↝ are you sure you don't have any childhood grudge against sug-
shut the fuck up and just take the order, latte boy ↜
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| where min yoongi seems to prefer extra black americano, but the red-haired barista is de...
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The doctor turns around with the black plastic sheet in his hand and shakes the glasses off his face.
"Well, it just so happens that your ankle isn't broken. It's simply sprained. A good ice pack should do the magic, if applied for a week. Also, uh," the man squints down on the report issued from the desk, "Min Yoongi, please do not put any pressure on your ankle." The nurse beams at them as the doctor says this, like she just heard most interesting news on earth, and Yoongi still seems unsure if it is good news or a bad news. His sprained ankle that is.
But Hoseok smiles at the doctor, as the man leaves in flair of his white coat, in his that's-good-news-doc smile and Yoongi finds it difficult to look away from his face. What the hell, Yoongi?
"So a sprained ankle, is it?" Hoseok asks as his fingers gently prod the swollen area and he hisses and swats away the affectionate hand.
"Don't touch it. Do you have a problem with instructions?"
"Hyung, I am being nice. Soak it up."
"Please, your face is lit like a lamp twenty five eight, so don't give me that crap." Yoongi huffs and faces away from the grinning red head, but a small part of him smiles when Hoseok gently pulls his hurt ankle up on his lap and caresses it. And rubs gentle, soothing circles on it.
Hoseok, in almost every action, reminds Yoongi of Namjoon. There is an almost imperceptible flash of a similar event behind Yoongi's eyelids, where a fourteen year old Namjoon whispers soft, soothing words to a fifteen year old Yoongi, who sits on the dewy grass with his twisted ankle on his best friend's lap as the said boy rubs soothing circles on the swelling. Namjoon tucks his stray strands behind his hair and smil—
"Oh my god, you two are so adorable! My boyfriend should learn from you guys!" The sudden shrill breaks Yoongi out of his daydream and he is utterly confused why the composed Hoseok is suddenly a blushing mess and the nurse has this obscenely disgusting kawaii look on her face.
"What?"
"She, um, she thinks we are together," mutters the blushing mess before him and Yoongi is certain that the nurse has a death wish.
"What the fuck? No, hell no. Lord, do have mercy if this shithead ever asks me out." The nurse's face falls quite a few meters and she stutters a sorry before hastily busing herself with rearranging the bed and walking out with a swish of her skirts.
"That was quite a joke, huh?" The redhead chuckles under his baseless scrutiny, but not before Yoongi's eyes pick up the darting flash of hurt in Hoseok's brown eyes. He should not have been this harsh.
"Not a joke exactly. I don't think your boyfriend would like people thinking his man being someone else's." His tone is softer now, a wistful longing hidden between words.
"How'd you kn—," The shrill ringtone cuts into their conversation and Yoongi decides on focusing on the calendar sporting scenic views on the doctor's tabletop, instead of on Hoseok's heart shaped lips and tousled red hair. Goddamn the fact that he can feel himself slipping for Hoseok, for no apparent reason.
You're supposed to hate him, right?
"I am not home, Joon. I had to take my friend to the hospital. The nutcase slipped on the ice and now he has a sprained ankle." Did Hoseok just identify him as his friend? "Remember Yoongi? That's him." Shit, shit, double-triple-shit. "No, no, you don't have to come. I brought my car. I'll be back as soon as the nutcase reaches home." He'll take me home and I'll die on the road. Lord, please send Jin here by a miracle. Please. "Joon, you need to stop..." Hoseok takes a tentative look towards the midnight haired boy and walks further away, watching for signs of eavesdropping, but Yoongi grew up in a house where eavesdropping lead to survival, and Hoseok could never guess why he is so intently fixated on the calendar.
He returns a minute later, an angry flush blooming across his cheeks, but Yoongi does not question. He has intruded enough already.
"So, do you wanna go back now? Or rest a bit while longer?" They did fight, yet, the redhead smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed.
The clock on the wall ticks closer towards nine, and Yoongi unsuccessfully hoists himself up on the bed to fall down again.
"You can ask me, you know?" Hoseok's breathe smells of peppermint and cinnamon as he bunches up Yoongi on his chest to place him on the proffered wheelchair and Yoongi is certain his face is betraying him big time.
"Sorry about the breathe. Jimin stuffed my face with peppermint candies just before I left the shop." The sheepish smile nudges Yoongi to smile back with that adorable gummy smile he only pulls on for his dead mother's photograph in his wallet and for Jin.
And Yoongi is not certain if it's the heady waft of peppermint or his loose brain, but he utters it anyways, because fuck it, he always has liked peppermint more when Namjoon was near.
