Home (Taehyung x BTS)

IV: Jung Hoseok

A little over a year had passed since Namjoon's death. Taehyung had a drastic change since then. 

He still spoke with Jackson, but not nearly as much as he used to. He smoked more and smiled less; his coworkers didn't understand why Taehyung had changed so much and so fast. The thirty-year-old didn't care about what they said about him. 

He no longer cared about anything.

At the moment, Taehyung sat at a bar. Most of his nights were spent getting absolutely smashed -- even worse than before he met Namjoon. He watched the bartender glide effortlessly behind the bar, jet-black hair blown out of his face by the little breeze he created; maybe he had on roller skates. 

Taehyung had seen this bartender quite often. He was rather cute -- maybe two years Taehyung's senior? -- and very charismatic. Regulars at the bar flirted with him; his coworkers called him JHope, so the regulars started calling him that, too. He always smiled when people called him that, but he got very uncomfortable when people flirted with him in the way they did. 

He would mumble to himself and occasionally be escorted to the break room by coworkers whenever he acted out. Taehyung thought it was odd, but he never judged the bartender for it; everyone had their own issues to deal with, in his opinion.

"Hello, Mr Kim!" the cute bartender beamed, flashing his big smile as he approached Taehyung. Taehyung nodded to him, taking notice of the way their eyes never met. 

"I'll get your drink shortly." 

He zoomed off to the back wall full of liquor bottles, earning a quick, "Watch out, Hobi!" from a female coworker. She noticed the man at the end of the bar and made her way towards him, a knowing smirk on her face. 

"You're interested in Hoseok, aren't you?" 

So that was his real name.

"Maybe. Why?" Taehyung snipped, but the girl didn't even flinch. 

"Because I came to warn you. Hoseok is autistic, and we're all very protective of him."

Taehyung nodded, taking in all this new information. "Is that why his facial expressions change a lot and he mumbled?" he asked, but was completely floored by the next set of news. 

"I think so," she said, "but there could be something else we don't know about."

-------

The next time Taehyung saw Hoseok wasn't at the bar; they ran into each other at the metro station. 

The interior designer had just blown out the last cloud of smoke as he left one of the smoking sections, popping a piece of gum in his mouth before he got on the crowded train to go home (one of his clients lived a ways from Seoul, so he went out to meet them).

He had just secured a seat for himself when Hoseok came rolling into the crowded train car. White roller skates were strapped to his feet. 

Taehyung noticed that there were no more available seats or handholds; as soon as the train began to move, Hoseok would go flying. 

"Excuse me, JHope?" At the sound of the nickname and voice, Hoseok turned in Taehyung's direction. 

He smiled the largest smile, waving enthusiastically. "Hi, Mr Kim!" 

Taehyung smiled and beckoned him over. "Hey. As soon as the train moves, you're gonna go flying. So, um, do you want me to...hold you? I don't want you to fall on your face."

Hoseok hated questions, so he usually never gave a response to them. Still, he had to give the pretty man some kind of reply. 

He answered by sitting in Taehyung's lap. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, tensing when Taehyung situated him to sit sideways so that his roller skates wouldn't trip other people. 

"You're welcome." Taehyung locked his arms around Hoseok's midsection as the train began moving. 

"I'm Jung Hoseok and thirty-three years old. I needed more medicine to make me feel better."

Taehyung was mildly surprised by the random introduction, but it made him smile just a little. "I'm Kim Taehyung, thirty years old. I do interior design."

Hoseok relaxed just a little; he always enjoyed talking to Taehyung. "Call me Hobi."

The younger nodded and offered a smile. "Only if you call me Tae."

"Pretty TaeTae."

Taehyung found it in himself to blush; the only person to ever call him pretty had been dead for nine years, so he wasn't used to the compliment. He hummed as the train turned and Hoseok rested his head on his shoulder. 

"You're pretty too, Hobi."