|"A cactus," Hoseok begins, then bites down hard on his tongue before letting out a low scoff. "You're telling me you're actually gonna use the shoe compartment he gave you, the shoe compartment he actually ordered online because you're awfully picky about the stuff in your house and the thing's not available elsewhere, the shoe compartment you've been raving about for the past half decade as a shelf for your fucking house plant? Are you serious now, hyung? Are you serious?"|
Seokjin twists his mouth to the side and drops his gaze to his feet. If Hoseok even plans to start an argument with him about Yoongi's inability to forget even the smallest of things about his friends, then he's going to wave his finger right in his friend's face as he does a fact check. First thing's first: it's available in Korea. In Ikea. About three, four hours away from their flat. Yoongi's just too lazy to drag his ass all the way to Gyeonggi-do to pick out the compartment that looks exactly like the one in Seokjin's vision board. Second, excuse me, Seokjin has not been pining after the same thing for the past five years. The correct figure would be two and a half, if Hoseok would just be assed to count, and, even then, Seokjin has already moved on to memory-foam cushions. Which is something Yoongi's supposed to know, especially since he claims to know Seokjin best, having shared a flat with him since they started working in Ogilvy eons ago, but hah. Looks like Yoongi's memory isn't that good, after all. And lastly, he does plan to arrange his shoes in the compartment before the start of the year. He just has to go through his extensive sneakers collection first so he'll know which ones to keep and which ones to, well, sell to Jeongguk at an outrageous price.
Kid doesn't know shit about good pricing to save his life, and Seokjin's needs all the extra money he can get so he'll have enough money in his resignation fund to get him through the first three months of his 'funemployment'. Granted, Yoongi will still be living with him post-break up with the company, and Yoongi's been pretty (strangely) generous when it comes to funding their food (and booze, too, only because they both like scotch), but still — he hates holding onto others for any semblance of balance, of stability. He hates not being in control of his own life.
He probably hates Yoongi's immaculate memory even more, though.
"Yes. And no. I'm gonna put my shoes in there, shush." He waves his hands in the air, then crosses his arms over his chest when Hoseok rolls his eyes at him in response. "I just need time to sort out my stuff, throw out what I don't need—"
"Remember you actually wrote 'surprise me' in your Dear Santa letter—"
"Actually update my inventory of— I what?"
"You wrote the thing when you were drunk. Before doing karaoke at the party. Where you kept singing love songs while looking at him in the eye." Hoseok snorts. Two beats, then he's pushing himself back up on his feet, locking his arms behind his back as he saunters closer to where Seokjin is, and the only thing Seokjin can bring himself to do is to curl his hands into tight, tight fists. He remembers that night, and the karaoke session, maybe half of the songs and half of the many different expressions that had flickered across Yoongi's features that time, too, but the letter? I wrote a letter? He was actually able to scribble a legible enough letter in his glorious state of inebriation that read, 'Hey, Min Yoongi, I can't be assed to think of what you can possibly give me other than butterflies in my fucking stomach so, yeah, surprise me. Knock my socks off'? "Yeah, of course, you have to sort out your shit first. About time you do, actually, especially since your beloved roommate's working his ass off in another country during the holidays and you're not busy trying not to miss him."
Seokjin gulps down hard. Right, Yoongi slipped out of the flat as soon as Seokjin had finished unwrapping the gift. He didn't even say 'goodbye' or tell Seokjin his cab had arrived already, I'll try to text you when I get to the hotel but no promises. Don't wait up. I'll probably be working 'til ass o' clock, anyway. Just— Don't sleep too late. You're already old. He just... disappeared from their shared apartment before Seokjin could laugh and ask, "Okay, I still don't get why you didn't want to give me this at the Christmas party. I mean, it's not super big and it's actually decent and— Hey, did you actually have this delivered just last night, you ass? Did you? Tell me the truth, Min Yoongi, c'mon!"
"He'd have stayed if you told him to not do the LatAm pitch, you know," Hoseok hums, then nudges him in his side. It takes Seokjin another second to look up, like the rest of his body's still playing catch up even when all the voices in his head are already miles ahead, screaming in all the languages he knows, Why the hell would your best friend gift you something from your wish list three years ago after you sort-of, kind-of accidentally confessed to him during karaoke? Why would he even do that? What the hell is he trying to say? "I mean, he'll probably still be working, but at least—"
"At least he'll be here. To help me with the, uh, shoe sorting. And stuff." Seokjin pinches his earlobe. He can feel wave of heat crawling up his chest, shooting up the column of his neck and bleeding onto his cheeks. If Yoongi was around, he'd have probably called it out already, probably would have reached over to curl his fingers on Seokjin's nape by now, and Seokjin would— "What time is it even in Mexico? I keep asking him but all he ever does is call to piss me off!"
"You two are weird," Hoseok grumbles, but there's no mistaking the smile on his lips. It does little to help ease the lurching sensation in Seokjin's gut, or to silence all the screeching in his head, but it does loosen the knots in his chest enough that he can feel his fingers now as he digs his hand in his pocket, fishing for his phone. "Anyway, I'll be off. I don't want to get in the way of your sexting or whatever. And no, hyung, I do not want updates, so please—"
Seokjin laughs. He shakes his head, waves Hoseok off when he wails about friends who love to overshare and everyone in the company, but keeps his eyes on the chat thread on his screen. It's been three hours since Yoongi'd last messaged him, and he'd meant to reply with 'oh, so you're being chatty now because you don't have friends there, huh?', but nah. He knows all too well that that's not what he meant to say. So he presses down hard on the backspace key, takes a deep breath, and starts keying in words that sound more like the voice inside of him that's been longing to speak out for the longest time — Aww, Yoongichii's alone in a big, big city! You miss me? :3
it's not that big. and i'm not alone. i just don't want to talk to the global bosses. they're boring.
their kimchi here's shit. i should've brought some of yours, god.
i miss it.
"Weirdo," Seokjin whispers, and bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to bruise. If Hoseok were still around, he probably would have peeked at the thread already, teased Seokjin about it. He'd never let on.
Poor you. But hey, only five days 'til you fly back to Seoul! Maybe you'll already be BFFs with the bosses by then, HA HA HA.
Let's start on a new batch when you get back. Gotta prep for spring!
Miss you, too.
yukichumau, you're up!