Sope One Shots

Clearing up

Hoseok leant against the closed door. Breath in for 8, hold for 4, out for 8. Repeat.

"Are you okay?" The middle aged woman next to him asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."

"I'll come back in about an hour okay?"

Hoseok nodded, his forehead still against the door. He closed his eyes and heard her footsteps pad away. He should've been nicer to her. He knew she was hurting too. Obviously. But he felt like he'd forgotten how to be kind or thoughtful or bright. How to be sunshine.

He opened the door slowly and stepped into the room. Until 2 weeks ago he was in this room almost every day. There was still that hoodie slung over the back of his desk chair, his bed made the way only he made it: grabbing one edge of the duvet and flopping it about until it roughly covered the bed. Hoseok realised he'd been holding his breath. He finally exhaled, and on the inhale, smelt Yoongi's scent surrounding him. And the weight of the world crashed down on his shoulders all over again. He staggered over to the bed and sat down, practising those deep breathing techniques his new therapist had given him. 8, 4, 8. 8, 4, 8. Okay.

He forced himself to stand. He couldn't get anything done sat down. And he was here for a reason. He was here to get rid of anything unsavoury so his mother wouldn't have to accidentally discover his secret porn stash or a pile of books on pagan sacrifice or something. And it was a chance to say goodbye to all this stuff. All these remnants of a life.

He'd been coming to see him. He was crossing the road on his way over when this guy, this fucking guy, had been going too fast and looking at his phone and didn't have time to swerve. Hoseok got the call first because Yoongi had his Mum under her real name in his phone so the police didn't know who to call and Hoseok was the last person he texted. Nothing had been the same since. Nothing felt real, or bright. The world was like a picture printed on damp cardboard. It didn't feel real or vibrant or worth anything at all.

Hoseok opened Yoongi's laptop on his desk and cleared his browser history. He didn't look at it. He started looking around the room for places that would be good for stashing secrets. In the back of the wardrobe he found a little box of sweets and chocolates. He smiled. Yoongi didn't like sweets all that much, he only ate them when he was really upset, so they'd hardly been touched. If they'd been in Hoseok's room they'd be gone in 10 minutes.

He left them there. He didn't feel like eating sweets now. In fact, he didn't feel like eating anything really.

He looked around the whole room thoroughly, eyes glossing over the memories held in each object. If he let himself focus on each one it would overwhelm him far too quickly.

He hadn't really found anything unsavoury. Yoongi had been a good kid, and the internet existed to satisfy whatever needs he had that he mother didn't want to think about.

Hoseok went to the door and looked across the room, knowing it would probably be the last time he saw it before it got packed up by Yoongi's parents and given to another student. As he stood and tried to hold back his tears, something caught his eye from under the bed.

He reached down and picked up a smooth, grey notebook. It wasn't s schoolbook; Hoseok knew Yoongi liked to use the notebooks you could buy at the library with the name of their university embossed on the front for his notes. He'd never seen this book before. He opened it.

Dear Kitty,

I always forget the important things. So I'm going to write this book because I've met someone important and I don't want to forget any of it. Maybe it won't turn into anything. Or maybe it will be everything. I don't know. But I'm recording the journey.

Yoongi

Hoseok stroked his hand over the pages, marked with that handwriting that felt so familiar and safe to him. He flipped the book to a random page.

Dear Kitty,

Hoseok is so beautiful I think I might cry. We went to walk by the river today and he saw some ducks and smiled, I wish I could describe how it looks properly but it's like everything is duller besides him because he's so bright and beautiful nothing else seems real. I want to make him smile like that all the time. I wish I knew how.

Yoongi

Hoseok noticed a tear hit the page. He didn't want to ruin those precious words. He sat on the bed, knees drawn up to his body, arms resting on them and holding the book parallel to his face so his tears couldn't fall on the page.

Dear Kitty,

I did it. I told him.

We were at this party at some rich guy's house. I'm not even sure he goes to the uni I don't know why we were there, but he had a balcony and I was slightly more drunk than I'd like and Hoseok took me out onto the balcony because he thought I needed some air and I told him I liked him, like like like, and he laughed and I said I was serious and he looked at me and then he kissed me.

I've never kissed anyone before. I don't know if I did it right, or if it was special for him, but to me, it was so perfect. I knew he'd be important.

Yoongi.

Hoseok's hands shook as he turned to the last entry. It was dated the day he died.

Dear Kitty,

I don't think I've ever been this happy. People say it in such poetic ways but honestly, I'm so in love I feel like my kidneys are gonna fall out my butt. It's not poetic but at least it's real.

I'm going to see him today, like every day, and I still feel so excited. Does he feel that excited to see me? How could he? He's the sun and the moon and the stars, he's exciting and vibrant and makes everyone feel special and beautiful, and I'm just a grandpa.

It doesn't matter. As long as I get to spend more time with him, I'm happy.

I think I might tell him I love him today.

I love you, Hoseok. Can you imagine?

Yoongi.

Hoseok could barely see the page for the tears swimming across his vision. He put the book under his jacket and left. He didn't need anything else from that room. This was the only piece of Yoongi he needed now.