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Promise

It felt weird seeing you again after so many years, Hoseok mused as he cuddled into you.

You wouldn't recognize him, of course, as you had never officially met before you arrived on that rainy day. But before then he had heard so much about you and seen your face so many times, it felt like you had been a part of his life for much longer than that.

Of all the boys he was the first to meet Namjoon, when they were both still in High School, sneaking into the underground hip hop scene, trying their best not to look underage. They became friends easily, that friendship thankfully surviving longer than Namjoon's mini afro and until that day both could confirm without much thinking that they were one of each other's best friends.

And as his friend, Hoseok could knowingly affirm that Namjoon talked about Y/N constantly. At first it was annoying, as they could barely go through a meal without Namjoon adding something like " Y/N would love this place ", but slowly Hoseok got used to it and started enjoy his stories.

In his wild and very imaginative mind, Hoseok painted the portrait of this carefree girl who had absolutely no head-to-mouth filter and had his friend and whoever met her wrapped around her little finger – a girl whose personality could easily be encompassed by the word warmth .

And of course, as a young man would, his mind had also created visions of what you'd look like. That was a subject Namjoon hardly approached, blushing wildly and changing subject every time he would even mindlessly comment on how cute you were.

Then, a few months into their friendship, weeks after Hoseok's wandering mind started fantasizing about the mysterious Y/N, he finally saw you. Not face to face, thank every believable entity, because he was having a really bad hair day and an even worse hangover. He was out for lunch with Namjoon, who had just excused himself  to got to the bathroom, leaving his cellphone on the table top. Not long after he left the device started ringing, screen lighting up and your name shining on it, but that was hardly what Hoseok was focused on.

On the screen, a picture lit up behind your name. It seemed fairly candid: Namjoon was frowning, ice cream smeared on the tip of his nose and an empty cone on his hand  and in the back, there you were, laughing heartily, eyes almost closed and head thrown back

You looked nothing like he'd imagined. His  brain had pictured an idealized version of a girl, much like the idols he saw on TV, with long hair and perfect glass-like skin. But your hair barely reached your shoulders and your skin was tanner than society would have it be, with little blemishes here and there. You weren't anything like he thought you'd be - somehow your cute, much more realistic self was better.

He was brought back from his reveries by the device's incessant ringing. Panicking, he looked  around to see if Namjoon was back, but after catching no sight of his friend he quickly accepted the call. Before he even had the chance to say hello, your voice came through the speaker, angry and slightly accented:

"I'm going to cut her, Joonie. I know you said I shouldn't, I get it, I really do, but I cannot stand her racists comments. It is my moral responsibility to kick the xenophobia out of her and I will not, I repeat for dramatic effect, I WILL NOT sleep while her ass remains unbeaten."

"Uh" he eloquently offered "Namjoon's in the bathroom. I'm his friend."

"Oh" she got quiet for a few seconds, as if unsure how to proceed and Hoseok inwardly cringed, believing his awkwardness had scared her away until she added "you're the underground dude, right? His rapping friend."

"I dance too." Oh god, why did he say that, he mentally face-palmmed, you were going to think he was some sort of arrogant show off, when all he wanted was for you to think he was cool...