UNIVERSE / BTS.

49: my dream still remains / 2seok

MY DREAM
STILL REMAINS
( part 2 )

WORD COUNT 1.3K
OVERVIEW and maybe they'll never meet again. but it's just one night ( TW: gay slurs )

PLAYLIST the truth untold / bts, blue / troye sivan, two ghosts / harry styles

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OUTSIDE OF THE CLUB, hoseok feels like he can breathe. he's not entirely sure why he fucking agreed to talk to this pretty boy pink haired stranger, but as the glammed up pinkette sits down on the pavement, crossing his legs, he doesn't entirely regret it.

it's not quiet, muffled music and car engines mixing, and the click of a lighter with a golden flame in the corner of hoseok's eye catches his attention. pretty boy lights up a cig, taking it from his lips and exhaling, before looking up at hoseok, calm. "so, hope, you gunna sit or what?" he drawls, partially deadpanning, but he sounds sincere enough. hoseok chuckles bitterly, sitting beside him on chilled night concrete, tan hand next to pretty's own thin moonlight pale fingers. pretty smokes for a bit, before turning to hoseok.

"so, what's your problem?"

hoseok actually laughs then, because what a passive way to ask a dying man if he's okay. tilting his head back, he observes lilac-purple polluted california skies, not a star in sight, and sighs, the air making a small amount of stream in its wake. hoseok looks back at pretty, who's still awaiting an answer.

"what's my problem?" hoseok asks, and pretty nods. "what the fuck do you care, pretty boy. you ain't got an idea of what an actual problem is."

"yeah, but," pretty retorts, blowing smoke purposely into hoseok's face with a sweet but bitter smile. "betcha' want someone to listen to ya, huh hope?"

"don't call me that. it's hoseok," hoseok says, leaning back on his elbows. the leather pants on his legs are far too tight, but he can't do much about it, so he shifts slightly and bites at his lip. "fuck... where do i even fucking– i hate myself."

pretty's eyes widen– they always do that, when people hear those three words– and he throws the cigarette, suddenly concerned. "no, don't say that," he's soft voiced, less cocky than before. "why're you saying that?"

hoseok sighs again. no one ever gets it, that's the problem, because he's alright to everyone until he states those three words and breaks down. his fingers tug at his hair, frustrated, nails digging into his scalp. "i fucking– i dunno! i dunno where to begin, because you won't fucking get it, will you, pretty?"

"it's jin," the pinkette says suddenly. "and i will get it. even if i don't, just tell me, hoseok, and i'll try to understand. you obviously need someone to listen to you."

"everyone just hears, they don't fucking listen," hoseok sighs out. he's tired, so fucking tired, and drunk, but not as much as he could be. "fuck, i just want to be listened to. can you do that? please?"

jin nods, passing hoseok a cigarette, seeing as the rocker has been staring at the packet. hoseok thanks him and lights up, exhaling mist mingled with smoke, lungs filled with noxious nicotine. he takes one last look at the starless sky, before speaking.

"my dad disowned me, my mother's dead and i found out that my brother killed himself last week."

jin's eyes widen, lips parting in a silent gasp. white teeth latch onto a pink, plump bottom lip, worrying it, and hoseok appreciates the silent sincerity that comes with the, "i'm so sorry, hoseok... i can't imagine what that's like."

"knew you wouldn't," hoseok responds. for some reason they're speaking quietly, still audible but only just. jin motions for hoseok to continue, the raven haired boy dragging long on the cigarette and speaking as smoke floats around him. "my dad's a bastard, first of all. he... doesn't appreciate my career choices, wanted me to be the heir of his company. my mum died when i was young, and my dad became an abusive drunk fucking asshole," his voice cracks on the last word, poison tears stinging at his eyes. "the only thing keeping me going was my music– mum taught me bass and piano, and showed me amazing bands like the beatles, the rolling stones and guns n roses. shit, i miss her so much."

"i know," jin replies, hand ghosting over hoseok's. "my dad died when i was young too... it sucks."

"understatement," hoseok laughs bitterly. "i moved out at sixteen after my dad broke my ribs when he came home drunk and decided i was worthless because i didn't tidy up his fucking mess. i'd been at school all fucking day. my friends and i are a world famous band now, but my fucking father can't even be happy for me." hoseok's eyes sting with angry, hateful tears.

"it's the anniversary of her death today," he breathes out shakily. "i– i phoned dad. he fucking hates me for not being there because i'm on tour with my "faggot band". thinks i sucked someone's cock to get where i am, thinks i'm a fucking whore–"

jin can hear the string that's keeping hoseok sane snap; that's when the tears start to pour down bronze cheeks. the ravenette cries, so broken, and jin does all he can. holds him, letting his shirt get stained with eyeliner tears, feeling the sobs that wreck hoseok's body as everything just pours out. hoseok's gasping out incomprehensible words, clinging tight to jin's shirt. it's his only thing, the only thing keeping him grounded.

"i– i just want to f-fucking die, jin, that's all i fucking want. then no one would have to deal with my shit–" hoseok's voice is so full of emotion, but jin negates the statement with a firm shake of his head.

"no, you don't," he whispers, stroking fingers through hoseok's hair. veritable strangers, that's what they are, but jin feels strangely connected to hoseok in this moment, like he needs to save him. "hoseok... i know we don't know each other, but i'll be damned if i'm not going to stop you from killing yourself. you've got a lot to live for; your friends, your music, your fans, yourself. you can't let your asshole dad beat you down. your mum– she wouldn't want that."

he doesn't even realise the fact that he's speaking the way lovers do, his free hand brushing circles on hoseok's back, and he doesn't know how much his words mean to hoseok. the bassist is falling, hard and fast, into a dark pit, but jin threw him a rope, a lifeline, offered to mend the broken strings inside him. hoseok pulls away, looking jin in the eyes, his own bloodshot and rimmed with black tear stains.

"i know you want to see your mum, and your brother," jin says, soft, hand going to cup hoseok's cheek. "but give it a few more decades, yeah? forget your dad. be you. you're not whatever he called you; you're you. and you seem quite amazing from what i've found."

it's then that hoseok yanks away the metaphorical bandaid, let's himself take control of the situation. he leans in, eyes shutting, and suddenly he and jin are kissing, plump lips pressed to bitten ones, pale skin next to tan. it's so odd, unorthodox, the whole situation, because they only just met but hoseok's poured out his soul and jin listened and kept him okay. he doesn't want to die. that much is sure.

the kiss is full of deep emotion, a lost soul having found its home, a broken heart half-mended. neither of them can stop, caught up in each other, and it's only when wonho and johnny come that they can force themselves apart, being picked up by their respective friends and forced away.

maybe they'll never meet again. but for what it's worth, seokjin saved hoseok. and hoseok made seokjin realise he had to stop taking his luxury for granted. two strangers, but not for long.

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fuck okay what the shit was that lmao enjoy my half assed attempt at poetic writing

i have a phys ed exam today lol wish me luck

ilyasm
– jace