Tell Me Without Telling Me || Sope

Chapter Twelve

He shoulders open the door to his bedroom, blinking back tears, and almost runs into Yoongi.

They both jump, Hoseok's arm brushing Yoongi's as he manages to slip past him and sit heavily on the bed. His heart is pounding, mouth drying up.

"Sorry," he mumbles hotly. 

He still hasn't gotten used to sharing a room with Yoongi. The dance of having to avoid someone in such a small space (the space is pretty small now that there's two of them) is much harder than he anticipated. Well, he didn't anticipate it at all. He didn't think about it before signing the form. He just... thought of Yoongi.

Yoongi lets out a breath, chuckling. "I think you almost gave me a stroke," he says, leaning back over his chest of drawers. A few weeks ago, he'd put a mirror there so he could see himself better while doing his makeup and taking out his earrings. That's what he's doing now, fiddling gently with fine silvery chains. 

He lays each earring on the wood one by one, then moves on to his bracelets and necklace.

Hoseok looks down at his own bracelet. He hasn't taken it off once since Yoongi gave it to him.

Trying to control his racing heart and heavy breathing without Yoongi noticing, he feels like they've back pedalled three weeks, to the first night he slept in this room sober and spent every second of it worrying about his stomach making noises or his breathing being too loud. 

* * *

Had he always needed to clear his throat this much? What if he does snore and he has no idea? (As though Jungkook and Seokjin wouldn't have complained profusely about it if he did). He and Yoongi usually talk over the phone—how is he supposed to start a conversation in person? When do you stop? Now he won't have time to think about what he's going to say because Yoongi will be right there in the other bed, waiting for an answer. Gone is the luxury of not being in the same room, the privacy that allowed him to laughs and grin ridiculously, and, he hates himself for even thinking it, but what if he needs to fart? That's just embarrassing.

They hadn't talked for the first few nights, not really until the night of the day they'd gotten Hoseok a proper bed-frame and mattress. That day had been a long one, especially the morning because Hoseok had been anticipating going shopping with Yoongi since the moment he woke up. Yoongi had said they were going out last night, so now he couldn't not think about it. Or dread it being cancelled. The longer he went without a bed, the less likely it felt as though he could really stay with them.

It was just him and Yoongi on account of the fact the others 'weren't ancient and boring enough to enjoy mattress shopping.'

They'd driven into town, Hoseok in the passenger seat, Yoongi with one hand on the wheel. He didn't speak much when he drove, all his concentration on the road which, he'd confessed as he almost hit another car trying to park, was because he wasn't that good at driving.

Hoseok had driven on the way home, after they'd spent several hours in the bed shop, giggling as they lay on all the beds and bemoaned the comfiest ones that were out of their price range. Yoongi had laughed so hard that at one point he'd almost fallen off a bed and onto the floor.

When the people at the till had asked them if they wanted the mattress and bed-frame delivered for them, Yoongi (who had spoked two joints before they left the house) promptly said they'd be fine. The bed-frame wasn't assembled anyway, so it would fit in the car. And the mattress, well--the car did have a roof-rack. They would be fine. It was only a half hour drive and Hoseok was behind the wheel anyway. Hoseok could drive with that on the roof, right? Of course he could. If they didn't take it with them now, then they'd wind up waiting another five days for everything to be delivered and, who the fuck, he said, had the money to pay for a delivery anyway?