the glint of surprise in Yoongi's eyes. "Oh, yeah, we have two dads."

"So, you're, like, gay?"

"Yeah," Hoseok nods, giving him a smile, "well, I'm gay, my husband's bi. Is that a problem?"

"No," Yoongi shrugs, "I think it's kinda cool. Two people to teach you sports and how to shave and stuff."

"Oh, we don't teach the kids how to play sports." Hoseok tells him. "Well, we teach them what we know, but only if they want to learn. We don't force them into any extracurriculars, we let them choose because they're their lives, not ours."

"Appa taught us how to run properly so we don't hurt ourselves." Jimin pipes up. "He runs every day."

"He's kind of a freak." his twin brother chimes in. "Gets up at 5am every day just so he can go for a run before work."

"Hey, hey, we don't use that kind of language here." Hoseok scolds him. "Appa's not a freak, he just likes staying in shape."

Yoongi gives a slight smile at the dynamic family in front of him – he's always wanted this, to be part of something special, to feel like he might actually belong somewhere.

But he has to remember that this is only temporary. That Man-Shik wasn't available, so he got stuck with... he doesn't know the guy's name. And that's why he's here. He's here on a technicality. This won't last – he'll be here for two weeks, max. Just enough time to get settled in, then he'll be ripped out of safety and plopped somewhere else.

He's ripped out of his spiralling thoughts by the sound of the door unlocking, and after a little shuffling, a bright-faced young man enters the room. His glasses perch gently on the bridge of his nose, dimples on show, and he breathes a relieved sigh as he sits down at the table and helps himself to a little salad.

It's only when he lifts his fork to eat that he notices Yoongi staring at him, and puts the fork down, smiling.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met." he extends a hand over the table. "I'm Namjoon."

Yoongi takes it, shaking it gently and not saying a word as his eyes wander, trying to avoid the other male's.

"Baby, this is Yoongi." Hoseok stands over him, kissing the top of his head. "I left you a voicemail, but I guess you didn't listen to it."

"Oh, no, sorry, I had my phone on silent."

"Yoongi got out of juvie today, but he didn't have anywhere to go, so one of my old colleagues called me and asked if we could take him for a while." Hoseok explains, then hesitates as he looks at the boy. "I-I didn't mean- I'm sorry, I worded that wrong. One of my colleagues asked if we'd give Yoongi a place to stay for a while."

"Oh," Joon shrugs, "well, that's fine. You'll always have a place here, even if you end up somewhere else and just want a change of scenery."

The rest of the evening is pleasant. Full of camaraderie, the right kind of noise, good food – Yoongi hasn't experienced this in a long time. He's spent the last 6 months in juvie, surrounded by hate and violence and fear – a whole lot of fucking fear – and now he's just expected to slot back into life on the outside? That's not fair.

"Yoongi,"

Yoongi blinks, then looks up wearily. "Hm?"

"Aw, I bet you're tired, huh?" Namjoon pouts sympathetically. "Hoseok's just getting a couple spare pillows and blankets for you, and Jin said you can borrow some of his clothes until we can take you shopping."

"Mhm, thank you."

"We'll be upstairs – last room on the left – so just holler if you need anything. Oh, and we will get you a bed soon, this was all just very sudden so we didn't have much time to prepare."

"It's okay." Yoongi says softly, but can't help but feel a little outcasted. Like he's a burden on them, something unexpected and unpleasant that's just been dumped on them without warning. It makes him want to cry, but he doesn't want to cry in front of a stranger. Doesn't want to seem weak, when inside, all he is, is scared. He's terrified.

"You know where the kitchen is if you get hungry or thirsty," Namjoon pauses to accept the pile of bedclothes from his husband, "and, yeah, just come get us if you need something. Are you gonna be okay down here on your own?"

"Mhm, I think so. I was pretty much alone in juvie anyway."

"Well, I don't want you to have to feel alone. You can turn the TV on if you like, even if you just want some background noise while you sleep. Whatever you need, Yoon." the man ruffles his hair gently. "Alright, I'll leave you to get comfy."

He starts to leave, and Yoongi feels something in his chest, like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what or how. Joon stops for a moment, doubling back and offering him a little smile.

"G'night, Yoongi. Remember, if you need us, we're just upstairs."

The boy nods, starting to curl up in the blanket he's been given, and lets out a yawn. "Night."

The room falls dark with a little flick of the light switch, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He takes this time to look around – he's always preferred the dark anyway. The walls are lined with photos – smiling faces, days at the beach, first days of school – and the walls painted a dark merlot, floorboards polished to perfection, an olive-green rug perched directly in the centre of the floor, soft under his toes.

He's just drifting off when his body jerks awake – probably a reflex from juvie – and a single word leaves his dry, parted lips.

"Jungkook."