Too Close for Comfort

Flashbacks

Yoongi (age 10, 14 years ago)
I hated him on first sight. The stupid kid clutching my mommy's hand and looking at me with fear. Stupid baby. He was a year or so younger than me but we might as well be worlds apart.
I refused to acknowledge him as my little brother. He looked nothing like me anyway, must take after his stupid daddy who stole my mommy. I can't believe she left me behind with the worthless excuse for a dad for this brat.
He refused to leave my mom's side as I glared at him hatefully.
"Yoongi, baby, play nice with your brother." Mommy said as she left him with me.
I scowl at the little twerp as he runs into the corner and cowers from me. I smile at this. I wanted to hit him so bad. I stalked over to him and clenched my fists. "What's your name? How old are you?" I demand but he just bites his lip and starts to cry.
I scoffed at this and rolled my eyes. Such a baby. Daddy would destroy this kid in a second. "I'm Yoongi. Don't call me hyung. I'm 10." I stated proudly.
He sniffled and stuttered out, "I'm H-Hoseok. I'm a-almost 9." He leaned away from me when I sit down beside him. I hated this kid so much for being so weak, 8 years old or not. Daddy would beat me if I acted like that.
"I hate you, you know. You stole my mom." I glared.
"I'm s-sorry." He cried.
"You should be but what for?" I asked in annoyance.
"F-for being b-born."
Guilt tried to fill me but I pushed the emotion away and sighed. It wasn't really his fault I guess. He didn't ask to be in this world like I didn't ask to be born to be left in abusive care. The worst part was my mommy knew daddy hurt me but still left me to him.
I should really hate mommy, I guessed. "Maybe we can be friends..maybe." I said awkwardly as the crying kid looks at me in surprise. He seemed to be traumatized over this whole experience but I have no idea why. I'm the one who suffers, not him. Never him...stupid baby.

Hoseok (age 14, 9 years ago)
I followed slowly behind Yoongi as he navigated us through thick woods toward the surprise he said he'd found. He wouldn't tell me but I was excited because he was. He checked behind him often to make sure I was ok and I smiled at his care.
He never wanted me to call him hyung for some reason even though we were best friends. Well, we both had no other friends, just each other. I remembered so long ago when my mom had first took me to visit my brother.
I hadn't even known at the time I had one because we didn't live together. Yoongi lived with his dad while I stayed with our mom. I never understood why she didn't let him live with us but I thought it had something to do with my dad not wanting him around.
Yoongi caused a lot of trouble but I couldn't blame him because his dad was terrifying and abusive. He handled it the best way he could. When things got too much for him he'd sneak into our house and I'd let him hide out in my room, sometimes for days.
His dad never looked for him and that made me sad and yet happy at the same time. I loved spending time with my hyung. He stopped me and pointed at a dark cabin before us. It looked old and unused.
Yoongi went ahead and let us inside. "Hoseok, look I found us a secret hideout. No one lives here so we can come and hang out anytime without worrying about stupid people bothering us." He smiled and I returned it. I hated that since Yoongi got in trouble a lot mom wouldn't let me hang out with him anymore.
We snuck around it anyway because I couldn't lose my best friend. We hung out at that old cabin often during the summer and the very few times I skipped school for him. I had a feeling he stayed there much more than I did, though. I wished we could just live there together...
I wondered if he'd stop being my best friend if he knew I was gay. I had just discovered my preference for boys not long ago but was afraid to let him know. I didn't want him to judge me and leave me. I was afraid of what would happen to him if he no longer had me to love him.
He had no one else and I always wanted to be there for my hyung when times got rough for him. He'd never admit it but I once heard him crying when he thought I'd gone to sleep. I remembered he'd come through my window and he'd had bruises and a busted lip.
He refused to talk about it but he seemed comforted just by being around me so instead of asking questions I worked hard to take his mind off the bad things that haunted him.
I was glad he was a 'bad boy' because he protected me when people made fun of me at school. I admittedly lived a more sheltered life but he didn't seem to mind but actually prefer it. I guess he knew I'd never survive a life like his...