Heaven ◈ Yoonseok

002 » cherubic

—M.YG

"You're Hoseok, right?"

"We literally just met, Yoongi."

"I thought I knew you from somewhere."

Silence.

"Hoseok who?"

"Jung."

"Ah. I'm a Min."

"Cute."

Silence.

Yoongi breaths in deeply, casting his gaze down to his almost empty coffee cup as he swirls the remaining liquid in circles, trying to distract the buzzing in his head.

"Sorry about before."

"Don't worry about it, darling."

Yoongi glances at Hoseok, and makes a few delicious seconds of unplanned eye contact. Hoseok smiles at the boy warmly, and curse every Greek god immortalised in stone, because here it is again, liquid gold injected directly into Yoongi's blood stream. He feels the boy's sweet, melodious voice intoxicate his entire body with every single syllable, exploding in hues of sanguine and magenta behind his eyelids, and lining each cell of his body.

Yoongi has to remember to breathe, force the air into his lungs, as his gaze flickers away from the fucking delicious blonde haired boy before him.

After a deep breath through a tight jaw, he dares to glance down at Hoseok's body. Luckily, Hoseok has now looked away and doesn't regard Yoongi's mental break down as he notices the lanyard around Hoseok's neck. He goes through about twenty facial expressions in a split second before opening his mouth in a gasp.

"You work here?" Yoongi practically shouts, sounding tenfold more taken aback than intended.

Hoseok startles a little, turning back to the black haired boy and laughing out a breathy 'Yes.'

Yoongi catches his mouth, eyes opening wide in realisation of how much of an ass he's making of himself. "Sorry-"

"Stop apologising, you're cute."

Yoongi can practically feel his eyes roll back into his head as a heat wave licks over his body. He tightens his fists, almost crushing the cup in order to control himself. Instead of screaming right on the spot, Yoongi somehow manages to get his breathing in control as he speaks back, "Not as cute as you."

Hoseok looks up from the pad in his hands and smiles, a ridiculously wide and sunny smile, eyes wrinkling up and gosh, Yoongi's heart stops right there.

"God, you're perfect, Hoseok."

Yoongi wonders who on Earth would say something as petty as that right now, who would be stupid enough to so forwardly speak to the God that is, without crying through the words, but then a bus tonne of air hits him, right in the gut as he realises that those words slipped from his lips. He's being the opposite of cool right now, and he has to summon all of the strength in his body not to double over and groan at his stupidity. He feels so dizzy. Jung Hoseok is dizzying.

"Thank you, Yoongi." The boy smiles innocently, very clearly wise enough to know exactly how Yoongi is feeling, exactly how the thought processes racing away in the older boy's head make his blood hyperactive.

Hoseok tips his head to the side, letting it loll against his shoulder as he frowns with feigned innocence, "Are you okay, darling?"

Yoongi breathes, "I'm fine, sorry, just a little flustered..."

"Why is that?"

The fire in Yoongi's eyes is from the deepest depths of hell as he glares at Hoseok, only earning a chuckle from the sunny boy.

"You really are cute, Yoongi." Hoseok giggles. Yes, he fucking giggles. Deep, mellifluous and everything that Yoongi has been missing for 18 years.

Yoongi feels his breath get stuck in his throat, blood getting hot and itchy, completely in a daze as he watches Hoseok's Adam's apple move, watches the older boy swallow rhythmically, and blink his eyes shut, and lick his lips, and fuck, fuck, f u c k.

"I have to go to... I need- I'm going. What? I'm- Bye."

Yoongi turns on his heel, nails digging into his palm, deep enough to leave crescent moons of sanguine. Every curse in every language floods his head as he runs away, pushing through a few tourists. A flurry of different hues flash behind his eye lids as he inhales, inhales, but the air is not nearly enough to fill his lungs. Not even close.

He drowns on a void, pushing open one, two doors and running over to a sink, hands on either side of the white bowl as his head whirs. He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales, inhales, inhales, and then with a sharp lash, every colour in the world prickles through his veins as he finds what he needs.

His rucksack slips off his left shoulder then his right, and swings around his body, hitting the counter with an unhealthy crack but that doesn't concern him right now.

Happiness, in the pot. Yes, the orange one. Happiness is in orange pot. His shaking fingers pull the white lid off, the welcoming chug of pills running over his palm like stars as he empties them out.

Silence.

Finally, he can exhale. He lets a warm breath seep from his dry lips, licking them slightly as he gazes at his reflection.

A thumb brushes over his mouth, and Yoongi really can't help himself from finding it calming, big pupils and a big grin staring back at him.

He has to keep looking, has to keep up this distraction. And so he lowers his gaze, just a few centimeters, resting it on the bobbing of his adam's apple, simultaneous with his constant swallowing. He looks a disheveled mess.

After a few minutes of staring at the boy, in the mirror, in the empty bathroom, Yoongi checks his phone;

7:12pm.

He smiles to himself. Better catch that bus.